#bc its like u see their angst and where it comes from and it really is all so unfathomable

[sieglinde-freud]

i love laslow and nyx’s supports and i love how they go from trauma dump central in the b support

to making fun of their angst in the a

like theyre soooo lame and it makes me emo and every time i watch this support i kick my feet and twirl my hair theyre SOOOOOOO SICKENING. WHO WROTE THIS. WHOOOOOOO

[whytheylosttheirminds]

home for the holidays (part one) - r.c.

❄️ a frat!rafe cameron holiday mini series ❄️

summary a simple favor for a friend ends with you reluctantly bringing Rafe Cameron, resident campus fuckboy, home for the holidays. It’s gonna take more than a little mistletoe for him to win you over…

content “enemies” to lovers, copious amounts of flirting, eventual smut, a dash of familial angst, parental illness and mentions of parental death, 18+ mdni

Brodyyy <3: hey thanks again for offering to give me a ride back to nc for break!

You: ofc! anything for u after u gave me those o chem notes bestie

Brodyyy <3: i’m glad to hear ya say that…bc i have one more favor to ask

You: what’s up?

Brodyyy <3: one of my frat bros needs a ride back too, can he join?

You: does he live near us?

Brodyyy <3: he’s from obx but if you get us to my house I can take him the rest of the way in my mom’s car, so no extra driving for you!

You: yeah then i guess that’s cool!!

You: as long as i’m home before 6pm on the 21st i’m good

Brodyyy <3: cookie day?

You: exactly, u get me

Brodyyy <3: dw we’ll get you home in time for cookies! Tysm!

You: np!

You: what’s his name btw?

Brodyyy <3: …

You: *questioned* “what’s his name btw?”

Brodyyy <3: rafe

You: be so fr rn

You: as in cameron???

You: Brody, did u seriously invite rafe cameron to drive home with us??

Hour one

You could see your breath, fog filling the air with each shivering exhale as you pulled your coat tighter around your shoulders. Even after three-and-a-half years, you’d never gotten used to these North Eastern winters. The plan was to be well on your way towards a milder climate by now, but here you were, leaning against the open hatchback trunk of your car, desperately clutching your hot coffee as you waited for your friend to show up. With his friend. You rolled your eyes as you checked the time on your phone for the hundredth time, none of your many texts to Brody returned.

“Brody, I swear to god,” you mumbled under your breath, “five more minutes and I’m leaving your ass.”

Time ticked on without any sight of him. With a resigned sigh, you reached up to close the trunk.

“Hey wait up!” a voice called from behind you. You whipped around to find its owner.

Standing a few feet back on the sidewalk, sherpa lined corduroy jacket, backpack slung over his shoulder and obnoxiously handsome smirk painted on his face, was Rafe Cameron. Notorious playboy, frat president, and hands down your least favorite person on this campus. 

It wasn’t a big school, everyone knew Rafe Cameron. All of your friends had crushes on him, some of them even managed to hook up with him or have stories of making out with him at frat parties. Every Friday night, he popped up on every Insta story on campus, somehow everywhere at once, and yet your paths had never crossed directly. You were okay with that. You knew his type well enough.

“I’m Rafe,” he interjected when you didn’t greet him.

“I know,” you said dryly.

“My reputation precedes me?” He grinned, his slight southern drawl reminding you of home with a pang of nostalgia, until you remembered that this guy was from a completely different world than you.

“I wouldn’t be too proud of that,” you shot back, slamming the trunk closed. “Where’s Brody?”

Rafe usually gave people about ten seconds before he decided if he liked them or not. A lethal combination of impatience and general distrust that he disguised seamlessly under cocky confidence. Your arms were crossed in hostility as you frowned at him, even though he’d barely said two words to you. 

Ah yes, he knew exactly your type. You were that irritating brand of stuck up smart girl who always saw right through him. Sure, you were surprisingly really pretty, a fact Brody had forgotten to mention, but annoying nonetheless. He decided right then not to like you, since you so clearly had already decided not to like him. 

“He’s not coming,” Rafe informed you. “Didn’t he tell you?”

“No, he didn’t,” you huffed, “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he got a gig with a professor to be a research assistant, but he’s gotta stay on campus to do it,” he explained.

“He could’ve told me,” you rolled your eyes, checking the time again to calculate how far behind his no-show had made you. “I’m gonna have to adjust the schedule.”

“The schedule?” He cocked his head, picking up on the tightly wrinkled knot in your forehead as you pulled a folded piece of graph paper from your pocket.

It was color coded and intricate, every mile, every meal, every gas stop accounted for, down to the minute. You had a pencil in your hair, tucked neatly into your messy bun so you could pull it out quickly and make necessary changes, as you were doing now. You held the paper up against the side of your car, erasing and scribbling intensely as you recalculated the trip. 

“I need to be home by six at the latest, it’s nine now, that leaves only an hour for stops and traffic, we were supposed to leave at eight…” you looked up to eye him pointedly as you said the last part, silently blaming him for the delay as you did your mental math.

“Sorry to make you wait, I needed my beauty sleep,” he raised his hands in defense, lips curling back to display his shiny white smile. “You don’t think this all just happens naturally do you?” He gestured to his face.

You tucked the paper back into your pocket as you eyed him up and down, unimpressed and yet simultaneously beginning to understand why all your girlfriends had fallen so easily for this douchebag. He was handsome, sharp features permanently set in an arrogant smirk. His body was tall and lean yet built, enough that you could tell he was muscular even under all those layers. His dirty blonde hair sat messy over his forehead, sticking out at all angles in a way that made it clear he’d just woken up. 

But you were smart, life and your high IQ made you an expert in reading people. You could see right through him.

“I wasn’t waiting for you, I was waiting for Brody,” you shut him down. “And since he’s apparently not coming, I’m gonna hit the road,” you slammed the trunk closed, pulling your keys from your pocket and making your way to the driver’s side door.

You opened the door, fully intending to climb in and drive off on your own, but Rafe appeared quickly by your side, closing the door before you could climb in.

“Woah, woah, wait,” he said, his arm out next to your head to hold the door closed.

You scoffed at his boldness and stepped back, “uhm excuse me!”

“You’re excused,” he smirked down at you. “How am I gonna get home?”

“Greyhound station is that way,” you pointed over your shoulder, trying to push him out of the way of your door, but he was too sturdy to be moved. He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms, planting himself.

“I’d rather ride with you,” he flashed you a devilish grin you just knew he was used to throwing around like currency.

“Dude, can you just let me into my car?” You shut him down.

“What’s the magic word?” God, did this guy have a punchable face.

“Please,” you reluctantly let out through gritted teeth.

“Hmm, no,” he turned it back on you, planting his feet firmly on the ground, both of you knowing there was no way you were gonna be able to overpower his large frame.

“Okay seriously? I know you’re used to using your body to get what you want, but it’s not gonna work this time,” you were done fucking around, an invisible clock ticking in your mind while your trip was delayed even further by this jackass. “Get away from my car.”

“I will when you agree to give me a ride,” his lips twisted and his voice dropped, aimed down at you, “or we can keep standing here and talking about my body.”

You couldn’t help but blush, and he couldn’t help but like it. The embarrassment at the involuntary response only fueled your anger.

“Why would I do that? I don’t even know you,” it wasn’t entirely true, you knew more than you cared to know about him. Or at least, in this moment, you thought you did.

“Brody said you owe him a favor right? Do it for him,” he suggested.

“If he wanted to cash in on his favor, he should’ve been here himself.”

“Okay then, what if I paid for gas? What was Brody gonna do, go 50/50 with you? I’ll cover the whole trip,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick leather wallet, opening it to flash you his black card. 

You couldn’t help but also notice the polaroids tucked in the see-through pockets. On one side, what appeared to be a family photo; Rafe, an older man and two young girls smiling on a giant boat. On the other side, some sorority girls in bikinis, flashing the camera at a charity car wash. Who the fuck was this guy? 

“Brody was also gonna take you the rest of the way to the Outer Banks. I’m going west and there’s no way I’m getting on a ferry, how are you gonna get home?” You reasoned, though he could hear in your tone that you were starting to actually consider saying yes. 

Time to bring it home, he thought.

“I’ll figure it out. Just get me to the ferry and I’ll be fine. I’ll be eternally grateful, I’ll owe you a big favor. And I never do people favors.”

“The more you talk, the less I want to be stuck in a car with you for eight hours,” you said. 

Dammit, his plan backfired. But he hadn’t missed the way you eyed the picture of him with his dad, Sarah and Wheezie in his wallet. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

“Please? All flights are sold out and I’d really like to see my little sisters for Christmas,” he blinked his wide blue eyes, mustering up all the sincerity he could find.

Family was your weak spot, you wondered if Brody had told him that. As much as you truly did not want to get in this cramped, two-door car with him, you felt bad picturing the two little girls waiting patiently for their big brother to come home for Christmas. Ugh.

With a deep sigh, you finally said, “fine.” 

Rafe slapped his hand on the car’s roof in celebration, reveling in his victory as he finally stepped away from your door.

“I’ll get you to the ferry and that’s it,” you qualified, trying to dampen his enthusiasm. “I need to be home by six, if I’m late you’re gonna owe me a lot more than a favor.”

He crossed his fingers over his heart solemnly, “scout’s honor!”

“You can throw your stuff in the backseat,” you instructed, your trunk already full to the brim with presents for your family.

“What, you got too much junk in your trunk?” He chuckled at his own joke as he jogged around to the passenger’s side.

You rolled your eyes hard as you climbed in the driver’s seat. This was gonna be the longest eight hours of your life.

Hour two

The heat in your car was cranked at full blast, but you were still shivering as you drove. This car was a hand-me-down from your dad, it got you back and forth to school, but left plenty to be desired in the way of amenities.

Based on the designer watch he was wearing and his Gatsby-esque reputation, you were pretty confident this was the least fancy car Rafe had ever been in.

“Sorry about the rattling,” you said, needlessly gesturing toward the dash, which shook steadily with the hum of the engine. “She’s a good car, but she’s got creaky bones.”

“It’s cool,” he shrugged, pulling a pack of gum out of his coat pocket.

“I’m sure the G-wagons you’re used to don’t shake when you accelerate.”

Rafe popped a piece of gum in his mouth, snapping it obnoxiously between his teeth as he looked over at you, head cocked in observation.

“You don’t like me,” he surmised simply.

Your mouth fell open slightly, startled by how directly he clocked you, “I- I barely know you.”

“Then why do you roll your eyes everytime I open my mouth?”

“Maybe I just don’t like what you have to say.”

His eyes narrowed, considering this for a moment before deciding, “nah, I think it’s something else. Did we have a class together or something?”

“No, just a couple mutual friends,” you smiled the fakest of smiles.

“Yeah? Like who?”

“Girls you’ve ghosted mainly,” you said.

“Whaaat, me? Ghost someone? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he smirked.

“Yeah right,” you shook your head with an incredulous laugh that only widened his grin. “You know exactly what I mean, you ghost them and then you gaslight them that you were never a thing to begin with. We call it the Rafe Cameron special.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’ve never done that,” he said.

“That’s such bullshit, this girl in my hall freshman year showed me all your texts, you totally gaslit her.” 

“Gaslit? Me? You’re crazy…” he said.

You almost took the bait, mouth opened indignantly to argue again before you finally caught onto his game and the growing prideful smirk on his face. He was fucking with you.

You turned the music up, blocking him out as he chuckled under his breath in the seat next to you, ever so pleased with himself.

“Oh, c’mon, lighten up,” he tilted his body toward you, his long legs cramped in the small space of your front seat. 

He placed his hand on the back of your headrest, his arm easily reaching the distance between you. 

“It’s college, it’s not that serious. Everybody’s hooking up and breaking up. I mean, I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of flings,” his eyes ran up and down your body with that final remark.

You stumbled over your response. You weren’t necessarily a shy person, but you didn’t walk around discussing your personal life as openly as he apparently does. 

“I…can you stop looking at me like that please?”

“Looking at you like what?” He grinned, feigning innocence.

“Like you know me at all.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” he nodded. “Though I think I’ve pretty much figured you out.”

“Oh have you?” Your eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah, I mean, I have my guesses at least…”

“Please, share with the class,” you turned the radio down to better hear his absurdity, sure that he was full of shit.

“You were top of your class in high school, graduating with a…3.97 GPA,” he began. “You got in automatic acceptance to a bunch of state schools but you insisted on going to your reach, which thrilled your parents I’m sure. College isn’t as easy as high school, but you’ve settled around an A minus average final grade. You’re not in a sorority, I would’ve seen you at a mixer, but you’re definitely in some organized groups. Not sports, that’s not practical enough, it’s gotta be something where you can do some networking. Brody said you’re what, pre-med? So you’re probably in some kind of medical honors society. I bet you’ve had only one serious boyfriend, maybe a long distance high school sweetheart, but you’re too focused on school to make that work so you dumped his ass. A few hook ups since then, but nothing real. How am I doing?”

Your eyes were glued to the road, face gone ashen as he continued to nail correct guess after correct guess.

“My high school GPA was 3.98 actually,” you said weakly. “And I don’t like this game.”

Rafe had never been more smug, beaming triumphantly at your confirmation of all his assumptions.

“Don’t worry, I’m done playing,” he leaned forward to take off his coat, balling it up to use as a pillow so he could lean his head on the window. “Wake me up when at the next scheduled stop, will ya?”

“No promises,” you grumbled, making him smile as he drifted off to sleep.

Hour three

Bright red brake lights glowed in a line stretched out in front of you for a mile. You sighed deeply, your foot sore from holding down the brake for a full ten minutes. Resigned, you finally gave in and put the car in park, eyeing the clock on the dash anxiously.

Rafe snored. Loudly.

You shot him a bitter glare as he sat passed out in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of the stop-and-go traffic jam you had gotten stuck in, enjoying his free ride and interrupting your music with his loud snores. Out of spite, you leaned forward and turned up the radio until your music was practically blaring through the speakers.

Somehow, like even in his sleep he knew how to push your buttons, he started snoring louder. You turned the music up as high as it would go, singing along at the top of your lungs until he finally started stirring, eyes blinking open. You quickly turned down the music, stifling a laugh at the confused, grumpy look on his face.

“We’re not moving,” he mumbled, groggily taking in your surroundings.

“You have great observational skills,” you teased him.

“You didn’t think to account for traffic on your little itinerary?” He said smugly.

“I did,” you defended yourself, “just not until we passed through DC. This part of I-95 isn’t usually so packed.”

Rafe sat up in his seat, not having much room to stretch out his legs but trying anyway. He watched the way you were chewing on the inside of your cheek, nervously tapping your hands on the steering wheel.

“So what’s happening at six o’clock?” He asked, trying to pull you from your anxious thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Before we left, you said you had to be home at six. What’s at six?” 

“Oh, uh, it’s kind of silly actually, you wouldn’t get it,” you sat back in your seat, finally accepting that the car in front of you wasn’t moving anytime soon.

“Try me,” he said.

You looked at him, trying to decide if you wanted to share and risk his getting his rude opinion on something so special to you. But you were hungry, and tired, and stressed, and honestly, after a few too many hours in his charismatic orbit, you were looking for more reasons not to like him.

“It’s because of cookies,” you admitted.

“Cookies?” He cocked his eyebrow, trying to maintain his non-judgemental stance.

“My mom makes these gingerbread cookies that are literally the best thing I’ve ever tasted. They’re so good, she makes them every christmas, but she only makes one batch. It’s an old family recipe her mom left her when she passed away and my mom said she isn’t supposed to give it to me until she’s…gone…”

You paused to swallow hard, like there were more words fighting their way out. Feeling a little too vulnerable with Rafe’s eyes on you, you pushed them back down. 

“…anyway, I have three younger brothers, and they get home from their practices at six. The second they walk in the door, they’ll attack those cookies and there won’t be any left for me. So I need to get home before them or I’ll have to wait a whole year for more cookies.”

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he decided whether or not he was gonna tease you.

Finally he landed on, “gingerbread, really? They can’t possibly be that good.”

“Oh no, believe me they really are. I’m not usually into gingerbread either but these are seriously the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up, smirking at you from his side of the car. It took a second for you to hear your own double entenadre. 

“Oh shut up,” you laughed, reaching over to swat his arm.

“I didn’t say anything!” He pretended to wince, rubbing the spot on his arm you’d hit dramatically. You flexed your hand, surprised that it stung a little, his arm firmer than you were expecting. 

“You question the cookies and then you mock me,” you shook your head. “I should make you get out and walk the rest of the way.”

“No, no!” He chuckled. “I would never question the cookies. I’m sure they’re delicious. Don’t make me walk.”

You zeroed your eyes in on him, “fine. You're safe. For now.”

He wiped his forehead playfully, mouthing a silent ‘phew!’

After a few minutes, traffic started moving again, though painfully slowly. Rafe was drumming along to the radio on the dashboard, growing more impatient by the second. His fidgeting reminded you of a bored toddler.

“Why can’t you mom just make more cookies?” He blurted out.

Your grip tightened on the wheel as sudden brake lights ahead of you forced you to slam on your own brake yet again. This was the direction you were hoping the conversation wouldn’t head in.

“She, uh…she just makes the one batch,” you tried to shrug the question off, but he was too busy tapping away and shifting in his seat to notice your growing discomfort.

“I mean how long can it take? A couple hours maybe? I bet she could just -”

“She just can’t, okay?” You snapped, your growing irritation with the traffic jam making the words come out a little sharper than you’d intended. You took a deep breath when his eyes snapped toward you, “sorry. She just…she can only make one.”

Rafe nodded, his bottom lip sticking out as he returned his attention to his phone, typing rapidly.

“Alright then, take the next exit,” he said.

“What?”

“In a half mile on the right, take that exit,” he repeated.

“Why?” you asked.

“I found a faster route,” he explained. “Let’s get you those cookies.”

Hour four

Rafe was right, the alternate route he found for you had caught you up to schedule, even putting you about twenty miles ahead of where you expected to be by this point.

With the made up time, Rafe finally convinced you to stop for food, and, after several minutes of arguing, to let him drive the next stretch.

It was amazing how much your mood improved with some food in your system. Now that you weren’t the one behind the wheel, it was you shuffling restlessly in the seat, unfolding and refolding your schedule and refreshing the GPS on your phone every couple of minutes. 

“In one hundred and twenty two miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and twenty miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and nineteen miles-“

“Veer left! It’s gonna keep saying the same thing every time, you really don’t need to keep refreshing it,” Rafe grunted.

You shot him a glare, making a show of turning your phone off and tucking it in your pocket. 

“Remind me why you couldn’t just drive yourself?” You snarled. “What, is the Beamer in the shop?”

“It’s a Range Rover, actually,” he corrected you, pulling forth yet another eye roll from you as you mumbled ‘of course it is.’ “And yes, actually, it is.”

“Ah, you pimping your ride?”

He snorted, “what is it 2005? No, I, uh, totaled it, actually.”

“I knew I shouldn’t let you drive,” you winced, grabbing the handle above the passenger door theatrically.

“Relax, it wasn’t my fault,” he assured you.

“Let me guess, the other driver was so blinded by your dazzling smile that they crashed right into you?” 

“There was no other driver,” he said, smirking with a sidelong glance in your direction. “Glad to know you think my smile is that powerful though.”

You regretted your word choice immediately, your brain was working so fast to deflect his charm you had lost the plot a bit. You scrambled to put the focus back on him so he wouldn’t see the way you were blushing.

“Okay so what’s the story then?” You asked.

“It’s really not that interesting. I was driving around campus and there was something in the street, I swerved and hit a tree, that’s it,” he reached to turn the radio a little louder, your eyes narrowing at the avoidant tone he’d adopted.

“You saw ‘something?’ What ‘something’ did you see?” You pressed, amused by his discomfort.

“Just, uhm, an animal in the road,” he said dismissively.

You nodded, a little “ah” leaving your lips as you returned your gaze to the window. You tapped your fingers on your thigh to the beat of the song. You wanted to know more, he knew you wanted to know more. The tension broke quick.

“What kind of animal was -”

“Ohhh my god, you’re so nosy, it was-“ he cut himself off momentarily to lower his voice, “it was a bunny alright?”

Your laugh was immediate and loud, head falling back at the image he’d conjured for you.

“Alright, it’s not that funny but whatever,” he rolled his eyes, unable to suppress the little curve of his lips at the pretty sound of your unguarded giggles. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you said between laughs, wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, “it’s not funny. It’s nice. You crashed your Range Rover trying to save a little rabbit. I just didn’t expect Rafe Cameron to break for bunnies, it’s very cute.”

Rafe never got flustered, he practically majored in flirting, it never phased him. So why the fuck was he blushing like a little kid right now?

Get your shit together, Cameron, he thought, she’s just some girl.

“So you and Brody, y’all sleeping together or...?”

Your laughter stopped dead in its tracks, head snapping towards him as your jaw slammed shut.

Pointedly not answering him, you grabbed your Coke from the cupholder and took a long sip.

“Is that a yes?” he continued. 

“Not that it’s any of your business,” you cut him off, fiddling with the straw, “but no, we’re just old friends.”

Long gone was the playful air of the bunny story. Unable to recover and get a positive reaction from you, he figured he might as well dig himself deeper. In for a penny…

“But, c’mon, you’re saying you two have seriously never…”

“Ew no, he’s literally like my brother,” you shut him down. “Why do you care so much? You jealous?”

Fuck, he hadn’t meant to give you the upper ground, he needed to level the field. 

“You just seemed pretty upset when you found out he wasn’t coming is all. Like, I dunno, a woman scorned and all that…”

“Have you considered it’s because I realized I was gonna be stuck in a car alone with you for eight hours?”

Thoroughly pissed off, you sank down in your seat and continued sipping your Coke, avoiding looking at him by counting the mile markers on the side of the highway. 

Rafe looked over at you, taking in the flex of your jaw as you stewed. He usually didn’t give a fuck if his words offended people. He preferred it, actually. But something about the shape of your smile and the sound of your laughter made him wish you were always happy. He felt like shit for making it go away, then he felt like shit for feeling like shit given his decision not to like you.

His eyes stayed on you for longer than they should, studying the shape of your silhouette in the soft light of the December sun. 

“Watch out!” You shrieked suddenly.

Rafe’s eyes shot forward and he realized with panic that he’d been veering off the road, the front of the car dangerously skewed in the direction of the metal guard rail. 

“Fuck!” 

He cut the wheel hard, overshooting his correction and causing the car to jerk sharply to the left. In your concern, you gripped your drink so hard the lid came off, your ice cold diet coke splashing out of the cup and all over you.

Rafe redirected the car until it was back in the correct lane, but you were already covered in diet soda. Coke dripped from your hair onto your face, your mouth hung wide open in shock and fury.

“Shit, my bad,” Rafe said, reaching in the fast food bag for some napkins.

He started dabbing it completely unhelpfully at your shoulder and you ripped the napkin from his hands.

“This is my favorite shirt, ugh what the fuck Rafe!” You scolded him, trying to use the napkins with very little luck, the shirt was definitely ruined.

“I said I’m sorry! Jesus calm down, it’s not like I did it on purpose,” he huffed at you, hating that he liked how you said his name, even when you were yelling at him.

“No of course not, you never do anything on purpose,” you quipped.

It took everything in him not to snap back with a “you don’t even fucking know me,” but he remained silent. Biting his tongue was a new taste to him, he didn’t like it, but he didn’t like the feeling of you being pissed at him either. Today was a day of firsts.

“We’re gonna have to stop so I can get a new shirt from the trunk,” you said.

Eager to return to familiar territory, he jumped at the opportunity to antagonize you, shaking his head and tsking condescendingly, “no can do, there’s no stops on the schedule for an hour.”

“Okay well this is obviously an extenuating circumstance,” you argued.

“So was me wanting to stop at that outlet mall to get presents for my family, but we didn’t stop then,” he countered.

“Right, because those things are comparable,” you scoffed. “It’s not my fault you waited until the last second to do your Christmas shopping.”

You were right, but he still resented the know-it-all tone in your accusation.

“Well I’m the driver and I say we’re sticking to the schedule,” he doubled down.

“So I’m just supposed to sit here covered in soft drink for the rest of the trip?”

“I have an old sweatshirt in my bag you can borrow,” he offered.

The urge to continue fighting with him until he agreed to pull over was strong, but the urge to get out of the cold, sticky shirt was stronger. With a sigh, you climbed into the backseat and dug through Rafe’s bag until you found a soft, worn out hoodie with a logo on the front that said “Kildare Academy Lacrosse” and on the back “Cameron #44.”

You reached down to peel off your shirt, looking up first to catch Rafe watching you through the rear view mirror. Your hands paused on the hem, giving him a steely look.

“Uh, a little privacy please?” 

His eyes continued flicking between you and the road, “I just wanna see if you found the right sweatshirt,” he claimed.

You let out an indignant tsk, mouth open in disbelief when he gave you a little wink through the mirror. You reached forward and smushed your hand into his cheek, pushing his head back toward the road. He bit his bottom lip, trying to play nonchalant as you stripped off your shirt just inches behind him. He might act like a playboy, but he did actually have enough respect not to look at you while you changed.

Still, keeping his eyes on the road meant seeing the fuzzy form of you in his peripheral vision. The general hue of your skin tone and the swift movement of you pulling your shirt over your head sucked some of the air from his usually puffed-out chest. He felt like he was twelve years old, the way just the thought of you shirtless in the backseat made his hands clammy and his heart pick up speed. He needed to get a grip.

The sweatshirt was about two sizes too big but so warm and comfortable you didn’t care. You expected it to smell like some cheap cologne or boy sweat, but instead it smelled like something sweet and inviting - fabric softener, you realized with a grin. You’d tease him for that later.

Hour five

Somewhere in the middle-of-nowhere Virginia, your gas light came on. You agreed to let him drive for another fifty miles after a quick gas station pit stop, planning to take the allotted thirty minute nap you’d mapped out on your schedule before driving the rest of the way.

Rafe paid for the gas, as promised, and stood by the car as he filled your tank. You never did get to finish your Diet Coke, so you ran inside to grab another while he pumped.

“That’ll be $2.79, dear,” the cashier told you, her southern accent and charm a tell-tale sign that you were nearing home.

With a smile, you pulled out your debit card and held it out for her to swipe.

“Sorry sweetheart, there’s a five dollar minimum for cards,” she informed you politely.

“Oh, okay,” you looked around the counter for something to add, swiping some knick-knacks from their display to round up your bill.

----❄----

The car door slammed as Rafe climbed back in next to you, balling up the receipt for the gas and tossing it into the backseat.

“How much was it?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugged, turning the key as the engine sputtered to life. 

You shouldn’t feel bad, he offered to pay, and you were technically the one doing him a favor. Still, you were raised by blue collar parents, ‘neither a borrower nor a lender be’ and elbow grease was gospel in your home. You felt like you needed to give him something.

“Here,” you passed him the bag of trinkets you’d bought inside.

Rafe looked in the bag with a confused grin.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” He laughed as he pulled the items out of the bag.

“You could…give them to your sisters,” you suggested.

“What are they gonna do with a Thomas Jefferson snow globe and a bumper sticker that says ‘Virginia is for Lovers’?”

“Well it’s better than a slip of paper that says ‘IOU one christmas present,’” You teased him.

“Y’know what? Very true,” he nodded, tucking the bag of goodies in the backseat and pulling out of the gas station. 

The drive was silent for a few minutes. You leaned forward, resting your arms on the dash as you watched the emerging silhouette of the Blue Ridge Mountains on the far horizon. It was all getting so close; a crackling fire, drinking hot cocoa while watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas with your brothers, decorating the tree, those gingerbread cookies…

“What are you smiling about?” Rafe’s voice interrupted your revelry.

“I’m just excited to get home and see my family,” you said with a happy smile. “Aren’t you?”

It was such a foreign concept to him he almost laughed. He was still playing the angle that he was desperate to get home to his family so you’d give him a ride. He couldn’t tell you the truth; that he wasn’t sure anyone at his house even remembered he was coming, that Christmases in the Cameron house for the last decade were more about the pictures his father could put on the cards he sent to clients than they were about celebrating, or love. 

“Uh, yeah, ‘course,” he said, hoping you’d drop it. 

You didn’t.

“Does your family have any traditions?” 

“Like what?” He knew what you meant, but his brain wasn’t working fast enough to come up with a lie, the truth sitting on his chest in the uncomfortable way he spent his life trying to avoid.

“Like, okay,” you started. “Me and my brothers always sleep in the living room on Christmas Eve. We get all the pillows and blankets in the house and make a big pile in front of the fireplace and keep the fire going all night so we can stay up to try and catch Santa.” 

“How’s he gonna come down the chimney if you keep the fire going?” Rafe questioned logically.

“Oh Rafe, I’m so sorry I have to be the one to tell you this…but Santa isn’t real,” you placed your hand on his arm like you were trying to console him. 

He let it linger for a minute before shaking you off, “you know what I meant!” he grumbled, making you laugh. The sound was so sweet it made him dizzy.

“What else do you do?” He asked impulsively, surprising both you and himself with his desire to hear you keep talking.

“Well, you know about my mom’s cookies, and we always drink cocoa with peppermint sticks, and oh! Me and my dad used to cut down a real tree together the day after Thanksgiving- I’m sure they’ve already gotten it this year since I wasn’t home- but we’d always decorate it together, just the two of us, while listening to his old Bing Crosby vinyl.”

It sounded so nice, so idyllic and comforting, like a Hallmark card. Jealousy roared in his chest, hoping you couldn’t see it on his face as he pictured the much colder, tension filled holiday that was awaiting him.

“Didn’t Bing Crosby used to hit his kids?” He blurted out coldly, the holly jolly joy in the car becoming a little too much for him to handle.

Your face soured, lips twisted as he burst your bubble. 

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch,” you mumbled. Even when he was being an ass, you were being cute. It was killing him. “Not a Christmas guy, huh?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be napping right now?” He brushed off your question.

“I don’t know, maybe you shouldn’t drive so grumpy.”

“I’ll be fine. Your thirty minutes is slipping away, though.”

“Okay fine, but don’t forget to wake me up when we cross the state line,” you reminded him.

“I know, I know. Are you always this bossy?” He snipped, his sudden coldness making you wish you’d never opened up to him about your family to begin with.

With a final, pointed look at him, you pulled the strings of his sweatshirt to cover your eyes and sank down into the seat. 

“Bah humbug,” you threw at him before drifting off to sleep.

Almost immediately, he missed the sound of your voice. 

Hour six

In your dream, you sat alone at your kitchen table, your dad’s Bing Crosby vinyl skipped on the record player as you cried over an empty plate, not a single crumb of gingerbread left…

Hour seven

The world was moving outside the windows, the early darkness of winter making the scene blurry, but you could tell the car was definitely still moving.

And Rafe was out cold in the driver’s seat.

“Oh my god!!” 

You shot up in your seat and grabbed the wheel, sure that you were about to go flying off the road any second. But the wheel was locked, and there was no engine’s rumble shaking the dash. The car was off. 

You blinked, your groggy mind finally catching up with reality. You weren’t driving, you were floating. The choppy ocean crashing against the side of the ship spraying little droplets of water on your windshield.

“Oh my god,” you repeated with a groan, this time less panicked and more pissed.

Rafe woke up with your body stretched across his lap, gripping the wheel as you groaned.

“Hi,” he mumbled with a sleepy smile, completely misreading the situation.

You sat back in your own seat and hit him on the shoulder, hard. 

“Oww, what the hell?” He sat up, rubbing his arm.

“Where the fuck are we?” You barked at him.

“We’re in your car on the way home,” he avoided the true answer. 

“I said I’d get you to the ferry…”

“And would ya look at that? You did!” He smiled sheepishly.

With scarily accurate comedic timing, the ship’s horn blared loudly, leaving no doubt.

“Rafe, we’re on the ferry!” You yelled, smacking him again.

“Would you stop hitting me please?! We were making good time and you looked so peaceful sleeping so I figured we’d just hop the ferry real quick and you’ll still make it home by six.”

You checked the time on your phone, eyes widening with realization.

“Just barely! At this rate I’ll be walking in the door at 5:58,” you argued.

“And just think of how many cookies you can eat in two minutes if you really put your mind to it,” he grinned at you. You were having none of his boyish charm this time, back to being a card carrying member of the “I Hate Rafe Cameron” club.

“I’m gonna kill you,” you mumbled.

“Okay, well can it wait until we’re on dry land? I get seasick and I want it to be a fair fight.”

He wasn’t letting up on the flirting, and you weren’t giving in. The rest of the boat ride was painfully quiet.

----❄----

“It’s just up here on the right, that metal gate,” he assured you as he approached his home, still trying to convince you that you had plenty of time.

Headlights bounced off the high white walls of his estate as the car pulled up. Your mouth hung open in disbelief.

“What is it?” He questioned.

“I knew you were probably rich, y’know based on your whole…” you gestured vaguely to him, “...thing. But holy shit.”

He grinned, “yeah it’s alright I guess.”

“Oh whatever,” you laughed. “It’s like a fucking castle!”

With a final left turn, he pulled into Tannyhill, the giant house completely dark at the end of the long drive. Rafe’s face fell slightly as he drove up, but he pushed the disappointment down when he felt your eyes on him.

“Home sweet home,” he said, feigning holiday cheer.

He put the car in park and grabbed his stuff from the backseat. You both got out, stopping in front of the car so he could hand you the keys.

“I should change so you can have your sweatshirt back,” you said.

“Nah you can give it back to me at school, I’ve delayed your schedule long enough.”

You smiled softly, giving him a grateful nod.

It was strange, you felt like you’d known him much longer than eight hours and yet you weren’t quite friends��you weren’t enemies either, but definitely not friends. How is one supposed to say goodbye to a non-enemy/non-friend? You settled on holding out your hand to shake. Rafe just looked down at your palm, huffing a laugh at the gesture.

“Well,” you shrugged, smiling back, “Merry Christmas I guess?”

He took your hand, giving it a firm shake and a squeeze, “yeah, Merry Christmas I guess.”

With a nod, you stepped around him and got back into your car, pulling up your GPS and entering your home address. So long as the ferry was still running on schedule and there wasn’t too much traffic, you’d get home with about five minutes to spare.

You put the car in reverse and got ready to back out of the driveway. You tried to keep your eyes fixed on the rearview, but you couldn’t help but steal one last look at Rafe as he walked through his front door.

Only, he wasn’t going inside. Or maybe he couldn’t go inside? He stood at the front door shaking the handle and having a very animated conversation with someone on his phone. Something wasn’t right.

Even though you knew you shouldn’t, you cracked your window slightly to hear the phone call. His back still turned to you, Rafe didn’t notice you could hear him and kept talking, loudly…

“The Bahamas? Are you kidding me?...I can’t believe you guys just left without me...well I wasn’t and then I got a ride…this could’ve been avoided if you’d just sent the jet like I asked…since when are you concerned about that?...well what the hell am I supposed to do now?!” 

The last question was said with a raised voice, aggression seeping into his tone. He made like he was about to say something else, but was cut-off, his shoulders falling as the voice on the other end got so loud that it carried all the way to your car. You couldn’t make out the words, but whoever he was talking to was clearly shouting even louder than Rafe had just been.

“Y-yes sir…I’m sorry…yes sir…no sir…okay I will…I lo-”

The phone beeped three times and the screen went black. Rafe stared down at it for a second before slipping it in his pocket and lifting a rock close to the door, retrieving a small silver key. As he raised it to the doorknob, his eyes caught yours in the reflection of the glass.

“You should get going,” he said, turning and noticing your window cracked. “You’re gonna miss your cookies.”

Fully busted for eavesdropping, you rolled the window the rest of the way down, “did they…are they not home?”

“Nah, they decided to spend Christmas in the Bahamas,” he explained.

“Oh. So you’re just gonna be here, like, alone?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not a Christmas guy anyway, remember?” He gave you a tight lipped smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Are-are you sure? You could…” You couldn’t quite bring yourself to say it. Were you really gonna offer for him to come home with you? You barely knew him, surely you couldn’t bring him home for Christmas. 

The offer fell dead on your lips, but Rafe knew where you were going with it, the pity in your voice a little too much for his pride.

“I’m really fine,” he said, nodding his head toward the road, “you should get back on the road. You’ve got a schedule to keep”

You gave him a soft smile as you put the car back into reverse, feeling guilty the whole way out of the driveway.

----❄----

Turning the Christmas radio station up, you tried to focus on gingerbread cookies as you waited in the long car line to get back on the ferry. 

He wasn’t your friend, in fact, he was kind of an asshole to you all day. You didn’t owe him anything. Plus, he surely wouldn’t be comfortable at your little house in the country. Not when he was used to all the flash of this island, the one his family seemingly owned based on all the signs with their name on it you passed on your short drive. No, he’d be fine. You’d get your cookies and he’d be fine.

“Ma’am,” the Ferry ticketing attendant tapped on your window to get your attention. 

You sighed deeply as you looked at the big ship, then down to your GPS, telling you there was only a minute to spare if you were gonna get home on time. 

Home. Yours, warm and full of love. His, empty and dark.

“We’ve got a schedule to keep,” the attendant urged. “Are you boarding or not?”

----❄----

The house was still dark but for one light glowing through an upstairs window.

You knocked three times, Rafe’s confused face finally appearing behind the glass. He opened the door with a questioning furrow of his brow. His bag was still packed, sitting right inside the door. You reached down to grab it, throwing it over your shoulder as you said, 

“You owe me a cookie.”

(part two)

a/n: merry everything! I had so much fun writing this! There will be 3 more parts, just a lil present from me to you <3 there will be some hurt, but mostly comfort and a stocking full of fluff!

for updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs. to be tagged, just ask in the replies or send me an ask!

taglist: @itneverendshere @rafediaries @promiscuousg1rl @eolsens @inlovewrafe

[freeabortionslol]

don't marry him (quinn hughes x bsf!reader) ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

summary: angst, quinn talks reader out of engagement, unrequited love (kinda), reader is a lawyer, lots of flashbacks, italics mean flashbacks, not a single y/n used (yay!) warnings!! anxiety, panic attacks, cursing, intense argument a/n: okay so I rly didn't know what to do with this bc it honestly felt wrong to have him confess his feelings in this moment LMAO so I think I'm def gonna do a pt 2. anyways this was the fic from my drafts that the people voted for so here it is!! hope u enjoy :)

wc: 4.1k

“You lost.” Quinn said, staring out at the Lake, not making eye contact with you.

“What?” You asked, twirling your flashy engagement ring around your finger. 

Max had come into your life at a time when everything felt uncertain. You were fresh off a series of career setbacks, questioning your worth and your ability to build the future you had always dreamed of. He was steady, charismatic, and above all, ambitious. Qualities you admired and felt you needed to anchor yourself. He made you feel secure in a world that often felt chaotic.

Quinn sighed, turning to face you slightly. “At life. You lost.” He mumbled out, taking a sip of his beer before turning back to the lake. Your face quickly softened with a hint of sadness.

“I-I didn’t lose. I’m happy and successful.” You said, your tone coming off with a hint of anger. 

You and Max met at a work conference, one of those overly formal events where you spent half the time pretending to be interested in panel discussions and the other half networking. Max had approached you during a coffee break, his easy confidence setting him apart from the crowd. His suit was perfectly tailored, his smile sharp but not unkind.

Quinn took one look at you, shifting in his seat slightly. “Y-You…you don’t want this.” Your heart thumped slightly, cracking your knuckles to drown out the sounds of your own thoughts. “I’m scared for you.” 

Max’s love came with conditions. He valued success above all else, and he expected you to do the same. Work always came first, even if it meant skipping family events or cutting vacations short for a meeting. He didn’t understand why you needed to spend time with Quinn, Luke, and Jack.

“Quinn, I love him. You know that.” Your brows furrowed in an attempt to make him understand. 

The engagement came as a surprise, even to you. It was during a charity gala, one of those glittering events Max thrived in. He had pulled you onto the stage during his speech, getting down on one knee in front of hundreds of people. The ring sparkled under the chandeliers, and the applause was deafening. You had said yes because saying no didn’t feel like an option. Not with Max’s expectant smile, the cameras flashing, and the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

“But do you like him?” His words sent a shiver down your spine as you continued to fidget with the ring on your finger. The ring that was far too heavy to be wearing constantly, its band made of gold instead of your preferred silver. His words hung in the air, the weight of them sinking in your chest like a stone tossed in the still waters of the lake. His gaze remained fixed ahead, unwavering.

Max wasn’t a bad man. He wasn’t cruel or unkind. But he didn’t see you, not the way Quinn did. He saw your potential, your ambition, but not the person you were when all the noise fell away.

“I-I…I don’t- of course I like him. What are you getting at?” You stuttered, confused about your own feelings on the matter. Quinn glanced at you with a side eye, taking another swig from his bottle before speaking.

“Really?” He asked, his heart shattering at the sight of tears welling in your eyes. “I see the face you make when he talks. It’s blank, unreadable. And when he laughs? Your eyes scrunch up like when we would drag you out of bed to get on the boat.” Quinn lets out an uncomfortable chuckle. “You really want to wake up next to his mustache every morning for the rest of your life?” You roll your eyes, posture slumping.

“Don’t make fun of him.” You warned, your voice becoming stern. Quinn bites the inside of his mouth before turning away. “I’m successful, Quinn.”

“Yeah-yeah, that’s great. You have all the fuckin’ money you could’ve wished for.” He huffs out with a sarcastic smile.

“Don’t do that. Don’t make me sound materialistic-” You crossed your arms, Quinn cutting you off quickly.

“Well it’s kind of hard when all you do is work and work-” His voice raises significantly.

“This is my dream! If you can’t accept the fact that i’m happy-”

“Yeah! And you’re so damn caught up in it that you don’t have time for us anymore!” He yells, sending you a look of anger. One you’d never seen before. He breathes heavily, trying to calm himself down as he moves to the edge of his seat. His eyes soften when he catches your expression, scared. He sighs reluctantly before he speaks again. “Luke notices the way you brush him off when Max is around. He notices how you never fly out to Jersey to see him and Jack like you used to.” Your breath hitched as Quinn’s words pierced through the air. His voice had calmed, but the raw emotion in his eyes cut deeper than his raised tone ever could. You looked away, not able to face the weight of his gaze, and stared at the rippling water instead. The golden light of the setting sun shimmered on the surface, mimicking the perfection you thought you’d built. 

“Luke said that?” You whispered, your voice barely audible. A lump formed in your throat, but you swallowed it down, refusing to let it show. You didn’t want this, not here, not ever. 

“Yeah.” He replied softly. “Jack see’s it too. They miss you.” Quinn turned his head to face you, your gaze still not meeting his. “I miss you.” You turned to glance at him, tears bubbling as you brushed a strand of hair from your face. You continued playing with your ring, biting your lip to hold the cries. 

You sniffled, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “This is my life. I won.” You croaked out. Quinn sighed, leaning back in his seat as he swirled the beer bottle in his hand.

“When we were kids, my Aunt Julia came over to visit us during christmas. Do you remember that?” He asked quietly, catching you off guard in a moment of vulnerability. You nodded your head, continuing to bite your lip. “She asked all of us- Me, you, Jack, and Luke ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’” Your eyes softened quickly, bringing your knees to your chest. “Do you remember what you said?” He asked, his tone empathetic.

“Yeah, a lawyer-”

“A mother.” He interrupted. The words hit you like a punch to the chest, knocking the air from your lungs. You froze, staring at Quinn as the memories hit like a tidal wave.

“I…I don’t remember that.” Your voice barely above a whisper.

Quinn gave you a sad smile, his eyes softening. “You do. You just don’t want to.” He brought the bottle to his mouth, looking out at the lake again. The two of you sat in the thick silence. Quinn, knowing he was winning this conversation and you, overthinking every little moment from the past two years. Tears began to escape your eyes as you stared out at the lake, refusing to look at Quinn. He turned to you, seeing how hard this conversation was for you. He wanted to pull you into him, let you cry into his shoulder until all the pain went away, but that wasn’t his job anymore. It was Max’s. The pain burned deep into Quinn’s chest as he recalled every memory he shared with you at this house. Jumping off the boat together on hot summer days, neighborhood barbecues where you would wear those short little sundresses he liked so much, your first kiss while playing spin the bottle together, and of course every deep conversation you shared on this back deck, in these exact chairs. When he was thirteen, he was sure of the fact that he would marry you. He never expected to be sitting here, watching you fiddle with an engagement ring that he didn’t buy. 

You blinked, wiping the tears from your face as you decided to face your fear of confrontation. “I-If I don’t work hard now, I won’t have anything left when I'm old and burnt out.” Quinn’s jaw clenched as he processed your words, his gaze fixed on the lake but his mind clearly elsewhere. He tilted his head back slightly, exhaling through his nose like he was trying to suppress his frustration. Your lip trembled, more tears falling by the second as you looked away. 

“H-He um-” You paused, taking a long sigh as you looked over at Quinn. “He says there’s no time for children in our career.” Quinn whipped his head over to you, his expression softening as he got lost in your words. 

“He’s a piece of shit.” Quinn mumbled, shaking his head as he returned his gaze to the lake. 

You licked your lips as you rolled your eyes. “He’s not a piece of shit, okay? He’s a good guy, you just don’t know him.” You said, your tone growing in frustration. Quinn looked over to you, mouth open, brows furrowed as if you’d just said the most unbelievable thing. 

He huffed out a small laugh before returning his eyes to the bottle in his hand. “You’re fuckin’ delusional.” He let out quietly, taking another sip. You whipped your head to him, your frustration quickly bubbling over. 

“Excuse me-”

Quinn was quick to interrupt you, his voice raised slightly. “You heard me. You’re fucking delusional if you think that’s love.” He rolled his eyes, looking back at you. 

You scoffed, licking your bottom row of teeth as you let out an uncomfortable laugh. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” Your expression had become serious, your tears stopping in their tracks. “This is love!” Your voice carefully rose in volume. “I fell in love,” You laughed slightly, letting a slight smile escape your lips out of frustration. “You’re just jealous.” 

Quinn’s face turned bright red as he took in your words. He looked down at his lap, then back to you. He bit the inside of his cheek, letting out an uncomfortable chuckle before speaking. “Jealous?” He asked, brows furrowed. “My god, you're so full of yourself sometimes.” He didn’t mean that and he knew, but you didn’t. You bit your lip, trying to hold back tears as your best friend tore you apart. “You seriously think i’m jealous of him?” He asked, his voice just below a yell.

“No, of me!” Quinn froze, his beer bottle mid air as the words echoed between the two of you. “You’re jealous because I found love and-”

Quinn slammed the bottle on the wooden deck, the sharp sound making you flinch. “Don’t.” He snapped, his voice shaking with anger. “Don’t twist this into me being the bad guy for giving a shit about you.” 

“You don’t give a shit!” You shot back, standing up as your emotions boiled over. “You just can't stand the fact that i’m not following you around like a fucking puppy anymore!” Quinn stood too, his frame towering over you, but his expression wasn’t filled with intimidation. It was filled with raw, unfiltered pain. 

June 23rd, 2012

Dear diary, today was pretty good. In the morning, Jack and Luke jumped on my bed to wake me up which sucked, but when are they not annoying? Anyways, they dragged me down to the lake for a boat day. We went with their dad and their brother Quinn (my future husband). Jack and Luke were doing this wakeboard surfing thingy so I decided to stay close to Quinn. He’s just sooo perfect. His hair is amazing and he smells so good. I wanna be his girlfriend like literally so bad but I can’t tell if he likes me or not. He held my hand when we jumped in the water which was literally the best thing that has EVER happened to me. Anyways, that was the most important thing that happened today.

“What are you reading? You don’t read.” Jack’s piercing voice pulled Quinn straight from focus. He quickly turned around, shutting the book immediately.

“Nothing uh- just something for school.” He stammered out. Jack furrowed his brows, crossing his arms. 

“It’s summer.”

“Yeah, summer reading.” Only it wasn’t summer reading. It was your diary, something personal and private. Quinn was only reading it to find out where you hid the hockey puck you stole, but he stumbled upon a catalog of entries about himself. Do you expect a thirteen year old boy to not read it? 

“Okay well, dinner’s in five minutes.” Jack said before spinning on his heel to exit the room. You liked Quinn, like really liked him and now he knows it.

“You need to think about what you just said.” Quinn said, his voice low. “Think about that and then compare it to every time I talked you through your panic attacks, or every time I picked you up at three in the morning when we were sixteen because you were too drunk to drive home, or every time I offered you a place to stay when your parents were fighting. Then, you can tell me if you think I give a shit or not.” He stared you down, his eyes becoming tense as your bottom lip began to tremble. 

“I didn’t-”

Quinn huffed out his breath, interrupting your speech. “Do you know how hard it’s been to watch you? To see you become someone I don’t even recognize anymore?” His voice became stern, raising in volume. “You don’t smile the same way anymore. You don’t laugh like you used to!” Your breath hitched, the weight of his words suffocating. You looked down at the ring on your finger, the glittering diamond that once felt like a prize but now felt more like a shackle. “You think I don’t care?” His voice was quiet, but the pain in his voice was unmistakable. “I’ve always cared. A-And seeing you like this, wearing that ring, in this life that’s clearly eating you alive? It kills me.” 

You licked your bottom lip, tears spilling down your face as you looked up at him. You swallowed the lump in your throat, letting out a shaky breath as you gathered your thoughts.

“Hey, babe. You almost ready?” You heard Max’s voice shout from the living room as you finished putting your earrings on. 

“Yeah, just a second!” You yelled back, fluffing your freshly blown out hair in the mirror. You took a deep breath as you looked yourself up and down in the dark green bodycon dress that Quinn had gotten you for your 21st birthday. You’d never put it on, but you assumed it was fitting for a work Christmas party. Was it too much? You thought to yourself as you ran your hands down the sides, seeing that the length was about an inch above your fingertips. You decided it was fine and made your way out of the bedroom, purse in hand as you walked to the living room. Max sat on the couch in his tailored Prada suit, a bit pretentious to wear to a work party. His legs were spread wide as he had one hand on his phone, and the other on the back of the couch. He looked up from the screen to glance at you in your dress. You gave him a soft smile, your shoulders tensing up as he furrowed his eyebrows. 

“It’s a bit short, don’t you think?” He asked as he ran a hand through his blonde hair. You looked down at your dress, then back up at him. 

“W-Well, I was thinking that a little. Should I change?” Your voice was shaky, filled with nerves at Max’s disapproval. 

He shook his head, standing from the couch with his hands in his pockets as he made his way to the door. “No, no. We're already gonna be late with how long you took to get ready.”

There were little moments like that that clouded your mind as you stood in front of Quinn. Your breathing was shaky, your face now fully engulfed in hot tears as he stared into your eyes. “You don’t get it.” You let out, your voice just barely above a whisper. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to find stability. To feel…safe.” Your voice cracked on the last word, and you swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself. 

“Safe?” Quinn repeated, his eyes locking with yours. “Is that what this is? Because it doesn’t look like it. You’re not safe. You’re trapped.” He gestured to the ring on your finger, his voice lowering at the depressed sight of you. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You stared at him, your chest tightening as his words dug into the thoughts you’d been trying so hard to suppress. Quinn softened, stepping closer. “You deserve more than this.” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “And I think, deep down you know that.”

You bit your lip, sniffling your nose before wiping your tears with your sleeve. “I’m in too deep. I can’t get out.” You whispered, finally bringing yourself to the point to admit it. You weren’t happy, you knew that, but you couldn’t tell anyone. Well, you thought you couldn’t until Quinn finally pushed you to the point where there wasn’t another option. 

Quinn let out a sigh mixed with exhaustion and a hint of relief. He sent you an empathetic smile as he absentmindedly grabbed your hand, rubbing his thumb against the back of it. “You can.” He said, his voice quiet. “You’re not alone. I’m here…if you need help. I’m always gonna be here.” Your breath caught in your throat as Quinn’s hand enveloped yours, his warmth cutting through the icy wall you’d built around yourself. His touch was steady, grounding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a flicker of hope. His words echoed in your head, soft and firm. You stared down at his hand, the calluses on his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as his thumb moved in slow, soothing circles. It felt so familiar, so safe, and the contrast to Max’s cold indifference hit you like a wave. You couldn’t help but let all the emotions running like a swarm through your head push you to the point of breakage. You began to sob, your eyes still looking at your hands intertwined as your breath came out in short, stammered increments. Quinn didn’t waste any time before pulling you into his chest, allowing your sobs to escape into his shirt as he wrapped his arms around your body. He held you tightly, his arms wrapping around you like a shield against everything that had been weighing you down. His chin rested on top of your head as your tears soaked into his shirt, but he didn’t seem to care. His hand rubbed slow circles on your back, grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt in ages. 

“It’s okay,” He murmured softly into your hair. “I’ve got you.” You clung to him, your fists gripping the fabric of his shirt as if letting go would mean losing the only thing tethering you to solid ground. 

The room began to shrink in an instant, reading the text from your mother. “It’s final. Dad and I are separating. You and I are moving to Gran and Pop’s when you get back from the lake house, so I need you to pack up everything.” 

The tears came almost immediately, but that didn’t scare you. It was the feeling you got in your chest, like your heart was radiating pulses all over your body. Pounding over and over again, like the beating was the only thing you could hear. The sound of Quinn shooting pucks only made it worse, like each shot was another banging ache to your head. You tried to slow your breathing, but it felt like the most difficult challenge at that moment. Your breaths were short and hitched, gasping for air at any chance you got. Your hands shook as your phone fell out of them. You were terrified, you didn’t know what was happening. You couldn’t die, you were only sixteen. You still had so much to do in life. You tilted your head up, staring at the ceiling light, but that only made it worse. Quinn noticed when you didn’t say anything about the shot he’d just missed, immediately dropping his stick to run over to you.

“Hey, Hey. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He said frantically as he leaned down to where you were sitting on the floor. You tried to tell him, tried to speak, but your head was stuck looking up, and you felt like you couldn’t move it. Quinn placed his hand on the back of your neck, pulling your head down to face him. Your face was covered in tears, completely red as your mouth parted slightly. “Talk to me.” He said gently. “Please?”

You licked your quivering lips, trying your hardest to breathe. “I-I…I c-can’t. I can’t b-breathe.” His heart dropped at your words, the panic in your voice cutting through him like a knife. His hands moved to gently cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears even as more fell. 

“Okay, okay,” He said softly, his own voice trembling but steadying for your sake. “You’re having a panic attack. You’re not dying, I promise.” You gasped again, your breaths shallow and uneven, your chest tightening with each attempt. “Look at me.” He instructed. “Breathe with me. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” He blew out softly, his eyes locked on yours as he repeated the motion.

You tried to mimic him, but your breath was quickly caught in your throat, sending you a fresh wave of panic. “I c-can’t Quinn, I can’t!” You cried.

“Yes, you can.” He reassured, his hands never leaving your face. “I’ve got you. I’m right here. Just take it slow.” You managed a small, shaky inhale, your body trembling as you followed his lead. “There you go.” He said, his voice laced with a small flicker of relief. “Now, out through your mouth.” Quinn stayed with you, guiding you through each breath as the pounding of the room began to dull. Finally, your breaths came easier, the crushing weight on your chest lifting little by little. You looked at Quinn, your face still wet with tears.

“Thank you.” You whispered, your voice hoarse.

His thumbs still traced circles on your cheeks as he sent you a soft smile. “I’ve got you. You’re not alone.”

You stayed, sobbing into Quinn’s shirt as his grip around you tightened. He listened to your breathing patterns, looking out for a sign of a panic attack. He’d memorized you at this point. He knew the exact time to jump in, and he knew how to calm you down. 

“Quinn, I’m so scared.” You cried out, wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer. 

Quinn moved his hand from your back to your head, running his fingers through your hair. “I know.” He whispered. “I’m sorry.” He leaned back just enough to gently tilt your chin up with his fingers, his blue eyes meeting yours. They were soft, but filled with an intensity that made your heart ache. “You thought you had to want this.” He said, speaking the words you never had the confidence to say. “Doesn’t mean it’s right. It doesn’t mean it’s what you deserve.” You looked up at him, not seeing Quinn Hughes, captain of the Canucks, but your childhood best friend, Quinny, who talked you through every panic attack, walked you home from every party, and gave you a bed through every fight between your parents. That’s what you deserved. Someone willing to give you that much dedication, not some pretentious lawyer who only loves you for your accomplishments. In a moment of determination, after wiping your tears, you dramatically pulled off your engagement ring, slamming it on the railing of the deck. The sound of the ring hitting the wooden railing echoed in the stillness of the night, sharp and final. Quinn’s eyes darted to it, then back to you, his lips parting in surprise. You stood there trembling, not from fear but from the sheer weight of the decision you’d just made. Your chest heaved as the tears continued to fall. This time they weren’t from sadness, they were from release. Quinn hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer, his hand hovering over yours as if to silently ask for permission. When you didn’t pull away, he took your trembling hand in his, holding it like it was the most fragile thing in the world.

“You-” He started, his voice breaking slightly before he cleared his throat. “You did it.”

“I did it.” You whispered, almost in disbelief yourself. You stared at the ring, gleaming under the soft glow of the porch light. It had once symbolized everything you wanted, but now it felt like a chain you’d finally broken free from. 

[kxsagi]

hello! I know I’m asking this on ur glorious main character goatsagi’s bday but w the recent manga leaks (IF U HAVENT READ THEM YET PLS STOP HERE) I have a request (SPOILERS BELOW)

Could you write abt Househusband!Nagi like in an AU where bro doesn’t become a pro footballer after his Blue Lock elimination 😞 and what you think he would be like? For example: he’s unhelpful post u guys moving in together until reader lwk crashes out from the strain of carrying their household on their back (poor reader) and then nagi locks in 😈 and they r happy!! Or they aren’t I feed off of angst so either is ok 😊

“𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝! 𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐢”

a/n: this request is exposing how behind i am on requests 💀 BUT MY GLORIOUS GOATSAGI LMAOSJKSGJS

i’m all caught up to the manga so don’t worry! can’t spoil me 😼

i decided to not write angst for this one because nagi deserves to be happy after all the “burger king” jokes 

(i wish i knew art credits bc the art is so cute ☹️)

at first, living with house husband! nagi is like adopting a really pretty cat who doesn’t know what a vacuum is and keeps eating your leftovers. not out of malice, he just… forgets. or assumes you won’t mind. 

you do mind. 

"sei, did you wash the dishes?" 

"huh? no, i thought you were gonna do it after your class." 

cue the twitch in your eye. 

he’s not mean or messy. actually, house husband! nagi’s pretty neat. he wipes down the counters after he makes instant ramen and always folds his socks into perfect pairs. but helpful? not exactly. not unless you're standing there, giving him a step-by-step tutorial on how to do it. 

you didn’t expect it to be this hard. being the one who works, cooks, cleans, keeps track of bills, makes the appointments. he lounges around in oversized hoodies and his soft, soft hair, watching you buzz around the apartment like a stressed-out bee. 

and you love him, you really do, but love doesn’t clean the bathroom. 

so it happens. you burn out. 

it starts with you skipping breakfast. then forgetting to charge your phone. then breaking down in the laundry room because the dryer ate one of your socks and you’ve been on your feet for 12 hours and there’s no more clean towels. 

you come home and just. crash. 

no fanfare. no dramatic monologue. you face-plant into bed and sleep through dinner, still in your shoes. 

when you wake up, everything’s… quiet. 

no game noises. no crumbs on the floor. you blink blearily and shuffle into the kitchen, expecting chaos. 

instead, there’s house husband! nagi. hair tied back messily, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing a pot like he’s reenacting a cooking show tutorial. 

you just stare. 

"oh. you're up," he says, looking over his shoulder. there’s an apron tied crookedly around his waist. you don’t even own that apron. where did it come from? 

“did you… did you cook?” 

"mhm. made curry. didn’t know how spicy you liked it, so i made it mild and left the chili flakes on the side." 

you blink again. 

he glances at you, then at the floor. “also cleaned. and made a list of stuff we need. you look tired, so… i figured.” 

turns out, house husband! nagi just needed a wake-up call. he doesn’t like seeing you worn down. he doesn’t like knowing he was part of the reason. 

after that day, it’s like he flips a switch. he’s still the same laid-back, sleepy house husband! nagi, but now he folds your laundry with yours on top so you don’t have to bend down. he sets timers for the rice cooker and writes "don't forget lunch ♡" on post-its he sticks to your keys. he learns your favorite shampoo and stocks it before you run out. 

he even starts meal-prepping. you catch him slicing vegetables with alarming precision while watching cooking videos on 2x speed. when you ask him if he’s okay, he shrugs. 

“it’s kinda like a puzzle game,” he says, sticking a cut carrot slice to your forehead. 

he still doesn’t like vacuuming, but he does it anyway. with noise-canceling headphones and a sour face. 

"i miss football sometimes," he admits one night, curled into your side on the couch. "but this isn't bad, y'know? taking care of you. feels like i'm good at something again." 

your fingers slide through his hair. "you’re amazing at it." 

he hums, sleepy, a little smug. “yeah? then let me spoil you, okay? house husband! nagi’s locked in.” 

and you let him. because for all the lazy afternoons and pajama days and burnt toast attempts, he really is locked in. 

and the two of you? you’re happy. 

finally. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[snowsonlylove]

hii!! i commented about making a fic of coryo w or about the song haunted by beyonce, i was thinking maybe something smut if ur comfortable! if not its okay but the fic could be academy!coriolanus x academy!reader and theyre school rivals both working hard to beat each other and theyre obsessed with each other but they hide it with the fact they wanna win but they j wanna fuck (or get together) maybe theyre both possessive and jealous or coryo is the one thats really extra with it,, the story could go rlly slow too and then theres just a part where the facade and tension goes away and theyre needing each other so badly at that moment rushing everything, just like how the song goes idk if i made any sense :o im so excited to see the result!! this song just gives me coriolanus vibes

You Must Be Haunting Me..

a/n note: hii!! yes, i loved your idea and i mostly stayed with your vision, only changing some minor things so the situation makes sense and dw i managed to deliver 🫡 hopefully you like it!! tysm for your idea and i look forward to seeing if there are some things you want to expand on (maybe with little blurbs on this dynamic bc i absolutely LOVE this trope!) & i'm totally comfortable with smut so dw about sending me kinky asks or requests. i totally accept them!!

Pairing: Academy!Coriolanus Snow x AcademyRival!Reader

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N and Coriolanus Snow have been academic rivals ever since the beginning of their journey in the Academy. It’s no secret that both Y/N and Coriolanus are the two top students of the Academy, both of them only being able to beat each other, the rest are just no competition for them. However, they genuinely have no idea why they're doing this constant battle against each other. Little did they know, both of them always think about each other behind closed doors and are obsessed with each other, each equally impressed at the other at how intelligent they are. One day, things just boil over with how Coriolanus constantly riles Y/N up and they explode in a huge fight which results in a turmoil of deep, rough and passionate sex. 

Fic Type: Smut (NSFW) 18+, Enemies to Lovers trope, dramatic behaviour from both of them, a wee bit of angst (mostly derived from the name-calling but in my head this is more funny than it is angsty 😭😭😭)

Warnings: unprotected sex (don’t do this guys, use a condom. reader is on birth control), rough pushing, harsh words used from both Y/N and Coriolanus, degradation (use of whore), cunnilingus (female receiving), squirting, lmk if i missed anything else

Word Count: 2k

I do not own Coriolanus Snow or Y/N Y/L/N (cuz it’s you, boo). All credits go to Suzanne Collins and her team. Song credits also go to Beyonce and her team. 

I do not allow my works to be republished or translated under any circumstances. Any instances of this happening and YOU WILL BE BLOCKEDDD. 

Also, ageless and empty blogs will be BLOCKED as this is a 18+ fic. Report my fics and you’re blocked cuz if u don’t like it, LEAVEEEE.

Y/N Y/L/N and Coriolanus Snow began this disastrous journey from the age of 11-12. Both students entered the Academy with an air of poise and elitism about them as they knew what it took to defeat the competition in the Academy, most students not even being a possible candidate to them. It was all fine and well, until one year, Y/N and Coriolanus were put in the same class for the year, and the rivalry then started..

The first assignment of that year was an individual project on what each student thought the Capitol looked like during its earliest times. Each student was tasked with coming up with a drawing with their thoughts on said topic. This was their chance to go up against each other. Both Y/N and Coriolanus would stay up in the library after school and collect piles of books and do their research and by the time the task was due, Y/N and Coriolanus obviously submitted the best sketches.

After acknowledging this, the professor asked the class to vote for who’s sketch was the best. Small pieces of paper were given out to write either Y/N’s and Coriolanus’s names and as the professor then collected the papers, making both students anxious. As the professor counted the votes, Y/N’s heart was beating out of her chest, Coriolanus’s as well. It was then announced that Y/N won, which made Coriolanus furious as he spewed a full speech on how much he hated her. “You’d never be as good as what they say you are. You’re just dirt under my feet. God! You’re such a bitch!” He screamed as the professor and the class started at him in astonishment as they’ve never seen him lash out before.

Y/N was heartbroken when she heard this as sometimes when Coriolanus wasn’t looking, Y/N would sneak glances towards him and she started to be enamoured by him. Their time together after hours in the library would usually end up in them having conversations about their day and this time together helped them bond better. With this in mind, Y/N truly thought Coriolanus was at least civil enough to be respectful towards her. Y/N felt tears well up in her eyes as she ran out of the classroom, the professor telling her to wait.

Coriolanus, still blind with rage, kept on screaming and yelling obscenities about Y/N as he stormed off to his seat, his face red and his whole demeanour fueling with rage. Unfortunately, this fateful day was what started the vicious rivalry between Y/N and Coriolanus as the two would fight over who got the better grades, which teacher favoured which student more, the differences in their scores in each assignment every single day.

As of current, both Y/N and Coriolanus are 18 and in the midst of graduating. One of their last assignments was unfortunately a pair assignment. Dr Gaul once scoped out the Academy and witnessed one of the fights between Y/N and Coriolanus and she noticed how by getting them near each other, she could make them into the power couple of Panem and have them continue the Hunger Games, which inspired her to whisper in the ear of Dean Highbottom to get them to be in the same class and for them to share a table together until they graduated. Both Y/N and Coriolanus were very unhappy about this, both choosing to ignore each other while they were in their seats. 

With both of them getting older, both Y/N and Coriolanus started noticing certain things about them. Coriolanus noticed how Y/N’s facial features were more prominent, how her ass got bigger, her breasts more plump, making him unable to control a certain urge at times which led him to mastrubate thinking about her sometimes. Y/N also noticed a few things about Coriolanus. How he started to grow muscles, how they cling to his academy uniform whenever he took off his academy jacket, how his jaw was sharper, how his nose was becoming more emphasised, how he lost his baby fat. She can honestly go forever and forever about how attractive he is.

That being said, there was one particular day where everything just blew over the water. Y/N and Coriolanus were taking notes during Dean Highbottom’s lecture when Y/N felt Coriolanus’s elbow dig into her arms whenever they got to writing. This obviously made Y/N frustrated as she harshly whispered to Coriolanus to stop a few times, which led to a hushed debate between the two before it grew louder and louder until they were screaming at each other, making the whole class look at them and Dean Highbottom staring at them in shock before yelling for them to stop and stay after class for detention.

Both Y/N and Coriolanus felt embarrassed as they were lectured by Dean Highbottom after class before an assistant of Dean Highbottom requested him to join Dr Gaul for a meeting about the Hunger Games. Dean Highbottom sighed as he looked at the two young teenagers, “Look.. I feel that you two are now old enough to know what is acceptable behaviour in class. I’ll be back soon, do not kill each other while I’m gone.” As Highbottom left the classroom, the tense atmosphere began to build as the door closed behind him.

Almost immediately after he left, Y/N and Coriolanus stared at each other with the most hateful expression ever. Y/N menacingly glared at him while saying with gritted teeth, “See, Coriolanus! If you’re long ass elbow didn’t fucking dig in my arm every single time, that old fart wouldn’t lecture us for one fucking hour! My god, you’re truly dumb!” Coriolanus glared at her before stating, “It’s not my fucking fault that happened with you were taking over the whole goddamn table with your arms everywhere! Geez, Y/N! I thought you’d be more modest!”

Y/N looked at him, shocked, “ME?!! You’re blaming ME for something YOU did! That is so fucking misogynistic coming from you, a man! I swear to god, this is discrimination towards women at its core! Grow the fuck up, Coriolanus! We’re not children anymore! God! I’d be spending my time with Sejanus right now if it weren’t for your stubborn ass!” Y/N huffed while rolling her eyes. Coriolanus stared at her, his face full of jealousy before gritting out, “Sejanus? What the fuck are you doing with Sejanus?! You’re such a fucking whore! Ugh, you’re such a bitch!” Y/N looked at him, offended, “Bitch, weren’t you just fucking Clemensia a few weeks ago? Yeah, I heard about that! Everyone was practically talking about it! Don’t pretend to be so innocent, Coriolanus!”

Coriolanus looked at her, his expression turned dark as he stalked towards her, her taking a step back until her back had hit the wall. Coriolanus leaned towards her, lifting one of his arms to go above her, bringing the other hand towards her chin and lifting it. At this point, the height difference became very apparent as her head was tipped far back, her still glaring at him. “Are you baiting me, Y/N? You talk so much for someone who just fucked Felix Ravinstill of all people a few days ago..” Y/N continued to glare up at him, “At least I had the decency to keep it in my pants longer than you! God, I hate you!” Coriolanus looked taken aback as he muttered while leaning in to cup her cheeks, her face wiggling to be let out of his grip, “Well, I hate you too, sweetheart…” 

Coriolanus leaned in as he captured Y/N’s lips with his, their mouths fighting for dominance as they kissed each other as if they needed each other to breathe. The previous tension broke into a more sensual type of tension as Coriolanus wrapped his hands around her hair ravenously while Y/N’s hand made friends with the back of his neck. One of Coriolanus’s hands found its way to Y/N’s waist as he dragged her away from the wall, pushing her towards a nearby desk before propping her up on the desk and spreading her legs, allowing him to be closer to her, not once breaking their kiss. Y/N broke their kiss as she moved her lips to Coriolanus’s neck and trailed them down his Adam’s apple while taking off his blazer and unbuttoning his shirt, Coriolanus doing the same to her.

As they undressed each other, they continued to slide their tongues against each other, the sound echoing around the classroom. They managed to undress each other down to them both only wearing underwear before Coriolanus kneeled down so that he was face to face with the apex of her thighs. Coriolanus leaned in and captured his teeth to her underwear as he slowly pulled it down, revealing her aching, dripping pussy. Coriolanus licked his lips as he roughly shoved two fingers in her cavern as he curled his fingers in and out her folds, creating a beautiful sensation as he found her G-spot with no difficulty.

Y/N moaned as she threw her head back and slid her hands down to Coriolanus’s hair and tugged on it while pulling him closer to her heat. “Oh my gosh.. Coryo, it feels so good…” As he kept pumping his fingers in and out of her, he suddenly attached his lips onto her clit as he sucked on her clit and pumped his fingers harder, each movement feeling more and more intense for Y/N. He kept on going as he curled his fingers one final time, which made Y/N yell out as she squirted and covered his fingers with her wetness.

Y/N sighed in satisfaction as she helped Coriolanus up and gave him a deep, passionate kiss while tugging down his underwear and hooking her legs on the bottom of his back, Coriolanus leaned in closer as he aligned his erection with her heat, tapping his dick on her clit a few times before pushing his hardness in her heat. He only pushed in half of it when Y/N suddenly exclaimed, “Coryo, it’s too much! I can’t take all of it!” 

Coriolanus leaned down so his forehead was laying against hers before whispering in a comforting tone, “It will fit, Y/N. Trust me, trust me..” He closed his eyes as he leaned in to capture her lips with his as he pushed in slower this time, now being able to fill her pussy with his cock to the point where their hips were against each other. Coriolanus groaned as he slowly pulled out before thrusting in again, “Fuck, Y/N… You’re so good. Such a good girl..” 

Y/N moaned at hearing him praise her as he started to thrust his dick in faster, each time harder and rougher than the last. The room started to echo with the sound of her moaning, his groaning and the sound of skin slapping. Y/N closed her eyes as she moaned, her mouth forming an “O” shape as she threw her head back once more and arched her back, needing to feel closer to him. Coriolanus wrapped his arms around her waist as he pulled her in closer and kissed his way all around her neck, leaving furious red hickeys which would soon turn purple.

The pace in which he was fucking her got rougher each time he would thrust his aching hard dick into her dripping pussy, the slapping sound really turning them on and his balls slapped to her ass, their moans becoming louder and louder each time. The furious force in which he was fucking her started to reach a boiling point as Coriolanus moaned, “Ugh.. I’m fucking cumming, Y/N. Oh.. You’re such a good girl. Such a tight and wet pussy..” 

“Ohh.. Coriolanus… So good, so deep… I’m gonna come, gonna come.. OH MY GODD!!” Y/N screamed as she came. Coriolanus groaned as he came inside her, sighing as he tried to bask in the afterglow of his orgasm, holding Y/N tight against his chest in the process. Y/N left kisses and hickeys around his neck as she looked up at him with a dazed but satisfied expression and kissed his lips however, this time the kiss shared between them wasn’t one full of hate, it was one full of love.

As they pulled away from each other and started to get dressed, Coriolanus faced Y/N and said, “You know, if you wanted to fuck me, you could’ve said so.” He said with a smirk. Y/N turned to look at him, acting shocked as she huffed in feign frustration, “Oh shut up, Coriolanus!” She smacked his chest as both of them gave each other a silly grin before hurling in laughter.

[qsphyxias]

Nightwing x Male! Reader (hurt/comfort)

if you fetishize mlm/nblm relationships, get the fuck out of here!

synopsis ; you just broke up with ur bf bc he cheated on u and Nightwing comes to make u feel better.

warnings ; swearing, break ups, venting (not traumatic or too deep) about relationship, manhandle joke, angst? its topic is sad but I think I made it too nice and fluffy

note ; i wanna add more, esp. with pillow talk or whatever but I'm too tired and maybe ill just make another part or smth or edit it

words ; 1.3k+

Your face burned, and your lips trembled against the hand you held up against your moth. You sighed shakily, dropping your head atop your arm leaned up against the railing of your balcony. That was the end of another relationship.

You looked at the wet cement down below, over the thin, black iron railing, your eyes couldn't focus on anything because of the fat tears that obstructed most of your vision. Gravity pulled your tears to the ground, almost pulling you entirely over the rails — you just felt so tired.

The day you've had was just about enough for you to bear. You found out your boyfriend of three years was cheating on you for two of those three years. But the worst part was that you hadn't even found out yourself; he had told you, and he had been the one to break up with you. As if, you were the problem.

You were in the way.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You murmured under your breath, rage began to well up, and you could feel it in your throat — strangling you, taking your breath and turning it into steam. "I wasted three years on him. Three fucking years of my life!" You backed away from the ledge, looking up at the sky as if it represented the entire world before you. "And for what?"

Despite it all, a part of you wanted him back. Not because you loved him, but because, where else will you find someone? You knew everything about him, and you... well, you hoped he knew just about everything to know about you. But now, all that information is useless. You were scared and alone; how much time did you really have? It's not like some handsome, piece of ass is going to come around and save you.

You slid down on the cold surface of the balcony, sitting down and tucking your knees in as you watched your fingers fidget in front of you. You stopped crying, but now it felt worse than before. Your heart had no means to release all that raw emotion because your body couldn't take the exhaustion.

"Hey, are... you alright?" A gentle hand grabs your shoulder, and your head shoots up to see dark blue eyes, staring at you with nothing but hopeful concern. His hope to somehow make you feel better, and his concern that you are currently sitting on the ground, eyes, nose, and mouth red and swollen.

You don't push away, not at all — in fact, that's the last thing on your mind. Even when it hits you that Nightwing is leaning over you, a knee on the ground and his arm on your shoulder. You're too drained to react properly, you just stare at him.

You pressed your hand on your cheek, murmuring your speech. "Give me a fucking break." Had he arrived at a time — literally any other time — less inconvenient, you probably would have asked him for an autograph and fawned over his arms. He chuckled at your reply, not at all offended by your display of disdain at his appearance. He took a seat next to you on the cold hard ground.

For a couple of minutes, you both just sat there, and you stared off into space as you silently fought with your inner demons to not lash out at him. With an apologetic sigh, withdrawing your attitude from before. "I'm sorry, it's been a rough night- I just found out my boyfriend was cheating on me for two years." Nightwing glanced over as you mentioned a boyfriend, so you weren't straight, huh? That totally won't affect how he sees you.

The man beside you sucked in a sharp breath as you mentioned your situation, immediately feeling terrible as he put himself in your shoes. "Don't worry about it; you deserve a little lashing out." You scoffed affectionately as you wiped your remaining tears away with your sleeve, he was friendly, wasn't he?

"That's nice of you to say." Suddenly, the floor looked much more interesting than looking at the attractive man beside you. He noticed the averted gaze and brought you back to reality by placing his hand on yours. "I'm serious, lash out at me! Whatever you wanna say to him, say to me." He was serious, grinning at his great idea.

"I mean I heard you wailing from miles away; I'm sure you don't have a shortage of things to say." He looked proud of himself. "Dear god — you heard that?" You stood up and backed away from him, with him following you closely. "I think half of Gotham heard that." He teased, watching your ashamed expression with a smile.

"You're kind of an asshole, aren't you?" You said, standing your ground as you taunted him right back. His smile only grew, "I have mixed reviews."

"Alright, Nightwing. I'll take you up on your offer." You crossed your arms and stepped closer to him, "I'll vent."

He rubbed his hands together in response, beckoning you towards him. "Give it to me."

Your face turned beet-red at the sudden conspicuous innuendo, and you paused. Hoping he hadn't noticed, you got back in the zone and tried to imagine your ex's face in place of Nightwing's. "Okay, alright. Well. You're... You're a dick."

Dick laughed, for more reasons than one. "That's it? Have at me! Don't be shy." You frowned, "Fine then, you're not just a dick. You're also cruel." You looked into his eyes, seeing your ex's face before you instead of Nightwing's.

To fuel the fire, you channeled all those feelings into your speech. "You broke my heart for no reason when you could have left me when you met him. And- Instead, you wasted my time, thinking I was in this... This loving relationship with a man I was going to marry — " Before you could keep rambling on, you felt strong arms around you, grounding you. You hadn't noticed you were trembling from the emotion until you felt the calm, still body against yours.

You also hadn't noticed how much you absolutely needed that hug.

Hesitating, your arms hovered over his back before you tenderly hugged him back, sinking into his body knowing he could still hold you from his already tight grip. You wondered if you'd ever be hugged like this again now that you didn't have a boyfriend. Whenever your ex did decide to hold you like this, it wasn't often.

Sleep took over your body as his warmth may have reminded you too much of your sheets, and the comfort of your bed. Maybe he reminded you of home.

"... Was that too much?" You murmured against the chestpiece of his suit. He shook his head, not wanting to see your expression just yet. Your frown and your trembling lips broke his heart.

"I think I'm tired." Dick took that to heart and picked you up with ease, walking over to your balcony door and stepping in. "Oh- so you're just gonna manhandle me then?" You declared eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. For a second, he was worried he had crossed a boundary. "Well, I'm okay with that." Now he wasn't so worried.

Dick chuckled as he placed you down on your bed, turning off the light beside you and moving to exit your apartment. He stopped in his tracks as he heard you groan. "Wait, come back..! Stay with me. Please?" He turned around to see you pouting on your bed, knowing you were trying your absolute best to extract pity out of him to make him stay.

"It'll be my first night in three years without a warm body sleeping next to me; you're really gonna leave a guy hanging?" He rolled his eyes as you played the break-up card, waltzing over with a defeated look on his face. You on the other hand, had adorned an expression of joy.

"You regret stopping by my balcony, don't you?"

"... Far from it, actually."

[happilychee]

do u write for acno?????

If so, please feed us with acnologia x reader 🙏🏻🙏🏻 headcanons, anything ill take it please the people are starved

I haven't considered acno before; he's not really a character I like to explore thaaat much, but I tried lol

these came out pretty angsty bc I really don't think there's a way to survive a relationship with acnologia given how he ends up :(

acnologia x reader headcanons

cw: mentions of child death and injuries; overall angst

♡ probably the only way to have a feasible relationship with acnologia is if you meet him when he's a human. the fiore of 400 years ago is nothing like modern times. it's wild, lush, vibrant, and dangerous. dragons roam freely, not just present but overpowering, and you're a meager human. still, you know you want to help your people in any way you can. you become a healer, and that's how you meet doctor acnologia.

♡ healing is a difficult job, and you spend many sleepless nights in the infirmary with acno mixing potions and balms and salves. you don't miss the way his eyes widen when your fingers brush against his as he hands you the mandrake root. he doesn't miss your tiny smile as his hand ghosts over your lower back when he passes you to weigh ingredients.

♡ it's a quiet relationship that blooms out of solidarity, a shared passion for healing, and dedication. you're both calm people, and despite the daily threat of dragons, you don't think anything could shake your relationship with the logical, ever-rational man working beside you. and yet.

♡ it's a day like any other. except a mother runs in wailing, her child dead in her arms. there's nothing you could have done, not with your healing prowess or with acnologia's medical expertise, because the child was killed by a dragon. you can't stop yourself from cringing at the mangled flesh, the smell of charred skin. acnologia is quiet, and neither of you can say anything to console the woman sobbing on your infirmary floor.

♡ things are different after that. acno doesn't engage you in witty banter or philosophical conversation. he eats less and less. he disappears at night. the work has always been split evenly between the two of you, but now you find yourself measuring ingredients and keeping the books. those were always acno's jobs.

♡ acnologia comes home covered in blood. it's not his. you can tell because it's black. the black blood of a fucking dragon, and suddenly you're dragging him into the back room, tears streaming down your face as you try to get answers from him. his voice is monotone as he confesses. you feel the world spin as the words dragon slayer magic, dragon festival, and dragon king run through your head. still, you patch him up.

♡ the days get longer and the nights shorter. acnologia seems calmer but... more distant. you notice the blood under his fingernails (not his. never his.) and the bags under his eyes, but damn is he good at distracting you. you know you should leave. you know dragon slayer magic is corruptive. you know what acnologia will turn into, but you relish every night that you can hold him close and press kisses to his crown.

♡ you rub salve into the scales that spread across acno's arms and cheeks. he brings you shiny stones and pretty glass. calls them courting gifts. it never fails to make you laugh. you eat more meat for dinner. you don't ask where it's from. you run the front end of the infirmary completely by yourself now, while acno stays in the back and prepares you potions. he doesn’t want to scare the kids that come to see you, and you take it as a sign of his persevering humanity. you start to think that maybe the idyllic life you've built together can go on forever.

♡ all you can think about is how green your village was, before it was consumed by dragon fire. the smoke makes your eyes burn, but you can't move from under the rubble. you can feel the dragon more than see it, its footsteps reverberating in your chest. you shut your eyes, tears streaming down your face, and accept death. but it doesn't come.

♡ your sweet, dear acnologia is unrecognizable. a blur of black and blue that makes the dragon screech in pain. it's quick, it's lethal, and it's terrifying. the dragon is dead, and you're sobbing for all that's changed in the past few years. the way acnologia pulls you out of the rubble isn't human, but it isn't dragon either. he clings to you, caresses your face, his worried words coming out in growls and roars. all you can do is reach up, brush your thumb across his cheek, and smile. it's still him, still your dear acnologia.

♡ you wake up on the outskirts of a town, bandaged roughly. you don't see acnologia for a long, long time after that fateful night. you set up a new infirmary, you treat new patients, you never forget the little boy with a constant sniffle that died in the dragon attack. and you never forget acnologia. in the dead of night, you let yourself imagine him coming home.

♡ it's so similar, you're getting deja vu. the town is burning, and you can barely breathe. you can move this time, though, and you run because you know he's not coming to save you. you make it to the edge of the forest, so close to safety. but a dragon blocks your path. scales dark as night, electric blue markings, and eyes that pierce your very soul.

♡ you fall to your knees and sob. you could never, never run from acnologia, even if it meant the end for you. you only wish that this won't hurt him. you look straight into your beloved's eyes, and you smile. tears streaming down your face, ash covering your cheeks, arms burned and angry red. you've never looked more beautiful. you close your eyes and wait for death. it doesn't come.

[gwojo]

Gojo Satoru as your bf

FEATURING: Gojo Satoru (五条悟)

gojo satoru x gn!reader, fluff, slight angst if u squint, basically just the things he'd do for you bc of how much he luvs u! wordcount: 622

We all know THEEEEE gojo satoru is so whipped when it comes to being in-love?! Some probably think he'll be clueless but when it comes to you, he's so knowledgeable with everything related to you

It started off as a lil crush on you and obviously we all know gojo is shameless when it comes to his feelings (except for dark and deep ones) so he kept on reminding u everyday that he had a interest on you

You both end up with each other while his students were also cheering you both on (it was so cute bc yuji was the happiest)

We all know gojo satoru is a very busy man, despite that he still makes time just to see you everyday, even making the higher ups angry due to him leaving his students in a abandoned hospital and he'd leave just to travel to you and see you.

Messages between you both weren't frequent, he will always find a way to see you irl but whenever he has to go overseas as his punishment for leaving his students without any supervision, that's where your notifications are FLOODING. LIKE NONSTOP.

Although he's at work at most times, he still somehow messages you??? like a lot?? so you ask him about it and he tells you that he messages u even when he's on a battle with cursed spirits

Honestly there would be more voice messages or calls in both of your dms because I reckon he's more of a call guy rather than a text guy

He'd always rant to you about how annoying the higher ups are and stuff, he's SUPER talkative but he always lets you speak first or after so you don't feel left out bc he rlly loves hearing ur voice

He's much of a "if he wanted to, he would" typa guy and honestly even if he didn't want to do it he would still do it for you, like even HIS FAVORITE Kikufuku he would still give it to you because of how much he loves you, he acts stingy most of the time but he'll always end up giving it to you

Whenever you have panic attacks or just anything general with having a bad day which results you into getting breakdowns, he'd always be there for you no matter what. Kisses and hugs, food, everything you ever loved, and him ofc

He never hated anything about you honestly, he just loved who you are and whenever you get insecure about the girls who chases him–he always end up flexing his wallet and his phone in front of their faces, why? because your face was plastered everywhere in it. LIKE EVEN HIS PHONE CASE IS YOU TAKING A MIRROR SELFIE, polaroid pictures were frequent with u (he keeps a pic of u in his wallet and also his students, even tho he doesn't use wallets.)

He'd call you "love, baby, sugarboo" most of the time, he's just so silly. He's a unserious guy tbh but he knows when to stop and where to stop whenever you actually get upset

Whenever he's upset because he got jealous when you were catching up with your bestfriend, he would stop talking to you or ignore you once you got home (trust me. he won't last after 20 minutes max.) so he gets all pouty but partially its a joke because he really trusts you with all his heart and he knows you won't replace him but he also gets upset and just a little kiss from you, he'll be back to normal (basically just bragging about how hot he is).. He'll always crave your presence no matter what, and nothing and no one will change that.

reblogs are appreciated! thank you for reading.

— © gwojo 2023. pls i advise u not to share on tiktok, plagiarize, repost on other platforms, copy, or translate.

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 8 (Part 2.3 of 2)

PART 2 OF PART 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+); smut (!!); angst; unprotected sex (p in v); jealousy; negative self-talk; negative body talk concerning body changes; talks of pregnancy; contemplation of terminating pregnancy; argument (includes: manipulation, misunderstanding, lying); masturbation (f! receiving); anxiety; stress; extreme feelings of sadness; abandonment issues; substance use (alcohol) (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 19.9k+

a/n: here it issss…. here’s the big thing: you’re going to be pissed w y/n a time or two & you’re just going to have to remember she’s sooo fucking stubborn. 🫠 (poor Jake) her healing journey starts sooner than you may think, though… 🖤

hopefully after you've read this part, you'll realize why i've included the bolded dates (i think most of you already knew what was coming though... lol). as the author, i believed the big event in this chapter required a timeline for you, as the reader, to keep track of order of events... makes things wrap together in a nice bow haha

@joshym, @alwaysonthemend, + @welightthefire, you three are so special to me and this story flourishes bc of your never ending support as i write. love u so much <3

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤

enjoy!

-🌼🌼🌼-

August 27, 2022

The golden morning light was nearly blinding. You shielded your face in the arm of the body beneath you. It was almost too much. . .  The warm body underneath you was almost too much. 

You remembered having sex with him, talking to him. . . but the details were fuzzy. . . your body felt so relaxed. . . There was so much you couldn’t recollect, but at that moment, it wasn’t a concern. Because Jake was with you and it wouldn’t be this way for much longer. You wanted to relish in this.

Everything that had been swirling in your mind for days was still very real. . . and you knew the list of reasons this was a bad idea were endless. You wished there wasn’t a list of reasons that haunted you– the old and the new. But there was a list and at this point, the reasons were mocking you for being where you were at this moment.

Curled up in Jake, your round ass pushing against his thick cock, already hard. The heat that radiated from him, combined with the feeling of his body pressed against yours, made you sticky with sweat. Your body was on fire. But you didn’t want to leave him. You couldn’t leave him. This feeling, him. . . so safe and cozy. 

This was a feeling you wanted to sink into. You blinked a few more times into the open air of your bedroom, seeing the dust particles floating in the rays of yellow sunlight flooding your room. 

As much as you didn’t want to leave Jake’s body, you knew you had to start the day at some point. You tried to sit up. But you instantly regretted it. Your head felt fuzzy. Fuck. 

Things were foggy as hell. This was always how you reacted to weed. One reason why you rarely smoked it. But you’d needed to last night. Needed that time, feeling free and loose. . . with Jake. Before your time with him came to its inevitable end.

Like it had become your daily routine, you started becoming consumed by several all-encompassing, nagging emotions. You hated how fucking complete you felt in his arms, in bed with him. . . but all it had taken were a few seconds passing before you started feeling the familiar, anxious spinning in your stomach. Turmoil. 

Josh’s words from outside your bedroom, bouncing around in your head. The rules that you’d set in place for a reason– to protect you both (though, they hadn’t worked on your end). The image of Maya, so beautiful and attentive . . . Dammit. The way your heart sunk in your chest, the sadness rushing through you, made a mess of emotions in the pit of your stomach.

And you knew that was your body’s way of signaling to you that it was time. Time to end things.

No matter how much your heart lurched at the thought. Your eyes filled with unshed tears, dreading it. 

But your body was persistent in communicating to you that it was the right move. To let him go.

You rejected it for just a small moment to turn and give him a kiss on the lips, your bare chest meeting his, which rose and fell underneath you.

Then you remembered–. The guys. In the living room. Shit.

You pulled away to pat his chest, trying to get him to come to. And he did, with one deep breath through his nose, blinking at you with sleepy eyes. He squinted, the sun in his eyes. You loved the way the light turned his eyes to dark honey. . . 

Now is not the time, y/n.

As soon as you knew he was awake, you were scrambling out of bed, finding a big t-shirt in your dresser and putting it on. Then you bent over, searching your underwear drawer for a new pair that wasn’t a fucking thong. . . you had too many thongs.

“That ass,” he said, voice gruff and low from sleep. “Damn, baby.”

You instantly felt wetness gather at your folds. Not. Now.

Last night was the last time. And it was going to stay that way.

Underwear, underwear, under– yes!

Finding a pair of black panties, you slipped them on hastily before yanking on a pair of pajama shorts that were laying on the ground. As you wrapped your hair up into a quick ponytail, at your vanity, you made the mistake of looking in the mirror. The bed perfectly placed in the mirror’s path, and a sight from the bed made your breath catch in your throat.  

Jake, in your bed, his long hair, still messy from sleep and sex. . . his deeply set, tired eyes. . . tanned skin, the perfect shade of brown after hours spent in the summer sun. The sight reflecting back at you was making your heart race. You caught your breath, taking in a sharp breath. The elbow, holding him up, while the other worked under the sheets. . . his eyes lust-filled and appreciating your exposed thighs. Fuck. 

So, abandoning your hair, you decided to not ignore the need that thrummed between your thighs, making your heart beat wildly in your chest. When he was laying there looking like that, you couldn’t refuse. His defined pecs and fit biceps flexed with each pump of his fist. Your building arousal was already ruining your new pair of panties. Best to not dirty another pair, right? 

Your legs walked on their own over to the bed while you stripped yourself of the clothes you’d just put on. He sat up, as your eyes surely told him of what you wanted. And in no time, you were on top of him, as he deliciously stretched you, opening you up for him. He held your ass for a moment, aiding you in your movements. His lips found your nipples, hardened and begging for his attention. 

As he lifted his hips to start a rhythm inside of you, the pressure was just right, and his tip was massaging you exactly where you needed him. With every hard rock of his hips, you were pushing down against his thrusts. Languid, lazy sounds sighed from your mouth. . . The friction was heavenly. Both of you, relentless with your unsteady tempo of vigorous need– back and forth, back and forth.

He sensed it coming before you did, as you were too distracted by his handsome face. His mouth, opening in the slightest any time your walls clenched around him. Brows dipped in with deep concentration, balancing his view from where your bodies connected, and then back to your eyes. He reached between you, a skilled thumb making tight circles against your sensitive, swollen clit. And, much too soon, you were coming undone, the familiar burn in your belly, your body buzzing and walls fluttering around him at a rapid speed. You threw your head back, riding it out. You never wanted it to end. He felt so fucking good inside of you– filling you all the way up. 

With one hand on your breast, and another on your hip, he used that as leverage to pull out of you. And, without thinking much of it, you got on all fours, knees digging into the mattress, wanting to bare your ass to him. You heard him let out a shaky breath, before he was following, raising to his knees. As soon as he was where he needed to be, he released, warm on your back. He gripped your ass with a strong hand, the flesh putty in his hands as you pushed back against him, your ass meeting his thighs. 

More, more, more, more, mor–

And, without any stimulation, save for the feeling of him still spilling onto your back and his tight hold on your ass, you were finishing again, your body shaking, pussy clenching around nothing. Your arms almost gave out where they held you up. You tried to keep your whining quiet, remembering why you had been worried about your predicament before.

“Holy fucking shit,” he moaned, his tone throaty. “Did you just–? Again?”

“Y-yeah,” you sighed, feeling completely refreshed, your body still wracking from the effects of your orgasm. And finally, you let your arms give out. But before you could reach the mattress, he was pulling you back to him, sitting you on his lap again as he gave you a full kiss on the mouth, his tongue pushing through your lips. 

You reciprocated, tangling your tongue with his, the sound of wet kisses encapsulated your room. The apartment was so quiet–silent, even–save for the sounds of your sighs. The world was nearly drowned out. The only thing that existed was Jake, the taste of his sweet mouth, and the feeling of his lips melding to yours. 

But you broke from the escape, the silence of the apartment getting pierced by the telling signs of someone yawning loudly in the living room. You were up without even thinking about it. You hurriedly re-dressed, and before you opened the door, you glanced back at him.

“You were never in here,” you hushed, before shutting the door to go into the living room.

Thankfully, Sammy and Danny were still asleep. But your eyes found Josh, who was rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands. 

“What time is it?” He grumbled. And as he closed his eyes with another yawn, you saw movement from the corner of your eye. You peeked from Josh to see Jake, dressed again, silently shutting your door and heading to his own bedroom. 

As much as you wanted to go to him, you looked at the glowing green time on the oven. Your eyes bugged at the hour, and you rushed to check your schedule on the fridge. 

Shit. While your mind was already tumbling with reasons to call it quits, you just added one more to the list. Until Jake, you’d never been so forgetful of your work schedule. But as of right now, your mind was way too preoccupied with him. You winced at the idea of becoming that forgetful with school. You had to be more responsible. 

You had less than thirty minutes before you had to be walking into the Black and Gold.

“Y/n?” Josh called, still slowly coming to.

“It’s one in the afternoon,” you rushed out, practically sprinting to the bathroom, from where you finished your statement. “I’m gonna be late for fucking work.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

You’d been correct– ending up at the B&G ten minutes late. That had never happened before in the history of you working at the shop. It pissed you off to no end that you had let yourself be so irresponsible. 

You spent your entire shift thinking of all the things you’d let take precedence in your life above your job and your school. . . In recent days, you’d spent a ridiculous amount of time thinking of Jake to the point of being stressed enough that he’d noticed, told his brother. . . which resulted in a night of getting high to rid yourself of the nerves. You’d let yourself partake in it even when you knew it made you so incredibly fuzzy. On a night where you worked the next day. 

Then, there was the sex that had happened last night, this morning. . . making you lose track of time. There was one common denominator. He’d become too important. A distraction. And you feared being the same to him. You’d had your fun and now it was time to give it up.

You fucking hated the idea of having to do it– made tears moisten your eyes. But you would be okay. And Jake would definitely be okay. You weren’t to him what he was to you. (Why that felt wrong to think, you didn’t know. . .) He had a woman to lean back on, if he wanted one. A woman much more fit for him than you could ever be. 

And, chances were, he was bound to leave what you had for her eventually, so you felt it best to end things now before he could. It would hurt you less to take the initiative now. You didn’t want to risk the pain that would come with him fully rejecting you for another. The idea of Jake leaving you high and dry like your mother had sounded horrible. And you did not want to experience it.

By the time you were turning off the lights and locking the doors to the store, you’d made up your mind. Tomorrow. You were going to rip the damn bandaid off. There were too many reasons indicating you needed to. Before it was too late.

-🌼🌼🌼-

August 28, 2022

He would be home any minute. Your leg was bouncing with pent up nerves that wouldn’t be released until you said what you needed to. Your palms were sweaty, making you need to repeatedly wipe them on the worn denim of your jeans. And anytime you’d wipe them off, you’d grab your phone off the counter, checking it unnecessarily. Because even after you’d wipe them, they’d still shake with nervous jitters, and you needed something to do with them.

The sound of the key unlocking the door made your stomach twist. Suddenly, you were questioning yourself. Questioning what you’d been planning on doing.

I’m not ready. I don’t want to do this. It can wait. It’s not time. I don’t want this.

But it was necessary. 

And plenty of those thoughts had become too insistent for you to ignore. Even as you watched him set his guitar and amp down in the living room, through the opening of the kitchen. You were longing to ask him about his day. Or ask him to watch a tv show or movie with you. Tease him and make him follow you to bed. . .

But in spite of all of that, you knew what was right. 

Don’t be selfish, y/n. You know what is best for him. For you. For both of you. Don’t you dare chicken out. Continuing this cycle of selfishness will end badly. You know it. Stick to the plan.

So, when he finally walked into the kitchen to cross off his day of work on his fridge calendar, humming what you assumed to be a new song. . .you decided to not waste time. It would hurt less. 

Rip the bandaid clean off.

You cleared your throat before speaking, leaning even further into the kitchen counter. You wanted to sink into it. Hide. “Hey.”

He jumped, holding his chest. “You’ve gotta stop scaring me like that,” he laughed, crossing the day off his rehearsal schedule. 

Then, when he looked over his shoulder at you, you almost lost your motivation. 

Those eyes. . .

But you persisted. For you. For him. 

“We need to talk,” you said, the words feeling thick in your throat. 

And when he turned to face you fully, his brows were scrunched with confusion and concern. 

“You okay?” He inquired. “I wondered why you didn’t talk to me when you got home from work last night. Is something happening at the Black and G–?”

Rip. It. Off.

“We’re done,” you stated. You suddenly felt completely frozen, time beginning to move around you much faster than you could keep up with. The words were trapped in the air with you, hanging there.

He just stared at you, eyes round and questioning. He blinked a couple times, his lips on the verge of a smirk, but ultimately staying in a straight line, as if not sure how to react. “What?”

Keep going.

“We’re done,” you repeated, the words coming out a little easier the second time. “I’m calling it quits. I can’t do this anymore.”

He took a couple steps towards you, then took them back. He turned, looking at the kitchen cabinets as a hand held his chin. He used one finger to scratch at a brow. 

Still looking away, he spoke again. “Why?”

You felt the heartache begin again, not wanting to do what you knew you had to. Prior to this, you’d decided anytime you felt the sorrow creep up, you would replace it with anger. Fight the weak emotion with a stronger one. You’d bury the sad, and use anger instead. It would help you and him in the long run. It would.

“I hate when you fucking ask that,” you snapped, your head feeling heavy and the words wrong. 

His brown eyes got big, shocked. “Where is this coming from?”

“I told you, Jake,” you said, clearing your throat to eliminate the tears. You want this. “I told you that night at the bowling alley. I said if one of us wanted to end this, the other one has to be okay with it, without any questions asked. That was a rule,” you reiterated, standing firm on the words you’d stupidly spoken in the past. They were your shaky wall of defense in this situation, where you felt defenseless against yourself. “And right now, I don’t want to answer questions. I just want to say it’s over and you be okay with it.”

He scoffed, scratching his cheek before running the hand through his hair. He leaned against the counter closest to him, across the kitchen from you. Come closer. Please. 

But he didn’t. He just crossed his arms and pierced you with his dark eyes.

“That’s not how normal people do things, y/n,” he clarified, like he was talking to a child. 

You didn’t have to fake anger in response to that. Don’t tell me things like I’m an idiot. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You fumed, your coolness fading quickly. 

“Goddamn, y/n,” he swallowed hard and looked out the little window above your head, right above the lavender. “Stop acting so fuckin’ obtuse. You know exactly what I mean.”

“Yeah, that’s why I asked,” you griped sardonically, silently begging him to look at you as your eyes followed him. “Because I speak fucking asshole I knew what you meant by that. You’re right.”

He brought a hand up to his face, covering his eyes before letting it run down to rest at his chin. He was losing his patience. This should be good. Why didn’t it feel that way? This was what you wanted. He let his eyes rest on his feet, refusing to acknowledge your stare.

“I’m still trying to figure out where this is coming from,” he said, reiterating his prior question. “Yesterday morning, everything was normal. We were fine. How were you able to just turn all of that off?” 

You were at a loss. How in depth were you supposed to go with him? Should you be honest? Or should you lie? Cover up the truth with blanket statements and lies? You weren’t sure. . . 

So you just started talking. And a lie came out first.

“I had a quiz this past Friday and I failed it,” you said, the untrue words feeling dirty coming out of your mouth. Trying to cover up the lie with a truth, you continued. “I keep getting distracted and it’s never been like this for me before. Since my first day of Freshman year at Pratt, I’ve never failed a quiz.” And I still haven’t, you finished silently, guiltily. “I just know that the reason I’m so distracted is because of this,” you motioned between the two of you, even though he was still looking at the ground. “Because of us. It’s not healthy.”

He finally brought his gaze up from the floor, interlocking it with yours. And if you thought the guilt from lying was bad before, it was even worse as you looked into his eyes. 

“How is the relationship we have not healthy?” He asked, truly wondering. 

Relationship. 

You decided to be as honest as possible to keep your guilty conscience at bay. 

“For one, it’s distracting me from classes. And two, it’s not a relationship. It’s been a rule since the beginning–the number one rule, actually– and I made it a rule because I knew I couldn’t handle a relationship right now.” All of that was mostly honest. Doing great. “I have other things I need to be focusing on right now. . .dedicating my time to. And from the beginning, this has only been sex,” okay, that was a lie. “And I wanted it to be that way so when the time came for me to cut it off, it would be easier. I made it that way on purpose.”

The way he was watching you with rapt attention, actually hearing you out, it made your heart jump into your throat. I don’t want to be doing this right now. I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose him.

Don’t be selfish, y/n, your brutally honest inner voice combated you. 

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” He asked, his voice indicating he was eager to assist you however you may need. 

Keep going. 

You swallowed the tears, your voice low with the tears that vanished. “Yes, you can help me by not challenging this right now.”

He breathed in deeply, his jaw clenching. “It’s not that easy for me.”

“It has to be.”

This isn’t easy for me either. 

“See, it’s always been like this with you,” he started, leaning a shoulder against the fridge, his face turning harder than before. “You think you can just control everything and everyone around you. But you can't, that's not how life works. There are other people in your life with real emotions–real feelings–that you don’t get to dictate.”

You felt utterly singled out, and it made your blood turn to fire in your veins. 

Who is he to say all of this?

“Why do you want to put up with me when you view me so horribly anyways?” You spit out, your eyes growing wet in spite of yourself.

He saw the tears in your eyes, and on instinct, started walking towards you, his entire face softening in response. But you put up a hand to stop him, your rigid expression and body communicating for you. 

“I don’t view you horribly,” he said, tone sincere. He sighed, stopping at the island between you, resting his hands stop it. “You know that.”

You watched the way his hands held so tightly to the counter. He was like his brother in a few ways, you’d come to notice. One of which being how passionate he could become when talking about something that meant a lot to him. And at this moment, you saw how deeply he felt for what he was saying. His entire body exuded his emotions— when he let them show. . . 

And, for the past couple of months, you’d been lucky enough to witness him bringing those walls down. Especially during the past month of sleeping with him, growing intimate with him. . . In this moment, you despised the fact that you were so freely giving that up. You selfishly wanted to keep all of those pieces of him. 

Frames of time fluttered through your mind, showing how he would watch you, so affectionately. You heard words that had been spoken, so caring and genuine. . .How patient he’d been so many times. . .

But, just now when he’d called you out on your control issues? Had he thought that all along? Had he felt animosity towards the way you liked control? Or, on the other side of the coin, had he only been pitying you all along? Putting up with you? Had he just started caring about you because he felt like he had to? You were the one who had pushed this thing between the two of you in the first place. . . maybe he hadn’t wanted it as badly as you. Maybe he’d just given in, and ended up sticking around for it because he felt bad for you and got free sex on his end.

He’d left the comfort of Maya for the chaos of you. You were sure he’d do it again if you gave him long enough. . . Because all you’d done was add trouble to his life with the way you naturally were. The obnoxious, broken, damaged person you were. Your baggage was heavy and you knew it was due time before it weighed him completely down.

“Well I’m sorry I’m such an inconvenience,” you fought back, guarded tears growing thicker in your eyes. You couldn’t will them away this time. “You’ve said what you wanted to say; it’s off your chest. So just let yourself be done with me,” you bitterly insisted. “Take a fucking breather from the ravaging storm that is me.”

“I never–,” he shook his head, looking away. A sharp breath had his lip curling as his hands went to comb through his hair. His eyes were wet when you saw them next. Fuck. Please don’t cry, baby.  “That’s not what I fucking mean and you know it! Why are you always assuming the worst about me? Always.”

“I don’t!” You argued, not believing your words for a second. You knew he was right. The tears, still resting at your ducts, started trickling down your cheeks. “I just– I know I have shit wrong with me. I know I’m the most controlling fucking person. I know that. But I’ve been through too fucking much to believe that you could actually want me. You shouldn’t want me, Jake! I’m–,” you started, choking on a sob. “I don’t even–. . .” You went to meet him across the island, putting your forearms on the counter as you rested your head between them. You let the tears win, letting them flow easily. Relentless trails of mascara on your cheeks and the arms you were crying into, you were sure. 

When you looked up to see him again, he was no longer standing there. 

See, Jake? You don’t want to stay. Why would you? Leave while you can. But why do I feel like I need you to stay? How did it come to this? 

Just as you were turning to look out the window to contemplate, he was back in the kitchen, a wet washcloth held in his hand. 

Stop taking care of me. You’re better than this.

But before you could argue with him, he was coming around the island to meet you, touching the warm cloth to your dampened cheek. And, like the selfish person you were, you let him clean your cheeks of the blackened tracks.

You stopped him, midway through him tending to the left side of your face, grabbing the cloth from him. “I can take it from here,” you muttered pitifully. “Please stop doing this.”

He relented, giving the cloth and standing across from you. His eyes watched you conscientiously as you finished cleaning your face. You set the cloth down on the counter. 

His brows were knitted when he spoke next. “Stop doing what?”

You choked on a dry sob. “Helping me,” you responded resolutely. And when it looked like he was about to fight you on it, you chose to bring out the knives and lies again. Don’t break, y/n. With your next words, you looked away from him. At your feet instead. Freshly painted, black toenails matching your heart.“I don’t want you to.” 

You had to lie. You had to protect him and his future from you. He had to get rid of you to do what was best for himself. But when you peered up at him through your wet lashes again, you questioned your methods. A tear slipped down his cheek, and he quickly sniffed, bringing a hand to his face to get rid of the exposure of emotion. 

He turned to look straight ahead, away from you. He looked up at the ceiling, putting his flexing hands in his front pockets. 

When he looked at you next, his eyes were still wet, but there was a fire behind them. God, you fucking hated this. “Is that what you truly want? All of this? Gone? Over? You don’t want any of what we’ve had?”

You couldn’t stand seeing him like this. This needed to be over. Your heart couldn’t handle much more of this.

“I don’t want you,” you said, bile rising in your throat. Fucking liar. “I never wanted you as badly as I let on. I just wanted sex and you were an easy target because you live with me. Available whenever I needed you.” Your throat constricted, heart racing. You didn’t look away from him, pinning him with your eyes, trying your best to void them of any emotion. “And I don’t need you anymore,” you said, the words tight and constricting your opposing heart. “You’ve served your purpose.”

His lips curl into a shaky smile, mirroring shock and disbelief. Brown eyes, pooling with tears despite how hard set they are. “So you don’t love me?”

Love him? What?

And then it was rushing back. 

Your mind, foggy and heart, completely transparent.

What you’d admitted to yourself and him in the hallway outside your room. 

Had he said it back? The details were fading from your memory, blurry at best. You couldn’t remember. 

Had you said it in response to him or just to expose yourself to him? 

Did you love him? Truly? 

You closed your eyes, needing to find a level ground as you felt completely shaky and unbalanced. How had you been so careless with your words? 

What did you feel? 

You know exactly how you feel, a calm, careful voice settled in your ear. You don’t have to deny it. 

Yes, I do. If I do love him, I have to deny it. It’s what’s best for him.

“When did I say that?” You asked, avoiding it to start.

His eyes cleared, opening up as if he were getting somewhere with you. 

You’re a coward, y/n. 

“The other night,” he clarified, sniffling again. “When the guys were here.”

I know.

“I don’t remember saying it,” you stated, firm. “So, maybe I did,” you said, his eyes still hopeful. “But if I was high when I said it, there was no validity behind it. I wasn’t me. My head was in the clouds.” His jaw set, lips a hard line. Tense. “So it’s not fucking true. That’s something that someone would remember saying if they actually meant it. And I don’t.”

This was all a giant fucking mess. Why did it have to be like this?

He only stared at you, his nostrils flaring. His eyes were narrowed. His thoughts, most likely spinning. He just didn’t articulate any of the thoughts you knew to be buzzing in his head. He closed his eyes, pushing his thumb and pointer finger against his eyelids. When he opened them, the blank look on his features was worse than any anger he’d ever emitted. 

The emotion was drained from him. Though, his hands were shaking as he untucked them into his front pockets. 

“Okay,” he responded, his tone matching his empty expression. He took a deep breath and went to turn around to leave the kitchen, messing with his hair.

One of his nervous ticks, you thought, morosely. 

But. . . You weren’t done. This couldn’t be it. 

You suddenly didn’t want this conversation to be over. We aren’t done yet. There was no closure for me. No agreement on his end.

You’d made the terrible realization that once this talk was over, you two were over. Ripping the bandaid off didn’t seem so attractive anymore. It was stupid, but you were already missing him as you watched him walk away. The sight of him leaving made even more tears accumulate in your eyes. You knew he wasn’t done— and neither were you. 

You snapped. “Jacob!”

Saying his name stopped him right before he could exit the kitchen. 

His shoulders tensed as he turned slowly, facing you. His expressionless face now took on all of the emotion you knew he wanted to feel.  

That’s it, you thought, challenging the man in front of you. Keep up with me.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” He snapped, patience completely gone. 

The line was being drawn. And as invisible as it was, you could still swear you saw it being drawn in the space between you and where he stood. 

“I want you to say that this is fucking over,” you fumed, your voice raising. 

He laughed hotly, rolling his eyes. He rubbed his chin, contemplating his next words. “I don’t want it to be fucking over. I want you to stop whatever game you’re playing. I know you and I know this is coming from somewhere deep in the roots of your trauma.”

“Don’t you dare use my trauma against me, fucker!” You roared, your skin red hot. 

He pointed a finger at you, accusing. “I am not using it against you! I’m trying to get you to snap out of this!”

“Snap out of what?!” You sneered back. You crossed your arms to hide the fact that you were shaking. “Finally being honest with you?!” You paused, a part of your heart break open of its own accord. “You were just going to fucking leave me anyway. This wasn’t meant to last. It never was.”

“Leave you?! That’s the last thing I want. I don’t want to leave you,” he begged you to understand. 

Your heart pressed firmly to your chest with how hard it was pounding. “My own fucking mom did it, Jake! So what in the hell would stop you from doing it, too?” You blinked away the tears that came with the way you were hurting yourself with these words. 

He brought two fisted hands to his eyes, his body stock still, but chest heaving as he let the words sit in the air around you. 

The words hanging in the air were mocking you, though, and you needed to hear him speak to clear their torment.

“Ja—.”

“Do not let your trauma dictate who you choose to think I am. Don’t use it as a way to tell me who I am. I’m not your mom. I’m not the people who have left you,” he breathed deeply, finally showing you his eyes. They were red. And as he ferociously wiped at his cheeks yet again, you noticed why they were bloodshot. When had he started crying? His hands flattened next to him with his next words, spread out and making a point. “Stop acting like I’m someone I’m not when I’ve proven that wrong time and again by being there for you.”

Your heart swelled in your chest, wanting nothing more than to cross the room and kiss him. Let him know how much you needed him and how the words you’d spoken in the hallway were true. 

But what’s best for him? His career? Remember how Josh said he didn’t need this right now? And neither do you.

“Well, I don’t want it,” you repeated your lie. “Accept that.”

Within seconds, his eyes shifted from sad and pleading to. . . Vacant. Right in front of your eyes, you witnessed how it felt to return back to square one with him. 

And you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so fucking terrible.

“I accept it,” he relented, tone empty of any feeling. Come back to me. “We’re done.”

The way your heart fell all the way to your feet— how your knees felt as though they would buckle under the heavy weight of emotion— made you regret every single thing you’d said. 

At that moment, you wanted to take it all back. But it was too late. 

The man you saw in front of you wasn’t your Jake. 

The man you saw was the one who’d entered your apartment on that destined day in May. Before you could even think to say anything to cut through the heaviness penetrating the room, he was gone. 

And you were giving into the way your knees begged to let you fall and you did, back against the opposite side of the island so he couldn’t see you. The tears fell, silent and unrelenting, as you heard the front door open and harshly close. Signaling the end you didn’t want, whatsoever.

-🌼🌼🌼-

October 2, 2022

A little over one month later. . .

You woke up slowly, not wanting to face the day. 

Life was stressful and weird right now, and every time your eyes blinked open to face a new morning, you dreaded what the day might come with. 

Thankfully today, you had a distraction from the sadness of life. You were meeting with Theo across town at a coffee shop to study for an upcoming exam in one of your more studious courses.

When you’d created your course schedule for this semester, you’d loaded yourself down with 12 credits in required courses, and 4 credits in electives. You’d thought it to be a good idea: make your senior year count with a giant ass course load. Next semester was outlined as well. . . With 16 credits of its own.

But, it was not the best idea. 

It was causing waves upon waves of stress that you really didn’t need. You were grateful for how it helped (a little) in distracting you from your sorrow after losing what you had with Jake. . . But it made you dread going to school even more than you already did. You weren’t able to catch your breath. You’d never dreaded school until recently. You were going to school for writing when you still found yourself lacking a passion for it. The only thing that you looked forward to were the few music courses you had to take for your minor. 

The giant course load, the long hours at the B&G now that Josh only worked one day a week, Jake’s presence, Jake’s lack of presence. 

Your group of people had become extremely absent due to constantly working in the recording studio. Yes, recording studio. You were beyond proud and completely happy for them. . . but you’d hardly seen any of them for the past month. Even the one who lived with you. . . And the one thing you still had after you broke things off with Jake was at least having the opportunity to look at him every now and then. 

And, although you wouldn’t speak it out loud, you were so very glad that neither of you had brought up the prospect of him moving out amidst that terrible conversation in the kitchen. All you had left with him was the occasional glance (you to him, of course; he never looked at you anymore). 

Humiliating as it was, you hated the idea of him moving out. Even though you knew it would be coming sooner rather than later with his career picking up. But, even though he still lived with you, your schedules never aligned for you to see him much. The guys were recording artists now. They’d spent all of September, working with their manager as they accepted a record deal and started the process of recording music.

It was truly what all of their dreams were made of, and it was what you wanted Jake to have all along. . . But you selfishly missed seeing him. You were excited for him with what the future might bring, but you were also dreading his complete and utter lack of presence in your life. . . The thoughts of it all were draining you. 

All of the stress over that and school, had even started causing you to have a super upset stomach— you were vomiting every day from all that weighed on your mind – the jumbled mess your life had become. So, that’s why you’d made the executive decision to create some sort of schedule of things to distract you. You cleaned every Saturday evening, you met with Theo every Sunday, you jogged every morning like you used to (especially since you’d started fucking stress eating). . . 

You’d even taken time to try and healthily write thoughts in your journal, rather than keeping them all in your messy head. Although, all they did was translate as a depressing, convoluted mess on the pages.

But none of your coping strategies were truly what you wanted. What you were craving most was the person you’d pushed out of your life. The person who was now gone more than he was home. And when he was home, and you were able to catch a glimpse of him, all it did was hurt to look at him. Things were tense; you couldn’t even talk to him the way you wanted. It just hurt to be near him at all. But you wanted him. You just wanted him in ways you knew you couldn’t have him. Especially after you’d been the one to break things off.

You were upset that you’d gotten into anything with him in the first place. You knew it wasn’t meant to last, but you’d still let yourself get caught up in him. It had been impossible not to. It was all so natural with him. It was a giant joke that the universe had cast on your life: the one person you wanted was the one you could never have. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

October 8, 2022

Your boobs were hurting like you were about to start your period.

Anytime they felt heavy, looked bigger, or itched, you knew it was coming.

A telling sign. And for a week or two, they’d been that way.

It made you think about checking the period tracker app on your phone— see when it was coming. And when you had checked it, you realized you were late.

It’s because of all of the fucking stress, you thought, deducing it to only that to keep from worrying about anything else. There was no way it was anything else anyway. 

The only person you’d had sex with in recent months was Jake and he always pulled out. There was also the added piece of how you’d been weaning off of birth control for the past several  months. Late periods were known to occur while going off of that particular drug. 

You were checking the toilet paper every time you went pee, waiting to see blood on it. And when you finally did see just the slightest bit of blood, you decided to check for tampons in your bathroom cabinet. 

Aaand. . . You realized you were out of them. 

Needing to go to Walmart for a few groceries anyway (you’d eaten all of the Cosmic Brownies you’d recently bought and needed more immediately), you decided to make a quick run for necessities.

-🌼🌼🌼-

It took you longer than you had planned trying to find a box of damn tampons. Walmart was sold out of your go-to’s, and searching Google to figure out a good environmentally-friendly dupe was harder than you’d anticipated.

But, it must have been your lucky day. Because, as you stood there, a graying woman in the tell-tale blue vest came up with totes to stock the shelves. And, as she started unloading, you saw a box of your normal brand of products in a tote. 

Walking over, you started to kindly ask if you could have one of the boxes of tampons in her tote. . .but the smell of her perfume was so strong and outrageously floral– you could smell every hint of artificial rose. Your stomach churned at the obtrusion to your nose, so you backed away a bit to gain your bearings.

You went ahead and asked once you’d settled back a foot or two. When she smiled back at you, you felt bad for being so grossed out by the smell of her perfume, but damn she’d layered it on thick . . .

“Which kind, sweetheart?” Her voice wobbled with her age, the hump in her back much more prominent when she went to bend down to grab it for you.

You extended a delicate hand, touching her frail arm to stop her. “Oh, ma’am,” you said, causing her to look up at you. “You don’t have to get them out. I can do it.” She raised a brow, so you hastily added, “If you don’t mind, of course.”

It took everything in you to not help her up from her slightly bent position, as you didn’t want to break any boundaries. You also weren’t sure if you could handle being so close to her with the way she smelled like an artificial flower shop. . .your tummy was still rolling with the scent and you didn’t want to puke on the poor thing. 

When she stood back up, as straight as she could, her smile was bright behind her magenta lipstick. 

“Oh, sweetie,” she winked a glassy eye, placing her hand on your arm this time. You smiled as she continued, “You are one of the rare ones, aren’t you?” 

“What do you mean?” You giggled, holding your nose a bit when her hand came up to touch you. How much of the stuff had she sprayed on herself?

“Willing to help your elders?” She questioned, thankfully letting go and stepping back again. 

You took a breath and blinked, not expecting that. “Oh, of course. I wouldn’t ever think of doing anything different,” you shook your head, your grin sticking to your lips. “I don’t want you having to do that for me.”

“Well, you are just too sweet, honey. If you’re sure, I’m going to continue stocking. You go ahead and get it out, honey.”

With that, she walked back to her prior job. 

And when you bent to get your tampons, your stomach lurched. Again. Just like it’d been doing for the past week or so. But, you felt like you might actually vomit, and you didn’t want to do that in the Walmart totes. So, you put a hand to your mouth when you stood back up. 

The woman—Wanda, her name tag said— looked over at you. Her brow wrinkled when she asked, “You alright, honey?”

Swallowing, you nodded, knitting a brow. “Oh, yeah. Don’t you worry about me.”

She nodded back, almost turning back to her job when she stopped. “You know, it’s so funny. I remember once back in my day, when I was around your age, I was in an aisle just like this one. . . Getting my own napkins, searching high and low for them,” she chuckled. You smiled kindly, unsure of why she was telling you this. You were about to turn on your heel with a quick goodbye when her voice stopped you. “But, it’s funny, I searched so hard that day, and later that week. . . I found out I was pregnant!” She got a kick out of that one, slapping her tiny thigh. “I’d been late for weeks.”

In contrast to her humorous state, your stomach sank. . . Plummeting to your knees. 

But before you could say anything back, she was being called by her supervisor to help locate an item. She waved a quick goodbye, and you barely registered it. Your thoughts were going insane.

No. There was no way. You knew you were late. . . But you weren’t that late. 

School had just been stressful. Your anxiety building up to you being sick and everyth—. Fuck. Your nausea. 

No. No no no no.

It wasn’t possible.

Standing stock still in that aisle, you measured your thoughts the best you could. Tried to make them all slow the fuck down. Flashbacks of Jake infiltrated your mind, him being the only one to have aided in that possibility.

The only guy you’d slept with in months. And he always, always pulled out. Without fail. Fuck. Absolutely not. Why were you even thinking of him? Of that? Entertaining that thought? 

It wouldn’t have even been a blip of an idea had that lady not mentioned anything. Hurriedly, you scampered down the aisle, wanting to get out of dodge of the ladies’ aisle. But just as you’d passed the pregnancy tests, you stopped in your tracks, walking back to them. 

There is no fucking way this is possible, you thought. You shook your head, almost continuing out of the aisle again. 

But. That dreadful voice nagged at you, causing you to stay in your place. 

Better safe than sorry, y/n, it seemed to remark smartly to you. What’s the harm in checking?

And without really thinking, you were getting out your phone to search for the most accurate tests. You weren’t about to get a false positive that might freak you out for no reason. As you navigated the best brands on a blog, bile rose in your throat, your tummy doing somersaults. 

You didn’t want to think about it as you eyed the Clear Blue tests. This was stupid anyway. But you went to grab one, in spite of you knowing you literally weren’t pregnant. 

You didn’t know why you were fucking embarrassed as you reached for the box of tests. It wasn’t like you weren’t a grown ass fucking woman. And it wasn’t like you were actually pregnant. There was no way in hell. This was just a precaution to prove to yourself that you were overthinking things. There was no way.

Every single time you’d been with Jake, he’d pulled out. Every. Single. Ti–.

Then, it came back. The night you’d gotten high on Josh’s fucking green. 

Fuck. 

It had been one of the most euphoric times you’d had sex with Jake. That much you could remember–and you hadn’t forgotten how good it had felt for a damn second. And, the more you thought about it. . . It dawned on you as your stomach rolled. 

Knowing how into it you’d been. . . How good it had been. The weed hindering your decision— probably hadn’t used fucking protection then. 

Dammit.

Most likely, you knew he hadn’t pulled out. You’d both been so out of it. . . too lost in the moment. (A moment that you had, admittedly, been waiting for– feeling his naked cock inside of you, throbbing as he released his hot seed inside of you. . .)

And, as you stood under the judging, bright fluorescent lights of fucking Wally World, the words were coming back to you. . . the entire moment was flooding back to you. Whether you wanted it to or not.

You felt your legs quiver, your heat clenched around him as your clit twitched with need. 

So close. Fuck. 

His eyes rolled, his lids shutting with the feeling. He bit his pink lip. His lips, still swollen from your kisses and shiny from your release. The butterflies in your stomach started fluttering ferociously, the familiar feeling overtaking you as your body trembled– your nerves humming. 

You were about to finish. And you had to do it with him. 

Completely. 

“Y/n,” he gasped, warning you. “I’m going to fucking cum.”

You felt his cock pulse inside of you, confirming his words. 

“I know,” you said, for the third time. “But I need to feel you. I want you to finish inside of me.”

His eyes bugged. “Y/n– fuck. No. No. You are under the influence. You don’t want–.”

You felt your chest flare with irritation at his words. “Jake, I swear to fuck,” you whined, your eyes shutting as one particular nudge of his cock against your folds pushed you nearly over the edge. “Please, Jake. Please, baby. I promise you won’t be taking advantage or some shit. I need it. Please. Let me have it. Just this one time.”

Let our last time be special, you thought. You tried to let your eyes echo your thoughts, willing him to understand. 

He seemed to, because his next words were less apprehensive– an air of eagerness and an air of excitement painting his tone with his next words. “Are you sure?”

“More than sure,” you reassured, smoothing your thumb across his sharp cheekbone. 

And with one last buck from his hips, your clit twitched and your legs turned to Jell-o. All composure was lost–shuddering and heart chanting his name. 

Then, with a final groaned growl, his eyelids drooped, and his irises hazily watched you. His mouth relaxed to an ‘o’ shape, just the same as it did when he played his beloved instrument. You felt the glorious feeling of his release, as he spilled warm and plentiful inside of you. 

You remember now that, in your hazy state, you’d banked on everything being okay. Because you were going to get a Plan B. . .

But, there’d never been a Plan B. 

You felt a cold sweat develop on your forehead as your hands became clammy with fear. Your hand trembled as you held the box of Clear Blue tests tightly to your chest. 

You didn’t need this. Fuck. He didn’t need this.

It was just a fluke. There was no way. It was one time.

So, that’s why, when you reached out to get a box of First Response tests, you knew it was just to back up what you knew. 

Two different types of tests to confirm the truth. Double reassurance.

It was not possible at all that you were pregnant. How fucking often does it happen after just one time? An hour later, when you got home, you decided to push the tests all the way to the back of your underwear drawer. 

You decided to hide them because you knew it was stupid to even begin to think of the impossible. And you were not about to entertain such an asinine idea. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

October 15, 2022

You put off taking the test for as long as you possibly could. Tried to ignore the fact that it was even in your drawer.

Even though you knew there was a chance that you were, you didn’t want to sit on it, in the case that it might not be true. Because it more than likely wasn’t. But when that week trickled into the next, and you still hadn’t been greeted by Aunt Flo, you started getting more and more worried. 

And the puking didn’t let up for anything. . . In fact, only getting progressively worse. 

Which, on the Saturday of the next week, clicked as a horrid sign to you. 

No.

Surely the fuck not. It was just stress. There was no harm in taking the test to prove yourself right. So, you gave in and went to grab the test after you’d done your newly scheduled weekly cleaning of the apartment, that next Saturday night. You decided it was ideal to do it then since Jake was gone performing at another festival with the guys.

Halloween-themed festival this time. . . And as fun as it’d sounded, you knew when Josh had texted you about it that there was no way in hell you were going to go to that. 

Biggest reason being that you and Jake were still not on speaking terms, and you didn’t want to test those waters. You also didn’t want to run the risk of seeing Maya. Because you already knew that seeing her might actually make you keel over and vomit. 

And also, Elsie was too busy to attend, so you for goddamned sure weren’t going to attend and experience anything negative without your wingwoman. So, you’d given a half-assed, ridiculous excuse of homework. Thankfully, he was wonderfully Josh and didn’t give you any trouble over it.

But, it meant Jake was gone tonight, and you could take the test without running into him. The night was still young, and you had plenty of time to get it done and out of the way before he got back.

Grabbing the tests felt like you were taking a giant leap into a field of the unknown and that was terrifying as hell to you. But you didn’t let it stop you from reaching your shaking hand into the deepest tresses of your underwear drawer. Once in hand, you rushed to the bathroom.

Calm down, y/n. Just breathe, you coached yourself, as you read the giant Over 99% Accurate! at the top of each box. Chances are very slim. You just have to take the tests. 

You read the instructions on the back of each box at least five times. Each box had three different forms of tests: two regular tests and one digital for both brands. And you were about to pee on all six. 

Wait. That might not work. How do you even stall your fuckin’ pee like that? For six tests? And still be totally sure it’s accurate? You didn’t want to chance inaccuracy of any kind, so you thought of your next best option. On a whim, you squatted to look in the under-sink cabinet for Dixie cups. You could not for the life of you remember the last time you bought those, but maybe. . .

Aha! 

Shoved to the back of the cabinet, forgotten, was a dispenser you now remember as Elsie’s. Her dental routine, always having been extensive, now coming in extremely handy. Once you had your hands on it, you pulled one cup sticking out of the top. 

Last one. Damn. Lucky day.

Let’s just keep getting lucky, then.

So, you sat down to pee, after reviewing the instructions for the both brands of sticks once more. 

And, once you’d peed in the cup, washed your hands, and built up the final bit of courage to do it, you opened the boxes. As quickly as you could, you got all six out, unwrapped them, and then dipped each tab in the little cup. Once you felt they’d all been dipped the perfect amount, you laid them out on the counter and set the timer on your phone.

All six laid there, taunting you and your stupid, careless decision. The two digitals next to one another, blinked with the time until results appeared. The four other tests’ screens, all got colored, one-by-one by your pee. Gross.

Deciding you couldn’t watch, you went ahead and fed Stevie during the waiting period. You left your phone on the counter, too, the volume turned up all the way so you’d be able to hear the alarm.

Just before you threw the boxes away in the kitchen, you read the backs of them once more. One part stuck out to you, the piece of information you were reading, both reassuring you and terrifying you all at once. 

“This pregnancy test detects the “pregnancy hormone” (hCG), which starts showing up in your urine shortly after implantation. Plus, its DualSense(TM) Technology may help prevent false positives in the very small number of non-pregnant women who may have low levels of hCG in their urine.”

At least I know they’ll show me accurate results. Like the fact that I’m not pregnant, you recited, once more. 

You bent over to feed your fluffy gray cat, but when you did, you felt the usual wave of sickness flood your senses. But there was no stopping it like you were sometimes able to do. Thankfully, you were able to get her food in the dish and still make it back over to the toilet, in time to empty the contents of your stomach.

And, as if on cue, just as you flushed it down, the timer on your phone went off. 

You suddenly wanted Elsie there with you, holding your hand as you met your fate. But you quickly pushed that to the side, remembering that this was on you. This was your mistake to face. And your body. You had to be the one to make all of the choices that followed any possible, unwanted result. You had to face this alone. This was on you.

By The Seaside’s cheery tone did not match your sick tummy or the dread that was pooling at the bottom of it. It was as though bricks had been piled there, keeping you on the ground until the tone started getting so infuriating, you couldn’t take the sound any longer. You also didn’t want to wait so long to possibly get inaccurate results.

Your eyes were pinched shut as you stood up. Yes, to keep the dizziness subdued, but mostly out of fear for what awaited you on the countertop. When you opened your eyes, you directed your sight first to your phone, pressing the STOP button to turn off the seriously grating alarm tone. 

Before you even glimpsed the counter holding your (possible) future, you knew what you were going to see.

And you were proven terribly correct.

Four tests with two pink lines on each screen. Two digitals saying two words you didn’t want to think true. . .

YES (with a stupid little plus sign) on one and Pregnant, big, fat, and bold on the other.

Fitting. Big and fat. Just like I’m about to fucking be.

-🌼🌼🌼-

You laid in bed crying for hours. You didn’t even remember getting to your bed. But by some miracle you did. And you never wanted to leave it. This was the last thing you fucking wanted. Really. 

You avoided touching your stomach for a while, not wanting to make any association to the unspeakable reality of your situation.

A fucking baby wasn’t in the cards at all. It couldn’t be.

You could not have this baby. No way, no how. You and Jake weren’t ever going to work as a couple. For prior reasons and because you fucking stomped out any of that possibility with the hateful, untrue things you’d told him in August. 

Then, there was the career aspect. If you were afraid of Jake compromising his career for you, you knew he would most probably (most definitely) put his career on hold for his own fucking kid. And you refused to let that happen. It was not an option for a baby to get in the way of the lifelong dream he was finally living out. He was more important than that being halted for a barely-there kid.

You still had no earthly clue what the fuck you were going to do with your life, but even you refused to quit your life for a baby you didn’t want. Before you could schedule the appointment, though, you were sobbing yourself to sleep.

-🌼🌼🌼-

You woke to the telling sound of the front door opening and closing. 

Your eyes were difficult to open. But, as you pried your red and puffy lids open, you squinted at your phone screen to see a text from Els and the fact that it was 2:30 a.m. 

Dear god, where has he been?, you thought, irritated at being woken at an ungodly hour on this wretched night. All you wanted to do was sleep. 

But, you couldn’t stop yourself from contemplating where he’d been. . . you soon regretted the train of thought. Because, you knew exactly why he’d been out so late. It was the same reason he used to stay out late. Women. Now, it was Maya, most likely. 

You blew into yet another tissue from your bedside table. The disgusting pile of dirty kleenex from your delightful evening had come to cover the pretty white painted wood. 

Just like this horrid situation is going to take over my life if I don't stop it from happening.

Taking comfort in what you could control in the present, you decided to get off of your worthless ass to throw away the tissues in your bedroom’s trash basket. 

Shit.

The trash.

Without giving a thought what Jake’s reaction would be to your swollen red face, you made a beeline from your bedroom to the kitchen’s waste bin.

Gratefully, he was nowhere to be seen. And when you heard the shower turn on, you knew you were safe for a bit. So you hurriedly wrapped up the bag and ran it down the concrete stairs to the complex’s dumpster. On the way back up the stairs, you rushed, too, as you didn’t want to risk seeing Jake at all. You didn’t know how long he’d be in the shower, and considering it was late, you figured he’d be in and out.

Right before you were able to grace the last step on your way up the stairs, you nearly tripped.

And, just as you gasped, catching yourself from mid-fall, you also protectively grabbed another part of your body. 

Only on instinct, you defended the choice. 

But as you made the rest of the way to the apartment, you didn’t move the hand from the bottom of your belly.

You couldn’t defend that.

To your relief, when you made it back up, hesitantly opening the door, you realized Jake was still in the shower. As you put a new bag in, you had to let go of your tummy. And it was fine. You didn’t miss the contact. 

It was just instinct before.

But, just as you finished with your job, you were no longer alone. 

You watched him leave the bathroom, towel around his waist. The waist you’d hungrily gripped so many times before. . . But, in recent times’ fashion, he didn’t look your way for even a millisecond. You knew why. You knew you’d been an asshole and said terrible things you could never take back.

You said what you did for good reason, your inner, brutally honest voice reminded you for the 80th time in the past month. 

For as long as you could, you let your eyes follow his body, surely still warm from his shower. He was so completely handsome. His long, dark, wet hair, sticking to his tanned, broad shoulders, which shined with water droplets. Droplets that trickled to dip below the towel at his waist. . .just as you’d witnessed them do before. 

Before. Better times.

Though, as soon as he was in your line of sight, he was gone.

Minutes later, you were back in the safety of your bed, trying to not think about your roommate, wet and possibly naked next door as you searched Google for a Planned Parenthood near you.

And, as you were scheduling your appointment, you refused to acknowledge the soft thoughts that were entering your brain.

A baby. Not so bad. . .Soft. Cuddly. Sweet. Yours. . .

Jake’s.

But before you could hit the precipice of overthought, you reminded yourself that it was unreasonable and it would be selfish to keep the baby. It would be you halting Jake in one more way.

And, just as you were tiptoeing the edge of a deep slumber, an even more devastating thought entered your mind.

You could absolutely not have this child.

Because, based on your tumultuous past of mistreating other people, how would this poor, innocent baby be any different? Be safe from you? Even with the gut-wrenching thoughts, you fell into sleep easily. Crying always took it out of you. Now you could blame part of it on the life you were growing inside of you. 

Without thinking of it, your hand found your still-flat belly again as you drifted off. . .

But, when you did, your sleep was not that easy. Your dreams, ever-vivid. A mixture of wonderful, pastel-colored moments with a giggling baby, a glowy morning light tickling her pretty features. . . 

Then the terrible ones where you saw yourself as the exact person who’d hurt you most. . .Your mother.

-🌼🌼🌼-

October 29, 2022

Unbeknownst to you at the time you’d scheduled your Planned Parenthood appointment, you’d planned it for the same day as Josh’s annual Halloween bash.

The one he would be hosting at your house, just as he always had. And, he’d planned it when he always did. The Saturday before Halloween. You just hadn’t thought of it when you’d scheduled. 

So many people in your home, on the day of an appointment for which you’d had equal parts apprehensiveness and eagerness. . . maybe slightly more apprehensive. Either way, they were two completely different emotions. And you weren’t sure how in the hell you’d handle them once the deed was actually done. . . So the prospect of coming back to an apartment full of people to feel it all was not your favorite.

Good thing was, you’d at least been able to reschedule your appointment for earlier in the day, which would end up giving you plenty of time to cry and cope on the drive home, get back home, cope some more, and then dress up. . . And then you’d be fine. . . right?

You’d decided to put off the appointment for as long as you felt like you could. The night you’d found out had been a shitshow of emotions. But when you awoke the next day, there had been a new light that hadn’t appeared the night before when you’d read the tests. 

A light that left you feeling unsure of ending it so quickly. You just hadn’t felt totally comfortable going in so soon without giving it time. You’d wanted time to process it. So, you’d scheduled it far enough out to do so. 

Two weeks. You decided that giving yourself two weeks to really think it through, would help you have enough leeway to think and come to a sensible conclusion.

But. . . you still hadn’t come to one. Not really.

You’d at least had the two weeks on your own, the apartment being void of Jake. The boys’ record label had suggested going to a cabin in the middle of the woods to write music and spend that time together, just them. They’d left roughly midway through the first week after you’d found out. Much as you wanted to deny it, you had missed him. His presence. But him being gone had been what you needed to thoroughly digest it all. Theorize. Imagine all kinds of scenarios for you and the baby. 

But the days and the nights were different– a total contrast of each other. And you’d bounced back and forth between the strong, all encompassing feelings for long enough that you’d made your decision. Even though it wasn’t necessarily an easy decision, you knew it was what needed to happen.

Most nights, you fell asleep, holding your belly (a little excited by it growing just the slightest bit in the past two weeks). . . You’d come to the same conclusion anytime your head hit the pillow. The euphoric, pastel dreams. The precious baby you could hold and love, safe in your arms.

You knew what you wanted at those moments and it felt heavenly, honestly. . .

But the utter trainwreck of thoughts that plagued you in the daytime were what had you getting into your car, putting the clinic in your Maps app. Tumbling between your thoughts of not harming Jake and not becoming your mother and harming the child, you’d made the final decision of what was best for all parties involved. 

Especially the baby you held in your womb. 

Your hand went to its natural resting place, the bottom of your faintly protruding tummy, where you imagined your baby growing steadily. You hadn’t researched how big it was or even let yourself do the math of how far along you were. No tracker apps. No research. It would keep you disconnected enough to go through with the most beneficial option for everyone.

Avoiding all of the fun things had been difficult, as you’d spent every waking minute thinking about the life inside of you. The baby motivated you. Kept you going when you started feeling sad. . . Weird as it was, the tiny little bean in your belly was inspiring you on a daily basis. 

But, as you came to the first stoplight on your journey, you remembered this was best.

The appointment was at the Hempstead clinic. You’d made it at that location, forty minutes away from your home, in the hopes you wouldn’t see anyone you knew. No one knew about the life inside of you and you had decided it probably needed to stay that way.

It had become increasingly burdensome to keep it from your Elsie. There’d never been a time in your life where you didn’t tell her everything. Keeping the thing with Jake from her had already been hard enough, so adding a baby to the mix made it rise tenfold. Any time she Facetimed you, texted you, or called you, you wanted to tell her. A couple of times you almost slipped up. 

But telling her that would mean admitting everything about you and Jake. The sex. The feelings you’d developed. The way you’d cut things off. . .

And you didn’t want her advice. Weren’t ready for the way she’d react to it all. She always seemed to conflict with your ideas on things like this. . . the hard decisions you’d make. She was notorious for saying you “make things too hard for yourself” and to “let go of the heaviness”, but all you normally heard was “I don’t understand what you’re feeling, but I’m going to tell you this worthless piece of advice anyway.” You knew she’d judge how you ended things. She’d question it. Quiz you.

Now was not the time for any of that. You already had your constant, terribly rude voice of reason that coached you through the tough things. So, as much as it tempted you, you didn’t dare mention any of it to your sister: your time with Jake or what it had ended up producing in your uterus.

(There was also the crippling fear that she may slip up and tell Josh. . .and he was the last person you wanted to find out. . .The fear of disappointing him two times the amount as before.)

But, at this moment, as you joined the crazy busy traffic on the highway, soul music lifting your spirits as high as they could go, you wished she was there to talk it through with you. So for the thousandth time, you tried doing it yourself. The same thoughts you’d gone over and over for the past two weeks.

The first thing you thought of every time your mind started rambling was what it could and would honestly, truthfully be like. 

How could you actually make it work? 

Usually, this was where you’d lose hope, telling yourself you absolutely couldn’t make it work. . . start derailing from the possibility of happiness. . . but as that certain Aretha Franklin song came on your fucking shuffle. . . 

Like an eagle protects his nest, for you I'll do my best

Stand by you like a tree and dare anybody to try and move me

Darlin' in you I've found, strength where I was torn down

I don't know what's in store, but together we can open any door

The lyrics inspired your thoughts to take a surprising turn for a. . . promising, positive outlook.

There was most likely a way you could make sure to hold Jake to his dream. You could encourage him to stay on track. You’d been able to talk through things with him before. Even though things were weird now, you could do it again. . . probably. Hopefully. Do what you always did and make a list of reasons why he should, get him to understand the importance of him not giving up on it. . . 

Then the darkness filtered in a bit, reminding you of how hateful you’d been to him during your last conversation. Would he listen to you? Could you blame him if he didn’t want to? And the recycled thought of how toxic you were. . . You’d cared so deeply for him and still allowed yourself to talk that way to him to protect him. What in the hell would you say to your child to protect it in the future? Why was your idea of loving someone so fucked up? 

Could you fix that? Figure it out? 

At the very least, you could try. For your baby. For you.

You merged lanes, the track slipping into the next. You turned the volume down to hear your thoughts. Give them your attention.

How would you raise the baby? As roommates? Weird. Friends? Sad. You couldn’t cross the territory from before again. That would make things too complicated for the baby. . .And probably for you while you figured things out. Getting lost in him again wasn’t an option. The glorious fucking– it wasn’t an option. Did he even want that? Probably the fuck not. . . But you knew he’d make something work for the baby. . . He’d make sure the baby felt safe with an arrangement between the two of you. You knew the kind heart he held in his chest.

You could do it as friends and make it okay. You could. Even if it broke your heart to only be his friend as you raised a baby together. You would do it for your baby. For him. You would do it for him–because you'd cut things off with him for a reason. A solid reason. And a baby didn’t change that. 

In fact, a baby affirmed that it stayed the way you had made it. . . You’d made a mess and he didn’t need to be distracted by you. You could share the baby, yes, but you were the obvious primary caretaker. You’d take over whenever he was away or needed time to focus. . . It wouldn’t be fully on him to handle a baby. 

It would barely be on him. You were the mom. This was your thing.

But, it would be fully on him to handle your bullshit. You weren’t worthy of a relationship like he could offer. And he didn’t need to be on your healing journey with you while he pursued what made him feel happy and fulfilled. Just like the rules had stated: you weren’t his responsibility.

Responsibility. . .he didn’t need to have any with the baby, honestly. He didn’t need to be involved. Only if he wanted to be. You weren’t going to force him. 

But damn, you wanted him there for all of it. From birth up until the day of college graduation. . . 

The sound of your phone ringing through Hands Free interrupted your train of thought, right as you got on the exit you needed to take to get you closer to the clinic. You didn’t even look at the caller ID as you pressed the answer button, focusing on the tricky road you’d made it to instead. You knew it was probably Josh or Elsie, calling to figure out something about tonight.

“Hello?” you said, loud enough for the other person to hear, starting the conversation.

“Hey.”

The voice you heard through the sound system of your car was almost enough to make you veer off of the roads, actually making you swerve the slightest bit.

Jake. Why was he calling?

“H-hey,” you stuttered, not sure where to even begin in conversation with him. You hadn’t spoken for a damned month, and now you knew you were carrying his baby. . . things were strange. Altered. Poles apart from before. You covered your wavering response with as much truth as you could tell. “Sorry, driving on some weird roads. On my way to a doctor’s appointment right now.”

“It’s fine,” he responded, voice hard and clipped. Unfamiliar. He’s not your Jake. Your heart fell as you felt that newfound (or re-found?) tension fill the conversation. “Just calling to tell you I’m leaving my key with Josh so he can get in to decorate. Thought you’d wanna know.”

Your brow wrinkled, suddenly curious and a little irritated. “Josh has a key. . .?” You took another exit that indicated how many miles you had left until your destination. 

“I lost the little fuckin’ thing,” Josh’s voice now reverbrated, grainy through your speakers. You smiled at the sound of him, but turned down the volume to make it less overpowering, in case he talked again. “I’m so sorry, love!”

“It’s fine, Joshy,” you conceded with a sigh. “Hope I don’t get a burglar or some shit thanks to you,” you were joking, but also completely serious. “You’re replacing the entire apartment if that happens.”

“You’ve got it, Mama,” he responded dutifully. 

But the only thing you could hear was mama. . .Mama, mama. . .fuck.

Your hands started sweating as you noticed your Map had you down to three minutes until you made it. Rather than making it obvious that you were lost in thought, you started talking. Using it as a way to distract yourself as well. (More so for yourself, if you were being honest.)

“I thought Elsie was coming to help you? She has one.”

“Her plane got delayed and she’s going to be getting here later than she planned,” Jake replied to you, short in his response. “See you la–.”

“Is she okay?” You asked, your heart rate increasing at the thought of her possibly being stuck somewhere. “Is she safe? I’ve been driving. Do you think she’s tried texting me? Josh, is she okay?”

You heard Josh chuckle, which eased your nerves. “Yes, she’s perfectly fine,” he confirmed gently. “She’s on the flight now, and if things line up, she should be here in two hours, so we’re good.”

“Okay, goo–.”

“And I’m sure she’s texted you because you both text each other non-fuckin’-stop,” he pointed out. Then you heard him laugh at himself. “No–I love it. But she’s okay.”

Jake’s voice, annoyed, broke through the flow of your conversation with his brother. “Alright, well, see you la–.”

Just as you pulled up to the clinic, you cut him off. “Jake.” Truthfully, the reason you kept him on the line was because your heart was heavily thrumming in your ears, vision tunneling. . . You just needed to hear his voice. He couldn’t hang up yet. “Why won’t you be there to let him in?”

He sighed, the sound making your heart slow down a little. You could imagine him rubbing his face or giving you a look that said “really?”. But he actually responded kindly, sounding like himself. “I have a few things to do before the party. I won’t be home.”

Even though you so badly wanted to ask what those things were, just to continue hearing his voice, you didn’t keep him. It wasn’t your place to know and you knew better than to ask anymore questions that weren’t your business. 

“Okay.” You paused, thinking if it was okay to ask what you wanted to next. Just go for it. “Are you going to be at the party?”

Embarrassing to ask, but here you were. 

“Yes. . .?” He replied, tone questioning. 

Relief. That was what you were feeling. You were relieved that he’d be there. 

He waited a few beats and then spoke again. “. . .Why?”

“No reason. Just wondering if you’d be at the party,” you rushed out, not wanting to push him further.

The next thing you heard throughout the body of your car was Josh’s voice again. He was hurling expletive after expletive. And then, “Did you see that, Jake? Did you see that?” in the background of the call.

It was enough to make you laugh. You’d been there for his loss of patience on the road. Completely oblivious drivers getting an earload from the man in the next car over. It was even funnier when you’d look over to see them grinning, or singing along to a song. . .no idea that they were getting called horrendous names.

Simply watching him lose his cool on others was entertaining because it was hardly ever seen. The best thing you could think to compare him to was an angry leprechaun when he’d start on his little road rage fits. 

And without warning, the sound you needed to hear most rushed through the car and into your ears. Jake’s lovely, raspy chuckle. It’d been so long since you’d heard it. Too long. (You might’ve turned up your volume a smidge in hopes of hearing it again.)

The insane person in you wanted to ask him to do it again. But, obviously, you didn’t.

Though, he didn’t immediately try to hang up when he spoke next. When you heard him again, it was almost like you could imagine the past month hadn’t happened. The talk in the kitchen hadn’t happened. . . things were normal. You were okay. He was okay. Both of you, peaceful . . .blissful.

“Are you good?” He asked smoothly– familiarly. Jake. And, you were sure your ears were fooling you, but you swore you could hear a hint of concern in his tone. 

You weren’t sure what to say. This was more than you expected from him by far. . . Shocked was an understatement. What you wanted was to open up, tell him every last thing on your mind, but you knew you couldn’t do that anymore. 

You plainly weren’t. You put a hand on your tummy and aimed to match his sincerity in your tone. Settling with a, “Yeah, I’m good,” as your reply.

I miss you, though, you added, silently.

“Alright,” he said. But he didn’t hang up. Instead, the line stayed connected almost as though he was. . .waiting? Was he? Possibly waiting for you to talk more? Like he used to? Giving you time? But before you could think any further, he was wrapping it up. “See you later.” 

The tone clicked off, leaving you in the silence of your car briefly before your eardrums got attacked by Marvin Gaye’s voice. 

“Shit.”

You reached the knob, turning down the volume. 

Had I really turned it up that loud? 

You shook your head as you giggled to yourself at the fact that you’d been so obscenely desperate to hear him laugh.

But, his laugh. . . Exactly what you needed to keep calming down. . . That laugh. . . And the way his eyes would light up with it.

Oh, fuck. . .

His eyes.

His wonderful eyes. Amber-brown. The first thing you’d noticed about him. They were so kind and so open when he cared for someone he spoke to. . . Even sparkling sometimes when he’d smile. . .

And without warning, you could see it. Clear as day. A baby with Jake’s kind eyes. 

A baby that was part of him. . . 

You let yourself sit on that. Think about it. Just that. Not about all of the intricate, fine-tuned details. No, just thought about the simple fact that this baby was half Jake.

Half of someone who’d brought so much unadulterated joy to your life. If you were always honest with yourself, you knew he wasn’t what had caused you to become distracted, sad, and in your head. . . you’d done that to yourself. All he had done was be a listening ear. A helper. A lover. A friend. . .

He’d done nothing wrong. You knew this. And imagining a baby who could bring the same light to the world as him. . .Even if all the baby had were his eyes, that would be enough. But then there was his heart. The beautiful heart and passion his child would no doubt have. It would be inevitable. Especially being the child of you two. . . but his passion shining through a kid? 

You could not get it out of your head. You didn’t want to. It was all so beautiful to imagine. . .You also didn’t want to rid the world of a gift that could be so wonderful as Jake Kiszka.

The little details could be worked out. You would work on yourself. You would try your best to be the best you could be. . .

You would. Had to do it for yourself and your baby.

Determined, you turned off your car. And when you went inside Planned Parenthood, you canceled your appointment. You tried your best to shut off your brain to any of its usual worrying for the sake of the life you now knew without a doubt you wanted to keep. Hold. Love.

And as you were driving home, the nerves were gone and replaced with relief. Your baby would be okay. You’d make damn sure of it.

When you took the final exit off the highway to reach the city streets that led to your apartment, you got logical again. Now, the logic didn’t worry you. It didn’t make you feel unsure. This logic felt safe. You were working things out– not just getting rid of something to temporarily patch up a hole. Yes, you were more than self-aware. You knew you did that shit.

It was what you’d done your whole life to feel safe. But it wasn’t what the baby did. It wasn’t what the baby needed. And now, the baby in your belly would also get what it needed. 

As you rolled into your parking spot, you started searching the best apps to use and downloaded all of the most reliable trackers. The loading apps made you feel jittery with anxiety, but in a good way you’d never felt before.

Later on in your pregnancy, you knew it was possible you could end up regretting the choice to keep the kid. You’d done nothing to prepare for a child and the fear of being completely out of control was daunting. But that was what adoption was for. 

You just couldn’t be the reason that the world lost such a precious piece of Jake. Because, even if you couldn’t keep the baby yourself, you needed to at least see such an inevitably beautiful person enter this world. And, you didn’t have to be out of control in all of this. You could keep your hands on it all. Stay aware and informed. . . Help the baby. . . Feel purpose. You could do something good and worthwhile.

You walked up the stairs to your building, watching your every step while you kept one firm hand on your lower tummy. The apps that had loaded were dying to be opened. But you were going to shower and start getting ready before you gave yourself that reward.

For the first time in your life, you had a shaky-ass, unsure plan. But it was oddly the first time in your life you felt like you could conquer your shit. You could take it by the horns and start working on it. For you. For your baby. The baby that motivated and inspired you so much already. . .It all felt so freeing.

You unlocked your front door, finding the place was still empty. Your shoulders relaxed as the day started draining from you. The past two weeks, honestly. . . You moved your shoulders a little to loosen the muscles from their pent-up tension, took deep breaths in and out, in and out. . .

You breathed a sigh of contentment, placing your delicate hand on where the baby grew. 

And as you got into the shower, you realized something. . .

The persistent voice that always accompanied you, helping you feel less alone in your hurt. . . had been silenced. Was that okay? That it wasn’t there to guide you? Had you been able to turn it off? 

You weren’t sure how to feel about it. But, as you kept glancing down at your slightly rounded tummy as you showered, you came to a clarifying thought.

You weren’t alone anymore. Didn’t have to be. Maybe the voice was no longer needed. Maybe this was the beginning of a massive change.

Giggling to yourself as you dried off, you thought to yourself.

Duh, it’s a massive change. The biggest. And one I’m ready to welcome.

-🌼🌼🌼-

When Elsie’s plane landed at the airport, Josh had already been at your place decorating for an hour or two. And as soon as she texted, he was gathering his things and giving you instructions on finishing up the place. 

Then, he left to pick her up. 

Finally.

You breathed a sigh of relief when he ended up leaving. 

The thoughts that’d swarmed your head in such close proximity to him had been too much. It was weird being around him now, knowing who you were carrying. Josh being completely oblivious (and probably unapproving if he were to find out) caused you some incredible anxiety. While you’d come to the realization that there was no doubt you wanted to have the baby, the thought of people finding out was making your nerves short circuit. 

Especially Josh. He was still the main person you didn’t want knowing of you and Jake. Same as always, you didn’t want him to feel betrayed, or like you’d let yourself be to Jake what Amelia had been to him (destroying his dreams for your gain). And now, you knew how much worse it could end up being when he found out about your child. You figured that he would feel like he’d been left totally in the dark. Which, he had been. . .but for good reason.

You just felt guilty over it.

Taking instructions from him on how to finish up some of the decorations, you hung the rest of  the red and black streamers and some cute, eclectic garland between the streamers. Little fabric ghosts, attached to a string that he’d probably found at a Home Goods store. After that, per his wish, you shut all of the lights off and turned all of the twinkle lights on. Some red, some white. . . But so many of them. Dear God. 

The lights were a good idea though, as they added the final touch to everything he’d done around the place. . .highlighting everything a very mystifying, spooky hue.

Once you completed those tasks, you made the red punch. Josh had already whipped up the orange punch and had it chilling in the fridge. When it looked ‘blood red’ enough (Josh’s words), you placed it in the fridge with the other bowl. Each bowl, shaped like a giant skeleton hand. 

Does he just host it here because I have a massive fridge? You genuinely wondered. 

On the shelf above the bowls, you saw the several hilariously made food items. He’d designed them carefully and specially to look like scary things, labeling each as its inspiration (Witch’s Fingers being the name of one item). It was something you’d see at a party for a child, but you weren’t surprised that Josh had found the idea amusing. Something you loved about Josh was the fact that he was a child at heart, while also showing the traits of an 80 year old man.

Crossing the living room to walk to your room, you admired the way he’d jazzed up the spacious apartment. It looked spooky and cute and fun. You knew people would love it. He always went all out and you enjoyed seeing what he decided to do each year. 

What worried you, though, was the amount of orange solo cups that sat on your bar. It looked to be at least (probably more than) 50 cups. Maybe he’d just gotten that many for the people who wouldn’t reuse their cups. . .but the Sharpie sitting next to them begged to differ.

Why in the fuck hadn’t you put a limit on the number of people? Yeah, your apartment was roomier than some, but how were you going to fit that many goddamned people in your place?

There’d never been so many solo cups waiting. . . How many people were there going to be? And why the sudden change in numbers?

-🌼🌼🌼-

It was thirty minutes to party time when they got back. 

You’d finished most of your makeup, having done it during the long time you’d waited on your sister’s arrival. When Elsie finally walked into your room, her foundation, blush, and contour were on, but nothing else. 

“Bitch, we’ve gotta hurry,” she said, setting her bags down on your bed. “Do you have the costumes?”

You gave your false lashes one more swipe of mascara, pleased with how you looked. 

Not half bad, you thought. You made a pout at yourself in the mirror; your red lipstick made your lips look damn good. The gloss you'd coated them with helped as well. 

Kissable.

“Yes,” you answered, rising from the vanity to grab their hangers out of your closet. “We are never buying costumes on Etsy again, though. These ripped a hole in my bank account.”

“Oh, shut up, Little Miss ‘my grandparents pay for my rent’,” she sassed back, rolling her eyes.

“You’re one to talk,” you countered, annoyed with her. “They did the same damn thing for you.”

“You’re not wrong,” she agreed, a laugh in her voice. “But giving you shit is too fun. And also, you don’t have to travel all over the globe for your job, so. . . I bet your account still looks prettier than mine, even after this purchase.” She grabbed her little blue top and skirt from your waiting hand. “These are perfect though,” she turned the costume around, admiring. “Thanks, sissy.”

“Did you bring the white stockings?” You asked, taking off your sweats and changing from granny panties to a white, lacy thong to fit the mood. 

“Duh,” she responded, going to retrieve them from her duffel, throwing your pair at you. They hit you on the head, as you were folding your sweats onto your bed.

“Elsie!” You yelped. “You little fuck.”

“Get over it. I’m sure you’ve done something to me recently to deserve it.”

When you looked back at her, to continue the jesting, she was in her light ensemble. She moved in front of the mirror, gawking. She twisted and turned to see every angle of the glorified lingerie. “Damn these are sexy,” she commented, impressed with the look.

Your eyes were big, noticing the same thing as her. They were hot, but. . . A lot of skin was going to be exposed. . .

“Short as hell,” you noted, observing the costume on your sister’s body. . . Her ass would be fully out if she bent the wrong way. But her boobs looked great– complimented by the cropped blouse, pushed up. She adjusted the little pink bow in her hair that’d come with the ‘fit. “And lots of skin.”

“Just like we wanted them,” she reminded you, going to get her makeup bag to finish her makeup at the vanity. 

Yeah, we decided on these damned costumes when I was fucking Jake and had someone to look sexy for. . .  Fuck. The thought of him seeing you tonight and not being able to react like he would have two months ago. . .it made your heart pinch sadly. It suddenly felt totally counterproductive to even dress cute. 

Why would you want to do it now? The only person you wanted to impress would definitely not be looking your way. . . You had a terrible feeling that all night, you were going to feel like a clown. Ridiculous. Dressed up in a stupid, extremely revealing costume. Completely unseen by one pair of pretty brown eyes. . .

“Put your costume on!” Elsie ordered, her eyes pinned on you through the mirror as you stood there, behind her, lost in thought. “The party starts super fucking soon.” 

You had to do this with her. If you backed out on your costume with Els, it would be a giant dick move. Coordinating costumes with her on Halloween had been a tradition for as long as you could remember. 

It will be fun to do it with her. Just like always.

Resigning to putting on the tiny outfit, you went to take off your sweatshirt. But just as you gripped material at your hip to pull it up and off, you froze again.

Dammit. The tiny bump. 

You hadn’t thought of her possibly seeing you—or it— as you changed. . . Should have done it before she got there. Would she even notice? Honestly, it just looked like you were bloated. It wasn’t super obvious what it was— not yet.

It’s okay. It’s fine. It’ll be okay.

So, you kept on with taking it off, throwing it to your bed to fold, turning around so you weren’t facing her in the process of getting changed. Just a safety precaution.

“Nice ass,” she giggled, snarky as usual before continuing her eyeliner.

But your mind went into hyperdrive. A recent event, coming to your mind at her words.

“That ass,” he’d said, his voice still low and sleepy. “Damn, baby.” 

The way he’d looked. . . Stroking himself in bed as he’d watched you. . .

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. 

Naturally, you went to hold your tummy. Though, you dropped the hand when you heard your sister huff frustratedly. “Do I have to come over there and do it for you?” 

You looked over your shoulder at her, narrowing your eyes and giving her the middle finger before finally putting on every piece of the ensemble. 

You had to be careful with the top, which included its built-in push up bra. Your breasts had become much more sensitive than you were used to. Sometimes hurting to the touch. To your relief, the bra added just the right amount of pressure to them that it felt like they were being held well. . . 

Just wouldn’t be able to put up with the feeling all night. . . You knew that they’d start to hurt from being pressed so tightly to something as the night wore on. After situating your boobs just so, you put on the last piece: A black platform heels, closed-toe, resembling a pair of traditional Mary Janes.

Smoothing your hands over the skirt, you noticed it was a little tight. . . But not bad. Not noticeable to any unsuspecting eye. Just like your previous thought, it could really just be passed off as period bloating. However, when you eventually checked over the outfit on yourself, in the mirror. . . You did notice something. A change.

The past couple of weeks had been a time of you not acknowledging any body changes. Only your belly, which you frequently, absentmindedly touched. . . But anything else that might feel or look abnormal? You’d avoided, if you could. 

The boob pain had been too incessantly uncomfortable to ignore, having to flip and flop every which way in the night time so they wouldn’t feel like aching, ton-pound weights on your chest.

But you hadn’t looked at them. They truly looked bigger. You weren’t that far along. . . Were you? You didn’t understand all of the pregnancy math yet. You still hadn’t had the chance to delve into your new apps. 

Whatever the case may be, they were definitely growing. Your veins in them, darker than normal. The way they looked swollen, full. . . damn. 

Do they seriously start changing this soon? I don’t know. . ., you wondered silently, moving to the side to see how they were giving you fantastic cleavage at your deep, sweetheart neckline. Mentally, you made a note to check those apps to get some answers as soon as possible.

You went about your business, trying to distract yourself from the body changes you weren’t completely sure about . . .

As you were adjusting your own pink bow in your hair, you heard her wolf whistle. 

“Dear God, sis,” Elsie commented. You looked down at her in the mirror, where she still sat at the vanity stool. Her face was almost completely finished. “What in the hell have you done to make your boobs look so fantastic? Please, tell me your ways.”

If only you fucking knew, you thought, fluffing your hair, and adjusting your outfit as much as you could, once more before eyeing her. 

“Just on my period,” you lied, not ready to tell her. But . . .you kind of were. You wanted to tell someone and she was your person. When would you be able to finally break the news?

You pushed the thought away as she did the same as you with her outfit and put her own shoes on. 

Hearing the sounds of people arriving, and Josh’s music starting, you gave her a look. 

“You ready?” 

-🌼🌼🌼-

The party had been droning on for several minutes. 

A lot of people had shown up. . . some you recognized from past parties, and others you’d never seen before. All you knew was there were definitely enough people for all of the cups.

You’d already taken your annual Halloween picture with Elsie, and now she was off with Josh, attached to his side and conversing with every person that he did.

Why couldn’t you have what they had? Why was everything in your life so goddamned complicated?

And where was Jake?

Your other two friends had arrived (surprisingly) on time, getting the party kicked off. They were now playing a small game of “mini beer pong” with two girls they’d probably met through an app. Maybe a festival, though? That was a possibility now. Weird.

Yawning, you made your way over to the punch and put some of the orange in a plastic cup. Before you took a sip, you smelled it, making sure it was uncontaminated with Josh’s liquor of choice. Knowing you were safe, you took a decently sized swig. And, thankfully, the taste didn’t make you want to hurl. 

All of the little things that had been happening before you’d found out were all stark and apparent in their nature now. All of your “stress” symptoms had been signs of you growing a little life inside of you. From being sick, wanting to eat everything in sight, the sore boobs for the couple of weeks before you’d found out. . . and even the extreme sadness about Jake. Had that perhaps been the hormones, too?

Getting up on your tiptoes to peer over the people, punch bowls, and several types of alcohol on the counter, you once again searched for your roommate.

Where was he?

And, right as you’d pondered the question again, there he was. Opening and striding through the front door, already in his costume. . .and looking sexy as fucking hell. 

Your eyes trailed his solid figure. . . From his black boots, black pants, loose white shirt (almost entirely unbuttoned, dear fuck), a few necklaces laying upon his defined chest. . .and all the way up to the dark red bandana that he’d tied around the top of his head, gold hooped earrings peeking out from his dark hair, flowing below the bandana.

A pirate.

Hot damn. 

And even though it was dark, the insurmountable amount of twinkle lights Josh had perfectly hung illuminated his handsome face enough for you to see. . .

Had he started growing a mustache on their trip?

Fuck. Me. 

You squirmed from where you were behind the counter, totally irritated with yourself over what you’d done in this very kitchen, two months ago. Even though it had been for his own good, you wished right now that you could take back time and hold off on doing it when you had. Because all you wanted to do in that moment was walk over to him and tell him all of the filthy thoughts that were clouding up your brain. 

But. . . before they could get any dirtier, you saw the person he’d arrived with, walking in beautiful and majestic behind him.

Maya.

Also dressed as a pirate. Except her costume was one you’d probably see advertised as “Sexy Female Pirate” in a Spirit Halloween bag where Jake’s seemed to be a bunch of pieces of his own clothing that he’d pieced together to make the stunning look.

Thankfully from the waist down, you were out of sight behind the bar counter. So you were able to lay a gentle hand on your belly, a little more round after eating some of Josh’s finger foods. You realized that, apparently, holding your belly was a new go-to to gain peace in a situation. 

Because, sad as you were over the woman he’d arrived with, you were able to ground yourself with the hand on your stomach. 

This was going to happen anyway. . . Surely. You two weren’t meant for each other, and you were bound to see him with another woman again after you ended things with him. And you were not shocked at all that it was Maya with him tonight. Just as Elsie and Josh had been doing, they started strolling the room, talking to the other party-goers. His smile, so bright to lighten up that dark room. . . The occasional laugh he’d give in response to someone that you wished so badly to hear, but just watch instead . . . 

You could do this. You could watch him from where you were. Even if she was with him every step of the way, you could admire him. Wistfully. Wantingly. Longingly. . .

But what you saw next was the worst thing you’d seen between them so far.

At first, it wasn’t so bad. When he wrapped an arm behind her. . . But what made your heart lull was seeing him give her ass a squeeze through the material of her (cheap nylon, off-the-costume-rack) pirate dress.

God, no. Unshed tears pricked your eyes. Your chest felt heavy.

Before you could watch any longer, you made your way over to the cabinet next to the oven. You’d hid your phone so as not to get it mixed up with any others. You’d assumed it was a risk when the multiple people filed in at the beginning of the party.

You averted your gaze from anywhere near where you’d last seen Jake. Then, found a place on the countertop to perch yourself, getting comfortable (and carefully situating your legs to not reveal anything). 

Now was the perfect time to start perusing those apps. . .

-🌼🌼🌼-

Elsie had migrated to be next to you for the latter portion of the evening, both of you feeling the hyperactivity of the crowd grating on your anxious nerves. 

You’d sat, secluded for hours. Talked about nothing and everything. Shared TikToks. Laughed at ridiculous things that no one else would get. . .But time with her made you that much more ready to tell her of your predicament. Even if her advice pissed you off, you still felt like you needed it. If only to round out the massive, intricate equation your life had become. You could use her input as a multiple fucking choice answer choice.

When it had gotten long enough that she hadn’t seen Josh, she had to get her fix and he walked off to find him. 

And you decided you were done sitting on the couch, crammed against the wall. You just wanted to go to sleep. You’d kept your phone on hand when you’d come to sit with her, and the time on your screen was reinforcing your want for your comfy bed. You’d been yawning for the past couple of hours off and on, and finally reached the point of your eyes closing where you sat at the back of the party. 

For the past couple of weeks, you’d been going to sleep much, much earlier than 11 p.m.

After you’d spent a lot of time reading about the first trimester on those (extremely helpful) apps, you now knew the newfound tiredness was most likely due to a baby growing healthily inside of you, using your energy to thrive. Providing life for yourself and another was exhausting work.

You couldn’t find Elsie and Josh in the mass of people, so you just decided to excuse yourself quietly to bed. Sammy and Danny, the only ones to get a goodbye and goodnight from you as you quickly passed by them. You were not about to look for Jake.

Stevie meowed when you entered your room, as if greeting you. She’d stayed in your bedroom with her necessities so she wouldn’t get overly anxious with the crowds, since that was the last thing you wanted for her. You’d greeted her back as you shut the door behind you, almost falling asleep against the back of the door. 

But your costume had become way too uncomfortable and constricting for that to be an option. 

You started stripping yourself of it, sighing as your chest hit the cool air of your room. Then, you slipped back into your heavenly sweats. No bra of any kind constricting your chest. Praises fucking be. You felt soft and cozy in your baggy sweats and you could fall asleep right there. Standing up. In the middle of your room. 

Though, your face was still heavy with makeup, and you weren’t going to sleep with that on your skin to possibly clog your pores. Another thing you’d learnt from your apps was that pregnant women easily broke out with hormonal acne, and you weren’t about to test any of the waters to give yourself more acne. You were already lacking enough self confidence, and you didn’t need to add a broken out face to the mix. 

When you went to grab your makeup wipes from your vanity (no time for the whole face routine tonight– you were too tired), you noticed the package was empty. And right next to all of her makeup, still splayed out, was the used cloth.

Of course Elsie had used the last one. She owed you for that one. Especially for the timing. Right now was not the time. You were going to have to go back out into the crowd to get to the bathroom for your new package. Thus, getting overstimulated all over again when all you wanted was to crash hard in your bed.

But when you got to your bathroom, your search for makeup wipes came up dry. And then you remembered that your last trip to the store had been weeks ago. The same day where you left with two packages of tests triple bagged. And that day, by the time you got to the toiletries section, your brain had been infiltrated by the memory that got you where you were now. You hadn’t remembered to get a new pack of remover wipes.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, angry that you now had to use Micellar water and dirty a washcloth and . . .ugh.

By the time you’d spent forever doing that, you figured you might as well do your full nighttime routine on your face.

Twenty minutes later, you were leaving the bathroom, face feeling incredibly fresh. But the way the final step cooled your face, made you feel more awake than before. So, after tossing your hair into a messy bun, you slipped past the people who were still taking up space in your home, avoiding any and all eye contact, to get a cup of water, a Cosmic Brownie, and a bowl of pickles. 

Just as you thought you’d figured out a way to carry it all to your room, you ended up dropping the box of brownies, each package falling out of the box, all over the floor (one didn’t sound like enough once you’d made it to the kitchen). The clatter of plastic made you want to cry, honestly. And a few tears hit your hand as you sat the pickles and water on the counter. 

I just want to eat and go to sleep, you thought, getting on your hands and knees to pick up the brownies.

But before you could, a hand was stopping you, bending down to do it himself. Confused, you stood back up, not questioning the help in your state. And when you looked to see who the helper was, you bit your lip to try and keep the new tears at bay. Stupid hormones. 

Your heart leapt at Jake. Pirate costume and all, on the floor, putting the last couple of packages back in the box. 

When he stood up, his eyes were glassy like he’d been drinking. You gave them one glance and then looked at the box, not letting your eyes meet his.

He’d probably forget about this, you thought, a little sad by that. He probably doesn’t even want to be doing this right now and his drunkenness is making him move without thinking.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, going to grab the box from him. But he pulled it back so you couldn’t. You tried again, but he pressed it to his chest, out of your reach. “Give me the box?” You requested, in question. Your brow wrinkled, unsure why he was doing this. 

“Look at me,” he said, his voice wavy, softly demanding. 

. . .and slightly British? You would have laughed if circumstances were different.

Yeah, his voice definitely indicated he wasn’t sober. 

But, you did as he asked, your craving made you follow his instructions without hesitation.

Mistake, mistake, mistake. Abort mission.

You hadn’t been given the opportunity to look into his eyes for so long. And doing it now made your airways constrict. The eyes that convinced you to turn around today. The same beautiful brown eyes you wanted your baby to have.

Wanting to ignore the way your heartbeat was literally washing through your ears, you tried to speak.

“Why?” You asked, your question weak, but voice clear of emotion. Thank God. 

His gaze was open, eyes a little lost thanks to his inebriation. “You looked fucking beautiful tonight,” he lazed, tone serious. He glanced down at your body, just briefly. “Still do. Always do.”

Your breath went shallow at his words. He didn’t mean this. He was drunk. You could’ve sworn he hadn’t been looking at you. He wouldn’t; Maya had been with him all night. Right?

“Thanks,” you choked out. You averted your gaze from his again, your heart couldn’t take this. “Can I have my brownies now?”

You saw them move in your direction, and grasped the box as soon as it was in front of you. Gathering up the water, bowl, and box with much more ease this time. Strategy.

“D’you want my help?” he offered, voice still iffy, but tone sweet and sincere. 

Shaking your head, you flashed your eyes at him once more. Just one more look.

“No, I can make it,” you affirmed, wanting to say the opposite. Yes, please. Stay with me. “But thank you.”

He mimicked your actions, shook his head as he furrowed his brow. “Yeah, yeah,” his eyes held yours. You couldn’t look away. He smiled shakily, as if telling a joke. “I’m drunk.”

You giggled in spite of it all. “I know.”

And then he was letting you move past him, his cologne coming off of him in the most delicious waves. . . fuck.

Before you could totally get away, though, he lightly grabbed your arm. You were stuck in a trance. His touch, burning, even through your sweatshirt. The way he smelled, exactly what your senses needed. 

You peered up at him through your lashes, wondering. “What?”

He seemed to get lost in your stare for a second, forgetting what he wanted to say. Alcohol could do that to a person.

But then he was moving towards you. Your heart fluttered wildly in your chest. What was he. . .? You couldn’t move. Then, he was dipping his lips to be right above your ear. Holy fuck. More. His voice was low and raspy when he whispered. “Your tits looked fucking incredible tonight.” Heat flushed in your cheeks, all the way down to the pit of your stomach and to your throbbing heat. God. “That fuckin’ tiny excuse for a shirt barely held them in.”

God-fucking-damn.

You could feel your nipples hardening, to match the rest of your body. You could feel them tight and hard, begging for his touch. But he couldn’t. And he wouldn’t. He didn’t want that. 

He. Was. Drunk.

Gaining what bearings you could, still blushing, you gave him a small grin, eyes innocent and at his mercy. “Thanks, Jake.”

And then you were booking it out of that kitchen. Quickly as you could, to the safety of your room and the vibrator you kept in your nightstand.

In an embarrassing amount of time, you were reaching the peak you so desperately needed. . . Every quiver from the tiny instrument, his wet tongue. Your toes curled as you found release, moaning his name loudly, but against your pillow to muffle the sound. 

Then you tucked it back in your nightstand, the food forgotten as you let yourself fall into a deep sleep, holding the soft bump of your belly.

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: i think "You're All I Need To Get By" is their song..... hm? do you think this baby might be the magic key? or do you think things are only going to get worse? 🤔🤔

also, who can guess what the girls were for Halloween? 🪓

ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts!

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[birdies-aus]

Okie dokie sending it here because idk why I'm nervous I just is lol but okay okay

Hot nights and Wally a walking furnace and Kori and alien I headcanon also overheats hence her outfits showing a bit more skin, and in the middle poor Dick is suffering but will not leave Bec he literally can't Wally is a octopus of a cuddler in his sleep he's trapped lol

Catboy Dickie Bec like, it so cute and Kori being a cat girl both just ugh!! So the braiding each other hair and adding bells and bows and Wally feeling left out being so sad so they do it to him.

Yuri times, cute little picnic dates??? In cute dresses??? And they're having fun??? Pog

Butch Kori and femme fem Dick, idk what to do more than I like it, and vise versa too if you enjoy differents

Only au of mine I'll add is Mei Dick and Kori are besties in it and still talk after Dick sold his soul to Lucifer, they still have frequent hangouts in a field of flowers even tho it doesn't exist anymore on earth, that's not a prompt tho just thought I tell ya because I'm rambling ahhhhhh

Protect the bird ^

And one angst prompt that been a fic in the making,,, Wally coming back from the mind trip of the speed force having to tell himself he's still here, and when the panic attack is coming on he called Dick to talk but.... He's off planet and he's about to lose it needing to talk to someone to tell him he's not on the speed force this ain't a trick.

And last idea, this is an au of mine but works with vampire king or reg vampire, Dick refusing to drink blood because he doesn't want to hurt his love ones but his two favorite gingers are trying to make him drink something because he needs to feed!!!

Okie dokie I go idk why I was nervous idk brain is being weird but uh yeah

Have a cookie 🍪 for putting up with this lol

out of all of these ideas my hands have given u butch4femme yuri dickkori doodle sluggy.. i used my friends ipad 4 this and on a sidenote i rlly hate using procreate lol

ANYWYAS ON TO THE ITHER THINGS YOUVE DROPPED FOR ME (i might doodle things 4 u more later just god my hands have not been working recently lol)

ill do a read more so i dont annoy anyone with long posts

i lobe the idea of both wally and kori running warm which is really nice for dick who gets cold easily- unless its in the summer somewhere where it gets like 100° but he still would never give up being able to cuddle his favorite people no matter how warm it gets trust trust meeee

Wally just pouts at catboy n catgirl dick n kori n then hes pulled into thwir little self care pile and he gets a little make over two- WHICH THE AFTER MATH WILL DEFINITELY BE SOMETHING I DRAW ACTUALLYYYYTT that sounds so cuute itll be its own post ill tag u in tho

okok but like my yuri cowgirl au but kori kidnaps her girls sometimes to take them out on a picnic date outside of town n sometimes it turns into a little-

williows never to be trusted with horse riding/steering bc she trues to go as fast as possible (without hurtting or straining the horse ofc) btw

Its a very common sight to see kori or willow dragging robin somewhere after catching her in rope btw its do silly in my head- its how they make sure shes taking care of herself and not getting caught up in mystery shenanigans

Aahhh kori n dick in ur mei au making flowercrowns togetherr hehe

kori n wally being over protective over their favorite birdd ♡♡♡♡

CRYINNGGF AT U FOR THE ANGST yk dick would panic when he gets home and hears a worrying voicemail from wallyyyyy sluggy pleaseee

ALSOOOO thats my favorite trooe in vampires but BUT ALAOSOOOO if wallys still a speedster hes like the best canidate for dick to drink blood from bc the guy would be able to replenish his blood quicker than a normal human meaning dick would be ablw to actually be full sometimes which would be very niceeeee-

[straykits]

[ waltz for two / bang chan ]

ie. three times chan really wanted to tell you he loves you and the one time he does. (reverting to this style of fic bc i actually really like it lol) a/n: title has one (1) maybe two (2) things to do with the actual fic. three if you squint. point is, it's not important. chose it bc it was the second first thing to come to mind // in the wise words of ao3, please see the end of the work for more notes. w/c: 2.3k tags: friends to lovers (maybe??? idk u choose ur own interpretation ig), lots fluff, small angst and comfort c/w: mild (?) descriptions/implications of dissociation and negative thoughts; mentions of alcohol oki enjoy the piece my dudes <3

one;

your name rings out into the still of chan’s apartment, the question mark hovering in the hall where he stood. he wouldn’t have even known you were here, if not for your shoes by the door.

the apartment is cold, the evening air having found a home in the empty space. there's no sign of you on the couch, or in the kitchen. the balcony is empty too - a favourite place for the both of you during the sunset hours when the city is painted in hues of red and gold. it was well past sunset now, the city instead bathed in evening’s blues.

if you weren’t in these places, then that leaves one more - because there was no way you were in the laundry or in the bathroom, right?

chan makes his way to his bedroom, feet padding across the floor with only the soft shuffle of socks against the laminated surface indicating his presence. he drops his backpack on the dining table as he passes by it, being careful as to not make too much noise..

the bedroom door is slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of the dark bedroom inside. he pushes the door open gently and your name leaves his lips with hope on its tail.

even in the dark room, he could tell it was you on his bed.

you’re asleep with a hand under your chin, another between your legs. why you had fallen asleep atop the covers instead of under, he didn’t really know.

he sits on the floor by the head of the bed and for a moment, all he can do is watch you. he rests his elbow on the mattress and his head on his arm, and watches. the careful, rhythmic rise and fall of your body. the way your lashes flutter just that much whilst your eyes dart behind your eyelids.

how long, he muses, could he keep doing this before it got weird? better to wake you now than have you wake and find him staring at you.

he pats your arm; once, twice. you only let out a low moan. your brows furrow ad body curls up more. a breath of laughter escapes him, and he tries again to wake you. this time, he reaches for your arm, rubbing gentle circles into your inner wrist.

“y/n,” he whispers. “y/n, i’m home. have you had dinner yet?”

the large inhale you take lets him know that you’re awake. he pulls his hand back, leans back altogether - no need to be so close, after all.

you raise the hand under your chin to rub your eyes, scratch your cheek - it's endearing, so endearing.

i love you, he thinks, and the thought is as new to him as the way you blink wearily as your eyes adjust to the dark. it’s as new to him as the way you let out a tired groan, pulling your whole body into a ball - and that’s to say it’s not new at all, because after so many years of friendship, he knew your habits and the things you do when you wake up. after so many years of friendship, the thought had taken residency in his brain the way the evening air had in his apartment, or the way the sun’s golden rays had across the cityscape.

“chan?” you stifle a yawn behind your hand and just when he thinks you’re about to get up, you close your eyes again, a tired smile falling on your lips as you snuggle back into his pillow. “welcome home.”

two;

he finds you on your couch, gazing at the coffee table without really seeing.

he knows that dazed look on you, knows that slight furrow of the brows and the tightness of your hands. he knows that you know he’s here from the way your head cocks towards the sound of his footsteps, the sound of your name. your eyes stay unseeing.

the sofa dips and you sway towards him when he takes a seat on the couch, facing you. you welcome the movement and the way it breaks your daze. chan extends an arm as you let your body continue to fall, and then he’s holding you against him.

“you okay?” a silly question, but it was a start.

the silence that surrounds the two of you is filled only by the static of the fridge in the kitchen, it’s electric buzz audible despite the distance. he can feel you take deep breaths, feel every exhale warm his chest.

“sorry, chan, i don’t think we can do movie night today.”

he shrugs, holds you tighter. what does it matter if plans change?

“you don’t need to stay. i’ll be okay later, but i- i don’t want you to stay here for no reason.”

he lets out a chuckle. “no, i’ll stay. of course i’ll stay.”

because i love you, he thinks, but the words are caught in his throat and something about the situation made him think that no, this wasn’t the time to confess his feelings, even if he meant well and wanted to help you with those words.

he knows that sometimes it’s not always a matter of making you feel better. sometimes it’s just a matter of being there for you, and sometimes that will be enough.

for however long he loves you, he’ll be there for you.

“when you’re ready, and if you want to, we can talk about what’s going on.”

“it’s just the same-”

“even if it’s just the same things as before.”

his heart is heavy with the pain of seeing you like this. his heart is heavy with the love he carries for you. his heart is heavy with his inability to make it all go away with a click of his fingers - if only it was that easy. one could wish, he supposes, but not all wishes can be fulfilled.

it’s not the first time he’s seen you like this, and it probably won’t be the last, but he’s okay with that. he wishes it was the last, of course, but chan knows that change takes time and he knows that loving you means loving all the versions of you, not just the versions that make him smile, or the ones that reassure him, or the ones that make him laugh (though he loves these ones immensely, too).

loving you means being on your side when your own brain is your biggest enemy. loving you means standing his ground about the fact that you are lovable and you are important and you do matter, even when you can’t stop thinking that you aren’t. loving you means being atlas, sometimes, and carrying the weight of your world for you so that you don’t need to do it alone.

for however long he loves you, he’ll make sure you’re not carrying your burdens alone.

three;

after-dinner walks with you are one of the things chan cherishes the most. the kiss of evening on his cheeks, your presence by his side as the two of you walk down streets lit by the yellow lights from the restaurants, the way you occasionally brush each other.

on this particular friday night, after a well-deserved dinner and a glass or two of wine, you’d decided to go on a stroll through the city and god was chan was glad he’d agreed to the aimless stroll.

if he were to recount this evening to someone else, they would probably be surprised that he hadn’t noticed the music until you’d pointed it out. following the sound, you’d found a small circle of people surrounding a performer- a guitarist, open case at their feet, mic stand raised to their height, and fingers playing the chords to a familiar song as they sang. a ring of fairy lights surrounded them, adding a wistfully magical atmosphere to the cold evening.

people were smiling, waving their phones with their flashlights on, and in the middle of the circle, people were dancing. children and adults, friends and lovers. it was a beautiful scene, but not quite as beautiful as your face lighting up as you pull him into the middle as well.

you’re pulling his hands out of his pocket and he thought he would mind the cold but it’s not so bad when your hands are in his and you’re smiling up at him. he’s being pulled along by your eyes your lips, the gentle swaying from side to side that he quickly matches. it’s magical, it’s blissful, its euphoric. he’s laughing at the enjoyment in your eyes, at the way you cheer when the busker finishes one song and moves onto another - one, two, three; one, two, three.

you’re holding onto each other’s elbows - not exactly the most intimate thing, or nearly the most romantic, but you’re rocking side to side together and there’s nowhere else that chan would rather be on this friday night, because-

because god he loves you so much - its all he can think about as the final chords of the outro play, as adlibs rise like adrenaline in chan’s veins because he wants to kiss you so bad right now and he doesn’t even care that there are people around but- but he does care what you think and maybe this isn’t the way to do it.

so as the song comes to a close, chan pulls you in and he might be smothering you with his jacket but he doesn’t care - if he looks at you any longer, his feelings would physically manifest and he doesn't know what he would do if that were to happen.

“chan?” your voice is muffled against his puffer, confusion and laughter softened against his chest.

“your face looked cold.” it’s a half truth to cover up the bigger lie.

“well,” you mumble, “it’s a good thing you’re warm.”

when you wrap your arms around him, the crowd applauds - at the two of you or at the performer, he doesn’t know.

and to be quite honest, he doesn’t care.

one;

you’d both fallen asleep with the curtains half opened - it had been too dark outside, too late in the night, the weariness of the day’s fun too heavy, that neither of you had realised the curtains weren’t fully closed.

not that it was a major problem, being three floors up, but it did make for an early rise.

chan finds his face closer to yours than he would have liked, though he confess the sight wasn’t too bad a thing to wake up to.

in the past, perhaps, he would have had no reservations, no worries about being so close to you in bed - but years of friendship had matured like wine, had left an aftertaste in his mouth that he was still trying to figure out if he enjoyed or not, if he wanted more or not.

no, he knew he wanted more, and that was what scared him. what if a bit more was actually too much? he didn’t know his limits, not with something like this. he didn’t know your limits. it was risky, was like drinking for the first time - the consequences didn’t quite hit until they hit. he could have a sip, have three, five, could be enjoying it all until suddenly it was too late-

rustling sheets pull him back to the present.

“chan?”

he’s reminded of an evening long past, as you rub your eyes. your gazes meet, but the fragility of tension is barely present this many years into the friendship.

“what are you thinking about, so early in the morning?”

a rhetorical question, perhaps, but the sunlight dancing on the wall behind you and the warmth under the covers and the innocent curiosity in your eyes pulls the words out of him.

“that i love you,” he says.

it’s… not as cathartic as he thought it would be but it’s enough.

it brings the dancing sunlight and gentle rise and fall of your body to a standstill. it brings the ticking clocks in his room and the saturday morning traffic outside his apartment to a mute. it brings his heart’s bpm from an andante to a moderato, an allegretto; he can hear it in his ears, feel it in his chest. the disjointment between his internal and external world almost sends his mind into momentary panic.

but you smile an angel’s smile, and he doesn’t quite understand what it means yet but he knows it’ll be alright.

“i know.”

for a moment, he thinks that those two words were all you had to say in reply. his mind dances on the line between friends and more (whatever that is, at this point) and whilst he can’t deny the existence of the slight disappointment in him, he’s grateful that nothing has changed.

until- until things do change.

“me too.” you pull the blankets up to your chin, curl up closer to him like you had so long ago when you were both younger with neither questioning the relationship. “i love you too.”

in some other universe, he might have disregarded your words as nothing more than ones of friendship - you both knew you loved each other as friends do, as you always had. but in this universe, he grasps onto the way you’ve practically buried your head into his chest. he grasps onto the warmth of your body, so early in the morning, so close to his. he grasps onto the slight shake in your voice, the way you had breathed out the words like a confession.

“okay,” he whispers into the crown of your head, arms almost shaking in disbelief as they settle around your body and draw you closer. “okay.”

—

a/n: scene 3 is inspired by this!! also, anyways, i havent written anything outside of academic work and evening star in so long that im surprised this even... ended up finished LMAO but ye i hope this was an okay read, if not enjoyable! gentle reminder that interactions of any kind will make my heart soar <3

[amsgrey]

I judt found this draft/idea thing in my drafts from over two years ago (written before Little Sister Hugs) and i genuinely cracked up so much rereading it bc it would be really funny.

would anyone be interested in this?

Jay and hailey are busy with a case involving drug trafficking with military dudes or smth

you and will go out for dinner bc you get like n A+ in science or some shit and Will is all proud older brother

you get a call from Jay that the case is ramping up so he wont be home tonight and then ur like lit ill stay at wills i just gotta grab some stuff

you and will walk in and the house is like a mess and your like uh wtf

and will is like ok let me call jay or the cops or whatever

before he can he gets like smacked from behind like all those stupid movies

ur like o shit what the actual fuck

these big old dudes are in all black and holding like riffles bc intimidating and ur like :o

and ur standing in the kitchen so you do that really funny grab for the closest weapon and its like a pan that was waiting to dry or something entirely useless

theyre like yeah ok sure put it down u dimwit

u like stand over will being like feck off my brothers a cop

theyre like ha lol yeah we know we tryna find him where he at

ur like ha what i dont know? wouldn't have a clue

and theyre like ok then u come with us and ur like uh no sir

omg what if they chloroformed them that would be the funniest trope ever

jay is like workin the case being all undercover n shit and then he gets a call and its wills phone and hes like oh what did y/n do

will is like silent

jay is like yo whats up u alg

OR WHAT IF ITS LIKE WHAT THEY DID TO SAY WHERE THEY JUST SEND LIKE A SUPER FUCKING ANGSTY SHIT QUALITY VIDEO OF THEM LIKE BEATING WILL WHICH IS SUPER FUCKING NOT FUNNY BUT IS FUNNY TO IMAGINE THE UNO REVERSE FOR JAY

Jay immediately looses his mind and tries calling u like wheres will tf

obvi u dont answer and hes like this aint right

the team go to jays house and its all like torn apart but nothign like bad?

they call in the lab and the labs were like oh hey there's blood but they cleaned it? or smth

jay is spiralling and then they get anoter video of u? idk something else angsty

theyre like release our dude and give us back all the idk like guns and shit and voight is like ok well no way they let us do that

jay almost going cowboy cop

everyones like well this is great

you are like locked up by zipties bc criminals are stupid and you manage to like breakfree like a real mvp

u like find a gun or smth bc thats fun and free will

your all like well theres enough warehouses n creepy buildings in chicago for u to be anywhere so tf where we at

wills all leave me bc thats a funny trope and ur like shut the fuck up u dumbass

some military dude comes round the corner with his gun and sees u tryna walk with dead weight will and hes like? what are-

you shoot him bc badass bitch

he like fall down is all bloody and ur like o shit i just killed a man

will is like ya we gotta go ok like this shit serious fam

you walk around a corner and they all be sitting around in the big room and u and will are like oh hi guys

they all like point guns and ur like ah man we dead

but then!! intellegence is all out ur guns on the ground now! police things!

one of them like aims his gun but someone shoots his gUN bc i think thats the badassest thing ever and then he like has a bleeding hand and grabs u and knife to the throat thing bc trope central over here

no one has a clean shot so they all like omg dude let her go

do u get like seriously hurt? lowkey imagine like them dying and jay and will being like a mess ok thats way too dark but i like?

you either

die

get seriously maimed like idk loose a limb or smth idk

or ur unharmed and are like omg how am i not even bruised tf is this

depends on the level of angst idk

if anyone wants to ready this lmk i might actually write it

[levisolace]

[1] Expendable Hearts (Levi x F!Reader)

Chapter 1: Windex and Baking Soda

WC: 7,182 Chapter Warnings: slight angst Summary: Everyone in Levi's life knows he only ever dated one girl and that she left him wrecked, bitter, and heartbroken. Many years later, she's back in his life and he doesn't know what to do. story masterlist > next chapter

“It’s always my pleasure, Mr. Brown.”

The corporate smile on your face drops as soon as you hit the end button in the video call application on your laptop. It was the first meeting of the day with a client and you were already exhausted, wanting nothing but to go home and curl up in bed, heavily surrounded by your pillows and weighted blanket for hours. But you know that’s a dream that would remain a fantasy for a while. Why? Because it’s a Monday. It’s only the start of the week and judging from the pile of paperwork delivered to your desk this morning, you would have to work overtime again for the third week in a row. 

Being recently hired by one of the top leading firms in the country is a blessing you will be thankful for every day but as the week goes by and you’re on your fifth pile of paperwork, more than ten meetings in one week, you can’t help but think what would it be like to work for a small, quiet firm. You shrug those thoughts away as soon as they come. You’re grateful for the more-than-average salary the firm provides, at least.

The day went on as it always does: hours of you trying to ignore your back pain. It was becoming unbearable and you can’t even use the ointments your grandmother used to insist you use because it would no doubt infest the building with its smell—your reputation and first impression from your coworkers is at stake. 

As you’re typing back an email from your superior, Atty. Dot Pixis, you halt when you feel the buzzing on your table. You pick it up mindlessly, checking to see the notification. A smile spreads on your face to see that it’s your previous boss, Vanessa. 

hey. how’s working with the big leagues?? pixis is not tiring you out too much is he?? i can give him a word if you want.

pixis is treating me really well, nes. thank u for checking up on me! i miss everyone there at the firm and little ian :(( 

Vanessa, besides being your former boss back in Olsen & Associates, is also your friend and self-proclaimed older sister. She's a well-known attorney, and Olsen is a legend back in law school because she’s an alumnus who’s actually cool and doesn’t have their head up their asses. However, after deciding to settle down and start a family, she opened up a small firm in her hometown. 

i might just have to visit bc i miss my little sis :(( should’ve never let u leave

technically, it’s your fault i left 

i know :( don't remind me

Two months ago, Vanessa told you that ODM is hiring and Pixis contacted her to see if she knows anyone to take the job. Your jaw dropped to the ground when she told you she recommended you and you can send in your resume if you’re interested. It was an offer no one could pass up so before you knew it, you were being hauled into a hours-long bus ride and then anxiously seated for an interview in the city you used to live in. And after about a week of being a nervous wreck waiting for their response, you were contacted that you’ve been selected for the position.

Now here you are, finally settled in your office. You still can’t believe you have your own space in this huge building. You would’ve never thought you’d be working here in the firm you only used to stare at in awe while passing by years ago. 

Although, you have to admit that you miss the warm feeling of the small firm where you all know each other, exchange heartfelt greetings, and gossip when there are not too many clients. Now, you pass by a new face every now and then, most not even bothering to greet you or spare you a look. You can’t blame them. The work here is drastic. 

By the time you left the office, it’s already dark and way past office hours. As you were driving home, you remembered you still needed a few supplies in your apartment. You haven’t exactly settled yourself in, prioritizing work more. God, you even still had a few boxes to unpack. 

You stopped by a 24-hour supermarket that you spotted on your way to work this morning when you had to reroute because of the traffic. It was a little out of the way but it would do. It was still two hours before midnight, anyway.

As you drag your feet through the aisles and drop whatever you felt like you needed in the cart, unwanted memories come creeping in. The air in Paradis City is still the same. Even if a few buildings might have changed or some stores you used to frequent have closed down, it was still the same Paradis you knew—a buzzing city filled with dreams. The streets are never empty, famously congested by students from top universities or office workers. 

When you got the offer for the job, you weighed out the pros and cons. There were only two cons you were able to determine:

You don’t want to leave Olsen & Associates and Vanessa’s hometown, Trost, and

You’d be going back to your hometown, the one you promised not to go back to. 

The pros outweigh the cons, obviously. That weight being the thick fat salary you would be getting. Besides, Paradis is huge and has like three million residents. It’s not like you’d cross paths with him. And it’s been years. He probably forgot all about you anyway. You barely think about him. It was just a silly puppy-love relationship. No biggie.

Keep telling yourself that.

Shut up. 

“That one’s better.”

A voice directed to you made you snap out of your thoughts. It made you painfully aware of how you had been staring at the two options of green tea in your hand for probably more than the normal minutes it takes one to decide. The tall brunette had on a face mask covering half his face, his hair parted in the middle, and he wore a simple light blue button-down and black slacks. He was about two feet away from you when he pointed at the tea canister in your right hand. 

“Oh. Thanks,” you replied sheepishly. Desperate to run away from the embarrassment of zoning out in the middle of a public space, you take his advice and put down the canister on your left hand back to the shelf. 

“You’re welcome. I see my friend drinking it all the time so it has to be good,” he nods and you see his cheeks prop up, probably sporting a smile beneath the mask. You smiled back and thanked him again.

“Can you grab that one for me?” He points at a sweet one, a flavor in contrast with the green tea you chose. It was on the shelf being blocked by your cart beside you. You quickly mutter an apology and reach for a can. 

“My fiancée prefers her tea fruity,” he explains even if you didn’t ask, his ears tinted a bit red from his own statement. You immediately find it endearing. He seems very fond of his partner as he continues to babble about her. “Well actually, she prefers coffee with an unhealthy amount of espresso shots but I eventually persuaded her to drink tea once in a while.” 

“Moby! I know we usually don’t get this brand but guess what? This has a free pink sponge!” 

You freeze at the sound of that awfully loud and familiar cheerful voice heading towards you at a fast pace. You couldn’t turn your head. Your fingers unconsciously grip the can you’re holding harshly with wide eyes. Silently, you were wishing that the person just had the same voice as the crazed tall woman with glasses you used to know or the man beside you isn’t named ‘Moby.’ The former would hardly be the case because from the sound of the voice, the personality of being uncaring of the silent atmosphere of the supermarket, and the way she ran excitedly from your peripheral vision, you were sure that this person was your old friend Hange. For the latter, your last hope dies down as you see the stranger turn his head at the sound of his name and reply with a sigh.

“What the hell are you gonna do with a sponge, babe? We have lots of sponges.”

“Okay but imagine! We swap out Levi’s sponge with a pink one.” 

“I don’t think Levi cares about the color as long as it cleans.”

The fight or flight response in you went crazy at the mention of the name you haven’t heard in years, heavily leaning on the former. You could just hand this guy named Moby’s tea and make a run for it. You doubt Hange would care while being heavily invested in her free pink sponge. 

But why would you run? You only run when you’re scared or did something wrong. Which is it? It can't be the latter, right? 

I did. 

Oh? So you did. You’re scared, huh? That she’d get angry at you for what you did back then. 

I am. 

Run then. That’s all you know to do anyway.

Shut up. Leave me alone. 

“Miss? Are you okay?” 

For the second time in front of the same stranger, you were snapped out of your trance and find yourself gripping the can so hard that you think you’ve made a light dent on the can. Damn, you should really get a decent amount of sleep. You’ve been losing it a lot lately. 

You shake your head and slap your cheek lightly with your free hand. “Sorry. Lack of sleep. I’m fine. Here.” 

You turn to him and hand him the can, hoping he wouldn’t mind the barely noticeable dent you made. Purposely, you don’t stray your eyes away from the man. You don’t want to be the first person to acknowledge Hange. Maybe she doesn’t even remember you. Maybe she doesn’t even want to acknowledge you. 

“Greenie?” 

It was more of a mutter. But with how loud Hanji’s voice is, you and Moby clearly heard it. 

That’s when you look at her and actually see her. She looks the same as you saw her last. Her brown hair was tied up in a ponytail and her brown eyes were covered by thick-rimmed glasses. Nothing much has changed from her appearance except for the disappearance of the youthful look now replaced by maturity. Her gaze is fixed on you, slack-jawed. Her reaction doesn’t surprise or faze you, having expected that much. It’s what would follow that you’re nervous about. What would she say? Will she get angry at you? Or will she even remember who you are? Somehow, you dread that last possible outcome worst. 

“H-Hange,” you breathily let out. You wonder if it’s audible. 

Her fiancé also looks shocked, staring at you and then back to Hanji with widened eyes. “This is Greenie? The Greenie?” He points at you while asking Hange who was still frozen. His tone and reference to you immediately tell you that you have been discussed with people you never met, no doubt now knowing your past with them. 

Greenie. You haven’t heard that nickname in a while. 

It was silent for a few seconds, eyes not straying from each other. You probably look apologetic—scared, even. The man beside her is waiting too. You think he’s having a mini breakdown in disbelief. 

When you see her start to lunge at you, you shut your eyes, expecting her palm to collide with your cheek. You expect her to slap you and scream at you in the middle of the cold supermarket. You expect her to ask you where you got the nerve to come back to the city after all you’ve done. 

Instead, what she did broke down all your expectations. 

Long and slender arms wrap around your figure, pulling you tightly to her chest. Your face is squished against the fabric of her fluffy parka jacket. Even if you suddenly have trouble breathing with how tight her hug is, you were thankful that it covered your face and how you were biting your lower lip, trying to suppress the relief that comes with tears.

“Where the hell have you been?!”

You couldn’t even answer. Or move at all. Not that you even know what to say. 

“Hange. You’re killing her.” You hear her partner say. Hange instantly loosens her grip on you, muttering an apology with a slight chuckle. When she looks down at you, you give her a gentle smile.

“I missed you too, Hange.” And you meant it. 

The tall woman was still not letting you go, arms wrapped just below your shoulders because of the height difference. Even if you were caged in her arms, you can still tilt your head up to look at her. Suddenly, tears started streaming down her face as she tilts her head down to you, her mouth quivering. Then it turns into full-on sobbing. You chuckle as she starts swaying you with her, going side to side like a pendulum as she sobs while wailing your name repeatedly. 

There was no stopping Hange when she gets like this. So you let it happen. You let her hug you like she did many times before. You relish the moment, wanting to pass out and let loose in her hold. Maybe you’re dreaming and you’ll wake up in your bed, filled with disappointment and yearning for some warmth.

When she was satisfied, she let you go and introduced you to Moblit, her fiancé and coworker. They walked with you as you continued to shop, telling you stories about her and Moblit. Thankfully for your sake, she didn’t ask you much about yourself or what happened when you were away. She just asked how you were doing right now and what you were doing in the city. Although you were scared that the news would get to him, you told her the truth that you recently got hired at the law firm. 

“So you moved back then? Like permanently?” Her brows raised in excitement. 

“Well, I have a temporary contract for six months before I’m permanently employed there so hopefully,” you shrug while heading to checkout. As expected, Hange doesn’t care that you practically explained that it’s technically a ‘not yet,’ she shrieks and jumps up and down anyway. 

“Oh my god, this is perfect! Greenie, one of my bridesmaids had to back out but we already had the dress paid and it’s a no-refund. Can you step in for her and attend our wedding? Would you? Please? Please?” Hange begs you, hands clasped together as she stares at you with puppy eyes and a pout. 

You stop in your tracks and feel your heart sink to the ground. She wants you to attend her wedding knowing that many, if not everyone, you used to know will be there. And if his name was so casually mentioned earlier, that meant that they were still very much best friends and he would definitely be there.

And a few minutes ago you were convincing yourself that you wouldn’t accidentally run into him in this city. Now, you have to actually see him and be in the same room for a few hours? 

You start with a chuckle. “Oh. I wouldn’t mean to impose—” 

You were abruptly overpowered by her loud negation. “No, you wouldn’t! Everyone would be ecstatic to see you! I swear.” 

“But—“

Hange sighs dramatically, shoulders slumping with a pout on her face. “I guess it’d be too much, wouldn’t it? You’re probably busy, right? Right. Sorry, I just got excited.” She turns to her boyfriend. “Moby, can you pay for our stuff and Greenie’s too?” 

“What?”

Your eyes widened but before you could protest or take a strong hold on your cart, Moblit was already dragging it away and sending a flying kiss to Hange who giggled like a schoolgirl to catch it with her fist. You turn to her in disbelief as he turns his back. She catches your face, knowing what you’re about to say. 

“It’s fine. That won’t make a dent in his bank account.”

Just like that, you were painfully reminded how no one could get a word in with Hange. 

“Un-fucking-believeable.” 

Niccolo, the training chef, flinched from behind him when the silver-eyed man let out an unprovoked profanity as he entered the restaurant. Connie, his loyal secretary, doesn’t even bat an eye at the unprofessional behavior of his boss, only following behind him with a straight face. 

“Shithead. Call Nile later. Tell him I want a new team on this…” his words halt in disgust as he sees the unfinished, poorly done walls of what was to be a new branch of Kuchel’s. “or I’ll fire his stupid construction company out of every damn project. Verbatim.” 

“Will do, sir.” Connie nods, mentally sighing. Not only is he used to hearing the profanities, but he’s also used to being ordered to say it too. 

Levi nods at his secretary’s response, eager to leave the abomination that was supposed to be at 80% progress at this date. As he turns, he’s faced with Connie and a blonde man he doesn’t know. 

“Who’s this?” 

The blonde man practically shivered at his haze, the corner of his lips twitching at the sides. It was a sad attempt at a smile. Mentally, Connie sighed at his boss’ unfocused mind when there was something that greatly irritates him. The trainee chef was just literally in the car with them and Levi told Connie to bring the chef with them on the way to check the new location. 

“This is Niccolo, sir. He was in the car with us. He’s the one highly considered by the HR,” Connie expertly answered. 

“So you’re on the last stage,” Levi addresses Niccolo. The nervous man gulps but answers. “Yes, sir.” 

Connie watches the exchange, feeling a bit of pity for the tall man cowering at the gaze of such a short guy with a temper taller than a skyscraper. He was exactly like this when Levi interviewed him for the position. 

“Sorry, I had to make a detour because some shitheads can’t do their job right. Let’s go.” 

And so Niccolo and Connie followed the grumpy man back to the vehicle they just got not even three minutes ago. 

Not that he knew what to expect or had guesses but Niccolo was utterly surprised that he was brought to the first Kuchel’s restaurant. The legendary one that went viral. 

When he passed by the reception area, his eyes widened when he saw the reservation list filled with no spots left. It was practically booked for the month from what he saw. 

The kitchen smelled amazing, each one of the cooks was busy and they actually looked happy while working. They worked with so much coordination and laughter like he had never seen before. 

He thought that he’d train or cook with them today, seeing as they’re Kuchel’s main branch’s team. He was excited too. But again, Levi surprises him when he pushes another door open from the kitchen, revealing a staircase. The man says nothing but climbs upstairs. 

Confused but too scared to ask, Niccolo only stares at Connie but who beckons him to follow him up the stairs. When he sees Levi take a glance behind him, his feet move on its own, following the cold short man’s steps.

He sees a living room first. It’s a simple home but maintained well enough to look pristine. He kept on following Levi as he eventually led him to a kitchen. Levi turned to him and he’d be lying if he said that his heart didn’t jump at his sudden order. 

“Do whatever you like. You have an hour.” 

And then he leaves the kitchen, leaving Niccolo confused as he looks around at the domestic kitchen. He sees Connie, Levi’s assistant aggressively mouthing the words ‘cook anything’ as he follows Levi back to the living room. 

“Good job. I think he liked it.” 

Connie whispers to Niccolo before he leaves. Normally, he isn’t allowed to tell the training chefs what Levi thinks. But he’s feeling a little silly and Niccolo is his friend and his best friend, Sasha’s, boyfriend. 

Just like all the other training chefs, Levi brought Niccolo to his old home to cook something for him. Levi is hella picky with them but Connie could see that he actually liked his friend’s food. There was no pursing of lips, which was the worst of them all. Connie had to scramble and get the trainee out before he burst the room into a myriad of colorful words no one wants to hear. 

When they got back to the office, Hange was already there and most probably uninvited. 

“What the fuck are you doing here, four eyes?” 

Levi’s eyes were seething with annoyance as he sees his friend sitting at his desk on his chair, spinning around like an idiot. It was hard to believe that this woman is a professor at one of the most prestigious universities in the country. 

“Shorty! You’re here!” She exclaimed, slamming her hands down on the fine wood of Levi’s desk to stop the chair from spinning. 

“Get the fuck up before I strangle you to death, Hange.” 

Hange chuckles but stands up anyway, skipping before plopping herself on the couch in Levi’s office. “Can you relax? I was just here to remind you that I’m getting married.” 

Levi groans and rolls his eyes. “Who would fucking forget, Hange? You text a fucking countdown at seven in the morning in the group chat tagged to everyone. The mute option has been fucking useless since you learned how to do it.” 

Levi sits down on his chair and switches on his computer to return to work despite his friend’s unsolicited visit to his office. 

“Oh! I wanted to ask you something too! Do you have a date for the wedding? So I can take note of a plus one, maybe?” 

He gives a blank stare to his friend for a second before turning back to his screen. “You know you can ask me that through a phone call, right?” He began typing away on his laptop, answering a few emails Connie forwarded to him. 

“Well, you blocked my number so I thought that you’d rather see me in person.” Hange shrugs with a grin.

Levi pauses, remembering that he did block Hange’s number that one night she insisted for he come over and watch a horror movie with Erwin and Moblit. He was working and couldn’t turn his phone on do not disturb mode so he had to specifically block Hange’s calls. He then proceeds to forget to unblock her until now. 

“So, no date?” Hange presses further. 

Levi grunts, annoyed at the stupid question. “Who the fuck am I gonna bring? It’s not like I’m gonna bring a random girl to your wedding, Hange.” 

“You totally could. They’re called escorts,” Hange suggests like a know-it-all.

“I don’t want a random stranger in your wedding pictures, four eyes.” 

“I would rather have that than see you so depressing in my pictures with your bitch face. Oh! Want me to set you up on a blind date?” Hange’s voice rises again, something that happens when she gets excited over an idea. 

“Fuck no,” Levi spat. 

“Your last serious relationship was decades ago, Levi. Give it a try again.” 

If looks could kill, funeral flowers would be thrown at Hange’s casket instead of wedding flowers. His fingers hover over the keyboard, hanging frozen at her words. At the mere implication of you, his blood boils and his chest tightens. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Well–”

“Are you saying I’m not over her again, Hange?” 

Before she could answer, the door swung open, revealing a tall blonde man with thick eyebrows who was grinning cheek to cheek. Great. Erwin’s here. Maybe they could send a few more uninvited people, order greasy pizza, and have a party in his office. 

“Over who?” Erwin asks, ever the gossip man. Levi grunts and rests his forehead in his palms as Hange greets Erwin enthusiastically before answering.

“You know who.”

Erwin narrows his eyes at Levi before sitting down on the other edge of the couch. Hange tells him about getting a blind date. “You could try, Hange. I’ve set him up with surprise blind dates before and you know how that went.” 

“Can you two fucking shut up and leave? I’m trying to work here,” Levi spat in annoyance. The pair ignores his grumbling, carrying on their conversation like he wasn’t in the room.

“But I have never set him up with someone before,” Hange points out. 

Erwin purses his lips. “I doubt that you can find a girl better than me, Hange. I tried everything.” 

Erwin and Hange look at each other with mischief, clearly enjoying Levi’s suffering from their teasing. He knows they won’t stop. If anything, it only egged them on further.

Hange places a finger on her chin obnoxiously. “Maybe you could ask the girl to wear green next time.” 

Erwin nods, crossing his arms like he’s actually considering it. “Absolutely. We all know Levi still loves his greenie.” 

God, even her nickname is a pain to hear. 

Levi slams a hand down his mahogany desk so loud that people outside his office probably heard it. It didn’t faze his friends who were snickering on the couch though. They know he’s about to blow. He’s so frustrated that he almost ran a finger through his well-kept hair but caught himself before damaging it, exhaling loudly in frustration before speaking. 

“Look, you dipshits. I told you a thousand times. Forget about that damned woman. I’m not dating because I’m goddamn busy with all these expansions, not because I’m not over a girl who left us all without a fucking trace.” Every word is laced with venom and he ends it with a huff. 

“Fine. We get it. You’re over her but you’re still angry at her.” Hange rolls her eyes. 

Levi doesn’t know exactly when they started referring to her as mere stories or inside jokes. But evidently, it turned out that way. They used to be hurt at the thought of her disappearing. Slowly, they started to forget. Except him. He’s still angry and confused when he thinks of a reason why. 

“I am,” he admits.

“And if she comes to see you again? What will you do?” 

This question again, Levi thinks. 

He sighs. Like an automated machine, he answers the question as he did a myriad of times before, the first being the answer to one of your stupid games of what-if questions when you were together. Most were just ways to make him say those damn three words to you. It was usually just dumb things like “What if I was a worm?” and he would roll his eyes and tell you that he would unhesitatingly kill you before kissing you when you frown in disappointment. One question, however, deeply offended him more than anything. 

“Levi, what if I asked you to break up with me?” 

You were sitting on the couch with a blanket draped over your legs, still reeling from the sad romantic movie the two of you watched where the disabled paralyzed man still decides to die even after he fell in love with his caregiver. 

Levi, who’s in the middle of choosing another movie from your collection of DVDs, freezes in his seat. He doesn’t turn to look at you but you see his whole body tensed up having heard what you said.

“What if we break up like that?” 

You repeat the question with a pout on your lips. Levi finally looks at you with a frown on his face. He sighs and looks away, gaze lifting up for a second as if he’s thinking. 

“No,” he answers even if the question upsets him. “We’re not gonna break up.”

You noticed that his mood falters from your question.  Feeling a little bad, you wrap a hand around his bicep, pulling yourself close to his side. With a smile, you lean in and give him a peck on the cheek. “Don’t be sad. It was just hypothetical.”

He instantly leans unto you. He always does so when you’re near—like opposite sides of a magnet being pulled together by force. He always wants to be near you.

“Can you just go back to stupid questions like the worm shit?” He asks with a low voice, faces too close to each other that his lips could brush yours. 

You give him a teasing grin and hum, nodding but doing the exact opposite of what he asked. Ever his stubborn girl, you continue asking. “But what if I leave you?” 

He glares at you, not very pained this time, knowing it’s just you teasing again. Instead, his brows furrowed as he gazed down at you with his silver eyes. His eyes flick down to your lips and his lower lip brushes against yours for a millisecond. When you were sure he was about to kiss you, he shoves a hand at your face and pushes you away with a little force, making you land on the couch on your back. 

You laugh but curse him out loud for his attack. Levi huffs, crossing his arms and looking away. 

“If you do that, I will ignore you for the rest of my fucking life. You’re dead to me.” He says it with so much conviction that you know he doesn’t mean a word of it. 

You sit up again, frowning then lightly slapping his shoulder. “That’s rude. What if I come back to see you, then?” 

He scoffs loudly, still looking away from you, and spots his box of cleaning supplies. Then, he says the second thing that comes into his mind, thinking that the first one he thought of would seem desperate and pathetic of him. 

He opens his mouth to speak and the words you hear from him causes an ever louder laugh out of you. He smiles before pushing you on your back again. This time, pulling himself on top of you and sealing your lips with a kiss. 

“I’d spray her with some fucking Windex, throw baking soda on her stupid face, and kick her out.” 

Usually, the statement is so funny to them that it ends the conversation. Sometimes, he even gives them a demonstration where one of their unlucky friends gets to be on the receiving end. But this time, Erwin has a follow-up question that goes straight to Levi’s chest.

“And if she insists on staying? What will you do?” 

Levi went quiet. Hange and Erwin give a knowing sad look at each other that Levi doesn’t catch. They didn’t mean to push him this hard. But they had to know if he was ready. 

From just outside his door where Connie’s desk is placed, his secretary listens in as well. He heard about his boss’ ex. The whole office knows about it. His mysterious ex and the only woman Levi Ackerman loved. That was what everyone knew. But from spending too much time with his boss more than he wanted to, Connie had learned the following about his boss’ only relationship:

Her nickname is Greenie because she liked green tea. Levi prefers black tea but he accidentally told you he liked green tea too then ran with it for four months until Hanji revealed the truth accidentally.

The four of them knew each other for a long time. He doesn’t know if they met in high school or college. But in school, definitely.

After getting their undergraduate degree, she asked Levi to break up and broke his heart with words.

After the breakup, she disappeared from Paradis. Levi waited for her for a long time, broken and yearning. She didn’t come back. Now, all Levi has is bitterness in his body.

Those are what Connie gathered from his little detective skills to cope with having to work under the horribly mannered man. Then, he shares it with his best friend, Sasha, during his lunch break. 

He listens a little more, the email he was reading sitting idle for longer than it should. His boss still doesn’t answer. 

Inside, Erwin and Hange await their friend’s reply who is still lost in his own thoughts. Erwin decides to push him one last time. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. 

“If she comes to you for closure, will you accept it? You’re over her, right? You can stay angry, that’s valid. She did you wrong. But will you at least hear her?” 

Levi keeps quiet but listens to Erwin. The word closure gives his stomach an unsettling feeling. It felt wrong to hear it. But it doesn’t matter. His friends were just bored and bluffing again. He can bluff too. 

“I don’t really care about her as much as you think I still do. When I see her, I’ll do what I said I would. Then it’s done. I don’t care what she does anymore.” 

It’s been five days since you coincidentally met Hange and Moblit. Before you parted ways, you exchanged numbers and your old friend has been messaging you nonstop. You appreciated it. Hange was always light-hearted and kind. You’re glad she found someone who appreciates her and takes care of her. So when she mentioned that there was a conflict with the invitations, you offered to fix it for her, knowing a thing or two about it. You handled project management a few times as an intern. 

There was once a time when you called her your best friend. You know that’s a title you no longer hold but either way, you were glad to talk to her again. Even if you know that in the very near future, you would have to face what it holds for you. Now that Hange is back in your life, it’s only a matter of time and you’d have to see your ex again. You lie awake at night thinking of what you’d do then. 

It was Saturday. That means no work for you after lunch, thankfully. You ground through your paper works and clients like a corporate machine all week, wanting to finish them before Saturday so you wouldn’t have to go overtime on a weekend. And after about nine cups of highly caffeinated green tea, you finally finished all your work for the week. Now free from the shackles of labor and capitalism, you slung your tote bag over your shoulder and headed out of your office and onto the elevator. 

Passing by Pixis’ office, you inform him you’re taking your leave which he cheerfully allowed, wishing you a happy weekend before you left his office. You bid him to have the same and left the building, anxious to see through the next events of the day. If this was a normal weekend, you’d be content with wasting away in bed as soon as you rushed home. 

You handled the invitations over the week, using your break time to oversee how it’s going with the printing service you trust for things like this. They generously accepted your request for a rush order, knowing who you are. 

The invitations were piled into a box on your coffee table by Friday, ready to be sent out to Hange’s guests. When you texted Hange that they were ready, she sent over her apartment’s address, telling you to personally meet her there on Saturday after work. She argues when you tell her you can just send it in the same day through an app, whining about how she wants to hang out with you. 

Hange, ever the persuasive and persistent person, got you to agree. That, and you still feel guilty for declining her invitation to her wedding. 

After you press the doorbell, you wait patiently with your left hand holding the small box of invitations. Her apartment was apparently a penthouse. An apartment in this building already costs an arm and a leg. Hange is smart and talented, one of her research must’ve been really successful. You also remembered that she was probably living with Moblit here. Ah, the wonders of having a partner in life—shared rent. Maybe you should get a roommate. 

When the door was taking too long to be answered, you shoot up a text for Hange. 

hey i’m here outside ur door ! :)) 

ok! just wAit a bit

It didn’t take Hange long to reply, easing your anxiety a little. When it takes more than a minute after she sends her text, you tilt your head in confusion. Are you at the correct address? Maybe you’re at the wrong unit. You were pretty sure you were on the right one, though. You rechecked it a few times. 

You wait a little bit more before ringing the doorbell again. You assume she’s probably grossed into something and can’t take the door at the moment. With a sigh, you wait a few more minutes, turning away from the door and deciding to scroll through your social media accounts that you barely use. 

A smile involuntarily plasters itself on your face when you see the posts of your coworkers from Trost. Warmth spreads to your chest as you see the office through the pictures, reminiscing your time there. It’s suddenly frightening, the realization that you’re alone in this huge city with no one to turn to. It’s a feeling you’re awfully familiar with, a state you’d rather not return to. 

When you feel yourself drift away to those thoughts, you pull yourself away immediately, figuring that the time you waited should be enough to press the doorbell again. 

But as you turn around to press it for the second time, the door swings open harshly in a swift motion, making you jump a little in surprise and fear as you hear an annoyed groan from a man that is most definitely not Hange coming with it. 

“For fuck’s sake. Did Hange give a woman my addre…”

The two of you froze. 

The raven-dark hair parted in the middle. The undercut. Those gray eyes and his beautiful piercing gaze. Those high cheekbones and soft cheeks. Those furrowed brows and scrunched forehead that was softly dissipated from his face when he sees you standing behind the door. Those delicate pink lips, now parted in awe and mirroring yours.

Neither of you can move like you were frozen in time. Every muscle in your body refused to move. Your brain stopped functioning and wasn't even able to conjure a coherent thought, much less a response. The only thing you could do was stare at the man you once called home. 

He still had dark under eyes but they were more prominent than before. You hate how it still suited him even if you hated how little he sleeps; they make his gaze heavier, willing you to get lost with him. A few strands of his fringe fall over his eyes. They were a little longer than what you were used to but it was still the same haircut you used to run your hand over when you were cuddling. It was a little unkempt. And even though his white shirt is a little crumpled, it still smoothly falls over his frame. It drapes from his defined shoulders to his waist until the hem of the shirt goes over the band of his gray sweatpants that hugged his legs loosely. 

He breaks the gaze spell when his eyes go over you, top to bottom. He stares at your shocked and devastated countenance, the casual but decent clothes that you changed into after work, the box in your hand, and the way your right foot has stepped further back than your left when he opened the door, ready to run away at the thought the man who opened the door was angry. 

You open your mouth to speak. You know you have to say something. Anything. Hi? Hello? How are you? Is this where Hange lives? Why the fuck do you still look so hot? 

But none of that comes out.

Why? 

Levi’s face hardens before you can speak, wiping off the bewildered eyes and replacing them with his infamous glare, silver eyes glistening with specks of anger. His mouth closes into a frown but not before scoffing at you. The scorned expression on his face shuts you right up for a second but you try and carry on.

This time, before you can speak, he slams the door shut in your face with an impact so loud it booms through your whole being enough to raise all the hair on your skin, leaving you standing there in his floor’s corridor appalled and deeply belittled.

Your startled brain is more confused than ever. As you decide to slowly process what happened and not even ten seconds after he harshly shuts his door, it swings open again, revealing the same man who not-so-gently shut it, with a hand still on the knob and the other holding something blue.

His arm outstretched towards you and you were faced with a nozzle of a familiar spray bottle. With a straight face, he sprays the fucking liquid right on your face. You immediately shut your eyes and mouth, leaning your face away from the spray. Although it’s far enough to not cover your face if you hadn’t moved, you still cringe when you feel the tiny droplets on your skin.

You lift one eye open, scared that he’s about to spray again. He puts the bottle down to his side, looking satisfied with his work. When you open both eyes, he shuts the door again, leaving you in the corridor with heightened emotions from the first time he did it paired with an itching aggravation. 

Was that a fucking Windex? 

Hold on. Windex? 

The door swings open again and he fully reveals himself without a hand on the knob like the two times before. This time he’s holding an orange cardboard box labeled Pure Baking Soda and reaches into it with his other hand. 

You shut your eyes close immediately, realizing what was happening when you remembered his words to you years ago. 

“I’d spray you with some fucking Windex, throw baking soda on your face, and kick you out.” 

The baking soda hits your face, making your nose involuntarily scrunch up because of the fistful of powder he threw at you. When you guess that he’s satisfied after successfully throwing you the promised baking soda, you blink your eyes open, finding him still standing there with a straight face. 

“Are you done?” you asked with a deadpan face, covered with baking soda.

© levisolace. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only on my ao3 account. thank you.

[daisyjonesgf]

ur supposed to be focusing on the usual angst, not making up new wips for more 💔😭

BUT now that’s it’s out there… 👀

see, with this i feel it happened early enough into the relationship but when it did happen muse and billy’s dynamic had already been established. to be more specific its been three-four months after her first serious pregnancy scare (the one where she went to eddie for comfort and he was basically just like ‘i’ll help u raise the baby if u pick me’ and all that stuff only to get her period after a bit). after a quick google search, miscarriages typically happen within the first 12 weeks (2 1/2 months sorta) of pregnancy so if muse were to have miscarried she would’ve also found out sooner depending on how early on she miscarried.

honestly, muse either had a gut feeling and took the test or was at a doctor’s appointment and found out there. she hides it and doesn’t tell billy as he’d probably loose his shit on her. she doesn’t acknowledge that she is pregnant, more than likely disassociates for the longest time after finding out. she’d be aware enough to stop all her bad habits for the time that she is pregnant, raising a few eyebrows but no one looks into it (billy didn’t even notice). her brief pregnancy is the only time she genuinely thought about leaving billy, and the miscarriage happens during a time where billy and muse are having one of their most explosive fights so far, she loses the baby due to excessive stress, just when she was actually coming around to the idea of having a baby, a tiny little human that’d need her and love her and needed to be cared for, a baby that’d be her’s to love and care for (a tiny part of muse hates billy for it, knowing that if he hadn’t put her through his shit, she’d have had a perfect, healthy baby in her arms only a few months later, it’s the knowing that hurts the most). for months on end after the miscarriage muse keeps having those realistic dreams of a baby, from the birth to them saying their first word, she wakes up a tight emptiness in her chest every night when she realizes that there is no baby, and she cries.

daisy is the only one who knows for the longest time, billy doesn’t find out till they’re trying for tonya and muse is still very much apprehensive of the idea of pregnancy.

-❤️‍🩹

I'm sorry pookie 😭 I needed some really hard hitting angst I fear

it's got to be a couple years in for this one bc daisy is around by then, but by this time muse has had so many pregnancy scares, and she stopped going to eddie ab it bc he would always try to convince her that he would be such a good husband and father and she just can't deal with that shit. she learns to just keep them to herself bc her period always eventually happens

but this time her period is late and then weeks go by and it's still not there, so she takes a test, and freaks the fuck out when it's positive and she feels like she cannot tell anyone. she is taking the trash out to the dumpster so no one finds it after she's done hyperventilating in the bathroom.

but she's in denial about it for a while, and just convinces herself it was a false negative and that her period is coming. but she's still nervous asf so she pretends to drink or take things but she doesn't actually take them (karen notices but doesn't say anything) (also muse probably did still smoke bc widespread knowledge ab cigarette smoking being harmful for a fetus didn't start until the 80s) but she pretends to take or do other things bc of her nerves.

then it gets to a point where she gets the tiniest baby bump starting to form (she's one of those girlies that starts getting it at 10 weeks) and she can't deny anymore that it's happening. she heavily considers leaving billy and telling eddie and just marrying eddie bc she's so scared of the stigma of being a single mother bc she doesn't think billy will stay with her or if he does then he will not be a husband who actually wants to be with her (cami core I fear 😔) but part of her thinks maybe he would straighten up, it is so many thoughts

and while she's dealing with that stress her and billy are in a bad patch again, it's literally a fight everywhere they go and she cannot explain to him half the stuff she's upset about because it's a result of the pregnancy

him coming into the room with his breakfast and the smell of the bacon making her feel ill, "no, not in here, fuck."

"what, I can't eat in my fucking house inside of my goddamn room, in the place I pay for? just because you have a rich daddy doesn't mean you can control everyone's fucking lives, newsflash."

or when she's been cranky and quiet at the studio all day and now driving back home they're fighting over the radio volume, "I have a goddamn headache billy, please turn it down!"

and at the stoplight he hits his breaks a little harder than intended as well, "you've always got a fucking headache or you're nauseous or you hurt or you're upset. I have to accommodate my whole life around you and you're literally just some groupie I'm fucking, it's ridiculous. and you haven't even sucked me off in weeks but start bitching when someone else is doing it, this is the goddamn real world." she hasn't sucked him off bc she's terrified she'd vomit since recently even brushing her teeth has had her gagging.

when billy finds out all those years later after finally being told he does distinctly remember how after daisy had left without saying anything to him and he's angrily put the sheets back on and was trying to go to bed on his side how muse had come in, laid her head on the top of his arm, didn't even try to get him to adjust like she would if she was trying to cuddle him when he was pissed, she just laid her head there and started bawling.

after a couple seconds of confusion he'd move, "what's going on?" and she doesn't respond right away, and despite being an asshole he still does have caring instincts for her, and is pulling her into his chest, "I got you, baby, what is it?"

but she just cries and cries and cries and eventually he lays down with her and she cries until she falls asleep and he does too. but when she woke up she spent the day more detached and he was so confused, but it's because part of her is so pissed at him wondering that if he hadn't always been so consumed with his fear of committing and fucking up, if they could have a family, if they would be getting ready for that baby right now.

she does have baby dreams for months, ranging from holding a baby or a full grown kid, to nightmares about it, but she always wakes up so upset. also billy always assumed the way she stared at baby clothes in the store or baby toys was bc she wanted one so bad, but deep down it was bc she was thinking about the life she nearly had.

ugh, my pookies 😔

[002yb]

I cried during your whole reply to the late ask. But please consider: Dick can't stand to look at Jaybin bc he feels too guilty and sad and he still thinks its his fault. And little jaybin is sad bc nothing has changed Dick still haces him no matter how much he loves him and Jason goes full mother on him bc a) he gets it, those are his feelings b) its a kid and Jason cant stand to look at a kid sad and c) if no one is looking out for him he might as well do. Damian is very !!!! Bc his position as jasons baby is in danger but also thats Jason as a *baby*. And Jason is just mothering two kids and Dick is taken out at the knees bc Jasons so perfect and protective and omG he wants to cry everytime he sees them. (Bruce is crying ln the corner and staring holes onto them) (Jason confronts Dick about making Jaybin sad and Dick cries)

Im so sorry this is so long but i got thoughts that i wanted to share bc your posts always make me happy<33 hope youre doing good and take it slow and one step at a time<3 love u<3

The angst potential from this angle of the double-Jay!AU, oh dear. It hurts in a different way from this post. But yes, let's explore:

Where Jaybin is so excited to see what's become of the future. He's eager to see how his small family is doing and if it's grown, what all Batman & Robin have achieved - what Jason has accomplished. More than anything, he wants to know that all their efforts have made a difference for Gotham.

Needless to say, Jaybin is left...unmoored, for lack of better words.

Because everything is wrong.

Bruce won't look at him. Dick still avoids him. Gotham is still fucked up. And just - Jaybin is welcome in the mansion, but it doesn't take a detective to realize that future Jason is estranged because everyone hates him, too

And ughhh, Jaybin trying to mend those burned bridges because he's alone and without proper support, but it's like he's a ghost

So, because Jaybin knows that it must be his fault, he singles out Jason. Without really understanding what happened, Jaybin blames himself and tells Jason to fix it.

Because Jaybin wants his dad back. He wants his family.

Jason being blindsided by 'his' upset feelings although they're nothing new. He's sat with them for years. No one understands more than him how fucking bad this grief hurts.

But Jason is Jason and while he feels a compulsion to help, the subject matter strikes him dumb temporarily

So Jaybin grieves because he can't understand what went wrong. Something something, he lashes out and says some cruel things about how they should just die

And that's what Damian overhears and like. This boy does not take kindly to the cruelty.

There's a Damian/Jaybin throwdown that finally snaps Jason back into action. He separates them and sends Damian off with a promise to tend to him later, but for now - Jaybin

With Jason patching Jaybin up. And them having a bit of a heart to heart.

Where Jason hears out everything that's bothering Jaybin and answering as patiently/kindly as he can. Things with Bruce? Can't fix that. Gotham? Work in progress. Bat methods are a joke, so he's trying his own thing.

And Dick?

What about him?

Jaybin kicking out his leg and grumbling about how Dick still hates them. He avoids Jaybin like the plague.

Jason being surprised at that. While it made sense back in Jaybin's timeline (something Jason has begrudgingly come to understand), Dick seems the sort to capitalize on a situation like this. Jaybin is, objectively, darling. And easily teased.

Jason grumbling about how Jaybin must have that crush by this point in time, huh?

Jaybin flustering because what? No. Shut up.

Jason snickering, then getting melancholic and soft. He shrugs and admits nothing comes of it. Better to give it up.

Have you?

It's the biggest call out.

It's not something Jason is dealing with, so he slaps a bandage on Jaybin's face and goes to tend to Damian

Which leads to sleepovers at Jason's flat. Where Damian bristles like a territorial cat because Jaybin is encroaching on Damian's Jason/space/etc. The only reason Damian behaves himself and begrudgingly looks after Jaybin is because Jason requests it of him. Damian definitely isn't happy about it though.

Which leads to a whole other side plot of Damian learning about who Jason was before he grew to be what he is. And Damian recognizing qualities he really loves about Jason in Jaybin, but also the differences. Like how all Jason's jagged edges aren't yet so piercing. Jaded, but not yet wrecked.

And of course Damian falls in love with Jason all over again contemplates his discoveries to Dick. Who is fondly reminiscent because he remembers well and sees it all, too. ;U;

But what's more? Dick recounting stories of the sparse times Jason and he were together. Damian noticing how Dick is so soft and melancholic and regretful.

Which, like - just hang out with him? Jaybin is here. Now's the time to make things right.

Which Dick is adamantly against because he's of the mindset that he'll make things worse. He always does with Jason. And Damian is fully just l: because really, Grayson? Pathetic. He wasn't there before; be there now. If Damian knows anything with any certainty, it's that Dick is unashamedly relentless. Is Damian wrong? )<

More than anyone, Damian knows the importance of Dick just…showing up. So.

Which leads to Dick asking Jaybin to go on patrol with him.

Needless to say, Jaybin, Jason, and Damian are dumbstruck because what

Jason and Damian? Jealous af (though Jason bites his tongue while Damian spits and sputters because he's Robin, damn it). Jaybin though? Starry eyed with the most brilliant of smiles

Commence a lot of Dick and Jaybin bonding as Dick steps up in the way he couldn't before. All while Jason and Damian get all huffy and petulant in the background.

But it's cool because Jaybin invites Dick over for dinner at Jason's one night. Which forces Dick and Jason to spend time together in a domestic capacity. But before that:

Dick being let inside the flat by Jaybin. And Jason peers around the corner to the kitchen because who the fuck?

His eyes going wide because wtf is Dick doing here?

'Whatever it is - it wasn't me.'

Which makes Dick grimace because he's not here on a case, Jaybin invited him

Jason being all wary because that's just how things are at this point. Still, he lets Jaybin have his company. It's fine. It's whatever. Jason was cooking extra anyway.

And yeah, something something Dick watching Jason be a caretaker

Dick minding his own business before Damian kicks him beneath the table and glowers at him because: 'don't get any ideas, Grayson.'

To which Dick is !! because what? No! No, no.

It's just surprising/disarming/sweet, is all. Dick's never seen Jason in this capacity. //3///

And yes. More dinners. Family patrols. Dick being brought more into the loop and Jason begrudgingly allowing Dick into their family unit space. Something something, Dick running errands after work or bringing home food. Everyone going out for some outings. Joint patrols. Just strong family vibes that heal all of them, tbh. ;U;

[kel-lance]

Eyeless Gojo AU: Prequel

Requested off my comment from https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRTa8kfU/

“@Taaot17🍉: Some sorta AU I need where Gojo takes them out as saying he’s leaving what he was born for being behind & now will act only on instinct (& an excuse to always be touching Geto)”

————————————————

———Warnings: mention of death, blood, killing, morally grey, slight mind control, Gojo just reacting to his cptsd in this universe, slight grooming (adults ideals on Gojo and their children), mindbreak, yandere(?)———————-

first year! Gojo who didn’t understand the feelings he was feeling, it wasn’t hate, but he couldn’t stop thinking about his “rival”

that Gojo wanted to be his friend but Geto is more pained in this universe. real angsty teen. 

Gojo being treated like Naruto as a kid, by the other kids, and the adults the opposite.

They loved him, they wanted nothing more to marry their child to him, or in some way praised him like a god.

He had a power, premonitions as well as incomprehensible strength and sorcery. Anyone would be lucky to be something to him.

He could make perfect guesses, his 6 eyes in this au would let him see months in the future, aiding his clan on any assassination, kidnappings, it was just like a built in body guard, or like his own spider senses, except he’d see the moments in time, as random as they may be.

Growing up he hones his skills, training his body to be able to take care of himself (and others) and to also see further int eh future if possible. It didn’t cost him much, just gave him a headache after.

the kids have seen him cry, bleed, just acting like an annoying brat, unlike the great power their parents reminded them they weren’t. (when he was just a kid who wanted friends.)

Geto was further away, Gojo feeling lonelier than ever. The third student, Shoko, would barely show up for classes. There was no reason for her to be there other than to have men ruin her sleep. She’d come by a random day of the week, showing disinterest whenever the attention was placed on her, even to answer a problem on the board. (in this universe she didn’t choose them so they didn’t choose her (but like intensified))

Gojo knew about things happening, but not when, igniting his want to be friends with the multi spirit user. He could see him in his future, for a while… so he wanted to have it already.

Gojo tagging along with Geto whenever he can after classes.

Gojo excited to go on missions with Geto (Geto would rather do it alone but he still spars with Gojo, using his classmate to train himself harder while white hair was just dancing around him.)

2nd year!Gojo’s thinking Geto’s warming up to him when he’s starting to envy and hate on him more. but if you can hate someone its bc u care, and he wouldn’t admit that until he thought he saw once or twice, Gojo’s clown mask fall. 

(this is basically Geto as reverse Gojo who’s like emotionally stunted but in angst instead of fuck boy/class clown disguise. His intense emotions are confused and he still can’t figure out what could be up with his rival bc Gojo lets him win every time.)

Goj’s favorite thing was how Geto never stopped treating Gojo the same as when they met, or rather he never changed himself just bc he gained a friend, someone as special as Gojo.

He saw it in his 6 eyed vision. He was almost running his mental thin by using it so much, trying to see more into the future, seeing more of how He and Geto would take on the world together. He keeps it to himself for now. 

Geto who does start to warm up to Gojo the second half of their second year. Gojo not really knowing how to take it and is so happy

they start to hang out a lot, getting over their weird hate at first phase of their friendship. 

2nd year Gojo realizing he’s so comfortable around Geto that everyone knows if Geto’s somewhere Gojo’s right beside him.

That they’re best friends in a quick amount of time, because Geto would complain about others and teach Gojo what it’s like being a normal kid. 

Geto teaching Gojo to stop relying on his future vision as he was able to break through one of his visions. Gojo was supposed to win, but he stopped his body for a second and got knocked over.

Geto suggests he blindfolds Gojo if he wanted to really use his senses. correctly. He tells him that his power is getting in the way of him being a real person, and Gojo agrees.

Gojo becoming so comfortable and given everything all the time that he places his hands wherever he wants. He didn’t know about personal space since everyone was in his, so he was actually confused when his hug was rejected by Geto for the first time.

Geto scolding Gojo how that’s now how friends act so Gojo asks him how it really is, kind of hurt.

Geto needing to teach Gojo that he can only do that with him as other people would either not like it or like it too much. 

Gojo saying they’re not like Geto. There was nobody else but him.

3rd year them on /their mission/ 1/3 into the school year

Toji coming in and killing Geto, and then Amanai. 

Gojo realizing he didn’t see that happen bc of the no cursed energy. 

He believed he got Geto killed and that stopped him. He let Toji kill Amanai who was scared and hiding behind him. 

He shoots her and stabs Gojo in the neck, he’s trying to cut his head off until Geto comes in with a woman

Toji turns around bc that’s his gf yelling for him, then she stopped.

Geto kills her with a tool, and unleashes his curses on a shocked and unready toji. It was easier to say she was a civilian caught in this mess, and that toji did it.

Geto calling Yaga and Shoko to help put Gojo’s head back together.

After surgery and using her Reversed Curse technique, Gojo’s back but he’s not the same.

he wasn’t smiling all the time, he was expected to be next to Geto the moment his eyes opened, but once everyone saw him wake, all he did was try and turn his head away. 

He stays ignoring ppl for first few weeks as he healed. Geto and him had an argument at some point in-between, trying to understand what was the issue.

It was weird, got had just gotten used to being smothered by his now best friend. He was worried. Of course he had to heal his own injuries but it didn’t leave a stain in his psyche.

turns out that one second where if he were to have save Amanai, Geto would’ve died. its not that he feels any way that two innocent women died, but there was actually a chance Geto could actually not be in his future anymore. 

The fight ends with Geto saying he’s not Gojo because of his power, he can’t let that make the path for him, that he has to stop being  so blind when he knew so much more 

Gojo not understanding what Geto means and goes back into his depression hole. “he knew more, he know better.” Gojo tells himself as he’s always been told what to do, and how to be, and the one person who he’s grown to trust is telling him that his own feelings are wrong, he’ll try harder to be better for Geto.

There goes another week without Gojo, he wasn’t answering his room door, Geto couldn’t feel him there. 

Of course he was worried but there was nothing that could get to him, as Gojo knew what was going to happen. So it must have meant Gojo was safe, or wasn’t needed right now, Geto left it alone.

Geto one day has a feeling that his texts weren’t sending, hopefully his food orders were keeping him full. He decides to pay him a visit today. 

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

A/N: I didn’t proof read but I hope y’all get the idea, I had to make the background first to build off to actually write more.

This is 1/3 of the fics that were requested so far, I’m open to more. (and accepting donations (nami emoji 🤑/I got fired for the protests a bit ago and am hoping to keep my 4 cats comfortable 🙃) Ty for reading 🩵

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