#also sorry for the negativity lately I’m trying to get better

[candyheartedchy]

I keep trying to get back into drawing my self ships but I still feel empty and conflicted about shipping with certain characters now.

[princeofyorkshire]

part of me thinks i’m beyond fucked up the other part thinks i need to go on despite it all and everyday i have to fight and choose who to listen to. the first one is winning lately and it’s so fucking bad for me dude

[nereidprinc3ss]

hii i love love how u write spencer omds🥸

uhh i was wondering if you could write sth based off the song “we’ll never have sex” by leith ross? pls dont feel pressured to write this btw😭😭😭 hope ur having a good day lovely💗💗

hello my love i have no self control so this is extremely long and plotty but i love this song and i hope that this is any good at all crying emoji (i'm on a laptop LOL) enjoy!!

warnings/tags: angst/fluff, fem!reader, negative self-talk from reader, mentions of past sexual coercion/feeling used, mentions of past excessive drinking to combat social anxiety, ive been watching a lot of new girl lately and i think it shows, SO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, happy ending

You weren’t expecting to end up on Spencer Reid’s worn-leather couch at two in the morning, clutching a chipped mug of coffee in your hands as you listen to the sounds of the city from the street below. But there you are, sitting with your legs folded under you, in your favorite dress and first date-night makeup (now bleeding and smudged from all the crying.) And realizing that despite considering him one of your closest friends, you haven’t been to his apartment in a long time. There are, of course, good reasons for that—but you try to push those from your mind. 

“I’m really sorry about this,” you sigh, staring at your warped reflection in the glassy black surface of your coffee. Spencer is coming out of the small kitchen, now bearing his own cup. 

“Please, stop apologizing.” 

You glance up, tentatively studying him from behind the safety of your mug. While he may not have been asleep when you knocked on his door ten minutes ago, lachrymose and barely verbal, he must have been getting ready for bed. He’s clad in patterned pajama pants, mismatched socks, and an FBI crewneck that is just big enough to reveal the collar of the tee-shirt underneath. He’s already taken out his contacts, and you were startled by the reminder that he also has glasses. 

“So...” he begins, bringing you back to the present moment, “we don't have to talk about anything, if you don’t want to, but...” 

You sigh, watching coffee bubbles swirl like stars in a galaxy. 

“It’s fine. Honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed. I didn’t really think, I just... ended up here.” 

“Yeah... where did you come from?” he laughs quietly. “Not that I’m complaining. But I recall you not living super close by.” 

“No, no. I was actually on a date. Kind of.” 

“Ah.” There’s a beat of silence, and ostensibly Spencer is waiting for you to say more, but instead you take a sip from your mug. “At two in the morning?” You nod dully, staring at the labyrinthine pattern of the Persian rug.  

“I’m taking it that it wasn’t a very good date...?” 

A whoosh of air escapes from your puffed cheeks. 

“No it was not. Not by the end, anyway. It actually started really well, which made it even more disappointing when he...” you laugh, but there’s not much humor in it. “Well, when he kicked me out of his car on a street corner because I didn’t want to sleep with him.” 

You don’t look to see Spencer’s reaction—only take another long, baleful sip of coffee and ignore the heavy silence.  

“I’m really sorry. You... you deserve so much better than that.” 

An attempt at a jaded scoff from you falls flat. 

“Yeah, well. Tell that to the last three white house interns I’ve gone on dates with. It’s the same thing every time.” 

“Have you considered going on fewer dates with white house interns...?” The nervous humor is a thin veil over genuine critique. You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“It’s not just them. Every single guy I’ve liked since I was 15 has been like this. Even my past relationships, I felt like I was almost... tricked into, you know? I mean, these guys, they act all understanding and willing to take it slow or whatever, until you’re in a relationship, and suddenly they’re guilt tripping you so hard and making you feel so obligated to...” you catch yourself just in time, glancing up at Spencer. You’re not sure what to make of his expression. The drawn brow and slightly squinted eyes trained so intently on you could be sympathy, or anger, or pity, or apathy—you look away, not sure you even want to know what he’s thinking. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all about that. Basically romance is exhausting and since I’ll clearly be single forever I’m considering running away to join a nunnery.” 

When he doesn’t respond for too long, you look back up quizically. 

“I’m not sure you know what romance actually is,” he says as soon as your gaze meets his, like the eye-contact activated some kind of hair-trigger in his vocal box. 

You blink, lowering the coffee cup to your lap. 

Says Spencer Reid? 

“...sorry?” 

He flushes, stammering to clarify himself. 

“I just meant—I—I know I’m not exactly fighting women off with a stick—” he interrupts himself with a self-conscious (adorable) laugh— “but... but I have been in love, at least once.”  

“Maeve,” you say, gently—trying to shove down bitter guilt as you remember how jealous you’d been when Spencer had first told you about her. “I remember.” 

He swallows and nods. 

“We never even met—we just talked. All the time. I had no idea what she looked like. But it didn’t matter at all. Because I knew her, and I loved her. Maybe things would have gone further if I hadn’t been calling her from public phone booths, but that wasn’t the most important thing to either of us. We were still in love.” You try to shut out the sharp ache in your chest. Being jealous of the way he speaks about a dead woman is so wrong.  

“What I’m trying to say is that romance isn’t solely about sex, or even physical appearance. It sounds to me like you’ve been with a lot of men who don’t understand that. And it would be such a shame for you to write romance off in general before you even get to experience it. You are... an extraordinary woman. You’re funny, and intelligent, and kind, and so capable of being loved. One day, someone is going to see beyond your pulchritude and prove that to you. I hope you let them try.” 

More tears blur the pattern on the rug, pooling in the rims of your eyes before spilling down your cheeks in fast, fat drops. Shakily you set the cup down, resting your elbows on your knees and hiding your face in your hands. You sniff once. Twice. Shake your head quickly, attempting to wipe the tears away without further smearing your makeup everywhere. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Spencer breathes, leaning forward but obviously unsure how to comfort you. “Please don’t cry, I wasn’t--I was trying to do the opposite of this.” 

“No, I’m sorry! You didn’t have to—you didn’t—I’m sorry. That was way too nice.” 

But you're not crying because he was nice.  

Someone will love you, but not me. That’s all you can hear. 

His voice is a mere whisper when he next speaks. 

“I meant every word.” 

You take a shuddering breath, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve behind the peaceful black of your eyelids. You can’t be looking at his face when you say what you’re about to say. 

“I had a crush on you for the longest time, you know.” 

Ringing silence. But it doesn’t last as long as you’d imagined. It’s not as world ending. 

“Had?” 

The little smile in his voice is like a fist around your heart. 

“Yeah. You know what changed?” 

“What’s that?” 

Absolutely nothing. 

“Every time I got super drunk and started hitting on you, you’d just drive me home. And I did it a lot. Like, for months. But you were such a gentleman. It drove me fucking crazy. So eventually I figured you just didn’t like me and I gave up.” 

Another stretch of silence. A breeze comes in from the open window, fluttering the curtains and cooling the tears on your face. His response is sad when it finally comes. 

“You thought I didn’t like you because I didn’t try to take advantage of you when you were drunk?” 

“Pretty much.” You smile ruefully, fingertips still pressed over your eyes. “God, listen to me. No wonder I get treated like garbage.” 

“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that. Did you hear anything I just said?” 

You sniff, looking to the ceiling. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was really sweet.” 

More silence. 

“But you don’t believe it.” 

A bitter laugh poisons the air around you. 

“I don’t know.  I’m kind of tired of waiting for someone to prove it to me. Just for once, I want someone to be interested in me beyond having sex in the back of their fucking... Range Rover, or whatever. Like, maybe all that stuff you said is true, but there’s no evidence to support it, and I know logically you’re probably right but I can’t help wondering if... if I’m the outlier. Maybe there just isn’t someone for me like that. Maybe I’m just gonna be the sex in the back of the Range Rover girl forever.” 

A noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob forces itself from your throat and you bury your face in your hands again, shaking your head. 

“Wow, I am so sorry,” you say a little too loudly, “I did not mean to be this honest tonight. Did you spike my coffee?” 

“You are not the outlier,” Spencer whispers.  

You sniff, lifting your head haltingly to look at him. 

“What?” 

His voice shakes slightly as he speaks. 

“You said you can’t help wondering if you’re the outlier, and maybe there just isn’t someone for you like that. That’s not true.” 

“Spencer, those are just words. You can’t possibly know that. Statistical probabilities don’t count.” 

“That’s... that’s not how I know.” 

Your heart drops as you study his face.  

No. 

Surely he’s not saying what you think he’s saying. 

Surely he wouldn’t do this to you after you’ve just told him everything you told him. You have been harboring feelings for him for years. Since you met. He can’t just spring this on you one night because you’re a little bummed out. If he felt the same, you would have found out a long time ago; he had ample opportunity to tell you. There was a period of months where you practically threw yourself all over him at every chance you got, and he did nothing. So this... this is just cruel—something you’ve never known Spencer Reid to be. 

You stand up, trembling slightly with rage and grief and humiliation. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t say things that you don’t mean just to make me feel better.” 

“What are you doing? Don’t--” 

You scoop up your purse, trying to get to the front door as fast as your gelatinous legs will allow. More tears are streaming down your face now and you don’t need him to see what he’s done to you—to see how much you care what he thinks. 

“It’s fine. Thanks for the coffee, I’ll see you around—” 

A hand around your wrist stops you in your tracks 

“Stop. Just... please give me a second to talk, okay?” 

With nothing left to give, you turn to him. 

“Don’t be mean, Spencer. Don’t act like you liked me too. That makes me feel... so much worse.” 

He takes a deep, shaky breath, as if steeling himself. Tawny eyes bore into your soul, and you realize that there is so much sheer nervous energy radiating off of him it’s infectious. Your heart begins to pound as he speaks. 

“I’m not doing that. I’m being an idiot, because you just told me that you don’t feel that way about me anymore but... but I do. And I have to tell you now because for six months I tortured myself wondering why you would flirt with me so much when you were hammered and then act like nothing happened the next day. There were so many times I almost told you how I felt but I didn’t and now I am because even if it ruins our friendship you need to know that somebody... that I wanted to be that person for you. I still do.” 

Your heart is like an unmoored zeppelin in your chest, bumping against your esophagus and threatening to either burst or jump out of your mouth. You take your chances, whispering so quietly it’s almost inaudible. 

“You... you like me?” 

“Yes,” Spencer sighs. “I have liked you for a very long time. And I’m sorry—” 

Whatever ridiculous thing he was going to apologize for, you don’t give him the chance. Instead you launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in a kiss that feels so much better than it’d ever been in your fantasies because it’s real. You hear his sharp intake of breath, but it only takes a second for him to respond, cradling your face in his hands like you’re the entire world. For a moment, time bends. Years of longing, of buried dreams crash into the present in a brilliant, dazzling explosion.

And then, as quickly as it started, he pulls away. The absence of his touch is like a vacuum, so much worse now that you know exactly how it feels to have his lips on yours, even if it was only for a few seconds. How the hell did you live like that for so long? How are you supposed to live like that ever again?

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he breathes, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he’s barely holding onto his self control. “You just want someone to comfort you, I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re in an emotionally vulnerable state and confided in me which is manufacturing a false sense of attachment—” 

You grab his wrists, which still graze your jaw.

“Spencer, stop intellectualizing for thirty seconds. I promise you I am thinking clearly.” 

“You said you used to like me, past tense—” 

“Yeah, I did. Do you believe every single murderer who says he didn’t do it?” 

“No, but—” 

“Have you ever heard the phrase; a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts?” 

“Of course I have.” 

“Then what more could you possibly need to be convinced that I really like you? I already kissed you! What is stopping you?” 

Another deep breath is taken by him that seems to suck all the air out of the quiet room. Briefly, you wonder if you’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake. If you really do like him so much more than he could ever like you.  

Until he looks back down, eyes so golden-brown in the dim light, so kind and full of affectionate concern as he carefully assesses every square centimeter of your face, looking for... well, you’re not exactly sure what. It’s like he’s extracting every thought from your head, turning them over like sun-warmed stones until he finds what he’s looking for. He smooths his hands over your hair, brushing strands away from your teary face. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of holding your breath, he speaks. 

“I just want you to believe what I believe about you. But I don’t want you to have to rely on me or anyone else for your own self-worth.” 

“Well, don’t you think very highly of yourself,” you tease with a sniffle. He laughs—it's quiet, but his smile is so bright without even trying that suddenly you can’t remember why you’ve ever been sad. The small miracle of his laughter makes you feel so light, and you realize it has nothing to do with the way he makes you feel about yourself. It has everything to do with who he is. 

Once the giggles die down, you tentatively mirror his hold on your face. 

“Spencer, I don’t like you because you like me. I’ve liked you for an embarrassingly long time. I liked you enough that I gave myself a severe hangover at least once a week for three months just so I could have an excuse to flirt shamelessly with you.” 

A half-sad smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he gently swipes under your eyes. 

“You never had to do that. I would have welcomed your sober brazen flirting with open arms.” 

“Well... do you believe me?” you plead. His amber eyes shine. 

“I do.” 

“Will you kiss me?” 

“If that’s what you want.” 

You nod, rising on your toes to meet him halfway. 

When your lips meet again, it is sweet, and honest, and slow, and deep. Still, there is no desperation--no race to an imagined finish line, no clash of teeth and pawing hands. It is a kiss for the sake of it—as if it were the greatest intimacy. Not a precursor to sharing a bed, but something bigger than that in and of its own. Something just as worthy and important. For the first time, you think you’re beginning to understand romance. And while you wouldn’t mind if things did escalate, you also know that Spencer knows that’s not what matters right now. Because he actually understands you—he actually cares. He will wait until you understand that you mean so much more than that to him.

To that end, he pulls away, gently supplanting his absence with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“It would be polite of me to offer you a ride home, wouldn’t it?” he whispers, like it’s the last thing he wants to do. You bite the inside of your cheek, coming up with reasons not to go. One ridiculous one arises from the depths of your memory that you know he won’t be able to say no to. 

“Or... I could stay here, and we could watch one of those nerdy foreign films you’re always talking about?” 

A slow, perfect, high-watt smile blossoms on his face, and you know you’ve said exactly the right thing. 

“Nerdy? Oh, my darling girl... Soviet-era filmography is far from nerdy. небесная машина will completely defy what you thought you knew about the life of an average Russian villager in the 1950’s.” 

“Oh, good. Because I’ve really been meaning to change the way I think about the average 1950’s Russian villager,” you smile, already closing in to kiss him again. 

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

epilogue

Three hours later, you’re crying because the life of the average Russian villager in the 1950’s was so much worse than you’d previously thought. 

“It was good, right?” Spencer asks as the credits roll over a bleak snowy sepia landscape, leaning back to get a better look at you. You sit up from where you’d been leaning against him, furiously wiping your eyes. 

“It was terrible! Why didn’t you tell me that everyone except the kid dies in the end?!” 

“Because that’s the whole point of the movie!” he laughs, pulling you back into him. “I’m sorry. I probably should have explained how depressing this entire era of film was outside of the US.” 

“And also how long the movies were. I was not prepared for how many five minute long clips of empty fields there were going to be.” 

“You’re right,” he ammends, wrapping his arms around you in a way that gives you butterflies and makes you sleepy at the same time. “Next time we can watch whatever you want to watch.” 

Time passes like that—you in his arms, watching weak light slowly flood the room with half-lidded eyes and listening to the sounds of the city waking up from the street below, underscoring the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Thoughts float by like leaves on the ever-flowing current of your mind, and you’re happy to let them pass until one in particular catches your attention. 

“Spencer?” 

He hums, like he’d been deep in his own proverbial river of thought. 

“What does pulchritude mean?” 

It takes him a split second to remember the bit of conversation from earlier to which you are referring, but when he does, he chuckles, running his hand over your messy hair. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

And so you let it float away. 

[kinopio-writes]

Hi! Would you be willing to write something for Adam with a sensitive reader?

Everyone knows that he is loud-mouthed jerk, even reader, and she loves him regardless, but one day he crosses the line and says something particularly mean that makes her cry. Like REAL mean. To the point that he pauses because he did not think before speaking (or, well, less than usual lol)

I'm happy with whatever format you feel like using! Thank you!

A/N: I will be more than delighted to write that for you. But would you excuse me for a moment? AHHHHHHDISJDIOEOFJSKXJND—I’m sorry; I love this idea so much. Reading ‘Adam with a sensitive reader’ got me hooked instantly. But I’ll go over that in the headcanons, along with the general stuff. And I’ll add a oneshot at the end that plays the exact scenario of Adam taking it too far.

Holy sh!t. I made it so that the reader being sensitive is their greatest but also weakest point and it turned out pretty angsty. Has a bit of hurt/comfort, though. Did I go overboard? Maybe. That’s why it took so long. Sorry, anon.

Words: 2,328 (edited)

Warnings: Sex is mentioned (only a bit, surprisingly), Angst, Adam being Adam

———

Adam w/ a Sensitive!Reader

• ha, this man is also sensitive himself

• well, sensitive about himself

• he feels his own emotions strongly, so he’s not the caring, easily able to pick up on other’s feelings and empathize type of sensitive

• you, on the other hand, are on the opposite end of the spectrum compared to Adam

• so you experience other people’s emotions just as strongly as yours

• you easily know what makes someone tick

• you’re selfless

• you’re able to admit your mistakes and apologize

• you’re respectful and actively listen to people when they talk about themselves

• you don’t push people down to make yourself seem better

• you try to make everyone feel good and comfortable

• you’re everything he isn’t

• because you fit in Heaven perfectly

• you deserve to be there

• and Adam knows that he doesn’t belong (subconsciously at least)

• you’re able to draw people in just for being yourself

• and he’s envious of it

• so he demeans you and is snarky about everything you do, and every time people give you praise or affection, he tries to divert the attention to himself or just stares at you with utter hatred from afar

• although all of that is just when he hasn’t even had a conversation with you

• after a while of being around you, he’ll cling to you because you give him the reassurance and validation he oh-so craves (he acts as if he didn’t hate you before. What do you mean? You two were always buddy-buddy!)

• you acknowledge all of the things he puts his worth to

• heck, you hang out with him—you sometimes even initiate it—willingly, and you’re genuinely interested in everything he has to say

• but he‘ll only hang out with you where no one recognizes you (so you don’t get all the attention)

• terrible transition here, but he notices that you mimic people’s expressions often

• he definitely makes fun of you for it

• and also mocks you

• up until he realizes that you do the same thing to him, too

• which is fine and all, if only you didn’t do that when he’s upset

• well, you mimic him when he’s joyous as well, but he (already subconsciously) expects you to. I mean, why wouldn’t you? He’s fucking hilarious!

• so you copying his negative emotions just stands out more

• and he…doesn’t like it

• that’s only really what he doesn’t like about you

• and the fact that you hog all the attention

• and the fact that people see you as perfect…

• buuut what happens when he gets to see a new side of you that isn’t exactly upholding that image?

———

Your phone lit up from your bedside table, brightening your otherwise dark room along with the soft glow of your halo. You only moved your eyes to the light, not wanting your tears to spill and dampen your pillows.

You had an inkling as to who was texting you this late—if the fact that your phone lighting up several times in the span of 5 minutes had anything to say.

When the texts stopped pouring in after a few seconds, you heavily sighed, wings ruffling. You resisted the urge to rub your face as you went to grab your phone.

HEY (2:34) HEY (2:34) HEY (2:34) ARE YOU UP? (2:35) I’M BORED (2:35) GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE (2:36) IF YOU’RE UP (2:37) ARE YOU? (2:38) DID I TELL YOU THAT BITCH WITH THE HUGE TITS GOT FIRED TODAY? (2:39)

Figured. Of course, it was Adam. He was the only person you knew who’d be awake at this ungodly hour. And the only person you knew who’d disturb your peace if it meant curing anything that ailed him. Which was now about boredom, it seemed.

You read a few of his texts displayed on your lock screen before tapping one of the notifications and opening the app, scanning the rest of the unread messages.

Adam was going on about ‘that bitch with the huge tits’—her name was Tiffany, you were sure—and how she was rumored to have slept with an archangel to assume higher authority. He also went on to complain about how he didn’t have the chance to bed her anymore since she was basically deemed an outcast and that he couldn’t be seen with someone like her.

You frowned, not believing any of it, but you didn’t have time to think about it enough when he began typing again.

SO YOU’RE AWAKE (2:43)

You barely finished reading the new message when another one popped up.

DON’T IGNORE ME BITCH (2:43)

You frowned deeper, quick to type out a reply.

i’m not (2:43) i was just reading your texts (2:43) don’t worry (2:43) i’ll be there soon (2:44)

When he stopped typing, you placed your phone back on the nightstand, sitting up on your bed as you carefully wiped away your teary eyes. You hugged yourself for a moment, wings functioning as a cocoon while a hand tugged on your hair.

Today had been draining—both mentally and emotionally. Just like the day before, and the day before that. But you didn’t want to think about it, lest you start to cry some more and smear your face with tears this time. What mattered was that everyone was back on their feet again.

Since you didn’t bother changing into your sleepwear when you got home, you only checked your face in the mirror to see if your eyes were puffy or not. You then took in deep breaths, holding up your drooping wings before putting up a charming smile.

You couldn’t stay in the bathroom for long, quickly leaving to tread the path to Adam’s.

•••

“BOO!” Adam’s masked face suddenly peeked from the corner of his hallway, earning an indescribable scream from you as you jerked back. He burst out laughing, brows creased in confusion but also amusement. He couldn’t even make fun of you for getting scared. “What the—what the fuck was that scream?”

Recovering rather quickly as you blinked, you only smiled at him. You were expecting him to wait for you on his couch as his front door was left unlocked, but you weren’t complaining; his action took away any drowsiness you just had.

When Adam didn’t hear you laugh with him, his laughter subsided as he opened his eyes to look at your face. He raised his brows and placed the back of his hands on his hips. “What’s up with you?”

Shit. There was no way Adam was seeing through you.

“Nothing; I just love hearing you laugh.” You heard a tiny squeak in response. “Anyway, what did you make me come over for? Surely not just to scare me.” You moved past Adam and tightly crossed your arms, entering his spacious living room.

“Pshh, fuck no. You’re so easy to spook. Though that was a first. Didn’t know you could hit high notes, (Name).”

You didn’t know what to say to his…compliment? And sort of insult? Was it really either of them? Should you thank him? But in a sarcastic way? No, you weren’t known for being sarcastic, so he might think you were being genuine and look at you weirdly. And it would also seem highly egotistical.

Not as if Adam had much to say about that…

You tugged at your hair when you caught yourself with those thoughts. Shit, that’s so rude! You can’t think that! You shouldn’t think that!

You settled on an awkward chuckle, making yourself appear smaller as you averted your eyes to his TV space.

It was different, certainly. The modular couch pieces were rearranged into a pit sectional. And it looked as though he had chucked a bunch of pillows and one large blanket as an afterthought. It appeared messy, but at least it looked cozy.

“What’s this?”

“Hm? Oh, well, since you were taking your sweet ass time coming here, I thought to switch things up a bit.” You flinched when his head appeared right on your shoulder. “What’d ya think?”

“It looks super comfy.” Adam wore a goofy grin behind you as you walked closer to the area and noticed that he already prepared snacks on the low table. “Is this a way to say you wanna do a movie marathon?”

“You know it, baby.” He flew past you and landed on the sofa, patting the space beside him with a smile you just couldn’t reject.

•••

Heaven’s natural light beginning to peek through the open windows indicated that it was already dawn. Thank goodness you didn’t have work today.

You two—or rather, Adam—had settled on watching the film series, Die Hard. Every single one. You didn’t mind, but you didn’t understand why Adam invited you over if you two were just going to rewatch the film series for the eighth time.

He had also been pretty immersed in the large screen in front of him, so he hadn’t attempted to converse with you ever since the first movie started. In all honesty, he could have just watched them all by himself.

But you didn’t question it. This time was the same as the last seven, after all. You always concluded that maybe he just wanted someone to watch movies with, no talking necessary. Even if the no-talking part sounded a bit out of character.

Was it though? Because he did that quite often. For instance, he constantly brought you along to whatever mundane errands he had to do during the weekdays and never really talked with you unless he found something cool and pointed it out.

Although, the earlier times you tagged along with him on his errands, he kept yapping his mouth off about the ‘totally awesome’ things he does. He talked about music, his own albums, his band, women, sex, and himself as the first-ever man.

As time went on, however, the talking was replaced with silence. You wondered if he just ran out of things to say or if he found it unnecessary to talk anymore.

You also sometimes wondered what was going through his head when he thought you didn’t see him glancing at you while he was doing something he believed was boring.

The sound of Adam’s stomach rumbling broke you out of your train of thought.

You both looked at each other blankly as if either of you were to blame.

He blinked to break the eye contact between you. “(Name), I’m hungry.”

You snorted, facing ahead. “You ate all of our snacks before the first movie even finished.”

“Don’t blame me.” He hugged the pillow he held tighter. “I’m still fuckin’ hungry, though.”

You hummed as you reached for your pocket. “Do you want me to—oh. I…I forgot my phone.” You frowned. You never forget to bring your belongings.

Adam merely stared at you, unblinking.

You averted your eyes and held your legs tighter. “Uhm, We could get delivery if you want. Can you lend me your phone?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” He casually tossed you the device before laying on his back and looking up at you. “I’m down for anything.”

His phone hit your knee before you could catch it, silently landing on the cushions. “Are you sure?” You picked it up, opened his unlocked phone, and stared at his basic home screen.

He didn’t really use his phone that often to know that it could be changed. He only really used it to fetch one-night stands or occasional dates, text, play music aloud, look at outdated memes, take random blurry photos, and right now, order delivery.

“Totally.” His crow’s feet displayed on his mask as he puffed out his cheeks.

“Because last time you said that, you didn’t like what I had to pick.”

“That’s because the 5 ʼn 2 is so fucking overrated!” he suddenly started to complain. Your wings ruffled. “Jeez, I swear, every fuckin’ time I take a chick out and ask her what her favorite eatery is, basic bitches always go, ‘Oh, bREaD & fIsH, ceRTAinLy’ or ‘bReAD & FiSh’S a cLAsSIC’” He used his hand as a puppet to imitate their words before waving it. “Like, helloooo? Can’t you see the joint that’s literally on the other side of the street’s a hundred times superior? It’s cheaper, too, unlike Bread & Fish. Overpriced ass. You get me, right—?”

“Then you pick!” Adam jumped at your volume, and your eyes widened upon noticing yourself. You quickly gave back his phone as you turned your face away from him, and he slowly took it with a weird look.

“Shit, chill, (Name). The fuck’s up your ass?” He kept his gaze on you before turning to his phone.

While he was serious about his opinions of your bland tastes, he didn’t think it was that personal. Your preferences were the same as everyone else and that was boring. He was just being honest. And you usually didn’t take the things he said that seriously.

“Adam, I’m sorry,” you spoke up after a moment of silence and ran a hand through your hair. “I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“ʼs not a problem.” He was still a bit weirded out, but he was willing to shrug it off.

You insisted, however, “I mean it. I’m not mad at you.”

“Okay…?” he muttered when he saw a notification pop up from Lute. Her message consisted of how some of the exterminators got into a quarrel during roll call and the ones involved got injured in the process. She said she was going to discipline them.

Adam did not want to know what she meant by that and was most likely not going to stop by their place today.

“Really. I’m not. Sorry. It’s just that yesterday’s been…”

“Uh-huh…” At this point, Adam was not listening to anything you were saying. But when he still heard the static noise that was your words, he groaned. “Look, sweetie, I really don’t give a fuckin’ shit about your fuckin’ apology, ʼkay? I don’t fuckin’ care. Now what do you want?”

You saw Adam’s confused yet concerned expression after he looked up from his phone and immediately noticed that you were starting to cry. You instantly turned your face away as you carefully wiped your eyes.

“Sorry. Sorry. I’m not crying because of you.” You didn’t know if that was true. You didn’t know if you were crying because of his words or were crying because of everything else.

That was the first time he ever used a sweet petname for you in a long time. He only ever used that to demean or mock other people.

Shit. Stop thinking—you were going to cry more. But even after carefully wiping your eyes away, new tears kept flowing. You couldn’t stop. This was humiliating. You wanted to disappear. You didn’t want anyone to witness you in this state. It was mortifying.

“Shit.” Adam’s voice came out panicky as he held his hands out towards you, but he hesitated. Hesitated in what, he didn’t even know.

He…didn’t think you could cry.

Adam didn’t know what to do; this emotional shit wasn’t his thing. He couldn’t ask you to leave, he knew that much, but he didn’t want to leave himself. This was his place. Why should he leave?

So, he did the only thing he could do in this situation.

You suddenly felt something warm envelop you.

You didn’t look up, but you knew it was Adam. You could feel the texture of his robe on your hands and the side of your face. You could feel his hands on your shoulder blade, but you couldn’t quite feel his arms on you.

You stopped wiping your eyes for a moment.

No one had ever hugged you before when you were sad.

No one had ever let you be sad.

Adam heard you sob.

Fucking great. He made it worse. What the fuck was he supposed to do then?

But when he went to unwrap his arms, he felt yours slip around his midsection, pulling him closer than before as he grunted from your firm hold.

So you wanted to be hugged? Alright. Whatever.

Adam slowly hugged you back after you muttered a ‘sorry’ and loosened your grip.

The next seconds were silent, so when he heard muffled words coming from you, he looked down. You also looked up moments later when he didn’t respond, realizing he must’ve not heard you.

Your gaze softened as you two held eye contact, and with teary eyes, you smiled. “Thank you, Adam.”

Something about his expression changed, but before you could stare any longer, you felt a hand behind your head push you back to his chest as the arm on your back held you tight.

“Yeah, whatever…”

[wosoragebaiter69]

late

barça femeni x teen!reader

request: here & here

A/N: i love everything about this request. (i did make lucy ona and keira a throuple for the memes)

also Asisat has left.. no more dedicated funny person in my stories 😔

TW: Panic Attack

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

You’re late. You’re never late. That’s how you end up on the phone with Ona, stressed and out of your mind.

“I’m not sure Ona! All I know is that my period is late, and I am FREAKING out, so god help me and come over please.” You’re borderline screaming at the phone.

“Ok ok, please just calm down I’ll be there soon. When I get there you better have an explanation of why you think you might be pregnant, you are literally 17.” You can hear her disappointment.

“Yes I know, I know. Just get the tests please.” She says yes and promptly hangs up the phone as you go back to worrying.

- - - - -

All was going well for Ona, she bought two tests which were different brands and payed for them without getting recognised by any fans. She opts to not buy a bag, considering it’s 8pm at night. It’s not like she was going to run into anyone anyways, right?

Wrong, immediately as she walks out of the pharmacy, tests in hand she bumps into not only her captain. But 1 of her 2 girlfriends as well.

“Uhh, what is that?” Lucy says, looking down at the tests in her girlfriends hand.

“I, uhh.” The younger spaniard starts to freak out, not wanting to put you in a vulnerable position.

“Tell us.” Alexia says sternly, leaving no room for argument.

“Well, it’s not for me. It’s for… it’s for Y/N.” The older women look visibly shaken and shocked.

“Disculpe!”

“Qué?”

They speak at the same time.

“Ok, I’m about to go to her house. Lucy you can come with me and Ale you can come if you’d like.”

“I’ll leave the nena to you both, just update me ok?” Alexia is concerned, rightfully so. Ona and Lucy nod, before getting in the car and driving to your place.

- - - - -

You open the door, surprised to see not 1 but 2 visitors.

“Hola.” You say before allowing them access inside the apartment.

“Sorry, I uh might’ve ran into Lucy and Alexia and I had to tell them.” Ona blurts out, you don’t worry though as it would probably get out anyways.

“It’s fine… can I just have the tests now?” She nods slowly, passing them to you before running off to the bathroom.

When you’ve followed the instructions and done what’s needed, you walk out and place the two sticks on the table, flipping them upside down. Once again you begin to spiral.

“Oh god, what if it’s positive.” You mumble, pushing your knees to your chest.

“Hey, if it is positive we’ll do our best to support you, if it’s negative then there’s nothing to worry about. Might be a cyst or something. Take deep breaths for me ok?” Lucy’s reassuring voice leads you into a less panicked state, and you just hoped that time would fly by faster.

When the timer on Ona’s phone went off, you felt sick. You took deep breaths as Ona scratched your back slightly. You counted in your head to three and flipped both tests open to reveal one negative… and one positive. Oh fuck.

“Ona? Luce? Please. What do I do, I’m scared.” Tears stream down your face, your body starts to shake and Lucy immediately holds you tight against her.

“Shh, shh, it’s ok. It might be a false positive, youre going to be ok I promise.” She says as you’re crying, her words fall deaf in your ears as you can only sob harder. Now going into a full panic attack.

“Call Keira, I’ll message Alexia.” Ona nods and calls the other Englishwoman.

- - - - -

It’s around 5 minutes later, you feel like you’re going to pass out when there’s knocks on the door. You register something else happening and soon enough someone has their hands touching your knees and speaking.

The person takes your hand and puts it agaisnt something that’s beating and you try to get in sync with it.

Soon enough, you regain your senses and it’s Keira who’s pulled you back to reality. It seems she knows you’re back with the look she gives.

“Hey…” She whispers softly, wiping the tears out of your eyes. “Whatever happens, you have me, the team and we won’t judge you at all. Ok?” You nod.

It takes a few more minutes until you’re basically back to where you were. You look up at their curious gazes.

“You can ask questions if you want.” You answer the unspoken question.

“So you… you had sex.” You nod at Keira.

“With a guy?” Ona pipes up and you sigh nodding your head again.

“Ok, how about this. Give it another week and we’ll do another two tests, IF you haven’t got your period by then, sound good?” You half-smile and stare at the table.

“Do you want any of us to stay at all?” You shrug, not even sure what you want at the current moment. “Ok, Keira will stay with you and you’ll go to training in the morning. We updated Alexia and she’s worried. She agrees with us about the waiting and what we’ll do after today. She might want to speak to you tomorrow though.”

“Ok, thank you for everything Luce and you Ona.” You look at both of them, smiling gratefully. They pat you on the shoulder before walking out to presumably go home. Then Keira turns to you.

“I brought stuff over in case, don’t worry about lending clothes or anything like that.”

“Ok… could you maybe sleep- like in the bed with me?” You ask, slightly embarrassed.

“Not at all come on, you need the rest.” She leads you to your room and you immediately crash fast asleep against the pillow.

- - - - -

The next morning when you wake up, you know something has changed. There’s a light ache in your abdomen and your muscles are slightly sore. Keira is peacefully lying beside you and you’re happy that she stuck to her word and stayed.

You lazily make your way to the bathroom to use the toilet when you feel as if God has blessed you. low and behold that positive from the previous night was a false one.

You feel immediately at ease and get done what needs to be done in the morning.

“Keira!” You greet happily, she smiles slightly confused. Considering it’s such a dramatic change from last night.

“What’s up?” She asks.

“I finally got it.” It takes a second for her to register what you meant by that but when she does she’s also happy.

“Well, that’s great. Come on, eat this muesli bar and we’ll get going, then you can tell the girls about it.” You nod and head off to training.

- - - - -

When you walk in the room where all the girls are, the ones who knew look at you in surprise of the look of joy on your face.

“Why so happy cariño?” Ale asks.

“Well it seems like someone has blessed me because this morning I got what I’d been hoping for. My period.” You say dramatically and she smiles.

“YAYY THE BEBE ISN’T PREGNANT!” Mapi’s loud voice shouts as you look down, cheeks turning red.

“Welcome to womanhood elskling.” Ingrid pulls you in and presses a kiss against your temple.

—————————————————————————

i fangirled so hard today on the woso writers discord

[redheadspark]

Never Ever

Summary - Azriel consols his son after a nightmare.

A/N - This is part of the Ocean Eyes Series

Azriel has gown accustom to the quiet in Velaris.

The little home out in the countryside was especially quiet, with the moon hanging high in the sky amongst the clouds and the grass softly swaying in the wind, Azriel loved this kind of quiet.  He was accustomed to frogs bellowing from the river not too far away, or the faint hum of fireflies that were dancing along the tops of the herbs in the garden behind the cottage.  He was used to it now, and he would prefer this over the sterile silence of the Illyrian camps or even in the city of Velaris. 

This was one of the very few nights he was home.  Most of the time he would work late or until around dinner time, Rhysand needing his Spymaster duties more frequently than ever before.  With the improved relationship with Autumn Court getting better by the day, Eris was still a targeting threat to Night Court.  He knew that threats he had two times against Azriel and his family, so The Autumn Prince has been quiet for the last few months or so.  Azriel still kept his shadows busy with intel from Eris.

He had no trust in Eris, and he wouldn’t anytime soon.

You were helping Nesta and Cassian at the House of Wind, Nesta being so close to her due date that she was restricted to her bed until it was time to give birth.  Madja had to be stern with her, knowing Nesta was a stubborn fae.  She was convinced though, Cassian staying by her side to give her plenty of rest and preparation for their new title bundle of joy.  You were more than willing to help, making plenty of herbs for her and prepping plenty of great meals for herself and Cassian to enjoy.  It meant that you were the one staying out a bit later in the night, and Azriel would be on cottage duty.

Of course, Alec missed his mother being around.  When he wasn’t attending school in the mornings in Velaris, he would be at home or on a playdate with Nyx.  Azriel could tell he was missing you from time to time when you’d be helping his Aunt Nesta.  He was good at hiding his feelings, even with the faint signs of his shadows humming against his small backside, Alec never wanted to show that he wanted his mother.  It pained Azriel to see his son trying to hide his feelings, but then again he had to do the same when he was young.

Azriel made it a point to change that with Alec.

He had finished the last of the dishes to let them air dry when he first felt it along his shadows.  Movement, very close by, making him pause from his actions.  It wasn’t a negative sense so to speak, but something familiar.  Something warm, not a threat, and nothing dangerous.  He knew that feeling, and the next thing he heard was one of the floorboards creaking from very little weight.  

Lastly, he heard a sniffle.  Instantly he turned, knowing who it was within an instant.

Alec, in his pajamas, and massive tears on his cheeks.

“D-d-daddy,” He hiccuped.

Azriel was gliding over within an instant and scooping him up within his arms.  Alec clung to him, his face digging into his father’s neck so his father could feel the tears hitting his shirt.  It broke his heart to see Alec in tears, a sweet young boy who would never hurt fly and would light up his tiresome day.  Azriel also knew his heart was tender, so tender and consumed with love, so there would be times when it would break or shatter.  

All Azriel could do was pick up those pieces and mend his heart.

“What’s wrong, Alec?  You wanna tell me?” Azriel asked him in a soothing tone, rubbing his back with his knuckles as he walked them over to the couch to sit.  Alec was hiccuping in his lap, his fingers clinging to Azriel’s shirt too tight as Azriel kept cooing at him, “I got you, okay?  You’re safe with me,”

“I-I had a b-b-bad dream,” Alec mumbled into his shirt, sniffling a bit.

“I’m sorry, buddy.  Nightmares are simply scary dreams.  But that’s all they are: dreams.  Nothing real, okay?” Azriel reminded his son, who nodded his head rapidly as he moved his head to look up at his other.  His bright eyes were almost illuminated, and the tears on his cheeks were evident.

“I didn’t l-l-like the dream though, Daddy,” he explained, Azriel hummed and pushed his tears away gently with his thumbs.

“I know you didn’t, buddy.  You wanna tell me about it?” He asked his son, he bit his lower lip for a brief moment as his father waited patiently.  It was one of the traits Ariel loved about his son: always in deep thought.

“You and momma weren’t there,” Alec explained, Azriel watching his son’s piercing blue eyes start to mist again as he was looking at his fingers that were fiddling in his lap, “I was lost and I tried to find you, and momma.  But I couldn’t find you, and I..I g-g-ot—“

Azriel tucked him into a hug again as Alec sniffled and blinked out a few more tears.  Azriel knew his son loved being around his parents, he had a sense of safety with you and Azriel.  It was one of the main goals Azriel had: to make his son feel loved and safe.  It wasn’t that Alec was insanely introverted, he had friends at his school and a wonderful relationship with his cousin Nyx.  Alec would rather be around his big loving family than anywhere else. The last thing Azriel would ever want is for his son to not feel safe at any time.  

“My sweet boy,” Azriel hummed into his son’s hair while he rubbed Alec’s back soothingly with the tips of his fingers, “You should never be afraid of being alone.  You will never be alone, okay?  Your momma and I will never ever leave you alone,”

Azriel heard his son sniffle a bit, then pausing before speaking in a mere murmur, “Never?”

He had to smile against his son’s black locks, hearing the small inkling of hope in his son’s tone, “Never ever.  You’re our son, Alec Rhysand, and we love and adore you too much to leave you alone,”

It seemed to do the trick since Azriel could no longer hear Alec crying or sniffling too much.  But he was still holding onto his father, not as tightly but possessively.  He finally sat back up, Azriel seeing how he was a bit calmer and sleep was evident on his face and under his eyes.  He grinned, “How about I tuck you back into bed, okay?”

“Mmkay, and daddy?” Alec asked tentatively.

“Yeah, Alec?”

“I miss momma,”  

Azriel heard the pain in his voice from those three words, which broke his heart a bit.  He knew Alec loved his mother and wanted to be around her constantly.  You were an exceptional mother to Alec, you knew just how to shower him with love and still be firm at the same time when it was needed.  But the best thing that you did, in Azriel’s opinion at least, was make Alec feel like the most important Illryian throughout the land.  

It was as if you were born to be a mother.  Azriel firmly believed that.

“I know, buddy. I miss her too,” Azriel agreed, standing up with Alec in his arms as Alec’s head was snuggled on his shoulder with his eyes blinking slowly and a yawn on his lips, “However, if I know your momma, she should be back very soon.  But right now she’s helping Aunt Nesta, remember?”

“Helping her before she has the baby?” Alec asked as Azriel walked down the hallway back to Alec’s little bedroom.

“That’s right. Your momma wants to help her before the baby comes, and that means she has to be away for a bit.  But not forever,” Azriel reassured his son as he made it to the door that was left ajar that led into Alec’s room.  

“I hope not forever,” Alec mumbled, yawning again as Azriel chuckled and poked his head into the small room.  Alec’s bed was tucked against the wall and by a window that looked out into the open meadow, Velaris not too far away along with the massive mountains.  His dresser was in the closet that had his clothes and small trinkets sitting on the top.  The walls were painted in tints of purple and blue to reflect the night sky, all thanks to Aunt Feyre, and plenty of toys that were tucked into a beautiful wooden toy chest with his name engraved on the top, a generous gift from his Uncle Rhysand.  

Azriel walked his son across the room, dodging the wooden sword that Alec got as a Winter Solstice gift from Cassian last year and then placing his son back in bed.  Alec snuggled into the bed as Azriel tucked the blanket up and around his arms.  Azriel could see that he was beyond sleepy, rubbing his eyes with his fingers and trying to stay awake as his head was sinking into the plush pillow, “Tomorrow we can go to the harbor. You, me, and momma. How does that sound?”

Alec lit up a bit from the suggestion, his smile infectious as he nodded his head, “Mmkay, Daddy.  I wanna get a present for Nesta’s baby too,” 

“You want to get a gift?” Azriel asked, almost in a bit of shock as Alec nodded his head again.

“Mmhmm.  Maybe a stuffy like my owl, so that if the baby gets sad, the stuffy will help,” He suggested, his voice showing signs of slumber and his eyes starting to drift close with ease.  Azriel was immensely proud of his son, seeing how big his heart was even when he was missing his mother and experiencing a nightmare.  

“That sounds like a great idea, Alec.  Now, let’s get some sleep, okay?  I’ll make sure momma comes in to give you a kiss when she gets home, okay?”  Azriel asked him as Alec held his stuffed owl in his tiny arms.

“Okay, Daddy.  Night night,” Alec replied, letting out one more big yawn before his eyes drifted closed.

“Goodnight, buddy.  I love you,” Azriel hummed against his head, pressing one more kiss against his dark locks.  He then got up from the bed, about to walk out of the bedroom and close the door behind him when he heard a soft sound from the bed.

“Love you too, daddy,”

Azriel turned back and looked, seeing Alec drifting back to sleep with a soft smile.  Once again, Azriel had to pause and drink in his life: to anyone else, it would be seen as mundane or ordinary.  Not to him, not to the Spymaster who went through torment and pain as a youngster and always had to have people arm's length away.  He saw death head-on and fought back, he’s seen fae and other beings die around him as he went on, and he always assumed he wouldn’t have a simple life or that the simple life would fulfill him.

He was wrong.  This life was the only life he would ever want and need. 

As he turned off the light and closed the door, with the moonlight dancing along his son’s sleeping face, Azriel considered himself a lucky Illryian for this life.  He no longer had to rely on fear or brutality as other Illryians did, nor did he have to be uncertain if he would ever be happy.  He was beyond happy, happy with a mate who loved him with all his flaws, happy that he had a found family who brought him out of darkness and doubt, and most importantly, happy with his son who saw Azriel as his world and more.  

The next morning Azriel noticed that your side of the bed was still untouched, which made him slightly panic.  But your jacket was hung on the back of a chair, as well as your messenger bag you would take.  That made him confused as he got up from bed and ruffled his hair.  Anytime either one of you would come in late, you would notify each other.  Azriel couldn’t recall hearing you whisper to him last night or getting a kiss on the cheek, yet your things were in the room.  

He poked his head into Alec’s room, seeing an adorable and loving sight as you cradled your son in your arms and the pair of you sleeping in Alec’s bed.  Your wings drooped over the side of the small bed, Alec snoring away as his head was on your chest fast asleep while you too were in deep sleep with your arms tucked around him.  With the early morning sun rays dancing in the room to brighten the space, it felt peaceful and almost tranquil in a way.  

Azriel had to grin: the two most important beings in his life were sleeping together.  

The End.

tagged - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams @prettylittlewrites @fxckmiup

[theofficialpresidentofmars]

zuko and katara have genuinely SUCH an interesting dynamic and relationship to explore when you don’t have a bitch in your ear trying to tell you they should kiss.

like there’s nothing objectively wrong with shipping zut4ra but i CANNOT find any proper duo content of them that isn’t romantic or romantically implied and it annoys me. no i don’t think they would work. no i don’t think Katara would give up her man for that guy of all people. no I don’t think Zuko would be romantically interested in Katara. yes i do think that reducing all of their feelings towards each other into ‘romance’ oversimplifies and undermines the depth of the platonic relationship that they actually do have in established canon. yes whatever I’m sure there’s something sweet about a boy trying to get a girl to forgive him by helping her get revenge on the guy that killed her mom but don’t you think that it’s actually much more profound if there are no romantic ulterior motives whatsoever and it’s actually just a demonstration of the lengths Zuko will go to because he cares deeply about his friends and their feelings and what they think about him and he wants Katara to like him and he’s genuinely sorry that he broke her trust by warming up to her slightly before betraying them and to make sure she knows that he was being sincere and he actually was touched by what she said he tries to find a way for her to heal a wound that he knows tears her apart and it’s a wound he wishes he could heal in himself. and he does it because he’s trying to earn her forgiveness, not her love. he’s trying to earn himself the right to look her in the eye, not to hold her hand. he’s trying to amend for the mistakes of his people for nothing but the better of others.

and when Katara offers to heal him in the cave, it’s not because she’s fallen head over heels at all, or even in the slightest. she’s the first to see the light in him, and she sees a boy who’s been hurt by the fire nation in a similar way to her. she recognises that if she can convince him to come with her now, the gaang is up by a firebending teacher and a friend at best, and down an enemy at least at worst. for a moment she sees him for who he is and what he’s been through and it’s not because she likes him. the thought doesn’t even cross her mind, it’s just in her nature as a person to be caring and understanding and she has the help she can tell he needs, so she extends a hand.

and when they face Azula together? Katara was the first to reach out when it was almost the right time, and she’s the one who’ll be there to help him see it through. When he takes a bolt for her, isn’t it more profound that he jumps in front of the bolt not out of romantic love, but because Zuko is the kind of person who would put himself in mortal danger for anyone he cared about? Because his heart’s too big and because he’s seen those he love get hurt too many times to stand there and let them take it?

anyway I’ve spent too much of this post refuting romance but not actually expressing what it is i do like about their platonic dynamic but it’s late and i don’t have the words. so i’ll just say it’s such in that it would be really funny if Zuko instead dated Katara’s brother. and they yap together and she gives him a list of interests and he tells her embarrassing date stories. they also yap a lot about Aang because like. Zuko’s bff and Katara’s bf he’d probably come up a lot. also Maiko’s platonic shit-talking exes/close friends dynamic solos their romantic dynamic but that’s a discussion for another day ^-^

ship name censored because I don’t intend for any negativity to actually intrude upon certain shipping spaces lmao. i’m rarely opinionated but i don’t really care tbh i just wish there was more platonic stuff out there or i saw less romantic stuff el oh el

[natailiatulls07]

Fake lovers

Lando Norris x female!driver!reader

Summary - McLaren wants to repair Landos image and Lando just wants to protect the papaya sunshine

Warning - one night stands (not between Lando and the reader), alcoholism, doing drugs, stalking and stalker, violence, sexualising, harassment

Reader drives for McLaren

-

McLaren had a problem. One of their drivers was creating a bad reputation for himself, partying every night, different girl in his bed every night and same old hangover the next morning. Lando was painting a bad picture for McLaren, making them look like they took on someone incapable of taking care of themselves and those around them.

Yet McLaren had another driver, Y/n L/n. She was their golden girl, new to the formula one business, quickly getting to grips with each car and track. Never was she painting a negative image of McLaren, the complete opposite to her teammate, Lando.

It was similar on track, Lando would always find a way to fumble on track and then would proceed to let out his anger towards the team, the other teams and the press but not his teammates. Headlines filled with his frustration and attitude.

F1 News

Once again, Lando Norris has become unruly to anyone in his way. Will this once golden boy ever get his shine back or is his future in formula one just dull?

But Y/n L/n, oh how the fans loved her. Always stopping to sign anything, to take photos or even to just have a genuine conversation. On track, she’d try to avoid any collisions, penalties or arguments. Even if she didn’t get on that podium, you’d see her sporting a proud and exciting smile whilst looking up the three on the podium.

In contrast to her teammate, Y/n’s headlines were seemingly always positive.

F1 News

McLarens golden girl is back from the summer break and she is better than ever. She is smashing the drivers into the dirt, yet also being very polite. How can anyone be mad at the rookie?

-

McLaren needed to get the situation under control, get Lando back to his normal self. Everyone could see him losing himself to drugs, alcohol and sex, and McLaren wanted to save him before it was too late.

So that is why McLaren came up with the plan to get the two drivers to 'date'. They planned this to inprove Lando's image.

That’s how’s Lando ending up standing outside Y/n’s apartment. Knocking on the door, he heard a faint call from inside. “One second, sorry let yourself in”

She had known it was him. Clumsily Y/n had lost track of time, and was late getting ready.

Walking in, Lando found Y/n rushing around her bedroom. “Hi..” He was nervous, not used to this old school ‘romantic’ situation.

Usually he’d be getting ready to go to yet another club to get yet another girl that he would sleep with and never remember her again. But he was here, watching his current teammate and soon to be fake girlfriend rushing around her bedroom before their fake date.

“Hey, I’m so sorry! I was reading and sort of lost time” Y/n quickly looked up from her vanity where she was finishing her makeup, she had a genuine shameful and sorry look in her eyes.

“It’s um it’s okay” This was totally not his element, however he felt somewhat comfortable. Anyone who had spent some time in Y/n’s presence could tell you that she had that relaxing aura about herself.

“You can make yourself at home if you want, I won’t be that long” Once again Y/n looked up at the British man offering a kind smile, she was just finishing her mascara.

Lando nodded his head before making his way towards the cozy living room. Fairy lights lit the room with a tranquil vibe.

-

It wasn’t long before Y/n’s heels started to echo throughout the small Monte Carlo apartment. Lando looked up from his phone to see her walking out of the bedroom.

She was wearing a dainty black dress. “Are you ready?” Y/n sent Lando a small graceful smile, whilst he got up from the the soft couch.

“Yep let’s go..” His voice was still quiet, still apprehensive of the whole plan.

At first he refused the plan; despite not caring about those around him, he felt bad for bring this sunshine of a driver into his problems.

Lando knew of the hate he got for his attitude and his lifestyle. And he desperately wanted to keep her away from those people who looked on him that way.

-

That evening, Lando swapped out constant drinks for nonalcoholic drinks. He swapped out multiple girls at once for one soft spoken and genuine women who was patient and easygoing.

They spoke openly with each other for hours whilst at the restaurant. Speaking up until a waitress, who was slightly nervous to be waitering two formula one drivers, came over to notify them that the restaurant was closing.

“You know…I don’t agree with what the media or the press say about you..” They were making a slow pace back towards her apartment, when she looked up at him with sympathy.

“To be honest I don’t care, I mean I see them but I don’t take them to heart” Lando had a awkward smile following his comment.

“But you don’t deserve it…like that one time when we were waiting for post race press, you let me borrow your jacket because I forgot mine” It was back when they were in Canada, the weather was horrible.

And whilst they were waiting for their press interviews, Lando had noticed how every so often Y/n would shiver. So he shrugged off his papaya McLaren jacket before pulling it over her shoulder. Of course, Y/n was quick to protest against it politely as to which Lando quickly turned her arguments down.

As they continued to slowly walk back, Lando didn’t reply to her comment. He wanted to agree with her but he knew that his career was on a downward spiral.

-

The next morning, the two driver woke up in their individual apartments to many articles with several paparazzi photos of their ‘date’

F1 News

McLaren’s resident bad boy and their resident good girl has chemistry brewing between themselves. They were seen in Monte Carlo on a date, different to Lando Norris’ usual evenings in different clubs.

Has the bad boy gone good for the golden girl? What will this mean for formula one’s good girl? Will Norris just dispose of L/n like the many other girls he brought home or is this different?

See picture below 👇

-

Over the next few of months, both Y/n and Lando started to attend more events together, going on more ‘dates’ and even becoming more and more affectionate in the paddock. It quickly felt normal to have that affection with each other.

Soon enough the media and the press started to calm down on Lando, they saw how his lifestyle changed.

He went from night clubs to cafe dates. Most of Lando’s time was consumed with the sunshine that was his fake girlfriend but he didn’t complain. He loved it!

“Hey Lando..” Y/n called from the living room.

“Yeah?” Lando was in the kitchen, making both himself and her a quick snack.

“The guy in my instagram dm’s just sent me a text…” Over the past couple of months a random guy had been sending Y/n uncomfortable texts.

Some were more concerning then others;

Oh doll, I’d love to see you in my bed

Your boyfriend doesn’t deserve your body, come to me babygirl

I know where you live little lady, you might as well come to me now

Every time, Y/n would block and report him yet he would make other accounts before continuing. Each time Lando would send him a dm, protecting her.

“Okay please give me the phone” Walking back into the living room, Lando was handed her phone.

He quickly sent the older man a message once again protecting the poor driver. Sitting beside Y/n on the couch, but his typing was cut short when there was a knock on the apartment door.

“I’ll get it” Getting up from the couch, Y/n slipped on her soft slippers before making her way to the door.

Upon opening the door, she was greeted with the same man who had been harassing her on instagram. “Hey little lady”

He had a creepy and sickening smile on his face, Y/n could smell the strong smell of alcohol radiating off of him.

As soon as Lando heard the old man’s greeting he was up from the couch immediately, making his way to stand in front of Y/n.

“Sir please can you leave my girlfriend alone both here and in the future, it is very clear that she is beyond distressed” Lando urged the man to leave.

“Why should I listen to you? You want her for the same reasons as me, you might as well share her” He wasn’t listening, just continuing to harass the girl.

“No. I am asking you to leave out of her life completely because she is my girlfriend, not some sex whore, the love of my life and as her boyfriend it is my duty to love and protect her from people like you”

It was when the man started to laugh that Lando pulled forward, colliding his fist with the man’s sickening face.

“Right, I don’t like the way you are talking and laughing about my girlfriend like she is a fucking object! So do us all a fucking favour, fuck off out of her life and my life too!”

It wasn’t long before the older man started to practically run off with his tail between his legs back to the apartment building exit.

Once until he was long out of Lando’s sight when he turned to face Y/n, who had a frightened and bewildered facial expression.

“It’s okay he’s gone..” Pulling her into his chest, Lando let her calm down in his arms, listening to his heartbeat through his thin cotton t-shirt.

-

After an hour of sitting on the couch watching Y/n’s comfort film, she turned to Lando who was sat close by her.

“You know you didn’t have to do that…I mean I totally appreciate it a lot but I don’t want you to burden yourself with my problems…” Along with being a golden girl, Y/n struggled to let people help her with her issues.

This didn’t surprise Lando, he knew it wouldn’t be long for her to apologise for no reason. “I’m going to stop you right there.” Taking a quick deep breath, Lando looked over at the shameful look in her eyes. “I did that because you are the love of my life…I am here to protect you. You are the sweetest, most pure and giving girl, I know…I love you Y/n”

That shameful look in Y/n’s eyes soon turned into confusion. “Lando, we’re um we’re alone…you know we don’t have to act like this..”

“I’m not acting, what I just said is the truth” Before Y/n could reply to his comment, Lando pulled their faces together colliding their lips.

Y/n’s lips were soft on his, he could taste her strawberry lip balm. It felt like fireworks were going off behind Y/n.

Pulling back, a small smile made its way onto her lips. “I think I love you too” Y/n’s voice quiet but sure.

“Well that’s good to hear, Darling”

-

It was true, McLaren’s golden girl had fixed their bad boys image and reputation. He was happy to be with her whilst she lost her track of time with her head in a book.

He was happy to indulge in her healthy and easygoing lifestyle and personality. All because he loved her, just for herself.

He was grateful for the early nights and slow bittersweet mornings. Grateful for her.

-

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 10 (Part 2 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

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

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

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

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; depression; feelings of stress and anxiety; feelings of sadness; abandonment issues; allusions to a dark, forgotten childhood; arguing; heart issues addressed (POTs); use of heart monitors; revisited, vivid memories of sex; jealousy; body changes as a result of pregnancy; suuuuper sore boobs; negative self-talk (stretch marks specifically); talk of baby + pregnancy; pregnancy hormones...things get heatedddd; reader and jake are both stubborn + turned on, but can't be together and it's TOUGH; cheating; heavy petting; rubbing of bodies against each other (see: dry humping); hands on boobs oopsies (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 16.7k+

a/n: hi babes… <3 this is my personal favorite part out of the two… so, let me know how you feel… ;) love u all. busy day! i'm so sorry it's late. plz know i love you all sm <3

s/o to @joshym who is my favorite and the most wonderful encourager and sister in the entire universe. i love you more than i can say. you make life sunny and everything better <3

also, @alwaysonthemend, i love you so incredibly much and i’m so grateful for you and your unwavering support and texts that never fail to make my day <3

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

Covet Masterlist

-🌼🌼🌼-

“The covetous man pines in plenty, like Tantalus up to the chin in water, and yet thirsty.”

-Thomas Adams

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 25, 2022

Friendsgiving. A standing, solid tradition since the first Thanksgiving you’d spent as Josh’s friend. It had always been you, Elsie, Josh, Sam, and Daniel.

But this year, you’d be entertaining new people. One you were incredibly grateful for. Jake. And one you weren’t even slightly sure about.

Maya.

She was the last person you wanted to celebrate a holiday all about Thankfulness with. But, you had to. Stupid ass shit that you couldn’t control, so you had to just pretend to be fine with it. 

To your benefit, you had a distraction – a fantastic, welcome one in Elsie. Elsie and a morning of grocery shopping.

For Friendsgiving, in a group chat between you two and the rest of the boys, Elsie had insisted that you two be in charge of pies. So, you two were currently wandering the aisles of Walmart with Pinterest up, recipes open to several flavors of pies that Elsie had decided the two of you should make.

And the way to make homemade crust since she refused to use store bought. 

“It will be a fun thing to try,” she’d sworn, aggressively pinning a couple to your shared board.

You were the one in charge of grabbing things off the shelves, while she pushed the cart and bossed at you what to grab for each recipe. The makings for apple pie and pumpkin pie already rumbled around in the cart. So, now you were on to the final pies and their ingredients. The few cans of cherry pie filling had just landed in the cart when Elsie decided to confront you about Jake. 

“What’s going on between you and Lover Boy?” She asked, trying to sound absentminded in her question, but you knew she was not thinking of it randomly. She’d most definitely waited for a moment to hit you with the question when you were forced to respond. 

And, you were. You were currently completely stranded at a Walmart with only her and one car to get you back to the apartment. There was no escaping the question. So, you decided to do what you could and only answer halfway.

“Well, he knows,” you started, grabbing a bag of sugar off the shelf, avoiding her eyes. “And things are going good.”

“What a vague response,” she hummed. “Why don’t you grab a couple cans of blueberry filling and hit me with full honesty.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the can and turned to face her. A blush painted your cheeks that you couldn’t avoid. “I am being honest. He knows and things are good.”

“Yeah, that answer works for a random Joe, but not your sister. I’m not here for the fucking cliff notes.”

“I don’t care what you’re ‘here for’, Elsie,” you grumbled, turning to walk ahead of her toward the flour. “And why didn’t you ask me this yesterday when we had the entire day at Grandma and Grandpa’s?”

“It didn’t really feel like the right time to ask,” she defended, pointing to a particular bag of flour, which you grabbed and put in the cart. “I also didn’t want to stop talking about the ridiculous fangirl experience because that shit was hilarious,” she paused, gasping. “Oh! Speaking of fangirls and the other guys. . . When are you planning on telling Josh? I'm dying to start planning a baby shower and I want him to help me.”

“He didn’t tell you that I told him before my first–?”

“You told him?!” She asked, astonished. The cart squeaked to a halt behind you. 

Turning around with a laugh ready at your lips, you gawked at her. “What is wrong with you, Dramatic Ass?”

“Um,” she sharply started, hand on a hip. “My sister and my boyfriend are keeping me in the dark, that’s what’s wrong.”

“Josh is busy and I’m busy,” you responded slowly. “We’re not 'keeping you in the dark'. Also, he just found out a few weeks ago. It’s not like he’s known for–.”

“A few weeks?!”

You swiveled fully around to face her completely. “Els. Josh has never been one to talk about other people and their lives to shoot the breeze. You know this. He wasn’t going to bring it up if it didn’t concern him.”

“Well, it does. It concerns both of us. Aunt and uncle? Hello?”

“It’s also just a giant ass thing that I’m sure he’s still processing,” you argued. “Give him a fucking break.”

“I’m bringing this up to him,” she stubbornly stated, huffing and everything. “I’m going to make him own up to not telling me he knew.”

“You knew and didn’t tell him,” you reminded her. 

“That’s different; you didn’t want me to tell him.”

“And what if he thought I didn’t want you guys talking about it at all? He’s very sensitive to stuff of that nature.”

“I don’t know. I’m still asking him,” she firmly stated, continuing to push the cart forward, effectively ending the conversation with her tone. 

And, much to your joy, dropping the other part of the conversation as she went on a sassy rant about something Josh had done recently that pissed her off. 

It lasted all the way home and you were damn happy. . .

Although, you did have to work a little magic to get her to stop being such an over-thinker and asshole when it came to Josh. You had to give a plentiful amount of examples as to how he was all of these amazing things wrapped in one and not the person her mind was trying to convince her that he was. 

She had trauma and abandonment issues, too. . . she just didn't always show them like you.

But. . . it made you pause. Made you think of yourself and Jake. . . . your mind went to the clouds as you thought of your feelings towards him. You were still like this as you helped her carry in groceries, and only snapped out of it when she started bossing you again. Except this time, she was annoyingly giving you jobs around the kitchen to prepare the blessed pies.

-🌼🌼🌼-  

Jake had been the main chef for Friendsgiving.

All day, the apartment smelled heavenly thanks to his wondrous cooking. He'd started way early in the morning, and had awoken you with the incredible smells. . . but you had forced yourself to lay in bed rather than going about your morning routine. Truthfully, you really hadn't had to force yourself too much as you heard Maya's voice make unwelcome waves around the apartment through your door. You weren't in the mood for any of it this morning considering last night. Last night, when you'd seen him and Maya. . . . . Yeah, you'd still been in the process of blocking that the fuck out.

So, you'd only caught a little glimpse of him buzzing around the kitchen before Elsie and Josh had shown up. At which point, Elsie had been ready to hit Wally World.

But, now that you were back, you'd noticed that he'd taken charge of a few very important tasks. He'd roasted a giant turkey in the oven, made rolls and mashed potatoes from scratch, and a delicious gravy to accompany all of his dishes. Josh had been in charge of casseroles, and the other two hooligan men had been in charge of drinks and salad (a big bag of lettuce from Walmart with a bottle of Ranch and a plastic container of cherry tomatoes). 

Maya had been in charge of nothing, claiming via Jake that she would be helping him. But all day long, she’d just sat around, looking way too stupidly pretty, and watched him cook. Lazy ass. 

While you and Elsie slaved away at dessert, thankfully Jake was done with his preparations (save for the turkey that still cooked and created the most appetizing aroma). Meaning that Maya had followed him and wasn’t looming in the background as you made pie.

Which was good because you really did not need her around you any more than she had to be.

As you made pie after pie and sat them on top of the oven to go in once the turkey came out, you filled Elsie in on everything else that had taken place in your life as of late. Told her about the emergency room visit and everything you’d found out at the E.R.; how you’d come up with a solid morning routine to attempt a healthier pregnancy; and any intricate therapy detail that came to mind. 

The boys had been sitting in the living room, playing music on a few guitars (Josh, filling up the apartment with old Elvis tunes). Then, opting to talk for the majority of the time.

So, you'd been able to gain precious time with your sister. She had encouraged you and supported you just like you knew she would. She’d also gotten onto you for not taking better care of yourself and not taking prenatal vitamins sooner.

“You fucking idiot,” she laughed, bumping your shoulder with hers as she passed you in the kitchen with the last pie. “No, but really. I’m sorry that you’d been so stressed and overwhelmed to the point of forgetting to do shit like that. I wish I’d lived closer to you for the beginning of it all.”

Your ears perked up at that. “Yeah. . . Me too,” you said slyly, considering options as they filtered through your head. “What would it take for you to move closer? I don’t want to be selfish, I just don’t want to do this without you.” 

But, after the words came out  of your mouth, you heard just how selfish they sounded. Though, thinking about her being with you for the baby had been something at the back of your mind that you’d been contemplating for weeks. It didn’t mean you needed to drop that fucking bomb on her though. . . The baby wasn’t her thoughtless decision that she needed to change her life for. . . It wasn’t fair to her. 

“I’m sorry, Els,” you slapped a hand to your forehead, shutting your eyes to avoid any further self-induced embarrassment. “I didn’t even think about that before it slipped out. You don’t have to change any—.”

“Well,” she started, coming close to you and removing your hand from your head. As she held your hand in hers, she continued speaking. You opened your eyes to her. “That was actually my thing that I was waiting to tell you. . .,” she paused, trailing off. A slow smile lit up her features as her eyes brightened. “I put in a request for an office job attached to the company I work through. An office job for a branch of the company - based here in New York. . . Told them I didn’t want to travel any longer and that I’d appreciate something steadier as life changes. . .”

Your ears filled with excited static. “What?!” You gasped, eyes lifting with hope. “What did they say?!” 

“Well, a few people talked to a few people, and the director of the program I’m in gave his permission and then recommendation to that part of the company,” she rushed out. “So, in a few months, I’ll finish out my contract for this job and be living here full time for the new one.”

There was almost no time between the moment she’d said the words and the moment you’d leapt from your spot in the kitchen to give her the tightest hug you could muster. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Jake’s POV

She looked fucking gorgeous today. Everyday, in fact. But for the past couple of days, all I could think about was how thankful I was to have her in my life. Tis the season. No matter what, I was very thankful for her. . . For so many reasons. 

Though, the most prominent reason in my mind at the moment was how thankful I was to her for carrying our baby. So selfless and motherly and lovely. . .

So, I couldn’t help stealing repeated glances at her. I just hoped I wasn’t being too obvious. She was always beautiful, stunning—actual perfection walking—but the fact that our baby was in her belly just made matters much worse for me. She glowed in a way that she never had before. . . Drew my eye to her in a way that couldn’t be stopped.

It was wrong for me to look at her like this. I was in a serious relationship with someone else. . . I definitely shouldn’t have been eyeing her the way I was through the open layout, into the kitchen from my spot in the armchair. And especially not while I had my arm wrapped around my extremely hot girlfriend, and her nice fuckin' ass sitting halfway on my lap.

And, really. . . y/n had effectively broken—no, shattered—my heart all of those months ago in the kitchen. She shouldn't have drawn my eye to her the way she did after what she'd said. But, I really couldn't hold that against her any longer. It didn't matter as much as it once had. . . not anymore.

But, we weren’t meant to be. Honestly, I wasn't sure if I wanted us to be. . . It seemed too difficult for the two of us to manage. And, I had Maya. . . Mayamayamaya.

I would've been lying, though, if I said she wasn’t the most incredibly created human being. She was sculpted by the gods. . . Meticulously made to ruin me. When she really shouldn't. Fuck.

And now that she held my baby. . . The way her tummy rounded out more than usual, under her sweater—that shit left me completely speechless.

The way she held pregnancy was unparalleled to every other woman that had ever done it before. She was ethereal. And as great as Maya's ass was, there was truly no comparing it to the way y/n's ass looked in those leggings I’d seen her wear no less than a million times before. . . And just like every time before, I wanted to walk up behind her and feel the curve of it. Rip them the fuck down and bend her - dammit. I was so fuckin’ weak for her.

But anytime I felt Maya move against my arm, or lap, or smelled her perfume wave off of her with an action, I was reminded of how completely wrong it was for me to be checking y/n out. It was wrong how I couldn’t get her out of my head—all the time, she was there. Even in the most intimate moments with Maya, she kept creeping the fuck into my thoughts. 

But, truly, it just happened. Couldn't control it.

And, even when I got up to check on the turkey once more, I couldn’t help my reaction when I passed her. When I'd accidentally brushed past her on her way out, the way my heart pounded in my chest as our bodies touched for a millisecond. She smelled so sweet—just like a damned sugar cookie. And the way she’d passed so delicately against me. Her top half had pressed against me for a stolen moment in time, her eyes catching mine as her precious bump skimmed my waist.

And her breasts. Felt those, too.

My chest tightened and my dick twitched—it was almost too much. The air was stolen from my lungs. 

We were so close for those few seconds.

“Sorry,” she hushed, her eyes flicking up to look at me. A small smile was sitting on her lips, more out of embarrassment than anything. Her cheeks were the prettiest pink under my gaze.

But she wasn’t the one to be embarrassed. I was the only one who should have been embarrassed — for how I was instantly a teenage boy again, just because of a little brush from her body. 

“Don’t be,” I mouthed, like we were sharing a secret. My lips lifted to reassure her and my eyes lit up with an emotion I couldn’t explain if I tried. 

Her face softened at my expression, and then she was gone. 

And once I’d gotten the turkey out of the oven, I was mostly back to normal. I’d forced myself to think about sad images of roadkill enough to ruin the mood I’d set in my head. 

After breathing a few deep breaths, I called out that dinner was ready and all I could do was hope for the best for the rest of the day. 

End of Jake’s POV

-🌼🌼🌼-

Thanksgiving carried on from when lunch started at two in the afternoon, to the evening, and saw your friend group (and Maya) sitting around the living room.

You were all bouncing back and forth with the Roku remote. Rotating around your semi-circle, every person took a turn choosing a YouTube video to cast.

It had turned into a sort of game of who could play a song that meant something to someone else in the room. Jake had just had the remote, right before Elsie, and had played a song for Josh. It had been some song from Seussical The Musical, to which Josh had sung along to every word. He’d even gone so far as to get up to do a little performance of the song. 

“That’s exactly how it went,” Josh had chuckled heartily, the sound starting deep and lilting at the end. He dropped his arms from an obviously rehearsed dance routine, the song ending on a final high note. “I swear to God.”

“Oh, Joshua,” Sam’s eyes bugged as he looked at Jake with a laugh, who shared the moment of humor with him. “Trust me. We remember. Every single high school theatre production,” Sammy shook, as if reliving a traumatic memory. "All of it is seared into my poor, poor brain."

"Samuel, shut the fuck-," Josh started, before getting interrupted by his twin.

“Day in and day fucking out, Josh. That’s how often we heard those songs at home— for the months leading up to that damn musical,” Jake raised a thick brow. It made your tummy do somersaults - he was so handsome. “And I was lucky enough to hear it from backstage as crew. . . Every single rehearsal.”

“Yeah, you really fucking hated those songs,” Josh noted with a bubbling laugh, sitting back down next to Elsie, his arm falling around her shoulders. “Why would you make yourself suffer through that again?”

“Just playing the game,” Jake shrugged, rolling his eyes with a smile. He handed the remote over to Elsie, who sat on the couch, next to where he sat on the floor, in front of the couch. “But goddamn if I don’t ever hear it again, it will still be too soon.”

Sam agreed with a toast, raising his beer bottle as Jake lifted his. They nodded at each other from across the room. And you stared on, getting distracted by the woman who sat on the couch, criss-cross-applesauce, behind him, braiding his hair. 

Fuck that bitch, you thought hotly— ridiculously.

Admittedly, it took too far too long to look away from her pop-up salon. But you eventually did, and watched the screen as Elsie started typing something into the search bar. 

You knew better than to feel jealous of her. But, you couldn’t help eyeing her from your place, as you snuggled into the armchair with your favorite fluffy blanket covering you. Just wanted to let the chair swallow you, so you nestled deeper and closed your eyes to imagine it.

“This is one of y/n’s favorites,” Elsie said, the pre-video ad starting on the television. “The first time she watched this, her life changed. The perfect mix of her love for classic rock and soul music.”

Instantly, you knew exactly which song she was talking about. And when the video started, your heart expanded in your chest, making everything feel fuzzy and light. Everything felt okay. 

Change the World. . . . the Unplugged version. Eric Clapton and Babyface. . . . so many memories.

“This is our childhood,” you said, voice thick with emotion. The amount of tears you cried on a weekly basis was nothing short of humiliating. The baby hormones were vicious in their attack.

“I can’t tell you how many times we heard this as kids,” Elsie affirmed, looking over at Josh. 

“Grandpa is a strangely huge fan of Babyface,” you giggled, throat loosening a little as the laughter bubbled from your chest. “This Unplugged vinyl played on a loop for a period of time.”

“It was that year we bought it for him for Christmas,” Elsie added, agreeing. She was watching the screen with tears in her eyes, too. “But you ended up loving it so much,” she looked over to where you sat. “That the next Christmas you got your own vinyl of it. From yours truly. You're welcome." She winked, blowing a little kiss your way.

“I do take partial blame for the constant looping on the living room record player,” you smiled, winking at her. 

She winked back. “Yeah, you and Grandpa had equal hand in his Unplugged record warping on this song.”

You grinned, sticking your tongue out at her as she did the same. When Eric Clapton started singing, you gave the screen your full attention. The sound of this song only brought back the happiest memories. Even before hearing Babyface’s cover, it was a family favorite. It was a song that made you feel whole. 

It was the one song your Grandpa loved to sing to you. . . Before this version had ever come to your family’s attention. He'd sing it in those soft moments that felt like glowing rays of sun hitting your skin on a hazy summer evening.

But when your Grandpa had heard the Unplugged cover on the radio, the Earth had shifted for him. . . And even though it didn’t top your Grandpa singing it, the cover featuring Clapton held a special place in your heart with how often you’d heard it bouncing off the walls of the living room. It played so often that you associated it with some of your best days. . .

You'd still been innocent enough, still, to enjoy the world through a rose-tinted lens. And, far enough away from the trauma with your Mom that life had felt new. Ironically, the cover of the song had come around when your world was finally feeling like it had changed. It had been an intricately timed re-release of the lullaby your Grandfather had once poured over you as you’d drift to sleep on both restful and restless nights. The song felt safe – sort of like your Grandmother’s cooking felt for you. 

“You know, it’s funny,” Josh’s voice cut through your drifting thoughts. You kept watching the two men on screen, but tuned in to your best friend’s dialogue. “Jake loved this version, too. When YouTube came around, he would watch this version back to back, trying to memorize the way Babyface and Eric complimented each other on their guitars. He always wanted–.”

“To play both parts and record them on top of each other," Jake finished, watching the screen intently. You’d let your eyes wander from the screen momentarily to see his expression after hearing Josh’s story. He still looked utterly invested; just like you imagined he had looked as a kid re-watching it over and over again on YouTube. “It’s not really an intricate piece. . . I just found it at a time when I wanted to try everything I could on guitar. I knew how to play better than most 14 year olds, yes, but I still didn’t know half as much as I do now,” he explained, never looking away from the musicians. 

You saw movement at his waist, and when you looked down to observe, he seemed to be playing a guitar part in the air. And you knew if he picked up the instrument right now, he’d match one of the men in time. Whichever one he was currently studying - you couldn’t tell. 

“I don’t know why I never recorded myself playing both parts. Synced them over each other,” Jake mused, still playing in the air. “I used Garage Band like it was an addictive fucking drug–.”

“You can say that again,” Sam inserted, acting annoyed but still grinning so wide all the same. 

“But I just forgot about it, I guess,” the older, long-haired brother continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “I’m getting the urge to do it again now – it’s coming back strong,” he chuckled, looking down at his fingers with a brow raised–just like he’d do if he was actually playing. 

It was fucking hot to watch him play so intently with nothing there to support him. Only his mind, full of the memorized chords from years ago. And to a song that meant so much to you. 

“I’m sure the guys at the studio would let you do it with their recording equipment,” Danny offered, also watching the famed musicians with intrigue, glancing over at Jake. 

Jake sucked in a breath, dropping his air guitar before leaning back against Maya, closing his eyes and sighing with one particular scratch of her nails against his scalp as she tugged out the french braid to start another.

Gag. You could vomit at the sight of their mushy-gushy behavior.

Your hand floated to your stomach to remind yourself of one thing you had that she didn’t. 

“Nah,” Jake sighed, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling. “I feel like it has to be done without the expensive stuff. It has to be recorded in a way that baby Jake would have recorded it. . . I just–,” He wrinkled a brow, releasing a grumble under his breath.

There was something he was concerned about. . .

And, as he sat back up to watch the men finish out the song, Maya made a little huffing noise, crossing her arms over her impressive chest. But, in all of her perfection, she covered the noise with a small smile and a shake of her head. Just seemed to be joking with her little bratty act.

Oh, how cute and funny.

She’d looked over at Sammy, who’d made a little sound at Jake’s words. You followed the line of sight.

“What’s the deal, brother?” Sammy questioned, leaning forward to emphasize his care for Jake. 

“I just don’t have the time to do a little side project like that–can’t even think about prioritizing it,” he replied, combing a hand through his hair, untangling anything that resembled a braid. Maya did outwardly pout at that. She whined his name and said something about her hard work. You couldn’t help the tiny smirk that lifted your lips at the scene. You tried your best to hide it, and just focused on the screen again. “And even calling it a project sounds silly with everything else going on in life right now.”

Before you could feel too guilty for the situation under your palm that added to everything going on in his life, Josh spoke up with a giant gasp.  

“Baby Jake!” The curly-headed twin exclaimed. You all looked in his direction, equally confused with knitted brows. “That’s just it; record it like you would have back then with the intention that it’s for your baby. Something fun to do. But. . . You’ll prioritize the time if it’s for the baby. If you look at it that way, it won’t seem silly at all," he wiped his palms, arm back over Elsie as he finished with jazz hands. "Ta-da!"

As the song concluded and the next ad started (an ad for baby diapers, of all things), Maya was urgently pushing Jake out of the way, claiming she needed to pee. And as she passed between your line of sight and Jake’s, you realized you were zoning out on him when your eyes met his, just as she rounded the couch. 

He gave you a small smile, his eyes staying on yours, floating down to where your belly hid under your blanket, and then back to your face when he responded to Josh’s idea. 

“Yeah, that sounds like a good plan, Josh,” he said, gaze never once leaving yours. 

The fire that rose from the pit of your tummy, all the way to your cheeks was not a new feeling with Jake, but for some reason. . . this time, it felt unlike any time ever before. 

-🌼🌼🌼- 

Everyone had stayed, having decided to lounge on couches for the night to sleep. They were all in equally deep slumbers (save for Maya, most likely still completely awake and waiting for Jake in his bed). 

You’d all stayed up until the wee hours of the morning–much later than you had in a long time. The only way you’d been able to make it, the tiny cat naps you’d dozed in and out of. As you’d done that, everyone else had continued on with their little YouTube game. 

Now, here you were, completely exhausted, practically dragging yourself to bed, ready to sleep. Just barely managed to wash your face before Jake had hopped into the bathroom, right after you, to brush his teeth.

But before you could make it inside your room, he passed by behind you. You weren’t even looking. You’d just smelled his heavenly cologne, a favorite scent of yours (and the baby’s, apparently) flood the space around you. You knew he wasn’t actually drenched in the smell of sandalwood and vanilla, but your baby-powered-super-senses could’ve convinced you otherwise. He smelled delicious and you could easily drown in him. 

Though, instead of focusing on that, you let yourself act on something that was threatening to leave your lips. No matter how hard you tried to stop it, your tired brain wouldn’t let the words halt. 

“Please don’t stop pursuing your dream or any other thing just because of everything that’s happening with me and the baby,” you rushed out, peeking up through your lashes for a moment before locking eyes with your hand on the knob of your door. “I don’t want you to ever feel like this is taking up too much space in your life or causing any unnecessary stress. You can back out whenever you want if you feel like that’s what you need and I won’t be upset with you for—.”

“No,” Jake responded, soft and stern, moving to stand in front of you. You had no choice but to look up at him, he was standing so close to you. His eyes bore into yours. “I’m not going to back out. I couldn’t do that–wouldn’t ever do that. I want this. I promise. It’s everything else, I think, that’s stressful. The baby is something I get to look forward to,” he reassured, his voice wavering just enough to worry you. 

But you didn’t let it get to you. Tiredness prevailed above any doubtful emotion you could’ve mustered. You could only sleepily nod your head at his words. 

“The baby inspires me even more to make it all happen,” he rasped in a velvety tone, assuring you. After, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. Your sleepy eyes slowly followed the motion. You wished it was you. “Everything else is still exciting, too. . . But it’s a lot and it gets me thinking about how different everything is about to be. It’s scary. But– it’s. . . the baby makes it all seem brighter. Better. I’m not just doing it for me anymore. Not even for my brothers. It’s for my baby,” his full lips spread into a loose, close-mouthed grin. “Our baby.”

Your tummy flip-flopped and all you wanted to do at that moment was kiss him. You felt the slightest inkling that he wanted the same, with the way he’d brought his body in front of you, closer than he needed to. But. . . you blamed it all on tiredness. There was no way you could trust yourself to make actual, coherent assumptions. You were getting carried away, and even though you wondered of the possibility that he could want it, you cut off the idea. 

Tired or not, you knew one thing. He didn’t want you. He had a girlfriend. A real relationship with a woman much more beautiful than you. So, before you could get trapped in his big, beautiful brown eyes any longer, you decided to bid him goodnight. 

Though, just as you’d opened your door to go into your room, he stopped you. “Hey, real quick,” he cleared his throat. You looked up at him, confused at the sudden stop. “Maya–um,” he shook his head, brows furrowed as he messed with his bottom lip. “She told me that she wanted me to help however I possibly could. She wants me to be attentive and helpful in any way I can be.” 

He was right there - a step away. His breath, fanning over your face. You could smell the mint of his toothpaste. “Obviously with limits,” his voice lowered a bit as his eyes peered down at you. 

What was that supposed to mean? Surely he didn’t mean. . . But, you responded the only way you could think to.

“Obviously. . .,” you trailed off, raising a brow out of complete confusion for the conversation’s direction. “I wouldn’t want you to cross any sort of boundary. You’re in a relationship with her. Not me.” 

“Yeah. She’s my girlfriend,” he replied, voice rasping on a hitched breath. His body felt as though it was wrapped around yours in an act of protection. He’d brought his hand up, above your heads, as his body curved in towards you. After a pause, he continued. “But I don’t want to make any boundaries with the baby ever. Not at all. I want to be present. From now until always.” 

Suddenly, the moment was gone for you. There was no way he’d ever meant it as anything more. All he’d meant was you needed to remember there were boundaries. This was all about the baby. It was selfish to ever think any different. 

You knew better than to believe any different than that. Your thoughts got out of hand so damn easily these days. Why did you let them wander so far when you fucking knew better?

You backed up, your back touching the doorframe behind you. He scrunched his brows, but you weren’t sure why he was acting confused. It was late. You were definitely imagining things. He was just tired, too. . . that was all. 

“So. . .,” he cleared his throat. “Just let me know however I can help with the baby. Please.” 

“Okay,” you whispered with a quiet nod of your head.

“Okay,” he muttered with a gentle, distant grin. He nodded his head as well. And right before he opened the door to his room, his words barely touched the air as he told you goodnight. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 28, 2022

Covid. Gia had Covid.

Your heart broke for her having to deal with that absolutely terrible illness. And your nerves were climbing up the wall at not being able to see her. She wasn’t so bad that you couldn’t email her if you had questions or needed advice. But, you also knew better than to bother someone who was sick with something like Covid. 

So, you were spending the time that you would have been gearing up to go to Gia’s office, on this chilly autumn day, pacing back and forth in your living room. Cuticles thin from chewing and perspiration accumulated at your hairline and under your arms, you weren’t sure what to do. 

The idea of losing time on healing before the baby arrived was stressful to say the very least. You didn’t want to be any less of a mother than your baby deserved. He or she deserved a mentally stable mom. . . and in order to get there, you required several hours on Gia’s couch. 

All that could wave through your one-track mind was how terrible you felt for being so stressed about your healing while Gia was so sick. She was the one who needed to get healthy sooner rather than later.

You tried to remember the words Gia had put at the tail end of the email she had sent. She’d put in a few words that reminded you how well she knew you.

Don’t stress too much about the session being cancelled. :) Things happen and we have plenty of time, y/n.

Those words, typed specifically to assure you. Except, you’d worked yourself up too much for it to work very well after you’d read the title line of her email. Just a few, simple words: Out Sick – Sorry!

If even Gia’s words weren’t helping to calm your nerves, you weren’t sure how you were going to make it through to the next appointment.

After an hour of feeling unsure about literally everything, you decided the only way you were going to make it was by doing some other form of self care. And the first thing that came to your mind was food. Food always sounded good these days (nausea taking a backseat thanks to your meds and second trimester), and it would help you feel better while also supporting the baby’s health in the womb.

But it took you no time to get sad because you didn’t know what kind of food you wanted. . .

You’d resolved to just not being able to win at life for the day when you heard the front door jingle on the other side with the sound of a key unlocking. 

Jake was home. Fuck. He was home to take you to therapy and you hadn’t even thought to text him and tell him– shit. Instead of doing what he would have rather been doing, he’d made a useless trip home. 

It didn’t take him long at all to notice you sulking next to the window, face-palming next to the it, where you’d been people watching minutes ago, from your vantage point a few stories up. 

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, concerned, as he came right up beside you. “What’s going on?”

Whenever you looked up from having your eyes pressed into your hand, you refocused your eyes on his worried ones. “I don’t have counseling today,” you sullenly stated. And rather than going into any more details, you just apologized. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. There was no point in you coming home.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he calmly reassured. Again, you found his line of sight. His eyes felt like the sweetest reassurance. “You look like you could use someone to talk to.”

“Don’t waste your time on me,” you waved him off, scrunching your brows in an effort to seem nonchalant. “Just go back to doing what you were doing.”

“Well, I don’t have any plans because I was planning on being with you all night,” he laughed just a bit, under his breath. He flicked at the tip of his nose with a pointer finger. 

“All night?” Your stomach swirled at the thought, but you also felt incredible guilt at stealing that time from him. “God, I’m so sorry, Jake.”

“Please don’t be.” It was his turn to wave you off while shaking his head. He swept a hand through his hair. “I’m glad I was here– glad that I am here.”

You didn’t really know what to say. There wasn’t anything you two could do that wouldn’t get completely awkward after a while. Right? It was only four o’clock and he planned on spending the rest of the evening with you? What were you going to–?

“What do you want to do?” He asked, adjusting his jacket over his shoulders. “Wanna stay here? Order in? Go out and do something?”

Going out sounded like a date. . . and that felt wrong to do. But you also absolutely despised the idea of staying inside of the apartment to wallow for a second longer. . . . 

And it didn’t take you very long to realize you were still wanting food, hunger starting to feel like empty weight in your rounded tummy. 

“Food?”

“Food,” he agreed with a grin, winking at you before turning around, effectively making your brain turn to complete mush as you grabbed your own jacket and followed him out the door. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

The night was one of the best you’d had in a while.

He’d taken you to get Panera. Weird, yes, but their tomato basil soup had been calling your name the second it’d come to mind, as you'd searched places to eat.

And after sitting across from each other and just talking about his budding career and your classes, at Panera Bread. . . he'd told you he wanted to take you somewhere special. And, just as the sun was setting, you’d pulled up to a Barnes & Noble on your side of Brooklyn.

“Tell me why you’re stressed,” he’d said, putting his car in park.

A used, four-door (hard top, thankfully) Jeep. An all-black, mid-thousands model. After riding around in it all evening, you’d noticed it rode really well. It was just slightly strange that he had a car. He hadn’t had one when you’d been. . .

You cleared your throat, back on the subject at hand. “I never said I was stressed,” you stated, feeling ready to combat the truth. For whatever stupid reason. 

“You didn’t have to say it,” he breathed deeply through his nose, turning down the classic rock station he’d been playing. “I know you.”

Deciding it wasn’t worth a debate (because it was the truth–you had been very stressed earlier), you sighed; running a hand through your loose, natural waves, you responded. “Well, I’m just. . . this therapy is for me, yes, sure. But it really is mostly for the baby,” you explained. He sighed and you placed the hand you’d combed through your hair on your rounded bump, covered by your favorite oversized sweatshirt. “And having one session lost that I can’t be working on getting healed for the baby stressed me the fuck out. Still kind of is,” you admitted, glancing out of the small, rectangular windshield. “I just want to be completely better by the time the baby is here.”

“What are you most worried about?” He softly pondered, prompting you to talk through it. 

“That I’ll be just like my mom and project my hurt onto my baby,” you said wetly, swallowing the thickness in your throat. “I have so much in me that I don’t understand and it scares me how much I don’t remember – can’t remember,” you blinked to allow the new tear to make its way down your cheek before quickly reaching to wipe it away. “And it scares the shit out of me. It makes me. . . this terrible person to other people. I need to understand all of me, so my baby gets the best parts of me.” Sniffling, you swiped at your cheeks to rid yourself of the few more tears that cascaded down your cheeks. “And I don’t even remember the last time I saw those best parts. . . . so if I can’t see,” you huffed, your eyes finally piercing his, which stayed on you, intently listening “H-how is my child going to see them?”

Jake hummed, rubbed his chin. He never took his deep-set, amber-brown irises from yours. “It’s funny,” he started, a little grin ghosting over his lips as he spoke, “I’m seeing those best parts of you right now. I see those 'best parts of you' quite often.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you unzipped and reached into your belt bag for your heart monitor phone, willing it to not go off. There were butterflies wreaking havoc in your tummy. Naturally, your hands found their way to your tummy. His eyes followed that particular movement.

“How do you–?” You sniffed, shaking your head, zipping your bag back after a moment. “How do you see those things? I haven’t seen them since before you came into my li–- for a long time. And never consistently. . .,” you rambled, eyebrows drawn together, thumbs rubbing circles over the tight bump. “I’ve always been a bit of a wild card with my emotions. And finding out more of what I'd done from Elsie. . . I'm just way too similar to my–.”

“Do you think she was as self aware as you are?”

“I don’t know,” you answered, honestly. You would go with no, but. . . “I don’t know her well enough to make that judgment.”

“Okay,” he nodded, sticking his bottom lip out. A grin found its way to his plush lips, looking so kissable in the cramped space of the car. You leaned further into the door so as to not tempt yourself of anything. He continued, “Well, I would say she probably wasn’t. Or else you wouldn’t be wracked with so much significant trauma. She wouldn’t have left you hanging with so much to deal with. . . she would have been there for you. Helped you because she would've wanted to help herself. Would've been self aware enough for that,” he emphasized. “Parents say stupid shit. They do stupid shit. They’re humans. What matters is how they ultimately react.”

“But I react so brashly, Jake,” you argued, needing to be heard. “What happens if I do that to our–?”

“You won’t. I know you won’t,” he consoled you, his eyes so earnest as he conveyed the words. “You struggle with saying stupid shit. I do, too. So does everyone. You’ll figure out how to handle situations better, but it won’t be as hard as you think,” he shook his head, taking the keys from the ignition. “Not for you. You are determined. And you’re not this monster you’ve made up in your head.”

“Well, –,” you started, interrupting him, only to be cut off. 

“And your best parts are too many to name right now,” he surmised, winking at you once more. You rubbed wider, nervous circles on your tummy. “But one of my favorites is your determination to help others. The way you care for others. And if a mother has those qualities,” he pointed a finger at your tummy, and trailed the finger up to point at your face. “She will be one helluva fantastic mother. I’m glad our baby will have you.”

“Thank you,” you replied after the words had actually cracked the surface of your mental warfare. No voice appeared to combat what he’d said, so you let them sink, all the way down into your brain to truly consider for later. You didn’t fight them. . . which you viewed as progress. “Thank you so much. I–I needed to hear those things. And you were the perfect person to hear them from,” you blushed, crinkling your nose with the words. A smile settled on your lips, eyes drying. “Because I know you’re going to be the best daddy to this baby. I’ve known it for a long time. . . So, it means a lot that you think the same. Seriously.”

“Of course I think so,” he smiled, glancing once more at your tummy. “And the way you're always holding our baby. . . you love her so, so much. You’re already so intentional about loving her.”

“Her?” You asked aloud, wondering why he’d chosen that gender. Your hands held tighter to your tummy at the assumption. “Why girl?”

He hummed, looking out the windshield, past your head, with a wide grin. “It just feels right,” he concluded, before motioning at the windshield, nodding towards it. “Look.”

You did as he said, turning to see a mother and son (presumably) traipsing up to the store, just past the nearest cart corral. The little boy was skipping, and the mother was watching her like the entire world started and stopped with the child. The sky was bluer because he was around. You felt that. 

“The way you’re watching them says enough, honey,” he concurred. There was that nickname again. . . Honey. Your heart skipped a beat at the term. “I see it all over you. You’re going to mess up. Parents do. My parents did a lot and I still think they’ve been the best parents.” When he gave a small, breathy laugh, you looked his way. He rubbed a finger over his bottom lip. “But what good parents do after they mess up is– they have humility and apologize. They show integrity to their child. You do that. Already. For me.”

Sitting across from him in the still air of the Jeep, you let your eyes bounce back and forth between his. His smell, warm, sweet, and woodsy, was enveloping every sense of your body, in the taut air of the vehicle. His breathing laced with yours, your heaving chest kept up with the rhythm of his. He was steadier than you. . . he seemed fine. 

You felt anything but. Your emotions were going haywire at everything he’d just said. The man he was to you. . . he was too good to be true. 

But, instead of letting yourself get sad that he wasn't yours, you looked at the store behind you and cleared your throat. It opened up your mind and the air in the car. He blinked a few times, tilting his head slightly, watching you. 

“Wondering why we’re here?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I thought– let’s get out,” he said, pausing the conversation to unload from the Jeep. You followed his lead, taking the tall step as gracefully as you could to get down and out. The slip almost happened–but didn’t. Thank god. 

Joining him at the back of the car, you waited for him to lead the way and continue. You wrapped your jacket tighter around your body, over the sweatshirt. There was a bite in the air that hadn’t been there before. Jake tightened his jacket, too, tucking his hands in the pockets of it. “I brought us here because I knew you were stressed. I knew it probably had to do with the baby,” he started, looking down at you. You felt his stare, looking up to meet it. “So I thought maybe coming here to get some books to study and prepare would help you feel more at peace about whatever was on your mind,” he drew in a breath before blowing it out into the cold, dry air. “And now that I know it had to do with preparedness, this was kind of–.”

“Perfect,” you finished, nudging him with your shoulder. 

He looked down for a second, his eyes read an unknown emotion before he kept on. “I know you probably have a lot of books already, but–.”

“There’s no such thing as too many,” you replied, leading the way through the automatic doors. 

“Precisely,” he agreed, coming to a stop as soon as the two of you had entered. Raising a brow, he looked down at you before throwing a thumb over to the in-store coffee house. “Want something?”

“You don’t even have to ask,” you responded with a light smile, walking toward the smell of comforting coffee and cakes. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

He’d footed the bill the whole night. . . including the surplus of books from Barnes & Noble. It had been a hefty bill, but he’d refused to let you pay. He had convinced you it was part of co-parenting – sharing purchases. And this was one of his first purchases to make for the baby.

“This was a good idea,” you mentioned at the end of the evening, juggling your one bag of books that you’d insisted Jake let you carry (the lightest one, after compromise) as you led the way up the stairs of your complex. “Focusing on other ways we can prepare for the baby, rather than worrying about what we can’t control.”

“I have a decent idea every now and then,” he chuckled, out of breath as he handled the bulk. 

Once you made it to the door, you unlocked it for the two of you.

And, for a moment, it felt so domestic.

It felt like a dream you shouldn’t dream. Arriving home after a big shopping run, walking through the door together as you laughed at the heaviness of bags and discussed a few of the books you’d chosen.

And as you made your way through the door finally, it broke your heart to see the night go. He wasn’t necessarily acting ready to end it, but the impending ending made your stomach turn. You wanted this for longer. 

He was going on and on about all of the things he’d researched as of late concerning babies and pregnancy and everything in between. You decided on grabbing a Canada Dry from the fridge, letting him sort the books on the counter into categories as he kept conversation easily.

Every now and then, you offered a small response to show you were listening, but otherwise, you let him talk. You loved listening to him talk about all of this. 

It made your heart feel ten times bigger. Though, as you took a sip of your ginger ale, watching him sort the books, your heart began to sink instead. 

You couldn’t help how much you adored his desire to learn about all things ‘baby’. He was already so good at his job as dad.

The way you’d felt all night–so peaceful with him. . . you knew it was good for you. He was literally your mental safe place (you hadn’t told him that though. Absolutely not). But. . . you knew it couldn’t go past the feeling of good friendship. Co-parenthood.

The unfortunate part, though, was that you really felt unable to stop the way you were feeling for him. It felt new and familiar all at once.

Though, you knew you couldn’t let yourself feel that way. You shouldn’t.

But with the way his eyes lit up when you looked up at him again, after staring at your feet in your whirlwind of contemplation, you knew you were doomed. 

There was no stopping the way that you felt about him. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

One morning at the very end of November, you woke up with a cold. A terrible one. The same cold that every other person in your classes was seeming to come down with. Theo had been gone with it all week, and you saw him more frequently than not to study. You’d decided on one or two days a week after class. There were also the few people who sat around you in class, who’d come down with it.

So, it was due time for you. 

Normally, you would have tried to make it through the day. But, you’d done enough reading to learn that coming down with a serious infection like the flu or Covid could lead to a baby’s fetal development getting stunted. So, you played it safe and decided to stay home until you felt better.  

You had called in to work that morning. And just after that, you’d emailed the professor you had that day to let  him know. Everyone you had spoken to was understanding, luckily, which helped you to sleep very peacefully. You only hoped that the extra sleep wasn’t just helpful to you, but also–mostly–to the baby.

Sleeping off the sick seemed the best option. You hadn’t really had the mental energy that morning to look into safe medicine to take for colds during pregnancy. So, sleeping it was.

Your colds were always intense–all of your sicknesses were. When you got sick, it never failed to knock you on your ass. So instead of stressing over it all that morning, you’d chosen sleep as the easier route.

You had been hoping that you’d wake up from a long nap feeling refreshed and better. . .but. . . you were not so lucky.

When your eyes fluttered open for the second time that day to find what was left of the evening sun peeking through your curtains, you officially knew it was time to figure something out. Your eyes were burning–hurt to open. There was an ache settled firmly in every bone in your body–weren’t sure if you were cold or hot. . . 

You were definitely sick. More than a cold. No two ways about it.

When you turned to your bedside table for a drink from your Stanley, you found your bedside table had a couple new additions since you’d fallen asleep. There was a brand new Stanley sitting next to your old one. One you’d eyed for a few minutes online a week or so ago, and then decided against due to the monstrously obnoxious size. . . 

You’d talked to Jake about it after he’d noticed your pensive face looking at your phone screen for longer than necessary. . . And now, there it sat on your white, wooden night stand. A 64 ounce, rose quartz Stanley, in all of its glory. 

And leaning against it and next to it were a concoction of helpful remedies with a couple of sticky notes to explain each of their benefits. The handwriting gave him away. Jake. In his scrawl, he detailed what to take and when, which ones you could take together. He’d even written out the link to a website talking about pregnancy-safe cold meds. There was also a fruit punch Gatorade. When you reached out, it was still cold. He’d been in recently.

Moving on from the drink and meds, you glanced at the Stanley and saw it had a sticky sitting underneath it, waiting to be read. 

Plenty of water will help you and the baby stay healthy. It was worth it 

It had perfect timing and came in the mail today of all days

:) –Jake

The note effectively had your head spinning from something other than sickness. . .his kind gesture, making your stomach do soft flips. Your hand floated to touch your tummy at the idea of him doing so sweet for you (and for the baby–his baby).

After reading his advice on what to take, you went ahead and took some Tylenol for your headache and body aches, then used a nasal spray to help loosen up whatever drainage you could. The Vicks rub he’d left had been a welcome solvent on your chest, temples, and under your nose. 

But, it didn’t take long for your stomach to start rumbling, so you took that as your sign to find something that would ease the scratch in your throat and warm you up. 

You went out to the kitchen for food, holding your brand new Stanley, taking several healthy sips of the iced water from it. When you bent down to pour food in Stevie’s dish, you realized there was already kibble in there. . . that Jake undoubtedly left for her.

You were sure your heart monitor was picking up all kinds of strange palpitations at his gestures. 

Around the time you’d noticed Stevie’s food, you went to text him to tell him thank you. Only to find he’d sent a text about twenty minutes ago saying he’d left for the night. And while it made your heart sink, you knew you had no right to feel sad about it. . . especially when he’d done so much to help you before you’d even woken from your nap. 

To add emphasis to that thought, you noticed at just the right time that he’d also left a couple Panera soups waiting on the counter for you. God. . . he was wonderful. You read the note he’d left with the two little sealed containers.

Soup is the best when you’re sick :) 

–Jake 

Your body was already hurting a little less after you’d heated and almost instantly downed one of the delicious soups. A warm shower sounded more than tempting, so you didn’t waste time throwing away your trash and making your way to grab the shower steamer pods he’d left for you on your bedside table (they were a pregnancy-safe brand, he’d assured on a sticky, which made you softly smile). 

After placing them in the heating shower to begin dissolving the comforting notes of lavender and rose, you padded back to the kitchen for your new Stanley when you noticed something on the counter.

In an arranged group on the counter sat a few books you'd bought the other night. You recognized them. They sat with a notebook, stickies, and pens. Two of the books were closed, stacked, and tabbed with stickies–all bright pinks, greens, and blues.

Though, there was one more, face up and open, as if he’d had to leave unplanned and hadn’t had time to shut it. There was a pad of stickies sitting atop the page it was opened to. A pen was on top of the pad, which, when you walked closer, realized there was plenty of Jake’s scrawl already written on it. The page had a heading that read:

Props and pillows and sleep, oh my! 

And he’d written the following on his sticky, which lay upon the page: 

–Look into pregnancy pillows for y/n

–Be patient!! 

–Do what you can to help her find the right set up for sleep or rest 

–Adhere to her sleep schedules (no loud sounds or bright lights when she’s asleep, etc) 

–She needs sufficient rest (has healthy outcomes for her and the baby)

You went to look at the cover of the book, but before you could look at it, you stopped yourself. For some reason, it felt like an invasion of his privacy. Even though he’d left it open on the counter, these were his notes, not yours.

But just before you could walk any further to the bathroom and ignore his notes, the book stacked on top of the other had a note stuck to the top of it. And, written in bold, black sharpie, were the words Remember: Do WHATEVER you can to help y/n – it’s for the BABY!

The words it’s for the baby being written with finality at the end of the statement reminded you that chances were, all of this was not really for you. . . definitely not. You didn’t deserve that from him. No, whatever was for you was done for the ultimate benefit of the baby.

All of everything he did was for the baby. All of the words of reassurance. The trip to the bookstore. Panera. The meds tonight. Taking you to counseling. . . ev-ery-thing.

And that was fine. . .

So why was a tear drawn to your eye as you sped away from the book that sat on top of the counter? And why had you felt the need to go back to your room on the way to the shower, to get the Stanley cup you’d bought yourself? Why did the thought of using the one Jake bought for you make your stomach feel all tangled and weird?

Because he doesn’t care about you, a voice nagged, reminding you. It was a familiar voice, filtering in from the dark tresses of your mind. He doesn’t care about you. This is for the baby. So if you feel like it’s for you, know it’s not. Let him help the baby. Don’t be selfish. The baby matters most. 

You couldn’t help but agree with the voice. The baby did matter most. Not you.

So, you resolutely chose to wait out the calming scent of the steamer, until it all pooled down the drain. Stepping in when the scent was gone seemed the only option, as the way the shower calmed you was only for your benefit and not necessarily the baby’s. 

Yes, it sounded fucked up and foolish in your head. But you were trying to navigate these thoughts the best you fucking could and you were grasping for something that made sense. But all you were doing was making no sense. 

God, what the fuck, y/n?

And, stupidly, for whatever fucking selfish reason (because you knew for sure you were selfish–evidence proved that), you found yourself hiccuping on tears that hurt your already-aching body, under the lukewarm spray of the shower.

He didn't truly care about you. Not really. It was all for the baby.

-🌼🌼🌼- 

Once your mind was lucid after your little cold-sickness stint, you noticed stretch marks had started showing up. One by one, they’d started becoming stark and apparent and made you feel gross. 

The creams and oils you’d ordered seemed to help the slightest bit with the new darkness of the few tiger stripe-like lines. They truly looked heinous against your otherwise unmarred skin. You’d felt insecurities really begin to kick in after you’d cried in the shower on the first day out of three of your sickness. 

During the latter three days of your cold (or whatever the hell it was), you’d sulked and avoided Jake’s help in whatever way you could. You wanted his help with the baby. Only with the baby. But the baby wasn’t there yet. 

So, you didn’t need his help. He didn’t need to care about you. Only the baby. It was common sense. And it would be fine. 

But it still made you feel oddly unwanted. The feeling didn’t matter. 

But, for you, with your utterly complicated past, feeling unwanted came hurtling towards you, without any sign of stopping.

Since you were a child, feeling unwanted in your mother’s grimy home, a whole range of other negative emotions accompanied that familiar feeling. Most call it depression. Your oldest friend.

And, it had officially lit up for this new stage of your life. Why enjoy things for too long? It wasn’t worth it. Right?

So, the way your skin was beginning to scar due to growth you absolutely couldn’t control. . . it just set misery aflame in your amped-up insecurities and dispirit. 

On the first night of December, the depressive thoughts persisted. You stood with your big sleep t-shirt tucked up under your heavy-ass boobs as you lathered your tummy up with the last oil in your new, nightly anti-stretch mark routine. As you did so, tears pooled in your eyes at the sight of yourself. 

And, seemingly out of nowhere, your thoughts picked up on a different train. . . something you hadn’t really taken time to be super upset about yet. The thought slipped in amongst the rest of your woes. 

It was the thought of being a single mother.

And while it didn’t matter and wasn’t completely true, because Jake would be there, you’d still be doing it on your own in a sense. You would be on your own. The two of you definitely weren’t together. He wouldn’t be there with you. He would just be there, doing his own thing for the baby, with Maya by his side. (Nausea crept up at her name alone. Gag.)

You were going to be a single mother. Just like your own moth–. No. You locked eyes with yourself in the mirror, momentarily stopping the massaging of your belly. 

I will not let my mind go there, you asserted silently, staring daggers through your reflection. I am not her. I am not. I can’t be. I won’t be. What would Gia say? What would Jake say?

Amidst your crying and sorrowful thoughts, the knock on the door of the bathroom kind of spooked you. And, in the depths of your despair, you couldn’t really care fucking less who saw you right now. That was just how pitiful you felt. 

“Come in,” you said, sniffing and trying to cover the sound of tears in your voice by swallowing them. 

When the door began opening, you had to scoot over a little to let Jake in. You knew it was him. He’d been home all night with you, while Maya was busy doing whatever the hell she needed to do for her job. 

He’d spent a couple hours catching up on New Girl with you and it had been nice. Except, anytime you thought about how it wasn’t really for your benefit and rather him just being your friend for the baby. . . It just wasn't the same.

“You okay?” He carefully pondered, coming to stand slightly behind you in the mirror.

But, as soon as he appeared next to you and saw your current state of dress, his eyes went immediately to your bare tummy. He stayed trained on the bump that continued to grow, day by day. Still not huge, but definitely not small.

Insecurities were instantly blossoming at his stare. He was not looking away for anything, lost in a trance. He was probably in shock at just how big your belly had gotten, compared to the last time he’d seen you like this. Chances were, he was repulsed by what he saw. 

You effectively decided the stretch marks had been tended to enough for the night. You went to pull your Pratt shirt over the exposed skin. But to your surprise, his hand was shooting out, around your body, just as quick, to stop you before you could pull it down too far. 

He definitely succeeded in stopping you, holding your wrist. You were in shock – skin flaming at his touch . . .felt it everywhere. 

“I want to see,” he requested, sort of breathless. What? He wanted to–? “You look–this is–.”

“Ugly? Fat? Disgust–?”

“Beautiful,” he firmly stated, his eyes finally locking with yours in the mirror at the word. “This is beautiful. You are beautiful.”

His hand still held your hand over shirt, not daring to touch your belly. You couldn’t move to make the position change. The fact that he’d just called you beautiful was like a lightning bolt to your entire nervous system.

“I’m not–,” you shook your head, at a loss for words. You did not fully agree with him. Was it beautiful that you were holding the baby? Was the baby beautiful inside? Yes. But were you loving your body these days? Absolutely not. “The stretch marks. . . I’m so fucking big. . .”

“You aren’t,” he suddenly dropped his hand, and you were missing his touch as soon as it was gone. He went to lean against the bathroom counter, facing you. His eyes bounced between your belly and your eyes, settling on your irises as he continued. “You are not any of the things you called yourself. I don’t think any of those things when I see you. . . I don’t even understand how you could–,” he shook his head, blinking once before finding your eyes. “I just see a woman who is special to me. A beautiful woman who is carrying my baby.”

Carrying my baby. 

Those words. . . they did something to you. Your palms were sweaty as you held tighter to your shirt, rolled under your boobs.

“The baby is beautiful,” you concurred. And surprisingly, you didn’t trip over your words. “But I am–.”

“You are beautiful. I am talking about you right now,” he stated, with no room for disagreement in his tone. “Don’t discount that. Please.”

“Are you just saying these things because I’m carrying your baby?”

Where did that come from? Shit. Nothing like baring your most vulnerable feelings to the very person you feel most vulnerable in front of. . . 

“No,” he said without pause. He sounded sure. “You have always been beautiful. It’s just. . . enhanced now. I can’t. . .it’s hard to explain.”

You wanted to ask him to try to explain it but you didn’t.

All of a sudden, you felt confident to ask more. 

“You don’t just think so because of the baby? Do you just care about me because of the baby?”

Jesus. There it was. 

“We’ve gone over this,” he sighed, rubbing circles against his temple. He didn’t keep on with the action, instead stuffing his hands in his pockets as he found your eyes with his. 

“I know, but I just. . . I feel like I don’t matter. I mean, I really don’t right now do I?" You sarcastically laughed, eyes watering. "All I’m good for is being the big, fat incubator who hates her body and has ugly fucking stretch marks because my belly won’t slow the fuck–.”

“It’s good that it won’t slow down,” he reassured, amber-brown irises smiling with his lopsided grin. “It means the baby’s healthy and growing.”

“But you do think I’m an incubator,” you stubbornly persisted. “Didn’t say anything to argue that.” Your tone unnecessarily snipped with your next words, “Jake, you just want to help the baby. I know this. So just wait until the baby’s here. Don’t worry about me or making me feel better if you just want to help the–.”

“Where are you getting this from?”

You stared at each other for a few moments. . . . He gave you a look that told you he could see you.

“My mind is a really twisty place,” you huffed a humorless laugh, rubbing your own temples now. “It never shuts the fuck up,” you paused–didn’t want to say anything about the sticky note on the book that had spurred the thoughts. The same thoughts you’d voiced the night you’d told him. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve already been insecure about all of this shit. It’s just–.”

“I don’t view you as an incubator,” he insisted, crossing his arms, strong fingers wrapping around stronger biceps. “I view you as a brave fucking woman who is being selfless as hell. You’re growing a fucking human, y/n,” he said, grin widening. You felt your lips lift, too. He continued, “And I can’t help but be amazed by that alone every. single. day. And while that is beautiful, yes - I won’t say it isn’t because it is,” he unwaveringly asserted. 

“But. . . it’s more,” he kept on. “You’ve been this woman-the one in front of me - for a long ass time–before I ever knew you. Though, since I’ve known you, I’ve had the privilege of seeing this woman. I knew your heart right off the bat–since the day Josh told me about this girl who was letting a man she didn’t know move into her fucking home. Just because she cared about the situation. Didn't even know me," He raised a brow, lips quirking as yours did the same. “You’re selfless and–,” he paused. 

His eyes shut briefly before opening to yours. Except this time. . . they were wet with emotion. Yours were, too. Your heart was pounding and you felt warm with a blush, from your chest to your face.

“And kind. So thoughtful when you don’t need to be. You care a whole fuckin’ lot for others and sometimes it gets you in trouble because you get in your head and it hurts you,” he said, brows dipped with a shake of his head. “But the fact that your heart is the way it is in spite of everything you’ve been through–I can’t even imagine, y/n. All of that and so much fucking more makes you beautiful,” he tucked his hair behind his ears before they went back into his pockets. “So, no, it’s not just because of the baby. It’s just one more thing that makes you beautiful.”

You were utterly speechless, and you couldn’t stop the wetness in your own eyes, a tear trickling down your own cheek. . . How could he even begin to say all of those things about you when you’d been so terrible to him? Always made assumptions?

You weren’t sure how much time passed when you finally swallowed down your own tears and found the most simple words you could mutter. “Thanks, Jake,” you whispered.

“Don’t thank me,” he winked. It clicked with you that you could faintly hear your heart monitor phone going off in your room. It was alerting you of unusual heart activity. No fucking wonder - with the poetry the man had just spoken. He heard it, too, apparently, brows wrinkling. “What is that sound that’s been going off for the last few–?”

“My heart monitor phone. My heart is beating really fucking hard in my chest right now and the monitor picked up on the palpitations,” you blushed, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear as you finally pulled your shirt down. “I’m not used to hearing people say things like that about me. It just catches me off guard when you–,” you coughed, blinking as you located some sense. “When anyone says sweet things like that to me.”

Then, you were back in time. Yet again. On the living room floor. That day it'd rained. . . a quiet, gray morning. He'd said things so like what he'd said just now. The same day those Aretha Franklin songs had sealed a place in your heart. Well– both of your hearts, apparently. . . according to Jake at the bar.

A comfortable silence had crept over the two of you that morning, he’d so obviously been watching you– admiring you–not to be mistaken for anything else as you'd laid atop him.

His next words confirmed it. 

“Even in the grayness of this morning, you shine so bright,” he said, almost absentmindedly. “You fucking glow, y/n. You’re just brilliant.”

All you’d been able to utter was a measly, “Thank you.” The sound of tears in your throat, behind your response, had surprised you.

“Has no one ever told you?” Jake had pondered, his warm chest breathing steadily and comfortably beneath you.

You’d explained how Josh and Elsie were kind to you, but. . . “hearing you say something like that. . .,” you’d emphasized to him. “Those words. . . It just feels good. I don’t know,” you’d shaken your head, a tear falling to meet his tanned chest. “And no one has ever said those exact words to me, no.”

“You are all of that and more, my lo—,” he’d cleared his throat, stopping himself from saying a word your heart was now longing so badly to hear. “You are so many things wrapped in one, y/n. So many fantastic things.”

“Stop,” you’d sniffed, more tears falling onto his chest. “You don’t have to say things like that. I promise I’ll still want to have sex with you if you don’t,” you’d laughed, wiping your leftover tears. The words had sounded funny (true, but still funny) as they’d left your mouth. 

“I want to tell you those things,” he’d said, firm in his response. “You deserve to hear those good things. Sex or not.”

And tonight had proven that he truly meant that statement. No sex, and still. . . .

But . . . goddamn. The sex. 

With that thought in mind, you couldn’t help but watch the sway of his ass in his tight black jeans as you followed out of the bathroom behind him. You bit your lip after bidding him goodnight– only able to think of how fucking badly you missed the sex. 

“I fucking love you,” he'd once told you - on the very night that had gotten you in this predicament. “And god, do I love fucking you. . .”

Not that word. . . Where had it come from just now?!

Love. Love. Love. Love. You hardly ever thought of him saying it to you–tried not to because it hurt and you knew it wasn’t true anymore.

But when he’d said those sweet things about you being beautiful just now. . . apparently, your mind couldn't help but chant the word . . .and the sound of him saying it to you. Why?! He was just being kind.

It was so hard wanting him and not being able to have him. . . Not like you ever actually had him - but before you fucked everything up with your stupid, hurtful words.

And, god, did you still want him. 

You couldn’t have him like that – all of the reasons were plain as day. But. . . at least you still had the memories. The wonderful memories. But being pregnant made the memories so much worse. . . because one little thought of how he felt inside of you had you actually throbbing for him.

As soon as you got to your bed, you were reaching into your bedside table for your favorite little vibrating instrument. The thought of that morning. . . the idea of having your breasts pushed against his bare chest again as he told you things just like he did tonight. . . You knew it wouldn’t take long for you to be unraveling. 

Before long, you were feeling all of the tremors you craved from Jake’s mouth, from the little toy held just right against your quivering bundle of nerves. And in less than five minutes, you were  shuddering, body tensing and releasing as you breathily moaned his name into your pillow.

-🌼🌼🌼-

December 4, 2022

Your week ended with a particularly exhausting day at the Black and Gold. 

Inventory had come out of nowhere. And, with Josh busy with his new career, it was mostly on you to prepare for it.

The two other girls who worked with you couldn’t give two shits and it showed when you’d shown up for a shift after theirs. Nothing was ever prepared in the evenings or the following mornings if they were in charge—and inventory week was no exception. 

In fact, it was glaringly more obvious when it was such an important week as inventory week. 

And having to do all of that after your few solid days of feeling like complete and utter crap and while being pregnant? It had been one of the longest days you’d had in your whole life (dramatic? Maybe. But whatever.). 

And to top it all off, you’d come home to the apartment being very warm to accommodate the cooler weather outside. 

For normal people, it probably felt nice to come into the warmth. And, most likely, it would’ve felt great to you before your pregnancy.

It was just too damn hot in the apartment tonight. You’d wanted to come home and take a warm shower to wash off the day and relax your sore muscles, but the temperature of the place had you throwing that idea away real quick.

So instead, you hurriedly went about feeding Stevie before rushing to your bedroom to dig out the box fan stuffed at the top of your closet. You’d bought it the summer the A/C had let out on you and your sister, and had kept it handy ever since for fear of it happening again. 

And at this exact moment, it felt just as hot to you as it did that summer the A/C quit working.

The fan was plugged in and blowing at full blast, towards the bed, in no time. It was sitting on top of your vanity seat, pointing right at your side of the bed. The speed at which you’d gotten it situated was astounding. And your sheets were cool and crisp and tempting you to climb into them when you pulled your covers down. 

But you couldn’t climb in yet with the way your bladder was squeezing and hurting with how badly you needed to pee. You’d put it off at the B&G, ready to get home. And then you’d come home to an uncomfortably steamy apartment.

Before heading to the bathroom, you stripped completely of your tight bra (thank you, God), your stuffy sweater and your leggings. Then, changed into a thin pair of pajama shorts and the first camisole you could find in your chest of drawers. And thankfully the thin strapped shirt had no built-in bra to constrict you. 

You’d welcomed Stevie into your room, her soft purrs and shaggy fur rubbing against your ankles as you promised her of your soon arrival back. 

Finally, after peeing and washing your face, you were ready to lay right in front of that fan. 

You stopped by the kitchen to quickly grab a Stanley from the counter– to find nothing. No Stanley. Neither of them.

Shit.

Slapping your forehead, you remembered almost instantly where they still sat on the counter at the Black and Gold. Both of them. Your rush to leave and rest from your long day had prompted you to forget a couple of your most prized possessions. 

Without your go-to water tumbler, you felt naked. And even more thirsty. 

Your day had been long and hard and now you were paying for it. Ugh.

When you scanned the kitchen for a quick alternative, your eyes immediately landed on the case of waters that Jake had recently bought for rehearsals only. You didn’t give two shits. You were bound to steal one to satiate your thirst. 

The one problem was. . .

It was sitting atop the fridge. Out of your reach. And with the few inches Jake had on you, he’d stacked it up there so it would be out of the way. You remembered him saying those exact words as you eyed the package now. Hated those words. 

Because not only was it out of the way, it was out of your reach. Out of your reach when you were dying of thirst and needed a drink of water. Stat.

Without thinking of risking anything, you went to grab a table chair quickly and quietly.

You had to be quiet because Jake was home and you did not want to wake him. Not when you were in cavewoman mode. . . and especially not with the way your tits and ass were flashing in your current choice of clothing. Or with the ugly heart monitor that was attached to your chest.

So, as carefully as possible, you sat the chair next to the side of the fridge with the waters and climbed on top of the seat to grab the case of Pure Life. Briefly, you worried about handling a heavy object while pregnant, but put it to the side when you realized pregnant women all over America handled water cases like this. You were fine. 

In the lapse of time it took you to contemplate holding the waters, and getting it off the counter, you misplaced the package on the counter top. And right as you silently stepped off the chair, the waters came crashing down onto the floor of the kitchen. The harsh sound of plastic smashing against the ground, filled with several heavy bottles of water, seemed to linger in the air around you as you stood there. One foot still on the chair, one off ready to go. 

Not able to change the fact that it crashed onto the ground, you just stood there and stared at the offensive case of water for a moment and cursed it for its loudness. But before you could silently wish harm for too long, you were bending to pick it up. 

Once it had been safely placed back on the counter with careful hands, you glanced towards Jake’s room. No movement or sound from it. He probably hadn’t heard — deep in sleep. 

And then. . . Your pregnant brain was sparking to life. 

There was a fucking Brita in the fridge. Filled to the brim with ice cold water, versus the room temperature water in the case. You’d just filled it this morning before class. And ice cold water sounded so much more appealing than lukewarm. . . 

If only you’d remembered before that you had the filtered water waiting in the pitcher. . . There wouldn’t have been a giant crash to possibly wake your roommate. 

Putting all of the irritation out of your mind, you went to grab a glass quickly from the cabinet, then hastily pried the pitcher from the refrigerator. With nervous hands, you poured until the glass was literally overflowing. 

“Shit!” You whispered at the mess, anxious to be rid of this situation. Tired and thirsty and still feeling warm even in your cami and shorts, your ears rushed with white noise.

This was not ending up like you’d planned.

The pitcher had safely found its spot back in the fridge and you were finally taking a drink from your (overfilled) glass, when you decided to multitask and grab a few paper towels to clean up the counter.

But when they wouldn’t rip off the roll, you yanked too hard. And that resulted in the water you were still drinking, to spill. It dripped down your chin, down your top mostly, and into the top of your shorts. Sensory overload was doing what it did best, overwhelming you—making you lose grip and had the glass falling from your hand and to the ground. 

That shatter was much worse than the water case falling, the shards thankfully large, but the few sparkling pieces of glass had you shushing Stevie away when she approached with curiosity. 

And if Stevie was approaching, then surely someone else had heard—

“Y/n, what’s going on?” Jake hushed, his voice close behind you, sounding like it was coming from the entryway of the kitchen. 

You stilled. Of course he'd woken up. You’d made a fuck ton of noise. Real nice.

You turned on your heel, just the slightest bit, to peek over your shoulder at him. And with the luck you’d already had with the night, the action made you effectively slip from the bit of water that had made its way under your foot. 

Falling, more like—and not using the counter to catch yourself like a sane person—towards the hard ground and glass, bump—baby— first—fuckfuckfu—.

Jake’s arms immediately wrapped around you, effectively stopping your fall. He hugged you tightly to him. One arm wrapped fully around your stomach, hand secured to your side, firmly in place. And the other hand— gripping your breast. . . fully. 

He had you wrapped up in him, ass pulled into his crotch to keep you steady.

And ho-ly fuck.

Your nipple hardened instantly at the feeling of him holding your chest. You’d been waiting to feel his hand hold your sore breasts. . . And your assumption had been correct. His touch eased the pain in them, felt deliciously good—his touch didn’t hurt them like everyone else seemed to do on contact. 

But then he began moving his hands away. 

No.

“I’m sorry— I-I didn’t mean to—.”

“Stay.”

The word just slipped out as you grabbed hold of his hand, keeping it secured where he’d initially placed it, carefully situating his fingers over your nipple for the sensation you longed for. 

And when you did, he squeezed the flesh through your thin shirt. His other hand gripped your hip, exposed just a bit by your shirt – the way his fingers held you there made you fearful that he’d leave marks.

You fucking hoped so. 

And fuck, if he didn’t like it, too. You could feel it against your ass.

The way he continued to massage his other hand on your chest, wrapping his fingers securely around your breast, feeling it, told you so, too. The impulsive urge to pull down the top of your shirt and give him full access was becoming more and more appealing by the second. 

But you didn’t do it. Didn’t want to do too much and scare him away. 

You just let his arm come to rest where he apparently wanted it to, fully over the other breast. He comfortably situated his arm, rubbed a purposeful thumb over your sensitive nipple. 

“Jake,” you whispered. Couldn’t help it. He elicited this feeling. “Please.”

With your words, he pressed his front harder against your ass. God, you could feel the shape of him.

Letting the moment take over, you decided to let your body lean into his, rested against him and pushed your ass purposefully into his hardening dick. The breath he sucked in was not lost on you, and you craved hearing it again, so you repeated the action against him. 

His hand tightened around your breast, and he began massaging it as he used his grip to pull you even closer to him. His thumb moved to rub tight circles around your taut nipple. It felt so good. . . your head fell back against his shoulder, sucking in your own breath between your teeth. The way he gently kneaded the flesh in his strong grip had electricity shooting through your chest, all the way down to your toes. 

Your heart was going crazy, beating frantically, barely letting up with its assault against your chest. The feeling of him against you was enough to make you lose your breath with the way your heart was clenching in your chest, all the way up to your throat.

And then you heard a familiar, faint beeping from your bedroom.

The blessed heart monitor phone. Tracking when your heart rate would increase. The stupid phone didn’t need to tell you that it was beating hard right now. And so what if you fainted? You would do it in Jake’s arms. No better place to be. 

All you knew was that you were elated that it was still in your room – and quiet enough to the average ear that it hopefully didn’t break the air of want between you and this man you wanted so. badly. 

Jake hadn’t heard it - or didn't care to stop if he had, that much seemed to be clear.

He angled his hips, pressing so cozily into your backside. You could feel all of him – moving in slow circles, while still pressed tightly to your ass. That continued on for a while until he nudged himself, right in the middle of your ass. You felt him pulsing. Tucked into you, making your core throb even more for him.

Your nerves were on fire, and when he began rolling his hips, thrusting into your ass. . . you released the tiniest moan. It was such a small sound that you briefly thought you’d imagined it. But then the hand that had been holding your hip came to wrap around your throat briefly, and then up to your mouth. 

His breath came in hot waves against your ear, his voice gravelly with need. “It’s late. We shouldn’t make noise like that. It’s too late.”

After making his point known, his hand moved to sweep some hair over one shoulder, leaving your neck exposed for him to breathe hotly against. . . and then lick. Your breath hitched at the sensation of his wet tongue, making loose circles against your hot, sweating flesh.

“You still taste so good,” he moaned with the words, ever so quietly. “You always will–but it’s like you taste sweeter than before. I can’t even–.

But he never finished what he was saying, choosing instead to press sloppy kisses against your skin. His lips and his tongue, moving together to suck gently. 

Fuck! What had gotten into–?

Your body relaxed into him all on its own, moving near enough to him that you felt like one. 

Your ass ground against him, pressing so close. He kept with his motions as he angled his lips to hover above your bare shoulder, breath hot on your skin.

Though, his kisses stopped. But, he still released puffs of overexerted breaths, over your skin, wet from his mouth. It made your toes curl and your eyes fall closed. He didn’t give your neck any more attention as he used his position to lean up and look over the front of your body, effectively pulling you even closer to him. 

“God,” he breathed, his breath hitting from exposed shoulder, onto your collar bones. Your motions continued, but just a little slower to keep him where he was, not wanting to somehow push him away. You felt him, throbbing steadily against your ass. “You’re soaked.”

You have no idea, you silently, hotly responded, moving to rub your thighs together.

But you remembered your predicament. What he was talking about. Your clothes were completely soaked through. There had been so much water. He was talking about your clothes.

“I spilled my water,” you breathed back, so quiet. 

“I can see that. Y/n– fuck,” he rutted against your ass, his hand moving to the bottom of your full breast to hold it in a steady grip. You realized he was moving his hand to see the entire breast, your straining nipples through the soaked white fabric. “Your tits. . . they’re so fucking– Goddammit.”

“Sore,” you moaned back, your body arching in need against the hardness in his loose pajama pants. “Heavy.”

“God, I’m sor–,” he went to move his hand again. And you once again brought your hand up to stop him. 

“No, Jake,” you held his hand in a tight grip, rubbing your thumb over the back of it. “Feels good.”

“Yeah?” He questioned, raspy and needy. 

Then, he was suddenly letting go of your chest to move your strap to do what you so desperately wanted.

Once it was draped over your shoulder, he moved a hand slowly over your sternum, into the front of your shirt. When he grazed his fingers over your oversensitive nipple, you whined, knees buckling. And, finally, he pulled your breast out to touch the air. 

And just before he could hold it with the hand that was readily going to grasp it. . . his bedroom door was creaking open. 

“Jakey?” Maya’s voice rang through the apartment. “You okay?”

Of course she was here. Why wouldn’t she be? 

You hadn’t heard the tell-tale sign of anyone taking steps towards the kitchen from the slightly creaky hallway, but you still decided you needed to get the fuck away from Jake. He was not yours.

You pulled away harshly and quickly, turning around all as you went to pull up your tank.

When you fully turned around, he was standing stock-still, watching your every move with your top, not letting his eyes fall away from your breasts. Your hard nipples. You felt the blush spread across your entire chest.

Then he bit his lip, your entire body heating at the motion, before he was responding.

You moved forward to hold his cheek, trying to wake him from the daze he was in. Your words barely hit the air, you were so quiet. “Jake, go back to your room. I’ll clean this up so she doesn’t–.”

“I’m good, babe,” he called back to her in a low tone, still honing in on your eyes. Your brows dipped, confused. He looked to the fridge, his hand coming to hold your bicep, keeping you there. Why was he not getting his ass back to his room? “Y/n’s asleep and I really don’t want to wake her,” he lied, eyes still glued to something to your left.

She could walk in and see he was lying! Why was he being so fucking careless? 

“Just go back to bed,” he continued, leaving no room for argument or worry. “I dropped something when I was getting up to get some water.”

“Okay,” she responded, not using the same near-whispering tone as him. “Just don’t be long, baby.”

“I won’t,” he simply said, amber-brown irises, tracing back to yours in the dim lighting of the kitchen, highlighted by the moon, shining in through the kitchen window. Full moon. Anything can happen. 

And what was happening was wrong. 

When you heard his bedroom door click closed and a little squeak from the bed to indicate someone had placed weight on it, you pulled away from him, his arm slowly dropping back to his side. The eyes that stared back at yours had a question behind them, but you didn’t give him time to ask it.

“Jake,” your tone clipped and quiet. You didn’t want to break the ridiculous cover he’d mindlessly created. “Why the fuck did you lie like that?”

“I didn’t want her to come in here,” he cut back, his inflection reflecting the same hot energy as yours. “If she would’ve known we were both in here, she would have come looking. I don’t need that,” he insisted. “And neither do you. Especially with your tits on full fucking display like that.”

You glanced down, after he’d motioned momentarily at your chest. And, his words rang true when you realized your entire fucking nipple and areola was visible through the material. Even in the darkness of night, you could tell as much. Your arms flew up to snugly cover them, flinching at the way it felt like sharp needles were pressing into your chest momentarily.  

When you peered down to where you saw his hand moving, you realized he was palming himself through his pants. You felt yourself release, the slightest bit in your panties.

Your hands tightened closer to your chest, doing the opposite of what you wanted in that moment–you wanted to bring your shirt down over yourself and let him finish on your waiting ches–.

Suddenly the pressure against you was too much and your arms were falling from their place across your breasts. Thus, standing there, on full display. Right fucking there for stupid ass Maya to walk in at any moment. 

Honestly, you were the stupid ass. And it seemed like Jake was, too. 

Maya was the innocent one in all of this.

“Go wait in your room for me,” he whispered heatedly, his words piercing your heart at the anxious energy floating through your veins. “I’ll clean this up. And then I’ll be—.”

“But–,” you brought your arms up to your chest again, covering yourself. It was a brainless move to flash your chest like that. You didn’t want to tempt him in any way. “This is my mess just–.”

“Y/n,” he all but spit in your direction with the harshness in his whisper. “I don’t want you falling and hurting yourself on the water or glass. Please.”

Good point. 

So, you decided you’d do as you were told, though not without the last word.

“Fine,” you practically growled, stepping over water, his hand reaching out to you, trying to balance over a puddle pooled at your feet. You grabbed his hand, one arm covered your heaving chest, as you made your way over the mess, and finished your thought. “But don’t come to my room. Go back to bed. I don’t want Maya to–.”

“I don’t care right now–,” he cut you off, but you didn’t let him continue before interjecting. 

“You will in the morning, Jacob,” you bit back, making fiery eye contact, crossing your arms. The hiss you released at the feeling of both arms covering yourself again was embarrassing. So, you tried to play it off. “You will. Just don’t make the mistake of coming to see me ton–.”

“It wouldn’t be a mist–.”

“Jake. Yes it would,” you insisted with a tense whisper, taking one step towards him, not taking your eyes from his once. “I’m not going to have you ruin what you have with her just to make a fucking mistake with me.”

Throughout the span of that small conversation, you saw his eyes go through every possible wave of emotion. His beautiful, deep set eyes had started wide with excitement, to now being filled with white hot frustration. He was mad. 

The last emotion made its way straight to the pit of your tummy and to your panties as you felt them draw even wetter. Damn. You’d take any sex with Jake right now, but angry sex? Dammit if that didn’t get you–. 

No, y/n. Stop it.

“Do you not want this? Why were you—just minutes ago if you don’t–?”

“I never said I didn’t want it.” You flat-out said, without a second thought. Why even lie when you’d just exposed yourself with whatever you’d just done with him? To him?

The two of you stood there, watching each other with flushed cheeks, hot breaths, and equally heaving chests. 

God, you would not be able to hold onto your momentary flash of integrity if you didn’t finish your thought and leave him. 

“We just can’t do it. It wouldn’t be right,” you sniffed. Shit. Your throat was tightening, eyes collecting tears. “I don’t want to be the reason you leave a woman–the woman you love,” you choked, foolishly, on the emotion that quickly made its way from your throat to your eyes. “I just want you to be happy.”

His own expression matched yours, his eyes pooled with tears of dejection. There were once more a couple moments, filled with silence.

Silence, aside from your deep breathing, and wrought with an energy you couldn’t place. You had to get away from him.

“Just go to bed. I won’t fucking bother you,” he said, swallowing thickly. He then spoke your words from earlier. “And let me clean this up.”

Again, you sniffled, but nodded, looking down, to cover it with a barely there 'goodnight'.

He didn’t say anything else, just went about his business in the kitchen to put things back together, turning his back on you altogether.

Suffice to say, you cried for a good chunk of time as you laid in bed, after changing into a big t-shirt.

Cried big, fat, somber tears.

The crying had even lasted long enough, keeping you up to hear the bed creak much more than necessary when Jake got back to his bedroom. . . The sound of soft, pleasured moans from both of them, accompanying the groans of the bed as they moved on top of it.

Lucky fucking you. 

The bed that used to be yours when that room was yours. . . The acts being made against it that made you want to punch something - someone. Someone with long, black hair and a too-sweet expression.

Like a child, you growled and used a spare pillow to cover your ears until you couldn’t hear anything through the plush filling of the pillow.

You also tried to distract yourself with TikToks, but you couldn’t focus on your feed filled with BabyTok. It just made you sad and wistful as you thought of your day of book shopping with Jake. . .

About 30 minutes later, you figured the coast was clear. It had occurred to you after lying there, doing aimless shit, that you were still very thirsty. . . your tongue felt like cardboard in your mouth. 

When you opened the door to go to the kitchen, though, you found a tumbler that didn’t belong to you, waiting for you. And when you picked it up, you realized exactly who it belonged to. . . the words told you as much. 

Merry Christmas, Jacob Thomas! 

Love you, 

Mom 

The Cricut-vinyl lettering was placed carefully across the front of the black off-brand Yeti. What you found when you looked through the clear lid was a cup full of water. Iced water.

The crying that ensued as you closed the door and placed the cup on your nightstand was no surprise to you. The sweet action made your heart thrum with unbridled admiration for him. 

You hated how things were now. . . how simply interacting with him the way you had was a mistake. When you compared it to the way things had been before the fateful day in the kitchen, it made your stomach sink and your eyes well with more tears. 

Then there had been what you’d heard through the walls. . . it made you want to fucking vomit. But. . .you’d brought it on yourself. No question about it. 

Aaand, more of the damn tears. . .

After taking a few healthy swigs from the cup, you felt sleep find you without warning. Your eyes were beginning to close on their own.

And, as you faded into a well-earned sleep, the only solace you found that night was the smooth bump of your tummy, which your hands held protectively–longingly–as you wandered to sleep.

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: hmmmmm what do you think will follow that night in the kitchen?????

Change the World from Friendsgiving :)

ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts! love youuuu &lt;3

& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)

Taglist:

@joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssoloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend

@aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @sacredtheslay, @alienobsever, @hollyco, @age0fwagner, @raceb14, @stardustcatcher, @styles-canvas, @ladywhimsymoon, @earthgrlsreasy, @peaceloveunitygvf

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(i think i figured out the tags limit! woooohoooo!! boo, tumblr. you're not getting me down today lmao)

[xpiredcheeto]

Glass

(Not my gif)

word count

Reader stays out late and comes home injured.

Tommy Shelby x sister reader, Arthur Shelby x sister reader, Ada Shelby x sister reader

Warnings: Blood, injuries, blood, death, killing, cursing, reader gets attacked, mentions of cocaine, Arthur is sad and needs a hug very bad, mentions of prostitution. I think that's all. 

This takes place during season 2

word count:  2395

 This whole situation could have been avoided if you had decided to call it an early night and ignored your burning desire to stay awake and go to some pub in the middle of the night, but of course, being a Shelby, you decided to go out. 

You walked down the cold and dark alleyway leading to the building. The outside walls were cracking, paint was peeling from its edges. Just the place you were looking for. It was called The Red Lion. You walked up the brick steps of the pub, and the click of your shoes echoed in your mind. The mahogany door had a stained glass window depicting a fisherman. You had no idea what a pub called "The Red Lion" was doing by having an image of a fisherman as their window, but maybe they got it on sale. 

It was far away from the watchful eyes of Small Heath, away from your reputation. It freed you in a certain way. Unfortunately, being away from the negatives of your reputation also meant you were away from the protection it brought with it. Normally this was not an issue, but tonight was different. When you walked into the pub, everything became silent at once. All heads in the bar turned to face you. Maybe you were not as far from your reputation as you thought you were.  

"You think she's a spy?" one man asked another 

The old floors creaked under your footsteps. You approached the bartender to ask for your usual when a voice from behind confronted you. "Yer not allowed in our pub, little girl. Why don't you run on home?" 

You made note of his voice, he was Irish and he spoke with a level of arrogance like no one had ever told him "no" in his life. 

"Sorry, but I'm not going anywhere. I came here for a drink and I'm going to get it. If you would just leave me alone I could have my drink in peace and you won't have to worry about me."

You could tell by the look on his face that he didn't like the answer you had given him. his brows furrowed and his expression contorted into one of annoyance. 

"I asked you to leave and when I ask you to do something, you better do it. Now, this is your last chance to leave before something happens that you won't like." He was trying to scare you and it wasn't working. You were going to hold your ground until this strange man left you alone. 

  "Look, I just told you that I'm not leaving so why don't you just leave me alone-" you were cut off when two hands grasped your shoulders. They dragged you backward off your chair and onto the wooden flooring of the bar. You hit the ground with a bang and waves of pain radiated up and down your spine. You let out a hiss of pain and the hands grabbed you again. This time they angled you toward a glass table before you could process what had happened. Your body was thrown with such force you could not stop the trajectory of your body. You threw both arms out in front of your face to block the impact of the table. Suddenly, waves of white-hot, stinging pain punctured your forearms. Blood trickled down your arms as you looked up. There were two men before you, the one that confronted you earlier and another. His face was withered, and his expression bore a constant snarl as he looked down at you. 

"Are you two fucking insane?! That's the Shelby girl, her brothers will fucking kill all of us!" the bartender was seething with rage. His face was a glowing red color. You glanced back at the men, they looked scared now. 

You looked down at the floor, the brown wood now tainted red with your blood. You heard movement behind you, rushed and frantic, then the slamming of the front door. You looked back up at the bartender, he threw a dishtowel at you. "For the bleeding," he said. You held the dirty rag to your left arm, leaving the right to bleed all over your clothes. 

You limped to the door, turned the handle, and walked out. A rush of frigid air hit you, cooling the thick rivets of blood streaming from your arm. The walk home wasn't too long but the pain was making it seem so much longer. You looked down at your white blouse, patches were saturated with red blood. The way it stuck to your skin was revolting, partially dried, and sticky. The metallic stench was almost overwhelming if not for the pain coursing through your body. And, oh God, it hurt. It wasn't just the pain from your arms, your back still ached from the fall, and it made each step agony.   

You were approaching Small Heath now. The smell was normally the first thing that hit you, but not tonight, now the only thing you could think of was blood and glass. The shards still embedded into your arms made each movement painful. You could see the house now, you were so close.

You walked up to the door, twisted the handle, and pulled. Awaiting you in the kitchen was Ada. Her eyes shot up, "Do you know how worried I was-" she cut herself off. "Oh my God, Y/N, what happened? Come here     I'll patch you up." Her face was laced with concern. "Sit down, I'll get the bandages." She got up and move to the bathroom, you could hear her rummaging around in the cabinets. Glancing at your arms, you saw the rag was saturated with blood.

Behind you, you heard the door opening, then a loud gasp. It was Arthur. "Jesus Christ, who the fuck did this to you?" he was next to you now, looking at your arms. You responded, "I don't exactly know who it was. There were two of them, but I don't know what I did to upset them that much."

  Ada returned from the bathroom with her hands full of bandages and a pair of tweezers. Arthur looked relieved to see her. She acknowledged Arthur and started speaking "I found the bandages," she held up the pair of tweezers, "and these are for the glass." She sat down next to you. "How did this happen?" she asked again. 

"I got thrown through a table." You replied. Arthur let out a sigh of anger. Ada picked up her tweezers and looked up at your face. "This might hurt so prepare yourself." The tweezers grasped at a piece of glass and you let out a hiss. Arthur noticed and tried to calm you. "Shh, it's alright, it's alright." he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself of the fact. The door opened once more. All three of you turned your heads, Tommy was standing in the doorway with a look of confusion burned onto his features.   He took a step towards you and spoke. "What the fuck happened?"  

"She got thrown through a fucking table, Tom," Arthur responded for you. 

"What the fuck do you mean she got thrown through a table?! Who the fuck threw her through a table?" You moved to answer but let out a pained gasp when Ada pulled one of the shards out. Arthur looked back at you and moved his hand to rub up and down your back. 

"I-oh fuck, I don't know who it was. They were Irish and in a pub called The Red Lion. I don't even know what I did to offend them so much." you spoke through gritted teeth.

Arthur looked at Tommy, they were going to trash the pub later and find the men that did this, but first, they needed to make sure you were going to be alright. Ada moved to another shard, this one came out easier than the last, but the pain was still significant. And, oh god, you were crying now. 

"This really fucking hurts." you sobbed out. Arthur responded to you, "I know, love. I swear I'm gonna kill everyone that hurts you. I-I'll fucking kill the people that did this." He looked like he was about to cry too. Ada looked up from her work to inform you she was almost done removing the glass, just one more to go. You looked at Tommy, he had moved and was now sitting on a chair across the kitchen. He shot Arthur a glance and said "Tomorrow, brother."

Ada was getting ready to pull the final one out now, it was located near your left wrist. At this point, you were struggling to keep your eyes open, the blood loss made you dizzy and lightheaded. She grasped it with her tweezers and pulled. Your eyes shot open and you let out a scream of pain. Arthur grabbed your right hand and rested his head on the corner of your neck. It was the closest he could get to hugging you at this moment.

"Alright love, the painful part is over, all I have to do now is wrap them up." Her voice always seemed to soothe you. She placed the edge of the bandage in your palm and wrapped it around a few times. She then moved it down to loop around your thumb before wrapping it around your forearm. She repeated the process on your other arm. You looked over at Tommy, he stared forward in a silent rage.

"I'm gonna go to bed now." You moved to get up. Tommy moved from his chair, "No, love, you shouldn't be walking. I'll carry you to bed, Alright?" You nodded and he walked over, he looped one arm under your knees and one beneath your back. He lifted you and carried you up the stairs, he pushed the door open with his side and laid you on the bed. He went to your dresser and grabbed a nightgown for you. He laid it on the bed for you to put on. He turned to leave the room, "Thank you." 

"You don't need to thank me, love." He placed a soft kiss on the crown of your head before turning and leaving the room. You unbuttoned the now red blouse you were wearing and pulled it off, it dragged on your arms sending pain blooming through them. You let out a small hiss and let it drop to the floor. You reach down and slid your bottoms off, also leaving them on the floor. You pulled the nightgown over your head and down the rest of your body, you moved to get under the covers when you heard a knock at the door followed by a voice. You sat up. "Hello, can I come in? If you don't want me to that's fine... I just don't want you to be alone right now." It was Arthur.

"Yeah, come in."

The door opened with a creak and he walked over to you. He gently grabbed you in his arms and held you. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I...I don't ever want you getting hurt and I wish I was there so I could keep you safe." he paused. "Can I stay in here tonight, so I can make sure you're safe?" he looked at you, awaiting your response.

"Yes, Arthur, you can stay in here tonight." 

"Alright, love. I'll sit in the chair over there." He pointed to the chair across your room next to your fireplace. "No, Arthur. You can sleep in bed with me. I don't mind, I'd feel safer that way anyways." He looked surprised, but he walked over to your bed and slid in next to you. He adjusted his position next to you and said, "Alright, love, go to sleep now. You need your rest."  

He looped his arms around you in a protective hug. He held you tight to his chest as if you would disappear if he let go. "Please don't scare me like that again," he spoke as if he was still scared that you were seriously injured. "I don't know what id do if I lost you." his voice was breaking, and you could tell he was holding back tears. You could tell he wanted to say more, to tell you he wouldn't be able to live with himself knowing he wasn't there to keep you safe. He didn't tell you he would blame himself for the rest of his life if you died and how he already gets nightmares about that exact scenario. Instead, he held you tighter and pushed his face into the crook of his neck. You could feel his tears run down your shoulder like shiny pearls. You felt like crying too. 

"Oh, Arthur. I would never leave you like that. I'm so sorry I made you worry about me." You turned around so you could wrap your arms around him, wincing slightly when the sheets rubbed against the bandages. "It's alright, love. It's not your fault. It's those fucking men that hurt you. I'll find 'em, make sure they never hurt you again." 

"It's alright, Arthur. They can't hurt me now." You made your voice as soft as possible in an attempt to calm him. 

"I know, love. I know," he paused. "Just...If you want a drink, go to The Garrison. Won't be mad as long as you don't end up like me. Oh god, please don't end up like me... I'm sorry. I'm keeping you up. Go to sleep now, you need rest." 

"It's Okay, Arthur. You don't need to apologize, and you need to stop insulting yourself."  He nodded into your neck. You shut your eyes and melted into the darkness behind your eyelids. You savored the feeling of protection that your brother gave you, it made you feel like you were safe from anything while you were in his arms. And you most likely were, he would do anything to keep you safe, even if that meant bashing someone's head in with a glass ashtray. Even if that meant killing fathers and sons, none of it was as important as keeping you safe. You drifted into the abyss of sleep in his arms, knowing that none of your fears would be able to harm you.

[gin-juice-tonic]

I've been thinking a lot about gender identity and stuff lately, but to my shame I’m not the most educated person when it comes to lgbt related stuff. Every time I try to search it to learn more I end up freaking out and clearing my browsing history because of the feeling of being watched. I know I’m being unreasonable, but it’s stronger than me. I don’t have anyone to ask about this kind of stuff. Everyone around me is negative about lgbt, I grew up among this negativity. I’m afraid to ask my online friends because I don’t want to seem ignorant or stupid. What have I decided to do? Send an anonymous ask to a stranger about my concerns (sorry about that), whose blog helped me to accept the fact that I might not be who I though I was at the first place. It feels more safe. Back to the point.

As a teen I used she/they pronouns and a different gender-neutral name online for years. I still do it as an adult and now I realise that “she” was more like a compromise for me because it was what I used to be referred as for my whole life, but didn’t feel quite comfortable with. So it’s they/them for me, I guess. Okay. I’ve always preferred to not be related to any gender, but now I see that there’s more to it. I might be a nonbinary, but what if I’m actually an agender? I also consider the possibility of being a genderfluid because one moment I wear a dress and think that it looks good, and the other moment I cry in front of a mirror because of the idea of wearing it. So yeah, it depends on my mood. I don’t know how it works. I’m just so confused. The only thing I know that I’m not comfortable with being referred to as a female anymore. I’ve never really been.

Admittedly, as someone who is binary trans, I do not have a lot of knowledge in this area. I do know what it’s like to not know what you’re “supposed to be” though. And I know it can be frustrating and scary to be lost in trying to figure out your own identity. 

I asked some of my friends, who are nonbinary and genderfluid themselves, and the first thing we all have to say is you should allow yourself more kindness. I am sorry that you grew up around so much negativity. But I want you to know that it’s both okay to feel afraid but also okay to not know everything. If a friend is going to treat you badly for asking questions, they’re not a very good friend. 

One of my friends says the part you said about “making compromises” resonated a lot with them a lot, so you aren’t alone there. As for how you feel in a dress, clothes do not equal gender. You can like how you look in a dress without any of it having to do with girl-ishness. I suggest you try to think about why you like it when you do, and why you don’t when you don’t. My friends also suggested trying other clothes you can express yourself with. Think about why you like them, or why you don’t like them. (Of course, sometimes the answer has nothing to do with gender. I like athletic clothing because they make me look sporty, which is a neutral thing. But it’s good to know what parts aren’t related to gender at all too.) That extends beyond clothes too, any part of your presentation that you think you can play with without getting yourself into danger, you should. 

It’s tempting to feel like you have to scramble to figure out a label. Especially when advice and other people you can talk to can feel sort of “grouped” under them. And there’s a lot of knowledge to be gained that way for sure. But there’s a lot of knowledge to be gained just in figuring out what you do and don’t like. What makes you feel bad, what makes you feel at ease, what makes you super excited. You‘ve got it nailed down that you don’t like being called a female, that’s not a bad start! 

If your friends are people you think are good and kind, I would suggest reaching out to them so that you can explore things a little more with them, considering they know you better than I would. I know it's scary, but there's nothing wrong with not knowing things, and I hope they'd be aware of that too. And even if you call yourself something now and explore more into it, there's no harm if in the future it doesn't fit so good. There's no wrong way to be a gender, and more importantly there's no wrong way to be you.

[nataliasquote]

My Songbird | 1 | n romanoff

Summary: The best days of high school happen in summer and Willow doesn’t want these days to end. Life just feels sweeter this way

Warnings: homophobia (it’s set in the 70s), casual weed consumption, mentions of traditional negative parenting, underage drinking

Pairings: Natasha x Willow (O!C)

wc: 4.7k

note: the first part of the ‘My Songbird’ series! I’m so excited to get this underway just in time for spring. Whilst this does include the secret relationship between Natasha and Willow, this story will also follow Willow’s struggles of not fitting in with society and her parents’ views :)

-⧗-

There was no better feeling than this.

The wind flying through her hair that streamed behind her as she peddled faster down the street and blew the ties that held her top closed at her front. The sun was warm and kissed the skin on her knees through the branches as she cycled beneath them, taking a harsh right down the streets she knew so well.

She waved to her neighbours and poked her tongue out at the kids who yelled out her name, busy playing with the hosepipe to try and cool off from the beating midday sun. Sweat beaded across her cheeks but she didn’t care. It was just as at home there as her freckles were, brought on by weeks of laying out in the sun.

Her bike clattered to the ground and she sprinted off the second her wheels hit the long grass, ignoring the way the blades tickled her bare legs. She heard laughing and shouting and the sound of water.

The sounds of her summer.

“Willow! What took you so long!” A voice yelled from the middle of the river the moment she came into view. The girl grinned and dropped her bag at the base of the large tree they always sat under.

“I’m sorry! Pa wanted my help in the shop!” She untied her white cross-over top and wriggled out of her denim shorts, tossing them messily in a pile on her backpack along with her converse. A floral orange bikini now adorned her body and she took a couple of steps back before running to the riverbank edge and jumping into the water, completely soaking everyone else inside.

Willow broke the surface of the water and slicked her unruly hair back out of her face, basking in how delicious the heat of the sun felt on her wet skin.

Natasha, who was spitting water out of her mouth thanks to her, now watched on with a slack jaw, almost drooling at the way the sunlight caught her girlfriend. These weeks in the sun had done wonders for her complexion and she glowed almost golden, the lighter highlights in her dark hair still catching the light even wet.

“You’re not allowed to do that when everyone is watching,” she hissed, sneaking up behind Willow and wrapping her arms around her waist under the water. The girl blushed and pressed a kiss to Natasha’s lips before looping an arm around her shoulder and turning to the rest of their friends with a grin.

“What did I miss?” She asked, looking at Wanda mostly, who was the biggest gossip in their group. She somehow knew the weirdest secrets about everyone in the town, sometimes even before they knew themselves.

“Bucky managed to break the rope swing and I found out yesterday night that Carol and Valk made out at Tony’s party.”

Willow’s jaw dropped and she turned to Natasha who just nodded in confirmation.

“Remind me to never be late again!”

Wanda chuckled. “You know that never works.”

Willow looked shocked and shoved water her way, accidentally imitating a full blown water fight. It sprayed everywhere, even soaking Steve’s clothes that were folded the closest to the water’s edge. They all panted hard, the laughter breaking out amongst them not helping them to catch their breath. Eventually everyone retired back to the tree, lounging around in the bathing suits in the comfort of the shade.

Natasha leaned up against the bark and stretched her legs out in front of her, to which Willow immediately seized her spot on Natasha’s thighs, resting her head on her plush skin. Her wet hair felt slightly gross but the redhead didn’t mind, only smirking down at her whenever their eyes met. Willow flung one arm over her face to try and shield the sun. What a stupid day to forget sunglasses.

Snacks were shared around; hard candies, chips, cola and several boxes of fruit courtesy of Steve’s mother. Willow sucked on a cherry flavoured lollipop and blinked up at Natasha, her lashes still dark from the water. Natasha gritted her teeth and pulled the red candy out of her girlfriend’s mouth, wiping the smirk clean off her face.

“I know you know what you’re doing,” she said, waving the treat in front of her face. But Willow just raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth, laying her red stained tongue flat against her bottom lip and chin. The others didn’t pay attention to the two girls, very much used to their way of flirting.

“You are unbelievable,” Natasha gave in and pressed the round lollipop against Willow’s tongue, much to the brunette’s delight. She wrapped her lips around it and hollowed her cheeks, never once breaking eye contact. “Stop it.”

Willow shrugged but couldn’t hide her smile so she sat up and settled between Nat’s legs, tugging her arms around her waist so they rested together on her stomach.

“You guys want one?” Wanda reached into the front pocket of her backpack and pulled out three joints, holding them like a winning set of cards in poker. Steve quickly shook his head, never one to dabble in that. Bucky accepted, as did Natasha, classically.

“Thanks Wands,” Natasha said as she accepted the joint, holding it out for the other girl to light. “Wanna shotgun me, baby?”

Willow did not need to be told twice. She placed her lollipop back in the wrapper for safe keeping and straddled Nat’s lap, waiting for her to inhale. She opened her mouth and accepted the smoke that Natasha pushed into it, goosebumps igniting along her damp skin at the hand now placed on the curve of her lower back. She exhaled away from Natasha’s face and tilted her head up to the sky, letting out another breath.

They shotgunned a few more hits before Willow tapped out, the light buzzy feeling in her head enough for now. Her father would go crazy if he knew she was smoking like this so she had to keep it to a minimum when he was home. Plus, her high came from watching Natasha take her own hits, the joint resting casually in her fingers as she rested back against the tree trunk. She was so effortlessly cool that Willow just wanted to kiss her and never stop.

“You’re all going to Tony’s again later, right?” Wands asked, only to be met with a host of nods. Being seventeen and on summer break meant no responsibilities and more parties. And whilst Tony was a stuck up asshole, he did host the best parties, no questions asked.

“I can get my sister to give us lifts home if you need?” Bucky offered, snuffing out his joint and leaning back on his elbows. If Willow ever thought about dating a guy, his physique would have her drooling, but now she just appreciated it like any normal person would.

“Please!” She said. “No one is getting out of drinking tonight. I didn’t steal a bottle of cherry schnapps for nothing.” One bottle from her father’s shelf wouldn’t be missed, right? “Are you selling tonight?” This was directed at Wanda who just shrugged nonchalantly.

“Probably. The crowds are big enough there and they’re all rich enough so I can really overcharge.” The typical hippie, Wanda sold weed at many of the parties, the floral bag tied around her hips far from an innocent coin purse. “If I make big then we are hitting the carnival next week hard!”

“That’s next week?” Willow asked, her eyes widening in surprise. The days all blurred into one during summer and she wasn’t even sure what day it was today. But it didn’t matter to her. “Steve, you are going down at Bucket Ball.” She narrowed her eyes and he did the same

“You’re sure about that?”

“Deathly.” Willow was never serious and her smile broke her focus, making her lose the rather short game of no blinking. Steve just raised his hands in surrender and Willow leaned back against Natasha’s bikini clad chest, muttering to herself about how she was going to beat him.

The group lounged around in the sun until it slowly began to set. Willow slipped her shorts on over her still damp bikini but stuffed her top into her backpack, really not bothered about how little clothing she had on. And Natasha definitely didn’t complain. They all pedalled home to their separate locations except Willow and Natasha, who made a quick pitstop at the Romanoff household so Nat could grab her clothes and everything else she needed to get ready. Willow sat on the curb with her legs outstretched, tapping the toes of her shoes together as she waited for Nat. Her hair had dried a frizzy, curly mess but she really didn’t care.

Natasha came running out five minutes later, her backpack a lot more full than it was before. They hopped on their bikes and raced each other back to Willow’s, Nat winning by a fraction of second. It wasn’t fair really, she was on the closest side of the road.

Their bikes were abandoned on the front lawn before they both raced up the front steps, giggling like children as they crashed into the house. Nat grabbed Willow by the waist and kissed her cheek and nose before darting in the kitchen and leaving behind a blushing mess of a girl.

Mrs Jenkins was hunched over a chair and trying unsuccessfully to get a pouty four year old to each the crackers on his plate. Willow’s little brother was adorable and his eyes lit up as Natasha gave him a small wave as she entered.

“Hi Mrs Jenkins, Hi Elliot,” she said, taking a seat on the bench under the window. “How are you?”

“Oh Natasha, how many times have I told you to call me Nancy! We are far past those formalities.” She always greeted the young girl with a tight hug and it truly was one of Natasha’s favourite greetings. The woman was so soft and warm, so maternal, and she really tried to savour the hugs she received. “I’m good, thank you dear. You’re looking well, such rosy cheeks.”

Natasha smiled and ducked slightly behind her hair, subconsciously hiding behind her hair. “Willow and I had a race back here and it’s already super hot outside, as you know. Elliot’s grown so fast! You’re such a big boy already!”

Nancy smiled fondly at her son and stroked his blonde hair back away from his forehead, having given up on making him eat his snack. He was fixated on Natasha, as usual, so any attempts she made were fruitless.

“He’s growing up too fast, that’s for sure.” Both women laughed. “Can you believe he’ll be five by the end of summer?”

Natasha shook her head and crossed her legs beneath her. “I remember when he was a baby and Willow would always complain about how much he cried.” Nancy looked as if to say ‘that’s about right’. “I’m always available to babysit him if you need me to.”

“Your mother is so lucky to have you, Natasha. I need to know where I went wrong with this one.” She jabbed her thumb over at Willow who had hopped up onto the counter and taken an apple from the fruit bowl beside her. She was oblivious to the fact that she was being talked about and crunched happily before biting a small piece off to pass to her brother in front of her. Typical. Of course he accepted food from her.

“You didn’t go wrong anywhere with her,” Natasha said in a softer tone, enamoured by how gentle Willow was with her baby brother. She was a wild soul but that suddenly switched when she was around him and as much as Natasha loved the thrill of the whirlwind that was her girlfriend, her tender side was so special because it was so rare and real.

Mrs Jenkins glanced over her shoulder towards the living room with a wary look, making sure her husband was out of earshot. “Don’t let James hear me say this, but I’m glad you’re able to tame her. I was worried she’d never settle down but you’ve worked magic with her somehow.”

It was really hard being anything but heterosexual in this day and age, and to most people in the town, including Willow’s father Jameson, Natasha and Willow were nothing more than best friends. Their friendship group really didn’t care who dated who, and Willow’s mom was strangely accepting, but that was about the extent of it. Public displays of affection were certainly limited.

“I am here, you know? I can hear you.” The disgruntled girl spoke up.

“I know,” her mother replied. “And get off my counter, how many times have I told you?”

“But it’s comfy,” Willow muttered to herself as she reluctantly slid off and leaned against the cupboards instead.

“I don’t care. Chairs were invented for that reason. Even Elliot knows that.”

“Sure sure, compare me to the golden child, why don’t you.” She disappeared out of the kitchen and Nancy rolled her eyes lightly. She really could never win with Willow. Her stubborn nature could not be tainted, no matter how hard anyone tried.

“There’s a party later so I should probably go and get ready,” Natasha said, looking for a reason to excuse herself. Nancy waved her on and told her that their dinner would be brought to Willow’s room once it was ready. Always looking after her children, and this extended to Natasha too, whenever she was around.

The crackly sound of Silver Springs rang gently through the record player as Willow dropped the needle and flipped onto her quilt, screwing up her pillow in her arms. Her bikini stuck to her skin uncomfortably but she barely noticed it. The way all the muscles in her back simultaneously relaxed as she lay down felt a lot better and she let out a small groan.

“Hey birdy,” Natasha said as she sat down on the bed beside her, tracing gentle shapes on the exposed skin of her back. “You’re the golden child to me, you know that, right?”

Wilow scrunched her nose up at the old nickname, having not heard it in years. Natasha started using it after Willow kept wearing tops with large sleeves that closely resembled wings, and it weirdly stuck.

“I don’t need to be the golden child,” she grumbled. “I’m leaving here as soon as I can, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Wherever you go, I go.” Natasha held out her pinky and linked with Willow’s, kissing their interlocked fingers softly. “I’ve always had a soft spot for rebellious girls.”

“Well don’t let my father hear you say that.”

Double checking that the bedroom door was indeed closed, Natasha leaned down and pressed her lips to Willow’s and cupped her jaw, guiding her in a kiss that left them both breathless. It was only quick, that’s all they could do. A heavy make out would be saved for later that evening, in some closed off room in Tony’s house where they could be alone with each other for as long as they wanted. And no interruptions.

“We wouldn’t want him to know how much of a blushing mess I make his daughter.”

Willow smirked and reached her hand up to stroke Natasha’s freckled cheek. “He’d kill you with his bare hands. And then probably send me to a nunnery or boarding school in Switzerland.”

“My birdy, a nun? Pigs will fly before that could ever be a possibility.” Willow opened her mouth to speak and then realised Natasha was indeed right, and she didn’t like that. Hooking her legs around Nat’s hips, their bodies swiftly flipped over so Willow was now on top and she smiled cockily before climbing off her completely and wandering over to her window.

“He probably wishes there’s somewhere that would turn me into a son that he can manipulate into taking over the family business,” she muttered, mainly to herself but Natasha still heard her words over the music. The way Willow was treated by her father was unfair, but unfortunately common. Jameson Jenkins didn’t get a first born son who could help him run the shop, so he resented his daughter from the moment she was born. And her fiery spirit certainly didn’t help her case either.

“If that was the case, then we’d cease to exist. Because as much as I like you, I could not date a guy.” There was an underlying seriousness to Nat’s words and she gently took Willow’s hand, looking over every detail on the face she could draw in her sleep. “I benefit from his loss, really.” There was a sparkle in Natasha’s eyes and Willow couldn’t help but laugh. That girl always knew how to make light of a dire situation.

“Have fun with that thought whilst I go shower.” Natasha dropped her hand and watched her leave before wandering over to the old crate that Willow used to store her records. The more well played ones donned dog eared covers, and Natasha sifted through these to find what she was looking for. Despite her love for Fleetwood Mac, Natasha was forever a Zeppelin and Hendricks girl, and the opening riff of ‘Fool in the Rain’ had her grinning madly as it cracked away on the record player.

Spinning and dancing around the room on her toes, the redhead made her way over to Willow’s closet and sifted through the clothes, deciding that she would be the one to pick what her girl would be wearing to the party. A brown mini skirt caught her eye and she tossed it onto the bed behind her, a few more items following quickly in its wake.

Trusty bell bottoms to match her own, a pair of flared striped pants, a few of the cross over tops that Willow was so obsessed with, and a denim jumpsuit that had Natasha biting her lip. It looked small on the hanger and she knew instantly how good it would hug her curves, and the halter neck and open back still daring enough to suit Willow’s madness.

All the other clothes seemed mediocre in comparison and Natasha quickly placed them back in the closet, leaving her new favourite item of clothing hanging casually on the doorknob. Her own outfit hung opposite to avoid wrinkles and even without seeing them on she knew they’d be looking hot tonight.

The bedroom door opening behind her made her jump and Willow poked her head around it sheepishly, her wet hair falling over her shoulder. “Did I hit you?”

“No, you just scared me.”

Willow hummed and grabbed the comb from her dresser to start painstakingly detangling her curls. Clad in nothing but a faded old oversized surfing tshirt courtesy of Wanda’s many trips around the world, Natasha had a hard time pulling her eyes away from the bare expanse of Willow’s legs. They were still damp from her shower and her skin looked so soft she just-

“Stop staring and go shower. You smell like the river and it’s bad.” Willow smirked at Natasha through the mirror in front of her and the redhead glared but disappeared into the bathroom anyway without another word.

Willow opened the large windows on the far side of her bedroom to allow the evening breeze to flow into her room. Golden hour had begun and it basked her room in a gorgeous orange glow, catching on the coloured glass shards that were strung up around her mirror.

Her mother slipped a tray of pasta and vegetables through her door which Willow gratefully accepted and sat cross legged on her floor to begin eating. Call her weird, but one of the best feelings was the way her hair slowly dried in the warm breeze. It was just so calming, so relaxing.

Natasha returned ten minutes later and they quickly ate, chatting and gossiping between each mouthful. Her father poked his head through the door to grunt a quick hello, but Y/n didn’t entertain that so he swiftly left. Natasha just smiled politely when he acknowledged her presence.

“I see you already picked out my outfit,” Willow said as her fork hovered by her lips. A tomato fell off but she didn’t bother trying to retrieve it so Natasha quickly swiped it up. “I like it.”

“Me too. And I’m not in the mood to watch you try on twenty different outfits, no matter how hot you look in them all.” Willow shot her a look and blew a stray curl out of her face. “Don’t give me that, birdy, you know that’s exactly what would have happened.”

“Maybe I am like my father, because he hates smartasses too!” She jabbed her fork in Natasha’s direction, bearing her teeth at the laughing redhead leaning against the legs of her vanity.

“You won’t hate me when I’m done with you,” Natasha answered, suddenly jumping up and pulling Willow over to the bed. “Lie down, I want to do your makeup.” Natasha pushed her down onto the bed and straddled her lap, grabbing her makeup pouch that had been tossed onto the comforter. Willow didn’t protest, or rather she couldn’t, not with Natasha’s body weight pinning her down.

The record had stopping playing but neither of them moved to flip it over, so the sounds of squeals and laughter drifted in through the open window, families spending their summer evenings in their spacious back yards. Willow closed her eyes as Natasha swiped her brush over her lips, her tongue poking out in concentration.

Nat didn’t add much makeup, not wanting to take away from her sunkissed natural beauty. A small smear of blush, some orange and brown on her lids and a stroke of mascara. Subtle, but just enough to highlight her best features.

The redhead sat back on Willow’s thighs and admired her handiwork, nodding to herself with her lip pulled between her teeth. “Not bad, not bad.”

“Not bad?” Willow exclaimed, her eyebrows shooting to. “Natasha you better not have mucked up my face!”

“Better see for yourself.” She moved to the side so Willow could race over to her mirror, expecting to see an absolute wreckage judging by Natasha’s reaction. But what she found was the simplest yet most effective make up look she’d had in a long time and she closed one eye to examine the soft orange hue.

“Nat, this looks so cool! Don’t scare me like that again.” She turned around with her hands on her hips, head cocked to the side.

“I’m sorry, but your reactions just make it so much fun.” Their relationship was full of jokes and banter, bouncing off each other with smart remarks and quick comebacks. That’s how they managed to pull off the best friend card so well. They really were the best of friends.

Willow flipped the record and they both finished getting ready, wriggling into their outfits and touching up their hair as the cherry print alarm clock on Willow’s bedside table kept reminding them how late they were.

Natasha had blow dried her hair so it now tumbled around her shoulders in voluminous waves, combined with her dark winged eye liner and dark red top to make Willow pause with a hair tie between her teeth.

“Please never stop wearing those jeans,” was all she said before turning back to the mirror to finish pinning up her rather messy half up style. Willow had let them air dry so they were not uniformed at all, but the unruly look suited her far better.

“These?” Natasha turned to the side and smoothed her hands over her butt, frowning at the way the tight back material hugged her figure. “Are you sure it’s not too much?”

“Never.” Willow didn’t even turn around. Asking Nat to wear the jeans was purely a selfish move and she would stand by that until her dying day. “Can you grab my shoes?”

“Sneakers or heels?” Natasha held up a red pair of platform heels that complimented her top nicely but Willow turned her nose up. “Sneakers it is.”

“I pick comfort any day.” Hair done, lips glossed, sneakers laced, they ran down the stairs at the sound of a honk, Willow smuggling the bottle of cherry schnapps inside her jacket that she was going to ditch the moment they got into the car.

Bucky waved from the passenger seat as the girls sprinted across the lawn, leaping over their bikes that they’d thrown down earlier. Willow climbed into the back and Natasha followed, pulling the cab door shut of the red Ford F250.

“You ladies look good,” Bucky’s sister, Becca, called out. She worked in the mechanic shop on the edge of town and was a few years older than the rest of them but still knew how to have a good time. Plus she was the only one with a fully functioning car after Steve totalled his at a stop sign.

“Thanks, Bec. You don’t look so bad yourself Bucky.”

The man in question tugged at the collar of his shirt proudly. “What can I say, decided to make the effort. We won’t be this young forever.”

Willow and Nat shared a look before they started chuckling. “You sound like an old man.”

“Sometimes I think he is,” Becca agreed, smiling at the girls in her mirror.

“Does that mean you need picking up at ten tonight?” Natasha teased, knowing full well that the time was nine pm. She just loved to rile him up.

“Can we kick them out here?” Bucky asked as they pulled up to a stop light. “Just open the door and make them walk the rest of the way?”

“No, but you can walk if you want to.” The downside of having an older sister… she always sided with everyone else. Bucky sank into his seat and muttered under his breath, disgruntled. Or, that was until Willow waved a bottle in front of his face.

“Don’t be sad, it’s party time. You get the first sip.” He craned around to smile at her before untwisting the cap and taking a rather big gulp from the bottle. The taste wasn’t the best but he took another sip before handing it back. Natasha was next, knocking back hers like a true professional. “Ok please leave some for me!”

“Don’t worry birdy, I will.”

Willow seized her bottle from Natasha’s grip and tucked it between the door and her body, away from everyone. “Bec, I would offer you some but I don’t want to be dragged down with you if you get pulled over. I wouldn’t be allowed to see Wanda ever again.” Wanda’s father was a cop, which was ironic considering the illegal activities his daughter was the centre of right under his nose.

“You’re all good, Willow. I don’t know how you kids drink that stuff.”

Willow sank back against her seat, the leather sticking to her exposed back. “It’s definitely a Barnes thing, this ‘old person’ talk,” she muttered to Natasha who snorted. “You’d think I was visiting my grandparents.”

“I can hear you, you know.”

“Good. Glad to see your old age hasn’t affected your hearing.” If Becca wasn’t driving she would have reached behind and slapped Willow, who definitely deserved it. Her cocky smirk in triumph was infuriating to say the least and Natasha was thoroughly entertained.

Luckily for them, the Stark’s long drive came into view and the truck started to crawl up the gravel driveway, bumping over the uneven ground.

Tony Stark lived on the largest estate in the town. His parents were both in business and spent a large part of their year in the city, leaving their house and land to the questionable hands of their twenty year old son. Whether they knew of what went on whilst they were away, nobody knew, but Tony’s parties were unbeatable and unmissable.

The three of them piled out of the truck and waved goodbye to Becca before they assessed the scene in front of them. There were people everywhere; some they recognised, some they didn’t. But the unfamiliar faces didn’t deter them and Willow slipped her fingers into Natasha’s as they walked into the main entrance.

With the warm summer night air, the sound of good music and dancing, and Natasha right by her side, Willow felt on top of the world. She hated the small town life but wouldn’t trade this summer for the world.

[soulkeeper801]

Safe place - Twice Sana

Requested: Reader has always been someone who doesn’t let others see or know how she’s truly feeling(in terms of sadness and negative emotions) even when it comes to her girlfriend Sana. But, after an incident(you can choose…something really angsty preferably no death tho) Sana tries to get her to open up which leads to an argument and reader eventually breaking down.

Words: 1.6k

Angst? Fluff/Comfort

Sana x idol!f!reader (Y/N's group is disbanding)

“So the group is stopping all activities that were ready for the rest of the year,” one of the directors said, closing the file he was holding in his hands and giving a glance at where you were, “we’ve tried many things and not one of them have worked. I’m sorry, girls,” he continued, her gaze now filled with a hint of pity, “but we can’t do anything else, the project is over”.

You knew this would happen sooner or later. You thought you had prepared yourself to hear those words yet when they touched your ears your heart broke in a million pieces. The one thing you had worked hard for years was ending suddenly, leaving you with nothing else. 

What were you supposed to do now?

“We’ll find a way,” you whispered to one of your members as you saw her hold back tears.

There was no way.

You could only give them faint hopes to fight for what was left but deep down you knew it was really over.

The ride home was silent.

No one dared to say a word, knowing very well that it was probably one of the last times you would be together in the van that got you to places that only feeded hopes that never blossomed.

“Are you having dinner with me, baby?” a text lighted up your phone screen.

And it somehow lightened up your mood at least for a second.

“I might be late, love,” you replied.

“I’m buying take out on my way home, I’ll wait for you,” she texted one more time and you left out a deep sigh.

Sana was your number one supporter. Always getting in trouble with her own company just to promote you and your group. 

But not even that could save you.

As the van pulled up to your apartment building, the somber mood inside was hard to shake. You and your fellow group members slowly filed out, each lost in their own thoughts. 

The weight of the failed project pressed heavily on your shoulders, and the uncertainty of the future was overwhelming.

When you entered your apartment, you couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness. The walls adorned with posters and memories of your group's journey served as a painful reminder of what was now lost. 

As soon as they went to sleep, you made your way out to Sana’s apartment. It was something they all knew you would do and as always, they made sure no one would notice you were gone.

“I got your favorite,” Sana said when she saw you crossing the door frame with your spare key, “you must be so tired,” she continued, getting close to you and embracing you in a tight hug.

A hug that served not only as a welcome but also as the comfort you were looking for. 

You hated to be seen as vulnerable, not in control of your own feelings and emotions so you always wore a cool mask to protect yourself. You held back all the tears that had pooled on your eyes as soon as Sana’s warmth covered you.

“You still have glitter on your hair,” she chuckled, taking a strain of bright color from your hair and shoulders but her eyes lingered a little longer on your features. She knew you too well. “Everything alright?” 

Your gaze immediately went to the floor, there was no way you could lie at her while looking at her eyes. “Yeah,” you trailed off, trying to talk about anything else but the thing that was making you feel miserable. “What do we have for dinner?” you asked, taking a step towards the kitchen counter where the paper bags were placed.

Sana let you go but followed you closely with her eyes. Something was off.

As you unpacked the takeout containers on the kitchen counter, Sana leaned against the doorway, her concern evident in her gaze. She knew you better than anyone else and could tell when something was bothering you, no matter how hard you tried to hide it.

You both sat down at the small dining table, and the atmosphere in the room felt heavy with unspoken emotions. The aroma of the food filled the air, but neither of you had much of an appetite.

Sana finally broke the silence, her voice soft and understanding. "You can talk to me, you know. I can see that something's bothering you. You don't have to pretend everything's okay."

“It’s okay,” you lied one more time. Sana didn’t need to know what was happening. Your problems were yours to deal with and she didn’t have to be bothered. “This soup is amazing, where is it from?”

Sana smiled sadly. Didn’t you trust her enough?

“That Japanese place that opened last week,” she replied quietly, taking a spoonful herself to confirm what you were saying.

“We should buy from there more often,” you continued, trying to bring the conversation to a shallow topic. “Not a lot of new businesses around lately, huh?”

You lifted your gaze to find Sana looking intently at you. She had left her spoon on the side of her plate as she studied your expression looking for answers.

“Not a lot,” she replied, waiting patiently for you to go at your own pace, to process whatever was going through your mind until it was the right time for you to come forward.

Silence fell upon you two once again. You didn’t know but Sana couldn’t keep her eyes away from you. 

Usually, you would tell her all about your day. Where you girls went to record, what kind of food the team got you, if anything fun happened, you would tell every detail of it. 

Sana knew how much it excited you to be in this industry and how passionate you were about your job.

So it felt weird for her to have you dejected and silent during the little time you had to share everything with each other.

Sana finally broke the silence, her voice soft and understanding. "You can talk to me, baby. I can definitely see that something's wrong. You can trust me.”

You sighed, realizing that there was no point in keeping up the facade with Sana anymore. She had been your rock through all the highs and lows of your journey with the group, and you trusted her with all your soul.

“The group’s over,” were the words that left your lips.

And you felt the world crumbling around you. Saying it out loud made it ten times realer and it broke you down.

“Oh, Y/N,” Sana breathed out, reaching for you to bring you into a comforting hug.

Once again, her warmth made you feel safe but this time you let it all out, letting the tears fall freely from your eyes as your shoulders shook from the heavy sobs you weren’t able to control.

Sana held you close, offering the comfort you so desperately needed. She didn't say anything; she simply held you, letting you pour out all the pent-up emotions that had been festering inside you. 

Her gentle presence was a balm for your wounded soul, and for the first time in a while, you didn't have to pretend to be strong.

As you cried in Sana's embrace, she whispered soothing words and reassurances. Her hand gently rubbed your back in a comforting rhythm, and she let you take all the time you needed to let it out.

After what felt like an eternity, your sobs began to subside, and you pulled away from Sana's embrace, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand. You felt emotionally drained but also a strange sense of relief. Finally sharing your pain with someone who understood made the burden a little lighter.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” you said, a little calmer after having cried for several minutes. “The group was all that I had”.

“That’s not true,” she replied, putting a strand of your hair behind your ear to look at your face better, “You have your talent,” she assured, “you have your passion and you have the girls who I’m sure also want to continue with this path,” she continued.

She looked at you with adoration in her eyes.

“You all will leave the company after the contract is terminated so you can get together and start again as a group somewhere else,” she proposed. 

You stared at Sana, her words slowly sinking in. The idea of starting anew with your group members, away from the constraints of the company that had just let you go, was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"But where would we even begin?" you asked, uncertainty still lingering in your voice.

Sana's smile grew brighter, filled with determination. "There will be a way. I believe in you, in all of you. You have the talent, the passion, and the dedication. You can build something incredible together, something that's truly yours."

Her unwavering support gave you a glimmer of hope in this otherwise dark moment. It was a daunting prospect, but the thought of creating music and art with your friends, free from corporate limitations, was a dream worth chasing.

You looked at her and her smile gave you hope. She leaned in to hold your face in her hands and instinctively you closed your eyes. Sana always knew what to say to make you feel better, to make you feel protected and safe when everything was crumbling down. 

“I believe in you,” she repeated, leaving a soft kiss on your lips that lingered for a couple of seconds, “I can’t wait to see all the success you’re about to have”.

You nodded at her words, reloaded with a new sense of motivation. 

As you leaned on Sana's shoulder, you realized that even when one chapter ends, another can begin. You had the talent, the passion, and, most importantly, the unwavering support of someone who believed in you. 

With a grateful heart, you whispered, "Thank you, for everything," knowing that you were not alone in this journey.

[dilfspitdrinker]

Let The Light In | Joel Miller x reader

Description: You’ve been babysitting Joel Miller’s daughter all summer. No matter now much you try to deny it, you know you’re into him. But it’s just a little crush that you thought could never be reciprocated, until one fateful phone call. The shift between you two is irresistible, and you’re in for more than you ever anticipated. A/N: I love the babysitter trope lol, also pre outbreak Joel makes me feral. Basically, I couldn't resist writing and posting this, it's lived in the notes app for long enough. Masterlist Chapter 2

Chapter 1

You listened to the rings intently, praying that Joel would pick up the phone but dreading the moment he does.

The fresh night breeze swept over you the moment you swung open the door, exiting the frat house. You didn’t know when it had started raining, but you didn’t care, it was still better than the suffocating atmosphere inside.

Joel answered on the fourth ring, “Hey, is something wrong?” The worry in his voice was apparent, and you couldn’t help but feel a little pathetic for having to ask this.

“I’m so sorry to bother you Joel, I know it’s late but… do you think you could pick me up?”

Before you could even explain yourself, he responded, “Of course I can, where are you?”

You told him the address, watching people stumble out of the door. You wrapped an arm around yourself, as if that could shield you from the downpour.

“Alright darlin’, I’ll be right there, stay put.”

“Okay, please hurry, I’m hoping to leave without anyone noticing-“

Bursting out the door was the guy you came here with, his whole demeanor looking irritated and volatile. He caught your gaze and walked over to you, feigning a more cool attitude.

“Hey, that’s where you went! Come on, the party’s inside,” he tried tugging you along, but you took a step back.

“I’ll be right in, I’m talking to one of my friends,” you attempted a smile, desperate to not provoke his anger.

He raised an eyebrow, “Your friend a chick?”

In a split second you decided that maybe you shouldn’t give any indication that you’re actually asking a grown ass man to come get you. The only response you could manage: “Yeah.”

“Cool, tell her to pull up,” he started walking back towards the door, “and hurry up, I got a drink waiting for you babe.”

Only after he closed the door did you go back to your phone conversation. “Sorry about that.”

“Who was that?” Joel’s voice turned low and serious.

“The guy I came here with,” you sighed, embarrassed.

“Why’re you hanging around assholes like that?”

“I don’t know, I have a class with him and he randomly started talking to me and he didn’t seem so douchey at first. But I should’ve known he’d be the same as every other frat boy,” you rambled, excluding how he’d been trying to get you to drink since the minute you two showed up.

Joel’s tone softened a bit, “Don’t beat yourself up darlin’. Nothin’ wrong with trying to see the good in others, but that doesn’t mean you should overlook the negatives, either. I’m almost there, alright?”

He’d have to be going at least 20 over the speed limit to be almost here. You were about to insist that he slow down, be careful, if you’re gonna get me I need you to actually make it here. But the rain stopped you from protesting as the chill seeped into your bones. About an hour ago it was such a warm night, you decided to forgo a jacket. Heavily regretted that now as your clothes and hair quickly got soaked.

A few anxious and cold minutes later, a pair of headlights finally approached. You cut through the lawn to meet him as the black pick up truck rolled up next to the crowded driveway.

“Hey darlin’,” he greeted you as you climbed in. God, you poor thing, you looked like a wet puppy, it made him want to wrap you in a warm blanket and scoop you up.

“Hi Joel. Thank you so much for getting me, I know it’s late.”

“It’s no inconvenience to me, I was still awake anyway,” he glanced over at you, adding, “And I’m glad you know that I got you whenever you need me.”

You nodded, suppressing a smile. Once your seatbelt was on, he drove away, and a sense of relief washed over you.

You’d been babysitting Joel’s daughter Sarah all summer, and in that time you and Joel had really grown fond of each other. Not that either of you showed it much. He was your employer, and at least 10 years older than you anyway. At best, you figured he thought of you as family. Still, you didn’t want to push it, since it would be all too easy for the lines to get blurry, and you both knew that. But he clearly cared deeply for you, and would often remind you to call if you need anything, anytime. And tonight was the occasion. You’d only convinced yourself to dial Joel’s number by telling yourself that there wasn’t really anyone else you could call. You were still new to Austin, and hadn’t made any solid friends yet this early in the semester. Sarah was pretty much your best friend now, and Joel…

It was a conscious effort to keep him at arms length.

He broke the silence, “So, I didn’t really think frat parties were your thing.”

“They’re not. I was barely there for an hour and already looking for a way to leave,” you laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t know what I was thinking. At least I knew not to drink anything.”

“Very smart. Good job looking out for yourself there.” You noticed the way his calloused hands gripped the wheel. “That guy, does he know where you live?”

“Yeah,” you swallowed, thinking of the same worst case scenarios.

He paused for a minute, hoping this wouldn’t come out the wrong way, “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do. I don’t want you staying at your place alone tonight. You can stay at mine, I’ll set up the pull out couch.”

The truck came to a stop at an otherwise deserted intersection. A left would lead to his place, continuing straight would take you to yours.

He turned to you, “What do you think?”

The suggestion caught you off guard. The thought of sleeping at his place filled you with a sort of nervous excitement, like you were about to do something you shouldn’t. It definitely felt like you’d be overstepping a very delicate boundary. But he offered, so it would be no harm, right?

“I just want to make sure you’re safe,” he added, voice earnest.

The light turned green. He waited for your response.

“Sounds good,” you nodded.

The truck took a left turn, and you two were silent for the rest of the ride.

At his house, you stood in the living room, feeling strangely out of place. You had been here so many times to look after Sarah, but being here without that purpose made you feel like an awkward guest.

Placing his keys on the coffee table, Joel said without looking at you, “Alright, you go take a shower, warm up. Take as long as you need.”

The statement made you red in the face, but you weren’t about to refuse. You’d had a shitty night, you needed this.

In the bathroom, you winced at yourself in the mirror. You were a bit of a mess, and became newly embarrassed that Joel had to see you so disheveled. Your hair was soaked from the rain, and you knew that would make it dry all frizzy. Couldn’t hurt to wash it, even though that would take some extra time… Joel did just tell you to take as much time as you need. But you already felt a little opportunistic for agreeing to stay the night at his house, you didn’t want to take advantage of his hospitality by hiking up his bills. You sighed at your reflection. Your clothes were dark with rainwater, and peeling them off made you shiver. Take as long as you need echoed in your mind. The way his voice had turned so gentle made you shiver too.

You turned the knob until the water was nice and steamy. Sweet relief. Felt like a warm hug. Don’t think about Joel hugging you. You took a look at the shampoo options. A bright pink bottle with a unicorn on it, obviously Sarah’s. Smelled like an artificial fruit salad. The bottle next to it was dark green, the label declaring cypress and mint. You went with that one, trying to ignore the fact that it’s Joel’s shampoo. Something about that felt a little too intimate.

Then came two gentle knocks at the door, followed by his voice, “I set out some dry clothes for you in my room. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready.”

You sighed contently. You scrubbed your hair clean, soap and worries washing down the drain.

His room was right next to the bathroom, and out of sight from the kitchen. Wrapped in a towel, you scampered over to the bedroom.

There you saw some folded clothes set on the corner of the bed. Somehow it didn’t occur to you before that it would be his clothes. You slipped on the sweatpants, the extra fabric bunching around your ankles. The sleeves of the hoodie covered your hands entirely. Not allowing yourself to indulge your fantasies, instead you were a little mortified about this whole situation. You almost didn’t want to step out there and face him. But you had to, thinking it would be weird if you stayed in his room any longer.

As if to avoid creating a disturbance, you treaded lightly down the hall and rounded the corner into the kitchen. He was sitting at the small dining table, and quickly lifted his eyes.

He could hardly believe the sight before him. His clothes hanging loosely off your shoulders and hips. Hair still damp, framing your face. Straight out of his daydreams. Every time you came to look after Sarah, he secretly loved your little outfits and hairstyles, but you’ve never looked this good.

“Can I throw these in the dryer?” you asked, holding the bundle of your wet clothes.

His voice caught in his throat for a moment, “Of course-“

You already turned to do it yourself before he could offer. In the minute you were away, he noticed his heart beating faster than it should, and scolded himself.

Returning to the table, you eyed a plate of food that you hadn’t noticed before. “What’s all this?” you asked.

“Uh, sorry, it’s just leftovers, but I figured you might want something warm.”

You looked at him tenderly, voice soft, “Oh, Joel. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Taking a seat, you noticed that he sure was of course-ing all over the place tonight. You stared down at the reheated chicken and rice, wondering if he was uncomfortable.

From the corner of your eye, you saw the way he leaned in before asking, “You alright?”

You smiled a little, “Yeah, I just feel kinda bad for making you take me in.”

“You’re not makin’ me do anything.”

You lifted your eyes to meet his. God his eyes were gorgeous, just his stare was enough to charm you.

“Any plans for the rest of the weekend?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“Well if you’re not busy studying, I’m sure Sarah would would love to have you around. I’ll be here too, but I’ll still pay you.”

“You paying me just to hang around now?” you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning.

He chuckled, shaking his head. You finished your plate while you two talked about Sarah, her new friends, her plight with fractions. This felt more familiar, more comfortable.

He frowned, “Lately when I’ve been dropping her off at school, some boy is always there waitin’ to say hi.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that Joel. They’re like 12.”

“I know, it just gets me thinking about what it’ll be like when she’s in high school.”

“Cross that bridge when you get there.”

He sighed. “I just wish I knew what to expect.”

In that moment, you realized that this might be his roundabout way of opening up to you. You could only imagine how difficult it must be to navigate single fatherhood, especially having a daughter.

He cleared his throat. “I know this is none of my business, and you’re right, I don’t need to be worrying about it yet, but… do you have any boy advice for me?”

You laughed, maybe a little too loud, “You’re asking the wrong person, Joel. I’m not super experienced in that field.”

A playful glint appeared in his eyes that you’d never seen before. “What? Come on now, you’re too pretty to not have at least 10 boyfriends.”

You caught that, but shook your head.

“You tellin’ me you weren’t prom queen?”

“I was too dorky for that,” you waved him off.

“Well,” he leaned back in his chair, and your eyes skimmed over his broad shoulders, “here’s my boy advice for you.”

“I’m listening,” you grinned.

“Don’t hang around boys.”

“Gotcha,” you nodded, “so you’re saying I should go after men.”

He caught that, but dodged the implication. “Well, I’m sayin’ most of these college guys are still boys in here,” he tapped on his forehead.

“You’re telling me.”

He grabbed your now empty plate, and announced while placing it in the sink, “The room’s all yours when you’re ready.”

You looked at him with confusion across your face.

He motioned toward the hall, in the direction of his bedroom.

It finally dawned on you, he meant he’s going to sleep on the couch. Immediately you protested, “Joel. Come on. I’m not taking your room, the couch is fine-“

“No, no, no. This is not up for debate,” he pointed at you, “You need a good night’s rest.”

“Joel I’ll sleep fine on the cou-“

“I’m not fightin’ you on this.”

You stared at each other for a moment, a stand off you knew you’d lose. You finally cracked under his unrelenting gaze, but had to make one last effort, “You’ve done more than enough for me tonight.”

“I’d do damn near anything for you,” he couldn’t stop himself from confessing, but he almost didn’t care if it meant you’d take his bed. He’d never admit it, not even to himself, but he wanted you there, and not just because it was courteous to offer. To know that you were wrapped in his sheets, head cradled by his pillow, your breath filling his space.

You let out a sigh, “Fine.”

“Good. Thought I’d have to drag you.”

You chuckled, and in your mind flashed an image of him picking you up and tossing you onto the bed, oh God he’s so strong he could do that so easily-

You banished the thought, pulling yourself back to reality, but another idea invaded your mind. “Thank you so much Joel. I really owe you for this.”

“You don’t owe me nothin’. I’m glad you know that I’m here for you.”

If this whole situation hadn’t already overstepped a boundary, this certainly would, but you really couldn’t help yourself. You took a step forward, pulling him into a hug. Every nerve in his skin suddenly became hypersensitive to the feeling of your hands on his torso, moving to his back. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, then froze. You smelled like him. You, in his clothes. You, with his scent. You, in his arms. He could only hope that his heart wasn’t beating too loud.

You pulled away from each other, hands lingering a second longer than necessary.

“Sleep tight, darlin’.”

“You too.”

“And sleep in as long as like.”

“Thank you.”

“Let me know if you want an extra blanket or anything-“

“Goodnight Joel,” you laughed, walking away from him finally.

When you closed yourself into his room, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

You both laid awake for a while, having the same doubts, ruminating on words, body language, tone, meanings that may or may not have indicated something else.

You tried to be objective. He’s naturally generous, kind hearted beneath a bit of a rough exterior. He was instinctually nurturing, look how devoted he is to his daughter. Besides, with her to look out for, he wouldn’t want some silly college girl. He takes his responsibilities as a father very seriously and as far as you knew, he avoided things and people that would disrupt her life.

You’re a sweet girl, he reasoned that you hugged him because that was your nature and nothing else. One night at his place didn’t mean anything beyond what it was: you called and he answered. He knew nothing would come of it, ridiculous to think anything would, really. Young, promising college students like you don’t go involving themselves with middle aged men with children, not unless the man was rich, which he definitely wasn’t.

These thoughts kept you both awake, so finally you each relented to the more hopeful side, even if it was just a fantasy to doze off to.

Cheek pressed against Joel’s pillow, surrounded by his scent, you sleepily indulged in the thought that he treated you special because he felt a special way for you. Maybe he’s even protective of you.

Hand tucked under a cushion, he entertained the idea of you knowing that you want a man who wouldn’t waste your time. Someone who has some real experience in the world and knows what they want.

He was starting to think that insisting you spend the night was the worst idea he’s ever had.

Chapter 2 Masterlist

[icycoldninja]

Hey love <3 it’s me again, and again I’m sorry if my English is bad hahah I promise I'm trying to improve.

I wanted to know if u could do a headcannon of the Sparda + V with a Fem Reader who has self-harm

It's something I've been going through for a long time and lately it's been a bit difficult for me to handle. I think it could be interesting to see how they would act in a situation like that and what their reaction would be, I feel like at least they wouldn't look at you so badly and they wouldn't judge u too much of the scars on your body haha ​​(cry 🕴️)

Again, if this may seem strange or something too inappropriate, u have every right to ignore it without a problem! 🛐 i really love ur writings 💞

Oh I'm so sorry to hear that. Thanks for requesting, and hopefully this lifts your spirits.

Sparda boys + V x Reader with self harm issues headcannons

Tw: Self harm

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante is the most supportive and loving partner you could hope for, always checking up on you and giving you hugs even when you don't think you need one.

-He doesn't judge your scars or ask you to hide them, if anything, he thinks they're beautiful.

-He will not hesitate to run in and stop you from hurting yourself, if he happens to catch you halfway in the act.

-He squashes you with cuddles and kisses, usually pinning you to the bed or couch to keep you from going anywhere.

-Kisses you all the time, every day, every night, sometimes even while you sleep. He loves you so much and wants you to know that.

-He will help you with your issues, always being there to listen to anything you might want to get out, or to calm you down when you're feeling particularly destructive.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil hates seeing you upset in any way, and while he's not really a touchy feely person, he wants to make you feel better.

-He does this by giving you motivating pep talks every time he has a chance to show you the foolishness behind your detrimental behavior.

-He also limits your access to sharp objects and otherwise dangerous tools.

-Sometimes, somehow, you find a way to break past his defenses and get your hands on a dangerous object, but Vergil will step in and keep you from bringing that object down on your flesh.

-He will then give you a stern, yet loving talking-to, expressing how much he loves you, and at the same time, how angry he is with you for allowing yourself to slip into darkness and depression so easily.

-Sometimes, however, his words backfire. Instead of lifting your spirits with inspiration, they make you feel worse, so he ends up cuddling you to sleep, silently begging for forgiveness and assuring you he loves you all at the same time.

□ Nero □

-Nero understands your struggles, but not how to help you.

-He knows the obvious stuff, to assure you of your self worth (cause you are worth it) and to limit your access to sharp objects.

-He spoils you with attention and affection whenever he's home, pulling you into his lap, cradling you while watching a movie, constantly kissing you as you drift off to sleep, etc.

-He will be there when you're at your lowest, even if he doesn't know what to do. He'll just sit there and hook his arm around you, letting you know he's there if you want to talk or anything.

-He isn't good at verbally comforting people, but he is a great listener, and listen he shall.

-Unload whatever you want on him, Nero will soak it all up like a sponge and then use that knowledge to figure out ways to help you more.

● V ●

-V doesn't judge anything, period.

-He doesn't make comments about your body, or your scars, or give you funny looks, or just treat you negatively in general.

-He loves you more than his own life and would do anything to keep you safe, loved, and happy.

-He won't let you bring any more harm to yourself. If he sees you do it or finds evidence that you have been doing it, he will take away your weapon and cling onto you tightly.

-He won't let go of you when you're cuddling because he's afraid you'll slip away and do something to yourself while he's asleep.

-He might not look it, but his grip is vice-like and he won't let go unless you pry him off of you with a crowbar.

[olives-and-sunshine]

i mean since you asked lol

how about a malcolm x reader (gender non specific preferred if possible!) where malcolm is just like not having a great day (case gone wrong/jessica being even more overbearing than usual/rough session with therapist etc) and close to having an absolute breakdown but reader does their best to try to help without infantilizing him? even the toughest profilers need cuddled and their foreheads kissed while being told they're doing their best :')

love you and ty!!

"Difficult Day" - Malcolm x GN!Reader

Word Count: 0.6k

Content and Warnings: No reader descriptions, the relationship between Malcolm was intentionally left to be ambiguous, 2nd person, no warnings, just hurt/comfort and fluff

A/N: Eeee my first request! I really enjoyed writing this <3 I hope you like it. Ft. me spreading my “Malcolm loves The Hogfather” propaganda 

Also sorry this was so late. School is a pain sometimes.

You knew something was wrong the moment Malcolm walked through the door of his loft. As Malcolm closed the door, he leaned forward against it, letting his forehead hit it softly with a light thunk. You turned from what you were doing on the couch to see him like that, your gaze softening slightly at the view of him.

“Hey,” you said softly, trying to avoid startling him, even though he knew you’d be there. He turned around and looked up.

“Hi,” he responded softly and smiled at you as he stripped off his coats and shoes. It wasn’t a fake smile, fortunately, but it was a soft half-hearted smile that almost immediately had fallen as soon as it had gotten there. Like he had smiled because he was grateful to see you, because he was happy that you were here, but that the negative emotions of whatever he was dealing with was simply too much, and that happiness was washed away. It broke your heart.

You got up and walked over to him, standing in front of him. All you did was open your arms slightly as a silent invitation for a hug if he wanted it. He immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, laying his head on your shoulder and gently nuzzling into your neck while holding you tightly. You quickly wrapped your arms around him and one of your hands went to stroke his hair. “You want to talk about it?” you asked softly, turning your head slightly to kiss his temple. 

He let out a shaky breath. “I… I don’t know. Today was just hard.”

“What do you need? We can just stand here, we can talk, or we can cuddle. We could even watch a movie and eat snacks. Even better, we can watch the Hogfather, I know how much you love it. We can’t watch all the movies in one go this time, sadly, but we can watch the first one. And, we even have red vines.”

His head perked up slightly at the sound of that. He pulled away to look at you with a slight look of excitement on his face. He obviously was still emotionally feeling raw, but it was an improvement and you’d take it. He smiled slightly, “I’ll grab the red vines and snacks, you’ll find the movie?”

“Of course,” you pulled away mostly, but lingered long enough to kiss his forehead. It was quick but gentle, a reminder that you were here for him. You walked over to the TV to set up the movie. “By the way, I already fed Sunshine and did some chores and cleaning, so you can just relax for the night,” You looked over your shoulder as you spoke, smiling lovingly.

Soon, Malcolm was curled up in your arms with his head on your chest and snacking on red vines as you laid on the couch and watched the movie. Sunshine was freely hopping around the living room and was preening herself. You looked down at Malcolm lovingly as you ran your hands through his hair, happy that he seemed more relaxed than before.

Malcolm looked up at you. “Thank you for this, I needed this,” he sighed. “Sometimes everything, my job, my parents, my past… It gets to be too much.”

You gently grabbed his hand that was starting to shake, holding it firmly but gently. “I know… But you’re doing your best, and I’m so proud of you, you know that?”

Malcolm teared up slightly, his eyes fluttering closed briefly when you kissed his forehead again.  You don’t know what happened or what goes through his mind most of the time, but you’re always here for him after a hard day to take his mind off it.