#hi yes i am full of self doubt so here is a thing

[odigaon]

baby

summary: you and your boyfriend decide to start a family together

rating: smut, 18+

characters: optional bias x afab reader

word count: 1,161

warnings: dumbification, oral (female receiving) impreg, unprotected sex

unedited!

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there you were. spread out, dripping, and anticipating what he was going to do next. the thick fog of subspace hazing your brain was preventing any fully coherent thought from forming in your head. it was okay though. you knew that he was there.

for the last hour you had been bent into multiple positions all over your apartment (and outside): the car before you even arrived home, the front door, the couch, and the dining room table before he finally got you into the bedroom. your poor cunt was swollen and tender from cumming so many times, but every touch from him still felt as good as ever.

now he had you here on your shared bed. on your back with your legs spread and knees pushed up to your chest. his face was buried in your pussy, no doubt that his mouth was covered in spit and cum. how many times had you been eaten out tonight? three? four? it feels so good your brain is practically melting out of your ears.

at this point you think he must be doing it for his pleasure and not yours. every swipe of his tongue and suckle from his mouth has you keening and whimpering. words aren’t even being formed but he knows just what you need.

what gets you the most though? his moaning and whining. every time he feels you clench around his tongue makes him want to stop just slide into you and feel it on his cock. when he hears your voice pick up in pitch, he presses your knees further into your chest and avidly continues exactly what he was doing in order to get you your release for the fifth time that night.

you feel the knot in your tummy start to tighten. toes curling and fingers grasping on to the sheets as best you can, you try your best to warn him, but the only thing that can leave your lips are moans and whines.

letting out a loud squeal, your release hits you like a freight train. white hot pleasure radiates from the top of your head to the bottoms of your feet. black spots dot your vision as you try to come down from your high. you feel him pull away from your cunt and sit up slowly. trying to blink away the haze, you do your best to follow him with your eyes.

he massages your thighs and whispers, “are you feeling okay, baby?”

when all you can do is sigh and blink at him he giggles, “silly me. why am i asking you when you’re too fucked out to answer? i’m sorry. my dumb little baby can only think with her pretty pussy right?”

you feel your cheeks flare up. even fucked out, you can tell his tone is the one he uses in times like this: a bit mean but still conveying his love and adoration for you.

“not dumb.” you muster out

“oh so my pretty girl can use her voice! what do you want next baby? no begging. just tell me and i’ll give it to you. but you have to use that pretty voice of yours or i’m gonna have you the way i want,” he says while lightly tracing the outer folds of your pussy.

“cock!”

embarrassing. you meant to form a full sentence, but evidently it’s not in the cards for you tonight.

“aw does my pretty baby want my cock?”

you nod your head frantically

“uh uh uh. words, baby.”

“yes. wan’ your cock please.”

he smiles one of smiles he saves for when you do something especially cute. pushing him self up slightly, he readjusts you both to be a bit more comfortable.

“you ready?”

“mmhm.”

he lines him self up, and slides home. or at least it might as well be home.

the first slide in is always his favorite. the sound you make is a drawn out combination of a moan and a whine. that sounds almost makes him blow every time.

he presses into you further and you think you feel all the air leave your lungs. he’s so deep, you think you feel him in your stomach. every inch deeper is making you lose your mind and before you know it, all train of thought leaves you and you are solely focused on his cock inside you. the loud ground that leaves him sends you over the edge again; tightening up on him and preventing him from moving .

“fuck baby. i love you so fucking much. your cunt was made for me. i wish i could spend the rest of my life inside you, pretty girl.”

god. the things he’s saying.

if that’s one thing you love about him fucking you: he always ends up fucking the both of you dumb.

the slow, deep thrusts leave you clenching and unclenching around him uncontrollably. one small change in the position, putting your knees back up to your chest, leaves him grazing your g spot. now your mouth has become a waterfall of whines and moans, if anyone tried to quiet you right now, you don’t think they could.

you feel him leaning down close to your ear and nuzzling your neck.

“yeah? that feel good baby? god i wanna cum inside you so bad. will you let me?”

all you can do is wrap your arms around his back and sink your nails into his broad shoulders.

“yeah? want me to cum inside? fuck, pretty girl wants me cum inside her and get her pregnant, huh?”

at that, your eyes nearly roll back in your head. pregnant? he always talked about wanting kids, but you didn’t know that he wanted them this bad.

a chorus of “yeses” start leaving your mouth. all you want, all you’ve been thinking about for the past couple months while the both of you had sex was how bad you wanted him to cum in you.

“you’d look so beautiful pregnant.”

it’s the last straw. as you’re cumming again you muster enough effort to reply to him.

“i want them to have your laugh.”

he starts picking up the pace and leans away slightly to look at you clearly. the pretty smile and misty eyes tell you that he loves you.

“I want them to look just like you, baby. your eyes, your smile, your cute little nose. i want them to know how great of a mommy they have.”

your eyes start to tear up. how can this man make you feel like this while still fucking you so good?

whimpering louder, you clench down on him in an effort to keep him inside. you want nothing more than for him to fill you up with his cum and get you pregnant right now in this moment.

his groans and moaning grow in volume as he gets closer to his release.

whispering out a small, “please. fill me up. i want it all. please. i wanna make you a daddy.”

his thrusts start to grow sloppy and he begins thrusting into you without his earlier finesse.

“you want it all? i’ll give it all to you baby. only you.”

with a handful more thrusts, your boyfriend is finishing inside you. his head drops into your neck while he rides out his high, whimpering in your ear. reaching up to run your fingers through his hair, you ask, “you really think i’ll be a pretty mom?”

he chuckles a bit at that, smiling into your skin and giving you a small kiss.

“i said beautiful. not just pretty.”

a soft blush colors your cheeks. he lightly strokes the side of your face while he looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

“you really wanna be parents right now?”

at that he lifts up, gives you small kiss on the forehead, nose, and then lips. he grasps your sides gently and shuffles the both of you around to where your head now lays on his shuddering chest.

“i want nothing more, baby. i’d do or give up anything in order to start a family with you.”

at that, your eyes mist over. god, you really love this man.

“should we start thinking of baby names and nicknames then?”

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thank you so much for taking the time to read! if you liked it, please leave a like and reblog and if you’re feeling extra nice, a comment as well!

if you have any questions or would just like to talk, feel free to drop in my ask box!

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 10 (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

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

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

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

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; extreme feelings of stress and anxiety; feelings of sadness; abandonment issues; allusions to a dark, forgotten childhood; therapy; EMDR therapy; arguing/raising of voices; heart issues (POTs); use of heart monitors; hemoglobin kits mentioned; jealousy; body changes as a result of pregnancy; negative self-talk; baby talk galore; pregnancy hormones (. . .but just wait for part 2 lol); reader continues being sad while she checks Jake out... but now we see jake being sad while he checks reader out lol; mild description of oral sex (m! receiving) (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 27.4k+

a/n: hi, loves :) i am sorry for the wait! won't go into detail, but life is a mf beast rn, and i'm rolling w it the best i can. this is a hobby. and while it does take up the majority of my free time, it is also not my main job! so, please be patient as life isn’t easy!

without further ado, here is chapter 10, pt 1... you will get pt 2 tomorrow - it is all set and ready to upload, but i must let the anticipation rise after pt 1. ;)

part 1 includes a hell-ton of stuff that i've been waiting to write - and been waiting for you to read! eek! this chapter is the beginning of a ~new chapter~ in everyone's lives... so, strap in <3 things are about to get real interesting......

as usual, thank you to my lovely sister @joshym for being my encourager and for aiding in expanding on ideas when i feel stuck as hell lol i love you more than words can properly articulate <3

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

Covet Masterlist

-🌼🌼🌼-

"Conscience and covetousness are never to be reconciled; like fire and water they always destroy each other, according to the predominancy of the element."

-Jeremy Collier

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 17, 2022

After several moments of standing there, you started to feel very naked under Jake’s stare. 

The realization that you were still butt-fucking-naked under your towel had you wanting to escape the entire situation. It added one more reason why you wanted to hide in your room for all of eternity.

You didn’t know how to process what had just happened. . . All you knew was that any idea of a nice talk where you revealed the truth to him. . . Was gone. 

He knew now. And you were freaking the fuck out. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Jake’s POV

There was no doubting her. Not for a single second. The baby was mine and I’d known it in my heart before I asked. 

I really just wanted to hear her say it. 

During our time together, just like she’d been it for me, I knew in my heart that I’d been it for her. I’d known her, backwards and forwards. And, within that time that I knew her so well, we’d become close. So close that, without meaning to make it—us— more, we’d made it more. 

I gave her a better look, not able to put into words what the fuck I was feeling. Let my eyes trail down her body, covered only by a towel. 

She adjusted her towel, tighter around her body. Was she self conscious? She shouldn’t have been. She was always beautiful. And I was afraid pregnancy was only going to enhance her beauty. . . I noticed as she tightened her towel, the action made her full breasts spill even more from the top of the towel. I averted my eyes, willing my dick to not react. Instead, I trained my eyes below, on her belly. 

And now that I knew, I could see. Even through the fluffiness of the towel, I could see a certain roundness to her belly that had never been there before. A full-blown bump. Still small by some standards, but big enough that I should have fucking noticed. 

Not able to help it, my eyes scanned her heaving chest, the tops of her tits fully exposed above the towel. It made so much sense why I’d noticed them looking bigger. . . Because they were bigger. Growing. Every day. To nourish our baby. 

Our baby.

I looked away from her. . . I couldn’t look at her right now. Not when she— when I. . . God.

How had I been so oblivious?! I lived with her for Christ’s sake. Was it my fault that I hadn’t allowed myself to be more present in her life? Was it because I was seeing Maya now? God. No. It wasn’t on me to watch for things like that anymore. Not since she’d told me that I’d served my purpose. That I was just convenient. . . And all of the other hateful shit she’d spit in my face that day in the kitchen. 

The day my heart fucking broke after pounding in my chest. . . Pleading with her to help me understand all of it. But she hadn't fucking stopped . . . Just kept going. Breaking me. Saying things I never, in a million years, ever wanted to hear from her. 

I’d let her become more in my life. I thought it was meant to last. Thought that she had become my someone. More than relationship. More than friends. She had just . . . Been there. She’d nestled into a place made just for her in my heart. Like she was supposed to have been there all along. 

I’d never wanted her to leave. But she’d wanted to. She’d put her foot down, not leaving any goddamn room for argument. 

And my heart. . . Fucking broken after beating the hardest it ever had in my chest. . . Shattered into an infinite number of tiny shards at my feet. I’d spent days picking up the shreds, my hands getting cut every time I tried to fix in me what she’d torn apart. There was a part of me that knew exactly why she’d done it. I fucking knew. Knew that she didn’t think she deserved happiness or some shit. But there was no use in entertaining what I knew when she refused to acknowledge the truth. 

The night we’d smoked and I’d told her that I— and then she’d told me that she— Jesus. The moment had been so real, so solid. . . The words had fallen from my lips without any hint of question. Even being under the influence, I felt the connection we’d made in that moment. I thought about the words everyday for weeks after I’d left the kitchen on that hellish day. 

Then there was the transcendental sex we’d had when we made it into her room that night. She’d been so wet, waiting for me. . . Fuck it all. Wait— not— no. The night we’d smoked. . . We hadn’t used protection. Was that when—?

The inside of my brain was just going fucking insane and I couldn’t— goddammit!

I ran a hand through my hair a couple of times, the other one still holding my keys. I  needed to do something with both of my hands. Besides balling them into fists and creating divets in one palm with my fingertips and the other with my keys.

I was tired of just standing there, in front of this woman I’d fallen for at a time when I thought I’d never wanted to love again. . . The same woman who’d shattered me. And, now, the very same woman who was carrying my child. . . 

There was no use in trying to organize any thoughts. Pacing seemed to be the only option. So, back and forth, back and forth, I walked in about a foot of space. Just waded in these uncharted fucking waters. All I knew at this moment was she was pregnant. And she’d lied to me about it. 

How long had she—? How far along was—?

And why in the hell had Josh known before me?! Of all fucking people . . . Fuck! 

“Jake,” her voice tore through the catastrophic mess of shit in my head. 

I didn’t look at her. How could I? When she’d left me in the dark. Once again, prioritized Josh over me. Even when it came to my child. Absolutely fucking incredible.

“Jake, please,” she muttered, voice cracking on the word please. My heart couldn’t handle the sound. “I can’t— I’m not in the right state of mind to just stand here and—.” I stopped pacing and peered up at her finally, my hair surely a mess around my hot face when I let my eyes pierce hers. 

But as soon as I made eye contact with her, I softened. I hated to see her cry. Hated it. And the sobs suddenly wracking her were unexpected. It hurt my heart to stand there and watch her like that. 

But— she’d brought this on herself. Right?! Fuck. 

As much as I wanted to walk to her and hug her, I didn’t. I stayed where I was, offering a half-assed look of pity. It wasn’t her turn to hurt over this. I was the one just finding out. Not her.

“Y/n,” I tried, weakly. But god it sucked to say her name right now. “Just— god. There are so many—.”

“Questions, I know,” she finished, walking a couple hesitant steps toward me. But I took two back, away from her. 

The way her body slacked at my action made me want to take it back. There were a lot of things I wanted to do. Some understandable, some not so much. I wanted to cry. Kiss her. Hug her. Feel her. Help her. Scream at her. 

But, she was right. I did have so many fucking questions. 

“How long?” I asked, breath shallow, never letting my eyes leave hers. 

She kept up, not looking away from me. “How long have I known? Or how long have I been—?”

“Both.”

“I—,” she stuttered, closing her eyes tight, her beautiful face contorted in what I could only assume was emotional turmoil. 

I watched as she balled her fists, clenching them a few times. Then, as she released them, she seemed to plant her feet firmly on the floor— her body, rigid and straight. 

When she opened her eyes and found mine again, I could clearly see the tears that had accumulated on her lashes. And her eyes, that would forever take my breath away, were daring to shed more of them.

“Don’t cry,” I couldn’t help but calmly reassure her, my voice soft as I went to stand closer to her again. Not close. Just— closer. “Just. . . keep going. Talk me through it. Talk us through it.” 

She breathed deeply, in and out, once. I strained to not let my eyes fall to her chest— to admire the way her fuller breasts would rise and fall. . . I resisted, focusing on her eyes. Her face, rivaling all gods of beauty. . . 

After taking one more calming breath, she began. “I’m three months along,” she paused momentarily, as if thinking of something. “Three months today, actually.”

Three months.

“And how long have you known?”

“I’ve known for about a month,” she responded, bringing her shoulders higher and sniffling once. She blinked once, tightening her fists once more. “That’s not to say I told anyone right away. I kept it to myself. I was scared. I didn’t know what the fuck to do.”

I let her words sit in the air for a few minutes, thought them through at least five times before I couldn’t keep the next question to myself any longer. 

“When did Josh find out?” 

Her jaw flexed as her fists bunched up; eyebrows, drawn together as she glanced down briefly, her eyes snapping back to mine. “Why the fuck is that important right now?”

Oh, she wanted to get angry? Okay.

“Seriously?” I said, my tone sharp as I pointed a finger at her. “You telling my brother about my baby before me is pretty fucking disheartening. Especially when I — fuck. You know why it’s important.”

“I’m sorry. . . I’m stuck on something you said. . . When you called it your baby,” she leveled, stepping toward me once. I didn’t move, only stood taller and sighed deeply, nostrils flared. “Please, tell me more. About how you’re the one who had to find out all by herself. And if you’re the one who had to find out all by herself, you’re probably also the one who’s going to have to stretch her body out to carry this baby for the next six months,” her voice rose with every word she spoke. She sighed, a smile shaking on her lips, yet lacking any positive emotion. “I must’ve fucking forgotten.”

All I could do was stare at her; because, in spite of all of that truth, I was still angry with her. She’d twisted my words. She knew what I fucking meant. 

She just wanted an opportunity to pin something on me in her moment of insecurity. 

It was definitely something she would do in a state of upset. Hell, it was something I would do. Without a thought. I was known for it. Could I be upset with her for doing the same thing? Dammit. I just felt conflicted as hell — didn’t know how to feel about it all. 

I was happy. Really. Truly. Completely over the moon ecstatic at getting to be a father. I just— I couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea of it. All of the information, the reality of my life. . . It wasn’t sinking in worth shit. Though, at the same time, it felt so incredibly real. 

On the same hand, I also felt completely betrayed to not know a damned thing until this moment. It was fine that she waited to tell me. No question about that. But telling Josh before me still pissed me the fuck off. . . And it would until she understood why it made me so angry. 

She’d confided in him about the baby I helped her make. When she hadn’t even told me. Probably hadn’t even been planning on telling me anytime fucking soon. Because of her determination to keep me out of the loop when it came to our child, I’d had to find out on my own. By accident. 

All because I was a motherfucking identical twin. What were the chances of that shit?

I didn’t get to have a moment of joy at the thought of being a father because I was too busy reading how grateful she was for Josh amidst this pregnancy. All I could think about was how she hadn’t been grateful for me. Hadn’t been grateful enough to keep me in her life. 

She’d pushed me out. But not Josh. Definitely not Josh. She would never say to Josh what she said to me in the kitchen.

I couldn’t take it.

Unable to control my actions, I started acting before thinking. . . Not even looking at her, I focused only on the keys in my hand, still waiting for me to go somewhere. I had to go somewhere. Had to get the fuck out of the apartment that had brought me both my greatest days and my most heartbreaking. 

And this day was officially both.

Pulling the door open without even thinking about it, seeing through blurred tunnel vision, I heard her say my name, once again choking on sobs behind me. Even after I closed the door, she continued to wail my name. 

My heart was longing to stay back with her. Begging me to stay where I knew I needed to. The guilt was heavy. Baby or not, my heart yearned for the woman. Even when I shouldn’t want her, I did. And I really shouldn’t after what she’d said in the kitchen.

I knew it was a dick move to leave. I knew it. But I had to. Couldn’t explain it. So, with blurred vision and hearing her repeat my name and begging me not to leave, I continued down the cemented, outdoor hallway and to the stairs. 

End of Jake’s POV

-🌼🌼🌼-

Gone. Found out about it and then he was just. . . gone. 

You stood there long enough to let him walk back through the door. Until he might’ve come back, ready to make things right.

You waited too long. But when you started getting a chill from standing there in your towel, you were suddenly ready to put some clothes on. Ready to hide. Maybe Jake had the right idea to run away.

In the case he didn’t come back tonight, you didn’t want to be waiting for him all night, getting your hopes up. . . only to have them crushed.

Your heart was already burning in your chest, all the way down to the pit of your stomach, at the worry of him not returning.

-🌼🌼🌼-

You firmly decided on leaving for a bit. Follow his lead. You went about your business to get your ass out of your home before it swallowed you whole in your fears and worries of Jake.

But. . . driving sounded stupid as hell. You wouldn’t have been able to see past the clouds of tears in your eyes to safely arrive at your destination. And, as sad as you were, you weren’t sad enough to want to wreck your car. The baby’s life was the first you considered. But–then. . . you realized you had a burning desire to keep going for you, too. . . despite Jake leaving, you wanted to keep going. The sadness hadn’t completely overtaken you.

So, you’d wisely decided to schedule an Uber. And while you waited, you hastily pulled your cute gray sweatsuit (thank you, TikTok shop) onto your body as quickly as you could, making sure to put on a sports bra underneath to hold your boobs in place. They continued to hurt like hell. You really needed to get a maternity bra.

And then, after you’d fed Stevie, you waited for the Uber and prayed that it would show up before Jake got back home. 

Well. . .if he came back home tonight. It was very bold of you to just assume he would. Why would he want to return? Your own mother left you because you weren’t worth anything. And tonight, Jake had made it perfectly clear he felt the same way your mom had.

The Uber showed up in no time. . .sooner than you’d scheduled for it to arrive. 

As the black Toyota Solara finally came into view, you wiped your tears for the millionth time since Jake had left. The sobs that wracked your chest hadn’t stopped painting your cheeks since he’d walked out the door. Because, well, he had left you. The one person you wanted with you for this had left when you needed him most.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Applebee’s. The sign to the restaurant had you feeling the urge to do happy dance, even amidst your raging emotions. But you concealed it for the sake of your Uber driver.

For the past few days, you’d been craving their alfredo specifically. The fear of ruining it like you’d ruined so many other foods, had kept you from DoorDashing it. 

But tonight? Tonight you’d decided to treat yourself, and instead of being scared that you’d throw it all up, you took the chance. Thus, scheduling the Uber to drive you to fucking Applebee’s. Of all places.

You’d been sitting for probably five minutes at a booth (comfortably, but definitely lonely), when the rain started pouring down outside your booth’s window. 

And at approximately the same time, you noticed the large group of men around your age at the bar, backwards baseball caps and muscles presumably only huge from steroids. They were screaming at the top of their lungs as a football game droned on on the TV in front of them.

The rain, the jocks. . . made you long for your bed immediately. . . Made you wish you would have just stayed home to wallow for the sole opportunity of letting the thunder lull you to a (much needed) restful sleep. Though, based on the night’s events, you weren’t sure how peaceful that slumber would actually be. Or how quickly it would come.

Thankfully, the prospect of going home came as soon as you started longing for it. The young waitress came by to ask for your drink order, but you went ahead and ordered the alfredo you’d been craving – along with the soft pretzels and cheese which automatically stood out to you when you’d opened the menu. 

Now all you were hoping was that you wouldn’t end up vomiting your guts up over your toilet later. Or worse, all over an Uber driver. You were taking a chance. This was the first time you’d eaten out since starting your new journey of eating and nausea meds. 

Speaking of, you promptly popped a PregEase in your mouth, directly from the stash in your belt bag slung across your chest.

You were thankful for the meds, but at the moment, you were actually totally fine with risking it. The one reason being: food was working as a pretty fantastic distraction from your problems for the time being. So. . . you were letting it do its job.

When the waitress brought your water out to you, your phone started buzzing and ringing in your belt bag, succeeding in interrupting you thanking her. The reverberations felt so good against your boobs (don’t fucking judge); at this point, you were convinced your chest was bound to feel like two heavy bags of tiny nails, for the rest of your life. Nothing brought them relief, and the phone felt surprisingly nice.

She kindly smiled, bringing your attention back to her from your boobs, saying she'd be back soon with your appetizer. You responded with a similar smile to hers and went about balancing all of the shit in your belt bag to get your phone out. 

You figured it was probably Elsie. She was the one most likely to be calling you at this time of night. She was known for using the late hour to openly vent to you about her day. Though, since Josh, the calls had become fewer and fewer. 

Finally getting the phone out and peeking at the screen, you were suddenly wishing it was Elsie. Because, the name staring back at you was making your tummy feel like swirling electricity. 

The process of getting your phone out had taken long enough, though, that you’d missed the call completely. You weren’t sure if it was a bullet dodged or a missed opportunity you were instantaneously longing to happen again.

You didn’t have to contemplate it for too long before his name was lighting up your screen again. And it was admittedly weird seeing his name with your current lockscreen wallpaper. . . A couple days ago, you’d impulsively taken a picture of the sonogram picture from your first appointment and made it your wallpaper. 

What if you’d accidentally left your phone where he could find it? Damn. Were you wanting him to find out on his own? Was that going to be your pussy ass way of telling him? Or were you just being impulsive and dumb?

Once again, the call went to voicemail. Except, there wasn’t time for him to leave one with how quickly he was calling you back.

Goddamn, y/n. Answer, your inner encourager forced you impatiently.

Swallowing thickly, you went to slide your finger over to answer. Your body was swimming with an increasing amount of anxiety. But, you answered it.

“Hello?” You spoke faintly, your belly flip flopping. 

He’s probably calling to say he’s packing his shit and moving out.

“Where are you?!” He asked, his voice ragged and worried. Uneven with what could only be fear. “I got home and you weren’t here and I’m freaking the fuck out. Are you okay? Are you safe? Are you with someone?”

Wait. What? Why was he scared?

For some reason, you wanted to be obtuse and not answer his questions. Apparently you were just feeling like an asshole tonight. You didn’t know. You were just tired as hell and didn’t know how to approach him. You wanted to tell him. But, you didn’t.

“I’m fine. I’m just not home.”

“Y/n. Fucking duh. I just told you I’m here,” he replied, impatient but still concerned. “Where are you?”

“What if I don’t want to tell you?” Lie.

He sighed. You could imagine him running a hand across his forehead. His eyes were most likely closed, out of patience. Damn. You’d gotten real used to stressing him out if you could guess the motions.

“Then don’t, I guess,” he relented, voice tense and irritated. “Can you just let me know you’re safe?”

As if on cue, the guys at the bar went ballistic. It made you tense up and roll your eyes at the disruption they were causing to the entire restaurant. But, specifically how they were shouting in the middle of you talking to Jake.  

“Are you at a party?” He gaped, sounding utterly shocked.

Yet again, the men started screaming at the top of their lungs, proceeding to yell a variation of the words Yes! and go-go-go-go!, plus a bunch of other shit you couldn’t understand.

You couldn’t help the growl that came from your mouth, your eyes slowly closing in annoyance. “No, Jacob. Do you really think I’d be at a party?”

“Jesus, sorry,” he apologized. He let out a deep sigh, causing the speaker to rattle a little into your ear. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m worried about you.”

Worried about–? What?

Lay off of him, y/n. You were crying buckets before you left home because you wanted him so badly. Come on. You know he is not the cause of the football fuckers going ham. Don’t take it out on him.

You let out a giant sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Tried to tune out the men to your left. Because Jake. Jake was on the phone. And it didn’t take rocket science to know that you really wanted to see him. Quite frankly, you felt the need to see him. 

But. . .did he want to see you? Or was he just being kind? Only worried about you because he was a decent human being? With no underlying, deeper meaning other than you being pregnant and alone? Did it make you weak if you told him where you were? 

Who cares? Just tell him.

“I’m at Applebee’s,” you sighed, rubbing your forehead before placing the same hand over your round belly to trace shapes against it. 

“Are you with someone?” He asked, tone smooth with a slight edge behind it.

“No, Jake,” you grumbled. Why did he care?

“Do you want me there?” He questioned apprehensively, sounding like it was what he wanted.

But why? He’d left you.

“Do you want to be here?”

“Yes–well,” he paused. “Only if you want me there.”

“Do you think I want you here?”

Why the game of 20 Questions, y/n? His night has already been hard enough.

You knew why. You were avoiding the impending confrontation of seeing him again. Just as much as you did want to see him, you were putting it off because you were nervous. There was no telling what would be said. Would he leave again? Would he say he didn’t want to be in the child’s life? Did it even matter?

“Yes,” he softly responded, waiting for you to confirm or deny.

He was right. And he’d unintentionally answered both of your questions. Yes, it mattered and yes, you wanted him here.

So, after telling him which Applebee’s you were at, he told you he’d be there soon and to stay put before he hung up. The sloppy jocks suddenly started cheering again, clapping each other’s backs. Though, in spite of them, you couldn’t help the quiet smile that swept over your lips.

He was coming for you.

-🌼🌼🌼-

There were about ten minutes between your apartment and Applebee’s, so you waited. 

Just ten minutes. But time crawled.

You were equal parts excited and terrified to see him. The only plausible solution to ease you while you waited, was to watch the door. Your brain was tripping over questions and curiosities all based around him, but just like you’d tried to do all night, you ignored them. Just watched. the. door. 

In reality, you really didn’t have much time to think about a whole lot before Jake was walking through the doors.  Not wearing a rain jacket (or a jacket of any sort) to cover him from the rain. . . which meant he was soaking. wet.

And oh no no no no. . . seeing him like that was not good for your baby hormones. Fuck. Why hadn’t he grabbed one before he left the apartment?!

He was going to catch a cold.

To be totally truthful, you were quite happy he hadn’t put one on. . . Reason being, you could see every single droplet that dripped from his hair. . .that touched his skin. You watched each one fall from the long strands of his wavy locks. Some dripped one-by-one, down the thick column of his neck. And others, directly to the tanned skin of his chest. . . Some even trailing to a hidden place underneath his shirt. . .

He was wearing a light blue button down, the material completely stained from the heavy, unrelenting downpour. You wanted to just peel it off of him–take care of him. You wanted to remove each piece of clothing, carefully dry every part of his body. . .

Not even meaning to, you caught yourself biting your lower lip before soothing it with a lick of your lips. . . 

Okay, y/n. Biting and licking your lips? Seriously?! Stop.

You turned around, pinching your eyes shut. Honestly, ogling over him in this very public space was not ideal. Shouldn’t have been ogling him at all. He wasn’t yours. But dammit your body couldn’t help but heat in his presence. 

Though, the atmosphere of the restaurant did not match your mood at all. In addition to the hoard of men with their beer, the place had become busier – bustling with groups of women and men alike. 

The football guys were still the worst part. You were getting sick of them–on your last nerve.

The continuous hooting and hollering that emitted from the men was obnoxious at best. Stereotypical men. In their natural habitat. They hadn’t stopped acting like heathens during the game and whooped loudly at every Republican ad that played during the commercial breaks. . . Beer bottles repeatedly clanged against each other. You were coming to realize there was zero chance of them quieting down. 

And suddenly it dawned on you that the idea of having to talk to Jake in an Applebee’s, during a (presumably important) football game, sounded dreadful. Having white college men as background noise was the last thing you wanted.

You looked back over towards the door, anxious to set eyes on a real man. Only to find he was finally making his way to you. His shoulders, broad, but shaking and shivering. He kept his arms tightly at his sides, hands in pockets and arms flexing with the shivers, beneath the thin material of his button down. 

You didn’t look too long, though. . . Turned back around — didn’t want to stare long enough for him to catch you. You shook your thoughts away. And for the first time since you’d sat down, the young, drunken men were slightly welcomed as they helped to keep you nailed down to the present with their ludicrous screams. 

Before you knew it, his body came into your view, walking down the small aisle to your table. God, he was handsome. Even with flushed cheeks and wet hair sticking to his face, he was beautiful. 

When Jake finally slid into the booth, he was still shaking off his chill. He cupped his hands around his mouth and breathed harshly into them before clapping and rubbing them together under the table. You knew you were in a daze watching him and you’d stay that way if you didn’t try to speak soon.

“Are you trying to catch a fucking cold?” You hastily questioned him, raising your eyebrow for emphasis. 

He stilled momentarily, setting a steady glare your way. “I rushed here. I didn’t think about grabbing one before just focusing on getting here.”

“Why the rush? You knew I was safe.”

“I was anxious to see you.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. So anxious to not grab a cover for this rainstorm? Why? 

“But you’re the one who left me,” you responded hesitantly after taking a minute to consider his words.

Suddenly, he stopped shaking. He cast his eyes down, sweeping over the table as he chewed at the inside of his cheek. 

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he muttered before glancing up at you with eyes that read regret. “It was not the right decision. I know that and I’m so sorry. But I was just feeling a shit ton of emotions and I— I didn’t know what else—.”

“To do. I know,” you finished for him, nodding along to remind him he’d already mentioned that. “That’s not a valid excuse.”

He looked about ready to agree, but then his brows wrinkled and he tilted his head. He looked unsure. “I’m not sure if it’s valid or not, but it’s definitely not an excuse. I quite honestly didn’t know how the fuck to react, so that’s how I chose to feel it. Just needed to leave and refresh by—.”

“By fucking Maya?” You bit back.

What–?

Shit. Where the hell did those words come from? You hadn’t even. . . fuckfuckfuck. Nothing like fully exposing feelings you harbored.

“Excuse me?” He clipped back, voice alternating to a deeper tone. Aggravated. 

You stuttered out a reply the best you could. “I–I was– I didn’t mean to–,” you bowed your head, ashamed of yourself. “I don’t know where that came from. I’m sorry.”

Really, you were very sorry. It was uncalled for. 

His response was unexpected. “Don’t be sorry,” he softly said, sighing. Your eyes drew up, waiting to hear what else he had to say. You were not expecting him to reassure you. If you were in his shoes, you’d be appalled. He was rubbing his forehead when he tiredly responded, “Emotions are high right now.”

“Yeah, I guess. Except. . . I don’t really have a reason to be a bitch because I’ve already dealt with this,” you explained, motioning to your belly at the word this. “I’ve accepted it and I need to just. . . calm down.”

He snorted a laugh, brushing the tip of his nose with his pointer finger. The black hair-tie wrapped around his middle finger flashed into view. “Y/n, honey,” he started. But–you were slightly incoherent. Honey? What the fu–? “You’ve always been emotional. In all situations. No matter what,” he blew out a breath, a shiver running up his spine. He was drying off, slowly but surely. “I, of all people, would know.”

That last bit distracted you momentarily from him calling you a pet name. A sweet one at that. But. . . you weren’t focused on that. Rather, you were reeling at the fact that he’d just essentially made mention of the fact that he was the victim of you exposing your raw emotional state.

All you could think about— as you saw a glimpse of hurt flash over his brown eyes, him no doubt thinking of the same thing—was the kitchen. That blessed day in the kitchen where you’d gone full blast on him.

Avert avert avert.

You coughed, trying your best to clear the air. “I know it was probably necessary for you to go—leave. . . To think somewhere else, but . . . it did just suck for you to leave,” you admitted shyly. “It wasn’t an ideal time to be alone. Although. . .,” you sighed, watching his face as he concentrated on you. “I guess I brought it on myself. I should have told you sooner.”

“I am curious. . . Why didn’t you?”

“Because I was afraid of that happening,” you truly stated, waving your hand towards him. “I was afraid of you . . . leaving or something that would hurt like hell. . .”

He nodded, pursing his lips as he considered it. “I understand that,” he caught your eyes, his own, soft. Then, suddenly vulnerable. “But. . . wouldn’t it have been easier to tell me first? And wasn’t it maybe more daunting to tell Josh? I mean you had to tell him about–,” he motioned between you two. You couldn’t help the blush that painted your cheeks. Then, he looked curious, brow quirked. “Wait. . . does he even know that it’s mine?”

“Yes, he does,” you confirmed with a barely-there grin. 

He looked like he wanted to ask you something else, but ended up shaking his head and looking down at his lap, his hands moving to twiddle beneath the table before he did. 

“You’re partially right. It would have made more sense to tell you first,” you agreed partially with his earlier statement, watching him. “But I’m not sure it would have been easier. . . there are factors in the way–between us. . . people that don’t deserve to have their lives changed.”

When he looked up from where he’d been watching his hands move, his eyes met yours. You shared a look, and you knew he understood why it would have been difficult. He knew the people–the person–you were referring to. 

“I see your point. But. . .,” he cleared his throat. “It’s just me. No matter what’s changed between us. . . I’m still me. And this particular situation only concerns you, me, and the baby. No one else,” he clarified. “So, just because she’s in the picture now. . . it doesn’t mean you need to keep things from me.”

She's in the picture now. . . Stupidly, those words broke your heart.

The waitress was suddenly at the table with your food. All of it. Pretzel sticks, cheese, and your main course. She set your order on the table, but you knew you didn’t want to be here much longer. Not when you heard the hollering begin again towards the bar. You were also growing increasingly more tired by the second. 

“Can I get the alfredo to go?” You asked hopefully. 

“Sure! You want me to bring boxes for the rest, too?” Her large gray eyes were wide and bright with her seemingly innocent youth. “Just in case.”

“Yeah,” you grinned, leaning your arms on the table. “Sounds good. Thanks.”

She had nodded and was beginning to walk off when she noticed Jake sitting with you. When she saw him, her eyes bugged out and she stopped in her tracks before continuing any further.

“Wait–,” she started, her brow lifting. “Are you. . . in a band?”

His eyes darted to yours and then back to hers before he answered with a wide grin. “Yeah, actually,” he replied. “I am. It’s called–.”

“I know what it’s called!” She shrieked, her face lighting up instantaneously. “My friends and I love you guys. We’ve been to a few of your shows. We even saw you at the festival and got your demo CD! We went just for you guys,” she gushed, not pausing for more than a second. “I was so excited when I started to see your posters all over,” she rushed out, squealing a little. “We’re so excited for your shows coming up!”

His grin loosened, his cheeks flushing along with hers. “Well, thanks for coming to see us when we play,” he softly responded. “We have some other music being released soon. With a label,” he winked, glancing your way. You blushed, too, for whatever reason. What was happening in front of you? “Be on the lookout.”

The waitress’s smile took up her entire face. “Oh, we will!” She nodded enthusiastically, watching him closely for a few seconds longer than necessary. “I have to tell you. . . you’re so much hotter up close. I mean, from far away, hell yes. But right here? Oh my god.”

You decided you were definitely ready to leave. 

The guys at the bar began exploding at the football game just then, the rain was still pattering against the window, tempting you. . . and then there was the apparent fangirl who did not want to leave. . . your eyes flickered to Jake’s. He’d been watching you, waiting for a sign.

“Do you mind grabbing those boxes?” He asked politely, his smile a bit more forced now. 

And he didn’t even have to ask twice before she was nodding excitedly and racing off to get him what he wanted. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Thanks to Jake intervening and then quickly getting your food in the boxes for you, you were in his car within fifteen minutes. He’d effectively taken over the bill and paid for you, and had run to grab his car while he made you wait at the door. 

“You don’t need to be getting sick,” he’d explained, right before he covered the front of his face, beeping his car unlocked, and running to pull it up.

Your heart fluttered in your chest at the way he was tending to you. 

But before you could feel too giddy about it, you felt weird about it. You didn’t want him to suddenly like you again just because you were carrying his baby. He didn’t need to go above and beyond—you didn’t want him to feel obligated to do anything. So, as soon as he’d pulled his Jeep up (and helped you up and inside of it, effectively getting himself soaked again), you got in and waited for him to get in.

As you sat, it encouraged you even more because he’d even gone the extra mile and turned on the seat heaters. He was doing too much when he didn’t need to.

He’d started driving as soon you got in, and you tried damn hard not to watch him drive. Because, you’d just learned, that for some asinine reason, your fucking baby hormones went into overdrive when you’d tried watching a soaking wet Jake behind the wheel of his car. The way he leaned back, relaxed, one arm resting on the console between you two. . .

So, in order to distract yourself, you brought up your winding trail of thought. 

“Please don’t start caring about me again just because I’m carrying your baby.”

You heard him scoff under his breath, the sound alone making your heartbeat quicken as you waited for his response. 

“Start caring about you again? What does that even—?” 

Crossing your arms under your (always sore) boobs, you sat up straighter in your seat to keep some sort of dignity as you further explained. “Jake, you’ve been distancing yourself from me for months now—and for good reason, mind you—I just don’t want you to start doing nice things just because of this situation,” you sighed, deciding to instead lace your hands across your stomach. Training your eyes on your thumbs that tapped your sweatshirt, you continued. “I don’t need you overextending yourself on my behalf.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, and next time you looked up, you were already at the second to last light to the complex. Biting your lip, you contemplated what to say to break the heavy air in the car. . . you always hated when you felt like you’d said something wrong. And you knew you were very good at saying the wrong thing. 

So, you decided on an apology. “I’m sorry if something I said was wrong,” you offered, pitifully. It had been a long night. There was no way you wanted to end it with him mad at you. “Really. I just—.”

“You’re overthinking, y/n,” he promptly cut you off, making a turn to the last light. “I never stopped— I didn’t stop caring about you when we stopped—,” he blew out a breath, stopping at the red light. 

“I’m sorry I said tha—.”

“No. Don’t be sorry. You’re right; I have been distant. And, again, you were right when you said it's for good reason. It’s been for damn good fucking reason,” he clipped, letting the words sit in the air for a minute. “But just because I’m not talking to you or falling asleep next to you—.” He coughed. You could imagine he was shaking his head. “It doesn’t mean I don’t still want what’s best for you. Hence why I’m the one who initiated the therapy conversation. I kept my end of the deal and researched for you because I care.”

Your insides had officially turned to mush and you weren’t sure how to process that he still cared so deeply. But, he was right. . . Him bringing up the therapy showed his heart. . . You knew his heart. Knew how deeply he felt things. . . What you would continue to wonder was why you were something he hadn’t stopped caring about. When you’d been such a massive bitch. You weren’t worth it.

Heart beating quickly in your chest, you cleared your throat as he once again passed through a green light. The last one. You were almost home. 

Gotta wrap it up quickly.

“I’m sorry again,” you muttered. “For not telling you sooner.”

“Don’t be. It was your call to tell who you wanted first,” he sighed, turning on his right blinker to turn into the complex. “I just need to get out of my head about it—need to not let it piss me off.”

You looked out the windshield, the rain had let up. It was only sprinkling now. Taking a deep breath, you admitted to him what you knew to be true. “I really should have told you before Josh. I know that.”

Glimpsing for a millisecond from the corner of your eye, you saw his lip quirk before he looked your way at the perfect moment. Your eyes met briefly before you turned back to observe the parking lot through your window.

“Really?” He questioned warily. “Do you mean that or are you just saying it to make me feel better? Because you don’t have to do that just because I’m being a pussy abou–.”

The snort-laugh that came from you was unintentional, but you couldn’t contain it. “Jake. You aren’t being a pussy.” You turned your head to get a better look at his face now that he’d parked. His eyes waited for yours, highlighted by the fluorescent light he’d parked underneath. Right next to your Jetta. Smiling, you surely stated, “And, yes, I mean it. Truly. I know it would’ve been the right thing for me to tell you first.” 

Considering the car was still running and in park. . .it seemed he wasn’t anxious to get inside. He was content like this. . . at least that’s what you gathered from the way he’d swiveled his body to face you better from his seat. So, you continued on with honesty, while you felt brave. “I was just really scared. Scared to tell you and learn how you’d react. . . I didn’t want to disappoint you with something you really do not need to be responsible for . . .”

Then, the unthinkable happened and he was reaching over to hold your hand over the console. It was a feeling unlike any other–the feeling of his skin against yours. The comfort of his hand, the warmth, the callouses that scratched your flesh the slightest bit as he rubbed the top of your hand with his thumb. How long had it been since he’d touched you?

His voice and the squeeze he gave your hand brought you out of your daze. “Y/n. . . look at me.” You did as he said, following his soft, gravelly tone, finding his eyes with your own. “I am the furthest thing from disappointed.”

“But–,” you shook your head, your brow wrinkled as you searched his eyes. “But the way you left. How angry you were because I hadn’t told you yet–or–or before Josh. . .”

“There’s a difference between feeling plain old upsetedness and full on disappointment,” he clarified, his eyes swimming in yours. His strong hand lightly held yours, squeezing once more. “I assure you, I was never once disappointed tonight that you are having my baby.”

. . .having my baby. The words bounced around in your head. . . hearing him say those words just. . . did something to your heart.

“I’m excited about all of it. Honestly.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners with how his eyes lit up at the sentiment. “I mean, it was a lot to wrap my mind around and I still haven’t totally grasped the reality yet, but. . . I’m happy. Very happy,” he squeezed once more, still not moving his hand from wrapping the top of yours. “And I really hope you let me take responsibility as the father of the baby, because I really want to know this child. . . already matters so much to me.”

Your heart clenched at his words. . . He meant them and you knew it. Jake’s heart was arguably the most genuine, honest, exquisite you’d ever come across. So, it really didn’t take a second thought to utter your next words. “You can absolutely have the responsibilities of a father. . . if that’s what you want,” you raised your eyebrow with the word if. And at that, he’d nodded with an I do spoken quietly against the lull of the A/C. 

Though, there was one thing that he needed to know. The protective mama in you — that part of you needed to say this for your baby’s sake. He or she would not hurt like you had your whole life. 

“However,” your tone got serious, unwavering. “You can’t pull the shit with leaving like you did tonight with the baby. If you want the responsibility, you’ve gotta be sure.”

“I am,” he said, not missing a beat. “I won’t do that again.”

“I mean, you can do it to me. I can handle it. I’ve learned that that happens. . . but the baby. . . I just–.”

“I’m not leaving either of you alone in this,” he assured, leaning closer to you. Your heart skipped a beat. Due to still drying from the rain, he smelled like the Earth– fresh, sweet, real. Solid. True. “I know you won’t be alone because you have Josh and Elsie and so many other people, but. . . I want to be in this with you and the baby.”

“What about Maya?” You lightly asked, slightly confused. 

“She’s not going anywhere anytime soon,” he responded quickly. Too quickly. It made your chest tight and a giant rock hit the pit of your stomach. “But she will understand that I have to be there for you.”

Not trusting yourself to talk with the tears gathering in your throat, you just nodded before bowing your head to look at your little tummy. Reassurance in the sweetest, most innocent form. 

He took a deep breath, the rush of his breath, fresh from a mint he’d sucked on on the way back. “I really shouldn’t have left you tonight,” he firmly stated.

You looked up from your belly, blinking a few times to register that he was speaking so closely to you, close enough for his breath, now brushed your cheek. Not super close, but close enough. Much closer than he’d been for a while. 

He continued, “And you shouldn’t have to feel guilty for telling me on your own time. You are the one who was in charge of all of those decisions. It’s your body. Your body that’s growing the baby. . . So, it’s your right to decide things like that,” he enunciated, his intent to reassure, clear in his tone. “It just sucks a little bit for me that it was Josh, but that’s on me. . . not you. But even with all of that, I really should not have left. That gave you the opposite idea of what I wanted to give you. . . It was just a-fuckin’-lot to process all at once.”

“Yes, and you are completely entitled to believing that it was a lot–that it is a lot,” you reassured him, regretting a few of your words from earlier. “Even if you’re not the one carrying the baby, it’s going to be intense for you as the father. Maybe even more so–.”

He made a little noise of disagreement, but you just gave a quiet grin, holding up a hand.

“. . .in some senses. Especially since you can only experience it from the outside. I’m the one who is experiencing all of the changes, all of the time. I’m reminded every time I look down or touch my belly, but you don’t have that luxury every moment of the day.”

“Yeah, but it’s still more for you,” he argued.

“It’s okay, Jake,” you smiled. “I still agree. Trust me. I just wanted you to know that I understand how it might end up feeling for you. I was just afraid I made you feel like you weren’t validated in feeling overwhelmed. Leaving made sense. It’s just the worst feeling for a girl with abandonment issues,” you chanced a look down at your tummy, feeling awkward approaching so many personal feelings. It felt weird that it still felt so natural. He just brought it out in you. You quickly covered, not wanting to seem overbearing. “W-which, I can handle it–it is not on you to–”

“No, it is on me,” he seriously professed, eyes earnestly holding onto yours. “I knew about your past and I still left you. I am seriously so sorr–.”

“Jake,” you sighed his name, looking up at him again. His jaw was flexing, eyebrows turned in. “Stop apologizing,” your lips lifted in a soft smile, bringing a hand to sit on top of his. “We all do things we regret and it wouldn’t be fair for us to hold those things against each other. . . when we’ve all done thoughtless things in the heat of the moment.” At the last bit, your eyes left his to flash at your tummy.  Your hand left the top of his to delicately hold your small bump. “Example A of a ‘Heat of the Moment’ moment.”

A quiet beat passed, his face thoughtful as his eyes studied your own before he spoke. 

“I don’t regret that one though,” he said, eyes so big and so beautifully deep with emotion. 

Wetness was suddenly gathering in the corners of your eyes when you traced them over him—over his chest, tanned and exhaling so handsomely with every breath he took. You looked away from his perfect pecs, and back up to his eyes. 

“I don’t either.”

There were a few slow, nearly silent moments where all you could hear was the sound of your combined breaths with the A/C blasting against you both. Your hands still held each other, gripped each other. His hair was dry. His face was dry. And in the secret dimness of the night and the bright light of the tall lamp outside, you could see all of the delicate markings and freckles on his face. The light birthmark on the tan skin of his cheek.

Before you could think to do another ‘Heat of the Moment’ thing (weird term, but it definitely applied to you), and do something like rub the skin of his birthmark with your thumb, he was breaking eye contact, skin contact, and shutting the car off. 

“Better go inside,” he said, pausing as he’d just taken the keys out of the ignition. “It’s getting late.”

“It also might start pouring again,” you added, opening your door, trying to make conversation. 

He didn’t open your door that time, like he had at the restaurant. He just sent a quiet smile your way before getting out of his side. He did, however, wait for you to meet him at the rear bumper of the car before heading back to the apartment. You matched one another’s steps in silence. It was a bit awkward now, unlike the calm, still moment in the car. Your breaths, having combined in the shared space. . .

When you’d made it inside, he told you to go get ready for bed and that he’d feed Stevie and take care of the rest of the apartment.

“You just go to bed,” he waved you off, his expression kind. “It’s been a long night and you need rest.”

He obviously wanted to help, so you let him. Albeit, you let him do so while your heart fell a bit in your chest at your evening with him coming to an end. You hoped that there would be more times like this in the future with the baby you now both knew you shared. 

Absently, you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, then nodded and gave a faint goodnight. Once you were getting into bed in a giant t-shirt to cover the bit of ass exposed at the edges of your comfortable granny panties, you heard a little knock against your cracked door. 

You waited for him to come in since the door was still cracked, but he didn’t.

“Yeah?” You called, brows drawn in.

He opened the white paneled door just enough to show him at the threshold of your room. His hand was on the knob while he leaned with the opposite forearm against the doorframe. You did very well at not blatantly checking him out. That was something to be proud of. 

Though, you couldn’t be too proud, because you knew it was just because your tiredness had hit you like a ton of bricks. It had been impossible to ignore as soon as you’d felt the cool, soft cotton of the gray oversized t-shirt touch your skin. 

Your blinking was becoming slower and slower by the second. But your eyes perked up a little when he cleared his throat, suddenly interested in anything he had to say. Even if it was something as simple as Stevie not being hungry. Just wanted to hear his voice once more before going to bed.

And you got exactly that as his eyes swept over your face briefly, deep in thought. “I really, genuinely do want to help however I can with the baby stuff—however you want me or need me. I want to help you because it means I’m helping the baby. Our baby.”

Okay, the next time he referred to the baby being his, you were sure your heart was going to beat completely out of your chest. It did things to you.

“Alright,” you responded tiredly, a slight blush warmed your cheeks. “That sounds good.”

When you loudly yawned, he nodded with a quiet grin fitting his handsome features. He began to shut the door, but just before he could, he opened it once more.

“I–,” he cleared his throat. Your stomach felt airy and light at the possibility of what he might say. You didn’t know what to expect, but him talking to you was just. . . exactly what you needed. “I took a drive and listened to music, by the way.” 

You blinked, brow furrowed with confusion. “. . .What?” 

“When I left tonight. I just drove around and listened to music,” he said, his amber-brown eyes, so earnest. “Cleared my head with music.”

“Why are you telling–?” You sleepily wondered aloud.

“I. . . didn’t go see anyone,” he elaborated. “Just wanted you to know that. Also, I promise I won’t tell anyone–including Maya– until you’re ready.” 

“Okay,” you squeaked, unsure of what else to say.

After observing each other for just a few moments after he’d spoken, he suddenly dipped out with a quick ‘Goodnight.’

The thunderstorm picked up again right after he’d left you, Stevie racing in, all frazzled, with her tail fluffed out at the sounds of the storm. The sleep that threatened to cloud your vision was a most welcome friend as you let yourself become cozy under your soft, high thread count sheets and fluffy, featherlight duvet. Your head was nestled against the pillow, Stevie snuggled against your ankles, purring. And your brain was just wandering off to slumberland when you understood why he’d said what he did about not being with anyone. . . it finally clicked. 

He’d wanted you to know he hadn’t been with Maya like you’d assumed. Like you’d brashly accused him of at Applebee’s.

. . .But why did he care to tell you? 

-🌼🌼🌼-

The next morning, you sat at the counter with a book about pregnancy, taking notes. It was the end of your new morning routine. 

You didn’t have class or work for the day, so you were enjoying some much needed down time. The idea that you’d be able to take countless naps literally made goosebumps rise on your skin. 

“Hey.”

And now you had even more goosebumps erupting at the sound of his raspy voice. 

“Morning,” you replied, highlighting a line in your book about staying ‘physically active’ during pregnancy. 

“Morning. You feeling okay?”

“Mhm. . .” you replied, halfway present and barely looking up from the page and the sticky you were jotting a note onto.

“Taking notes?”

“So many,” you giggled, your eyes finally looking up to find him dressed and ready for the day at the Keurig, preparing a cup of coffee. “All the time, I’m doing research.”

“I believe it,” he replied, clicking his K-cup in the holder. The hot drink was trickling into his mug when he looked at you in question. “Based on your research, can you have caffeine? Could I make you a coffee or something?”

“Um, not the safest in high amounts,” you pondered, flipping to the page where you’d just read about that a few days ago and quoted the book for him. “‘Drinking caffeine during pregnancy has some major health risks. The caffeine gets digested much slower and goes through the placenta into your baby’s bloodstream,’” you droned, feeling obnoxious with the long response. 

“Interesting. Anything else it says about it?”

You raised a brow and gave him an ‘mhm’ before looking at the page again. “‘This means that the caffeine side effects of a racing heart rate, high blood pressure, and a stimulated nervous system affect you and your baby. The result is a higher chance of miscarriage. Even small amounts have been known to cause a 13% increase in low birth weight for your newborn,’” you glanced up, he was rubbing his chin, listening to every word. So, you finished out the paragraph. “‘Try switching to a naturally decaffeinated herbal tea, but do consult your doctor or midwife as certain herbs can cause premature labor.’”

“Have you tried any herbal tea?”

You made a gagging motion. Herbal tea honestly did not strike your fancy at this stage in your life. “The baby says herbal tea sounds disgusting,” you joked. He huffed a laugh with you as you finished your thought. “I’m looking into smoothies to start the day. I’m actually going to try making a few today since I’m home all day.”

“Cool. Just thought I’d offer,” he finished. 

Or so you thought.

After getting his coffee off the Keurig, he made his way around the counter to sit in the barstool next to you. Heat washed over your face at his closeness.

“Speaking of doctor or midwife. . . which are you going with?”

“Doctor,” you answered. “Her name is Dr. Rose. Sweet, middle aged, Southern lady.”

“Oh, you’ve had your first appointment?” He asked, sounding curious and a little apprehensive. 

“Yeah. . . First one last week.”

“Oh,” he replied, sounding just a little discouraged. But he tried to cover it. “Cool. How did it go? Did you have to go alone?”

“Mhm,” you said, suddenly digging into a page and very seriously taking notes on a sticky note about random ass shit you could care less about. “Josh went. It went well.”

He hummed, not responding right away. And you knew why. 

You really did feel guilty now that you’d taken Josh to your first appointment and not Jake. He was the baby’s father, after all. And thinking about how he’d have reacted to seeing the baby with you, both of you, for the first time. . . You were suddenly very downcast as you thought of the missed opportunity. 

“But you can come to the rest of them with me,” you rushed out, suddenly looking up at him as you said so. His eyes were huge as he watched you be neurotic. God, you were annoying. “If–if you want. I don’t want to pressure you.”

“O–of course. Yes,” he stuttered. “You tell me when and I’ll be there. Every single one.”

You realized he sounded eager and thrilled, not frightened like you feared. 

“Okay,” you acknowledged, slightly breathless. 

Once again, you were in the same situation as you had been last night. He was, once more, so close. Right there. Your shared breathing, the only sound comprehensible to your ears in the calm, quiet of the morning. His breath, smelling of coffee, should have turned you off. . . but it didn’t not at all. And the way he went to lick his lips, just once– his eyes, not leaving yours. . . 

Then, he was jolted back to reality, blinking furiously. 

“I’ve, um, gotta go run some errands and then I have a meeting with the label,” he suddenly said, rising up. He grabbed his cup, rushing around, dumping it in the sink before grabbing a cinnamon bagel from the pantry. He bent to get a Zip-loc bag from a lower cabinet, and your eyes moved on their own to his ass in his light denim jeans. 

What. A. Sight. Now you were darting your tongue out to sweep over your lips.

He zipped up the bagel and left it on the counter to hurry to his room. When he reappeared, he was holding his phone, sending a text based on the sound, before he tucked it into his front pocket. He also held a beat up guitar case. 

“Still carrying around that same old case?” You grinned, a brow perked at the sight of the duct tape holding it together. A few stickers here and there, littering the case. “Not a new one to match your new rockstar life?”

“The case adds character,” he winked, your blushing face, the victim. Then, he was on his way to the door, keys jingling out of the bowl on the counter and into his hand. “Let me know if you need anything today.”

You were responding with an agreeing noise and word as he shut the door behind him. But when your eyes scanned the counter again, you saw the bagel. Even though it was just a bagel with cinnamon swirl, it was still his breakfast. He needed to eat. That’s what had you rushing out the door after him, your page getting a quick sticky pressed into it.

And, as soon as you saw the twinkle in his eye at you remembering to grab the bagel for him, you realized that you just wanted that. If you were being completely honest, you’d just needed that one last smile to start your day. The perfect start to a morning, you’d say. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

You decided to order some chicken fajitas from a local restaurant. DoorDash was your new best friend with the pregnancy cravings. 

Chicken fajitas were a new favorite for the baby. A weekish ago when you’d first tried them as a pregnant woman, you’d learned they tasted more delicious than they ever had before. They didn’t make your tummy roll.

As you waited for the food to arrive, you decided to do some tidying around the apartment. You washed a couple of dishes you’d left in the sink from the morning, and picked up notebooks, textbooks, and toys of Stevie’s from around the living room. Then, after further inspection of the living room, you realized it could handle a sweep or two with a vacuum. And after that, you decided to Swiffer the kitchen. Didn’t feel like full-on mopping, but you had to round out the floor cleaning. 

Before you could head to your bedroom or restroom to clean those spaces, a boundary was drawn for you when you heard a knock at the front door. DoorDash. Food. Fajitas.

Suddenly, unashamedly, your mouth was watering. Food took total priority over cleaning and you left the vacuum and Swiffer precisely where they were. You never left them out after cleaning, but you were hungry, okay? 

But just as you’d made it to the door, you didn’t have to open it. Instead, you heard polite conversation from the other side, thank you’s and have a good night’s. 

Before he opened the door, you went ahead and did it for him. And so, when you did, there was Jake, holding your food. The fajitas didn’t matter much anymore. 

Well. . . That was until he walked in and you got a good whiff of the steaming, seasoned vegetables and grilled chicken. Priorities were back to normal real quick with an embarrassing rumble from your stomach. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Once you’d eaten all of your food in basically one bite, you sat on your sofa with a damn good book you were quickly becoming entranced by. But about twenty minutes into you sitting there, Jake appeared from where he’d disappeared to shower after he’d sat your food on the counter.

“You know, I keep thinking about something,” Jake started, coming to sit on the opposite end of the couch from you.

He was freshly showered— looking and smelling fucking delicious–hints of citrus came from his drying hair. Then, you smelled the warm and slightly sweet scent of sandalwood as he moved, propping his pajama clad legs on the coffee table in front of you two, unsticking his ripped t-shirt from his probably still-wet chest. You tried very hard not to watch him situate himself, too. The way he adjusted the inner seam of his pants, dangerously close to his. . . 

Yeah, you looked away. Focused hard on the book you were trying your damnedest to read. His body was a massive distraction. 

Trying to not be totally inappropriate, you replied to his earlier statement, still training your eyes on the page in front of you. “What were you thinking about?”

“I brought up the therapy thing the other night,” he started. You gave an absentminded ‘mhm’ in response, finally finding slight interest in the characters in front of you again. “And I’ve been wondering. Did you ever give that a second thought? Starting therapy?”

You blinked your eyes a few times, trying to catch up with the more serious topic of conversation. Looking up from your book, you closed it and put it to the side. When you placed the novel on the coffee table, he followed your hand back to you. His eyes found yours and your eyes fluttered again. You shook your head. “Yeah,” you trained your features, letting a smile float to your lips at his attention to you. “I actually–um–I started going.”

His features showed unkempt elation at your words. His eyes, bright and a wide smile on his lips. He sat up, facing you better than before, a foot balanced on the floor as the other bent with his body leaning towards you. “Seriously?!”

“Yeah,” you blushed. Why did he care so much? Surely it was mostly for the wellbeing of the baby. Right? 

You know he cared before he knew about the baby, a calm voice hushed in the corners of your mind. Just let him in. Don’t be afraid.

Clearing your throat, you kept up with your thoughts and tried to open up in spite of your ever-swirling unsureness. “Thank you for doing the research. Really. I’m super grateful. You gave me the push I needed and I’ll never be able to thank you enough. The baby, too,” you added. “I wanted to get better for the baby. You two made quite the team in helping me want to be better.”

His cheeks reddened, complimenting his skin tone and the few freckles and scars that dotted his cheeks. He shook his head, “Don’t thank me. I just wanted to help–that’s it. You made the brave move to start,” his lips twitched with a quiet, close-lipped grin. “How’s it going? Well–no–you don’t have to answer–that’s not my–.”

You ignored him, suddenly feeling this urge to fill him in. “I love my therapist. Like, she is already one of my favorite people on this fucking earth,” you beamed, thinking of Gia’s wonderful aura and personality. “And we actually start EMDR in a couple of weeks.”

“Oh,” he started, surprised. His eyes widened as he leaned back into the arm of the couch nearest him. “You decided on EMDR, too?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, glancing down briefly before letting your eyes dance with his again. “That seemed to be the only logical route since there’s so much shit to dig through that I don’t even–can’t even remember. It seemed like the most intensive form of therapy and I needed that.”

“Are you afraid of what you might find?”

“Yes,” you replied without question. “But, that’s the only way you can properly heal. Sometimes things that feel right–like EMDR, because it just feels like the right path already– those things, they’re going to probably also feel a little uncomfortable and feared at first. But, it all leads to the ultimate destination of being healed. And that’s what matters most.”

There was a quietness, a cozy silence that settled between the two of you. A few moments where you shared breaths and your gazes intertwined. . . It felt heavenly to share space with him like this when things felt normal and all right between the two of you. There wasn’t another word for it. 

His eyes were sincere with his tone when he broke the silence. “Y/n,” he breathed your name, making your tummy flutter with the most illustrious butterflies. “I am so fucking proud of you.”

Suddenly feeling like you were getting too much praise for something you were doing for the baby rather than yourself, you shook your head and brushed him off with a wave of your hand. “Don’t be,” you encouraged with a little scoff, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal. Really.”

“I will be proud and it is a big deal,” he concluded. “All I’ve wanted is for you to feel closer to being whole–you deserve it.”

“The baby deserves it most,” you argued–didn’t want to be self-centered on the subject. “It’s for the baby.”

“Well,” he cleared his throat, crossing his arms across the chest of his white t-shirt. “I want you to focus on helping yourself, too, y/n. Please,” he asked, tone softening. Your eyes flickered across his. “I brought it up in the first place because I wanted you to feel better.”

You took it as food for thought, nodding at his words. Truly, you did consider what he’d said. . . his opinion mattered a helluva lot to you–probably too much. But you didn’t want to waver from who you were doing it mostly for. Your hand found your tummy as you reached the coffee table for your book and Stanley. 

Taking a big sip from your trusty tumbler, you eyed him once more before opening your book. You didn’t want him to feel obligated to stay in here with you when you were sure he had better things to do. “I will remember that,” you offered with a small grin, flipping your book open to where you dog-eared it. 

You waited for him to get up from his spot on the couch, but. . . he didn’t. He stayed put, situating his body to face the TV. 

In your peripheral vision, you saw how his legs spread across the cushion and once again tried to ignore ignore ignore. But you couldn’t help the thought that there was just something so fucking enticing about Jake Kiszka manspreading. It was gross when every other man did it. But Jake? All it made you want to do was straddle his sturdy hips.

Fuck. Focus on the book. Come on, y/n.

“Also. . .you realize, if you are craving something,” he began, pulling you from your book yet again. “You don’t have to DoorDash it. I’m always willing to go get you the food you are wanting.”

To put it simply, you were surprised by the turn in conversation. It was sort of random, but also not random all at the same time. 

For no reason whatsoever, you decided to combat the sweet offer. “What if you’re with Maya when I’m craving something?”

Why the fuck were you like this? Honestly, it felt mostly like a form of protection from getting your hopes up too high. . . it was a coping mechanism. But you hated it. It was stupid.

He hummed, thinking. Then, he piped up with an answer in no time. “I’ll just try to make sure we hang out here more than her house. Simple.”

Oh, joy.

“You’d rather be here than her massive mansion of a home?” You questioned, trying to not think about seeing her stupidly stunning face more than you wanted to. 

“Well, yeah,” he confusedly responded. “This is my home and I like being here.”

His home. He liked being here. The words pulled at you–in every direction. Broke you and made you wish things were different.

“How does she afford that, by the way?” You unapologetically nosed, not wanting to sit in any downhearted thoughts. It was rude to pry, you knew. But you didn’t really care at the moment.

He chuckled raspily, reaching to the coffee table for the Roku remote. When your eyes immediately looked over your book to peer at his waist, you didn’t think twice about it. It was whatever. “She’s the financial manager for this big corporation on Fifth Avenue.”

Your stomach fell. Jesus. Besides having trash music taste, apparently she was incredibly intelligent, too? What didn’t she have? You couldn’t even figure out what the fuck you wanted to do with your life and she was financially managing a giant ass company?Depressing as hell. Showed you your worth once again, in comparison to her. She was someone and you were literally nobody. 

“Can I watch something?” He asked you, patiently waiting. You gave a half-ass ‘yeah, of course’ in reply, not fully present. 

And when he eventually turned on some documentary about pirates that sort of piqued your interest, too, you decided to close your book for a final time. And you didn't put any more substance to your gloomy self-consciousness. It was your own fault you were feeling this way now–being nosy when you shouldn’t have been. Prying into someone’s life who’d never done anything wrong to you. 

Yeah, she’d slept with Jake. . . but did she even know that you’d also–? Shit. Did she know that the woman her boyfriend lived with used to fuck him, too? How in the hell would she react to the news if she didn’t already know that–? Your stomach twisted into knots at the thought of her finding out about. . . all of it.

The courage sprouted up as a historian started speaking on an infamous female pirate. “Does–does Maya know that we used to. . .?”

His brows dipped, thoughtful, turning down the television to acknowledge you’d spoken. But, he kept watching the documentary, his eyes honed in on the black-boxed subtitles. “No, actually. No she doesn’t. Didn’t really feel the need to tell her.”

Of course he didn’t feel the need. It kind of really hurt, but it wasn’t on Jake. Not at all. You knew very well that the sex probably wasn't as important to him as he’d once expressed. You’d been so angry and hateful to him, enough to drive away any sort of deep, lingering feelings that might have lied there. 

He knew that it wasn’t special enough that she needed to know. It was something of the past. All that mattered now was her. Only now. . . There was one inevitable reason it would have to come to light. You didn’t give voice to the obvious. The fact that, now, he would have to tell her. And you both knew it. 

As he turned the volume up a couple notches, you couldn’t help but wonder how the fuck would she react. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 21, 2022

You couldn’t have made it to your car any faster if you tried. Looking at your parking decision in hindsight, you realized you should have parked closer to the campus advisory office. But you hadn’t. You’d left your car parked where it had been for class. So now you had to walk a much longer distance that you could have avoided. . . If you’d just thought ahead.  

And in depressing moments like these, you wished you would have. The tears that flew down your cheeks in steady tracks made you beyond grateful that you hadn’t worn mascara. You’d had to meet with your advisor today to touch base and talk career plans. . . It was something that Pratt had decided to add to all program studies, for senior students. The idea of the meeting was to help students feel supported. 

But you didn’t feel fucking supported. Not at all. The way your advisor had blatantly judged you for even daring to bring up the idea of being a lyricist. . . She had instantly struck your idea down with a curt shake of her head and furrowed brows. Her eyes had lit up with laughter. But thankfully, she hadn’t been so terrible as to actually laugh in your face. 

Her words hadn’t been much better than that alternative, though. She’d unabashedly, condescendingly criticized your idea of becoming a lyricist. She made you feel stupid for ever even thinking of it as a possibility. 

“I’m not saying it’s impossible, but there’s a very slim chance that a label will take a fresh graduate. That’s a career you have to prove yourself in. Takes a long time to do that, a lot of experience that you don’t have.” 

The snarky tone in her voice pissed you off. Her words stuck with you enough that they dared to crush every dream you had about your future, which is something an advisor should not do. They should encourage, not discourage, to the point of making their advisee’s feel like utter shit after an appointment. 

So, as you finally made it to your car, you tried to contain the sobs that threatened to escape. . . but to no avail. Because, over and over again, you thought of how your advisor–someone who should be helping you to pursue your dreams–basically told you that you weren’t good enough for the one thing you wanted to do. She’d told you as much in her “officially official doctorate-level” advisor lingo. If her goal had been to completely crush you, she’d done just that. 

You were glad your next stop was therapy because you desperately needed to hear Gia’s two cents.

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 21, 2022

You spent roughly 30 minutes filling Gia in on the past week of your life. She heard all about you telling Jake, talking to your campus advisor, and any other thing that came to mind to tell her. 

When you started the session, Gia had let you know that you only had the first thirty minutes because you needed to find your mental and emotional safe place by the end of the session. It was today’s goal to establish that place. Finding your footing in the safe place was a vital precursor before you began EMDR. She’d had great advice for your life update, once you’d effectively word-vomited all over her. 

To your utter relief, the career thing didn’t bother her at all. Her expression barely changed as she’d shrugged. The first thing she’d done was assure you that everything would be fine and it would work out and that you have time to figure it out, despite what societal norms would tell you. So, even though that had been the biggest, most terrifying thing on your mind when you’d shown up to counseling today, you decided to not worry about it since Gia didn’t seem disturbed by the news at all. 

“Anything is possible,” she’d reassured you once your tears had momentarily stopped after telling her everything your advisor had said. “Don’t let a few words–opinions– from one woman make you disbelieving of that fact.”

Her opinions on Jake were positive, too, which made your heart swell in your chest. Though, it simultaneously broke for the fact that you couldn’t kiss him and hug him and be with him to tell him what she thought of him. Would he think it was weird if you told him what she thought of him? Would it freak him out that you’ve talked about him enough to Gia that she has a solid preconceived opinion of him?

“And Jake. . .,” she’d remarked at the end of the thirty minute mark, rolling back in her chair to her desk to get a big swig of her herbal tea. Your baby thought it was gross, your stomach rolling, but good for her and her nasty tea. “He is an outstanding example of a man. I’m impressed with his actions, his words. . . all of it. He seems like a stand up guy, and I hope I get to meet him one of these days,” her grin was sly, but you didn’t know why. 

So, yes, while your heart beat erratically and longingly at her words about him, it simultaneously broke your heart for the fact that you couldn’t kiss him and hug him and be with him to tell him what she thought of him. Would he think it was weird if you told him what she thought of him? Would it freak him out that you’ve talked about him enough to Gia that she has a solid preconceived opinion of him?

It made you think, as you watched her type notes on her laptop . . . Would you have told him if you were still seeing each other? Surely so. . . But maybe not. . . you weren’t really the best at complimenting him. And you sort of (desperately) hated that.

Don’t fucking think about it, y/n, a thoughtful, protective voice said to you. Just think about you right now. 

So, you did the best you could to shove any thought of being a bitch to him from your mind. And instead focused on Gia’s comfortable couch. Soft camel-colored leather. The way the cushion sank under you felt like sitting on a dense cloud. She was making light conversation before getting to the nitty gritty. You focused on her the best you could. 

Today would be your first venture into the realm of EMDR. . . . And you were anxious to begin this long-awaited journey of replenishing your soul with the incredible gift of reprocessing. 

“The safe place we are finding today will be where you go when things become too much during our EMDR sessions.” Gia wheeled closer to you in her light pink office chair, the smell of eucalyptus and mint following her, as she must use it as a sort of body oil or spray. She carried the calming smell with her everywhere. And the office, so wonderfully consoling with the scent of lavender. The little machine that spurted the essential oil every 10 minutes. All of these things combined, keeping the room drenched in calm. 

“There are places your mind is going to take you, some darker than others. These are scenes from your life that you will need to experience again in order for us to process through them so you can heal through them. Considering, you know, EMDR is simply a reprocessing technique,” she explained, adjusting her wire lens frames on her nose. “In order to not feel trapped, claustrophobic, or overwhelmed in these memories, you will need to have a safe place to turn to–a place to run to–a scene to easily unlock. It might be unknown to you until you actually plant your feet in that scene, but this place is already the natural wave your brain takes to feel safe.” She added one more thing to this train of thought. “This will just be the first time your brain is able to fully experience it. . . because you’re actually giving yourself the permission to do so.”

She held her hands out, palms up, and you took the hint and placed your hands in hers. As you would have guessed, her hands were soft as silk, matching the rest of her fairy-like aura. She squeezed once, lightly before continuing, “Now, I will be there the whole time, watching you, to monitor if you are doing alright. Sometimes you can sense it and get out, and other times it’s a little bit trickier. I will watch your eyes and the way your muscles tense, to gauge how I believe you’re feeling. Your body language will speak the words you may not be able to. This is an incredibly intricate form of therapy that we will wade through together. You will never be alone.”

She grinned, and you did the same. The way she explained these things to you was so assuaging. Were you scared? Hell yes. Of course you were scared. You were about to experience events that had become so dark and secreted in your mind, that they’d left you deep, lasting trauma. . . for a second time.

The re-experiencing aspect was daunting. But. . . you weren’t intimidated. You felt strong to withstand what was to come from your mind. There was the sense that you could overcome the darkness that was buried–some forgotten, some not–in your mind. . . especially if Gia was there to help you through it.

She let go of your hands after giving one more reassuring press. Then she was wheeling back to her desk.

“How are you feeling? Are you comfortable?” Gia asked, grabbing a round, average size cloth, zipped bag off of her desk and placing it in her lap. 

“I’m honestly feeling very much at ease right now. And, yes,” you replied honestly. You pressed your hands into the cool leather of the couch you were sitting on, your hands sinking into the ideally aged material. “I love your couch.”

“That’s good,” she smiled, full lips stretching over her white teeth. “Now, I want you to do a few calming exercises with me. We will start with deep breaths, then we will practice a few eye movement exercises. You just let me know when you’re ready.”

Not wanting to wait any longer, you responded readily. “I would love to begin whenever.”

“You’re sure?” 

“Yes,” you replied, brows fixed and eyes serious. “The sooner I can heal from this, myself, the sooner I’ll be healed for my baby. I’m ready.”

She raised a perfectly trimmed, coffee-colored brow. “You’re incredible, y/n.”

You rolled your eyes, but thanked her nonetheless. You weren’t incredible. Your baby was, and he or she was why you were doing this. The baby was your push, without even being born yet–the baby was the powerful one. 

Gia had you complete a variation of calming breathing exercises to center yourself. And after those, you completed eye movement exercises for the first time in your entire life. It was . . . odd, yet equally nice.

“Your body is loosening. You’re letting yourself transcend–easing your mind,” she said, voice airy and light. Your form felt just as light as her tone. “Now, open your eyes. We’ll do a shortened version of those techniques right before we begin. 

Your eyes slowly opened back to reality to see her unzipping the round black case she’d been holding in her lap. When she opened it, the contents of it were brand new to you. You’d never really seen a thing like the devices she was moving to hold in her hands. She pulled out two little black devices that were attached to a chord plugged into a slightly larger black box. This one, though, had knobs and buttons decorating the front of it. Your curiosity was growing by the second.

She wheeled her chair over to you once more, holding the black gadgets in each hand.

“These are tactical paddles,” she said, motioning for you to take them. When you did, she turned a knob on the black box she was still holding, sending a full vibration to the ones in your hands. “They’re buzzers that will help activate both sides of your brain during the session.”

They were buzzing one by one as you held them in the middle of your palms. You couldn’t tell if it was just your imagination, but you swore you felt each side of your brain moving right along with them. She scooted back a bit, giving you space to experience the feeling. She adjusted the knob just slightly once she’d moved away and you felt their vibrations speed up a little. 

“Do they feel okay?” She asked, situating the frames of her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. “How are you feeling?”

“It’s strange,” you said without thinking. “It’s very comfortable to hold them. . . but that is part of why it’s strange.”

Gia loosely giggled at that and reassured you that that reaction was more than typical and that she always considered that particular combination of feelings a good place to begin.  

After completing the body relaxation practices once more, you were being guided by Gia. “Relax your body. Lean back. Lay back. Whatever feels best for you.” With the last word, she adjusted the paddles down to a more neutral setting. Your hands felt tingly in a weird, yet contented way.

“Bring to mind the intention that you are practicing feeling safe when you actually are safe,” she softly said, soothing. “One of the best ways to evoke this feeling of safety is to imagine being in a place that you might really enjoy being–wherever you may feel naturally safe, peaceful, and/or calm.” She paused briefly, the paddles changed speed as your head started to become light. “It can be a real place or a place that you’ve come to imagine in your mind on instinct. This is the place you travel at the idea of feeling serene.”

You breathed an ‘okay’ in response, but focused more on the way the instruments in your hands were aiding in sending you somewhere. You felt the atmosphere of your mind slowly changing–equally present and not.

The word Gia had earlier used. . .’transcend.’ It was the perfect word because you currently were completely, wholly transcendent.

“I’m right here,” Gia quietly, gently reminded you, as the blackness behind your eyes took hold, becoming the only thing your five senses could grasp, aside from the sound of Gia’s gentle guidance. “You are doing great.”

You felt the instantaneous feeling of a light breeze brush your face. It pushed you back, but you also felt the feeling of your body keeping still. There were two places. Reality: Gia’s office. And somewhere completely unknown. . . You were somewhere new. 

This wasn’t a place you’d ever been before. The barely-there sounds of birds chirping in trees within a forest that guarded you, on all sides, reverberated off the walls of your mind. The sounds, the breeze– they helped you find your footing. And suddenly, your feet were bare against the partially warm, partially cool feeling of damp dirt. Rain had recently come to this place. You could smell the rain. But every crevice of your mind knew it wasn’t raining anymore. No, you knew that the moment you opened your eyes, you’d find a light, clear blue sky, maybe a couple wisps of clouds painting against the beautifully blank canvas of azure. But you weren’t opening your eyes yet. You focused on everything else taking shape around you. 

The paddles continued to transfer varying speeds between your palms, but it was the last thing on your mind. They were the guide that you knew to follow, but didn’t have to concentrate on. 

Your nose tuned in to the smell of flowers around you. . . All kinds, but there was a particular plant infiltrating your mind the most. . . Though, you knew you wouldn’t be able to place it until you opened your eyes. It was strange because you knew the smell, but your lack of sight was keeping the name of the flower hidden. 

Other things were hidden with your eyes still closed, but you kind of enjoyed the blank space. 

This season. . . the most wonderful tiny person was bound to grace the world in this season. Spring. It was springtime. You knew that much. Once your mind realized the season you were placed in, your eyes opened a little more to the scene around you. 

Lavender. An entire field of the wonderfully fragrant plant, surrounding you with its calming notes. And it was beautiful. Never in your whole life had you been in such a beautiful space, yet your mind had no problem creating it for you. 

“Tell me what you see, but keep your eyes closed for me,” you heard Gia’s voice, although it sounded a hundred miles away. It was hushed, distant, like you were hearing her through a tunnel–only an echo in your mind. It was strange. Your physical form was still seated on the comfy couch, but you were standing amongst the most lovely sea of lavender. 

“I’m. . .I’m not really sure where I am,” you whispered, feeling like raising your voice would disturb the serenity of this place you’d stumbled upon. “I’ve never been here before. It’s–it’s incredible.”

Much like Gia’s, your own voice felt muted in your head. But, unlike her, you were standing in the middle of a narrow tunnel, whereas she was at the end. You were traveling somewhere. Obviously.

“That’s okay,” she tells you. You suddenly felt the paddles quicken ever so gently in their pace, but they felt good. Comforting. Real. “Just tell me everything you’re seeing right now.”

“Lavender. . .A field of lavender. A forest surrounding me. Blue sky. . .,” You couldn’t feel much of saying the word lavender. “So much of it. I could just lay in it, let it surround me.” 

“So you’re outside– good. What else do you see? Is there any wildlife?” The echo of her voice became even more distant as you began walking around, searching for whatever else was there with you. 

Deer. A whole family across the field, taking nourishment from the flowers and emerald green grass. They weren’t like normal deer, though. They didn’t run from you as you approached them. They weren’t scared, they just existed peacefully within this place. Then, you heard the birds begin chirping again, as if on queue. 

“Birds are singing. . . There are deer,” you felt yourself telling her, still in amazement with your next words. “They’re really beautiful. And they’re not afraid of me. . .? I can almost touch them.” 

This was entirely unreal, yet all too real all at once. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever believe your mind was capable of this. Yet, there you were, witnessing the most alluring scene that you were sure didn’t physically exist anywhere on earth. Only in your mind. Safely in your mind. No one could destroy it, no one could infiltrate it. It was all yours.

“That sounds wonderful, y/n. Let's focus on a few other senses. Tell me what you smell,” Gia’s sweet voice sounded as if it was coming from the sky, from the wind. It was all around you, yet so far away. 

You felt your present body take a deep breath through your nose, trying to get the best whiff you could of everything surrounding your psyche. 

“I smell the lavender. It’s overwhelming, but in the best way. God it. . .It smells so good. So. . . Fresh. It’s newly bloomed. And I can smell rain. It’s not raining now but it was.”

“Good,” Gia softy said. “What can you touch? Tell me what it feels like.” 

You reached down to run your fingers over a spray of the dark violet flowers, their scent became even more powerful as you lightly ruffled them. 

“I’m touching the lavender,” you told her. “The buds are so soft, so light to touch. They feel delicate, but I know they won’t break. They’re sturdy. But they aren’t stiff.” 

Aside from the way they felt against your hands, they also emitted a feeling of pure peace. Of tranquility. A good, clean energy unlike anything you’d ever felt. 

“I can almost feel them too, y/n.” You heard her giggle quietly across the field. “What are you  doing? Are you standing, sitting?”

You then felt the urge to lie down. So, you did. Your body felt weightless in your mind as you let yourself fall backward, landing softly amidst the blooms. It felt like the most comfortable bed you’d ever laid in. But before you answered her, you felt your hands within your mind reach down to your tummy. You had to know if your sweet baby was there with you. 

And as you laid your palm gently over your tiny bump, you felt it. Your baby was with you, safely tucked away in the most calm place you’d ever known. It only made sense that your physical form of comfort found its way to your mental one, too. Feeling your bump here made you feel. . .complete. Although, there was still something missing. You didn’t know what, but you felt it. But at that moment, your baby was all you needed. 

Or so you thought. 

Because when you let yourself sit up from where you’d laid in the magnificent, flourishing field of flowers, you finally felt complete because the last person you needed had arrived. 

He was standing across from you, on the opposite side of the field. His long, wavy chestnut locks, flowing just the slightest bit in the breeze of the dreamy spring day. He wore a blue suit. A dark blue, three-piece suit with a dark blue shirt underneath it all to match. 

He was so handsome. Beyond stunning. The most immaculately created person. . .

He didn’t stay there for long before he was making his way toward you, striding as he naturally did. His walk, so smooth and sexy–always. 

As he came closer, you were learning that, in this realm, time moved just a tad bit different than normal. He seemed to make it over to you in less than a minute, even from the other end of the expansive field of light purple. 

Then, he was right beside you, lying down next to where you still sat next to him. He’d placed his left arm behind his head, to balance and lift himself a little. And, his left arm, spread out, ready for you to lay beside him. Lay with him. 

He didn’t say anything, but you knew that was what he wanted. You’d laid this way with him a million times before.

So, you moved to lay with him in a way that felt like coming home. You laid back, so comfortably relaxing your tired muscles as you placed a hand on his chest, and one side of your face against it. Curling your body into his, you laid one leg over his, your body facing toward him. Your bump was pressed snugly and safely against the side of his abdomen. Safe. 

Everything was safe here. Truly was the safest place your mind could conjure. You felt his steady breaths against the top of your head as you looked out past him, to the side of the field. Where the birds still chirped in the trees and the deer still meandered. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice equal with the breeze–quiet, calm. His breaths hit your head with each word, he was so near. . . but his words also echoed amongst the trees, all around you. 

Then, it was Gia’s voice you heard whisper through the trees. 

“You’ve found it, haven’t you? Your safe place,” she questioned knowingly, her tone lilted with excitement for you. 

Had you? 

Before you could consider it any longer, his hand came up to rest against your head, brushing so delicately through your loose strands of hair. Your body hummed, feeling one with the wind as he held you. Protected you. Stayed with you. Your body was telling you your answer in your curated fantasy, communicating it to your concrete form as you uttered it aloud.

“Yes,” you sighed, your body on the couch and still in Jake’s arms. You were vividly existing in your imagination and in reality all at once. This feeling would take some getting used to. While you were in shock, you were also not shocked at all. “Y-yes, I’ve found it.”

Jake . . . was he–? 

The lavender was glorious and the field you laid in, the soft ground, was better than any bed you’d ever graced. . . The deer were exquisite and lovely. The song of the birds, sounding like mystical, heavenly hymns. . . The sound of the trees brushing together in the warm breeze of the cool spring day, making their own music, and better than any white noise you’d ever experienced.

But Jake. . . None of those things even came close to the way you felt in his arms. The way you felt light as air and at ease the moment he’d graced your presence. You’d felt your peace and the baby’s when he’d graced the scene. Still did, as you melted into him, his breaths, his heartbeat, helping you feel free and firmly planted, one with all living things–all at once. There was no question that it was him. 

Jake was your safe place.

-🌼🌼🌼-

“Now, I want you to make sure you’re finding quiet time to locate your safe place,” Gia advised, getting up from her rolling chair as soon as you’d risen from the couch. “It’s essential to practice before the sessions. You want it to be an easy place to locate during the really hard resurgence of memories,” she coached you, pushing her chair to her desk. 

“Got it,” you agreed, head still swimming a little as you steadily came back to reality. The prospect of traveling to that place in your spare time was a little intimidating. . . But also very exciting. 

Seeing Jake so vividly in such a serene atmosphere on a regular basis sounded like paradise. You could definitely find time to practice that. 

“If you’re not opposed, I would maybe find someone to drive you to your sessions,” Gia suggested, going to clean the paddles with a spray and microfiber towel. You tuned back in, alertness settling in. “These sessions,” she made eye contact with you after bending over to grab her tube of Clorox wipes. “They are bound to be–no, they will be incredibly intense,” she used a towel she’d retrieved from the container to wipe it down. “Just someone you can trust to be there for you afterwards. . . so you’re not alone when you’re coming down from these memories that will present themselves again.”

Still smelling hints of lavender and feeling the warmth of a chest beneath you in some other heavenly reality, you knew who you’d pick. Was it a crazy idea? What did Gia think? Would she tell you her opinion or would you be forced to figure this out on your own? You didn’t want to seem crazy . . . . or weird.

You had just found your voice to respond when she started speaking again.

“Who do you think would be the best–?”

“I actually have an idea of who–.”

The way your chest bubbled with laughter alongside her was wonderful. It felt like the most genuine giggle you’d ever exuded. You truly felt like you were in a sphere of incomparable serenity. The way your body felt. . . you felt complete. You felt self-assured. Still smiling, you raised a brow and motioned one hand to emphasize that she should continue with her train of thought. Your other hand safely held your belly, right where your baby was resting in its safe cocoon. 

“You might not like it,” she grinned. 

Instantly, you knew who she was talking about. 

Gia sighed, settling the paddles securely back in their zipped black bag. Her eyes found yours, testing the waters. Then she offered her opinion in a firm tone, “Jake would be ideal. He would be my option,” she winked, encouraging.

Your chest exhaled in relief. You weren’t crazy. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Gia had sensed your unsureness as she walked you to the front desk. She was taller than you with a sort of swagger in her trendy set of corduroy overalls. 

Nerves were wracking you, sweat already pricking in your armpits. You’d voiced your concerns to her in her office to which she’d told you to follow her.So, you had.

And when you made it to the front ‘desk’ (a tall counter with a window in front of it), you linked your hands under your belly with a sigh. Gia stopped at the counter and leaned on the heavy, light gray granite–opposite of where you stood on your way to the door. She leveled you with a stare, her fingers tapping against the expensive granite. 

“I’m just going to tell you this,” she sighed, a tiny little grin on her full lips. “Be confident. Have confidence. You can do it. Just try it out. Seriously. All you have to do is give it a try. I see it in you, y/n,” she firmly stated. Then, she got even more serious with a furrow in her dark brown brow. “Let. Him. Care, y/n. Don’t you dare work to control him just because you feel like you don’t deserve it.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

So, when you got home, you somehow found it in you to take Gia’s advice . . . and you immediately went to talk to Jake. The more you contemplated it on the drive home, you realized you weren’t really too nervous to ask him anymore. . .

The nerves had dissipated little by little as you’d rehashed your time in your safe place. How seamless things had been there. . . it felt like before. Like normal. . . and even though it wasn’t your normal anymore, you were clinging to it. It was giving you courage. And the fact that Jake was literally your safe place was giving you courage. 

Yeah, he made you nervous because he was Jake, but he also eased you so effortlessly because he was Jake. He was safe. 

He wasn’t perfect, no. But, he was someone who was permanently, preciously ingrained in your heart. Today had officially proved that. And you were carrying the sweetest little piece of him. . . that helped the nerves for sure. There was a piece of him that was always with you. And now that he knew about said precious baby, things genuinely seemed to be normal between the two of you again. . . as normal as could be at the current time.

It had you knocking on his bedroom door. 

It dawned on you as you delivered the knock that you hadn’t even thought of checking his parking space to see if he was home.  You’d been too anxious to see him and ask him what you had been encouraged to ask. . . .Before you lost the magic courage. Because, yes, let’s be real, he still made you nervous as hell. He was Jake.

It was all confusing and weird. As you stood there, waiting for longer than you’d planned, you realized he might not even be home. You could be standing here waiting for nothing. Or worse, Maya was in there with him or some shit and you were going to open the door to–.

Jake.

The door had opened to show a very sleepy, very effortlessly handsome Jake. His hair was all tousled like he’d been in a deep slumber. And when you looked past him, his bed was a mess from a nap. . .but no curvy, beautiful woman occupied it. 

The only thing you saw laying in the bed was a book, right next to the fluffed pillow where his head had been resting. It was open, laying face down with several sticky notes peeking out of the pages. And all that you could make out was a picture of a pregnant woman on the cover and the word ‘Expecting’ on the cover before your attention was brought back to him talking.

“Y/n?. . . You okay?” He was talking, voice patient and calm, but sounding as though he’d said the words a time or two before you’d come back to. 

You were quick to cover your ass to hide that you had been spying in his room. 

“Sorry,” you shook your head, looking down and clasping your hands under your tummy subconsciously. His eyes followed your hands, a little smile forming on his lips. You continued, “I just wanted to ask you something.”

His eyes opened, as if waiting for what you wanted to ask. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “What’s that?”

You cleared your throat, suddenly a little nervous, but suddenly worked to picture him in the field of lavender. And then you were okay again. He was Jake. He was safe. “I–,” you glanced down, then back up to his kind, tired eyes. Just say it, y/n. “Would you mind going to a few of my therapy appointments with me?”

“Yes,” he replied, without any hesitation whatsoever. “Of course. Special ones or. . .?”

“All of them,” you blurted, needing to clear it up. Honesty. Just be honest. Don’t fear his reaction. He’s Jake. 

Eyebrows wrinkled, his lip quirked. “All of them. . .? Like, all of the special ones or–?”

“All of the appointments. Any of the appointments I have that you can make it to. I just need someone safe to go with me,” you rushed out. 

He blinked a few times, a gentle shake of his head before his eyes got sincere and a smile spread over his pretty lips. “And you chose me?”

“Yes,” you simply answered, not trusting yourself to say anything more. There was a definite part of you still reeling from today’s session and seeing him when you imagined somewhere safe. 

Standing there for a few seconds, you could tell he had a million questions floating through his mind. And, knowing him, you knew he was probably wondering why you hadn’t chosen Josh. And, to be totally truthful, you hadn’t once thought of Josh at the prospect of someone safe being there with you to see you through after the sessions. 

Jake seemed to be the only valid option. The only person you wanted to go with you. Even if Elsie were still living here, totally accessible and available, you knew Jake still would’ve been your first choice. The therapy had been his idea. He had asked you how it was going. He was someone you trusted to talk to, and he was someone invested in this with you. And he was him.

“I’d love that,” he responded softly. “When are the appointments?”

He’d love it? Your heart was thumping in your chest at the words. Absently, you thought of your poor heart monitor, and how it was going to be picking up some crazy data due to this man. 

“Every Monday,” you quietly responded. Then, you thought, before getting your hopes up, you’d better tell him what he was really in for. . . because he might end up eating his words once he found out his job in it all. “You’ll just have to wait for me. You could run an errand or two or whatever while I’m in my hour-long sessions. . . and sometimes they might go over.” He nodded, seeming fine with that. You were shocked. Didn’t know why you were shocked because he was naturally so thoughtful. You knew this. “And then, you’ll have to be there afterwards. And I might be emotional. This form of therapy is intense,” you explained. Then, you thought . . . “Well, you probably already know that because you. . .”

“Found it,” he finished, eyes twinkling. “I’d still love to go. You’re not going to scare me away from it. I know you’re afraid of that.”

Why the fuck did he even care to read you like a damned book? Surely your thought processes didn’t matter that much to him. But, you remembered his voice, reassuring you after Applebee’s. Cleaning up some toxic thoughts you’d let form.

“. . .I didn’t stop caring about you . . .” 

“. . .Just because I’m not talking to you or falling asleep next to you . . . It doesn’t mean I don’t still want what’s best for you. Hence why I’m the one who initiated the therapy conversation. I kept my end of the deal and researched for you because I care.”

Then, it was Gia’s voice. What she’d told you that day. . .just before you’d left.

“Let him care, y/n. Don’t work to control him just because you feel like you don’t deserve it.”

Let him care. 

You decided to just continue on with the only reasonable response, eyes, filling with tears, trained on your fidgeting feet. “Thank you,” the words came out as a whisper. But you shook your head. Confidence. Looking up, you tried again, smiling with your eyes. “Thank you.”

His eyes held yours for a moment. He just let his eyes sink into yours. . .like he’d done so many times before. Just as he had in times past, he was letting himself read you. You could tell. 

Not able to help it, your cheeks filled with heat at his stare. Your heart picked up speed. You had to speak again. Break the quietness. The calmness in his observant, knowing irises was too much.  

“Will Maya be okay with it?” 

Why you chose to break the ice with her, you didn’t know. Probably to get his mind off of you and back on her. Where you knew he wanted it to be. He might have still cared for you, but she was the woman he loved. To him, you were sure that she mattered in this just as much as you did.

He shut his eyes once briefly, and with a shake of his head, he was back. His eyebrows dipped, pursed his lips with a curt nod. “Oh, yeah. I’m sure,” he assured. He tightened his fingers against his biceps. You couldn’t help but watch his strong hand flex. “I’ll–um, I’ll just tell her when the appointments are so she knows I’m not available on those days.”

Shit. You didn’t want to take him away from her. You hadn’t even thought of that. That would definitely be selfish. And not available on those days? Like, not available at all? Was he planning on spending entire Mondays with you?

Hurriedly, you offered a response to make sure to clear the air. “Oh my god. I didn’t even think of you having to–,” you groaned. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t go with me if it’s going to interrupt your plans with her.”

His brows wrinkled. “I never said that.”

“It was implied,” you defended your thought process. 

“No, it wasn’t.”

You were suddenly irritated that he wasn’t understanding why you felt bad. “I just don’t want to be selfish, Jake. That’s all I’m saying. God.”

He rolled his eyes, hands getting stuffed in the pockets of the sweatpants he was wearing. You just realized how low they hung on his hips. You could see the very bottom of his stomach with the way he’d cut his t-shirt, just above the hip bones. You flicked your eyes back to his face when he spoke again. And, again, your face was hot. 

“I was literally saying I want to be there for you and I need to tell her that’s what I’m doing on those days,” he explained, tone sharp and patient all at once. He was putting his foot down.

You conceded. But. . . it made you think of something. Maybe it was the tan stomach of his skin and how badly you wanted to run your fingers across it. Or perhaps it was the fact that the woman in question might not be privy to one important detail. 

So, you asked. “Does she know I’m pregnant with your baby yet?”

His baby. 

You ignored the thought, instead training your mind on the serious matter at hand: would she be okay with it if she knew you were pregnant with his baby?

“No,” he curtly replied. Then, his tone was entirely calm when he stated, “She won’t know until you give me the okay to tell her. I told you that already.”

Flushing, you found his eyes. You tried your best to match the sincerity in his irises with your own. “Thank you for being considerate of that.”

“Of course,” his lips twitched to a small grin, then fell back to a purse. He chewed the inside of his cheek.

Fuck. You needed to wrap this up. You were wasting his time. But–you had to know. . . 

You cleared your throat, replacing your hands from below your tummy to cross under your boobs. The way his eyes flickered down with the action couldn’t be ignored and it gave you the push to ask. “. . .what does she know about us?”

“She knows you’re my friend and that we’re close because we live together,” he offered.

For some reason, the fact that he’d called you his friend made your heart leap into the bottom of your throat. It made you sort of sad, yet happy at the same time. Sad that you couldn’t be more, but glad that he was willing to call you such a wonderful thing. Did he seriously trust you to be his friend?

“We’re friends?” You shyly pondered. 

Aaand hormones were officially in control of your dialogue. It was time to wrap it up. Quick. You eyed the ground, embarrassed at your lack of control over questions.

But, his response was measured, so sweetly assuring you with his next words. His voice was soft and raspy, “I never wanted to not be your friend.” Then, suddenly, he was touching you. His hand was placed on your cheek, lifting your face gently to look into his eyes. There was no saving the response on the heart monitor data. And the swarm of buzzing butterflies in your tummy. You lost yourself in his gaze. “No matter what happens, you are my friend. I always want to be your friend, honey.” 

Honey. 

Your pulse increased tenfold and you couldn’t help the flutter of your lashes, your eyes watery yet again. 

His hand was still on your cheek, and a warm blush had settled in them when you mumbled, ashamed. “I hate you ditching your girlfriend for me. I don’t want to be selfish.”

A finger smoothed gently on your cheek, just beneath your lashes. “You’re not being selfish. And I’m not ditching her,” he removed his hand, and your heart sputtered a few times, trying to balance all of the emotions transpiring within you. He reached behind him, grabbing the handle of the door and shutting it behind him. When he moved forward with the motion, you stepped back. Didn’t want to risk getting too close. His eyes found yours as he consoled you. “Please quit thinking of it like that. I promised to be there–to help you–you a long time ago, and I intend to keep that promise. Let me.”

You were back in the hallway at your grandparents’ home. He was coming to sit next to you, against their beige, textured walls. The house, smelling like the pie that was baking. Familiar and safe. But the home had been the last thing making you feel safe in that moment. It was the man sitting next to you, telling you to let him help you.

“I want to help you. Let me.”

The same night he’d made the promise to find a therapist for you. Then, you were in his bed that night. . .Your cheek, on his damp chest.

 Tears were falling on his chest, your chest was tight as they kept coming, his skin prickling in their wake. “I–I’m sor–sorry.”

“Why, baby?” His voice settled your nerves. Warm. Soft. Him. 

“I hate that you have to see me cry,” you sniffled, wiping at the tears on his chest. But instead of letting you continue, he’d held your hand there, so you could feel the stable beat of his heart. 

“If crying is what it takes to heal, I’m here to listen to you as you wade through it.”

And, then, again. . . those same words filtered through your memory through a warm haze. 

Laying on top of him, in his bed, as you’d stared deeply into the darkness of his eyes, he’d earnestly spoken to you. “I want to help you. Let me.”

“Okay,” you sighed in the present time, your eyes not containing the pools accumulating in them, a singular tear falling down your cheek. 

Thankfully, it happened when he had decided to go back into his room to get something. And as soon as you’d brushed it away, he was back in front of you and had his phone in his hand. It was open, his fingers above the keyboard to show he was about to start typing. 

“What do you want me to tell her you need me for?” He looked up at you, hands steady around the phone as his eyes waited for you. His eyes, open and willing to help. Willing to understand. “I don’t have to tell her that it’s for therapy.”

“You can tell her it’s for therapy,” you responded. His brow raised, as if to ask ‘you sure?’, to which you responded, “I’m sure,” you grinned. Then, you continued on with what would be a valid excuse to give her for why you wanted him to go. “Just tell her you have to drive me to the appointments I have on those days because it’s a long drive that I don’t want to take by myself.”

His lips lifted easily, eyes tired, still, but wholly there with you to help. “Okay.”

As he typed, you stood there–so grateful for him. God, he was amazing. You could not believe there was ever a time you’d thought any different. Jake Kiszka. . . he was the man of fucking dreams. You knew he was. And you’d. . . let him go.

But, as you still believed, it was for good reason that you’d cut things off.

It kept lines drawn and clear and simple. Kept him focused on the dream. It just helped. Right?

Once he’d shoved the phone in his pocket and you’d heard the sending noise and the click of the phone going off, you decided to go ahead and let him be. You began walking to your room, and he started walking in the direction of the front of the apartment. Just as you’d opened your door, suddenly very sleepy and sore from your body growing a human, you spoke again. “Thank you, Jake.”

He turned as soon as you’d spoken, his gaze calm and falling on yours gently. His eyes felt like the breeze on a warm, spring day. The same sort of day you’d imagined in your safe place. 

“Don’t thank me,” he started. His phone chimed in his pocket, but he didn’t even reach for it. Instead, he crossed to you once more, your chest heating at him coming close again. And, once more, his hand reached up to delicately hold your face. The callouses that grazed your cheek brought so much comfort. They were familiar and felt like peace. “This is something I want to do. You don’t have to thank me.” 

Your mouth opened to dispute and as soon as you did, he saw it. 

At this, his lips lifted and he held your cheek fully in his palm, eyes boring into yours as he spoke. “Don’t argue with me. I mean every word. And you know it.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Life was finally feeling peaceful again with Jake back in it, and in the know about the baby. Having him as a friend in your life was filling your cup – just the mere knowledge of him being there made you rest easier. Every morning was the same. A comfortable, reassuring sort of same. 

You’d wake up, and lay in your bed for a few minutes, rubbing your belly. Checking the Ovia app to read something new about the baby to start the day, you’d also check the size of the baby on that given week for the 100th time on that given week. After clicking your phone off, you would lay there and ponder your day and everything that you had to do. 

And once your feet touched the ground, you were walking to grab underwear, a maternity bra (because, yes, you’d purchased one with the speed your boobs had grown). Then came the outfit you’d set out the night before. (Even though sometimes, there would be a last minute change in wardrobe due to day-to-day changes in your body – the insecurities were slowly becoming very real, the more your body changed. And even the teeniest, tiniest changes were strikingly obvious to you.) 

The bathroom was your next stop. You’d take off the heart monitor before your shower, brush your teeth, and in the shower, you would glance down at your belly, water washing over it, to reflect on the person inside of it and how he or she was growing. And these days, you spent a lot of time wondering if the baby was a he or she. . . Just as you’d lean towards one guess, you’d lean towards the other. On certain days, you would wash your hair and if it hadn’t been very long, you’d skip that step. 

Once finished with the shower, you’d observe yourself to see if any stretch marks had grown, and at this point, a few had shown up, so a special cream was one the way that would be added to your morning and nightly routine to help prevent those from sticking around. Now, all you did was brush your hair and usually put it in a claw clip to avoid sweating profusely by keeping it against your neck. Then, you’d replace the adhesive of your heart monitor and adjust it to track your heart rate. 

You were so ready to be done with the stupid fucking device. It was a pain for many reasons. . . and you just hated the way it looked on your chest. It was a huge blemish on your changing body. A body that you were already feeling insecure enough about, even without the monitor.

When you’d trail back to your bedroom after your shower, you finished out the routine by taking your prenatals, checking your hemoglobin (which was doing consistently well, relieving you every time you saw the numbers stay positive), and you would pop a PregEase into your mouth to chew. The chewable had helped drastically with your nausea, and you weren’t planning on stopping it any time soon.

Finally, you’d go to the kitchen counter after making a smoothie in your BlendJet, and sit there to sip it as you read through The Panic-Free Pregnancy, taking notes in a notebook you’d purchased solely for baby notes.

And, now, since Jake had found out, he’d greet you in the kitchen or on your way to the bathroom to shower and he’d check on the baby. Check on how you were feeling. It always made you blush with the fact that he cared to check in. It was just really fucking sweet of him. Showed his heart. Of course, it wasn’t for you, it was for the baby. But still. . . it made your heart skip a beat. 

The day before Thanksgiving was no different. Except, this morning, Jake stopped you just as you’d grabbed your backpack and opened the door to leave for school. 

“Hey,” he called out to you. Your phone buzzed in your black LuluLemon, slung across your chest. When you turned, he flashed his phone screen towards you briefly. “Josh just texted in the group chat and asked if it was okay for us to have Friendsgiving here like you usually do. Day after Thanksgiving. Want me to tell him it’s fine?”

“Of course,” you grinned, getting your phone out to see the text for yourself. But, as you did, you also saw you were cutting it close to make it to class on time. Grabbing your keys out of your bag, you quickly responded, opening the door wider, one foot out. “Just tell him yes.”

He began typing as you went to walk out, the Jetta gave its signature beep across the parking lot as you unlocked it. But just as you stepped out, you stopped. Fuck. You’d have to clean the place. 

Normally, it would be no big deal, but you were still working long hours and keeping up with several classes while also being pregnant. . . 

So, you stepped back into the apartment, hand still holding the door open. You glanced up at him, accepting your fate. “I'll probably be cleaning the apartment tonight. I don’t want to have to fight any real baby tiredness on top of any food baby tiredness tomorrow night. I already get sleepy at the end of Thanksgiving Day, and I’m sure it’ll just be worse this year with,” you pointed to your belly. 

His eyes twinkled, but he didn’t say anything. . .probably because you were rambling and he was annoyed by it.

You twisted the knob, needing to leave, but wanting to let him know, “You can find something to do tonight so you don’t have to be around me and my obsessive compulsive cleaning habits.” 

He raised a brow, placing his phone on the counter. “Would it be okay if I helped you clean?”

“Um,” you faltered, nervous of him seeing that cringeworthy side of you. “I get really intense when I clean for special events.”

“I’m sure,” he grinned, winking. Your tummy swarmed with butterflies at the gesture. He continued, “But I still want to help you. Will you let me?”

Let him.

“I get kind of scary.”

“I don’t care.”

You measured him with your eyes, contemplating. It wasn’t that you wouldn’t love his help. . . It would be fantastic to have someone help you. You just didn’t want to scare him away. 

You’re having his baby, y/n. Did you scare him away when he found out about that? Or did he want to help you then, too? And what about when he–?

“Sure,” you said, promptly cutting off the voice in your head. “You can help. I’m just warning you. My control issues are bound to go haywire when I deep clean.”

“For good reason,” he defended. “In that circumstance.”

Your lips raising into a soft smile couldn’t be stopped. “Thanks, Jake.”

The soft smile didn’t leave your face as you made the trek to your car. 

Then it all came crashing down when you passed Maya in all of her graceful, voluptuous beauty, right before you got to your car. Your outfit of a giant sweater and loose AE jeans suddenly paled in comparison to her sexy black pencil skirt and tight white button-up shirt. Her perfume, sweet and expensive, wafting off of her in waves as she passed by you with a smile and a quick wave. Then there was you: wearing your Bath and Body Works body spray that you got on sale for $5.95.

Her heels clicked past you as your old white Nikes caught a rock and almost made you trip, eliciting a weird noise from your mouth. Hand on the belly, you caught yourself – not so gracefully. When you looked behind you to see if she’d witnessed it, she was already knocking on the door of the apartment. . .and being greeted with a kiss from Jake. The smile was absolutely wiped off your face at the sight of that.

Of course, your mind traveled to a not-so-fun place as you buckled into your car and went to turn on your soul music playlist. You just sat there, contemplating once more how much it sucked that you couldn’t be with him. It was even more sad with your predicament – it made your heart jump into your throat that you couldn’t complete the natural circle of two parents with a baby.

The song that started off the playlist was perfect for bringing you out of your slump, though. The Commodores singing about being ”High On Sunshine” reminded you of how serene and peaceful you’d felt when you’d woken up. Life was going well. . .Truly, completely well. You didn’t need a relationship with Jake to complete a circle of sorts. . . Really. Especially at this point in your life.

You could be friends – it really wouldn’t be so bad. Just friends. You’d take what you could get. Things would be fine.

-🌼🌼🌼-

“I don’t mind you telling her now,” you mentioned that night, packing up a nice dinner he’d made after you’d cleaned the entire apartment. 

He’d made chicken fajitas. 

Considering the meal was a crowd favorite (the crowd being you and the baby), it had been wonderful when you’d found out tonight how damn good he was at making them. Although, saying that you were packing it up into leftover containers with him. . .was a lie. 

You were leaning against the ledge of the counter top, watching him put it in Tupperware. He’d told you to sit and rest your feet and that he would worry about putting it away. Only agreeing halfway, you sure rested but didn’t rest your feet like he’d asked. After quietly accepting the offer with a quiet okay, you nodded your head. Then, you went to stand against the counter. 

“Please. Sit.” He’d encouraged, his voice slightly impatient, already weary with you. By the look in his eyes, you knew that he knew it was no use and that you weren’t going to agree. “You had to go to school and workwork today. You should rest your feet.”

Even though your feet did hurt like hell, you still weren’t about to let him boss you around. 

“Nah, I think I’m good,” you replied, shrugging. You took turns balancing and bouncing between each foot, totally giving you away. “I sit around too much.”

“Y/n.”

“Jake.”

He’d given you a look. And you had stared right back until he gave up and rolled his eyes before going about his business. 

In the present time, he was once again peering at you. But this time, his eye brow was raised in curiosity. “What?” He asked, unsure.

“You can tell Maya if you want,” you repeated, your eyes encouraging. “Tell her that you’re having a baby,” you laughed under your breath at that. A piece of hair fell from its place behind your ear. “Or, I guess, if we’re being technical. . . That I’m having your baby.”

He didn’t laugh along with the funny wording, just continued looking at you like you’d grown three heads. 

“Why?”

You didn’t know. All you knew was that Maya wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. So, in order to save Jake some extra stress, he’d better tell her sooner rather than later. That was it. 

“Just want it to be out in the open,” you stated plainly, shrugging once more. “Josh is going to tell Sam and Daniel for me soon. . . Explain all of the nitty gritty details of us so I don’t have to again.”

His face sank momentarily. Though, it didn’t last long enough for you to be sure if it wasn’t something you’d imagined.

“On top of that, I’m telling my grandparents tomorrow, so you just go ahead and tell her,” you explained further, trying to convince him it was okay.

He blinked a few times, probably processing it all. And then he responded.

“Okay,” he finally said, lips making a lopsided grin, eyes still containing a sense of curiosity.

“Okay,” you echoed, suddenly feeling the reality of him telling her. . . the reality of Josh telling Sammy and Danny. . .

It was about to be out in the open. Everyone was about to know. Not counting the doctors or Gia, a tiny total of four people in your life knew. Only four. You, Elsie, Josh, and Jake. And now, that number was about to increase. And with your permission, no less. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 24, 2022

You were on your way to your grandparents’ house, Elsie being your chauffeur when you filled her in on all of the therapy appointments (though, not the person secured in your safe place), your heart monitor in all of its ridiculous, agonizing glory.

Then, the boys’ careers came up in conversation. The music. The albums. The photoshoots. You even told her about the fan who called Jake hot. And as she was laughing about the fan interaction, and how uncomfy she was sure it made you, you thought to text Jake something that needed to be said. Something you’d believed in with your whole heart since the beginning. His career. 

It was even more important to you now that you were going to have his baby. It had trailed through your mind enough times that you knew you needed to share it with him. 

You, 12:02 p.m.: Please don’t put your career on hold for me or the baby.

It took a few moments, when Elsie was in the middle of telling you that she wasn’t sure how she felt about other girls calling Josh hot. You were absently agreeing on not being sure about it when you got the notification of his response.

Jake, 12:05 p.m.: I won’t. I’ll figure it out. 

And while you were in the middle of having one hard conversation, you decided on another. Something that broke your heart to say, but you believed in it just like you did the other topic. It was going to be awkward to talk about in person, so you were going to be a coward and hide behind the phone to say it.

You, 12:06 p.m.: We also don’t need to be in a relationship.

After sending it, you instantly realized the perspiration that had gathered on your palms. Instead of talking to Elsie, you just stared at your phone. After finding out, he’d turned his read receipts on, so you were able to see the moment he’d seen the message. 

While cleaning the night before, you’d asked him about it and his response was that he had done it so there weren’t any holes in your communication about baby-related things.

Jake, 12:08 p.m.: Never said we did. I don’t need that.

I don’t need that.

Translated, you knew it was a way of saying it would cause unnecessary stress. And you’d be remiss to ignore that the stress would most definitely result from you and your stupid emotional instability. And that thought just reminded you that the baby was the most important person to work on being emotionally stable for–not its father. 

Nonetheless, his response hurt way more than it should have. It cut fucking deep. For no reason whatsoever, because you knew he had a point. You believed the same as he did. Your previous text said as much. You just had to think logically. 

Jake, 12:09 p.m.: 1, I’m already in a relationship

Jake, 12:09 p.m.: and 2, it’ll be easier for us because we won’t have to worry about a relationship. It’s good that we’re just friends.

He was right. He made sense. You knew it. It was good to be just friends.

You, 12:10 p.m.: You are very right. I’m glad we’re on the same page.

Jake, 12:10 p.m.: and as far as touring and the band goes, we can figure out how to handle a baby in all of it. We’ll just work in a few more breaks or something

Jake, 12:11 p.m.: don’t worry about that. We’ll be fine. 

Jake, 12:11 p.m.: and by “we” I mean you, me and the baby

Right as you’d pulled up to your grandparents’ home, you sent him a final text about it. If you were being totally honest, the conversation made you feel sick to your stomach and you just wanted to focus on the fact that it was Thanksgiving. 

There was also the fact that you were more than just a little nervous about rocking your grandparents’ entire world. 

You, 12:22 p.m.: Thank you for talking to me about this. We can talk about it more at some other point. Have a good Thanksgiving!

Instantly, he read it. But it took him a bit to respond. You knew he was busy with family and Maya. And again, your stomach was knotted at another thought. Her. Them. Dream couple.

Jake, 12:25 p.m.: for sure. We’ll find time :) 

Jake, 12:25 p.m.: happy thanksgiving, y/n. I’m thankful for you. I really hope you know that.

With that last text, your heart sped up, your monitor phone beeping repeatedly in your belt bag to notify you of it. As if you couldn’t already feel the way your heart was about to literally beat out of your chest at his words. You grumpily unzipped your bag to get it out, locking your phone on your lap.

“Holy shit, dude,” Elsie exclaimed as she shut off the car. “Are you okay?! What’s happening?!”

You reassured her that it was just your monitor telling you your heart rate had gone up. But you made an excuse for why. Didn’t want her on your ass.

“I’m just really nervous to tell Grandma and Grandpa,” you lied.

You didn’t have to wait long for it to stop beeping. Thank God. It was annoying as hell, calling you out when you did not want to be called out. Finally, it turned off, though.

Elsie’s eyes became sympathetic, her delicate hand coming out to squeeze your sweater-clad arm. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be there the whole time. Deep breaths,” she calmly assured, taking a few with you. “And they’ll honestly just be really excited. Grandma, immediately. . . but Grandpa. . .”

“. . .Might take him a while,” you finished.

Your Grandma wasn’t necessarily your greatest worry, but she had been known to judge a time or two. . . Your Grandpa on the other hand. . . he was in a constant state of disappointment. All in all, you really had no fucking clue what to expect. Within seconds, the two of you were busting up at the thought. He was a pain in the ass. The definition of a crotchety old man. Laughing with Elsie was therapeutic. And this laughter in particular was incredibly necessary.

She waited for you to feel calm enough to go inside, and once you did, you got out to follow Elsie to the door. You never responded to the text. Didn’t even react to it with an exclamation, thumb, or heart. You didn’t want to mess anything up. 

So, you just let it be your last positive push before going inside your grandparents’. Because, while it hadn’t been the reason to make your monitor go batshit crazy, it was still incredibly nerve wracking to tell the people that raised you. The idea of telling them that you were pregnant by a man you weren’t in a relationship with. . . yeah.

You closed your eyes momentarily to locate your Safe Place. You’d gotten quite good at finding it. All you had to do was close your eyes and call it. But as Elsie unlocked the door to let the two of you in, the present time was unkindly welcoming you back in with anxious arms. 

Deep. Fucking. Breaths.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Thanksgiving was one of your favorite holidays. Christmas was your absolute favorite, but Thanksgiving was right up there, just behind it. 

For one, it meant your whole family got to be together for a holiday, and you loved getting to spend time with your family. It felt more special than just about anything else. . . and Thanksgiving was so great because it was just a day where you sat around, eating food, being with each other, talking and laughing. It was a holiday meant to force you to ruminate on why you were thankful for each other– a holiday that was designed to bring out the best in a person.

The hope that your grandparents would only have love in their hearts when they heard your news was the only thing that had pulled you and your nerves through the doorway. The same doorway you’d entered through a million and one times before. Except this time, someone else was entering with you. Your hand touched subconsciously to your rounded belly. There was nothing you could do about your predicament now, so you could only hope for the best responses they could muster.

As you walked in, the smell of your Grandma’s ever-famous smoked turkey flooded your senses, momentarily calming you. It reminded you of the main reason Thanksgiving and Christmas were your favorite holidays. They’d been that way for years–as long as you could remember. Her turkey was an absolute favorite of yours dating all the way back to your childhood. Cooking was her love language, and you first learned that before you ever went to live with your grandparents. You could remember loving it and finding solace in the taste of her full, home cooked meal on the rare occasion that your mom decided to celebrate the holidays with her parents. 

The taste and aroma of your Grandmother’s food represented peace for you–especially her holiday food. Holidays were special because they were the only time you were ever able to escape your mother and the now-hazy situations she’d put you in for the first ten years of your life. And then, when you’d gone to live with them, you’d finally found safety and security. . . The taste of her food had just continued its pattern of bringing you the feeling of comfort.

The times your mom would tote you and Elsie over state lines to see them were always very special. They were bittersweet memories for you. It was the only way you’d been able to see your grandparents then, as she never made them privy to your changing living locations. The three of you were always on the move. Never in one place for too long. But every home was dirtier than the last, a new man who would occupy it, as if anxiously anticipating your arrival.

You shook your head at those times–didn’t want to think about it for too long. Those thoughts led down dangerous, terrifying, dark paths that you didn’t want to experience on a day like today. Those times were the ones you’d explore in EMDR with a licensed professional at the ready to help guide you. 

You’d decided years ago that you weren’t going to venture down those paths alone. Didn’t want to bother Elsie, so instead, you’d instead pushed the memories away to near nonexistence. And. . . today was not the day you planned to change that. You wanted Gia with you for that, thank you very much. 

As you walked closer to the kitchen, you heard the sounds of your grandparents’ laughter, sounding so much like you were used to. . . You could only hope and pray to everything that it would continue on as normal—as normal as it could be—after they found out your big news. 

The warm hugs and expressions of joy that greeted you as the two of you rounded the corner were both a reassurance and an added stressor to your shaky nerves. You really didn’t want to shake their world too much. . . Didn’t want this to change. This was your first true home. They were your first people.

The people who took you and your sister in when you had no one else, the ones who raised you, showed you love when it felt your entire world lacked it. You couldn’t quite rid the apprehension to tell them. You would not be able to until the news officially left your mouth. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

“I’m pregnant.”

The sound of forks clinking against plates and the deafening sound of silence surrounded the entire dining room. You weren’t sure where the fuck it had come from–why you’d chosen to say it when you did. . . but there was no doubt it was out now. No questions were asked. Not yet. All eyes in the room, trained on you. Everyone sat still, totally unmoving and in total shock. 

Thankfully, only a few moments of it had to pass before your sister broke the silence. She was trying to buy some peace for you. Just as much as you, she was not a fan of awkward silence or tension.

“I, for one, am so, so excited,” Elsie beamed, looking back and forth between your grandparents, whose mouths were still clamped shut. “It’s going to be wonderful–the sweetest addition to this family!”

After only a few seconds of Elsie’s attempt to ease the air, your Grandma started blinking and you soon realized that she was blinking back tears. Oh no. . . was she upset? Disappointed? The woman who raised you so well – loved you better than anyone ever had before, who took you in when no one else wanted you. . . She didn’t need to sit there feeling any negative emotions only because of your careless decision. Just like she’d done for you, you needed to comfort her in this moment of unclarity. 

You went to rise from your seat, beginning an explanation you weren’t quite sure of yet once you were standing. “Grandma, I–.”

“Babygirl!” Your Grandmother exclaimed, bursting into tears. And before you could make it from where you stood beside your floral padded chair, she was walking to you – as fast as her frail legs could carry her. Even though you watched her every move, the feeling of her arms wrapping around you came before you expected it to. “We couldn’t be happier. I don’t even have to look at your Grandfather to know he’s as ecstatic as me. I know he loves you just like I do,” she sighed, squeezing you gently. Her shaky, familiar voice spoke softly in your ear, “A baby is the greatest gift – especially if it’s one of my babies’ babies.”

You blinked back all of the emotion that nestled comfortably into your bones. The distinct, wistfully familiar notes of Chanel No. 5 wrapped around you as tight as her arms. And, suddenly, the scent had you back in a mirage of memories where she was holding you just the same. 

The first time a boy had broken your heart at thirteen years old. When you fell off your bike the month after you moved in with them, crying more over your mother than the bike wreck. Anytime you and Elsie got into some asinine bickering match that only your Grandmother could settle. . . So many times she’d held you just like this. Except this time, you felt it differently, gripped closer to her, not ready to let go. . . you’d needed this so badly. Hadn’t even realized just how badly you needed to feel her hold you after finding this out. 

You sniffed, finally letting yourself part from her. She wasn’t going to be the first to let go, so you made the move. “Grandma,” you looked directly into her eyes, getting lost in the aging, watery icy blue irises. “Your approval – and Grandpa’s,” you glanced at him briefly, a small smile on his face as he watched you. Your heart leapt. “It meant more to me than anyone else’s.” 

Elsie huffed and made a noise. Your Grandma giggled at Elsie’s indignance. You rolled your eyes, turning to your sister for a split second to give her a look, then faced the aging woman once more. “Almost anyone else’s. I was just scared to let you down, although I. . .,” you paused momentarily, blinking back tears as her perfume infiltrated your senses once more as she pushed some hair delicately behind your ear. “I should have known better than that.”

“My precious babygirl, there is nothing you could ever do that would make us think less of you,” she insisted, bringing her hand down to your arm, softly soothing circles into your flesh through your sweater. “Not only have we told you that your entire life, but I could only hope we have been able to show it to you. Just how much you mean and how we are always on your side – no matter what.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

The rest of the dinner and dessert went on about the same, with your Grandpa actually receiving the news very well–only grumbling slightly at the idea of the father not being around.

To which Elsie had quickly defended with a correction, pointed straight at your Grandfather, her eyes glued to him. “Don’t be so quick to make assumptions, Grandpa.”

You’d joined in, too, not wanting her to have to approach that on her own. It wasn’t her responsibility to have to make any reassurances for your mindless decision. 

“He is in the picture, Grandpa,” you assured, swallowing your bite of pumpkin pie. Your eyes linked with his, begging him to understand. “I never said he wasn’t. I only said that I didn’t want to tell you who he is yet.”

After that, he’d simmered down on the father subject enough for dessert to finish up. And, as Elsie and your Grandma went to put away leftovers, you led the way to the living room to set up A Christmas Story. It was a Thanksgiving tradition to watch it after stuffing your faces to the point of exhaustion. 

Just as you’d gotten the movie queued up, you heard his telling sigh behind you. His years-old maroon, fabric recliner, moaning with the sudden weight of a person. You gave him the slightest smile, still unsure of how to act around him as he’d been supportive, just quiet about it. 

His reaction could definitely be expected, but you didn’t want it. You just wanted him to not act crotchety, just this once. Problem was, you were kind of stuck on what to say. So, instead of saying anything to initiate conversation, you sat on your phone, checking Instagram stories. 

So many fucking coupley photos with the most generic captions. But, to your complete relief, nothing had yet been posted by Jake or Maya (yes, you followed her now–for no other reason but to torture yourself). Just as you were about to check your Ovia app for the second time that day, you heard your Grandpa clear his throat. 

You just acted oblivious, though, not wanting to look up unless he actually wanted to talk. Didn’t want to push him or anything. . . poke the bear. 

“Sugarplum,” he started, using the nickname he’d penned for you years ago. 

Your heart lightened at the nickname. Anytime he used it, you knew he was about to say something sweet and slightly outside of his comfort zone. And by that, it meant he was going to say something particularly tender and sweet. Two things he was not used to being. . . Save for the heart he’d had when he started using the nickname. It had come at a sensitive time. 

The nickname came from a precious tradition. After you’d come to live with them, he’d started the tradition. The man had been determined to make you and your sister feel better, and he’d always been better with actions than words. So, the year your sister and you had come to live with them, he’d started taking you to the Nutcracker. It was a whole thing. 

Every Christmas season, your family of four would get all dolled up (you and Elsie, having had matching Christmas dresses and ringlet curls–hair-sprayed to the point of crunchy– the first couple of years). Then, you’d go eat at Carmine’s before attending a performance of the Nutcracker ballet – always at David H. Koch Theater. 

You weren’t sure what he was about to say, but the nickname always meant it was going to be rather softhearted.

“Sweetie,” he sighed. You looked at him, seeing every wrinkle and age spot on his worn features. His face held every ounce of compassion you were sure he could muster. Your eyes already teary at the cold, snowy memories you’d just re-lived, and seeing him in such a vulnerable state had you gasp just slightly. “I love this baby. I love you. And I am so happy for you–overjoyed,” he said, singing it in the tone of the Stevie Wonder tune. You gasped on another breath, a tear springing from your eye to cheek. “Very, very much so, honey.”

“Really?” You couldn’t help but mutter.

“With all my heart I mean it,” he confirmed, eyes crinkling at the edges with a smile in them. “I only get short-tempered about the father because I don’t want to witness the child being abandoned or betrayed by men the way you and Elsie–,” he shook his head, draining a thought he was in the middle of. He grunted, eyes glassy when he looked at you again. “I don’t need this baby’s father being absent like yours was, is all. I get infinitely resentful on the subject of the people who did you and your sister wrong. . . and I just can’t have that for my great-grandchild either.”

There was no response you could possibly give save for the intermittent sniffles that accompanied the tears that wetted your cheeks. So, all you did was nod, a shaky smile on your lips. The man deeply loved you. You knew that. But, it made your heart hurt in a strange way when he’d say things that truly proved it. . . since he so rarely did. The baby must have meant a lot to him already, for him to feel so inclined to bare his heart like this. 

“I love that child and I will protect it in my role as long as I can,” he said, his own voice wobbling on the words. “I promise you, Sugarplum. Just like I did for you and your sister.”

After a couple of moments, you found something to say, out of the mess of emotions hugging your heart. 

“This baby’s father will be nothing like ours,” you said, without a doubt. You barely remembered the man who’d helped make the two of you. He hadn’t ever really been around–a sperm donor at best. “He’s an incredible man. The baby is very lucky to have him.”

The words pinched your chest, your stomach twisting tight on what you’d said. . . Jake was so wonderful. Even if he didn’t want you, he wanted the baby. You knew that. You knew it. You had seen it in his eyes the moment you’d said the baby was his. Jake Kiszka was special and you were glad your baby would be part of him–was already part of him. You were glad the baby had him.

You just weren’t ready to tell your grandparents it was him. . . you didn’t want either of them to unrightfully judge Jake if they were to know. Especially your Grandfather. . . they’d had such an honest, genuine connection. It had been magical to witness. Jake, having been the person to bring the old man out of his shell for the first time in your entire life. 

You knew you had to tell them soon, but it just didn’t feel like the right time quite yet. . . There was so much going on already. The two of them finding out the identity of the baby’s father could wait just a little longer. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

You got home around eleven o’clock that night, after taking Elsie to Josh’s. The night had been exactly what your soul needed. Time with your Grandma and Grandpa, as well as a car jam session with Elsie on the way to her boyfriend’s apartment. 

The reason you’d finished so late was because your grandparents hadn’t really wanted the night to end. After sitting through every end credit of A Christmas Story, you’d rented the brand new A Christmas Story Christmas on the Roku TV you’d Christmas-gifted the two elderly people a year ago. 

Although, you hadn’t ended up paying much attention to the movie since your grandparents had been determined to hear all about Elsie’s travels and your current. . . predicament. They had also questioned you about school.

Thankfully, you’d given a few barely-there answers and the conversation had basically concluded on that subject. There hadn’t even been an onslaught of career-based questions. All of the baby-related inquiries had been a good distraction from that. 

They’d even stayed up past their bedtime of nine o’clock, aiming to hear every last detail of your life and Elsie’s. But, there’d come a point that your Grandpa had fallen asleep as he’d tuned out, signaling the end of the evening. 

So, at 11:00, you were finally pulling in to the apartment complex, safe and sound into your designated parking spot. Jake’s car was where he usually parked it, you noticed. But, you already knew he was home. He’d texted about an hour back asking when you’d be home, to which you’d responded with an I don’t know, a little flutter in your tummy as you typed. 

Even though he hadn’t responded, it didn’t crush you. Truly. You were becoming accustomed to your present relationship with him. . . well. . . .at least you were really trying to become accustomed.

On the way up to the apartment, you barely made the last step with how utterly exhausted you were. The act of carrying a child was not easy work and honestly, your grandparents hadn’t been the only ones staying up past their bedtime. You’d kept the heavy-lidded blinking at bay at your childhood home, but as you unlocked the door, you let out a long yawn which felt like it’d been waiting for hours to be released. Because it had been. You hadn’t wanted to be rude while engaging in conversation. Felt so relaxing and the action in and of itself had totally drained you. Your comfy, cozy bed was calling you.

When you entered the apartment, you were assaulted by the wondrous smells of something sweet and sugary–the scent was closely comparable to cake or cupcakes. You almost let your nose drag you to the source, but when you looked into the kitchen on your trek to your bedroom, you hastily decided against that idea. And you suddenly felt like you were going to profusely vomit. 

Jake, with his back facing you as he leaned against the kitchen island, his fingers grasping at nothing, only gripping what he could of the counter his ass was pressing against. His beautiful locks of hair were all stringy and messy–the telling sign of hands having been run through it. His moans were enough to make you grow chills from both distaste and lust. The sound of him reaching his release was unlike any other. . . 

But the infuriating fact that it was coming from the tanned, curvaceous woman on her knees in front of him. Who, unfortunately, you could see from the side of the island. And to make matters worse, she was barely fucking clothed. A tiny sheer dress of black lingerie, the only thing you could see from your vantage point. She had her free hand bunched into the material at the back of his gray t-shirt, holding onto him for dear fucking life as she went to town.

When the bile rose to your throat, you knew you had to get away before you threw up. You did not want to puke up any Thanksgiving food, thank you very much. Couldn’t ruin the sentimental dishes only because of Jake and his frustratingly beautiful girlfriend. 

To your relief, once you made it to your room, quiet as a mouse, you found your Stanley as cold as you’d left it (praises-fucking-be for Stanley insulation). And you didn’t have to force sleep after you’d taken a quick makeup wipe to your face and put on an oversized Pratt t-shirt. 

The moans and groans and whiny-fucking-sighs from the kitchen faded out in no time as sleep almost instantly found you. 

Thank fucking God for the tiredness that came with making a human. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: see you tomorrow w part 2... Friendsgiving will kick off pt 2... there is so much to come ;)

ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts! love youuuu <3

& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)

Taglist: @joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssoloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend, @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98

(and, due to t*mblr’s shitass guidelines, i will be adding the other tags in a reblog of the story!)

[delirious-donna]

Kinktober Masterlist

The time has come for the masterlist to be revealed, along with the posting order! What started out as daring to brave 16 days, so half the month, has evolved into a full-blown month of content! Am I crazy? Yes, the answer is yes...

The event is for 18+ readers only, minors and ageless blogs please do not interact! Given the event and time of year, there will some darker content than I normally dabble in, proceed with care (warnings will be available on each post)

There is an event-specific taglist form, it can be found here.

The fandoms included are Naruto, Black Clover, Jujutsu Kaisen, Tokyo Revengers, Bleach, MHA & Fairy Tail.

Please consider reblogging, the biggest of cuddles to those who do! ^^

oct. 1: Tempting the Babysitter

Dry Humping - Itachi Uchiha x female reader The kids are asleep and the house is quiet. Now would be the perfect time for your boyfriend to swing by, right?

oct. 2: Handprints

Spanking/Brat Taming - Gojo Satoru x female reader You've tested his patience all day long, are you surprised he finally snapped? Gojo won't be happy until his handprint is emblazoned on your butt.

oct. 3: An Improper Bet

Breeding - Nozel Silva x female reader Nozel's rivalry with Fuegoleon takes an improper turn when the Crimson Lions' captain declares he will have a child first. Nozel is determined to prove him wrong, will you help?

oct. 4: Let Me Draw You A Map

Body Worship - Kakucho x female reader A moment of self-doubt has Kakucho determined to show you exactly what he loves about you.

oct. 5: Keep Me Warm

Cockwarming - Kakashi Hatake x female reader An intimate camping trip turns unseasonably colder than expected, it'll be up to Kakashi to keep you warm right through 'til morning.

oct. 6: Shall I Tell You A Tale?

Dirty Talk - Licht x female reader Awoken by a nightmare in the dead of night, your beloved Licht won't let you suffer. Settle in for a delightfully lewd story that might require some audience participation...

oct. 7: A Dreamer's Delight

Somnophilia - Sasuke Uchiha x female reader He shouldn't be doing this, should he? Sasuke can't help but be tempted to bring you to orgasm before your eyelids flutter open. Will he succeed?

oct. 8: Purr For Me

Praise - Nanami Kento x female reader Nanami finds it so adorable when you look at him with those big, shiny doe eyes. Has he noticed that you do it more when he sings your praises? Oh yes, and he plans to make you purr for him.

oct. 9: The Will Of A Lioness

Edging/Orgasm Denial - Mereoleona Vermillion x female reader You might be the favoured plaything of the eldest Vermillion, but that doesn't mean she is going to go easy on you. So you want to make things more exclusive, huh? Can you hang on to your orgasm long enough to ensure she agrees?

oct. 10: The Longest Wait (Celebrating the return of Bleach!!)

Facesitting - Ichigo Kurosaki x female reader Ten years have passed since you started dating Ichigo, and every year he tries to convince you to perch yourself upon his handsome face. A decade is long enough to make a man wait, so tonight is his lucky night!

oct. 11: Ride Of Your Life

Bike Sex - Draken x female reader What begins as a romantic road trip, takes a kinky twist when you find yourself pressing closer to Draken's back. Will he make it to the picnic area before his desire runs rampant?

oct. 12: All The Better To Eat You!

Size - Kiba Inuzuka x female reader Giant-sized palms, towering height, the longest incisors you've ever seen on a human and that's all before heading below the waist. Is Kiba more wolfman than human?

oct. 13: The Most Delicious Tears

Overstimulation/Dacryphilia - Sting Eucliffe x female reader He just wants to spoil you rotten, that it's enough to make you cry? All the better. Sting is going to lick away those tasty tears, but he's not gonna stop...

oct. 14: The Darkest Reflection

Mirror Sex - Megumi Fushiguro x female reader Desperate for your loving boyfriend to be just a bit rougher in bed, be careful what you wish for... Megumi will be as rough as you'd like and he'll make you watch every intimate act in startling clarity.

oct. 15: A Public Performance (Julius' Birthday!)

Exhibitionism - Julius Novachrono x female reader A certain Wizard King thinks he can evade his own birthday celebrations, but little does he know that you are already onto his plans and will track him down at all costs. You'll give him his birthday kiss and more, even if it's out in public!

oct. 16: The First Bite Is The Deepest (Kiri’s Birthday!)

Biting - Eijirou Kirishima x female reader You can't help but admire your boyfriend's deadly sharp teeth. He has lost count of the times he has told you off for dragging your tongue across them... but now, finally, Kiri agrees to bite you properly.

oct. 17: Adorned By Lace And Shadows

Lingerie - Shikamaru Nara x female reader It's been some time since your man indulged you in anything more than a quickie. What better way to tempt the lazy genius than with some new - and highly revealing - lingerie. Will he bite?

oct. 18: An Extra Session

Corruption - Geto Suguru x female reader Your psychiatrist is always so kind and accommodating, does he treat all his patients this well? The answer is no. You're special and Dr Geto is going to use all your weaknesses to his advantage...

oct. 19: Scandalous Behaviour

Breeding - Fuegoleon Vermillion x female reader You've heard rumours that Nozel Silva is trying desperately for a baby, and apparently, it's because of a silly bet. Your darling Fue would never stoop to such scandalous behaviour... or would he?

oct. 20: A Bound Offering

Bondage - Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x female reader Selected as a fitting tribute to the monstrous man that protects your village and surrounding lands, you expect to meet your end. What might happen if he takes a liking to your innocence? He especially likes you bound and at his mercy... does he have any?

oct. 21: Love Hurts

Degradation - Mikey (Bonten) x female reader Your boyfriend was the most loving man, most of the time, but sometimes he was the meanest person walking this Earth and he was going to make you cry from the venom he'd spout.

oct. 22: Turning The Tables

Handcuffs - Gojo Satoru x female reader A kinky present bought as a joke shift into a weapon when you turn the tables and tie the most powerful sorcerer in the world to your headboard. Gojo Satoru at your mercy? Better make the most of it!

oct. 23: Dance My Pretty

Puppet Strings/Dub Con - Kankuro x female reader You've always found Kankuro's chakra threads abilities fascinating, but will it be as interesting when he decides to utilise them on you? What might he make you do against your will?

oct. 24: A Misuse Of Magic

Double Penetration - William Vangeance x female reader Magic should be used to protect the Clover Kingdom and its people. It certainly shouldn't be used to try something new in the bedroom, but can you deny the way your heart races as branches twist around your thigh?

oct. 25: Show Me That Tongue

Face Fucking - Toji Fushiguro x female reader Toji has a debt to collect and you just happen to be along for the ride as his new partner. He has no need for a partner, not unless you plan on putting that smartass mouth to better use?

oct. 26: What Did You Call Me?

Daddy - Gaara x female reader A moment of passion turns into something dark and twisted when you let slip a new pet name. Rather than be repulsed, it strikes a match against a primal part of Gaara's soul.

oct. 27: Dance On My Lap, Doll (Hanma’s Birthday!)

Thigh Riding - Hanma x female reader A birthday trip to a lap dancing bar takes an unexpected turn when Hanma's sights fall squarely on the most innocent-looking girl in the joint, and she sure ain't a lap dancer...

oct. 28: Popping “That” Cherry

Anal - Kakashi Hatake x female reader You want to try something new, but what? When Kakashi suggests anal, you can't help but blush, prompting your horny fella to realise that you've never popped that cherry. Why is he smiling at you like that?

oct. 29: Breaking The Contract

Age Gap - Nanami Kento x female reader Your sugar daddy Nanami is the most attentive man you've ever spent time with. The fact that he is extremely well endowed and as handsome as a chiselled sculpture is merely an extra bonus. Perhaps it's time to rip up your contract?

oct. 30: Taking The Lead

Pegging - Itachi Uchiha x female reader An accidental finger slip clues you into the fact that your darling husband likes his butt being fingered. Poor Itachi is embarrassed yet he has nothing to be ashamed of and you're going to prove that...

oct. 31: Stalked By Night

CNC - Ran & Rindou Haitani x female reader You've always been warned against walking the streets at night alone, but you never expected that you would be abducted by two of the most wanted criminals in the country. What do they plan to do with you?

[mariel-g]

Chemistry Homework?

Very self indulgent switch fem reader <3

MINORS U SILLY GALS, DO NOT INTERACT

You sigh as you stare at Jotaro Kujo’s profile, silently fanning yourself with your hand while the idle chatter of your chemistry teacher fades into the background. Jotaro Kujo is...well, he’s not the friendliest of people. Whenever you have tried to talk to him he blatantly ignored you, so you quickly learned to stop trying. 

As your thoughts drift away, his elegant side profile turned, revealing his full face in it’s glory. Startled, you jerk away and accidentally knock over a bottle of HCL with your elbow. 

“Oh! I am so sorry, here.” You mutter, frantically grabbing at a stack of tissues nearby and patting it over Jotaro’s thigh “Um, are you alright? Like, it didnt burn or anything, right?” 

You briefly close your eyes in disbelief, why the fuck did you say that? 

His large palm suddenly engulfs your hand, ceasing the frantic drying of his leg. “The dosage of true hydrochloric acid in the bottle would be too low to burn me, I’d think you’d know that already if you take this class.” 

Despite the harsh words, it was truly the first time you’d ever heard his voice. It was deep and velvety and honestly quite a turn on. Although his tone was biting and full of contempt, it sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. 

The noise of irritation he makes at the back of his throat makes your eyes fly up from his leg, settling on tracing the lines of his adams apple and defined neck before slowly meeting his eyes. When you meet them, the glare he pins you with makes you shrink back, only stopped by his hand that is still tightly clasped over yours. 

“Yes I know, I just was overly concerned, forgot the basics of chemistry haha...my apologies” you say weakly. 

“Get off me” he snarls. 

His leg starts to shake, from anger no doubt, and a sick sense of satisfaction runs through you, letting such an inconsiqentuial accident affect his mood so much is ridiculous. But then again, he always acts like a bandit pisses in his coffee each morning. 

“You’re still holding my hand” 

At that his thigh seemed to flex and harden underneath your finger tips and your fingers gave an involuntary squeeze back. His whole body goes completely rigid and he bites his lip as if in pain. Oh my god...was that his dick...? No, right?

Both of you sat completely still when the teacher suddenly addressed the both of you. “Jotaro and y/n, please clean up the mess, you should’ve told me if you wanted more tissues.” 

Jotaro’s eyes bore into you and he gives you a look of pure disgust before snatching his hand away from yours as if burnt. Despite of the rollercoaster of things that just happened you still had some scraps of your pride left, and you gave him the nastiest look you could muster before abruptly standing up. 

“Miss, may I please go clean the acid off?” 

“Yes you may y/n, I’ll clean the table myself dont worry” The teacher then glanced at Jotaro “You should go clean the HCL off yourself as well Jotaro, the dosage is low but it could still burn if left on the skin for too long.” 

You gave Jotaro a smug ‘I told you so’ look before traipsing out of class. Fervently trying to forget the heat emenating from the shape that was pressed against your hand as you cleaned. 

Ever since that day, you and Jotaro would bicker and annoy eachother to no end. You were fairly sure he hated you and the hatred is definitely mutual. After seeing him more often you realised that around everyone else he was generally pleasant if not quiet, it seemed that it was only around you where another side was brought out of him. You huffed a small laugh, you tend to have that effect on people. 

“What are you laughing at?” 

“Nothing really” you sighed. You tilted your head back and moaned softly. God, the feel of his pouty lips making love to your neck was heaven. 

He was on his knees in front of you as you sat on the side of the library’s setee, your leg on either side of him as his face nestled in your collarbone. (Mate, look he’s 6′5 just imagine that the setee is really low)

His tongue lazily swept across your pulse before suckling on it. “We should finish our chemistry homework.” 

You nodded airily in agreement. “We should.” 

Slowly, you brought one of your legs to rest between his thighs, allowing the base of your shin to softly rub against his hardened cock. He groaned softly, moving his hands braced on either side of the setee to wrap around the small of your back. 

“Don’t tell me you got hard just from kissing my neck?” You asked incredulously, stilling the languid movement of your shin against his dick. 

“I get hard just from looking at you” He said in a whisper “Keep rubbing my cock.”

At his crass wording your cheeks burst aflame with embarrassment, but you continued to pleasure him, delighting in the soft moans and groans that escaped from his mouth when you put more pressure on his member. 

“You should say please” 

“Why should I?”

“Because,” you completely stopped your ministrations on his dick “otherwise I’ll do this.” 

His jaw clenched in irritation and his full lips silently formed the word “bitch.” 

“If you still want to finish our homework it’s fine” you said breezily, making a show of repositoning the collar of your shirt and rebuttoning a few buttons.

“Wait,” He visibly swallowed a ball of irritation “keep rubbing my cock...please.” His adams apple bobbed. “And let me see you, all of you, please.” 

Satisfaction and a heady rush of power filled you. You’re able to make this proud man beg. 

“I enjoy having you on your knees in front of me” you whisper, heeding his request as you slowly unbutton enough buttons for your bra to be completely exposed to him. 

His hand cups your breast and squeezes hard, his thumb roughly rubbing over the nipple through the fabric of the bra. You let out a small yelp and narrow your eyes at him when he smirks. Payback I guess. 

He leans forward and nips your ear “And i enjoy being on my knees for you as well, let me make you cum.” 

Fuck. An ache setlles between your legs as your pussy desperately tries to clench around nothing. “Yes,” you say breathlessly “But we need to be quiet.”

The corner of the library you guys are in is uninhabited, but the whole establishment is not completely void of people. 

He kissed the tops of your breasts and slowly took off your bra, savouring every inch of naked skin that was revealed to him. When your chest was fully exposed, he moaned in satisfaction. 

“y/n, they’re perfect.” 

His lips instantly descended upon your nipple as the other hand massaged and played with your breast. You gasped at the feeling of his tongue circling around one of your nipples while his hand pinched and rubbed and squeezed the other. 

“Oh fuck” you panted, feeling euphoria wash over you as he continued to lavish equal attention upon both of your breasts before releasing them with a pop.

“Spread your legs”

You rose your eyebrow at his demanding tone, but complied, cautiously spreading your legs as he flipped up your skirt. 

“Fuck princess, is that spiderman underwear?” The side of his mouth was twitching as if he was trying painfully hard not to burst out laughing. 

You glared at him, “Do you want to see my pussy or not?” 

In response he pulled your knickers to the side and began rubbing your clit with his thumb in a smooth circular motion, his mouth parted in a moan when he saw how wet you became from his light touch against your clit.

“Your pussy is so beautiful” he murmured. “Can I put my fingers inside?” 

In response your loins clenched and you bucked your hips. “Fuck yes, and press harder on my clit.” 

“Your wish is my command mistress” he said sardonically, increasing the pressure on your clit to the point it nearly hurt. 

Slowly, he pressed one of his fingers into your opening and your toes curled. His thick finger stretched you out so good it made you moan, and your head lolled down to watch him as he watched his finger disappear inside of you till the hilt. 

Heat crawled up his neck as he bit his lip. “You’re so tight...and wet” he curled his finger slightly and you gasped as the tip of his finger rubbed against your most sensitive space. “And warm,” he slowly started to thrust his finger in and out. “All for me.” 

You moaned, “Jotaro, faster.”

“Yes.” 

“Another finger please” 

“Yes m’lady.” 

The volume of your moans nearly reached a pornographic level. The way his thumb circled your clit as his fingers stroked and pressed into your walls made your mind go numb.

“Please let me taste you,” he begged, the look in his eye wild as he bit your inner thigh.

In response you moved your hand to the back of his head and gave him what he desired, surrendering to the pleasure as he immediately started lapping at your cunt. He licked and sucked and expertly toyed with your clit with his large fingers still ramming inside of you.

“Baby, I’m going to cum” you whimpered

“Please cum on my fingers,” he said hoarsely around your clit, “Need you to cum on my fingers baby.” 

The vibrations from him speaking and his filthy words push you over the edge, and per his request you cum all over his fingers. Your eyes rolled back as your cunt convulsed around him. You had to throw a hand over your mouth so that you didnt scream.

He milked you through the orgasm, thrusting his fingers in languid strokes and lazily sucked on your clit with his eyes intensely watching your face.

“Jotaro please” you started to shy away from his attentions as the orgasm subsided.

Using his body weight, he pressed you down onto the setee. “I’m not finished yet.” Gingerly he started to eat at the honey your pussy produced, groaning in satisfaction while you meweled and bucked under his hold. 

“You taste so fucking good.” 

Eventually he released you from his taste testing and sat back on his haunches, admiring how pretty and fucked out you looked. 

“Maybe now that you’ve been satisfied like this you’ll stop being such a bitch” He commented mildly while he flipped your skirt back into place and straightened your shirt. 

“Yeah you’re right, I suppose I should have a weekly round of this, maybe next week should be Kakyoin.” You said lamely, to deep into post-orgasmic euphoria to conjure up a wittier response.

He frowned up at you. “Only me.” 

You snorted. “I suppose you’ll have to be my subservient sex slave for the rest of your life then” you said jokingly. 

For a second, when you looked into the teal of his eyes you thought you saw a look of reverence. He quickly put on his hat that was strewn haphazardly on the same desk your unfinished chemistry homework was on. 

“So I guess we aren’t enemies anymore,” you said absent-mindedly. “Having an enemy that’s...yknow done that to me would be kind of embarrassing.” 

He cleared his throat loudly as he stuffed the chemistry textbooks into his bag. 

“A truce?”

“Good grief, fine.” 

“It’s a shame we couldnt get our chemistry homework done.” 

An ironic smile touched his lips. “No, I’d say it’s pretty completed.” 

You looked at him quizzically but said nothing, instead opting to rising onto your toes to give him a soft kiss. It was brief but it left him speechless and flushed. 

He watched you, face distraught as you walked ahead of him towards the library exit.

“Let’s go,” you said when you realised he wasn’t following “do you reckon anyone heard me?” 

“Nah.”

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

Gwen's superhero identity, grief, and what her relationship with Miles means to her

GUESS WHO, ONCE AGAIN, WAS WRITING ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE, AND WROTE SO MUCH IT WARRANTED ITS OWN POST.

How I keep doing this I don't get it.

Regardless, this post will talk about Gwen using her hero identity instead of working on her emotional situation; and how she holds onto that identity until it makes her lose everything.

So, what is her situation at the beginning of the movie?

Pretty depressing.

Okay, I don't think it needs to be said how much losing Peter messed up Gwen. We don't really know the situation in full detail, however, we are aware that they had known each other for 12 years (As stated by George at the beginning of the movie during the interview,) and considering all the memories he has with the family, needless to say, Peter has been a part for most of Gwen's life.

No idea how was her situation before Peter's death, but I don't think is weird to believe she didn't have many friends besides Peter; maybe people she got along (like her bandmates,) were okay to hang out with, but Peter was the closest to her. Maybe this wouldn't be the case, if it wasn't for Spider-woman.

Here is the thing, did Gwen probably decide to put her distance after Peter's death? For sure, do I think Gwen probably leaned too much into the superhero lifestyle? Also yes.

I think the clue to that is in this part, where we see Gwen changing between her Spider-woman suit and her civilian self.

We could believe part of this is because of her grief, she learned more about her identity as a spider-woman, though I still think she may have focused a lot on it already.

I don't have a lot of proof, but I do have how her fear and her protectives of her hero cost her.

(And yes, I see Miles in the reflection, we will mention him later.)

Again, one image with many frames, because we need to make this quick.

All of this shows that Peter tries, in a way, to breach the gap between them. The only proof I have of this is 1) How Peter was getting pictures of Gwen as Spider-Woman, 2) How he was trying to defend her, believing in her despite what the police, news, and Gwen's dad say.

(Hey, is it just me, or do you think how Miles would end up drawing Gwen because he misses her, and Peter being afar from Gwen, taking pictures of both sides of her, just like Miles draws her both as Spider-Woman and her normal self?)

Guys, you don't want to know the number of times I cried during this scene of Gwen and Peter.

And is tragic on multiple levels, but something that really breaks me in this particular scene, is when Peter is calling her name, revealing how all of this was for how much he admires and looks up to her, and in his last moments, he tries to take out the mask, to see her face.

...And Gwen, in panic, trying to protect herself and her identity, refuses to let him take the mask. Meaning the last thing Peter saw, was the superhero version of Gwen, a version I don't doubt he admired and loved, but was a mask her best friend put to protect herself, and refused to let him see her for who she truly was one last time before he passed away.

I am not sure, what type of bond Peter and Gwen had, if they were crushing, just best friends, etc. For me, Peter at least had a crush on Gwen, and for Gwen well, what they were.

Because let me tell you something, what Peter and Gwen were was more than friendship, but doesn't necessarily need to be romantic; I think Gwen could have fallen for Peter, but for now he was him.

Why this is important? Because of all their history; Peter has known her since she was around 4 years (if we assume Gwen is 16 when George said they had known each other for 12 years, thought depending on the timeline Gwen maybe be 15 and know Peter since 3.) They had been close to each other for most of their lives, they had shared a table for what seemed almost daily, I wouldn't be surprised if part of the reason they were close, was because Gwen lost her mom, and Peter lost his parents, and they became friends while living in the same building with George, Ben and May supporting each other with the kids.

(Yes, that last part is a headcanon, until we have proof of the contrary I will roll with that. Feel free to have your own.)

And then Gwen keeps the secret, she tries to act dumb in front of Peter, refusing to let him. She probably is used to defending Peter, and depending on the scenario this can be weighted on him in different ways (aka if Ben died or not, if Peter has seen how much Gwen risks her life and is worried about her, if wants to be strong to help other and stand at her side.)

So this hits even harder because of how much Peter matters to her, and she didn't realize that this was driving a gap between them, a gap Peter try to close by all the means necessary until he died.

This is not to say Gwen is to blame for Peter's death, FUCK NO. Peter risking something like this means some type of doubt or insecurity that is a lot heavier than just a girl, maybe we could talk about how the school system failed Peter by allowing the bullying to continue to happen (After all, Gwen shouldn't need to defend him, this shouldn't need to happen.) Even if this hurt Peter, Gwen cannot be responsible for his well-being, close or not, this shouldn't be her job.

However, do I think Gwen could feel guilty about it, for how this identity drove them to this point? OH YES.

She said so in Into the Spiderverse "I couldn't save my best friend Peter, and I don't do friends anymore." She isolated herself for this.

Except that hey, remember how Miles was the exception? Time to talk about Miles!

I find the wording here important, "before Miles, there was Peter." She is putting Miles at the same level as Peter.

Now, I don't think Gwen means she had a crush on Peter (to be honest, I am not sure if at this point Gwen admitted to herself what Miles meant for her, seriously half of what this girl does is related to hiding her feelings even from herself.) But the role they play in her life.

While Miles didn't know Gwen as much as Peter, I think we need to remember what Miles and those ideas in 1610 could have meant for her.

At this point, Gwen doesn't have any friends, is grieving, and her dad is looking to capture her, her life sucks basically.

Then she ends up traveling to another dimension, while not exactly fun for the most part (or painless.) She had the chance to lay low, reset from her current drama; heck she even got to meet Miles a bit before he was officially bitten, and met him just how he is, and at least find him funny.

And I think while short-lived, she being around Miles as spider-woman helped her, because Miles represents the bridge between those worlds.

She met him when he was starting, and while she has been doing this for 2 years, that means she has been painfully enduring this alone for 2 years.

Miles is someone her age, someone who enjoys being around even if it isn't about being spiders, and also understands the pains of being a hero and the pressure that is on your shoulders, as well as the excitement and the desire to do the right thing.

Peter was a big part of her life, but Miles represents all of her being seen, for someone who likes her for who she is, and who she can be honest with.

For the most part.

Because she still clings to the mantle.

Look, feel free to call me crazy, but I believe this part, is sadly, related to this.

I just established how Gwen had put her identity as spider-woman over other people, including those close to her and those who could have been close to her, allowing Miles as an exception basically because they are both spiders, and being a big reason why Miles is important to her.

One way or another, this cost her, and what she does do when she loses someone? Concentrating on being a Spider-woman, of course!

While I don't doubt Gwen is genuinely excited about being part of the organization, something that I can't stop thinking about is how no Jessica Drew, Peter B, Hobie, or anyone in the organization, could feel the gap Gwen felt. The gap that drove her to spend an afternoon with Miles despite what was at stake.

And Jess's being Gwen's mentor is something that is the reason this post keep coming, (because George's parent skills, Gwen clinging to being a hero, are all connected to that.)

Ultimately, it doesn't matter how much she clings to being a Spider-Woman, it can't replace a bond with someone.

Also, as @ficsinhistory said in a reply to one of my post, you are right! Gwen is definitely Captain Stacy's daughter.

Because while he clings to being a cop, not just as a job, but also as his way of life and moral compass (Which gets in the way of his connection with his daughter,) Gwen also clings to being a hero, instead of dealing with her grief and her fears. She probably did the same because well that's what she learned from him right?

Hey does this mean generational traum- I'll See Myself Out.

This, is the face Gwen makes while Miguel tells Miles he needs to let Jeff die.

A lot of people wonder why so many spiders are doing this, and while that's another massive post I am working on (more investigation, why? Because why I would make things easy for myself.) Let's give the clip notes version here.

The surprise is not that Gwen is going along, is how absolutely heartwrenching is to see this when you put in context everything.

You see, for a while, Gwen cling to being spider-woman because it was a way to avoid her grief, now? She doesn't have anything.

While she puts emphasis on her hero work, let's remember what is probably going on in her universe: Gwen is supposed to be a student, to be in a band, to be a regular teen. Being Gwen Stacy is what she has known most of her life, and what should be her main focus, and now everything she ever knows? As far as she is aware, she lost it, she can't have her life back without risking having her own dad send her to jail.

I cannot call Gwen homeless because she has the organization, but that's not much better. Remember how she believes if she fucks this up, she could get sent back home, meaning going to prison and having her dad try to persecute her?

Forget she using this to not deal with her trauma, she was forced to pick up this life because it was this or still lose everything, but everyone may hate her.

The question is now why Gwen did it, is how anyone can see this situation, and can the question ethical when Gwen is having her risk her life, and not in the life and death kind of way, but the type that is the reason life is worth it.

And she clings to this until the bitter end, until-

She got her own band.

We don't know, what will happen in the third movie; but I don't think would be crazy to believe they would try to keep in contact if that's possible.

Here is the thing, regardless of any previous friendship Gwen had with any of them, the fact is this: Gwen said it herself, she is mostly a solo act, and even with thousands of spiders, she can't bring herself to be vulnerable and open up from the most part. Not having people wasn't the problem anymore, was her being unsure to do the first step.

And she has this band, because she wants to save Miles, because regardless of any mistakes she may had done, he is worth the risk, he is worth fighting for, and if she needs to get help to do right by him, so be it.

So who knows, perhaps Gwen gets to stick with this band, all because she decided to think less about what is the right thing to do and to fight for the people who are worth fighting for.

Because Miles became that first friend after Peter, she had the chance to open up and make more, as well as recover those she thought she lost (like her dad.)

Wouldn't that be a beautiful way to end her arc?

[sugurus-fave-monkey]

Always.

Everything about SatoSugu makes me absolutely depressed, so I thought I would contribute.

TW/Cw: AU( Geto doesn’t stop Gojo from killing the worshippers), death, violence, suicide mention, self injurious behaviour, depression, angst, living with guilt. Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru

WC: Roughly 2200

“Suguru, should we… kill these guys? The way I am right now, I doubt I would feel anything?”

They had been only sixteen. Suguru didn’t speak at that time. He had turned his back on his one and only friend. He had heard the screams of the dying. The applause stopping at once. Satoru Gojo had snapped. And Suguru could have prevented it.

He could have walked back down the stairs, snapped Satoru out of it, and made up some story, that they had been attacked. But he didn’t. He ran away, the screams seemingly imprinted in his brain. He knew Satoru could find him if he wanted to, but he didn’t care.

Suguru had turned into an empty alleyway, clutching himself and emptying whatever remained in his stomach. He sunk down against the wall, running his hands over his face. It was all his fault.

“Satoru Gojo is henceforth deemed a special level threat.”

Suguru had cursed himself. If only he had said or did something. Of course nobody else had blamed him. Satoru had learned RCT, if it had come to a fight, Suguru likely would have lost.

As the days turned into months, turned into years, Suguru still questioned himself. What would he have done in Satoru’s position? What if he would have said yes and joined him? Could they have changed Jujutsu society forever? They were the strongest, after all.

Whenever those thoughts creeped into Suguru’s brain, he needed to take a cold shower, the shock of the water clearing his head, if only partly. He could scream, he could smash his fist against the wall of the tile, until his knuckles grew raw. He could stare, entranced by the crimson mingling with the water.

“You were smart to bring them back here, who knows what those people would have done.”

Shoko’s voice, reaffirming that he did the right thing. It took everything in his soul to stay level headed. How could people treat children like that? He wanted to slaughter them, torture them, but he couldn’t bring himself to commit such an atrocity.

The strong exist to protect the weak. With Satoru gone, and a potential enemy, Suguru needed to keep himself in check. If Satoru wanted to, he would be able to wipe out every sorcerer.

Nanako and Mimiko were instantly attached to Suguru, practically glued to his legs. They became a ray of light in his dark world. Made him cling to the small bit of hope that remained.

“There’s a teaching position open. We would love for you to take the role.”

Twenty four years old, and he became a teacher. He wonders if both Satoru and himself would have worked alongside one another. His bank of curses grows and grows. Exorcise, consume. Teach the young sorcerers how to reach their potential.

They watch in awe, as he makes the curses submit to him, spiralling into themselves, before only leaving a ball of their essence. He always walks away from them, turning his back on them. When he ingests the curses he feels his most vulnerable. The befouled taste of the curse, it causes his eyes to sting and water. He has to hold himself back from gagging, it’s like an oil spill in his mouth, leaving a stain in its wake as it travels down his throat. Satoru had been the only person he ever allowed to see him at his weakest. He would pull a sweet out of his pocket, gently placing a hand on Suguru’s back, soothing him as he retched.

And every time he had to ingest a curse, his heart ached, the memory of his best friend, creeping up on him. He swears he can feel Satoru’s hand on his back, but instead of warm and soothing, it’s icy, filled with hatred. And the dreams that come after, are always the same. Satoru’s charming smile and soft gaze turn malicious, full of hatred. Blaming Suguru for everyone who he killed.

“Yuta Okkotsu shall be executed, and the Special Grade Vengeful Spirit known as Rika, shall be exorcised.”

Suguru had fought against the higher ups, vowing to enact the execution and forcefully absorb Rika if it came down to it. How pathetic that they sit comfortably turning their noses up at things they don’t understand. Would it have been so wrong to destroy that village? Would Satoru have spared the kids life? He had been Satoru’s moral compass, and failed him when he needed him most.

Yuta amalgamated well with the other students, learning how to use Rika efficiently. Next year the school was supposed to take in another Zenin, a 10 Shadows user. Suguru wondered if Satoru would be proud of him. He didn’t have to wonder for long.

“Hey Suguru, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Suguru’s blood ran cold, that voice, he would never forget that voice. Everyone had sensed Satoru Gojo’s presence, and quickly responded, but by the time they reached him, his arm was already draped around Yuta.

Suguru had fired an army of cursed spirits at his best friend, still not trying to kill him, but begging him, willing him to leave, and save himself. Suguru fought back tears, wishing he could just take Satoru and run away, leave this life of sorcery behind.

“I came to give you time to prepare. Yuta is distantly, a member of my family. I’ll be returning on December 24th to collect him. If you don’t want casualties I would suggest handing him over willingly.”

With that, Gojo was gone. Suguru’s heart felt like it had been ripped from his chest, still beating. So many emotions coursed through his body. He practically sprinted to his quarters, collapsing in front of his toilet, vomiting until his throat was raw.

He had brushed his teeth, before stepping in the shower, this time a scalding temperature, hoping to cleanse him of his feelings. He looked at his knuckles, faint scars on them, before sending his fist flying into the wall. He didn’t even feel the pain, it didn’t help anymore, nothing would help anymore. For a brief second he debated slitting his own wrists, but what would that do? The rushing water ate the sounds of his sobs as he lay fetal position in the tub, crimson once again mixing with the clear water.

“Where is Yuta? Nobody has seen him since last night!”

Fuck. Panic. Chaos. Suguru’s hand was wrapped in bandages,having hammered it until it was bleeding every single day. He focused in on Yuta’s residuals, following him.

It didn’t take long to find them. Yuta, with the help of Rika were managing to keep Satoru at bay. Suguru would later learn that Yuta didn’t want anyone to die for his sake, so his plan was to either kill Satoru, or die trying.

Suguru had approached Yuta, clasping a hand on his shoulder. He told Yuta that was enough and to give him his sword. He would be the one to kill Satoru Gojo.

“You’re late Suguru.”

Suguru put his all into his final fight with Satoru, unleashing Uzumaki upon him, and quickly closing the distance, sword in hand.

Satoru no longer fighting back, lying crumpled in a heap on the ground. He was even smiling as Suguru stared down at him with tears in his eyes. Everything had come to this, and it was now time to depart from this world. Satoru could have won, but he made this choice. He couldn’t bring himself to kill himself after everything he had done, he just hoped Suguru had the strength to kill him.

“Any last words?”

Suguru was willing to let him depart with whatever he wished to say. But wasn’t expecting what came out of Satoru’s mouth.

“I always loved you.”

Suguru felt the blow to his soul. He should have stopped Satoru. There were so many things he wished he had done. His stomach is a pit. It felt like someone blasted a hole into him with a shotgun. He tastes bile in his mouth. His mind is reeling. He tightens his grip on the sword.

“I will always love you.”

Suguru’s final words to his best friend. In a single slash, Satoru’s head was sliced off his body. A clean cut. An honourable way to die. Suguru can’t even look at the body before turning away, and heading back to the school.

The pain only deepens. Suguru takes on riskier missions, absorbing more and more curses. His knuckles never get a chance to heal, when it’s not enough he squeezes his nails into his thighs until he draws blood.

His dreams worsen, replaying the worst moment in his life. His eyes are constantly suffering with dark circles under them. He tries to spend as much time with other people as possible. He trains, his capabilities ranking him as one of the strongest sorcerers of all time.

He would never show his suffering. Especially not towards his students. He would smile at them, ruffling their hair, laughing at their jokes. Nanako and Mimiko looked up to him as a father, and he saw them as daughters. They would brush his hair out for him, and he would relax, the sensation soothing him.

“Sukuna’s Vessel, Yuji Itadori must be executed.”

Another child he has taken under his wing. He shouldn’t have sent the Zenin boy looking for the fingers. Megumi was still green, though talented it was too highly ranked a mission. Had Suguru gone himself, he could have easily absorbed the cursed spirit that had taken possession of the finger.

Suguru trained Itadori easily, summoning weak cursed spirits at first, then gradually increasing their rank, forcing Yuji to channel his cursed energy. The kid was a quick learner and Suguru was thankful for that, as it seemed since Sukuna had awakened, there had been more cursed spirit activity.

Suguru kept getting assigned missions that put him out of the country, and during those times nothing but bad luck seemed to befall the students. Sukuna had taken over Itadori, and somehow the boy survived. The Goodwill event had went to shambles with cursed spirits attacking the students. Geto had to unleash Uzumaki once again. Cursed wombs had taken form and attacked.

Was this all from Sukuna? The cursed spirits were strong, intelligent and seemed to have motive behind what they’re doing. Nanami had fought one that he described as patch face, having the form of a human, and seemingly enjoying toying with Nanami.

“All sorcerers need to report to Shibuya Station.”

December 24th 2018

Something was wrong. Suguru was the only one able to pass through the barrier. Everyone else was instructed to work on taking it out, to allow entrance inside.

Suguru felt chills as he walked through the station. He tried to get the attention of the civilians, but they were unresponsive.

The cursed spirits ambushed him. Suguru put up a good fight, but he wasn’t willing to risk the lives of the civilians, and he was unable to use RCT. He was still standing, but he knew it wouldn’t be long until he collapsed from blood loss.

“Hey, Suguru. Been a while, hasn’t it?”

Impossible. Every memory he had involving Satoru flooded his head at that moment. He managed to turn around.

Satoru Gojo, in the flesh stood before him, stitches on his neck, and on his forehead. There was no way. Suguru had cut his head off. Even with RCT a dead body can’t heal itself. Tears once again brimmed in Suguru’s eyes.

“You’re not Satoru Gojo!”

One last act of defiance.

“What the fuck are you?”

Pulling out the stitches. A brain with a mouth. Both mouths smirking at him. Replacing the stitches.

“Satoru, are you just going to let this thing have its way with you?”

Satoru’s hand flying up to his throat, choking him. But he was laughing. Satoru’s body made a hand sign.

“Don’t worry, Suguru Geto, I won’t need his body much longer. Hollow Technique: Purple.”

Death was painless. Suguru finally felt relaxed. At peace. His soul finally freed.

“You’re late, Suguru.”

His eyes snapped open. Satoru Gojo, complete with his sunglasses reflecting light, and his smirk stood above him.

Suguru’s body moved on its own accord. He ran to his one and only friend, embracing him, his tears finally spilling. He did what he should have done ages ago, and pulled Satoru in for a kiss. Needy, passionate, broken, desperate.

When Suguru pulls away, he sees himself reflected in Satoru’s sunglasses. He’s wearing his school uniform, his hair short and in a bun. It seemed his soul took the form of when it was the happiest.

“We can’t stay.”

Satoru confirmed what Suguru had thought from the moment he arrived.

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I have always loved you. This time, I’ll get it right Satoru.”

And so they walked away, departing from each other once again.

“Suguru, should we… kill these guys? The way I am right now, I doubt I would feel anything?”

They are only sixteen.

“No. There would be no meaning to it.”

Suguru’s knuckles had been scarred as long as he could remember. They finally stopped burning.

[marvel-starwarsfangirl]

Crosshair and Omega's dynamic

Spoilers for episode 4

Out of all of Omega's relationships with the Batch, I have to say my favorite is the one with Crosshair (and it's not because I'm biased towards him). Even though they only had like two full episodes to work off each other, they do it so well. It's peak sibling relationship. But why I think it works so well is because of how they work off each other. In my eyes, Omega and Cross see each other as equals or at least on similar levels. This is evident with how they guide each other when fleeing from the Empire. There's no clear leader between them, the pair listen to each other depending on the situation.

Crosshair's skills are basically fighting and playing lookout. Both are very handy to have. Whenever a fight breaks out, Omega lets Crosshair take the lead and he works to protect her and himself. That's not to say Omega can't hold her own, but when the going gets tough, the tough get going (credit Lion King 2 for that cheesy line). Cross also takes a natural protective stance around her. While she does the technical stuff, he keeps watch. He might say it isn't part of his skill set, but believe me, it is.

Then, we have Omega. She's much better at hustling and seeking alternative ways to get things done. It's true that blaster fire will draw more attention to one's self. Thus, Crosshair lets her guide him in situations where they need to be more low-profile. Omega is also better with social situations imo. She's a smart kid who learned a lot from her other brothers and Cid. I love that the show gives both characters to exercise their unique skill set while not undermining the other.

The other reason why I love their relationship so much is because of how it's changed Crosshair. In the months that he and Omega have been imprisoned, he's truly grown to care for and respect her. First off, he uses her name. The only other people he does that with is Hunter and Wrecker. Secondly, he follows her lead with almost no question. He does complain and make comments. BUT, he still follows her. Crosshair in season 1 mocked Hunter for listening to Omega. Little did he know that he would follow her over 6 months later (yes, I did the math).

And then there's the emotional piece of it. Crosshair is so open with Omega in his body language, facial expressions, and words. She brings out the best side of him and I am here for it. Compare that to when we first meet him in Clone Wars. He's quiet, hangs back, and usually wears a stern look on his face. Now look at him with Omega. He's much more talkative. His face emits so much emotion from being fed up to genuine concern. There is no doubt in my mind that he loves Omega. He encourages her and openly voices his concerns. I myself struggle with opening up to others about certain except for a few people. Seeing Crosshair opening to someone who he feels comfortable with is truly beautiful and heartwarming. Between Mayday and Omega, you can see just how much Crosshair has changed.

Finally, the imperial officer casually calling Crosshair Omega's dad and her not saying anything proves that Crossdad is real. It's so on the nose, but it's so obvious that Crosshair cares for her and is good at keeping her safe.

[scarredwithcruelintentions]

chapter 2: the hunted

Find the masterlist here!

W/C: 2,327

A/N: Have a chapter in honor of my new computer!

Astarion spent the next morning as he always did, sitting just outside his tent with a book in hand. Most of the camp was up and milling about, starting their days by breaking their fasts and groggily wishing each other ‘good morning’s. He made sure to stay away from it all, as usual, but watched the proceedings with a keen eye and a great sense of unease. His attention kept flitting back and forth between the ever growing gaggle of his awakened traveling companions and your darkened tent.

He felt a sense of dread inch its fingers up his spine, cold and unyielding, the more time passed without your lively and authoritative presence to command the group of companions. The sun’s reach expanded well over the horizon now, and it was so very unlike you to have a lie in, no matter the circumstances.

Oh gods, did I go too far last night? What if I killed her?!

Just as he prepared himself to go check on you, lest he find you dead at his hand, you popped your head out of your tent. You raised an arm against the onslaught of daylight and blinked blearily, running a hand down your face to dash the sleep from your eyes. Astarion sighed audibly in relief, until your now-focused gaze found him. Dread’s icy grip once again clutched at him, stealing his breath anew.

This is it. This is where I’ll be tossed.

You made a beeline for him, taking care to avoid drawing the attention of the other companions. Astarion slipped into his familiar guise of nonchalance, preparing himself for his inevitable departure. He made to stand when you stopped a few feet from him.

“Good morning,” he began with a coy smile, “How do you feel?”

“I feel fine, if a bit woozy,” you waved noncommittally. “And you? How do you feel?”

Astarion’s false confidence crumbled in an instant, blanching at your question.

“How… how do I feel? My dear, I’m not the one that had a leech to their throat last night!”

“That’s rather beside the point, leech,” you giggled. “Now, do you plan on answering me? Or are you simply going to stand there agape like a dead fish?”

“I suppose I feel… well. Superb, even!” he giggled back. 

“Wonderful! Any idea how long this will last?” you pointed to your head, no doubt referencing the foggy sensation clouding your thoughts.

“It’ll pass,” he flicked his hand dismissively. “Just be grateful I’m not a ‘true’ vampire. A bite from them and you might wake up as a vampire spawn, like my good self,” he leaned forward, voice hushed, “All of a vampire’s hunger, but few of their powers.”

He heaved a dejected sigh at the reminder.

You crossed your arms over your chest, a smile toying at your lips, “Oh? Any other drawbacks I should be aware of?”

“That’s the odd thing: standing in the sun, wading through rivers, wandering into homes without an invitation - they’re all perfectly mundane activities now, things I never could have done before the tadpole. Seems someone, or something, has changed the rules. If only Cazador were here so I might laugh in his face before I rip it off,” he laughed heartily - then abruptly cut himself short, a shard of terror lancing through his thoughts at having revealed too much.

You raised an inquisitive eyebrow, studying him, but did not press.

“Nonetheless, it’s a stroke of good fortune to have a vampire on our side. I meant what I said, I am excited to see you fight,” you intoned softly, dropping your arms.

“Oh yes, and now I can fight with all my weapons,” he responded with a devious smirk, fangs glinting in the bright morning sun. “If I drain a bandit dry every now and again, it isn’t as if they weren’t destined to meet their maker anyway.”

You laughed, loud and full, at his witty remark. He was surprised to find that it stirred a delightful warmth in his chest, a feeling unfamiliar to him.

“I’m just glad you’re being sensible about these… revelations. I was worried people might turn up with torches and pitchforks,” he began with a smile, though it was rapidly erased as he noticed the other companions wandering into earshot with a mixed array of expressions. 

“Although, there’s still time,” he nodded over your shoulder gravely. He watched intently as your expression hardened and you turned to face the horde.

“A vampire among us? So be it. But should I wake with so much as a drop of blood on my neck, I will end him,” Lae’zel snarled.

“I’d just better not wake in the night to find fangs at my throat,” Shadowheart scoffed with disdain.

“Of course we’re traveling with a vampire,” Gale threw his hands up in exasperation, then pointed at him menacingly, “A word of warning, Astarion: I taste absolutely awful!”

You looked at him over your shoulder, and whatever you saw on his face steeled your resolve.

“I trust him,” you said, voice hardened and posture defensive. “Besides, like it or not, we need him. And there’s no need to worry about the safety of your necks. He’s got mine.”

You turned your head and bared his bite mark to your companions. A round of hushed murmurs and surprised faces met your bold confession to his feeding. If he could blush, he would be red from the tips of his ears to his toes in mortification at what your words implied.

“Well, now that’s settled, we should be getting on our way. Karlach, Astarion, Shadowheart, you’re with me. We’re to find the witch, Ethel, today,” you finished with a nod, effectively dismissing the group.

Astarion continued to stare at the back of your head in shock, and you turned to face him again, an inquisitive look adorning the fine features of your face once more.

“I…” he began, but petered out, unsure of what to say.

You snorted and turned to stride back towards your tent, presumably to stock your bag for the day.

He reached out to stop you instinctively and grabbed at your shoulder. You flinched uncharacteristically and froze on the spot, and he ripped his hand away as though scalded.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” he mumbled as you turned toward him again. The look you regarded him with was far icier than before, the lingering warning of a threat still causing your pulse to flutter.

“S’fine,” you mutter. “Out with it.”

“I… just wanted to thank you. Again,” he finished lamely, waving his hands awkwardly at his sides.

“Don’t mention it,” you said gruffly, then finally strode away to your tent and began donning your armor.

Puzzled by your reaction, he watched you pack for a few moments too long. ______________________________________________________________

“It’s so unpleasantly muggy in these parts, and there are so many bloody bugs,” he whined, swatting at the air around him.

“Does the big, bad, bitey monster fear a taste of his own medicine?” Shadowheart mocked, deepening his scowl.

“Don’t worry, Astarion. They won’t bite you; you’re dead, remember?” you quipped with a cheeky grin.

Just as a retort reached his lips, you stopped dead in your tracks and raised an arm - a signal to await your command.

“What is it?” he whispered apprehensively.

You hushed him, scanning the sunny fields of wildflowers surrounding the group.

“Illusion magic. This isn’t real,” you murmured. As if triggered by your words, the grassy knolls give way to reveal a bog, fetid with the stench of death and decay.

“Oh lovely!” he chirped sarcastically, “I always did want to rot in a bog!”

You shot a glare at him and signaled the group to continue onward. The change in landscape was drastic; where once there were flowers, now fungi resided, drawing sustenance from the mossy trunks of felled trees. The sunlight had vanished into humid gloom, and the sheep that had been quietly grazing were revealed as redcaps, feasting on the corpses of their victims.

Karlach’s eyes almost bugged out of her skull, raising her greataxe in preparation for a fight.

“Ignore them,” you waved at her. “They think we still see sheep.”

She nodded gravely.

The group continued through the putrid haze of the bog, avoiding the redcaps and picking through half-rotted remains for loot, when they happened upon a man fletching crossbow bolts. Astarion smelled him before he saw him, and a flare of panic shot through him.

The Gur.

He watched you wrinkle your nose as you called out in greeting.

“Ah, stranger!” the man called back, noticing your sour expression. “Forgive the aroma. Powdered iron-vine, an old hunter’s trick. Most monsters will think twice before making a meal of me.”

Against his better judgment, Astarion piped up, “You’re a monster hunter? I’m surprised - I thought all Gur were vagrant cutthroats.” 

He sneered at the man in front of him, no doubt an errand boy for Cazador, meant to drag him back for judgment at his master’s mercy. What were the odds, a lone Gur hunter this far from Baldur’s Gate? It was surely a message meant for him alone.

“Pardon, but who - or what - is a Gur?” you interjected, posture defensive and coiled to spring.

“A mystical and dangerous people who travel the land, never settling in one place,” the man flourished with a twinkle of mischief in his eye. “We steal your chickens, curse your crops, seduce your daughters… your friend here has heard it all, I’m sure,” he gestured at Astarion.

Astarion fought the urge to bare his fangs.

“I wish I had half the power settled folk think my people possess. Alas, I am a simple wanderer,” the man dismissed, “A simple wanderer and monster hunter. But I am no witch doctor or cutthroat.”

“So what monster are you hunting, then?” you bit back.

It was as though Astarion couldn’t help but draw the attention back to himself despite all of the warning bells ringing in his ears, his nerves causing him to prattle on.

“Something terrifying, no doubt! Dragon? Cyclops? Kobold?”

“Nothing so dramatic,” the man scoffed, “I’m hunting for a vampire spawn.”

Astarion felt his face fall in panic and caught your subtle glance in his peripheral vision.

I knew it! Just when things were beginning to look up…

“His name is Astarion, but I think he’s gone to ground. I was hoping the hag of these lands could help me flush him out, if I can afford her blood price.”

“And when you find this ‘Astarion’? You’ll, what, kill him?” you asked, subtly lowering your stance in preparation for a fight.

“Not this time. My orders are to capture him,” the man replied, eyeing you more warily by the moment.

“Oh, and bring him where, exactly?” Astarion questioned, trying his best to keep the fear from lacing into his words.

“Baldur’s Gate. My people wait for me there.”

“A vampire spawn doesn’t seem worth the hunt. It’s not like he’s a real vampire,” you added, trying to wheedle more information from the Gur hunter.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure a vampire spawn could still rip out your throat if he felt like it,” Astarion snarled, unable to help himself at the slight.

Shut up! You’re going to give yourself away!

Astarion’s fingers twitched, longing to feel the familiar weight of his dagger in hand. His mind was racing, addled with the lingering sensations of dread and rage like so many unwanted hands clawing at him, his skin crawled with it.

The man, taking no apparent notice, continued talking to you.

“He is right, unfortunately. They are only weak when compared to their masters. During the day, we have the advantage! But at night, when they hunt? You will not find a more deadly quarry,” he finished, expression carrying a grave countenance.

Astarion caught your gaze, clearly calculating your next move. Whatever you saw in his face - fear, loathing, fury, he knew not what - made your mind up.

“Interesting, indeed,” you said, holding his eye. “Astarion, what do you think?”

“What? No, it isn’t possible! It’s daylight!” the man exclaimed, looking between you and Astarion.

Astarion ignored the bewildered hunter, a vicious, fanged smile contorting his face as he pulled his dagger.

“I think the hunter has become the hunted,” he growled, and then lunged at the Gur, plunging his dagger hard into the man’s throat.

Karlach gave a great shout of indignation, and Shadowheart gasped in surprise. You, however, did nothing more than cross your arms over your chest, mouth set in a grim line.

With no reaction time to reach for his crossbow, the man stumbled back, pawing weakly at the blade protruding from his neck. A bright scarlet stain spread across the front of his worn doublet, and with a final anguished gurgle, he collapsed into the muck.

“What in the Nine Hells did you do that for!” Karlach screeched at him.

He opened his mouth to reply, but the words that came were not his.

“He was a threat to our own. He had to be neutralized.”

Astarion looked up at you shrewdly, scrutinizing you for any deception, but found none. Neither did he find any betrayal of disgust or fear in your expression, only wry determination to protect your companions above all else.

“The deed’s done,” you said with an air of finality, looking down at Astarion crouched by the body of the fallen hunter wiping his dagger clean. “On we get to find Ethel, no doubt the hag the hunter spoke of.”

The rest of the group grumbled their assent and started moving, but Astarion was held firmly in place by the look in your eyes. A new kind of anxiety gnawed in the pit of his stomach.

He could read the many questions held in that one look, and he knew the time had come for further explanation once you regrouped at camp later that night.

[once-upon-an-imagine]

Hi, I hope ur doing well bc I rlly love ur writing🥺anyway can u do a sweet boyfriend James scenario with a reader who’s been avoiding him because she suddenly broke out on her cheek and is self conscious about it😭I literally have the worst skin in the winter and I’m trying so hard not to cry but my skin is so important to me😭😭😭😭like I’ve never felt uglier and I know breakouts are normal but still🥺😭

Thank you so much for liking my writing, love! And I am so sorry! I totally get that and I hope you get well soon! I know how annoying skin things are! 🥺 sorry, this turned out to long for a dialogue so I made it a drabble, I hope you like it  😊 Warnings: reader feeling insecure about the breakouts on skin Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter 😊 gifs aren't mine 😁

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Unpretty

"Sweetheart?"

"Go away!" James heard on the other side of the door of your dorm.

"It's James" he tried again.

"I know! Please, go away!" he heard you again, feeling his heart shatter.

You always wanted to see him. He hadn't seen you all day. When you missed breakfast and he thought maybe you slept in and would be late. But you never came. If it wasn't because Remus forcing him to go to Potions, he would have gone straight to your dorm. You didn't come during first period. Or second period, making him worry. When he looked you on the Map, he saw you were still in your dorm and his worries lessened a little. He grew anxious because maybe you were sick. But none of your roommates had said anything to him, and they did whenever that was the case. He wanted to go look for you after Transfiguration was done but he had Quidditch practice and, being the captain with a match on Saturday, he couldn't really skip it. He hated it when he didn't see you there, waiting for him to go to lunch, as you always did. So, here he was with a basket full of food, waiting for you to open the door.

"Princess, you weren't at breakfast, or classes, or lunch" he insisted. "I'm starting to get worried. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Jamie, please just... go to lunch!"

"I'm not gonna go without you, love. What is going on?"

"Nothing! I'm just not feeling well!"

"But... I haven't seen you all day!" he whined. "Sweetheart, please just open the door. You know I'm not going to stop worrying until I see that you're okay" he told you.

You knew he was right. He wasn't going to leave until he saw you. You grabbed your wand and pointed it at the door so it would slightly open, but you remained on your bed underneath your blankets and comforters. James slowly entered your dorm and you could hear his footsteps approaching you until you felt a weight sitting at the end of your bed.

"You've seen me, Potter. Now you can go away" you mumbled, grumpily.

"No, what I see is my beautiful girlfriend wrapped in a cocoon of blankets" he said, trying to remove some from you but you pulled them tightly. "Love, what's going on? Do you have a fever? Do you need me to take you to Madam Pomfrey-?"

"No!" you quickly replied.

"Okay, fine. I guess, I'll just... eat all of these brownies by myself then" he said, grabbing the picnic basket and placing it on your bed. You slowly peeked a little from your blankets and James could only see your eyes, looking back at him. "Oh, there she is. There's my beautiful girlfriend" he smiled, trying to pull you to him but you pushed him away.

"I'm not beautiful today" you mumbled.

"Honey, what are you talking about? You're always beautiful!"

"No, not today! I have been really stressed because of exams and my period is coming next week and my stupid face decided to have a stupid breakout and I look horrible!" you said, pulling your blankets closer to you again and resuming your original position, away from James.

"Princess" he said, feeling his heart breaking a little at the pain in your voice. "Is that why you stayed here today?"

"Yes! I look like a troll!"

"Sweetheart, I seriously doubt that's true" James said, with a small chuckle.

"Easy for you to say! I bet there's not one day in your life when you haven't looked perfect!" you replied.

"What are you talking about? I don't look perfect!"

"James, I have seen you naked. You always look perfect!" you insisted.

"Oh, if you want to play that game, I have also seen you naked, my love, and if any one of us is perfect, it's you" he said, lying down next to you but you still didn't budge. "Fine, if you're not coming out, I guess I have to come in" he said.

"What-?" before you could continue, you felt the blankets around you fly away before it quickly placed James underneath them again. There was no way out now. Your boyfriend was facing you with the most enamored look on his face you had ever seen.

"Hello, gorgeous" he smiled goofily at you, wrapping his arms around your waist and you quickly buried your face in his chest, feeling tears in your eyes. "Hey, what's this for?" he said, stroking your back with his hands.

"I look h-hideous, Jamie" you said between sobs.

"Sweetheart, I know that you may feel that way because you don't feel comfortable right now, but I promise you could never look hideous" he insisted.

"Y-you have to say that because you're m-my boyfriend" you said, still not looking up at him.

"No, I say that because it's the truth" he said, kissing your temple. "Could you please let me look at you? I haven't seen you all day. You have been really mean to me" he pouted.

"I'm sorry" you murmured, still looking down.

"It's okay" he said, gently cupping your cheek and making you finally look up at him. "There's my beautiful girlfriend" he said, leaning down to give you a soft kiss on the lips and making the tiniest smile appear on your face.

"You're a dork" you said, trying not to laugh.

"I know, I have the thick ugly glasses to prove it and my dorky hair that goes everywhere" he told you, making you glare at him.

"I love your dorky glasses and your messy hair" you pouted, running a hand through his messy locks.

"See? So how come you don't believe me when I say you still look beautiful?"

"It's not the same thing!" you insisted.

"It's the exact same thing, love" he said, kissing you again. "Does it hurt?" he asked, his expression turning worried and you felt yourself smiling even brighter at him.

"A little" you told him. "It's more uncomfortable than painful" you assured him. "But I already took some meds so it should be gone in a few days" you instructed him.

"Wait a minute, were you planning on avoiding me FOR DAYS?!" he said, dramatically with a hurt look on his face.

"No" you assured him. "I was hoping that they wouldn't look as bad tomorrow" you said.

"Well, that is still just cruel, love!" he said, pulling you closer to him and peppering your face with kisses.

"Jamie!" you complained, giggling as he kissed you once more. "I believed you mentioned some brownies?"

"Is that all I am to you? Your brownie dispenser?"

"Of course, not!" you said, kissing him again. "You're also my personal teddy bear that I can cuddle any time I want" you said, laughing a little.

"You're lucky I love you" he said, sitting up, making the blankets into a fort above the two of you before he grabbed the picnic basket.

"I really am" you said, sitting up next to him and kissing his cheek. "I love you too" you said, as he kissed your temple.

The End

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A/N: hope you liked it, loves :)

[neutronice]

Timid Yuuri? I Think Not!

I can’t tell if this is an unpopular opinion or not, because even 6+ years later, the Yuri on Ice fandom is rich and wonderful. It’s a fandom where there seems to be something for everyone.

But one thing I do see a lot of, and at least if @rikeijo​‘s takes are correct (and given her translations, I believe them), there is a rabid subset of YOI that firmly stand in the uke!Yuuri and seme!Victor camp, to such a degree that there was backlash about seeing long-haired young Victor because it did not fit the mold of perfect masculine boyfriend assertive Victor and soft feminine timid Yuuri.

Which... <points to canon> Yuuri has something to say about that.

When we first meet Yuuri, he’s a ball of anxiety and self-doubt. He’s had a horrific debut at the GPF, and his dog has died.

Yet, his first encounter with Victor Nikiforov, his idol, is him turning away from an offer of a commemorative photo. Turning down and walking away are already not behaviors of someone who is timid. Ashamed and depressed that his idol didn’t even seem to recognize him as a competitor? Yes. Timid and uke? Nope.

I often wonder if the timidity idea came from the other first encounter, yes, that one. Naked-and-confident Victor in the onsen declaring himself Yuuri’s coach. Yuuri shell-shocked and overly accommodating. On top of that, Yuuri lets Yurio bulldoze him, lets Victor set the terms of the Onsen on Ice, and goes along with it all with nary a complaint.

At least at the beginning, we know Yuuri thinks of Victor as a god. We see him do a dogeza for being late, see him flustered with the touch and attention that Victor gives him, see the way his face goes moony each time Victor speaks.

And then... as Victor is telling Yuuri to remember sometime how it felt being with a lover, Yuuri reacted like this:

Yup. That is the face he made as he shouted “huh?!” at Victor, before he came back to himself and apologized profusely. That “huh?!” is not timid.

Personally, I think this Yuuri, the “huh?!” Yuuri is the real one, sliding behind the mask of deference because his idol is coaching him, scared that Victor might lose interest and abandon him.

And from that “huh?!” moment onward, we get more and more of the real Yuuri.

We get eye rolls when Victor changes into a suit for the regional competition.

We get full on insubordination when Victor says to cut some of his quads.

We get battle-mode Yuuri letting Victor apply his lip balm.

And it all goes downhill from there.

In Beijing, Yuuri scolded Victor for interrupting his interview to talk food. He refused the food that would turn his stomach (as well as the alcohol), and finally... when Victor totally fumbled on coaching Yuuri through his panic attack, Yuuri... unleashed.

(gif source here)

You know who acted like the experienced and assertive one after this conversation? I’ll give you one hint. It wasn’t Victor.

Yes, Victor absolutely was the one who initiated that kiss. But even Yuuri’s reaction to it (after the initial shock of kissing Victor on live TV) was “oh!”

Yet, these moments are not even the cream of the crop. There is one moment that stands above them all. Yes, I am referring to the tie.

Victor is hamming it up for the audience in Russia. He is not paying all of his attention to Yuuri. Yuuri takes issue with this.

There is nothing timid or uke about that tie tug. That is the type of tie tug that awakened something in Victor Nikiforov (if it had not already been awakened by his gorgeous chaos goblin boyfriend already.)

This is not to say that Yuuri has no shy and tender moments, he absolutely does. This is not to say that Victor is actually the uke, he absolutely is not.

This is just to say that the thing about Yuuri and Victor that make them compelling and wonderful is that they cannot be fit into obvious little boxes like uke and seme.

It’s what is so wonderful about Victor and Yuuri. That we can imagine them in whatever configuration we want to, and it works!

It means that I cannot wait for Ice Adolescence, with that soft and sweet Victor. Because Yuuri Katsuki was not an uke seeking a seme, he was nuanced and confident and sweet and chaotic, and absolutely perfect for Victor Nikiforov.

[starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies]

You Don’t Go To Parties-Part 2 | R.C.

Read part 1 here

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: When you and Rafe run into each other at a party after your breakup, neither of you are sure what comes next.

A/N: I’m sorry that this took me literal ages to finish. I’m not quite sure if this is the part 2 that any of you wanted or expected but I hope you love it all the same!

As I am an adult, all characters I write for are written as adults. Any minor characters will be aged up to the general range of their actor’s age.

Warnings: drinking, drug use, allusions to panic attacks, overall angst

Word Count: 3.3k

-

“Y/N, please.”

“Sarah, there is no way I’m going to that party.” You throw a pointed look at the girl pacing in front of you.

“Please! Look, you won’t even have to see him.”

“You can’t promise that. He’s literally throwing the party at his house.”

“Okay yes, but it’s also my house, and it’s huge so the odds of running into him are low.”

You just shake your head.

“Maybe it’ll even be good for you. It could bring you some final closure. You could even meet someone new.” She grabs your hands giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes she can muster. “Please, Y/N! If you hate it and you’re miserable I promise we can leave.”

“Fine, but you owe me big time.”

-

If someone had told you last week that you would be going to a party hosted by your ex-boyfriend you wouldn’t have believed them, and yet here you are letting Sarah lead you through the crowd of people in her kitchen. You down the drink she puts in your hand, quickly grabbing another before she can stop you.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“Come on, Y/N. You have to at least try to enjoy yourself. Just relax, okay?”

You reluctantly let your friend pull you to the living room to dance, unable to help the giggle that passes your lips when she spins you around and lowers you in a dip. She’s right, of course, and you find yourself having a pretty good time dancing and chatting, but at the back of your mind is always Rafe.

You haven’t been to a party since the breakup, and every aspect of it reminds you of the parties spent by his side. The house is full of memories itself and his friends filling every room don’t help. So you don't hesitate to down drink after drink, in hopes of keeping the painful memories at bay.

Sarah gives you a concerned look after drink five, but you just shake your head. You work at a bar after all, you can handle your alcohol. “I’m fine,” you tell her. “Just having fun.” She doesn’t seem convinced, but you drag her back to the dance floor, cutting her off before she can voice her doubts.

Sarah’s the life of the party, after all this is her world. People keep coming over to say hi and she greets them all happily, introducing you to the ones you don’t know. She spends a particularly long time hyping you up to an old teammate of Topper’s when he comes over to chat. She introduces him as Jake, or maybe Jack, you aren’t entirely sure. He’s pretty cute and nice enough, and it’s clear Sarah is trying to make a connection. You chat with him a bit, mostly using him to distract yourself from your spiraling thoughts.

You expected him to get bored and leave after a while, but he sticks by you and Sarah for the rest of the night. The three of you take a round of shots, then head back to the living room to dance for a bit.

Sarah seems to have finally caught up to your level of drunkenness and starts cracking cheesy one-liners left and right. Your sober self would have thought they were the dumbest jokes in the world, but in your intoxicated state they become the funniest thing you’ve ever heard.

You clutch at Sarah’s arms, laughing so hard that you sway sideways on your unsteady feet, and Jake has to catch you. You and Sarah start laughing again at your clumsiness, and he keeps his arm around your waist to steady you as it becomes clear you can’t keep your balance.

“Yo, Rafe!”

Your laugh cuts off abruptly and you stiffen, the sound of his name making you feel suddenly sober. You turn slowly to face the direction of the voice, and come face to face with Rafe. He's almost close enough to touch, eyes locked on you while Topper rambles obliviously in his ear.

Time slows and you can’t seem to tear your eyes off him, taking in every inch of the man who broke your heart. Your gaze trails back to his face, where your eyes lock on his. Wide, beautiful baby blues, with the pupils blown. He’s been using.

The world crashes back into you then, music too loud and lights too bright. You’ve got to get out of there. You push Jake’s hand away, turning quickly and almost stumbling in the process.

“Y/N?” You hear Sarah’s voice but it’s muted and distant, as if she's underwater.

“I can’t be here. I can’t-” You don’t finish the sentence, breath coming fast and shallow. “Get me out of here.”

“Okay. I’ve got you.” Sarah grabs your hand and pulls you behind her, heading for the exit. You stumble out the front door, hands on your knees as you frantically breathe in the cool air.

Jake has seemingly followed the two of you to the driveway. You can hear him mumbling something behind you, but your brain can’t focus on the words.

You cut him off mid sentence. “Look, Jake.”

“It’s Jack.”

“You seem like a really nice guy, but I can’t handle this right now and you do not want to get involved in my shit. You should really just go back inside and find a different girl with far less issues.” You press the heels of your hands against your eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay.

He nods his head slowly and makes his way back into the house.

Sarah comes to your side, rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles. “Are you okay?”

You shake your head in response. “Just take me home. Please.”

-

Two months since the breakup and Rafe hadn’t seen you once. He knew you and Sarah still hung out and she had told him you were doing well. He had to admit, it was impressive how well you’d been avoiding him, considering the small size of the island. The last thing he had expected was to see you standing in the middle of his living room at a party he was throwing.

When Rafe first heard your laugh through the loud music, he thought he was hallucinating and when he turned and saw you standing there, it was like he stopped breathing. He couldn’t even move, just standing frozen in his spot even after you went running out of the room. Topper had tried to say something, but he didn’t even hear it. He just mindlessly walked up to his room, where he stayed until the party ended.

Now the next morning, Rafe can’t stop replaying the scene in his mind. The man’s hand wrapped around your waist, the way your head was thrown back in laughter, and most of all, the panicked and hurt look in your beautiful eyes when they met his. It was the exact same look you had the night you broke up with him, and it hurt just as bad the second time around.

-

The week after the party goes by like a blur. It almost felt like going through your breakup all over again, just going through the motions, but not really being present. You spend the whole week in your bed, drowning in self pity and bittersweet memories.

A knock on your door pulls you out of your thoughts. You know it’s Sarah, just as it has been every day for the past week, so you just yell from the mound of blankets you’re curled in atop your bed.

“Go away!”

No more than thirty seconds later, you hear the blinds being opened and feel the blankets ripped off your bed.

“Hey!” you complain, pulling them back and snuggling in deeper. You should’ve known better than to give her a key to your apartment all those months ago. Sarah just pulls the blankets off again.

“Nope, up.”

“I don’t want to get up, Sarah. Just leave me be.”

“You’ve been in bed for a week. I know you're upset, but it's time to get up.”

“You say this every day and you have yet to convince me that it’s actually true.”

“I’m serious, Y/N.” Sarah puts her hands on her hips. “Wallowing like this isn’t healthy. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” She sighs before sitting next to you on the bed. “I’m sorry for pushing you to go to the party. I really thought it would be good for you.”

“I know.” Seeing Rafe again had rattled you more than either of you thought it would. “I don’t blame you.”

There’s a beat of silence before Sarah talks again. “You know, you still haven’t told me what made you run out like that. It seems like it was more than just seeing him again.”

You take a steadying breath before rolling over to face her. “It was his eyes. His pupils. He was high again.”

“Oh.” You can tell the statement surprised her, but she tried not to let it show.

“You didn’t know he was using, did you?”

She shakes her head no. “He told me after… everything, that he was going to get clean again, but I guess that hasn’t happened. To be honest, he hasn’t been telling me as much the past couple months as he used to. I wouldn’t have made you go if I had known, I’m really sorry.”

“No, hey.” You sit up, covering her hand with yours. “I’m the one who should be saying sorry. You’ve been so supportive after the break up. I didn’t mean to get in the way of your relationship with your brother.”

“You haven’t. I promise. This is just Rafe’s demon to deal with. There’s only so much I can do if he doesn’t want help.”

You nod.

“Okay!” Sarah jumps up. “Enough of that. You are getting out of bed and we are getting you out of this apartment. It’s time for a girls' day.”

You groan, but don’t protest as she drags you out of bed.

-

You hate to admit it, but the girls’ day was actually going pretty well. Sarah had dragged you to all of her favorite places, her nail salon, the restaurant on the pier, the little boutique with the cutest dresses, and her favorite ice cream shop. Now, the two of you are sitting in the park across the street, trying to finish your ice cream before it melts in the heat.

“Shit!” Sarah jumps up as drops of melted ice cream fall onto her shirt. “Okay, this is getting all over me. I’m gonna run and grab more napkins.” She takes off across the road, swearing as more ice cream stains her clothes. You laugh at her antics and shake your head.

Deciding to give up on the melting cone in your hand, you trek across the park to drop in the trash can. You inspect your clothes for any drops as you turn, causing you to run straight into the person behind you.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

“No, it was my fault-”

You both stumble over your words, cutting off abruptly when you realize who is standing before you.

“Oh, Rafe. Hi.” You take a step back nervously.

“Hey. Um, sorry.” Rafe removes his hands from where they were placed on your arms to steady you, quickly shoving them in his pockets. “I didn’t- Um, I was just looking for Sarah. Wheezie said she was getting ice cream. I didn’t realize you would be with her. I’m sorry.” He looks around uncomfortably.

“No, it’s okay. Um, she just ran back into the shop to get napkins. I’m sure she’ll be right back.”

He nods and you play with your fingers, both standing there awkwardly, unsure of what to say or do.

After an uncomfortable minute, Rafe breaks the silence. “So, I saw you came to the party last week.”

“Oh. Yeah.” That wasn’t what you expected him to say. You decide to avoid the topic of your hasty exit and painful moment that led to it. “Sarah asked me to come. Hope that was okay.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. You're always welcome.” Another beat of silence. “Your boyfriend too.”

That throws you for a loop. “What boyfriend?”

“The guy from the party.” You just give him a confused look. “Jack, right? Friend of Topper’s? I didn’t realize you two were seeing each other.”

“Oh! No, no, I’m not, we’re not.” Rafe visibly relaxes as you explain. “I hardly know him. I thought his name was Jake.”

He chuckles at that and you can’t help but join in. You missed these moments with him. It’s weird feeling so distant from him.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve misread it. To be completely honest with you, I was pretty…” He trails off, not wanting to say the word.

“High?” you offer.

He looks surprised. “You could tell?”

“I know you pretty well, Rafe. I can tell when you’re not all there.”

He nods slowly, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that.” He says it so quietly you almost don’t hear, but you can tell he means it.

You don’t get a chance to ask him if he’s talking about last week or two months ago, because right then Sarah reappears. She gives you an apologetic look, but you brush it off, stepping away so the two siblings can talk.

-

Your conversation with Rafe has been playing in your head for days. You have no idea what to make of any of it, the said and unsaid. Luckily, you don’t anticipate running into him again any time soon. After two months of avoiding him, what’s a couple more days?

You certainly don’t think he’s going to seek you out, so when you leave the restaurant after a long waitressing shift and see him waiting at your car, you’re shocked to say the least.

He straightens when he sees you coming. “Hey.”

“Hey. What are you doing here?”

“I knew your shift would be over soon, and I wanted to ask you something.”

It surprises you that he still remembers your schedule after all this time. You can’t imagine what he came all this way to ask you, but it peaks your curiosity.

“Okay, what’s up?”

Rafe looks nervous, fiddling with keys in his hands, eyes not quite reaching your face. You’re not used to seeing him like this, so used to the confident carefree guy you met so many months ago.

“So I’ve been thinking a lot about our conversation in the park. There’s so many things I’ve been wanting to say to you, so many things to apologize for.” He takes a breath and clears his throat. “I know I hurt you more than I ever thought possible, but do you think we could ever get back to where we were?”

That’s the last question you expect him to ask, and you take a minute to respond, not quite knowing what to say.

“I- I don’t know, Rafe.”

He nods, disappointed but not surprised by your answer. “Do you think you would consider it, if I got clean again for you?”

You take a deep breath, thinking about your answer. You love Rafe more than you’ve ever loved anyone. You can’t imagine anything better than being with him again. But you also know that it’s not as simple as he wants it to be.

“I think you tried to stay clean for me once already and it wasn’t enough. Not that you didn’t love me, there’s just more to it than that.”

You close the distance between the two of you, reaching up to place a hand on his cheek. He leans into your touch, both of you soaking up the comfort of each other’s presence. His eyes gaze hopefully into yours.

“I think if you are truly going to get clean, it has to be something you do for yourself. I can’t be your reason, Rafe. You have to want this for yourself or it’ll never last.”

Rafe looks crestfallen at your words. You know it’s not what he wants you to say, but you also know it’s the truth. He reluctantly pulls your hand away from his face, giving it a squeeze before returning it to your side.

“I understand.” He gives you a small smile. “And thank you.”

You nod back, unable to say anything more in fear that you’ll begin to cry, and he turns away, walking back to his car.

When he pulls out of the parking spot, you climb into the safety of your car and let the tears fall. You hope with every fiber of your being that he finds a reason within himself to get clean, and you wish you could be by his side in the process, but you know you know it’s not possible.

-

“Hey, Sarah? Are you here?”

Rafe knocks on the door to his sister's bedroom. A minute later she pulls open the door, a concerned look appearing on her face when she sees his serious one.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“I talked to Y/N earlier. I want to get clean, for good this time. Will you help me?”

“Yes. Yes, of course I will.” Sarah pulls her brother into a hug. “I’ll be here the whole time. I’m really proud of you.”

Rafe can’t help the tears that fall at her words, squeezing her a little tighter. “Thank you.”

-

It’s been over a month since you last saw Rafe. The day after your conversation outside the restaurant, you got a call from Sarah. She told you that Rafe made a decision to get clean, and that she had helped him find an inpatient rehab facility on the mainland.

You were so happy for him, still are. You know how tough the decision to go to rehab must’ve been for him. You can’t imagine what Ward had to say to his son about it.

Taking your advice to heart, Rafe hasn’t attempted to contact you during his treatment. Sarah gives you frequent updates on his progress when you hang out, giving you peace of mind that he was doing well.

You try your best not to think about Rafe too much, but with Sarah out of town this week to visit him, you can’t control your wandering mind. As you drag yourself through the motions of work, making drink after drink for rowdy customers, you wonder what he’s doing right now.

When you see a tall figure approach the bar, you think you must be hallucinating, the long day catching up to you. There’s no way it’s actually Rafe standing in front of you.

“Hey, darlin’.” He grins at you, and your mind flashes back to nearly ten months ago when the two of you were standing in the exact same spots.

“Rafe,” you breathe out, a smile growing on your face. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m back.”

“You’re back. For good?”

“For good.”

You beam, pushing yourself up and over the bar to throw your arms around him. You hold him tightly for a minute before pulling away. “When did you get back?”

“Just now. This is the first place I came. I had to see you. I’m clean, Y/N. For good this time.” Rafe looks down at you, eyes so filled with love and pride you could cry.

“I have a very important question for you.” He leans closer to you, lowering his voice. “Will you go on a date with me, please?”

You reach up, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck before crashing your lips against his. Rafe holds you close, fitting himself to you as though he never left. You let yourself melt into the kiss, taking in his presence, his comfort, his touch. After a second peck, you pull away slightly to answer his question.

“Yes, I would love to go on a date with you.”

-

Writing masterlist

Tagging those of you who asked for a part 2: @beautifulvoidwinner @icanfixhimclub @proactivetypaperson @holy-macncheese-balls

[janicho88]

When It All Falls Apart-Chapter 1

Pairing- Jensen x Reader

Word count- 1,069

Warnings-Not much for this chapter. Pregnancy talk (Will last a good chunk of the story) But it's not the reader. If I missed something let me know!

A/N- Birthday Post 1. Apparently, I can't write short stories. Not that I've been writing much lately. This was a one shot, then three part, and here we are with another series. Thank you to @writercole and @leigh70 for your help with this. You two are amazing!!

Summary-Y/N Padalecki loved acting on Supernatural.  Working alongside your older brother and your boyfriend, but after ten seasons the guys have chosen to hang up the guns.  Now the three of you are moving on to other projects, but that’s all that needs to change right?  While you have moved to Austin to be closer to your family and boyfriend, Jensen is working elsewhere.  Distance is only the start of your troubles.

Series Masterlist

“Aunt Y/N, Aunt Y/N!” Tom calls for your attention.

“Yes!  I’m watching, I really am,” you tell the young boy as you set your phone down on the table next to you.

“No you weren’t.  You were watching your phone,” your nephew argues back.

“I’m sorry buddy, but you really do have my full attention now.”

With a dramatic huff, the young boy gets himself ready to run through his self-made obstacle course in the backyard.  Your brother Jared and his wife, Gen are in the house talking with your parents and Gen’s while you volunteered to keep Tom busy out here.  The little man is right, you have been staring at your phone, hoping for a message, call, anything to come through.  Giving up on it, you focus on Tom running over to the slide.

“How’s things out here?” a cheery voice questions, as its owner sits down beside you.

“Good, Tom is just about to finish up his obstacle run.  I think he is anyway.  How did it go in the house?” you ask your sister-in-law.

“Great, they are all so excited.”

“Did you have any doubts?”

“Not really.”

“When are you telling Tom?”

“Just before we tell everyone else, so another month or so.  Just in case he spills the beans.”  

“He does take after my brother in the talk first, think later aspect.”

She laughs, “I don’t know how I’m going to handle three of them.”

“Wait, you’re having twins?  You didn’t tell me that!”

“What? No.  Jared, Tom and this baby will make three.”

“Ah, I got you now.  You are going to have your hands full.”

“Definitely.  Are you sure you want to move back out soon?  I’m going to miss having you around.  I’ll split custody of you with Jensen.”

When your boyfriend went out of town for work five months ago and wasn’t able to come home much, or at all, you started sleeping over at your brother's.  That turned into you just temporarily moving into the guest bedroom because you didn’t like staying alone in his empty house.  First, he was gone to film a movie in Chicago for three and a half months, and off to Toronto days after finishing that to start filming The Boys.  You have been working on a Netflix series filming just outside of Austin, then are going to join Walker, when it begins filming in August.  At least Jensen is supposed to be home just before that.  Just under two months to go, you think. 

You try to hide it, but she still catches the slight fall of your face at her comment, but before Gen can say anything, or you can respond, Tom is calling for you. 

“Aunt Y/N, did you see that?”

“I did!  Amazing job Tom, you are getting so fast.”  

“That’s ‘cause I’m four now.  Soon I’m going to start getting as tall as daddy.”

“Yes, you are.”

He goes back to play, and Sadie, Jared’s German Shepherd, chases after.  Gen is sitting there watching you.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just peachy.”

“Are you sure?  You’ve spent a lot of time staring at your phone lately.  I’ve noticed you seem to be a bit down.”

“Hey Y/N,” your brother calls out, “mom and dad are getting ready to hit the road.”

Saved from answering her question you jump up.  “I need to go see my parents off.”

“Tom, Grandma and Grandpa Padalecki are heading back to San Antonio.  Let’s go say goodbye,” your sister-in-law calls to her son. 

You make your way inside before she can continue her questioning.  No, things aren’t really great, but you don’t want to talk about it right now.  Putting a smile on your face you walk inside to face your parents.  Goodbyes are said, hugs are exchanged and before long you are standing in the driveway next to Jared waving as their car pulls out. 

“Mom and dad can’t wait to spoil another grandbaby,” you say as the two of you walk back inside.

“No they can’t.  As happy as they have been for Jeff and I, just wait until you and Jensen have your first kid.  You’re mom’s baby girl, she is going to go nuts.”

“Yeah, hard to say if that’s in the cards,” you mumble, but Jared still caught it.

“Jensen loves kids, I thought he couldn’t wait to have a few?”

“Yeah, I just don’t know if it will be with me.”

Jared stops and stares after you walking ahead of him through the living room, “What??  Did something happen between you two?  Do I need to go up to Toronto and kick his ass?”

“Nothing has happened, just drop it,” you call back over your shoulder as you hit the stairs and head for your room.

Gen is standing in the kitchen doorway and looks over at her husband, “what’s going on?”

“I’m not really sure.  But I’m going to make a call and find out.”

“Ah, no you aren’t.  We don’t know what has her so off.  If something is going on with the two of them, if she’s just stressed and tired, or maybe it really is nothing.  You aren’t going to call and worry Jensen if it’s nothing.”

“She’s my little sister.”

“Who would kick your ass if you made that call.  I’ll see if she’ll talk to me tomorrow.  I’ve noticed she’s been off for a few days, I was trying to give her space.”

“I could find out right now.”

“I know it’s hard, but turn off big brother mode for now.  Don’t make me hide your phone, Mister.”

“Fine, I’ll let you talk to her first.”

“Good boy, now go find your son for his bath please, while I check on my parents outside.”

 Gen leans up and gives Jared a kiss before she walks away.

Up in the guest room you are curled up on the bed trying not to over think what your brother had just said.  You can’t help the tears that begin to fall.  You’ve been with Jensen for four years now, it would be a lie if you said you hadn’t thought about having a family with him before.  He has been your rock, safe place and well, everything for so long.  You just weren’t expecting things to go the way they had.  That steady rock you leaned on had become a landslide. 

Thank you for reading!!

Chapter 2

Tag list

SPNForevers- @winchest09 @flamencodiva @whatareyousearchingfordean @waywardbeanie @deanwanddamons  @emoryhemsworth  @atc74 @sandlee44 @akshi8278  @fantasydevil2002 @writercole​ @440mxs-wife   @nervousfandom @lunarmoon8 @thoughts-and-funnies @downanddirtydean @katelyn--renee​ @that-one-gay-girl​ @lyarr24​ @pineapleavocado​ @siospins2​ ​ @ariesbabe1993​  @graciebear73  @stixnstripesworld​ @spnbaby-67​  @treat-winchesterswith-kindness​ @charmed-asylum​ @winchestergirl2​ @hobby27​  @amyzombie1013​  @sexyvixen7​ @leigh70 @jawritter @krazykelly @nancymcl

WIAFA-

[naiatabris]

Day 1: "First Time"

Fellow BG3 addicts! Have you seen the BG3 February Writing/Creativity Challenge? 29 days of prompts for creativity of all kinds!

This is a little drabble that I couldn't quite mold into a full fic (it was actually a discarded part of "be selfish for me"). It technically responds to the NSFW day 1 prompt, "First Time," but it's a SFW look at how I think the leadup to the first time would have gone for Gale and my sorcerer Alys. I hope you enjoy!

***************

"I can't do this, Gale." Alys shifted away from him as she fought the urge to cry. Tears sprung to her eyes; through the moisture, Gale’s brilliant sky looked even more lovely, and seemed even more devastating. "If you're planning to kill yourself, don't ask me to help you accept it.”

"Alys. I—you know what we face." Gale's expression was sorrowful. "Gods know I have no wish to do this. But Mystra's orders…"

"I don’t give a damn what Mystra ordered," Alys snapped.

She hated how her voice sounded in that moment—childish, petulant, jealous. Once she would have thought that jealousy was beneath her. But she'd spent weeks—months, really—longing for Gale, drawn to his kindness and his brilliance, wishing he would look at her and see more than a magical colleague.

It felt hopeless, though. Alys didn't lack for self-confidence, but even she doubted her ability to compete with a goddess for Gale's heart. She didn't think he was blind to her charms; he'd given her compliments here and there, told her she was radiant after battle. But none of it had led to anything more than words, and blaming Mystra was the easiest and most satisfying way to deal with her disappointment.

Then again, Mystra damn well deserved some blame.

"I don't know what she's playing at, casting you off without a word and then popping back up to tell you to end your own life, but I am not going to help her talk you into it," she continued heatedly.

Gale’s expression pleaded for understanding; his eyes were wide and open, his expression pained. "Alys, I…"

"Stop," she ordered, fighting tears as a torrent of emotion rushed through her.

"If you would just listen…"

 "I'm in love with you, Gale Dekarios," she blurted, the words pouring from her like water from an upended jug, fast and messy and impossible to stop. "And you don't feel the same way and that's fine, but don't you dare ask me to—to sit here under a sky you made to help yourself make peace with dying."

"I made the sky for you!"

Alys had been planning to spring to her feet and storm off. But that changed things. She felt her mouth gape open in the most ridiculous way. "For… me?"

"Yes, for you," Gale said, exasperated. "Because I'm trying to tell you that I'm in love with you. Only now you've said it first and I'm going to have to discard the entire speech I had planned." He shook his head, a little smile playing on his lips despite his irritated tone. "You have the most infuriating yet delightful way of putting me off balance."

He reached for her hand, taking it in his, and Alys twined her fingers against his, scarcely daring to breathe. Gale’s eyes met hers, and she saw an apology in them.

“You really didn’t know?” he asked softly.

Alys shook her head. “I—I thought you could, maybe, if things were different. But it seemed that you had so much else on your mind. I couldn’t imagine there might be room for me.”

“Oh, Alys.” He swallowed, closing his eyes briefly. “I wish—gods, how I wish I had the time to do this properly. To say it all better, to court you the way you deserve. But time is…”

Alys didn’t want him to finish that sentence. She didn’t want to hear him say that his time was short, that his sacrifice was the only way. So she leaned forward and stopped the words with a kiss, gentle and eager, filled with all her affection and warmth and longing. 

And Gale kissed her back, and for that moment as their lips touched, it felt as if they had all the time in the world.

[rosekisspeach]

TAROT READING//Bummie's view on mingkey relationship

Date: 16/Jan/2024 Marker: Selca, Music Deck of Cards: Trungles' Star Spinner Tarot (Inclusive, Diverse, LGBTQ Theme)

Notes Upfront:

I don't ask my cards questions that I already have answers;

I don't prey on information I should not know;

I respect their personal lives and;

This is for FUN ONLY.

ʕ•̫͡• ʔ stream Minho's Stay For A Night!! -ㅂ-

This time, the song I recommend listening to while reading is Bummie's Ain't Gonna Dance

"But let me break it down for ya honey I ain't gon' dance for your loving"

Now...Ready to glimpse into Bummie's view??

Base Card: 10 of Coins Past: King of Cups R Now: 10 of Cups Future: 6 of Swords Past to Now: The Lovers Reverse Now to Future: 8 of Coins Reverse Result Card: 7 of Wands

Please take time looking at the cards before proceeding to read the readings, thanks. . . . . . Readings:

If ming's cards manifest honesty, bummie gives me a very strong sense of rationality. Despite so many cups here (family ties, romantic love, and self-love), bummie is a very goal-orientated individual who doesn't let the floats of emotion impact his career and personal life. He has become a little control freak, hehe. But it is totally understandable. After losing his grandma, jjong and ming (++ refer to the romantic section for elaboration) , bummie is trying to re-gain control through being a workaholic, so to express his heartbroken sadness in work and art. Good news is, he feels very content about his career, financial status, relationships, and where he and ming at. However, one might argue that he is a bit cruel and possibly, selfish - maintaining the status quo because he is one who has more say in their relationship.

Let's look at the past. The reversed king of cups immediately brings that shy bummie back to my mind. He was delicate, sensitive, on-the-edge in the debut times, but full of dreams and determined to make a career out of himself as a multi-talented idol. He didn't hesitant much at the decision of leaving Daegu to Seoul for his dream, even that meant completely new environment, living alone, and not being able to spend more time with his family. Especially his grandmother, the one raised him, and understood him (as I am typing, I still sense the warmness in bummie's heart whenever he thinks of her. He never stops missing her). And that is rationality v.s. emotions from day 1. Kibum has been really hard on himself since the beginning and loneliness, the feeling of out-of-place & isolation had consumed him. But he could handle those...then he met Choi Minho. A bit dramatic? No. Ming made bummie doubting whether the industry (and fans) would welcome someone like him. Worse. He hurt bummie in ways that reminded bummie his wronged times back in Daegu. A less developed city where you see more discrimination and bully against people who want to be themselves instead of being others. That is why bummie got all work up and self-protective when he is around ming. And bummie is as stubborn as ming, he overcomes the side-eyes like breathing fine air.

He didn't know how to overcome ming tho.

It is getting very hard not to analyze it in romantic ways because the lovers dropped, yes, but also because the lovers card is the only major arcana appeared in the result - meaning it is very IMPORTANT. (ming has both the world and the lovers, emphasizing how much he wants to make things right between them, and romantic love could be a good option) However, I will try to give a platonic reading first.

Bummie has been rational dealing with emotions, yet ming is his exception. The frictions, the fights, and the upsets slipped into his heart & left a void that bummie learnt to distance himself from ming and from getting hurt. It doesn't mean bummie doesn't care about ming. He does, deeply. And seeing ming happy makes bummie so happy that he is willing to sacrifice his own desires. Don't forget how sensitive, loving and caring bummie is. He is just too good at choosing rationality instead of his own wants. Taking the left-on-read messages as an example, bummie needed his own space/time to grieve, so he prioritized healing his own heart before ming's enthusiasm to bond. Even if that means hurting ming, means his heart ached at the realization he is hurting ming, and giving away the chance to be closer with ming. Bummie was resolved on the idea of not allowing anything ANYTHING to hurt his precious precious heart.

And looking at the base card, the king of coins, bummie is pretty satisfied with his decision. He enjoys ming being around (in the distance he sets for them), and he wasn't lying when he compares ming to commedes and garçons in the LG Object Collection show. Ming is loyal and bummie knows he can count on that - he loves ming supporting him (both his career and personal life), accompanying him, and comforting him. Ming is not just a good friend, he is family that stays in bummie's softest part. And well, also occasionally way too often gifts bummie. Gifting luxury gifts really isn't ming's love language but serving is, so when ming realized how much bummie loves getting gifts from him he nods yes. This little agreement is very sweet (remember I said ming is always READY to become a good boy for bummie?). In this way, their friendship will grow and profound like evergreen.

Before continuing on, I want to throw a harmless joke here...we have a "clown" in ming's reading, and a "simp" here again. Poor boy. But bummie is just trying to be careful and protective.

!!skip this part if you only see them as platonic friends/co-workers and resume when you see exclamation mark again!!

Oh, come on! Look at the cards here, I bet your reading is more straightforward than mine. A lovers at the reverse signifies difficult communication, one-sided love, and the awareness of impossible love. In this case, I believe all of them are present. Bummie will never say that word if he knows all he gets is rejection. What is even sadder is he never stops loving ming (flowers continue blooming) while he believes so stubbornly that his feeling is unrequited. That he believes one day in the future, ming will fall in love (and get married) like those happy endings in the fairytales. But not with him. When that happens, bummie will stay in the little castle he build himself, enjoy aglass of wine and the cuddles of commedes & garçons, and gives his sincere good wishes. He will continue focus on his works and avoids to even think about the possibility between ming and him because of what he learnt through the years. Bummie is sensitive, and many times a cry baby.

But he doesn't want to cry anymore.

!!resume here!!

Bummie will continue focusing on work>relationship. However, I can see this attitude sets him back sometimes, because the emptiness in his heart withholds him from some deep connections. He dates/interacts with others, of course, but those love are not enough to fill the hole in his heart. In the end, we have the 6 of swords, carrying sorrow and unsatisfied feelings to the future. Bummie is hurt because of their seemingly-ok-but-not-balanced relationship, he is even more hurt because he now realizes that ming is hurt. Payback...almost, but bummie really does not want a sad face on ming. That is why I eagerly pulled up a result card, since 6 of swords can also mean good fruit after growing up from sad lessons. And I am pleased to see the seven of wands here. This card means the difficulties we face to continue to have success. And I believe they will figure things out, in the best way possible to nurture their relationship and career development.

-over-

Feel free to chat or find me on twitter @rosekisspeach

[howl-fantasies]

Hey! It’s me again, after a while; I was wondering )if your requests were open) if I could request a oneshot about (Gotham) Edward Nygma alongside any other Gotham charecter, who have a very pristine and classy significant other who they work alongside, and one day said S/O is sat in their apartment (or place of residence) with their hair in rollers, with a face mask on, eating some sort of fast food watching, some reality TV show like ‘Say yes to the dress’ and is acting very different to their usual somewhat glamorous self.

I thought of this a while ago as I have recently been able to relax as my uni work load has been put on hold for the summer holidays! Woo Hoo! Anyway, I appreciate your work and Ishiguro do not wish to complete this request that is absolutely fine.

- Elsie x

Hello there dearie!

Oh my lord, I absolutely love the concept! Gotham's men NEED to learn nobody never wake up with a full makeup on and don't turn on themselves like the Sims when they jump out of bed to look perfect. I had so much fun imagining our guys having a mental breakdown seeing their S/O "off" mode.

So, here it is :

GOTHAM VILLAIN WALKING ON THEIR S/O WHEN THEY ARE ON THEIR "OFF" MODE

EDWARD NYGMA / THE RIDDLER

Edward was having a "meh" day. One of those during which nothing seems to surprise / interest him. It happens, you know, him being a genius and all, he sometimes finds himself being bored. But you, his stunning, witty, classy partner would know how to make his day better, he knows it.

Unsuspecting, he used the spare key you gave him a month ago and walked inside of your apartment, ready to see his day brightened by the simple view of your impeccable self. How lucky of a man he was.

"Dear?" He would call when you weren't here to greet him like you usually did. He sent you a text before coming, he was certain.

He heard the noise of your TV, pretty loud, so it was why you didn't answer. Was it also why you didn't read his text? Strange, he pictured you more like the kind of person to be lost in a book or something. But that was ok, he also had his times when he needed to put the thing on, to hear the news about him, for instance. Though, the high pitched female voices started to make him doubt you were watching Gotham News.

Nevermind, he followed the voices to your living room and brutally stopped when he saw the back of your head. What was the bright pink fluffy thing in your hair?! He had to open his mouth when he hear you. "Are you kidding me, look at you Meredith?! You look like a freaking pièce montée with that!" Did you hurt your mouth or something, you sounded like something was stuck inside of it (not something under 18 here, everybody keep calm please!)

"My love?" He asked.

"Oh fuckity Shitty Fuck!" You screamed, making one hell of a jump. Now on your feet, you were facing him, absolutely horrified.

You decided you needed to let your "on" mode cool down a bit today and since no robbery nor abduction were on your calendar, you wanted a little "off" time mode only for you.

Off time, meaning here: putting a bluish moisturising mask on your face, putting your favorite pink rabbit ears headband, your fluffy pajamas and slippers. You ordered a pizza earlier with soda and finally decided to watch your favorite trashy tv show. And here you were. Gawking like an idiot in front of your boyfriend, who looked like he was considering calling a priest to exorcise you or something.

"Ok, Ed. Please don't panic." You said, making an appeasing gesture with your hands.

"Don't panic?! Don't p-... Dear, what happened?! Did you encountered Jerome and he forced you in a weird disguise? Or am I hallucinating?!" He squeaked suddenly reaching for his wrist to check his own pulse.

Ok, he was totally panicking... "Ed..." You called again with a sigh, feeling your hand brush against your dry mask on your forehead. "Dear, it's not an attack or a prank or anything. I'm just taking a little time for myself, like... pampering, see what i'm talking about?."

Hearing your resigned voice and the little bit of annoyance in it, he stopped his frantic health check. Ok Eddie, time to think like a grown man.

Please make some space for Mister Riddler in his inner mental theater. Y/N is a human being, pretty much like him. A beautiful human being with a sumptuous as-... *Sorry Ed had to mentally punch him to keep him on track.* Ahem, like he was thinking before being brutally interrupted, Y/N is a human. Like him they have morning hair, don't always wear makeup nor impeccable clothes, and they must have to work hard to keep their skin so smooth and beautiful and...

"Ed?!" Now you are the one looking for his pulse. When you caught his gaze, you find this little light, you know, the one meaning someone FINALLY had put two and two together DUH.

"Y/N, I got it." He said, putting his hands on your shoulders and taking a long inspiration. "Of course i did. I'm a genius. Pampering, taking a self-care day, feel comfy and all..." But he suddenly turned you around to face the TV, "I got everything, except this! I mean, what the hell is this?!" He had to point the tv with his index for good measure.

He never watched "say yes to the dress." Of course he hasn't. Poor dude was too busy cracking puzzles and riddles. He's pretty confused here. You will have to explain how in hell this trashy thing is helping you feel relaxed.

Or don't, after all, it could be a pretty good opportunity to explain your lover you both have your hobbies and have to respect it ;).

Would totally be ok with you taking care of his skin and his nails. And the man would be super proud of it let me tell you. If someone messed with his fresh manucure, he would immediately turn to you / call you and apologize. "I'm afraid, we'll have to plan another self-care session my dear. Sooner than expected". (Relationship goal here!)

--

OSWALD COBBLEPOT / THE PENGUIN

Oswald being Oswald, he would HAVE to walk on you on one of his worst days.

His mood was terrible and he seriously was in need of a good hug, a good vent and probably his mother “special bad days” tea. 

Since you moved in with him a few weeks ago, his first words to poor Olga when he went through the main doors were “WHERE IS Y/N?!” of course he had to yell even if the woman was not even a meter from him, taking his coat, hat and umbrella with a calm we all have to acknowledge. The maid will simply point in direction of the living room, keeping her smirk well hidden. Poor boy is up for a good and well deserved shock in here. 

Oswald would limp in a rush to you, grumbling like an old man all along, and couldn’t wait to have you listen about his terrible day and the bunch of idiots he had to deal with. 

“What the hell happened?!” He heard you scream in outrage when he was a few steps away from your position. He felt a smile growing on his face. Of course you would be concerned about his distress, you were like this with him, a worrywart, but his worrywart and he was the same with you. 

“Thank you! Someone at least is able to read the mood in a room”, he had to say, glaring at Olga who, again, shrugged and get away to dust the stairs. She wasn’t going to miss the show. No way. 

“No seriously, what happened to you poor thing, what did they do to you?”, Y/N cooed from the couch. 

Finally, Cobblepot emerged from the hallway, his mouth ready to answer them when all the air he took to do so was sucked out of him. “M-My dear?” He called. 

Y/N tensed on the sofa. Oh dear hell. Oh no. 

No excuse was good enough to explain your current state: slumped on the couch, a tiger face mask, bright yellow and blue unicorns air clips and the worse? Fluffy pajamas with a penguin and a polar bear walking hand in hand on the snow, with the sentence “Take it slow in the snow” sewn under them. No. Nope. Nu-uh. You were doomed. 

 Y/N smiled awkwardly and made a stupid little wave with their hand. “Oswald...Dear...Well...Hello?” 

His deafening silence was maybe worse than his higher screeches. When he finally opened his mouth, they were covered by the sound of the tv. “Oh my god, yes! Yes it’s the one!” 

His eyes followed the female voice and took a long look at the screen. “Is it “say yes to the dress?” He suddenly asked. 

You were dumbfounded a second, frowning your brows but finally answered a low “yes?” 

He would stay silent and resume his walking until letting himself fall ungracefully next to you and start to watch. 

“Oswald? Are you ok?” 

He nodded once, his eyes still on the screen. “Mother used to watch it with me and we would talk about my day.” 

Oh. Oh! Ok, Y/N can definitely make it their ritual. “Want to do it dear? I have another face mask and was about to ask Olga for another tea. How does it sound? 

Sounds perfect. Cobblepot will 100% adopt this ritual and talk about his terrible day while you apply some cucumber on his tired eyes. He knows how to do perfect manucure (mommy boy, remember?) and would help his S/O with their nails, hair, skin... everything. 

Their self care is as important as taking Gotham’s throne. Anybody interrupting them would be dead. And “Say yes to the dress” will stay, giving the two the perfect opportunity to bond even more about fashion. Oswald is also a very talented tailor after all, so he knows what he’s talking about. Enjoy!  

-- 

VICTOR ZSASZ

Since when didn’t he stalk you? A day or two? He was letting his guard down. What if you suddenly decided to run away, change city, were shot by a lunatic... and here it goes, his brain started to panic. He was pretty busy lately, thanks to Jim, Harvey, and every idiotic cop in the city suddenly realizing their job was in fact to arrest criminals, not taking their money and looking the other way. Aah...Good old days...

Anyway, nothing now was about to stop him to go to his S/O. Even if you gave him a key, (please don’t) he would prefer to pick the locks of your door, you know...for the thrill and everything. And, I mean, I you’re lucky enough to have survived Zsasz, it probably means you have some strong sense of self preservation and weren’t foolish enough to give the sadist your keys. 

When your door finally opened, he went inside of your flat like a shadow, grinning like a madman about the idea of giving you the scare of your dear life. God knows he loved to make you jump and see the rush of adrenaline in your body. 

Your TV was on, he could tell, the sound of a few people resonating inside of your flat like they were with you in your living room. 

Another sound made him stop for a second: someone drinking the end of a soda or a milkshake. Super loud at that. Who would have known the perfect little Y/N, always sipping their beverage like a posh aristocrat was enjoying a cheap one like any commoner on earth. How funny. 

You wouldn’t even realize he was next to the couch. Not until you heard him giggle stupidly making you scream bloody murder and throwing your now empty milkshake at his head. 

Being the troll he is, Victor would dodge it without even giving you a glance and lazily point at the screen saying something stupid like: “the previous one looked better uh?” 

Don’t strangle him on spot. Or do it, not sure here what he may enjoy the most... 

When your heart would finally stops its marathon, you would be able to take a better look at the picture: him, standing next to the couch arm, his left forearm on the top of the furniture, his right hand on his hip and his legs crossed, taking a good look at you, his S/O.

Currently rolled like a burrito in a fluffy purple plaid with only your head, hands and socks visibles. Are these little pizzas on your socks and headband by the way? And are you really wearing a panda face mask? 

You were ready to punch these questions back deep inside of his throat as soon as he will ask them and make him gulp his stupid smirk. Though, you weren’t ready for his gaze to shift from your eyes and face to your table and the “is it pepperoni?” He stupidly asked, pointing at the pizza your were eating earlier like an hungry wolf. You hoped he didn't see it...

Breathe, in and out. It’s the key.

"You really are full of surprises, love." He teased, too happy to see your obvious discomfort.

Option A) giving him the middle finger. Proceed with caution though, he's really good at shooting fingers.

Option B) Scream ugly profanities at his dumb face. Good to vent, but he wouldn't give a f. Just enjoy it more and more.

Option C) slouch back on the couch and throw him the pizza's menu. "you pay for the next and the milkshakes." And wait for his lazy ass to seat next to you, because he will. Oh. And if you feel confident enough, don't hesitate to slap a ridiculous face mask on his already ridiculous face. Yes he doesn't give a shit about looking like an idiot but you wouldn't be the only idiot in the room anymore. 👍

--

A/N - I hope you liked it, have a beautiful day dearie 🥰💐

[beyonddarkness]

Yes.

We set some essential groundwork in the first three chapters.

Let us approach Sauron’s ultimate question and finally delve into the meat of this whole thing.

Sauron is Evil.

Galadriel: “One cannot satisfy thirst by drinking seawater.” Sauron: “Then what is it?”

“Why do you keep fighting?”

He knows exactly why Galadriel keeps fighting, and wants her to stop galloping for a moment, realize what has kept her fighting for centuries, and admit the truth. He has already given her the answer to this question several times. Does she keep fighting to avenge her brother, and everyone else she has lost? No. Then, what fuels her obsession?

Recall the showrunners’ statements.

1) Sauron sees Galadriel, and “knows that what she needs more than anything else is to find the evil that has plagued her for so long, and save Middle-earth. So, he self-styles himself as the person that she will trust” (JD Payne, TROP Podcast). When does he ‘self-style’ himself as Halbrand? Before they meet on the raft. In order for it to be a possibility that he did it specifically to make Galadriel trust him, he would have to be aware of her existence before the raft.

2) “Did she jump off the boat because she sensed Halbrand nearby?” (JD Payne, TROP Podcast).

3) “Is her obsession (which character after character in the show tells her is not a good thing)—Is he CALLING her to him?” (Patrick McKay, TROP Podcast).

Let us set this in stone, once and for all. I am 100% certain of this:

Sauron Called Galadriel to Him

“I strove to create a unique interval between each theme’s first and second note. If each major theme had a unique first interval, listeners would be able to identify that theme in only two notes, the smallest amount of musical information possible. This would be an exercise in efficiency! The more iconic I hoped a theme would be, the rarer should be its opening interval. […]

“Each of these themes has a unique quality in sound and tone, but by beginning with a distinct first interval, they all become instantly recognizable in a matter of seconds.” Bear McCreary, Bear’s Blog

On The Boat [0:07 in the clip below], a tiny voice echoes the first two notes of Sauron’s theme (the “sinister downward third,” as Bear puts it):

Here is what that exact voice sounds like in all its glory: ["Nampat burzum-ank."] Death into darkness.

I was genuinely disturbed when I saw where it was placed in episode 1 …

The little voice is Sauron himself, calling from afar. Galadriel (in a trance) is immediately pulled back by his lure. Thondir, who sincerely cares for Galadriel’s well-being, notices that something is horribly wrong, and desperately calls BACK to her, as if to counter the pull, and snap her out of whatever trance she is in. He knows that this is not normal. Someone is ‘tapping into the powers of the Unseen World.’

In the end, the voice is no longer a distant cry, but is at full-strength. Sauron tries to twist the motives of Galadriel’s friends, in order to make her believe that everyone else would hold her back. “All others look on you with doubt.” This directly calls back to Thondir, who (as Sauron might put it) mutinied against her and tried to drag her off to Valinor. Thus, we see his cunning.

Sauron vs. Thondir (and/or the Valar)

That small voice is not the only time Sauron sings.

"[…] in after years [Sauron] rose like a shadow of Morgoth and a ghost of his malice, and walked behind him on the same ruinous path down into the Void." The Silmarillion: Valaquenta

Thondir and Sauron have a contest. From the first ‘yoo-hoo’ to Galadriel, to the sudden cut-off in the music, there are many instruments and voices competing against one another. Meanwhile, Galadriel is disoriented (one indication being the morphing of Thondir’s voice, like she’s underwater).

Thondir is one who knew that Galadriel’s obsession was not a good thing. Galadriel. Give me your hand, he says anxiously. He knows that whatever is happening is so dire, that he has to guide her by the hand in order to ensure her safety.

That is why he panics in the end. All others on the boat are already immersed in the light, seemingly unaware of anything else around them. In a desperate attempt to save Galadriel from peril, Thondir calls her name once more, and is the last one to look forward; but his arm is still stretched out to her.

All the while, Sauron pulls back on Galadriel. No, come to ME! he says in earnest, somehow more alluring and inviting. He says some other things, too, but we will discuss that in a few moments.

The music alone sounds like a type or version of the contest between Ilúvatar and Melkor [Morgoth], in the Ainulindalë. It is ‘A Shadow of the Past’, one might say. The entire story applies, but for now, let us focus on the end—

Ilúvatar’s music: “Deep and wide and beautiful, but slow and blended with an immeasurable sorrow, from which its beauty chiefly came.”

Melkor’s music: “Loud, and vain, and endlessly repeated; and it had little harmony, but rather a clamorous unison as of many trumpets braying upon a few notes. And it essayed to drown the other music by the violence of its voice.” [bray: to speak or laugh loudly and harshly.]

"[…] but it seemed that its most triumphant notes were taken by the other and woven into its own solemn pattern." The Silmarillion: Ainulindalë [Whether on purpose, or by accident, this is exactly what we hear in this music.]

Let us solidify the music in our minds, before watching the video. Just before the battle commences, there is a continuous, confusing stream of voices in the background, as if to clutter Galadriel’s mind, and it does not stop.

The clip below begins as the birds fly from Valinor through the clouds (which reminds me of the beginning of the Ainulindalë), and ends with Galadriel leaping from the ship.

“I hear it said that when you cross over, you hear a song. One whose memory we all carry. And you are immersed in a light more intoxicating than any sensation in all of Middle-earth.” -Elrond

Lyrics from Bear's Blog: The Lord of the Rings: 101

0:00 - ["Mélamar, eldamar, kene kala lessen."] Home, Elvenhome, light us-in.

0:12 - ["Yánalva fanyamar; Yo hapan lirilve."] Our holy place, cloud home and as one we sing, as one.

0:27 - ["Lennar, tul'valme; Entula lumequentalelmo."] We will come to you; returning upon the hour.

1:04 - ["Mélamar, eldamar, kene kala … "] Home, Elvenhome, light us-in.

1:17 – [" ... lessen."] Galadriel looks back at the dagger. Sauron begins tapping into the powers of the Unseen World.

1:19 – "Do you know why a ship floats …"

1:24 – ” … and a stone cannot?”

1:30 – Gil-galad, Elrond, and Celebrimbor witness the Stranger soar across the sky. “Means [Sauron’s] time is near.” – Waldreg (1×04). 1:46 – Sinister downward third. 1:55 – Galadriel momentarily snaps out of her trance. 1:57 – Cluttering voices begin and worsen until the end. 2:04 – Sauron calls for Galadriel; Galadriel is immediately pulled back towards the dagger. 2:08 – The Battle begins.

2:13 – “Galadriel!”

[sinister downward third]

2:30 – “Give me your hand.”

2:42 – Sauron’s horns blare to drown out Thondir. Galadriel looks back at the sounds of said horns.

2:45 – ” … the lights shine just as brightly reflected in the water as they do in the sky.”

2:49 – Sauron’s horns fight against the strings.

2:51 – “How am I to know which lights to follow?”

2:55 – ["Etsir … "] Near … “Sometimes we cannot know until we have touched the darkness.”

3:02 – [" … amna, vanyalyë."] … the rivermouth, you depart. Sauron’s ostinato accompanies Galadriel’s theme, as she decides to touch the darkness again. Sauron is now SCREAMING: “Come to me!”

3:15 – ["Sirya tumne lisse- … "] Flow deep by your grace. Thondir: “GALADRIEL!”

3:22 – [" … -lyanen. Namárië!] Farewell. (Go towards goodness.)

3:36 –

"In the midst of this strife, whereat the halls of Ilúvatar shook and a tremor ran out into the silences yet unmoved, Ilúvatar arose a third time, and his face was terrible to behold. Then he raised up both his hands, and in one chord, deeper than the Abyss, higher than the Firmament, piercing as the light of the eye of Ilúvatar, the Music ceased.” The Silmarillion: Ainulindalë

The pull that Sauron had on Galadriel must have been incredibly powerful, in order for her to reject the light of her home, right on its doorstep.

So, here’s the clip. Notice Galadriel’s peculiar attachment to the dagger. Even Thondir knows that something is incredibly wrong with the way she cleaves to it. He is relieved when she lets go: Whew! Okay. Everything’s fine, or so he thinks (his concern breaks my heart).

What did Sauron say to her?

Galadriel is not bound by an oath, as she believes (see Chapters 2 and 3). When Sauron infiltrates her mind in episode 8, he tells her (in a horrifically convincing manner) what she believes; but it was not the first time.

Galadriel: “No penance could ever erase the evil you have done.”

Sauron: “That is not what you believe.” Galadriel: “Do not tell me what I believe!” Sauron: “No.”

Sauron was the reason Galadriel leapt from the ship, but she is not lying when she tells Elrond this:

“I leapt from that ship because I believed in my heart I was not yet worthy of it. I knew that somehow, my task here was not yet complete.”

This is what Sauron wanted her to believe, so he planted it to push her closer to what will get him what he wants. One might say that Sauron thinks that what Galadriel needs more than anything is to find him and save Middle-earth. However, he does not care about anyone but himself; it is for his own gain.

“[…] W.H. Auden wrote an essay on Tolkien, and he said something along the lines of, “Evil loves only itself.” [“Evil, defiantly chosen, can no longer imagine anything but itself.”] So I think in his pitch to Galadriel, it cannot mean that he loves her or that there’s any kind of romantic relationship. There should be no ambiguity around the fact that Sauron is evil—he’s terrible, and he’s using Galadriel to enhance his power.” Charlie Vickers, The New York Times

Utilizing songs of power (with which he defeated her brother in a contest), the Master of Deceit calls to her, in order to convince her to leap from the ship, saying: You will not be worthy of a glorious rest until you fulfill the task to which you are bound. Find me, so that together, we can save this Middle-earth.

Here is the silver lining:

'[…] And thou, Melkor, shalt see that no theme may be played that hath not its uttermost source in me, nor can any alter the music in my despite. For he that attempteth this shall prove but mine instrument in the devising of things more wonderful, which he himself hath not imagined.' The Silmarillion: Ainulindalë

The Epic Cue

Here is my personal opinion: I have come to the tentative conclusion that The Epic Cue has something to do with victoriously tapping into the powers of the Unseen World, at a perilous cost.

Instead of the [G#, A], I am specifically talking about the [D, C#, A], indicated by the timestamps before each clip below. The perilous results of tapping into said powers, in each instance, are shown in the pictures associated.

In the case of The Boat, it was not Galadriel tapping into the powers of the Unseen World, but rather Sauron himself, as established above. He coaxed Galadriel to leap from the ship, in order to pursue a perilous path. He wins. “Sometimes the perilous path is the only path” (Galadriel 1×08).

0:06

There is something to be said about Sauron ‘having the mastery,’ as it says in The Silmarillion.

"[…] Felagund strove with Sauron in songs of power, and the power of the King was very great; but Sauron had the mastery […]" The Silmarillion: Of Beren and Lúthien

In the beginning of the season, he is rebuilding his power, but knows much more about these things than the Stranger does at this point (who uses them instinctively). So, the Stranger’s cue is short-lived (playing over seemingly smaller stakes), while Sauron’s is mightier (involving higher stakes).

The Stranger taps into these powers at a cost, when he saves Nori, Poppy, and Malva from the three wolves.

Might I add that in both of these instances (the boat and the wolves) the ones using these powers are the only two known Maiar in the world.

Again, I am focusing on the [D, C#, A].

0:04

The next instance is a bit scary. Oh, sure, it is victorious, but not for anyone except Sauron. Depending on your loyalties, it could qualify as a perilous result.

If you are wondering what Sauron did this time, tapping into those powers, look no further than the title of the track in which this cue is found (taken from Episode 6): Transformed by Darkness. The track begins with the scene in the barn (which can fill up an entire chapter by itself, but we shan’t get distracted yet), where Adar says, “It would seem I’m not the only Elf alive who’s been transformed by darkness,” and ends with Theo’s dilemma (not an accident).

"When he saw that many [of the Noldor] leaned towards him, Melkor would often walk among them, and amid his fair words others were woven, so subtly that many who heard them believed in recollection that they arose from their own thought." The Silmarillion: Of the Silmarils and the Unrest of the Noldor

The track includes the log conversation, where Galadriel tells Sauron to be free of whatever he’d done before, and that she felt the same thing he felt (after the ‘bind it to my very being’ stunt).

"[…] But there’s also a good case to be made that every step of the way, he sees her as his ticket back to power, and he’s playing hard-to-get to get her to dig in; to get her to do what he needs her to do.” Patrick McKay, TROP Podcast

He carefully crafted the words and ‘songs’ that he used, so Galadriel would trust him. This led her to say exactly what he wanted her to say: “I felt it, too.” All of this he could use as leverage in the end.

It is the same Epic Cue, as featured above, just shifted up a half-step, from [D, C#, A] to [E♭, D, B♭].

Behold his costly victory:

** Reached the daily Audio Limit with this post, so go to the blog to read and listen to the rest! **