#because i don't know and because it makes me panic and because things are worse for other people and because and because and because

[laloward]

dude i bet goblr was crazy during the legion era.

4 notes

⚡ gobertt

I still can't believe my insurance didn't cover for a Legion invasion. I had to pay 500g out of pocket to replace my roof.

#like it was leaking fel crap everywhere #this is probably gallywix's fault #like everything else

2 notes

💥 bombfan100 🔄 megzz Follow

💖 megzz Follow

the fact that thrall basically demanded bilgewater cartel to join the horde with gallywix in charge is literally public knowledge like you can read about it on wikigob but we got kids complaining they didn't learn that in school. anyway, down with gallywix, thrall is a fraud.

🚨 rxcketblxst Follow

leave thrall out of this he didn't know any better??

💖 megzz Follow

842 notes

🩸 bloodsailkilla 🔄 bilgewaterbabe Follow

😈 bilgewaterbabe Follow

OMFG WHAT THE FUCK THIS THING JUST APPEARED IN THE SKY???

🧃 kajaddict Follow

why is everyone reblogging this uncritically this is clearly photogob'd...

😈 bilgewaterbabe Follow

dude go outside for 5 seconds and look up

🧃 kajaddict Follow

I literally live in undermine lmao

😈 bilgewaterbabe Follow

so you literally live under a rock

#we're getting this shit in booty bay too #underminers learn to stfu for 5 seconds challenge

3,040 notes

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💥 bombfan100 🔄 kajaddict Follow

🌛 wizdisc Follow

Okay I feel like I have to say something (as a Champion of Azeroth btw) because everyone's freaking out about it:

Yes, there's a big mean green ball up in the sky. That's Argus, the home of the eredar and base of the Burning Legion. I was at the Tomb of Sargeras and helped defeat Kil'jaeden, and Illidan used some key to open a portal to Argus to attack them directly.

Don't panic! We have it handled. We have powerful artifacts to defeat the Legion. I have this knife that tells me kind of concerning things but it helps defeat demons so it's fine.

🧃 kajaddict Follow

oh great the "champions of azeroth" are gonna fix allll our problems. just like you did when you DIDNT kill garrosh and caused an invasion of orcs from an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE that got us into this present mess... for all we know your "talking knife" (sure) is just gonna make everything worse.

💥 bombfan100

Why tf would a "champion of azeroth" have a goblr LMFAOOOO OP is just trolling

#talking knife is a new one though

143 notes

💀 is-gallywix-dead-yet

no

#jastor gallywix #bilgewater cartel #horde #is gallywix dead yet

12 notes

🧟 montebaby

does anyone have a link to the gazlowe feet leaks

0 notes

⚡ gobertt 🔄 kajaddict Follow

🧃 kajaddict Follow

continental bitches really don't appreciate how hard it is in undermine tbh

⚡ gobertt

GIRL THE DEMONS

[codeword-art]

I don't want this to come off as judgemental or like I'm personally attacking anyone that thinks differently about this specific scene, but I'm not going to lie and say I won't be a bit dramatic/harsh in these statements either. Ultimately I can sort of understand why some may think this is funny or humorous given similar jokes and scenes in other media, but to me personally, I don't. When Henry rescues Hans at Maleshov, and they're discussing the secret passageway and how Hans refuses to take it because of his claustrophobia, I don't think its funny to then physically assault Hans and drag him unconscious through the passageway anyway. Is it easier as a game mechanic, sure. If people are having a hard time getting through this quest the other way, I can understand simply making this option to just move on.

However, to me, that option is not acceptable under any other circumstance when RPing a good or neutral Henry. It'd be one thing if this scene was played humorously, like so many questlines in KCD and KCD2 are, but its not. If Henry presses Hans about not going through the passageway, he damn near has a panic attack, it's actually awful to watch. Hans is dead ass serious about his phobia, says the idea makes him nauseous, and he'd rather take his chances at the front gate. He is damn near close to crying here, while trying to make Henry understand. He is not doing well.

I understand this is frustrating, I'm not saying I wasn't frustrated at first either, from both a players and Henry's POV, but phobias are irrational fears that cannot be controlled, especially in 15th century Bohemia where therapy wasn't even a science yet. Hans has a good reason to be scared, he already was uncomfortable in tight spaces, and his fear was exacerbated during the "Finger of God" quest, and he hasn't really had any time to process what happened. He was immediately kidnapped and thrown into a tiny room with Brabant, of all people.

So to have Hans express this fear, lightly or seriously if pressed further by Henry, and then to think I'd immediately turn around and betray his trust and bodily autonomy to just make my quest objective easier, it's just gross to me. Hans is allowed to make that decision, no matter how annoying it is in the moment.

Also Henry is already weirdly written out of character here anyway, in my opinion. The non-romance options are just weird.

If it was the only choice to make, or if the second option had worse negative outcomes that'd be one thing, but it's just a little more sneaking around a subjectively easy area with light patrol.

Now again, I understand this is just my opinion. I don't think people are monsters for taking this option towards a fictional video game character. I know people like to play evil Henry, or depending on the conversation you have with Hans, some players may not even realize how serious Hans in being here, and surface level it's an objectively easier choice to make. If you're just trying to get through the quest, doing a speedrun, mistakenly misinterpret the scene, or whatever that's fine. We all play differently, I just don't think the choice itself overall is a funny, "Ha-ha, jokes on you Hans."

Also, I think this should lock Henry out of his romance. If I relayed a fear to a dear friend or partner and they actively force me through that fear, especially by choking me out? Yeah, were done. Relationship is over. Hans is far better than I am in that circumstance.

[kawaiigirly21]

Our Little Soda Pop: Chapter 6

... WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE!?” Abby shouted as he and the others panicked after seeing her get yanked through the fabric of time and space. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I'm gonna call her! I should call her right?!” Romance rambled as he paced the floor. “That was Gwi-Ma… he did this.” Mystery replied, staring at the place Natasha had once been then at his hand. “He snatched her away… So quickly… Do you think this is his way of telling us anything that makes us happy… he can take it away… just like that?” He added making the others stop in their panic.

“He's not wrong… Gwi-Ma really can do that… is he… punishing us?” Jinu wondered aloud before in a puff of pink smoke, Natasha dropped from the ceiling into his arms. “What the what?” He stood in shock as Natasha sat in his arms. The dazed expression on her face worried the group. “Natasha? What happened? Are you ok?” Jinu asked, walking over to the couch and reluctantly placing her on it. “She's not answering. Why isn't she answering?” Romance placed a hand on Natasha's shoulder.

“Tasha?” The slow turn of her head made things worse by how deeply she was staring at them. As if she was trying to search for their lost souls. Then suddenly “The next time I see him, I'm going to kill him and destroy everything he holds dear. Which isn't much.” She mumbled before closing her eyes and heaving a deep tired sigh. “Gwi-Ma?” Jinu asked. Still worried about Natasha's mental state. She gave a slow nod before turning to the boys. “I don't think you guys need me anymore. You've done well these past weeks. Baby shook his head. “No, we still need you. Don't you go and quit on us. Not when we're so close.”

Natasha shrugged. “Do you really want to do this? Do you really want to kill the hunters? Do you really want to give souls to Gwi-Ma and be berated because he's never satisfied? Or do you like being here? Being somewhat human? Being idols and having your freedom. Free from his voice in your heads? You boys have a choice.” As a wave of silence went through the penthouse, Mystery spoke up. “I don't want to do this anymore… I just want to be with you…” He then hugged Natasha tightly.

“Same… killing the hunters isn't worth it and feeding off souls isn't as satisfying as one might think.” Romance added. “In all honesty… Fuck Gwi-Ma. He's done nothing but make us suffer.” Baby replied as he took a seat next to Natasha. “Yea. I'm done doing his bidding. I feel better when I'm with you… I feel like I actually have a mind of my own.” Abby said before slamming his body onto the other side of the couch. “The repercussions… Is this really wise? What if he…” “Jinu, he won't hurt you. Not when he knows you belong with me. You have nothing to fear when you're with me.” Natasha said as she touched his cheek softly.

The man closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, letting out a relaxed sigh. He felt warm. He felt… home. Weeks later, the boys began to adjust to a new routine that didn't involve doing Gwi-Ma’s bidding or something evil. Since their refusal to work for Gwi-Ma, they found themselves happier than ever before. Their music career even took off. “Ugh my hand is cramping up! How many of these do we have to sign?” Baby whined as he hit his head on the table with pictures and merch sprawled out around him. “As many as you can love, you don't want to disappoint your fans do you?” Natasha replied as she sat on Jinu’s lap.

“How come he gets lap time?” Romance pouted. “I finished signing all my merchandise. And I have more than you.” He smirked while kissing on Natasha's neck. “Piece of shit.” Abby mumbled while scribbling his signature on yet another polaroid of him for the 200th time. “We should write another song.” Mystery suddenly spoke. Appearing from a mountain of merchandise and photos he had just finished signing. “Seriously? Wasn't Soda Pop enough?” Abby responded. “Not if you wanna stay famous Abs. You guys might become 1 hit wonders if you don't make another song soon.” Natasha replied. “You wrote songs before right? Write one for us!” Romance jumped up.

“Yea, show us those retired skills that made you famous.” Jinu smiled. Before Natasha could even begin to protest, she noticed the eyes of the group deadlocked on her. With slightly pouty expressions. “I don't know guys. It's been a while.” Natasha mumbled. “Please? We never got to see you in action. Now would be the perfect time.” Mystery said while putting a soft hand on Natasha's thigh. “Alright, I'll write your next song. But Jinu, Abby? You'll have to choreograph it.” The pair then nodded. “Baby? It might be a slow paced song. Are you ok with that?” The man pretended to think before smiling. “You know it.”

Over the course of that month, Natasha wrote a song for the group. As well as producing the beat while Jinu and Abby choreographed the dance to the song and Mystery with Romance came up with a concept for the video. After making the promo and releasing the song, the boys soon had their first live performance of the song that night. Excitement quickly spread through the populace and the group was no less excited. Probably even more because this would be their first song and performance that had nothing to do with consuming souls or Gwi-Ma. It was originally and perfectly them.

“I can't find my hat! We go on in like 30! Where's my damn hat!?” Baby's deep voice shouted through the venue. “It's on your head dear.” Natasha replied as she applied Mystery’s lip gloss for him. “... Oh.. Thanks babe. I mean Miss Manager.” He smirked as he snuck a quick kiss to her lips. “ Where's Jinu?” Natasha asked after moving to Abby and buttoning up his shirt because his hands were ‘oh so tired from signing fan letters all day’. “He and Romance went to check on the lights.” Mystery replied before leaning down and pressing a deep kiss to her lips. “Mm~ No honey! I just applied that! Now I gotta start all over!” Natasha scolded to which Mystery only smiled softly.

“Oh no. How unfortunate.” As Natasha began to apply his lip gloss once more, Jinu walked up behind her and kissed her cheek. “Hey sweetie. You should come on stage with us tonight. It's your song we're singing.” He smiled. “Absolutely not. I did my time.” Romance chuckled as he stood on her other side. “You speak of it like it was a prison sentence.” Suddenly, the sound of the doors opening and people flooding into the venue alerted the group and it was clear they were practically buzzing with excitement. “We should go practice a bit more! Just to make sure we got the routine perfectly!” Jinu grinned as he and the others went to find a place to rehearse one last time.

“Babe? You coming?” Baby asked. “Huh? Oh yea! Give me a minute! I'll catch up!” Natasha smiled. As soon as the boys were out of sight however, her smile dropped as she ran to the nearest bathroom to puke. Hands trembling and body unnaturally cold, Natasha pulled out a positive pregnancy test from her purse. “What am I gonna do…”

@libdarkheart

[moki-dokie]

and, as another layer of this shit sundae, i am already underpaid considerably. like, 10k/yr below what i ought to be making with my experience and position. i've been fine with that because we are an extremely small company/start-up and that kinda comes with the territory. also, oklahoma is hella cheap so i can get by on a lower income pretty fine.

and, again, this comes with start-up territory, i do about 5 different jobs at once on any given day. all of us do. it's gotten worse over the last 2 years though as we've had to lay off about half of the company yet still trying to run it that just isn't possible with a less than skeleton crew.

even after securing one hell of a lucrative deal with R*, we are still fucking floundering and can't bail out or get a good enough investor or make enough of a profit. ceo has been in panic mode for at least a year with no fucking direction and just throwing shit out in hopes something might stick but also quadrupling the work load of everyone. ceo is also the most underqualified asshat in existance and has no fucking right to be calling himself a ceo because he isn't an executive in any fucking capacity. 10 years my junior, no college education whatsoever, no work experience outside of running this company, and his only real guidance has been a few leadership classes here and there. he has lucked his way through the last decade and that luck has run dry. i have been screaming for the last FOUR years at HR (which is useless bc it's contracted and its run by a friend of the ceo so. yeah.) that the ceo is the problem. all of our turnover comes back to him. all of our operational problems comes back to him. he is singlehandedly driving the company straight into the ground and like every techbro on the fucking planet, cannot take five minutes to step back and consider that he is wrong and unfit and needs to hand off his position to someone qualified.

we are still a start-up after 12 years. we aren't *starting* shit anymore. the core leadership are the three co-founders who collectively have no idea how to run a business but are nonetheless good at pretending they do. they have never secured stable funding. they have never been profitable enough to do the things they're trying to do. it's only been this past year that they've gotten so desperate that they finally put their egos aside a BIT to take advice from the rest of the team. too little too late, though.

ceo has completely and utterly eroded my trust and goodwill over the years after throwing my department under the bus far too many times. i have 0 faith the company will last another two years, shaky faith that it lasts even 1 more year. i have 0 faith we'll ever get the back pay we were promised upon taking pay cuts.

on top of explicitly telling them i do not want this position on multiple occasions (trust me, it's not that i'm a good fit and they want me for it, its because they have literally no other choice), i know it's something i'm not capable of handling besides. i'm not remotely interested in upper management and i know i can't operate the way they need me to in order to succeed at it and i don't want to stress myself tf out trying just for the sake of it when we're in a sinking fucking ship. as i told my manager, if that weren't the case and there was even a glimmer of hope on the horizon, i might be more willing to tough it out and give it a shot. as it is, not only is it not worth my stress, but i just don't give a shit enough. there is quite literally nothing in it for me at this point other than some experience that ultimately doesn't mean shit.

i'm told that, well, its alright if you don't like it! You can always step down! to which i say - step down into WHAT position? you're getting rid of mine, so it'd be into the demotion -> layoff path, which ends up being the exact same ultimatum. I'm told that, well, we won't throw you to the wolves! it's okay if you fuck up a little, we'll help. to which i say - that isn't fucking possible when you *just* gave me an unjustified final warning write-up a month ago that'll be on record for 6 mo minimum. one single fuck-up more and I'm out. not that they need a reason at all, because like most of the nation oklahoma is at-will employment so as long as it isn't discrimination related your ass can be fired for any ol reason.

i have been given the shaft more times than i can count in my tenure here. ceo and i have butted heads enough times that i simply refuse to talk to him unless it's fucking necessary because i'm two seconds from ripping his head off at any given moment. since at least 2020, leadership has been trying to get rid of me in a way that simply cannot be contested (not that i would, i've tried that before and it's fucking pointless in at-will states) but i'm a fucking cockroach and i survive the shit they pull. you might be thinking WHY the fuck haven't i moved on? well, 1) i am my own boss 99% of the time 2) I am completely remote 3) we have the most generous PTO of any company i've *ever* worked for 4) we are super lax about people utilizing that generous PTO whenever and however they want 5) the health insurance is actually pretty damn good 6) i decide my own work hours and schedule and 7) because i legitimately liked doing the job we were doing for quite a long time and i still do at its core and now that AI has sucked human interaction out of customer support i take extra pride in my team and 8) despite being paid well under the industry standard, it's well above literally anything else i could make elsewhere in the state, because oklahoma is a broke ass ho with a job market in the dumpster and i live minimum 30 minutes away from where jobs would be besides and 9) without a fucking degree, which i do not have, all of my experience is utterly worthless to 90% of the job market and especially fucking resume-fielding algorithms and 10) bro i'm mid-30s in middle management customer service which is being rapidly wiped from the job market as a whole with some not-insignificant medical issues that are easily used against me without triggering any sort of technical discrimination. basically, this is as good as it gets for me where i am now. that, however, is changing.

but since i'm about to be in california, in a very walkable city, with a very good job market and overall better employer mentality, my options are expanding. i could also jump ship to a competitor, which i'm heavily considering. the problem there is that this industry is so fucking small that all the ceos and leadership teams know each other, and i know from experience that they shit talk the employees they don't like amongst each other and circumvent laws asking about employment by just talking to each other as friends. so, eh, it's a risk but its a risk i'm considering too. all things considered, this came at a pretty good time. i think they honestly counted on backing me into a corner, not realizing i had an escape route that *just* opened up.

anyway. there's 6 years of my life wasted. i'm tired and i'm stressed and i'm angry.

work: so your choices are take the promotion, or take a demotion and then lay-off

me: hm. k. so how much is the pay raise for the promotion?

work: well. about that. there isn't one

me:

work:

me: so. you just. expect me to take on more work and more responsibility when i've already been working under a pay cut for the last 7 months?

work: well, what else would you do?

me: hm, gee, i don't know, maybe NOT take any extra work on at all actually and just be demoted since I'm already at that pay grade?

work:

me:

work: okay but see you're holding yourself back here. are you really willing to face being laid off over challenging yourself?

me: yeah actually i'm very willing to do exactly that

work:....alright lets talk some more tomorrow

[thegempage]

me in the first couple of months after moving, reassuring myself that things always get worse before they get better: hurting is the first step to healing!

me, a year and a month after the move, undeniably happier than i've been in over a decade and yet watching as each one of my maladaptive coping mechanisms falls apart in my hands, leaving me not only without any beneficial, long-term-appropriate coping mechanisms ready on-hand to replace them but also with the ever-growing sense that there is more wrong with me than i ever knew hiding underneath layers of masks and trauma responses: oh so i didn't know fuck or shit

[ourceliumnetwork]

actually US english spellchecker i don't care that meagre isn't spelled that way over here. i don't care if it's not spelled that way ANYWHERE. that's the way the word is supposed to be spelled. Cause i said so.

[ssahotchnerr]

New request brewed in my brain this morning, so what if like the reader got taken by a unsub and the team found them and Hotch is with the reader and they were drugged is is just very out of it and is falling asleep and Hotch is saying things “sorry sweetheart I need to stay up” or like “I know your tired love but you have to wait” and is just being very supportive and lovey dovey like.

weightless and wanting

he's the sweetest 🥺🤕 cw; fem bau!reader, reader is drugged - only their induced state is described: this just consists of aaron comforting them, mutual pining, sooo much fluff, aaron blames himself - are we surprised? wc; 1k

The fear that took hold of Aaron during the time you were unaccounted for was something he’d remember for a long time.

Despite several eyes, constant surveillance, or being tapped into a wire, undercover work was risky. One untallied thing could slip right by and unravel everything in an instant.

One moment, you were at the bar, conversing with the suspect. And the next, you were gone.

Aaron's heart had stopped, his eyes shifting as he observed all cams frantically. Maybe you had moved locations. Maybe you changed positions, your back facing rather than the front.

Nothing. No sight of you.

He could barely recall jumping into action, alerting the team that you had to be found - now. And it hadn't taken long. Only you were found on the ground, helpless. Completely at the unsub's mercy.

At the sudden intrusion of agents, the unsub made his getaway, fleeing down the alley as fast as his legs could carry him.

"Morgan!" Aaron snapped as panic surged through him, freezing his blood cold.

"We got him!" Morgan sounded off, gun raised as he and JJ dashed after the guy.

"Hey." Aaron crouched next to you as he holstered his gun, hands outstretched and gingerly reaching for you. You hummed gently at his touch, coming to. "Hey hey hey, are you alright?"

"Yeah, 'm fine." You confirmed as you immediately slumped into him, swallowing thickly. It took you a second, in attempt to gather your incoherent thoughts, clearly fighting against your induced, quickening state. The world was dizzying. "But I-think... he.."

"He drugged you," Aaron confirmed, scanning your person quickly. Your slurring words, blanching skin, your half-lidded eyes - all unmistakable indicators you'd been slipped something. Fuck.

You relaxed at the shared understanding; finally free to succumb to the overwhelming sluggishness with the confirmation someone knew. The team was here. Aaron was here.

Aaron could take care of things now, something for which you were grateful because you were so tired.

His head shot to the side as your eyes fluttered shut, his own filled with hardened urgency. "Reid."

"Ambulance is on the way."

"You hear that?" Aaron turned back to you, speaking calmly, but beneath it ran a current of barely restrained fear. You were caged in his arms, allowing him to hold you upright. His arm wrapped around the crook of your neck, safely keeping you against him, your cheek against his chest. "Help's on the way. I just need you to stay awake for me."

Forcing your eyes open, you nodded drowsily as you gripped onto his forearm, your fingernails digging into his skin as you fought to remain alert. Only, it weakened, the sting dwindling as the seconds passed.

Blinking up at him, your sorrowful, dazed eyes ached his heart in a way he never knew possible, "I'm sorry Aaron."

"Don't be, you didn't do anything wrong," he reassured, his tone insistent yet matching your soft whisper. Your referring to him as 'Aaron' instead of 'Hotch' only served to make him feel exponentially worse. You've called him by some form of his last name since the day you’d met him. And considering what he kept hidden, he would've welcomed the more personal feeling that his first name brought.

But tonight, it hit too close. Hearing his given name reminded him this was his fault. He should never have let you go undercover, should never have allowed your assurances that everything would be okay to sway him into agreeing.

But it had just been too perfect. You were the unsub’s ideal victim. Given the opportunity, he would have no choice but to pursue you. Whether Aaron liked it or not, you were the key in catching him.

He’d had a gut feeling this was a bad idea before you even got dressed to go to the bar, or when Dave suggested it, or before Dave suggested it. Aaron knew that telltale look on his face - the one that held a perfectly arranged ploy despite the dangers it consisted of.

And while strictly strategic, it still didn't deny the jealousy that caused his jaw to clench as the unsub flirted with you. To ensure you'd gotten the correct guy, you had to flirt back; flash him your beautiful smile, lay a hand on his arm.

Acting or not, Aaron hadn't wanted to sit there and watch it play out. He ardently longed for you and you didn't even know it.

"We got him. We know who he is. You did your job well."

"But I..." you protested, your nose scrunching in disapproval in the silent certainty you'd let him down. It was getting harder to form thoughts now - everything felt distant, slower, as if your brain lagged behind reality.

"The only thing you need to worry about is keeping your eyes open." At that, your eyes lifted back to his, softening at the sight of his sweet, sweet brown eyes.

You tried to focus on his gaze, but it swam in and out of clarity. When you could, it wasn't panicked, there was no pressure, just need. A soft kind of desperation.

"It's okay. I'm going to take care of you," he consoled. "Jus' stay awake for me baby."

You wanted to, for him, but your breathing grew deeper regardless. Your eyes - along with your limbs - felt detrimentally heavier than before. Despite trying your hardest, you couldn’t keep them from closing. Letting all your worries slip away along with the surrounding noise.

Besides, you were safe - tucked in Aaron's arms. Nothing bad could happen to you now, and he'd be right there when you awoke later. You knew he would be, he always was.

Aaron pressed his lips to the top of your head. The last thing you heard before succumbing to the darkness:

"Relax, I've got you."

[ashnnix]

"This horny Incubus won't leave me alone"

Incubus Gojo x Sub Male reader.

Warnings: Bottom reader, amab, dubcon, overstimulation, reader is a streamer, Gojo is also like a sub. Based on manga named 'Game Shitai Dake na no ni Incubus ni Suwaremakuru'!

You finally hit "End Stream" and slump back in your chair like a ragdoll. Chat had been dead tonight, your kill/death ratio was trash, and you accidentally moaned over a jump scare again. Peak embarrassment.

With a groan, you rub your face and mutter, “Kill me now.”

But of course, death is too kind and not nearly as annoying as him.

Just as you start reaching for the last cold sip of your energy drink, you feel it. A slow, warm pressure against your lap like fingers, or maybe something worse, something playful and so ero.

You sigh, not even flinching this time. “Gojo.”

A low chuckle curls around your ear, smug and too pleased with himself. “Aw, you always ruin the surprise, streamer-kun. I was trying to be subtle this time.”

“You literally touched my dick.”

“I said subtle, not invisible,” he hums, his voice a purr. A moment later, you feel his weight settle on the armrest, his face way too close, silver hair brushing your cheek. “You know the rules. You stream, I visit. It's a whole... energy exchange thing. You’re glowing with that sweet loser energy I need to survive.”

You shoot him a tired glare. “You’re such a freak.”

Gojo grins, fangs peeking out just a little. “And yet, you keep letting me feed.”

You don't answer. Mostly because you don't have one. He always shows up after your streams like clockwork, in heat and lewd touches and sinful smiles. He says he feeds on your life force, but you’re not stupid. That’s not all he’s after.

Hes after your tight asshole, not just your cum.

"You were cute tonight," he whispers, tapping his finger against your chin. "Especially when you screamed like a little bitch during that horror game. I felt that jolt of panic straight through the ether– “

“You’re disgusting.”

“I’m an incubus, babe. It’s in the job description.” He shifts in your lap, way too casual for someone basically straddling you. “You know you could make this easier by just letting go. Give me a little more cum.”

Your breath hitches as his hand trails down your chest, slow and lazy. You curse yourself for reacting.

“See? You like when I tease you,” he murmurs, licking his lips. “Just say the word, and I’ll make this whole ‘streamer burnout’ thing go away. Nice and easy.”

You look away, biting your cheek. He always does this. Always pushes until you're at the edge.

“…I hate you,” you mumble.

Gojo grins, fangs glinting as he leans closer, lips brushing your ear.

“No you don’t.”

And damn it, maybe you don’t.

You’re not sure when exactly it went from “mildly annoying post-stream visit” to “I’m going to lose my mind if he keeps touching me like that,” but Gojo has a talent for crossing lines with zero shame.

"god, you're such a brat," you snap, grabbing his wrist after he let his hand wander a little too far over your thigh.

He just grins, head tilting, white hair falling over his forehead like he styled it on purpose even though you know he didn’t. “Mmm… getting angry now, are we?” he hums, tone syrupy and smug. “So hot when you act tough. Wanna growl at me next?”

You don’t even think you just grab the front of his leather straps, shove him back, and push him toward your bed like you’ve completely lost the plot.

“Shut up you fucking gonner” you bark, pissed, flustered, way too turned on. Why wouldn't you a sexy big chested man on your bed legs open wide ready to be fucked.

Gojo stumbles back with a laugh and lands flat on your bed, legs open, hands propped behind his head like he’s been waiting for this exact moment. And judging by the way he bites his lip hard enough that his fang catches it just a little he has.

“Oh?” he says, voice low, that smile spreading slow and deliberate. “So this is how you wanna play it?”

You glare, chest rising and falling too fast, hands clenched at your sides. You’re not even sure what just happened. You’re mad. You’re humiliated. You’re–

“Perfect,” he murmurs under his breath, almost like it’s to himself. “Pissed off, flustered, desperate… You’re gonna last maybe three rounds before you start begging.”

Your brain short-circuits.

“What?”

“You don’t get it yet, do you?” he interrupts, sitting up a little, licking his bottom lip slowly. “The more riled up you get, the better you taste. Emotion, energy, frustration…” He reaches forward, fingers ghosting over your waistband. “You think I came here just to tease? Nah, baby I came to drain everything out of you. Might as well have fun doing it.”

And even though your pride’s screaming, your body betrays you– shivering at the sound of his voice, the heat of his touch, the glint in his incubus eyes that tells you you’re not sleeping tonight.

Not unless it’s with him. And probably not even then.

You might’ve started this pissed off, but now?

You're just screwed. In every possible way.

Gojo's incubus tail flicked, and as usual, he slid down your waistband. Your cock stood hard in front of him.

Gojo smirked, eyes filled with lust and longing. ‘Shit, I missed him so much.’

You flinched when you felt his tongue graze over your tip.

Drooling, Gojo kept his tongue out as he slurred through his grin, “You worked so hard, darling.”

He kissed your tip with a wink. “I'll make sure to satisfy you♡.”

Of course, you were turned on but you hadn’t even taken a bath yet. You raised a hand to stop him. “Hey, can you wait for like a couple minute?”

Gojo stroked your head, making you shiver. “Ah! Hmp–” You quickly muffled the sound with your hand.

Gojo smirked, continuing his slow pace, eyes locked onto your cockhead. “If I wait that long, I might wither and die.”

You clenched your fists, trying to keep steady under his warm touches.

Gojo’s fingers played skillfully along your shaft, as usual. “And like always, I’ll only take one load.”

You glared down at him. “You’re the one who’s never satisfied with just one.”

Gojo licked the base of your cock, his sticky drool trailing along your skin. You winced in pleasure. “Guh!–”

Your reaction made his dick twitch. “Huh? I meant it for real this time,” he muttered.

Gojo opened his mouth wide, tongue out like a porn star. “But don’t worry, I’ll make you feel better.”

His mouth swallowed you whole.

Your hips instinctively pushed forward as pleasure surged through your entire length. “Ah! Mhm! Gojo–hmm~” you gasped, feeling his warm mouth wrap around you. His teeth grazed slightly, but it didn’t hurt.

Gojo’s face flushed red as he took you in, the only thought in his mind 'I'll make him cum so hard he can’t say no to my dick.’

He bobbed his head, your cock hitting the back of his throat. His eyes rolled back. ‘Ooh~ he tastes so good!’

You muffled your whines as heat spread through your body. “Ugh–hng!”

You felt yourself getting closer who could blame you? A professional dick-sucker was draining your soul. “I’m cumming!”

Gojo pressed his face against your pubes just as your release hit–warm, sticky, and slightly salty–as it spilled down his throat, filling him with renewed energy.

“Ahhh…” You thrust your hips a couple of times, feeling Gojo savor your taste.

Gojo felt his black leather panties tighten, his fat dick growing harder and harder.

He pulled off with a wet pop, drool still connecting his lips to your tip.

You watched as he opened his mouth, just like the yaoi scenes you’d read his tongue proudly holding your load.

Gojo touched the cum with a heated breath, his body overheating with the desperate need to be inside you. “Your cum’s thick as always, so gross.”

You shivered at the sight, but blinked in confusion at his words. “So is that a good thing or not?”

Gojo looked up at you. “Yes and no.”

You sighed only for him to suddenly pull you onto the bed. You grunted as your body hit the mattress, opening your mouth to complain but the words died when you saw him.

His eyes were blown wide, pupils shaped like hearts. His body was sweaty, mouth dripping with saliva and your cum. He was panting heavily, and best of all…

His thick, fat cock loomed over your face casting shadows, leaking pre like it was already lubed up.

Gojo raised your legs, his hand twitching with excitement. “Make me feel good now.”

With one sharp thrust, his hips pushed forward, burying all of his cock inside you. He whined, his tail flicking wildly behind him. “Ohh, Y/N! So tight, so good! Ngh!”

Your eyes rolled back, your back arching from the overwhelming pleasure.

An incubus cock could turn anyone dumb from just the pre alone hitting the victims sweet spot.

“Ugh–ngh! Go-Gojo! Gi-give me a warning next ha… time!” you slurred, mouth already drooling.

But Gojo wasn’t listening because he was just as dumb with lust. “Ah~♡ My darling’s tight loser hole... I missed this,” he rambled, his hips already moving at a fast pace.

Fwap fwap

“Shi– too fast, G-Gojo! Nghhh~ haa! Huagh!!!” you cried, your hands gripping the sheets tightly, head tilting back as his dick pounded your prostate over and over.

Gojo felt his cock twitch at your reaction. He moaned like a slut, just as loud. “Oh! Ah! Ahn! Y-Y/N! You're so tight–so fucking tight!”

You felt your body shudder, your vision starting to blur. “FUCK! A-Ahm–I'm gonna cum!!”

Gojo didn’t hear you–but just as he hit your prostate again, your vision went white.

Feeling you tighten around him, Gojo’s mouth dropped open, watching you cum like a virgin all over again. “Finally! Darling’s cumming! Hehe ahh~”

Gojo was surprised when you suddenly flipped him onto his back. His eyes widened as he watched you strip off your top, his cock still barely inside you. The sight only turned him on more.

You glared down at him, still breathless and flushed. “You haven’t cum yet, and I’m still pent up from the tournament.”

Without warning, you slammed your hips down.

Plop, plop!

This time, it was Gojo’s back that arched. “Ohh! Love your hole! Ngh–love it so much!”

You smirked, but your confidence flickered when you felt his cock reach even deeper. “Ohh! Y-You love it? Ngh–mhm! Love my loser hole?”

Gojo nodded frantically, hands gripping your hips with desperation. “Y-Yeah! Love your hole!”

The way you tightened around his thick length had him leaking pre-cum again and again, his brain short-circuiting with pleasure. “Da-hm… Awm… too–ngh… cu– ngh!” He couldn’t even form a straight sentence anymore.

Plop plop schlorp!

You didn’t understand or didn’t care as you kept slamming your hips down over and over. “Haa–ngh! Cre-creampie this loser’s ass!”

And Gojo did.

He arched his back, the tip of his cock pressing deep, kissing the very end of your hole. “Huaghhh!!” His eyes rolled back, pupils replaced with hearts as he threw his head back.

Your body trembled, your own orgasm crashing into you. “Ooh~ Shoo full! Shoo good!” you slurred, your dick twitching as his thick cum filled you to the brim.

“Haa… haa…”

Both of you took a moment to catch your breath.

‘Shit, he fucked me and I fucked him hard,’ you thought once your mind finally cleared. But Gojo’s hadn’t.

His head was still thrown back, tongue hanging out.

‘So lewd,’ you thought, a devious idea forming in your mind. With shaky legs, you stood up and reached for your pants to grab your phone.

Gojo didn’t even notice you holding it.

He reached down to touch his still-hard cock, wet with cum. He held it up, showing he was still painfully pent up.

“More pleash… fuck me more…” he mumbled, dazed.

You stroked yourself slowly, groaning, and took a photo.

“Looks like I’m not streaming tomorrow,” you muttered under your breath. “What the hell am I going to do with you?”

From far away, a certain long black-haired angel watched through his orb, eyes narrowing as he glared down at you.

“So dirty,” he muttered.

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

[thebibliosphere]

Hello! I hope you don't mind me asking, but do you have any thoughts on Howard Schubiner's Unlearn Your Pain, Mind Body Syndrome, treating neuroplastic symptoms, etc.? I was just referred to a pain management group that centers around these concepts, and I'm having some Feelings about the whole thing.

Just wondering if you've had any experiences with this type of treatment, or thoughts about its effectiveness. Thanks!

Okay, so this is going to be long, and I'm going to need you to stick with me through the tangent. I promise it's relevant.

I haven't read Howard Schubiner's work directly, but his colleague Alan Gordon was a key speaker at the Migraine World Summit this year. I found his talk interesting enough to buy his book and do some more research on my own, and I found it worthwhile pursuing on my own.

I know enough from my mast cell disorder to know that the body develops 'bad habits' around pain.

In the case of anxiety, stress, or panic, mast cells become more reactive, and this can make pain worse. This is true for everyone*; it's just those of us with MCAS or some other type of mast cell disorder who have more alarming symptoms like idiopathic anaphylaxis.

So, unfortunately, if I, as someone with MCAS, experience an acute pain from an injury or illness, the inherent stress response of the pain and the out-of-balance response from my nervous system can make my mast cells degranulate. They're little fuckers like that.

Mast cells can also put your body on an inflammatory cycle that is counterproductive to healing. They can literally get trained to anticipate reactions and pre-emptively react, because again, they are little fuckers.

To give you an example of this for me: my major migraines, the ones that land me in the hospital, occur on the dot every ten days. There are no hormonal factors to this that can be found or other consistent triggers or stressors, but I was unknowingly being exposed to an MCAS trigger roughly every ten days for a while. When I realized, I removed the trigger, obviously. Problem solved, right? Unfortunatley no. By then, my mast cells had trained themselves into a new pattern, and the migraine now is both the response and the trigger. It's some bastard thing called Innate Immune Memory. But it's also, partly, my subconscious anticipating the event and priming my body for a reaction, which I am susceptible to because of my MCAS and dysautonomia, which is a type of nervous system disorder.

And this is where the neuroplasticity comes in.

I'm currently in the process of trying to unlearn this response and better regulate my nervous system, which unfortunately makes me sound like a TikTok girly with a link in bio to sell you cortisol healing tea, but I promise you the only thing I'm interesting in shilling is my smutty vampire books. (And this post will be how some people learn I write books)

Anyway, why am I bothering to explain mast cell dysfunction like this in relation to neuroplasticity?

Because, yeah, if a pain doctor handed me a leaflet about 'unlearning pain' and I didn't understand how my body is routinely sabotaging itself on a cellular level in response to acute and neuroplastic pain, I'd also be rolling my eyes and feeling like I've just been handed a bottle of snake oil in the market.

God knows I've been handed 'mindfullness' leaflets by enough shitty doctors who don't actually understand what it means when we say "stress affects the nervous system" and just assume the patient is inventing symptoms to be annoying.

Thankfully, that is not what this is. At least I am hoping the doctor sending you there doesn't think you are causing your own pain. What they are hopefully trying to do is introduce you to something that a lot of chronic pain patients are reporting helps them feel more in control of their lives after many years of feeling at the mercy of their pain.

I don't attend the sessions at my brain injury clinic (yet), but I do know they use neuroplasticity therapy to help amputees with the phantom pain they experience from missing limbs. My physical therapist spent an entire session singing its virtues to me while I was fighting for my life on a balance board. Which is also why I decided to look into it after I heard Gordon talking at the Migraine World Summit.

So, do I think Schubiner's methods are hokum?

No, I think there's a lot of merit to the things he talks about and explains, but I also know the only reason I think that is because of the insight I have into the brain-body bundle through the experiences of my mast cell disease that has taught me there is nothing the brain is incapable of fucking up.

Do I think targeting neuroplastic pain will work well for everyone?

No. I think you need to try it and see if it's a good fit for you.

Some people who attended the World Migraine Summit think it's snake oil/just another way for pain doctors to foist us off into the realm of mental health care. Conversely, other people won't shut up about how learning to break the cycle of fear and panic around their pain has been life-altering for them.

For me, it's been more subtle and is part of a broader spectrum of therapies and medical treatment I use to keep my nervous system in check. It certainly hasn't done me any harm. If anything, I found it quite validating to hear someone say, "Oh, the pain is in your head? Of course it is. Let's try to fix that," and then gave me actionable coping methods. They might not work profoundly in the long term. I'm still a sick bitch with multiple acute causes of my pain. But it's also not harming me the way mindfulness was (many chronic pain patients can find it traumatizing).

I will say, I am concerned that some doctors will use the treatment of neuroplastic pain to dismiss treating acute pain with physical causes.

Just like how mindfulness has been abused by an overworked, underfunded medical system not equipped to handle chronic patients, there's also the risk of neuroplastic therapy being tossed over the fence in a similar fashion as a last ditch Hail Mary to treat patients they don't have time for. But I don't think it's widespread enough yet for that to be the case.

I dunno. Give it a try. If it's not for you, it's not for you.

Personally, I hate anything that revolves around group therapy, but I did find the book "The Way Out" by Alan Gordon insightful in helping me figure some things out. Maybe see if your local library has it before you drop money on any sessions?

_ _ _

*There has also been more compelling evidence recently that suggests that chronic pain conditions like fibromyalgia are also affected by wonky mast cells. Also arthritis.

[sturniolohouse]

Do Not Wait - M.S

a/n: this got heavier than i planned initially but i just leaned into wherever the story took me. it's also very reader focused, which i realized way too late. but, do not fret, matt is still in it :) lmk if you'd like me to continue this as a series... i hope yall like it, im proud of it.

summary: while matt is away, reader learns and struggles with some unexpected news that will change both their lives forever.

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, vomit, blood, death, grief, panic attacks, cursing. (no use of y/n)

word count: 11.7k

song: do not wait - wallows

"And it gets worse before it gets better That's one thing that I have come to know Just so you know"

“I hate to leave you like this,” Matt sighs, pushing my hair out of my face as his dark silhouette sits beside me on the bed.

I lay curled up in a ball after spending majority of the night sick. I feel terrible because I kept Matt up when he had to be up early for his flight to Chicago today.

Despite my attempts to avoid disturbing him, he spent most of the night beside me, rubbing my back while I hunched over the toilet and bringing me water.

I toss and turn, unable to find a comfortable position as my restlessness and nausea worsen by the second.

Matt’s hand touches my forehead, gently pushing my hair back and mindlessly scratching my head. I sit up as another wave of nausea twists my stomach, and I take a deep breath, hoping to suppress it. Matt sits up behind me, his hand now rubbing my back as I lean over the side of the bed with my head between my knees.

Thankfully, a moment later the wave of sickness passes and I sit up straight with a small groan as my body aches.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch. I don’t want to get you sick, and you have to be up in a few hours,” I croak, but he protests, gently pulling me back into bed.

"I don't give a fuck. I'll sleep on the plane, you're staying right here,"

As the morning light begins to filter through the curtains, Matt’s alarm goes off. By then, we had maybe collectively slept an hour and I knew he must have been exhausted. He got ready quietly trying his best not to disturb me, but I was already awake.

I don’t think sleep is in the cards for me tonight.

He places the back of his hand on my forehead, then my cheek, his touch gentle and searching.

“You still don’t have a fever...I don’t know if that’s good or bad,” He sighs, his fingers sifting through my hair with a tenderness that makes my heart ache.

Even with the faint light of dawn as our only source, I can still make out his concerned expression as he scans my face.

“I've never been this sick before. It must be a bug,” My voice is hoarse from repeatedly throwing up.

“Please, stay here with Nick while I’m gone so you have someone to look after you. I’m gonna text him now so he sees it when he wakes up. God, I don’t even want to go anymore,” He wipes his hand down his face in stress and I shake my head.

“No, stop, don’t worry about me. I’m gonna be fine. I’ll stay here with Nick. Please don’t be late for your flight,” I insist, gripping his hand weakly. “I’m going to make some tea and try to get some rest.” I go to get up but he puts his hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll make you tea, while we wait for the Uber. What do you want, mint?” He asks softly, his hand rubbing up and down my hip.

I nod weakly, thanking him.

I doze off a bit while he goes to make my tea, the repercussion of not sleeping catching up to me. When I open my eyes again, he’s setting my steaming mug on the bedside shelf carefully and placing two advils next to it.

“Text me when you wake up? And let me know if you have to go to urgent care, I’ll send you an Uber.” He tells me softly, his voice trembling with an emotion he’s trying to hide.

His reluctance to leave is evident in every line of his face.

I nod tiredly, “Mm, text me when you and Chris land. Have fun in Chicago. I love you.”

“I love you,” He kisses my forehead, before grabbing his suitcase by his bedroom door and leaving.

I was able to sleep a couple of more hours before I woke up again, dry heaving into the toilet because I quite literally had nothing left in my stomach.

I showered, brushed my teeth and went into the kitchen, searching for something bland to settle my stomach. I had decided to grab a rice cake and made more mint tea before I sprawled out on the couch in one of Matt’s hoodies.

It’s not the first time he’s been away, but this time, I miss him more than I anticipated. Even the scent of his hoodie brings a wave of emotion that catches me off guard.

We’ve never been one of those couples that spends every second of every day together anyway. Not even when we first started dating. We’ve always given each other the space we need.

But I must admit I could go for one of his hugs right now.

It’s around 10 AM when Nick comes down stairs and his face tells me everything I need to know about my appearance.

“I know, I look like shit.” I deadpan and he covers his mouth with wide eyes.

“I got Matt’s texts...I thought that motherfucker was being dramatic. Are you feeling any better?” He asks with a hand on his chest.

“Well, I haven’t thrown up in three hours, so that’s a new record. Your poor brother, I kept him up all night,”

“He'll live, do you want to go to urgent care?”

“No, I’ll wait it out. It’s gotta pass and I was able to keep my breakfast down.” I wave a hand.

Nick goes to make his own breakfast, slicing an apple before coming over to sit on the couch with me.

“Apple?” He offers me, munching on his own bite.

I decline shaking my head with a frown.

Nick wanted to watch Love Island, so I let him change the TV, feeling my eyelids grow heavy. As the sounds of the show filled the room, I found myself dozing off, giving in to the rest my body needs.

When I wake up, I have a blanket over me and Nick is editing on his laptop.

He notices me move and takes his headphones off one ear.

“Hey, you feeling better? Matt keeps pestering me for updates,” He shows me his phone with messages from a worried Matt.

I sigh, “Jesus...I’ll call him. But yes, I feel better now that I've gotten some sleep.” I get up and stretch my body, wincing at my achy muscles.

“How long was I out?” I ask grabbing my phone to see my own set of messages from Matt.

Kid worries too much.

“About 3 hours, you were knocked out. I’m gonna order food, are you hungry for anything?” He asks and my stomach rumbles at the thought of one food.

“I could fuck up some tacos right now,” I raise an eyebrow at him at my suggestion.

“I like the way you’re thinking.” He snaps his fingers pointing at me in agreement.

“Birria tacos for me and a Diet Coke. I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go call your brother before he has a heart attack.” I say walking to Matt’s room and calling him.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Hey,” He breaths out, his voice soft.

“What did I tell you about worrying about me?” I tease him and he laughs, sounding relieved.

"Hi!" I heard Chris shout in the background, before I heard a door close and Matt sigh. I'm guessing he went into a separate room.

“If you saw the state you were in before I left this morning, you’d be worried too. I take it you’re feeling better? Heard you napped,” He speaks up again, talking at a normal volume now.

“I was physically feeling the state I was in. But, yeah, a little better after my nap. How was your flight?” I ask, playing with the trinkets on his shelves.

“Besides me worrying the entire flight about you dehydrating and dying? Fine. A little turbulence, but nothing crazy.”

“Okay, drama, relax. I’m staying hydrated, I’ve napped, Nick and I are about to order some tacos. It must have just been a bug. I must admit, you're very cute when you worry about me though.” I smile and he hums shly.

A beat of silence goes by and I look at the photobooth picture of Matt and I on his wall.

“I miss you,” I admit to him, leaning down to inhale the collar of his sweatshirt on me.

“I miss you too. You know I haven't even been gone 12 hours though,” He reminds me, sounding amused at my unexpected sappyness.

I sigh, “I know,”

Suddenly I have a lump of emotion in my throat and he automatically hears the switch of my tone.

“Hey woah, what happened? Why are you upset?” He sounds panicked.

“Oh my god, sorry. I don’t know. I’m not even sad,” I choke back my tears.

“Doesn’t sound like it.." He doesn't sound convinced. "Do I need to come home?" He says next and I'm immediately objecting.

“What! No. Matt, I promise I’m fine.” I tell him quickly, taking off my hoodie as I begin to overheat.

“I love you... I’ll be back before you know it, okay? S'nothing we haven’t done before.” He reminds me softly and my bottom lip wobbles.

“Mhm,” I manage to get out and he sighs again.

“Sweetheart... You’re telling me not to be worried, but I’m beyond worried. Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” He pleads and I shake my head even though he can't see me.

“I honestly couldn’t tell you...I-i think I just needed to cry, and missing you isn’t helping because I wish I could hug you but you’re so f-far,” I hiccup.

“Okay, deep breaths, how about you take a nice hot shower–maybe a bath. Use Nick’s bath and when you’re done, you can eat your tacos and you’ll feel better. Okay? Listen, Chris and I are about to leave for dinner, are you going to be alright?” He checks in, sounding hesitant to hang up.

“Yes, I’m fine. Seriously. I’m sorry. I must be starting my period soon.” I compose myself, trying to ignore the sudden ache in my heart.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, his voice gentle and sweet.

Any other time, he’d be teasing me for being a crybaby—lovingly, of course—but I think he senses that my emotions are genuinely beyond my control right now.

“I love you,” he says again with emphasis, wanting to hear me say it back.

“I love you, so much," I say weakly, "Have fun at dinner and tell Chris I said hi.” I tell him, wiping my eyes.

“Will do. I’ll call you when we get back.” He says goodbye, hanging up.

I take a deep breath and I shake my head, feeling frustrated with my poorly-timed emotions. I feel terrible for worrying him more, I wanted this trip for him to be fun. Chris had really been looking forward to going with Matt—it had become a sort of tradition for the two of them. I need to get my emotions under control.

I wince again as I feel the heaviness and soreness in my breasts. Sighing, I go to my phone and check my period app to see when this torture will be over.

My stomach drops when I open the app and see I'm 13 days late.

My head feels dizzy suddenly and I pinch my eyes closed as the pit in my stomach spurs on more nausea. I lay back and put my arm over my eyes and take deep breaths.

My mind races, but I can’t seem to focus on one thought.

No, I can’t be.

I’m just stressed, that’s all.

I have an IUD, it's not possible.

But everything's adding up; the nausea, heightened emotions, late period...

I sit up slowly, feeling the weight of the realization settle on me. My heart pounds in my chest and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the flood of emotions threatening to drown me. But there’s no escaping this.

With trembling hands, I go to call Matt back, my thumb hovers over the call button but I stop myself. He’s going to dinner right now, on the opposite side of the country.

I can't burden him with this, not when I don’t even know for sure.

Dropping my phone onto the bed beside me, I try to self soothe, taking deep breaths to steady myself, but the anxiety is relentless.

I walk out of the room and Nick is asking me what kind of salsa I want with my tacos before he looks up at me. He immediately furrows his brows in worry.

“Hey–what's going on, are you okay?” He sits up and places his laptop on the coffee table.

“I-I can't breath,” I gasp, reaching out for him, feeling like a little kid.

He instantly stands up, wrapping his arms around my shoulders.

“What’s happened? Deep breaths, big deep breaths. There you go,” He rubs my back and I breath deeply with him.

My cheek smushed into his chest as I listen to the beating of his heart to help ground me. I pull away, still trembling and shake my head, unsure if I should even be telling Nick this.

This should be Matt.

Nick's eyes search mine, sensing my hesitancy. “You don’t have to talk if you’re not ready,” he says softly, his hands rubbing my shoulders.

I bite my lip, feeling a mix of guilt and desperation.

I don’t want to drag Nick into something so personal, but this is too overwhelming to keep bottled up.

“I… I think I might be pregnant,” I finally whisper, the words barely escaping my lips.

Saying it out loud makes it feel all the more real, and the weight of it presses down on me like a ton of bricks.

Nick’s expression shifts from worry to shock, his mouth falling agape and silence ringing between us. Once he hears me whimper, he snaps out of it and brings me back into a bone crushing hug.

"Shh, okay–it's okay, um…” His voice wavers, and I can feel his heart racing against my cheek.

For a moment, it seems like he’s trying to find the right words, but all that comes out is a nervous laugh.

“This is… wow, this is big. I'm sorry– I don't know what else to say right now,” His voice high pitched and shaky.

I can’t help but let out a shaky laugh with him, even through my anxiety.

“Yeah, big,” I agree, my voice barely above a whisper.

Nick pulls back just enough to look at me, his uncertainty showing in the way his eyes dart around, trying to process everything at once.

“I mean, I’m no expert on this—obviously—but we'll figure this out. You're gonna be okay, everything's gonna be okay.”

His reassurance is genuine, but I can see he's trying to convince himself too; a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

This is uncharted territory for both of us.

Nick and I had decided to order the tests along with the food, killing two birds with one stone. He’s doing his best to stay calm for my sake, but the trembling of his hands as he places the order is hard to miss.

"Okay, tacos and tests are on the way. I got, well, all of them because I don't know which one is best. I even got ice cream. Fuck, when did it get so hot in here? I'm overheating–are you overheating?" He says, his words moving a mile a minute as he fans himself with his shirt.

I can't help but to laugh as his nerves show and he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, I know you're the one potentially knocked up by my idiot brother but I'm just so nervous. I'm sweating like a monster," His voice cracks.

"Do you mind if I use your bath?" I ask and he nods right away.

“Are you kidding? Of course, go ahead. Someone has to use it. I’m gonna…Well, I’ll just wait out here and try to chill.” He gives me a quick, reassuring smile, though it’s clear he’s still on edge.

I head to his bathroom and try to forget about my racing thoughts.

I turn the faucet on and put in some bath salts, checking the temperature before I step over to the vanity mirror. I take a look at my appearance and notice the puffiness in my face right away. My cheeks are flushed and my eyes are bloodshot.

I blow out a raspberry as I undress and get into the hot water.

The heat soothes my aching muscles and clears my mind. I soaked for a while, even draining a bit of the water and refilling the tub with more hot water. Once I feel myself pruning, I decide it's time I get out.

As I dry myself off, I notice light blood on the towel. My heart races, and I quickly check again—I'm bleeding. Very lightly, but there’s blood.

Relief floods through me, and I almost cry again, this time from the emotional whiplash. My legs feel shaky, so I sit down on the edge of the tub to steady myself, my breath coming out in shaky bursts.

Clutching the towel to my chest, I close my eyes and let out a long, relieved sigh.

“Thank God,” I whisper, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

I try not to dwell on the small part of me that almost wanted to feel disappointed. Maybe even mourning the part of me that might have embraced being pregnant–excited, even.

Instead, I focus on center of my emotions, the part where a massive weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Eventually, I pull myself together, cleaning myself up and getting dressed.

When I step out of the bathroom, Nick is on his bed, clearly trying to keep himself distracted. My eyes go to the food and the tests at the foot of the bed.

As soon as he sees me, he shoots up, his expression immediately shifting to one of concern.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice soft. I nod, a small smile breaking through the lingering anxiety.

“I’m okay,” I say, my voice a little shaky. “I uh…I got my period, I think,”

Nick’s face lights up with relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “Oh, thank God,” he shouts, “This is great fucking news—right?” He checks in and I nod.

“Yeah,” I agree, feeling a little dazed by how quickly everything has turned around. “I think we’re in the clear. We won't be needing those tests, I'll pay you back for them,"

Nick ignores me, pulling me into a bear hug, his arms so tight around me, I can barely breath.

“Shut up I don't care,” he says, “You don't have a parasite in you!" He cheers, jumping us up and down.

We both let out laughs, the tension that had been looming over us now replaced with a lightness.

“Let’s eat,” I suggest, letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Nick nods, "Couldn't agree more,"

We sit on his bed and for the first time all day, I feel like I can actually breathe.

As we dig into the tacos, Nick puts Love Island back on and we rot in bed for a few hours.

But even as we talk and laugh, there's still a pit in my stomach. A small portion of me can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t over yet.

Yeah, there's was blood. But it was different than my normal period. It was lighter.

I try not to panic, but I can't help but feel like my intuition is trying to tell me something. For now, I push my thoughts aside, focusing on Nick beside me yelling at the annoying horny people on his TV.

Nick offered for me to sleep in his room but I declined, wanting to sleep in Matt's bed.

Matt never called me, but he texted me apologizing and checking in on me. I listened to a voice memo he sent me of all they did today and I was genuinely glad he was having fun, so I didn't mind him not calling.

Plus, I'm not entirely sure I'm in the right state of mind to have a conversation with him right now. I wouldn't be able to keep today's events to myself.

I know I can’t keep him in the dark—I need to tell him what’s going on.

I glance at the stack of tests on his dresser and sigh. The bleeding from earlier has stopped, leaving me with a pit in my stomach.

I know I’ll have to take those tests, even if only for clarity. But for now, I’m going to force myself to sleep.

I find myself in a place that feels both familiar and strange. It's warm, the sun showering the garden and I immediately know I'm in my grandmother's backyard.

The breeze picks up, carrying the scent of blooming flowers—lilies, hyacinths, peonies, and marigolds—enveloping me in a peacefulness that feels like a comforting blanket.

I walk along the familiar stone path, my fingers grazing the soft petals of the flowers. Each step feeling like a compelling, magnetic pull, guiding me deeper into the garden.

I see her then–my grandmother, seated on a wooden bench beneath the shade of the large oak tree I used to climb as a child.

My breath hitches, she doesn't look sick. Her smile is lively, her cheeks rosy and the green in her eyes vibrant.

But there’s something else different, a kind of ethereal glow about her that sends a chill down my spine.

“Come here, my girl,” she says, her voice soft and inviting.

I walk over to her, feeling a strange mix of emotions: comfort, longing, and an inexplicable sadness.

I sit down beside her and she takes my hand in hers, her touch warm and reassuring.

“I’ve missed you,” I say, my voice thick with emotion, unable to fathom her not sick in a hospital bed.

She smiles, her eyes full of love. “I haven't gone anywhere."

There’s a pause as I try to process her words, but then she looks at me knowingly, another shiver down my spine.

"You're glowing," She hums, tucking my hair behind my ear.

I look at her confused until she places a hand to my stomach. My breath hitches and I can't control the tear that rolls down my cheek.

I shake my head in disbelief, "How...d-do you know?" I whisper, my voice getting lost in the intoxicating breeze.

It's then that I feel a deep flutter in my stomach, one that I can't describe.

I place my hand over my grandmother's that still rests on my stomach. The flutter intensifies, my heart mimicking the pattern as warmth blooms in my chest. The feeling is overwhelming.

An unexpected, joyous sob escapes my lips before I can stop it, tears blurring my vision.

“You're both going to be okay,” My grandmother says softly, gently wiping away my tears.

My lip wobbles and I let out a shaky breath before she speaks up again.

“She’s strong too, just like you.”

“She..?” I squeak. My grandmother’s smile returns, softer this time and she nods.

A wave of shock and confusion washes over me, but before I can ask more, the garden begins to fade. The colors bleeding into each other until everything is a swirl of light.

Her voice echoes as the dream dissolves, “Don't be afraid, Petal.”

I shoot up, my heart racing, my face soaked in tears and my body covered in a cold sweat. I feel disoriented as I take in my surroundings and my mind tries to grasp the remnants of the dream.

My grandmother’s face, her words, the fluttering in my stomach. But now, that fluttering has turned into a twisting feeling in my gut.

Something was wrong.

My phone buzzes, startling me out of my tangled, fuzzy thoughts. My hands tremble slightly as I reach for my phone.

It’s my mom.

“Hello?” I answer, my voice thick with sleep and confusion.

There’s a pause on the other end, and then my mom’s voice comes through, shaky and heavy with emotion.

“Honey...I'm sorry I'm calling you so early, but it’s Grandma....Sh-she passed in her sleep early this morning.”

The words hit me like a punch in the gut, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. She continues to talk but I can't hear her, my ears ring and time slows down.

A flood of emotions overcome me.

Grief, shock, and the strange sense that the dream was more than just a figment of my imagination.

As the reality of her passing sinks in, I’m left with the weight of her final words to me. She was telling me something important, something I can’t ignore anymore.

My stomach twists again and I bolt to the bathroom where I throw up until I'm dry heaving into the toilet.

-

I'm not even shocked when the test immediately shows up positive. I stare blankly at the two pink lines, the only hint of emotion is the tremor in my hand as I grab the test and chuck it into the trash can.

I feel numb.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I see the emptiness in my eyes, the darkness encasing them. The person staring back is a stranger.

I'm pregnant.

I should be feeling joy, maybe even excitement—I want to at least, but all I feel is nothing. My experience overshadowed by my grief. By the anomaly of this situation, how this could have happened.

I have an IUD, I was bleeding, but here we are.

I wanted Matt to be the first to know, to share in that moment with him, but now everything feels wrong, out of order.

I feel robbed of the happiness I should be feeling.

I step into the shower and let the scalding hot water claw at my skin. I finally let myself break down, grief rattling through me and slicing me open.

My dream replays in my mind over and over again. My grandmother's eyes, her warmth, her words, her hand on my stomach.

“You’re both going to be okay,”

My hand instinctively goes to my stomach. I press my palm into my abdomen, expecting to feel that flutter, desperate to feel any sort of connection with the life that's there–to cling to the intense joy from my dream...but there's nothing.

It was ripped away from me from the moment I woke up.

“She’s strong too, just like you,”

I whimper, the sound dissolving into the rush of the water.

I don’t feel strong. I feel weak.

My grandmother told me not to be afraid, but I can’t escape this overwhelming anxiety, the suffocating uncertainty that engulfs me.

The tightness in my chest, the heaviness in my heart, the deep-seated guilt that festers within me.

I cry and cry and cry until I can’t anymore, until the tears run dry, leaving only the ache in my chest.

When the water turns cold and the sun fully rises, is when I finally get out. My feet drag beneath me as I walk back into Matt's room and get dressed.

I pull on one of Matt's crewnecks and some sweats before I go into the kitchen to make a tea.

I make myself an Earl Grey, my grandmother's favorite.

I sit down at the dining table and book the first flight back home to Maine, which is tomorrow morning. My mom and I spoke again and she told me the funeral isn't until next week, but I wanted to be there for her. I couldn’t stay here right now.

My stomach growls loudly and I press my palms into my eye sockets. I suppose I should really eat something with substance, especially now.

I grab the berries from the fridge that are in their last leg, washing them before forcing myself to eat. The tartness of the blueberries sparks a memory of helping my grandmother make blueberry pancakes on Sunday mornings. I smile sadly at the fond memory of being her little sous chef.

When 7 AM rolls around, restlessness overtakes me and I step outside, sitting in the front stoop before calling Matt.

"You're up early," His voice thick with sleep as he greets me through the line.

"Hey," I say weakly, letting out a sigh as I gaze up at the clear sky. There's not a single cloud in sight.

"What's wrong?" His tone immediately shifts to concern.

"Matt... my grandma passed this morning," I start, my voice trembling slightly.

I omit the dream and the positive pregnancy test in his bathroom, grateful that he can't see my face.

There's a heavy sigh on the other end. "I'm so sorry. I know she was sick for a while... Are you doing okay? How's your mom?"

"I'm... managing. And my mom, she's actually doing okay. I think we're all relieved in a way, you know? It was only a matter of time. I'm just glad she's not suffering anymore," I navigate my feelings about her passing, my voice surprisingly steady.

"Of course," His voice is so soft, fueling my longing for his touch.

"Do you think…there's any way you can change your flight on Tuesday to go to Maine? The funeral isn’t until next Thursday, but I’m getting there tomorrow afternoon." I ask, playing with a loose string on my sweatpants.

"Of course, I'll look at flights right now," he responds without hesitation.

"Thank you, I just....I need you there," I tell him, feeling a tightness in my chest when I avoid mentioning the conversation we need to have.

"I'll be there. I found a flight that will get me there tomorrow night."

"Matt–" I start to protest.

"I already changed it. No refunds," He cuts me off, his voice firm. "Sweetheart, you need me, I'm not going to make you wait until fucking Tuesday."

"What about the rest of your trip? You'll miss the rest of the festival, and Chris–" I try and reason with him.

"Listen to me carefully...I don't give a fuck about the festival. You need me there, and I'm going to be there. Chris will be fine, he's a big boy. He has Sam here with him and they'll fly back to LA together," His tone leaving no room for argument, his mind was made up.

A small, grateful smile tugs at my lips as tears well up in my eyes.

"I love you," I manage to say, my voice trembles with emotion.

"I love you, so much it hurts. I wish I could hug you right now but I'll see you tomorrow, okay? I’m gonna go talk to Chris, text me or call me if you need me. I mean it, kid."

“I will,” I promise, ending the call and looking up at the sky again, wrapping my arms around myself as the cool morning air brushes against my skin.

I take a deep breath, the air filling my lungs grounding me. As I exhale, I try to focus on the one thing I know for sure—I may not feel strong, but I need to be and not just for myself, but for the life growing inside of me.

My grandmother's words echo in my mind.

"Don't be afraid, Petal."

–

Nick wakes up shortly after, only taking one look at me before I’m breaking down again—the weight of everything crashing down on me like another tidal wave.

I tell him everything, my dream, my grandmother's passing, I show him the positive pregnancy test.

I cry into his chest, feeling overwhelmed.

"I'm just s-so confused," I manage to say between sobs. "In my dream, I was so happy... everything felt right. I felt connected with..." My words trail off, dissolving into incoherent blubbering.

Nick just listens, rubbing my back in slow, soothing circles.

"Listen," he begins softly, "your body is under a lot of stress right now. You just found out about your grandma, and then this very unexpected news on top of it… Every single emotion you’re feeling is normal, and 100 percent valid. But you have so many people by your side who love you and will help you through this, no matter what you decide..."

I sniffle, trying to regulate my breathing as I take in his words.

"I'm angry, too," I admit, my voice cracking with the strain of holding it all in. "This is so unfair. The timing of this couldn't be worse... I can't even talk to Matt and I feel awful keeping this from him. He shouldn't have to find out like this."

"Everything is going to be okay, deep breaths," Nick repeats, his voice calm as he helps me process the flood of emotions.

I blow out a raspberry, pulling back and running my hands down my face in frustration. When I look at him, he's watching me cautiously, trying to read my expression.

"I'm pregnant," I say softly, the words finally leaving my lips for the first time.

A mix of emotions swirls in my chest and stomach—fear, uncertainty, a strange kind of acceptance.

Nick nods slowly, his eyes still scanning my face, and for a moment, I find myself imagining if this was me telling Matt.

More dread fills me.

How will he react? Will he be the support I need?

We’ve talked about having kids before. They were always in the cards for us, but never this soon.

We only just started to discuss getting our own place and now our lives are going to be changing forever.

Nick helped me pack as I tried to arrange a last-minute appointment to confirm my pregnancy, which proved to be quite the ordeal.

The receptionists initially inform me that they didn't have any openings for weeks. However, when I mention the IUD and a positive pregnancy test, the urgency in their voice shifted dramatically.

They told me to come in right away.

The urgency in the receptionists voice on the phone didn’t help my nerves. Neither when they took me straight into an examination room the minute I told them my name.

They take my vitals, draw my blood and give me a cup to pee in.

I left Nick in the waiting room, dressing down into the gown they placed neatly on the exam chair. I look around at the diagrams of the fetuses and the posters of the development. I’ve seen these countless times and never thought twice, but this time I feel unsettled.

I swallow thickly and sit on the loud crinkly paper with the anticipation of the doctor coming in soon.

There’s a soft double knock on the door before a head of wild, curly hair peeks in.

“Hello, hello. I’m Dr. Sullivan,” She says washing her hands and sitting down on the swivel stool next to the examination chair.

The woman has a mane of big, unruly curls that frame her face, with chunky black square-framed glasses perched on her slightly humped nose, drawing attention to her bright hazel eyes. A wide smile, complete with a distinctive gap between her two front teeth, radiates warmth and adds to her quirky charm. She almost seems like a character out of a cartoon—lanky, with an energetic, bouncy stride that matches her bubbly personality. She can't be much older than my mother.

"So, you are in fact pregnant. The lab results confirmed the presence of HCG, which is the hormone produced during pregnancy. "

“Do you have any idea how this happened? I mean, obviously I know how it happened but, I have an IUD.” I say, still trying to wrap my head around the situation.

She nods dramatically, her lips pressing into a line as she listens to my concerns.

“Unfortunately, no birth control is 100 percent effective. In most cases, the IUD might have been displaced, or in some instances, the body rejects the device without you knowing. I actually would like to get clarity on that with an ultrasound, but I think it’s important for you to know the risks of this scenario here.” She says, turning slightly more serious.

“Risks?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” she says softly, “There is a possibility that, due to you having an IUD, this pregnancy may not be viable. Having an IUD increases the risk of what we call an ectopic pregnancy... are you familiar with that term?” Her hazel eyes lock onto mine and I shake my head, my heart starting to pound.

“Well, because you have a contraceptive device in the space where a fetus would normally develop, there's a risk that the pregnancy could occur outside the uterus. Typically the egg will implant itself in the fallopian tubes, which cannot host a safe or viable pregnancy...And if not treated immediately, the tube can rupture and cause internal hemorrhaging," She explains gently, carefully choosing her words to convey the seriousness of the situation.

I feel my heartbeat in my ears now as I process her words.

"So you're saying, this can be life threatening...for me and the..." My throat closes up and I can't finish my sentence.

She must take notice of the panic in my face, her round eyes widening slightly.

"If it goes untreated, yes. But I don't say this to make you panic, you're in good hands and whatever happens, we will take the next steps together." She places a hand on my knee, giving the tissue box so I can dry my uncontrollable tears.

"Based on your last period, you should be about seven weeks along. This ultrasound will confirm that and also ensure the pregnancy is positioned in the uterus. Before we proceed, I'd like to ask you a few questions... do you need a minute?" she asks gently, noticing my unease.

I hiccup and shake my head. "N-no, I'll be okay. Sorry," I mumble, wiping my nose.

"Don't apologize," she says kindly, giving me a moment to collect myself anyway, which I appreciate.

For a moment, I consider calling Nick in, but I decide against it. Even though we're close, this may be a little too personal, even for him and I.

"Have you been experiencing any cramping or discomfort in your back or abdomen?" She asks and typing my answer into the computer as I tell her no.

"Any spotting or bleeding?"

"I had some light bleeding last night, it only lasted maybe an hour... I had thought it was my period, but I knew something was off." I explain to her and she nods.

"That was most likely implantation bleeding, which is normal. It can be light spotting of blood, or some women experience heavy bleeding, similar to a period." She continues to take her notes before looking to me again, "Any tenderness in your breasts?"

"Oh, for sure. My breasts have been very sore the past few days,"

"Any nausea or vomiting?"

"Yes, the last couple of days–especially at night, I've been vomiting. I haven't really been sleeping well because of it."

"Yeah, the term 'morning sickness' is misleading... It can happen any time of day, you seem to be experiencing yours during the evening. Any other symptoms you've noticed that you'd like to note?" She asks and I try to think of some things.

"Uhh, I guess I've been more tired than usual, but I chalked that up to being up all night sick...I've also been getting hot flashes recently and I've definitely been more emotional,"

"These are all good to note, thank you very much," She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose before typing again.

She swivels herself back towards me, smiling warmly.

"We'll go ahead with the ultrasound now. But to get an accurate picture, we're going to do a transvaginal ultrasound, if that's okay with you."

"Okay, that's fine," I say, shakily.

She pulls the ultrasound cart to toward her before standing to move the stirrups into place so I can place my feet into them. She places a privacy cloth over me and I take a deep breath.

She puts a covering on the sheath of the ultrasound wand and places lubricant on the top of it. She taps a few buttons on the computer, calibrating the machine before turning towards me with a reassuring smile.

"So this will feel cold and you might feel a little pressure but if you feel any discomfort don't be afraid to tell me." She informs before placing the device inside to create the image.

I try not to wince and try to relax as much as possible. I go to look toward the screen but she has it faced towards her, so I opt to reading her facial expressions.

Dr. Sullivan adjusts her glasses by putting them on the tip of her nose and tilting her head back to get a better view.

She's quite animated with her expressions, her mouth opening slightly in concentration as she looks over the screen.

Although I can't see what she's looking at, she seems pleased, which is a relief.

"Okay, so good sign so far, I see your IUD," Dr. Sullivan says, leaning forward and pointing to the screen. "I can clearly see that it's sitting at the top of your cervix. It’s shifted down and away from your uterus. Do you happen to experience heavy cramping during your cycle?" she asks, her fingers tapping some buttons on the monitor.

"Yes, I do," I reply, the worry still gnawing at me.

She nods thoughtfully. "That could explain the displacement. Sometimes, intense cramping can cause the IUD to shift from its original position. It’s not common, but it does happen. It’s good that we’ve caught it now."

"I see the embryonic sac in, from what I can tell, a great spot. You're measuring at about 6 or 7 weeks along. Size of a blueberry." She says and I stop breathing.

I don't even hesitate to say yes as she asks if I would like to see.

My eyes are glued to the screen as I follow where her finger points, focusing on the grainy image. There it is—a tiny black oval with an even tinier dot in the middle. It's so small, I almost think I'm looking at the wrong thing.

“That’s... them?” I whisper, my voice barely audible as I try to comprehend the sight in front of me.

Dr. Sullivan nods, her expression tender. "That's your baby. It's early, but everything looks promising..."

"Really?" I squeak, still in disbelief, my throat tightening with sudden emotion as more tears fall down my face.

Relief— as she nods in confirmation, handing me the tissue box again.

Hope— as she zooms in, showing me the flickering of the heartbeat.

Joy—as I hear the heartbeat, feeling it sync with the thumping of my own.

For the first time since my dream, I feel joy, something beyond the crippling dread that had loomed over me all day. My heart swells and then bursts as I continue to stare at the flickering dot on the screen, blinking away the tears that blur my vision.

I breathe in shakily before a laugh escapes through a sob.

"Nice strong heartbeat, everything looks as it should... this looks like a healthy pregnancy," Dr. Sullivan announces, gently removing the ultrasound wand but keeping a looped video on the screen, allowing me a few more moments to take it all in.

"She's strong too, just like you,"

"So, the next step—for your safety—would be to remove the IUD today," she continues, her tone calm yet serious. "We can also discuss your options moving forward, including your decision on whether or not you would like to continue with the pregnancy. It's important to weigh all the possibilities and make the choice that's right for you."

"I-I'm gonna continue the pregnancy. It was in no way planned, but–"

"You don't need to explain...I had a feeling" She dismisses me gently, giving me a knowing smile, "I guess this calls for a congratulations,"

"Thank you," I say just above my breath, warmth still blooming through my chest.

After Dr. Sullivan removes my IUD, she tells me to dress while she steps out to calculate my due date.

I stare at the printed ultrasound picture, my heart swelling with a fierce protectiveness. I’m not worried about the complications or uncertainties ahead right now. All that matters is this life inside me.

I feel much stronger than I did merely hours ago.

My due date was February 7th, the same as my grandmother’s birthday.

–

I had landed in Maine a few hours ago, my mom and I were organizing all of my grandma's belongings. We spent the afternoon together, grabbing lunch before heading over to my grandmother's house.

The house always felt like a time capsule, preserving every memory. The duck wallpaper in the dining room, the scent of pine and clove, the worn couch cushions, her miniature schnauzer figurine collection, and the framed pressed flowers from her children’s weddings—everything was always in its rightful place. It always looked the same.

Memories of me and my siblings spending weekends here whirling behind my eyelids as I inhale the familiar scent.

It evokes a bittersweet feeling.

We keep the mood light, sharing stories with each memory we packed away. I still saw the flicker of sadness in my mom's eyes, even through her laughter as we reminisced.

Sitting on the carpet in the living room, we go through the boxes full of pictures to put together a collage for the funeral. I come across a picture of my mother pregnant with my older brother.

It's a candid photo in the kitchen of my grandmother's house, her hand resting on her swollen belly that pokes out the bottom of her blue shirt, a soft smile on her face. My grandmother is beside her, beaming with pride, tying an apron around her waist.

My mother looked so young, her freckles prominent on her flushed cheeks and her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.

I was always told I looked more like my dad, but seeing her like this, so close to my own age now, I can't help but notice the resemblance.

My mom notices my pause and looks over my shoulder. "That was just a few weeks before your brother was born," she says softly, her voice laced with nostalgia. "Your grandmother knew we were having a boy from the moment we told her,"

Her words send a chill down my spine.

I linger on the photo, feeling a wave of emotion rise up at the mention of my grandmother as the weight of my own news presses heavier on my chest.

"Were you really sick, when you were pregnant?" I ask, lowly.

She hums in thought, "With your brother? Only for maybe the first few weeks. With you though? Forget about it, I was sick everyday for months."

I stay silent for a moment, studying another photo of my mom and dad in the hospital room with my brother the day he was born. My mom is in the hospital bed, looking tired but radiant, while my dad is crouched next to her, gently cradling my brother in his arms.

"He was so bald," I laugh softly, and my mom chuckles beside me.

"His hair was so blonde, it was practically see-through. Your father called him 'egghead' for the first two months of his life," she says, shaking her head and rolling her eyes with a smile.

I look at the photo again, my gaze lingering on my mom's face. Her expression is filled with such warmth and love as she looks at my dad.

"How did you tell dad? You guys were both pretty young," I ask and she stifles a laugh.

"We actually found out together in a gas station bathroom..." She starts off with a slightly shameful smile, "I had been so sick on our camping trip with your aunt and uncle, so I decided on our way back home to take a test. We were shocked to say the least, but we were happy," She shrugs casually.

I think about how I was alone when I found out I was pregnant. Matt wasn't there, and it wasn't his fault, but the last 36 hours of keeping this from him has been torture.

The moment I saw the second line show up with fresh cold sweat still rolling down my neck, I had to bottle up this relentless guilt.

I feel guilt. It wasn't anyone's fault. This is the most serendipitous situation I've ever been in, but I put the blame on me. I have a choice and I'm choosing the route that will completely flip our already hectic lives upside down.

Tethering us together for life.

Even if this decision it feels right, it still carries an enormous weight. It’s not just my life that’s about to change—it's Matt’s too.

I have no doubt Matt will be supportive, but when you're left alone with your thoughts long enough, you can convince yourself of anything.

I've spent every waking minute wondering how he'll react, imagining every possible scenario, from the worst to the best. It's been an endless loop of 'what ifs,' and it’s taken everything in me not to just blurt it out over the phone.

"Were you scared at all? I mean, weren't you like 20?" I press, searching for reassurance in her response.

Her eyes widen before nodding, "Oh, we were scared shitless. Your father almost passed out. We had no idea what we were doing, but hey, we survived. For better or for worse,"

I nod, looking down at my lap and fidgeting with my fingers. My chest feels tight, and the weight of everything becomes almost unbearable.

"Mom, there's something I need to tell you... I–"

"I know," She looks at me with a small smile, her green eyes glistening with tears.

My brows furrow together, giving her a confused look.

"You do?" I ask, my voice trembling.

She shrugs, "I know everything, I'm your mom... Plus, you gagged at the smell of chicken today, that was a dead giveaway." She bites back a smirk and I cover my face, laughing through some tears before looking at her again.

"I guess I’m not as good at hiding things as I thought."

"You never were," She says softly as she scoots closer to me, bringing me into her warm embrace.

I sigh deeply into her, squeezing her tight and breathing in her comforting scent.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, still holding onto me.

"Scared shitless..." I joke and we share a laugh before she pulls back to wipe the tears that escaped against my will, "But I'm happy," I admit, scanning my mother's face for any sign of judgement.

There was none.

She wipes her own few tears, looking at me with only love in her eyes.

"My baby's having a baby,"

"I think grandma sent me this baby," I whisper, allowing my emotions to come through.

My mom tucks my hair behind my ear with her gentle, comforting touch and she listens intently as I tell her my dream. We hold onto each other and cry. I then show her the ultrasound pictures and we talk until the sun disappears.

My phone buzzes softly and I check the message to find Matt’s text that he’s landed and on his way. The reality of his imminent arrival causes a mixed-wave of nausea and guilt to wash over me.

My mom looks at me with a reassuring smile.

"I'll leave you two be so you can talk. I'll see you in the morning, my love." She tells me softly, kissing my cheek and hugging me tight.

Matt and I were gonna stay here during our time in Maine. It's best right now that we have our own space, especially since my brother and his girlfriend are staying by my parents house.

As she heads out, I take a deep breath and text Matt to let him know the door is unlocked. I slip into the shower, trying to calm my racing thoughts and steady my nerves. The warm water helps, but my mind keeps racing as I mentally prepare for the conversation ahead.

Wrapped in a towel, I check my reflection in the mirror, trying to see if I look any more put together than before.

I think this is the best we're going to get.

I jump when I here the front door open and shut, then some feet shuffling. My heart skips a beat.

Matt's here.

"It's just me," I hear him call out as well as more shuffling and a paper bag crinkling.

"Hey! I-I'll be right out!" I call back out, my heart picking up again but I take a deep breath.

I quickly get dressed in a tank top and shorts; there's a heat wave here, and I can't figure out how to adjust the thermostat.

I step out of the bathroom to see Matt standing at the kitchen island, unpacking burgers and fries onto the counter. The aroma of it makes my stomach growl and I realize I hadn't eaten anything since lunch.

I admire him for a second; he's wearing pink sweatpants, a black hoodie and a backwards fitted hat.

He turns at the sound of my presence and his face softens. I'm trembling when he steps forward to embrace me into a tight hug. He buries his face into my neck before giving me a few kisses there.

"Hi," I breath out, my voice shaky.

I was so nervous.

"Hey, you okay?" His voice is so soft, my heart aches. He pulls away, rubbing his hands up and down my arms while scanning my face.

"You're shaking. What's going on?" He presses.

He knows something is up, he can see it all over my face. I shake my head, brushing it off to have one more minute with him.

I pull him back to me, wrapping my arms around his neck this time and locking him against me. He bends down a bit to accommodate but doesn't question it, just hugging me back. His arms wrapping around my waist and pressing our stomachs together.

My heart is slamming against my ribcage and I know he can feel it, his thumb rubbing my hip soothingly tells me he does.

"How are you doing?" His voice is muffled with his face buried into my neck.

"I'm okay, better now that you're here. I missed you," I mumble, kissing the side of his neck and running my hand down between his shoulder blades.

I breathe him in, noting the warmth of him and the solidness of his body against me.

"I missed you... I brought us food. I don't know about you, but I'm fucking starving," He puts his hands on my hips to pull back from the hug, but I stay put.

He chuckles, giving me one more squeeze.

I pull back just enough to line our faces up and give him a kiss, which he eagerly returns.

"Thank you for being here, it means a lot," I say against his lips and he pulls back slightly to push my hair out of my face.

"I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else." He hums into another kiss, then places three quick pecks before giving my butt a light tap, signaling that it’s time to let him go.

I finally release him and head to the food on the counter.

"I passed a Five Guys on the way here, so I hope that's good for you," He grabs a handful of fries before munching on them.

As I reach the counter, the smell of the burgers makes my mouth water, and I can’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness.

“Five Guys is perfect, thank you,” I say, grabbing a fry from the bag and tasting its salty warmth.

Matt grins, clearly pleased with himself. “Good, because I was too hungry to think of anything else,” he jokes, unwrapping one of the burgers and handing it to me.

I take it, thanking him quietly, my fingers brushing against his. For a moment, I just look at him.

He’s here, and I should be telling him I’m pregnant with his child, but instead, we’re standing in the kitchen eating burgers. As if I’m trying to cling to this last bit of normalcy before everything changes.

I force myself to take a bite of my burger, moaning at the greasy, savory goodness. Matt smirks at me, taking a hearty bite of his own burger.

“S’good?” he asks through his bite, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

I nod, moaning again in response, savoring the taste as it temporarily distracts me from everything else.

Matt takes a sip of his drink before bringing a napkin to my face and wiping the corner of my mouth and chin.

"Wipe ya lip, kid," He teases and I roll my eyes, grabbing the napkin from him.

Matt inhales another large bite of his burger, and we slip into our familiar rhythm.

He tells me about his brief trip to Chicago, and I’m relieved to hear he managed to gather a few funny stories and catch at least one day of the festival. He’s notably enthusiastic while he talks, and I can’t help but smile at his excitement.

He also reassured me that Chris wasn't upset at all, which I already knew from the sweet text he sent me this morning.

“Well, I’m glad you had fun,” I say, trying to match his enthusiasm.

I then give him the rundown for the next few days while we prepare for the funeral and memorial.

We continue eating, the conversation shifting to lighter topics as we enjoy the burgers and each other’s company.

It feels so easy, so light. It always is with us. But underneath the surface, the words I need to say weigh heavy on my mind, threatening to break the easy rhythm.

Matt watches me closely, his own burger forgotten for the moment as he sees me disappear inside my head again.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, his eyes look between mine. “You seem… I don’t know, you're acting weird.” He tries to find the right words.

"Matt..." I go to dismiss him, getting up slowly but he cuts me off, standing up too.

"No, I'm serious. You've been acting weird for days, and I'm no longer 2000 miles away for you to push me away or avoid me." He steps closer to me, trapping me against the counter with his arms on either side of me.

"Is it about your grandma? Did something else happen while I was gone?" He throws out, looking between my eyes.

"I–" I try to speak up but my voice gets caught in my throat and I get lost in the icy storm of his relentless gaze.

"It's not just my grandma," I manage to say, the admission causing him to soften slightly, a glimmer of relief at the small breakthrough.

"Okay, so talk to me, sweetheart. Please, I've been worried sick about you. You have no idea," he pleads, his breath brushing against my skin.

"I didn't know how to tell you..." I try to put together my words but I feel like I'm making it all worse.

I watch as his eyebrows pinch together and he leans down more so he's eye level with me instead towering over me.

"Tell me what, kid. I'm not a mind reader," His voice strains, frustration evident in his face.

When I try to break eye contact with him he pulls my chin to align our eyes again.

"What, d'you crash my car?" he guesses, clearly joking, his eyebrows raising playfully.

I can't help but smile and snort at his attempt to ease the tension.

"No, it’s not that," I say, my voice cracking slightly. "It's much bigger than that," I trail off and he waits expectantly.

"I uh– I went to the doctor yesterday," I pause and study his face, which drops ever so slightly, seeming to be bracing himself.

He stays silent, whether it was out of patience or fear, nothing could have prepared for my next sentence.

"I went to confirm that I was pregnant," I finally blurt out, my voice shaky, and he freezes.

Not one muscle moves in his face or his body.

"You're..." His voice cracks and he clears his dry throat, hitting his chest, "Are you serious?"

"I'm seven weeks, or a month and a half," I stammer, my voice wavering. "I don't really know how to—"

"Seven..." He whispers in disbelief, the shock settling in and I nod. "Y-you were on birth control– you have that AED–"

"IUD, yes, I did. It still happened, that shit is useless if it moves out of place," I explain and he looks down between us.

"A-and everything's okay, you're okay?" He looks up at me again, holding onto my face.

I take hold of his wrists, rubbing my thumb over his skin.

"I'm fine, the baby's fine..." I say softly and his eyes widen in realization as he pales.

"Oh my fucking god," He pulls back, cupping his hands over his mouth. "I need to sit down."

"Okay, okay. Do you want water?" I panic, hoping he doesn't pass out or puke.

He takes a seat at the dining table, shaking his head before taking off his hat and leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Oh my god, I thought I was crazy..." He says, his voice cracking with nerves as he presses his palms into his eye sockets.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"I had a feeling all fucking week," he says, his voice still shaky, and my brows knit together.

"I knew something was up. You were acting different. You were moodier than usual, you were napping all the time—and you never nap... and your tits are huge," he adds, and I roll my eyes.

"Sorry, that’s beside the point," he continues quickly, "I just couldn’t shake the feeling that you could be... I think I was trying to convince myself you weren't, but then you were so sick before I left," he rambles, staring blankly at the wall.

"It's a lot to take in, I know." I swallow thickly as I watch him process everything.

"You're pregnant," he says finally, looking at me again, this time with tears brimming his eyes. "And you were dealing with all of this by yourself," His voice is low and I shake my head, moving to stand between his legs, cupping his face gently.

"Hey, no. None of that... How could you have known?" I shush him and pull his head towards my chest.

His hands rest behind my thighs, his thumb lightly stroking my right leg. I run my fingers through his hair, comforting him as much as he's comforting me.

"I've been so scared to tell you..." I confess softly and he pulls back slightly, looking up at me with his brows furrowed.

"I know this wasn't part of our plan...at least not for a while. But before I took a test, the night my grandma passed, I had a dream. I was here, in my grandmother's garden... and she told me I was pregnant. Matt, the feeling I had," I pause, struggling to find the right words.

"It was the most intense, pure form of happiness I've ever felt. I can't even describe it to you..." I trail off.

I shake my head, "I know, I sound crazy. But I think this was meant to happen." I whisper, heat creeping up my neck at the admission.

He’s silent for a moment, absorbing my words. Then, a slow smirk carves a crease into the side of his mouth. "You are fucking crazy…" he murmurs, his playful tone breaking the tension as his smile lines deepen.

I huff a breathy laugh, the sound catching in my throat as my emotions take over again. Tears blur my vision, and I can’t hold them back any longer.

"Are you mad?" I squeak, letting my fear slip through the dam I built up.

He's immediately shaking his head, his eyes widen with sincerity, "Mad? Of course not. I mean, I thought we'd maybe get a cat first but..." He says, quirking his lip and I can't help the laugh that escapes through a sob.

I was the definition of an emotional wreck.

He gently squeezes my hips as I tip my head back to collect myself.

"Look at me," he says firmly, and I sniffle and hiccup before forcing myself to look at him. "Am I surprised? Yes. Terrified? Definitely. But, not even close to mad."

He wipes my tears tenderly, "We're going to be okay. Take it easy, alright? Deep breaths," His tone gentle but assertive, dragging me out of the pit of my dark thoughts.

I sigh as his thumbs draw circles on the exposed skin on my hips.

"I'm sorry," I say and he pulls me to sit sideways on his lap this time.

"Why are you sorry?" he asks softly, intertwining our fingers and bringing my hand to his mouth for a kiss.

"Our lives are going to change and I feel like it's my fault,"

"C'mere," He pulls me in fully, wrapping his arms around my waist. "I love you, and we're going to get through this... We were gonna do it anyway; we're just getting a headstart, yeah? Everything is going to work out," He tells me softly and I can tell he means every word.

Matt never says anything he doesn't mean.

"Also, don't say stupid shit like this is your fault. Last time I checked, it takes two to tango," He says firmly, lightly slapping my hip.

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat as I lean into him completely, resting my head on his shoulder. His hand rubs gentle circles on my back, and I close my eyes, letting myself soak in the comfort of his presence.

"I missed you so much," I whisper, my voice muffled against his shirt. "I've been so sick, this kid might be trying to kill me," I try to joke, and he breathes a laugh into my shoulder.

A few beats of silence pass, broken only by the distant sound of crickets outside and the occasional creak of the old house settling.

"We're having a kid," He speaks up, realization laced in his voice and I hum against him. "Maybe we're both fucking crazy,"

I stifle a laugh and pull back to look at him, "D'wanna see it?" I ask, getting up from his lap and he looks to my stomach with a raised brow.

"Kid, you're not showing yet," he says, leaning back into the chair with his arms crossed, a playful smirk on his face and I roll my eyes.

"No, the ultrasound. Hold on," I say as I head to the counter to grab the pictures from my bag.

I pull out the strip of photos, and when I turn back, I see Matt standing up and stretching. He takes off his sweatshirt and his shirt riding up slightly, exposing a sliver of his stomach. Heat rises to my face but I can't stare too long though because he's walking towards me to look over my shoulder.

"Okay, what am I lookin' at?" He stands behind me, his hands on his hips as his head tilts in concentration.

"You see this black circle here?" I point to the sonogram, and he leans in closer, his breath warm against my neck as he grabs hold of the paper to steady it.

"Yeah, that's it?" He asks, narrowing his eyes and I giggle.

"No, do you see the tinier white blob inside it? That's the baby." I explain and his face scrunches for a second, looking at the picture again.

"No fucking way," he says in disbelief, a wide smile breaking across his face. "That tiny thing?" His voice raises a pitch as he looks at me, eyes wide with awe, "Can barely fucking see that," He says playfully before rubbing his eyes.

"Mhm," I can't help but giggle as he wraps an arm around me, pulling me in and placing a kiss to my temple. "Just wait til you hear it, the heartbeat was insane. It was so fast," I add and he freezes.

The realization in his face settles in even deeper as I tell him that, his soft smile returning.

"You heard the heartbeat?" He whispers, looking between my eyes and I nod.

"Yeah, yesterday. They emailed me the video of it, I'll show you in a bit if you want," I tell him and he kisses me then like he can't help himself.

"That's fucking nuts... do you feel pregnant?" he asks, his voice curious and his eyes slowly lowering to my stomach peaking out of my tank top.

I shake my head, "Not at all. I just feel like shit... and constantly bloated," I admit, laughing softly.

He lightly chuckles himself, a charmed smile on his face as he reaches to rubs my stomach a couple times.

"We're really gonna have to lock in, kid." He moves around me to pull me into a full hug, pressing our stomachs together.

"Okay, gamer...acting like this is a video game," I scoff teasingly and he bends down, laughing into my neck.

"Well, what else do you want me to say? We're leveling up in life–" he continues the joke and I jab his side with my finger.

"Ow," he fake-cries, clutching his side with exaggerated pain before breaking into a fit of giggles.

"Stop saying corny shit, you goof," I warn, though his laughter makes it impossible not to smile.

I bury my face in his chest, my ear pressed against his heart as we settle into a comfortable silence.

"Now we really gotta get our own place," He says and I can hear his smirk.

"I don't know…" I shrug slightly, considering. "Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to stick around for a bit. It might be nice to have the extra help before we go completely on our own."

He pulls back slightly to look at me, tilting his head with an inquisitive expression. "You really think my brothers will be any help? They don’t know anything about babies."

I snort. “Probably not, but neither do we." I reason and his mouth shrugs in defeat.

"Good point... I guess we can wait it out, we're not in a rush. It'll definitely give us more time to research where would want to be somewhat permanently," He points out.

I hum into him and try not stress about that. The reality is we'd be putting ourselves in a tough spot—both our families are here on the East Coast, but our jobs and lives are rooted in LA.

It's easy to go back and forth when it was just us, but now we're gonna have a kid.

"I already hear your mind racing," his voice breaks me out of my thoughts as he rubs my back. "Don't worry, we'll figure it out..." he says softly, and I sigh deeply.

My stomach turns when I get a whiff of the food still laid out on the table.

"Matt," I say, pulling back slowly, holding my stomach.

"Mm?" he hums, looking at me with concern as I put my hand over my mouth.

"The smell of those burgers is making me sick now," I try not to laugh, and he shakes his head, immediately tossing all the trash into the large paper bag it came in.

"Alright, where's the incinerator?"

[oikarma]

look me in the eye | pt.3

pairing: max verstappen x rbr!engineer!reader

summary: the rb21 is unfixable-the whole world knows that, now-but you've become so much more than just his engineer and they should know that too.

a/n: i just...max verstappen...and thank you guys sm for the love you've shown this series! here is the last part <3

part one / part two / part three

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The moment you step out of the storage room-you figured that out when Max shoved you against a nice metal rack and some probably important things crashed to the ground-reality crashes down on you like a tidal wave.

You just kissed Max Verstappen.

Max Verstappen just kissed you.

You don't know how it can get worse, but it will. He looks completely at ease, like he didn't just change the trajectory of your entire life in the span of a few heated seconds. Meanwhile, you feel like you're about to combust. Your lips are still tingling, your mind racing, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of the noise outside: the team is still celebrating, the media is still circling, and maybe you're being a little dramatic but people will want answers that you can't give.

Max notices your panic before you can even say anything. He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. "Breathe."

You shoot him a glare that lacks any real venom. "Don't tell me what to do."

His lips twitch. "Then don't look like you’re about to pass out." Which is ironic, because if he hadn't kissed you senseless, you probably wouldn't look like...whatever you look like right now. You need a mirror. Your hair is all messed up from the frenzy-his is too, though it suits his post-race look-and you straighten the collar of your shirt.

Damn you. You shove past him, desperate for space, for air, for something that isn't Max Verstappen and his infuriating ability to act like everything is fine. Your body betrays you, though, because even as you move, you feel his warmth lingering, his presence like a gravitational pull you can’t escape.

And then, as if the universe is determined to make your life a nightmare, Christian Horner appears. The devil himself.

You barely manage to school your expression into something neutral as he approaches, eyes sharp, mouth set in a line that promises nothing good.

"Max." He nods at Red Bull's star driver before turning to you. "We need to talk."

Max doesn't move. "She's busy," he quips.

You whip your head toward him, eyes wide. "Max."

Christian doesn't look amused. "Now."

You sigh, throwing Max one last look before following Christian into one of the back offices. The second the door closes, he lets out a heavy breath and pinches the bridge of his nose like he's trying to will away a migraine.

"You know why we're here."

You cross your arms, steeling yourself. "If this is about that stupid interview-"

"Stupid?" Christian cuts you off and his eyes narrow quickly. "Do you have any idea what you just walked into? The media is losing it. The fans are in a frenzy. And now I have PR breathing down my neck asking if Max Verstappen is in a relationship with one of his engineers."

This isn't good. No, not at all. Today is not a good day to have Christian Horner mad at you. "It's not-"

"It doesn't matter what it is," Christian interrupts. "Believe me. The only thing I care about is what it looks like."

You don't have an argument for that. Because he's right. Perception is everything in this sport, and right now, the perception is that you are tangled up in something that no team principal wants to deal with.

Christian sighs and it's like all his fury is evaporating. "Look. I really don't care what you do in your personal life. I don't even care what Max does, as long as he keeps winning. But I need to know if this is going to be a problem."

You hesitate. "Define 'a problem.'"

Christian levels you with a look. "Are you going to be a distraction? To him? To yourself?"

Your mind flashes back to the kiss, to the way Max looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered in that moment. Your heart stutters.

"No," you say, more firmly than you feel. "This doesn't affect my work."

Christian watches you for a long moment, then nods. "Good. Then handle it."

You swallow. "Handle it?"

"Either shut it down or control the narrative," he says. "But I don't want any more surprises."

You nod, even though you don't know what exactly you're affirming with that nod. The problem is, you don't know if you can shut it down. You don't know if you even want to.

When you leave the office, Max is leaning against the wall, waiting. Of course he is.

He leaps up when he sees you. "What did he say?"

"That I need to handle it," you explain.

Max’s expression doesn’t change. "And are you going to?

"I don’t know."

There it is again. You can't read Max Verstappen. He asks, "Do you want me to?"

All your problems come from the same thing-you should say yes, no, whatever it takes to shut down all this that's happening. You should make him go on some press circuit and laugh it off as a misunderstanding, to make sure your name isn't attached to his ever again. You should be walking away from this mess because it's not part of your job description and getting involved with an athlete never seems to end well. Even if it's Max Verstappen.

But you don't.

You never do, it seems.

Instead, you look at him: the way his jaw is clenched, the way his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for you but won't unless you let him, and you keep making the same choice.

"I think," you say carefully, "we should talk."

Max’s lips curve slightly. "Dinner?"

You groan, shoving his shoulder. "Not helping."

His laugh is soft, but there's something else in his eyes now. Something serious. "Then let’s talk."

It's been a long time coming, but right there, you realize you're past the point of no return.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The ride back to the hotel is suffocating. Not the air-no, the air-conditioning in Max's car is great, thankfully, because it sure cost a lot-but because Max is sitting next to you, silent, his fingers drumming against his thigh so close to you if he shifts just a little his hands will be on yours. You push that thought aside. Now's not a good time to get worked up over him. Not now.

You should say something. You should clear the air. But every time you open your mouth, nothing comes out. Instead, you replay everything in your head: the kiss, the way he looked at you after, Christian's warning, and the way Max had asked if you wanted him to handle it. Like it was his responsibility. Like he was willing to do whatever you asked, even if it meant pretending none of this ever happened.

The thought unsettles you more than it should.

"You're thinking too much."

You blink, snapping out of your spiral. Max is watching you instead of the road. Stupid, stupid.

You roll your eyes. "And you’re not thinking at all."

He smirks, eyes darting back forward for a moment before they rest on your face. "That’s not true. I'm thinking about dinner."

"Max, this isn't a joke." You let out a frustrated sigh, turning to face him.

"I know." He's suddenly serious, his voice quieter. "That's why we should talk. Properly. Without Christian breathing down your neck."

You hesitate. You know he's right. You can't keep avoiding this, can't pretend that what happened in the storage room didn't just flip your world upside down. But you also don't know how to have this conversation without risking everything.

Max waits patiently, letting you come to your own conclusion. He always does that. He gives you space, but never too much. Always just enough to make sure you don’t run.

"Fine," you mutter. "But not dinner. We saw how that went."

He raises a brow. "Drinks?"

"No."

"A walk, then."

You sigh, but you don't argue. You suppose a walk is neutral territory. You can talk without the pressure of sitting across from him at a table, without the weight of eye contact that lasts too long.

When you arrive at the hotel, you don't give yourself time to hesitate. You step out, waiting for him, and he follows without question after tossing his keys at the valet. There's a cool breeze, and you focus on that instead of the way your fingers still tingle from where they brushed against Max's earlier.

You walk side by side, the silence stretching, but it isn't uncomfortable. It never is. That’s part of the problem, isn't it? It's always been too easy with him.

"I meant what I said," Max finally says. "I don't want this to be a problem for you."

"It's not that simple, Max."

"It could be."

You huff out a short laugh. "For you, maybe."

He stops walking, and you do too, turning to face him. There's something in his expression that makes your breath catch.

"I like you," he says, and your heart stutters. "And I think you like me too."

You swallow hard. "Max-"

"I know it's complicated. I know Christian is watching us like a hawk. I know you're worried about your job, your reputation." His voice is steady, unwavering. "But I'm not going to pretend this isn't happening just because it's inconvenient."

Your mouth feels dry. It does sound simple when he's saying it.

"Tell me to stop. Tell me this is nothing, and I'll walk away."

You hate him for that. Hate him for putting the choice in your hands, for making you responsible for whatever happens next.

But you don't tell him to stop. You don't say anything at all. You look at him clearly: this man you've watched grow up from a boy. You've seen him destroy things in fits of rage after bad races, you've seen him beam like the sun, and you've seen the way his eyes turn stormy oceans when they look at you. He sees you too.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

bahrain 2025 post-race interview

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

y/n 🌎 gee, max, you're going to get to my ego

y/n 🌎 first "my everything," then "the constant"

y/n 🌎 and what's that about always? i don't believe that.

my mashed potato Are you referring to us or you being the constant? Because I don't believe in that either, but you have me as long as you want

y/n 🌎 are you SERIOUSLY CHECKING YOUR PHONE DURING AN INTERVIEW

y/n 🌎 sorry for all caps i just like it a lot when you get all romantic

my mashed potato i know ❤️

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

a/n: max verstappen and 3-post series are very special to me

[minetteskvareninova]

I am not on Bluesky and you cannot make me join, but if there was anything that could make me do it, it would be seeing this contrarian bullshit while procrastinating from studying on my Early Modern History exams. Because someone needs to give these historically illiterate morons a reality check.

Listen. I don't *like* Middle Ages. I don't vibe with their art, philosophy, politics, anything. But they existed. They brought something of value to the world. Over the course of the Middle Ages, Europe experienced important societal developments. Without these developments, renaissance literally wouldn't happen. Renaissance was in many ways (art, philosophy, science) a continuation of the Middle Ages, in that there really isn't hard cut between Late Medieval period and the renaissance. In other ways, it was exactly like the Middle Ages AND WORSE. The panic over witchcraft reached its zenith in the 16th and the first half of the 17th century. Lots of unscientific bullshit about medicine, alchemy etc. was still going strong well into the 17th century. In fact, 17th century really was the worst, I'd just despise it with all my heart if it wasn't for a few bright spots like baroque architecture, beginnings of the scientific revolution and the like. And are you seriously calling out medieval Europeans for their silly religious beliefs and tendency for violence when renaissance was THE era of bullshit religious conflicts?! Like, my man! Thirty Years wasn't a medieval thing! Even the thing about "going to war with your cousin" - THAT'S LITERALLY WAR OF SPANISH SUCCESSION WHAT ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT

I am not even going to talk about the 16th and 17th century on other continents, because in the Americas it was the era of LITERAL APOCALYPSE. Like how can you talk about any progress when that part of the world saw a brutality that would make the crusaders blush.

It sucks that Early Modern Era still effectively doesn't exist in the popular imagination. Its best parts are subsumed into "renaissance" and "enlightenment". Its worst parts are grouped in with the Middle Ages - not the least because they didn't actually improve that much, and in fact got worse a lot of the time. But you cannot celebrate the art of Da Vinci and just ignore the atmosphere of constant warfare between petty duchies it was born in. That's not how historical eras work. In fact, historical eras aren't really discreet categories with a clear cutoff point, but more like approximate divisions of a continuum. There is very little that separates the art of 1599 from 1600, but by 1650, you do kinda start seeing the difference.

Also! I know I keep repeating this, but Middle Ages didn't suck equally throughout their entirety. "Dark Ages" were the Early Medieval Era, which itself was a several centuries long period by most estimates. High Middle Ages were mostly as good as the Middle Ages got, you get gothic architecture, invention of universities, scholastic philosophy, the works. 14th century is when the things really start to suck again, Black Plague comes, you get wars and peasant rebellions, yada yada. But you also get the earliest "renaissance" art, so if you like that style, you can't disavow the Middle Ages entirely. And the 15th century is also mostly bad, except that one is when the renaissance and humanism period begins in earnest, so.

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | 6

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, overthinking/anxiety, reader being lowkey dramatic lol

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ you and rafe arrived at kelce's. inside, you enjoyed kelce's self-made pizza with the three boys, though afterward rafe kept making cryptic comments about you and kelce. after an awkward back-and-forth with rafe about whether you’re interested in kelce, you both settled in to work on your project, only for rafe to unexpectedly invite you to his place the next evening. as you realized his house will be empty, it dawned on you that he might be setting the stage for a hookup.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 4.2k+

✿ A / N ✿ this one has less action or rather serves more as a little breather bc i wanted to focus more on what's going on in reader's head as well as rafe's hihihi. next part will have them interacting in person again :) i hope you guys enjoy and as always super thankful for any support <33

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

W E E K O N E // T U E S D A Y

With a slightly lighter feeling in your chest and a deep sigh, you let your phone slip into your bag.

Most of your conversations with Cara about guys were filled with delusions but every now and then, she somehow found the right words to quiet your overanalyzing brain.

At least for a moment.

You turned onto the street leading to your house, grateful for the short walk and the fresh air—though the sun beating down on your cheeks made them feel even warmer than they already were.

Your place was just a short walk from Kelce's, practically around the corner, and honestly, you couldn’t have handled another car ride with Rafe today. Not that it mattered—he hadn’t offered one anyway which, for some reason, stung more than it should have. So you’d just said goodbye to the three of them, thanked Kelce for the pizza, and left.

And yet, you couldn’t shake how weird the energy between you and Rafe had been after he’d brought up the idea of going to his place tomorrow.

Ugh, you didn’t even want to think about it anymore—it made your stomach twist—but your brain kept replaying the conversation on a loop.

"My dad and Rose are at some charity event. Wheezie's on a school trip this week, and Sarah can do whatever she wants, I don't care."

The moment those words had left his mouth, you knew he had to have something else in mind besides just working on a school project.

Or maybe you were completely wrong. Maybe his grade actually mattered to him because he needed it to graduate and it was just pure coincidence that he would have the house to himself that night. It’s not like he’d explicitly said he was expecting anything more.

In fact, hadn’t he even mentioned that it’d be more relaxing for you to work in a quieter space than at school? Plus, his weird attempt at trying to calm your nerves with the fidget spinner in his car before that...

Shit, maybe he is just trying to be nice. Maybe this really was just about making sure you were comfortable.

But if it wasn’t… Because somehow, it was hard to believe that Rafe Cameron gave a damn about you… especially after just two days of barely getting to know each other.

So, if you had accepted and the whole thing would've turned out to be a setup for a hookup, then that would've seriously been the end of you. You’d panic, probably overreact, and make things painfully awkward—or worse, you’d go along with it out of some stupid fear of looking like a clueless virgin and blowing your unrealistic shot with him.

Just thinking of the idea of having your first time with Rafe Cameron, embarrassing yourself in the process, and—OH GOD.

This was all so… UGH.

You pulled out your keys and stepped into the house, stomach twisting uncomfortably. Your parents were both busy with work, so you made a beeline for your room and collapsed onto your bed.

But isn’t this what I’ve always wanted? Some kind of connection with him, no matter how.

You frowned.

No. Not like this.

Maybe—okay, definitely—you were spiraling, overthinking everything, and projecting ideas onto him that weren’t even real. Because the truth was, Rafe wasn’t even a fuckboy. You knew that. Yeah, every now and then he was seen leaving a party with a girl, but normally, he'd spend the night with Kelce, Topper, and some other guys in some back room, doing coke or other stupid boy stuff.

Great. Now you felt like shit for having completely overreacted. You’d shoved the poor guy into a box and immediately assumed he was just trying to sleep with you.

Which was so stupid—and totally contradicted what you’d been thinking before: that he didn’t want anything to do with you at all.

What the hell is wrong with me?

You buried your face in a pillow and let out a frustrated groan. Your brain had been running at full speed for the past two days. Cara was right. You were overthinking—just in the opposite direction this time.

And yet… you still didn’t know Rafe’s real intentions and the fear of the unknown was too overwhelming for you to just take that risk.

That’s why earlier you had simply smiled and said, "That’s really nice, the invite, I mean, but I already made plans with Cara tomorrow afternoon to help her clean out her closet and I have no idea how long that’ll take. Besides, it’s your family-free evening—wouldn’t want you wasting that on a school project."

It was a lie. You hadn't have planned anything with Cara but what else were you supposed to say?

On the first glimpse, Rafe had actually taken it better than you'd expected. He had just shrugged and said, "Okay. Guess you're not as much of a nerd as I thought."

You’d given him another nervous smile, and that was it. The topic was closed, and you both went back to working.

But you knew better.

Your whole life, you’d been hyper-aware of the smallest details around you—how someone looked at you, how they reacted, how they spoke, whether they were actually listening, how they behaved after an interaction, the way they smiled—did it reach their eyes or not?

In short, you noticed everything.

And when it came to Rafe, your brain was running on overdrive because that guy? He was a fucking thousand-sided Rubix cube.

Even though he often said unfiltered things without a second thought, his body language always told a much bigger story. That much you had learned in the last two days.

Which was why you had definitely caught the slight hesitation, the barely-there crease of his brows before he had responded. And in that split second, you knew—he hadn’t liked getting turned down.

Rafe Cameron had an ego. A big one. That much was obvious. And someone like him didn’t take it well when things didn’t go his way—whatever his true intentions with that invitation had been.

So it hadn’t surprised you when he sat a little farther from you after coming back from the bathroom, sinking deeper into the couch with his arms crossed. When his answers and input on the project became noticeably shorter, when his eyes drifted to his phone more often, his leg bouncing slightly, or when that effortless charm—the kind you’d assumed was just second nature to him—suddenly felt replaced by a forced, detached sense of cooperation.

Simply put, he probably wasn’t used to rejection. And you had pissed him off.

If it had been Cara or any of your other friends, you would have said something—you hated dealing with that kind of tension. But Rafe wasn’t a close friend, nor was he anywhere near the phase of becoming one.

So, you had endured the rest of the hour with spinning thoughts and felt nothing but relief when he had finally called it a day.

When you walked with Rafe to the porch to say goodbye to Kelce and Topper, you politely declined when Kelce asked if you wanted to stay longer. Said something along the lines of you not being Rafe’s "little nerd bitch" or some shit like that and that the invitation to his place also included you actually hanging out with them.

Whatever that was supposed to mean.

Not that it mattered. You didn’t care about Kelce. It was the way Rafe had simply given you a nod for a goodbye that had left a bitter taste in your mouth.

And maybe it was in that moment—or rather, in the lack of his usual energy—that you'd realized this was how he treated people who meant absolutely nothing to him.

This, in turn, had sent you spiraling into the worst overthinking session of your life because—WHAT THE HELL DID RAFE CAMERON EVEN WANT?

A good grade? Someone to carry him through art class? A new friends-with-benefits-girlie he would drop after two weeks? A one-time hookup? A harmless friendship? Just the thrill of throwing you off your game?

A relationship was out of the question—he had never shown any interest in that during all his years at Kildare Academy. Every girl who had ever gotten involved with him knew that.

So, be for fucking real, what the hell did he want from you?

You wanted to text him right then and there. Hey, so, um, I’ve had a crush on you since fifth grade haha, and now that we’ve actually spent some time together, I keep getting these weird-ass signals from you hahahahha, soooo… what the actual fuck is your problem?

You squinted your eyes in embarrassment and ran your hands over your face in frustration.

Cara would do it, you thought. She’d write the damn text—or hell, even send a voice memo or call him outright. She hated mixed signals with a passion, and something like this, no matter how small, was the kind of thing she wouldn’t just let slide.

Shit. You know what? Why not? Huh? Why shouldn’t I do the same?

Your fingers were already pulling up your phone, hovering over Rafe’s chat. But then you hesitated. Aside from the fact that this was a total impulse move, what the hell were you even supposed to say?

Realistically.

Because no matter how you'd phrase it, bringing up weird vibes after just two days would make you sound like some kind of psycho.

Who the hell does that?

Fuck, but why was this messing with your head so much? Why did it bother you so damn much that he’d acted even slightly different? Sure, yeah, you had a crush on him but why were his mood swings affecting you like crazy?

Okay. Relax. Seriously.

Maybe you should text him something else first—just to test the waters. See if he really was being distant, or if you were just spiraling over nothing.

Yeah. Yeah! That sounded like a plan (not a good one but if you didn't do anything you'd go crazy in the next few hours).

And the moment you hit send, all the courage and impulsiveness drained from your body in an instant.

What was Rafe going to think…? Not even an hour had passed since you'd said goodbye, and here you were texting him?

Plus, the text itself sounded so... FUCKING FAKE OH MY HOLY SHIT, UGH THIS WASN'T YOU.

FUCKING HELL, this was so embarrassing. He definitely thinks I’m absolutely desperate for him now. Okay, maybe I can still delete the message before he—

Oh.

Your heart sank straight through the floor, and you suddenly wanted to crawl under your blanket and never see the light of day again.

So he really was annoyed in some way.

Okay, okay, no big deal, everything’s fine, it's all good hahahahah.

Except your pulse was racing, and your thoughts were spiraling. That one SpongeBob meme with the burning brain and all the little panicked SpongeBobs running around? That was exactly what was happening in your head right now.

Frantically, you started typing your next message.

The worst part about this whole situation wasn’t this absolutely terrible fake-ass message that made you look even more desperate and needy after his half-assed reply. It wasn’t even the fact that he had read it immediately. Nope—what really did it was the fact that, despite having read it right away, he didn’t respond for the next thirty minutes. And not even in the thirty afterward.

And that was the final blow for today. Completely embarrassed and feeling sick to your stomach, you shut off your phone, buried yourself under your blanket, put on your headphones, and let some random Netflix garbage play in the background. You didn't even bother texting Cara because of how horrible you felt.

Because the truly humiliating part? A tiny part in you, probably your stupid 11-year-old-self, had actually believed, for even a second, that there was some kind of spark between you and Rafe—that maybe, just maybe, he had seen something in the quiet girl who sat on the sidelines in class and at parties.

And even worse? The fact you were reacting this intensely to an absolutely non-intense situation. After. Two. Fucking. Days.

But deep down, it wasn’t just about this one moment. It was the disappointment of having been into Rafe for years, finally getting to interact with him for real, and then not getting to live out the before-bedtime scenario that had played out in your head so many times before.

Or maybe it was simply that his reaction had pretty much confirmed what you were trying not to admit: If he had wanted anything from you at all, it was probably something shallow. And your refusal to come over tomorrow had bruised his ego.

Whatever. Screw this. Screw Rafe, his stupid comments, his smug little grin—screw all of it.

You turned up the volume of the movie, trying in vain to drown out your spiraling thoughts. But your mind was a curse and you couldn’t stop wondering what Rafe actually thought of you.

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"And now she suddenly wants to meet up again," Rafe said, squinting irritated at your last message. "After bailing on tomorrow. No clue what kind of bullshit this is."

Topper tilted his head. "Thought she just didn’t have time?"

"Yeah, sure. Because she has to help her friend clean out her closet." Rafe scoffed, exhaling annoyed as he let his phone drop onto the porch couch. "I know bullshit excuses when I hear them. Sarah pulls the same crap all the time when she doesn’t feel like helping Rose out."

Kelce nearly choked on a hit from his hookah. "I don’t know, man, sounds to me like big bad Rafe Cameron just can’t handle getting curved for once."

Rafe’s brows furrowed. "Keep your fucking mouth shut. The only girls you pull are the ones too drunk to recognize your ugly ass." He crossed his arms, shaking his head. "This is some bullshit. I just wanted to get this fucking project done and now it's getting dragged out even more."

"Oh, of course," Kelce smirked, winking. "It's just about the project. It’s fine, bro, you can admit she’s a cute chick."

Topper nodded. "Yeah, she seems nice. Really quiet but not in a bad way, you know?"

"And?" Rafe pulled a face. "She called Kelce ‘nice’ too but we both know he’s a shitface."

This time, Kelce actually choked on the hookah smoke. "She did?"

"I’m just saying, she’s not loud and all over you like the girls that you usually hang out with", Topper replied, scratching his chin. "I also don't remember her ever being involved in any weird girl drama."

Rafe let out a dry laugh. "Nah, the way she acts sometimes? Makes me think I'm talking to two different people. One moment she's all shy and anxious and the next she's got this big ass attitude like she's on some Two-Face type shit."

"Oh, I bet she's a freak under all that shy girl exterior", Kelce said, grinning, but the other two ignored him.

"So, you're weirded out because she got a ... personality?" Topper asked and shook his head as if he couldn’t quite keep up. "Not everyone's as upfront with their self as Kelce, you know."

Rafe crossed his arms behind his head, already annoyed by this whole conversation. He didn’t even know why he was talking to these two idiots about you in the first place.

"I'm just pissed off at whatever bullshit she has suddenly going on", he said.

Topper raised an eyebrow. "Okay but why didn't you call her out immediately?"

"Yeah", Kelce chimed in. "Always talking big and now you puss out."

Rafe narrowed his eyes like he was debating whether to deck Kelce or let his bullshit slide. "Because I need this stupid project to work out." Rafe shook his head, his expression twisting slightly, feeling weirded out by this whole conversation. "And 'cause she’s always so fucking tense and nervous like I'm holding her at gunpoint. Shit's annoying as fuck."

He scoffed but he couldn't shake the feeling that you were indeed throwing him off in some weird inexplicable way. And sometimes your cautious behavior reminded him of Wheezie which somehow made your nervousness feel familiar.

"Sounds like she’s pissed she got stuck with you as a partner, bro", Kelce said, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. "Probably figured out you’re just hanging on her ass to pass the class."

For some reason, that pissed Rafe off more than it should have but before he could snap back, Topper cut in. "I think you’re just overwhelming her."

Both Rafe and Kelce turned to him with matching confused stares.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Rafe pulled a face.

Topper shrugged. "Bringing her straight here, you know… I mean Kelce alone is already a lot and maybe this was just moving too fast for her, I don't know. She doesn't seem the type to hang out with guys a lot."

"Moving too fast—Topper, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"I’m just saying—"

"She thinks you're trying to get into her pants", Kelce explained.

This time, it was Topper who pulled a face. "No! That’s not—"

"Okay," Rafe cut him off, rubbing his nose in irritation. "Both of you shut the fuck up. Neither of you knows shit."

Kelce smirked. "Aww, sounds like she's messing with your head."

That was enough. Rafe would’ve loved nothing more than to slam his fist into Kelce’s face right then and there but instead he stood up, grabbing his keys. "Okay, heard enough bullshit from you today."

Kelce just waved after him. "See you tomorrow, bro."

And yet, as much as that conversation with the two biggest idiots on Earth had irritated Rafe, it had also made him think. Which was a damn weird feeling because normally, he didn’t waste a second thought on stuff like this—or better yet, on any girl.

Especially not one who'd never really caught his attention in all the years at Kildare Academy. Sure, somewhere in the back of his mind, his subconscious had probably registered your presence. He knew you existed—your last name was recognizable, after all.

But as a person? You were more of a fleeting thought, like Oh shit, she actually talks? whenever you spoke up in class every few weeks, or Huh, guess she has a personality, when you were tipsy on some random couch, laughing loudly with your friend at a party.

But that was about it. Rafe wasn’t the kind of guy to waste brainpower on what he saw as background characters who occasionally made noise. And besides, he wasn’t exactly drawn to what appeared like boredom.

So, at first, he was actually kind of annoyed when Mr. Smith paired him up with the quiet girl. Because, yeah—as his graduation forecast had made clear, Art might be his ticket to scraping by in high school, but how the hell was he supposed to pull that off if his partner was basically a mute rock?

On top of that, you seemed like a total nerd, and he figured if you realized he wasn’t going to put in any effort, you’d rat him out. That would be the end of his diploma, meaning his dad would be horribly disappointed and that was something Rafe was trying his hardest to avoid. No way in hell would he allow Sarah to be the family's favorite.

So, he was determined to get this project over with as fast and as well done as possible. First day, straight to work, setting the base for this shitty project, sticking to your side to make you believe he was trying to put in effort. That had to be the way to impress someone like you, right?

Yeah, he’d expected your first lunch together to end in painfully awkward silence—the kind that would have him wanting to put a bullet in his head from sheer boredom.

He'd been wrong.

Sure, at first, he’d had to push things along but with a shy girl like you that was to be expected. What he hadn’t predicted was how blunt you were without you even realizing it. And the absolute crazy part? If Kelce, Topper, that bitch Ruthie, or literally anyone else said the things you did, it would made his blood boil.

But somehow, with you, it didn’t feel like ... you were mocking or judging him or some shit like that. Your honesty surprised him so much that most of the time he was too amused to seriously confront you about it.

In fact, Rafe found it oddly refreshing.

On top of that, he was used to people sucking up to him, trying to get on his good side because of his dad, or going out of their way to impress him. And why wouldn’t they? He was a fucking Cameron. But you? No clue what was wrong with you but you acted like you were trying to do the exact opposite.

You didn’t try to grab his attention. Most of the time you didn’t just sit there when he ran his mouth. You didn’t kiss his ass with over-the-top compliments or ask about the family business with that fake, polite bullshit—no, you had actually asked him how he was doing today.

Right after he'd asked you to wait in the car when that fucking idiot Scott had shown up, trying to buy a bag of coke. Rafe had nearly slammed him against the damn car—because how fucking stupid could you be, doing that on school grounds? Afterward, he’d been pissed. But instead of teasing him about it or lecturing him about his attitude like his dad would have, you’d just… asked if he was okay.

And the worst part? You actually seemed like you'd meant it.

For a split second, Rafe had even considered venting on how much everything pissed him off. Not just the jerk Scott, no fucking everything that had been on his mind in the past few weeks. Shit, he was glad he'd held back because what made him even consider it?

The fact, you'd somehow given him the feeling of not being judged??? The fuck. Shit, he'd probably sniffed a line too much last weekend because this was fucking crazy.

That would also explain why he had been so tense today. Like when it had pissed him off when Kelce had been drooling over you today. Or when Topper had started sucking up to you—probably just hoping to get another shot with your best friend through you but still, somehow Rafe had to try even harder to hold back his temper than usual.

Shit, up until now, he hadn’t given a single fuck about you. But this? Whatever the hell had flipped in his brain after Kelce had opened his mouth when he first spotted you two... it was messing with him.

And why he had asked you so insistently about Kelce earlier? Rafe had no fucking idea. All he knew was that it bugged him when you'd changed the subject instead of giving him a straight answer.

Oh, and then you had the nerve to turn down his invitation to continue this stupid project tomorrow at his place—with some cheap-ass excuse? Holy shit, that had really pissed him off.

Rafe couldn’t afford to screw up this project though, or he would’ve called you out on it right then and there. Because why the fuck would you say no—unless you actually couldn’t stand him?

Or was that idiot Topper right? Was Rafe being too overwhelming or some shit like that? Of course, he had noticed that you seemed to spend a lot of time in your own head—Wheezie was like that and it wasn't always for the better. So, was there a possibility that you were overthinking his invitation like you had with the whole coming-over-to-Kelce situation?

The thought made him scowl.

Silently, Rafe pulled his Mercedes into the Tannyhill garage and shut off the engine, his fingers drumming relentlessly on the steering wheel.

What Kelce had said came back into his mind and his mood went down through the floor. Rafe knew that idiot didn't know shit and he'd just been running his mouth as usual and yet it messed with Rafe's head.

But did you actually think he was trying to get in your pants?

Sure, he wasn’t gonna lie—you were pretty to look at. But Rafe wasn’t some horny dog trying to shove his dick up the ass of every random girl he met. And he'd thought he'd made that very clear. In fact, just yesterday at lunch, you'd also made it very clear you did NOT think of him like that.

So what the fuck was your problem?

Pissed off, Rafe picked up his phone from the middle console, eyeing your last text message. You wanted to meet up again on Thursday. The fuck? Was this some kind of fucked up power move? Turning him down, so he could be the one to dance to your bidding?

Nah. Fuck that.

He started typing.

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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

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T A G L I S T F O R M If you're only interested in this series, it's enough to drop a comment, no need to fill out the form

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee @sttaejoon-blog @vogueprincess @princesspeaxhh @wtfisastiles @wefelldowntherabbithole13 @rafes4 @kathryn-maraudersversion @wuluhwuhmaster @torturedtypewritersdept @sfotiegiuls @vvmaybank @ltristessedureratoujours @mia-iltc @gabrielaperez11 @stoned-writer @lunaleah @akobx @cokewithcameron

[emmylksblog]

DON'T IGNORE ME // PEDRI GONZÁLEZ

summary: you prank pedri giving him the silent treatment but you can't resist his cuteness and end up giving in into his charms.

based on this request

genre: fluff

warnings: none

a/n: i just noticed pedri loves to pout for no reason

Pedri came home absolutely drained. Training had been tough today, his touches felt off, he wasn’t focused, and nothing seemed to click. All he’d been craving the whole afternoon was you. Your hugs, your kisses, the way you always managed to melt the frustration out of his system with just a few words and a cuddle.

So when he unlocked the door and walked into the apartment, expecting that little welcome kiss you always gave each other when reunited… and you didn’t come rushing over to greet him?

He froze.

Something felt...off.

“Maybe she’s in the middle of something,” he muttered to himself, shrugging off his jacket and kicking off his sneakers. But that voice in his head, the one that overthinks everything when it comes to you, was already listing all the ways he might’ve screwed up today.

Still, he decided not to overreact. He spotted you curled up on the sofa, eyes glued to your phone, acting like he hadn’t even entered the room. That wasn’t like you. He walked straight toward you and leaned down to kiss you anyway.

“Didn’t notice me come in, baby?” he mumbled playfully.

You didn’t even flinch.

Okay, now he noticed. Something was definitely wrong.

What Pedri didn’t know was that you were putting your acting skills to the test, hard. You were trying not to smile, not to crack, not to laugh out loud. Because this was revenge. Sweet, silent revenge. Yesterday he forgot to stop by the store for your favorite snacks, even though you’d reminded him twice. Once in person. Once by text. And yes, you were on your period, and yes, that made it ten times worse. You were dead set on making him suffer just a little for that betrayal.

Meanwhile, Pedri was spiraling.

He crouched down in front of you, his knees already aching from practice, and gently took your hand.

“Amor… Did something happen at work today? You’ve been standing a lot lately, huh?” His eyes softened. “Is it your back again?”

He paused.

He suspected. He knew there was a decent chance you had your period. The way you snapped at him last night for forgetting the snacks, that wasn’t like you. But he wasn’t about to say it. Not because he thought it was rude, no. It was worse if he guessed wrong. If you weren’t on your period and he assumed it, you’d probably be ten times angrier. So he said nothing. Just guessed. Silently.

He started rubbing your feet gently, thumbs pressing just right like he always did. Because if you weren’t okay, he couldn’t be okay either. You were his peace. And if peace was disturbed, he’d fix it. No matter how tired, no matter how wrecked from training, your comfort came first.

But you still weren’t reacting. No kisses. No words. Not even a glance.

That’s when the panic really started to set in.

He moved beside you on the sofa, pulled your legs onto his lap, and kept massaging. “Did I say something wrong?” he whispered. “Did I forget something else? Was it... was it this morning? Did I—?”

You weren’t answering.

Poor boy looked like he was about to start apologizing for things he did back in 2020.

Eventually, Pedri let out a heavy sigh. He gently laid your legs back down and reached for the blanket to tuck you in, like he always did when he thought you needed comfort. Then he disappeared into the hallway.

You thought he’d given up and gone to bed.

But a few minutes later, he came back... with a full pile of your favorite snacks: Kinder Bueno, gummies, everything you liked. He laid them on your lap without a word and just stared at you, hopeful and tired and so, so sweet.

You were this close to dropping the act.

But curiosity got the better of you, what else would your sweet Pedri try?

When you didn’t even react to the snacks, Pedri’s whole body seemed to deflate. His eyes scanned your face, begging for something, anything.

You finally lifted your gaze.

And the look on his face broke your heart.

That was the moment you regretted the joke.

He looked genuinely worried. Like he thought he’d broken something between you.

You sat up immediately, your voice soft and guilty. “Pedri… bebé, are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

But Pedri didn’t let you finish.

He launched a full-blown kiss attack, cheeks, forehead, nose, chin, neck, wherever he could reach.

“You’re evil,” he mumbled between kisses. “Cruel. Wicked. You’re not allowed to do this to me.”

“I’m sorry, baby!” you giggled, finally giving in and wrapping your arms around him. “I just wanted to get you back for the snack betrayal.”

“So you were mad at me,” he pouted, pressing one last kiss to your temple.

“Only a little,” you smiled. “But don’t you ever test me again when I’m on my period.”

He laughed. “Lesson learned.”

Just when you both settled into the sofa again, sharing the warmth and comfort of forgiveness, Pedri glanced at the pile of snacks in your lap and leaned his head on your shoulder.

“So... do you think I’m forgiven enough to get one of those Kinder Buenos?” he asked, in the softest, cheekiest tone.

You rolled your eyes with a smirk. “Barely. But fine. One.”

You unwrapped it and handed it to him a bit dramatically, and as soon as he took it, he leaned in and gave you a soft, grateful kiss on the lips.

“Eres la mejor,” he whispered against your mouth. (you are the best)

And just like that, you forgot why you were ever mad in the first place.

[lost-romantique]

Blitzø's Realization & Feelings

I like how Blitz is initially confused the moment Stolas arrives on scene and breaks into song...

He understands that Stolas just saved him from getting his head chopped off, but he still doesn't understand what he's doing at the trial.

After all, in Blitzø’s mind Stolas is over him, and moved on the moment he saw Stolas having the time of his life dancing with BTB.

In Blitzø’s memory reel Stolas has his top eyes open, and I think to Blitzø he reads it as Stolas seeing and relishing in that kiss, in that moment. Blitzø doesn't even consider the fact that it was a drunken kiss.

But the moment Stolas takes all the blame for himself, things take a turn...

It clicks for Blitzø, and he's just in pure and utter shock as he sees just how much Stolas genuinely and truly loves him.

It's at this moment where he says the words, "I don't want to live a life without you by my side."

Blitzø takes this time to finally let his emotions pour out like a fucking waterfall.

Whereas compared to Ghostfuckers he just subtly acknowledges it.

His expression drops from realization to pure panic at Stolas' actions. Blitzø doesn't want to die, but at the same time, he definitely doesn't want someone he cares about to take the fall for him.

"What are you doing!? I don't deserve this!"

"I realized too late!" Blitzø acknowledges that he realized both Stolas’ feelings and his own feelings too late in the game.

Blitzø in Apology Tour didn't understand his own feelings, let alone Stolas’ feelings. He tries to, but he can't.

"Don't give your life to clean my slate."

What I love about this line is that it reads as: Don't sacrifice yourself to absolve me of my crimes. Blitzø makes it clear he doesn't want this.

"You’re my heart."

Blitzø breaks down and says these words because to Blitzø this is what Stolas is, the key to his heart that he's kept locked up for years, and someone he wants to give his whole heart too.

Because Blitzø closed off his heart after the fire. His love is something that he believed could hurt someone, but with Stolas, he's worth that risk.

The moment Stolas is wrapped in chains, Blitzø moves on instinct, almost as if he's trying to get out of his own chains so he can run to Stolas.

Felt like it would be a disservice not to show the clip that destroyed me. 😀

Blitzø, the moment he's freed of his chains Blitzø says the words, "No- no!" in disbelief, shock, and desperation.

Blitzø is so desperate to stop Stolas from what he's doing, begging him to do anything to stop this from happening. And if that meant getting himself killed, he'd do it.

Because he doesn't want a repeat of this happening. It's one thing for people to leave Blitzø, he’s used to that, but it's another to have them die, especially in front of him.

He breaks down when he fears his worse fears have come true: that Stolas is dead and he can't do anything to stop it.

It's why Blitzø is so shocked and surprised the moment he sees Stolas alive, because his worse fears didn't happen.

The moment Blitzø gets the reassurance that he's is loved by Stolas he falls into that caretaking role almost instantly, since he knows Stolas is hurting right now.

He's taking steps being extra gentle, extra reassuring, extra soft, even going as far as to fluff the pillow on his couch.

It vaguely reminds me of how Blitzø is able to sorta gage what people's needs are. In this moment, Blitzø was about to shoot Creepzo, but instead he opts to beat Creepzo with the end of his gun once he realizes Fizz is on the verge of a panic attack.

What I love about this shot is that this is the most at peace Blitzø has ever looked in the entire show.

He's just so grateful that he's alive and that Stolas is alive.

~~~~~~

Anyway, wanted to include this bit because I love how Sam Haft pointed out that Blitzø leaves Mastermind more self-actualized.

Whereas for Stolas, he leaves Mastermind more humbled as he gets a taste of how truly privileged he is.

[snoringkitty1]

Here for you

always

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The nights like usual were peaceful and pleasant, faint lights peered through the curtain of the bedroom, but it wasn't enough to stir you, or the man you were slumbering next to.

Harumasa Asaba of Section 6, his face slightly squished against his pillow as his brows furrowed in his sleep. Clearly, for him, the night wasn't quite as peaceful as it usually was.

His heart beat against its cage as if it were seeking an escape from the hellscape in his head. You only woke up because he stole most of the blanket when he rolled over, and you had gotten cold.

You opened your eyes, in your half asleep state you tried to snuggle closer to him but he subconsciously pushed you away. You sat up and scowled before seeing his expression, pain and desperation painted all over his face.

"Haru-" you whispered hurriedly, patting his chest and moving the blanket off of him in case he started running a fever. You looked at the medicine on his nightstand and sighed before returning your focus to him.

He flinched at the slightest touch, but suddenly his eyes shot open and he gasped, his golden eyes stared at the ceiling for a moment before they flickered to you. The was silence between you two before he sat up and pulled you into a sudden, but very secure and tight hug.

Your eyes widened before you pulled him close and buried your face in the crook of his neck. "Nightmares..?" you inquired, frowning when he nodded and sniffled. "I-it was..so vivid-- i thought.." he murmured and squeezed you tighter.

"I thought i had..hurt you- killed you, even.." he let out a shaky sigh before leaning back and holding your face. "All the color in your face was gone.." seeing Harumasa so distraught had become a thing as of late. His nightmares had become more frequent ever since the two of you moved in together.

He pestered you until you gave in, he was always anxious about a hollow popping up out of nowhere where you lived and him not being able to do anything about it. It was reasonable, so you gave in, but now his nightmares only seemed to get worse for no reason.

You held his hands against your face and smiled at him, "Haru, i'm safe and sound," you began and kissed his palms "I'm in your arms, your bed, your house. And you, i know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me, ever.."

His brows knit and he shook his head, his hands reaching to cover the puncture scars on his neck. "But it wasn't me..i was- a monster.." at the mention of becoming a monster, his panic only seemed to worsen terribly.

You wrapped your arms around him again and squeezed to help bring him back down to earth, he was doing all he could not to cry. "How about this.." you leaned back and buttoned up his shirt a little before pecking the corners of his eyes.

"Let's take a quick visit to the kitchen, i'll make you some tea, and we can watch TV on the couch until we fall asleep?" you offered and kissed his cheeks. His golden eyes softened before he sighed and nodded, "Don't put so much sugar in it this time.." he chuckled softly and poked your cheek.

You rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out at him before getting up and pulling him out of bed. He groaned dramatically and slumped forward onto you, laughing as you grumbled and tried your best not to shove him off and back onto bed.

"Carry me..~" He mused as a joke, chuckling as you rolled your eyes and he stepped back. "You have two feet and a heartbeat, get to walking." he laughed and scratched the back of his head as he walked passed you.

You smiled to yourself and followed him, eventually slipping your hand into his and pulling it up to kiss his knuckles. Despite his line of work, his hands and fingers were smooth and soft, if not for his archer's gloves, he'd likely have a few more callouses.

When you both reached the kitchen, you let go of his hand and walked over to the tea kettle and prepared to brew him something that would help him fall asleep again. He didn't linger far from you though, he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms as he watched your fill it with tea leaves and water.

He didn't have his iconic yellow headband on, and his hair was a mess, it was oddly endearing and attractive to see him in a sleepy, casual state. Oh, how many people would kill to be in your position right now.

He was busy undoing the buttons that you did up minutes prior, looking over to you while you turned the stove on. He smirked and slipped behind you, his arms making their way around your waist as he pulled you away from the counterside.

"Haru, what are you up to now?" You asked before suddenly he turned you around and leaned forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder, his arms tightening around your waist. "Just stay right here.." he hummed softly, making you chuckle "yes sir.."

He smiled, beginning to slowly sway with you in the kitchen. It was quiet, there was no music, yet he didn't seem bothered and continued to sway with you. "Thank you.." he whispered just under his breath. You didn't receive sincere thank you's from him often, so hearing it made you smile, "I'm happy to help.."

You wrapped your arms around him and rubbed his back, his white button up shirt was all wrinkled from how he was tossing and turning thanks to his nightmares. "You should go round up all the pillows and blankets in the living room and make a nice little spot for us to cuddle." you hummed and kissed the side of his head.

"Heh, yes ma'am." he chuckled and leaned back to give you a brief kiss before he turned away completely. You watched him go for a moment, covering your mouth and giggling. He was immature and childish at times, but your found his dorkus behavior endearing at the right moments.

You focused on getting mugs out for the tea, and other various things to put in your tea. "Tea is almost done Haru." you called, looking over and seeing him holding all the blankets he could find in one big ball. He smiled at you and nodded before tossing the blankets on the couch, making a cozy nest out of them, and jogging over to you.

"You didn't put a bunch of sugar in it to mess with me again, right?" he inquired and looked at the kettle with a wary look before he kissed the side of your head and turned away to pour the tea. "Nope, the goal is to get you back to sleep, not having you bouncing off the wall." you crossed your arms.

He chuckled and set the kettle back on the stove, fixing your tea just how you liked it, apparently from memory it seems before he handed it off to you. "C'mon, we got movies to watch~" he cooed, as if he wasn't going to doze off in the first ten minutes.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand, the two of you making your way to the couch, getting snuggled up and comfortable. The TV was already playing something quietly, so you two just got to relax and drink your tea.

Asaba rarely was so relaxed, something was always occupying his mind, even when he was supposed to be relaxing at home on his 'sick' leave. Typically it was his illness that kept his mind busy, even in his sleep.

Even now, he was likely think about that nightmare considering he was holding you about as tight as he holds his bow in the middle of a fight. "Asaba." you began, he looked over and tilted his head, "My first name? Must be serious~" he grinned and waited for you to continue.

You sighed and leaned close to peck his lips to shut him up for a minute, "If you had turned into an ethereal, i would kill you." you stated and his eyes widened. "I wouldn't let you die knowing you had been the death of me, literally." you chuckled and kissed his lips again.

"..How do you manage to read my thought all the time?" he whined and lowered his head, "Thank you..i'd much prefer i die over you." he hummed and squished your cheeks, his somber attitude shifting. "Now~ keep your pretty mouth closed, and lets watch the movie." he grinned.

You giggled and nodded, "Yes sir." you stuck your tongue out at him and he let go of your face and leaned back and sipped his tea.

Silence filled the space, and eventually you finished your tea and he finished his, the two of you now content and sleepy all over again. The movie became white noise, helping the two of stay asleep.

Thanks for reading