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sukunasteeth · 2 months

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Wrestle Me

Tokyo had reached record temperatures that day. The sun was roasting the city, every street was a mirage from the bending light of its shine. The weather recently had been sending everyone either inside or to the nearest water source.

Yuji had gone to the beach with Megumi and Nobara in a futile attempt to escape the heat that had Japan in the sweaty palm of its hand. They had offered you and Sukuna a spot on the railway car there, but you knew that Sukuna was too exhausted from his recent missions to do any sort of going out. Not to mention the draining effect of the heat stacked on top of that. You were in the mood to just enjoy each other's presence.

The two of you were sheltered away in the darkness of his bedroom, lying sprawled out across the floor in front of his small rotating fan. Sukuna and Yuji never turned the A/C on. Since they had moved into their own apartment, the brothers had become rather stingy when it came to the bills. The air didn't start up until the room felt like a sauna, and it turned off much too soon to give relief.

Sweat continued to drip down the both of your spines, but Sukuna didn't seem to mind it. He was enjoying the peace of his day off, dressed against the heat in nothing but his boxer briefs and a tank top. He had his head resting in the cushion of your lap, his eyes were transfixed on an old leather notebook that he had stolen from one of the professors a few days ago. It was in a language you hadn't taken at the academy yet, but Sukuna tells you it was early notes on jujutsu from the old world.

You had been scrolling through your phone, occasionally showing him something you found amusing or anything that reminded you of him. He only gave you a reaction to maybe 10% of the material, but it was fun to see him roll his eyes, or scoff and wave your phone away.

The longer you remained in the same spot,however, the sweatier you felt and the more frustrated with the heat. You tried not to squirm under Sukuna's head, remaining as still as possible as though he were a sleeping animal taking refuge on your lap. Boredom, however, eventually pulls the last straw that has you stirring.

An idea comes to mind.

Sukuna glances up at you, as though he expects you to show him something else on your phone, but instead his attention is caught by the mischievous glint you feel twinkling in your eye.

"Wrestle me." You beam at him.

It was somewhat of a joke.

Compared to your boyfriend, it was clear who would win in a pinning tournament between the two of you.

Sukuna, who enjoys kickboxing in his spare time. Sukuna, who has never missed an opportunity for a fight in the decade that you've known him, who could dead-lift your torso with ease if he so desired.

Sukuna, who has never touched you with anything but heart wrenching gentleness.

His eyes widen at your command, the notebook he had previously found so interesting has been completely forgotten. He seems to catch the drift of your lack of entertainment, and quickly plays along. His surprise melts into an amused little smile.

"Oh yeah? Think you got a chance, kid?" He taunts, placing the book beside him. His attention now fully focused on you.

You snort, you were only a year younger than he was, but he loved to emphasize it when he could. Sukuna mistakes your noise as a scoff and cocks a daring brow at you.

You love when he’s in a playful mood.

"I could take you any day." You tease. Part of you is running for the hills inside, but another part is having fun with the big bad wolf. That was the constant state you were in with him. Sukuna didn't even have to try and he always had your heart racing.

Sukuna makes an impressed noise, "That, I'm well aware of. I don't know about in a fight, though."

You groan at his joke, shaking your head in disappointment, but Sukuna grabs onto your chin before you can get even one turn of your head out.

"Let's find out."

Ten minutes later, you're drenched in twice the amount of sweat as you were before, but Sukuna has barely lost a drop. He's got you twisted like a pretzel beneath him, holding your limbs in just the right way so that you're completely incapacitated in his hands.

Your first mistake was thinking Sukuna knew how to play-fight. The only person he had been remotely close with in your childhood was his twin brother, and the two of them had often "wrestled", but it only ended when one of them had blood dripping out of their noses. You learned early on not to question it. Having two boys as your childhood best friends had you turning your gaze from a lot of things, in fact.

The only thing you questioned now, was how you were going to get out of your current predicament. You were sure Sukuna was having a blast practically hogtying you with his hands, and now he knew how easy it was to get you in this position. It was a double whammy that would surely effect you in the future.

"Did you really think I'd go easy on you?" The weight of his chest presses into your back as he leans over you, sending hot breath over your neck. "How cute."

"Okay, okay! I give!" You whine, trying to wriggle out from beneath him. You had to admit that it was getting slightly painful, but Sukuna was well aware of your pressure points and where to stay away from. You still had one last trick up your sleeve, however.

Satisfied with your surrender, he nips at your ear with his teeth before he slides off of you and relinquishes his effortless grip. Before he can fully turn away, however, you're leaping onto his back like a monkey and tackling him into his mattress. It was a dirty tactic, but you had been wrestling your childhood best friend Yuji since the two of you were in elementary school, so you were no stranger to tricks of the trade. Especially the feign defeat card.

He blinks up at you. It was a difficult task to take Sukuna off guard, but you had accomplished it.

"Sucker." You playfully stick your tongue out at him, blowing a raspberry. Inside your chest, your heart is racing like a hummingbird’s wings. It’s almost like Sukuna knows this, because even though you’re the one on top of him, he’s still looking at you with an amused grin- unaffected by your change of position.

"You have a higher pain tolerance than I thought you did." He notes, tilting his head to the side like he's considering something. "What can we do with that new information, I wonder?"

It was another intimidation tactic. A good one. It had chills running down your spine. But, you weren’t going to let him win so easily this time. Suddenly, you were interested in how far you could push him, as well.

"Come on 'Kuna," You chide, your nose is practically touching his- a rabbit pressing against the snout of a hungry wolf. "Can't take defeat, my love?"

"Oh doll," His voice is a husky drawl, rough hands slide their way from their resting places on your hips to slip under the hem of your shirt and brush the skin of your waist. You try to contain your shiver. "You're playing a very dangerous game."

One last wave of confidence sweeps through you as you lean down, just like he always did, to murmur lowly into his ear. "And you're losing."

That did it.

Sukuna grabs onto your waist so quickly, you barely have time to register it before he loops his leg around your knee and easily flips the two of you back to your original position. You're giggling beneath him as he gathers your face into his hands, pressing calloused fingers into your cheeks. You've gotten under his impenetrable skin. You didn't know it, but you always did.

No matter how strong a man is, he will always lose to the woman he loves.

Sukuna was slowly starting to accept that.

#jjk #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #fluff #little something something #is it obvious how obsessed I am with the thought of him pinning someone down?#makes my heart go bingabangdingdang #also can we talk about this manga panel #my writing

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ophelianated · 2 years

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I'm too lazy to make it, but:

the Why Do We Have Hands? meme but with Austin from the Prof. Challenger series

#spoilers for prof. challenger series in the tags #mans is giving Heathcliff from Big Hero 6 #he had one (1) fuck to give in his entire life and he chose to give it to that walking life insurance payment of a man #challenger: the world is ending later this evening #austin: very good sir #he finds out that he died for a day along with the entire world #and this bitch's only concerns are a) his car and b) that his employer didn't rob a bank when he had the chance #said employer rolls down the stairs wrestling with a journalist (it's a tuesday)#and he opens the door for them with the same stone face he wore when he let the journalist walk into his doom #ICONIC #i will rob a bank with you bebe #i would die for austin #my little meow meow #he has like ten lines in the entire series and it's honestly criminal

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damiansgoodgirll · 2 months

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hi, can you please make a story where reader is young like 19 or 20 and everyone loves her and she’s a pretty close friend with basically everyone in the wwe and one day she has a match with like Nia or someone else and she gets injured so bad that everyone around her is worried sick.? maybe she has a closer feeling with the judgement day or Jey but like if you can mention more wrestlers it would be amazing. Thank you so much. I love your writing

i love this type of requests cause it makes me travel back in time when i was 13 and i used to play wrestling with my best friend (don’t do this at home) and i remember everyone loving me…anyway

sorry for making nia the bad one!

the judgment day x reader (platonic) / jey uso x reader (platonic)

home is where you belong

you never thought you would find it but you did. the place where you felt safe and loved, the place that you called home.

you’ve been wrestling since you were fifteen and once you got eighteen wwe signed you in. two years later now you were living your dream;

travelling from city to city, having sleepovers with your wrestling friends, gossiping about what people you shipped together, talking nonsense with seth rollins and having becky teasing him, watching and learning new techniques from jey uso, training with the judgment day.

everything was a dream for you.

the fans loved you. even if they weren’t fans about your character, they still liked your persona and your positive energy. you had no enemies, you pretended of course, but you had no enemies at all.

many elders took you under their protective wing and you couldn’t be more grateful.

you we are currently training with rhea as you had a big match against nia and you wanted to be ready. you both already knew that the judgement they were gonna help you win this match because, according to the script they had to ruin this moment for you and for nia, but you didn’t care because you knew how fun it was going to be.

so you were ready to kick her ass.

nia, otherwise, wasn’t as happy as you thought. the idea of losing against some teenager like you made her blood boil. she was more experienced than you so why would you had to win? plus, by getting helped by the judgment day?

she didn’t like the idea but she didn’t tell you.

she had something else in mind.

so you were getting ready, your make up flawless, your hair perfectly posing over your shoulders and a smile that could make happy anyone who met you.

you were so ready.

you heard the “boos” when nia entered the ring and you heard everyone cheering for you when you entered. that’s how it was supposed to be so why did she have an envious look in her eyes?

you pretended it was nothing and you started the match as it was supposed to go.

ten minutes later, the judgment day music echoing through the arena, just like the script said.

rhea distracting nia.

following exactly what the script said.

so what did go wrong?

nia attacked rhea. it wasn’t in the script but rhea knew how to handle situations like that.

you could tell by damian’s look that this wasn’t supposed to happen but you took it as an opportunity to distract nia and make your final move, move that made you win that match.

earlier on the schedule but still, you had your win.

“someone beat your ass…” rhea screamed into the microphone, unleashing mixed reactions through the crowd. everyone cheering for you because of your win, not everyone was happy with the way you won but still, you better than nia.

that set her off.

she didn’t like the idea of a teenager beating her but she hated even more the way the crowd laughed at her face, making her seem weak, not strong enough.

the judgment day were leaving the arena, just like the script told them to do after your victory, so what didn’t go as planned?

you were still in the ring, fans clapping for you, the referee still held your hand high and as you were about the leave, nia hit you behind your back.

this wasn’t prepared.

you fell to your knees and before you could do something she dragged you through your hair into the middle of the ring.

“nia?” you said almost too terrified.

the referee tried to get into the two of you but nia pushed her away, hurting her.

“who do you think you are?” she said hoovering you with her body.

“nia what?” you weren’t understanding. why was she doing that? she was your friend, she wasn’t supposed to hurt you.

“don’t act so dumb…” she whispered before attacking you.

for real this time.

nothing prepared.

she was really hurting you. your face first, then your stomach, she kept hurting you, punching you over and over until you couldn’t feel your body anymore.

your head and nose were bleeding.

referees weren’t able to stop her either.

rhea and damian were the first one to intervene when they saw that the referee couldn’t stop her.

rhea attacking her, the referees, trying to get between the two of them, so damian so that as an opportunity to shield you with his body. he could handle nia attacking him.

“damian?” you almost cried.

“hey…shh it’s okay, i got you” he said, slowly moving your hair out of your face and it was in that moment that he saw your bleeding face.

“dam…it hurts” you said clenching your stomach. he felt his heart breaking. the way you were clenching your chest, the way your hands trembled a little, your bleeding face and your eyes full of tears.

he was mad. furious.

“i know…ssshhh…we will take care of you i promise” he whispered.

the crowd was cheering, assuming everything was scripted, but there was an uncomfortable silence going behind the scenes.

everyone watching what was happening in horror.

becky had tears in her eyes and seth was trying to keep her and himself calm because he was mad. cody was speechless. jey ran out of his locker room just to be stopped by the security. dom and finn paralysed in their steps as they were watching everything happening right before their eyes.

that’s what it went wrong.

thankfully, rhea and referees were able to drag nia away from the ring. she knew she went too far but her pride was something she wasn’t willing to give up.

damian was still in the ring with you as medical staff came and assisted you.

you already fell unconscious when damian lifted you up in his arms and dragged you down onto the stretcher waiting for you backstage.

you were rushed to the hospital and honestly no one felt like continuing the show but they had to. jey was next but all he wanted to do was rush to the hospital and stay by your side.

you didn’t even realised that when you woke up you weren’t in some hotel room but you were in a hospital bed. your head still pounding when you remembered what happened.

the doctor told you that you had a few broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder,a broken wrist, a sprained ankle and a heavy concussion. not to count all the bruising and red spots forming all over your body.

then what you didn’t want to hear : no wrestling for at least four months.

your body needed to rest and heal first.

you were trying to hold in all the tears but eventually let them out when the doctor left your room. you were supposed to have your first main event at wrestlemania and now that dream was gone.

while still crying a soft knock echoed through the room.

damian first, then rhea with the rest of the judgment day.

“hey…” she whispered but her heart broke when she saw the tears in your eyes “why are you crying pretty girl?” she asked sitting on the chair next to your bed, followed by the boys who sat on the small couch right beside the window.

“bye bye wrestlemania…” you said with a broken voice.

everyone knew how much you’ve been waiting and wanting that moment.

“i’m so sorry y/n…” she said softly.

“its just it’s not fair…” you whispered “why did she do that? i thought she was my friend…i would have never done that to her rhea…never”

“i know love…because you know your value, you’re kind and sweet and loving and unfortunately you’ve met someone who thought about her ego and her ego only…” she said smiling sadly at you.

“what matters now is that you rest and take your time to heal” damian joined the conversation “you scared everyone back there…” he said making you smile a little.

“i didn’t mean to…”

“we know…or you could tell them that yourself” finn joked.

“what?” you whispered.

“everyone’s here…jey almost punched the doctor when they wouldn’t let him see you” dom laughed “becky is here with seth, cody and shayna are here too…girl you even scared gunther”

“i don’t believe it…” you laughed.

“we can make you believe that” jey said entering the room with a beautiful bouquet of red roses. everyone followed him too.

you were relieved in seeing so many people caring for you in a way not even your friends cared about. you felt loved and appreciated.

you’ve spent the next hour talking nonsense with them all and you almost forgot about the wrestling problem thing.

almost.

when everyone left for your check up with the doctor, the only one who stayed was jey.

he was the only one who noticed the shift in your mood and he knew what was like staying away from what you love do the most, so if you needed a shoulder to cry on, he was willing to do that, if you needed a friendly advice, he was willing to do that too.

“care to tell me what’s on your mind sweetheart?” he asked when the doctor left.

“i’m going to miss all of these…four months of not seeing you all days, no wrestling, no wrestlemania and probably no summerslam too…it’s just, i feel useless and empty not doing what i love jey” you confessed.

“you’re not useless at all, and it’s normal to feel nostalgic right now but it’ll pass and i promise you that you’ll be on your feet for when summerslam comes! i promise you” he said sitting next to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder - the healthy one - “i wish i could have done something to stop her but i was the useless one…i hated seeing you in so much pain…she lost her mind and finally she lost her job too”

“what?” you whispered.

“yup! got fired…you know you could sue her right?” jey asked.

“i would never do that…”

“i know…you’re too kind for that…what she did was wrong and completely unacceptable but i’m glad you’re here…” he said softly kissing your head.

“ill be here for a long long time…this is my home after all” you smiled, making jey laugh too.

and it was in that moment that you truly realised how important those weird people were for you, and how important you were for them.

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revehae · 2 months

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tw // noncon. yes its rape dont ask me no stupid fucking questions

yesterday (over a month ago technically) i couldn’t stop thinking about apologetic rapist haechan like ugghhhhhhhhhh

walk with me. this is a man you trust to have in your home, spending time watching movies and playing video games together in between your stressful lives… you’ve confided in each other about all of your problems, big or small, and chat about everything under the sun. you give him advice that he doesn’t listen to, then has the audacity to complain afterwards. he’s got a spare key to your place and you’ve got one to his, and all your boyfriends over the years feel like they have to compete with him, but the thought is ridiculous to you. compete with haechan romantically? it’s laughable. sure the guy has seen you half naked, but it’s not like that, you’re comfortable, you’ve never seen him ogle you or heard him make some unsolicited comment about your body that even strangers have made… why would anyone have to compete with haechan? he’s your best friend, nothing more, nothing less.

you’re not sure how you could’ve been so wrong. the way you see it, the haechan you thought you knew wouldn’t take advantage of how comfortable you feel around him, the fact that you let him share a bed with you every now and then. it’s not necessarily strange for his hands to wander around you, he’s clingy and unconsciously does it in his sleep, but it is strange for them to be so firm at your hips, nails digging into your skin, sounds that aren’t soft snores falling from his whiny lips.

confusion dwindles. betrayal stings your eyes. haechan sees it, too. he lifts his head up, tosses the hair out his face, and meets your eyes. there’s no arrogant shimmer to his eyes or smug smile to his face; the opposite. there’s shame and guilt and sadness, you want to think, and he beats you to a word, uttering, “i’m sorry…”

but he’s not sorry enough to stop. not even when you struggle against him, trying to wrestle your way out of his arms. you and haechan would play fight all the time, but you never realized just how strong he really was until you try to wrestle out of his arms and he pins your arms in place, whispering, “please. i don’t want to hurt you.”

but he would if he felt he had to. you’re in disbelief, the ugliest feeling festering inside your chest as it tightens so hard you can hardly breathe. when you beg him to stop, he says, “i can’t.” because you feel so much better than he’s ever imagined, and he’s imagined it a lot, and he just “can’t resist” himself. his eyes are misty, out of pleasure or out of shame, but either way, he needs to do this. he has to.

he can’t look you in your eyes. he can’t look at your face at all, really. he knows what he’ll see, the tears pouring from your eyes that gleam with a fierce blend of betrayal and despair and ire and disbelief. haechan doesn’t want to see you that way. having to hear your sniffles, knowing it’s all his fault, is bad enough. but in spite of the pangs of guilt that really do tear at his chest, he’s still in the middle of you, holding you in place, using your body for his own relief. so he just keeps his clasp on your hips, squeezing his eyes closed, and mutters, “i’m sorry…,” over and over and over again, hoping it’s enough. hoping that you’ll bring yourself to forgive him.

it’s not like it’s long before it’s over. haechan’s not proud of it but you’re all he’s been able to think about and it’s not like he’s ever hit a pussy raw before, if ever. you feel so filthy when he pulls out of you - his cum gushing out of your hole - and so broken. haechan says he’ll help you clean, but you’re rushing over to the bathroom and locking yourself inside before he has a chance to do anything. he hurriedly pulls on his pants and spends a long ten minutes knocking on the door, trying to get you to open it even after you scream at him to leave you alone, but he can hear the shower running from the other side. and he decides to leave you alone for now.

haechan tries to make it up to you, he really does. he doesn’t want you to hate him. you have to understand. your body was calling to him, enticing him, and he tried so hard but he couldn’t control it anymore. he’s gone when you return from a really, really long shower that you took in hopes of feeling less dirty, but to no avail. every bit of relief you feel at his absence, which isn’t much considering that pieces of him linger everywhere - on your sheets and in your aching bones and everywhere in between - fades when you hear the front door click open and he returns with your favorite takeout in hand. it’s his way of showing you that he’s still your best friend, that he still knows and loves you, that he’s sorry.

you’re not hungry. you have no appetite after that. haechan tries to get you to eat, but the second he comes near you, you flinch away from him. you never thought the day would come, but you are scared of him. he’s not the haechan you thought he was, no matter how hard he tries to convince you that he still is. you beg him to go, to leave you alone, but he doesn’t listen. he never does.

#tw: noncon #lee haechan smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #haechan smut #nct smut #nct dream hard hours

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swordsandholly · 1 month

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A little sneak speak into a poly 141 x reader pro wrestling AU I’m working on for WIP Wednesday.

“Hello.” You blink up at the imposing figure above you.

Dark eyes stare down at you from behind his signature mask. A black balaclava with a sewn in skull covering his eyes. An iconic image in modern day wrestling.

The Ghost. Simon Riley. Current Heavyweight Champion. Thirty-one. Six-four and two hundred and fifty-five pounds. Lean.

You try very, very hard to ignore the fact that this massive man standing in front of you is wearing nothing but his wrestling trunks and knee-high boots. It feels so much skimpier in person.

“Och, yer the new announcer, aye?” Another man appears beside him. John MacTavish aka Soap. Another member of the 141 faction.

He’s pretty. The kind of pretty you’d recognize from a mile away. He was always one of your favorites to watch in the indies, when you could, and he continued to be a favorite all the way into the pros. He’s fast, high energy but a heavy hitter at the same time.

Current tag team champions with Gaz. Twenty-seven. Five foot ten, two hundred and twenty pounds and one of the prettiest men on the planet, as per the numerous fan pages dedicated to him and his kilt.

You nod, trying to calm down the rushing in your ears by giving your name and holding out your hand. Hopefully he doesn’t notice the shaking.

“Lovely tae meet ye.” He shakes your hand excitedly, a genuine grin splitting his face. “Donnae mind the big guy - he’s as quiet out of ring as in.”

You snort. So it’s not just the persona.

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hwangyeddeongie · 2 months

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hiii can i request a yeji fluff where you pull the "dodging my girlfriend's kisses prank" on her? thank you in advance!

hello! this ask was so cute I couldn’t not do it. enjoy!

yeji x fem!reader

You have always wanted to pull a prank on your girlfriend, but never found a right time or prank to do so. So when you see a prank trending where people dodge their partner’s kisses, you know you have to try it.

It’s harmless and easy, and you’re curious to know how Yeji would react to rejection from you, even if it was only in jest.

You decide to act on Yeji’s day off.

You wake up before her, leaving the bed to make breakfast. You know she hates it when you leave her alone in bed, and it’s a subtle way to start off the prank.

Not subtle enough, evidently, because less than ten minutes later, Yeji’s shuffling out of your shared room and into the kitchen, where you’re cooking at the stove.

You feel her arms wrap around your waist and she drops a kiss to your shoulder.

“Why are you up so early?” She mumbles, sleep heavy in her voice. “You know I hate waking up alone…”

“Sorry, baby,” you lean back into her embrace. “I made breakfast.”

You plate your breakfast of eggs and bring it over to the table, and Yeji goes in for a kiss.

You swiftly dodge it by turning your head to the side, making her land her kiss on your cheek instead of your lips.

She frowns a little, but doesn’t mention anything as she takes a seat across from you.

After you finish breakfast, Yeji goes to take a shower, and you lay down on the couch, scrolling on your phone.

A few minutes later, Yeji comes out, hair damp from her shower, and she crawls into your arms. She attempts to kiss you, but you manage to shift away just in time.

She lifts herself up, hovering over you, brow furrowed. You glance up at her from your phone for a moment before ignoring her completely.

She tries to kiss you again, and you turn your head away. This time, it’s obvious that you’re avoiding her kisses, and her frown deepens.

She grabs your face in her hands and leans in, but you wrestle out of her grip.

“Baby,” she whines, shoving your shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” You feign innocence.

“You’re dodging my kisses!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You deflect, your tone flat, but you’re biting back a smile at the adorable pout on your girlfriend’s lips.

She leans in, and once again you swerve.

Yeji gets off of you, sitting back and away from you on the opposite end of the couch. She looks hurt, and you start to regret this prank.

“Are you mad at me?” She whispers, eyes wide. “Did I do something to upset you?”

Your heart shatters, and you immediately sit up to scoop your girlfriend in your arms.

“Of course not, baby, I’m sorry.” You run a soothing hand up and down her back. “It was just a stupid prank I saw online, I’m not mad at you.”

She pushes you away, glaring at you.

“A prank?” Oh, she’s pissed. “Is this funny to you?”

“No, honey,” you try to backtrack. Your girlfriend, though adorable 99% of the time, can be intimidating when she wants to. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you would be hurt by it. I thought it was harmless.”

She loosens up a little, but she’s still a bit upset at you. You tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear and cup her cheek, stroking it with your thumb.

“I’m sorry, my love. Forgive me?”

She deflates at the pet name and nods, relaxing into your touch. You lean in to kiss her, and she dodges.

“I guess I deserved that,” you say, laughing.

“Mhm, how’d you like a taste of your own medicine?” Yeji quips, raising an eyebrow.

Instead of replying, you pull her by the back of her neck into a deep, slow kiss. When you pull away, breathless, you grin and cock your head.

“Do you forgive me now?”

Yeji’s cheeks are a little red, and she has a big smile on her face.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” she pretends to think. “I think you should kiss me again, just to be sure.”

You do end up kissing her again, and you give Yeji all the kisses she wants (and deserves!) throughout the day.

#itzy #yeji #itzy imagines #itzy x reader #yeji imagines #yeji x reader #yeji x fem reader #yeji x you #itzy fluff #itzy x fem reader #itzy fanfic #hwang yeji

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woso-dreamzzz · 5 months

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New Year's

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You don't want to sleep

"Come on," Magda groans as you duck under her arm again, sprinting from the living room back into the kitchen," Princesse, let's not play these games."

You're freshly clean, all nice and washed from your bath - though it was debatable if it was truly just your bath because you splashed so much that Magda got soaked too. You can't seem to stop moving.

Magda hasn't even fully got your pyjamas on so you're running around with just your bottoms and no top. You skirt around the table when she approaches and then climb under it when she makes to grab you.

It's a bit embarrassing for her, being outsmarted and outpaced by her under five-year-old. It's even more embarrassing when she looks at the clock and realises Pernille will be home in a few minutes and she's yet to get you all ready for bed like she promised she would.

It's New Year's Eve tonight and Magda and Pernille wanted to get you all tucked up in bed long before any fireworks went off so you would hopefully sleep through it all.

"Can't catch me, Morsa!" You cheer as you duck past her again and scamper off down the hallway.

"But I can!"

You're snatched up into Momma's arms before you even register that she's gotten home. She pulls you up onto her hip and blows a raspberry on your belly.

"You're shirtless!" Momma declares with a laugh," Where's your shirt?"

You give her an innocent look. "Don't know."

"You don't know?" She asks, walking you straight to Morsa, who's waving your shirt at you.

"Morsa!" You groan, suddenly going limp as if that will weaken Momma's grip and allow your daring escape. "I don't want my shirt!"

"Too bad," Momma says," Pyjamas fully on and then bedtime snuggles."

After Morsa wrestles you into your sleep shirt (a big Frido Sweden jersey that your moster gave you when she last visited), she falls back onto the sofa and waits for Momma to bring you over for your bedtime cuddles.

You try to escape but Momma doesn't let you, squishing you between her and Morsa.

"No! No snuggles!"

"Why?" Momma asks," Why no cuddles?"

"Cuddles mean bed!" You complain," I don't want bed!"

"You love bed," Morsa says," And you love night time snuggles."

It's true. She's right. You love snuggles and bedtime but not tonight.

"No!" You declare," Erin said-"

Momma groans good-naturedly. "What has Erin told you now? Is it like the sea thing? Princesse, not everything Erin tells you is true."

You ignore her. "Erin said that it's New Year's Eve and that you've gotta stay up until it's New Year's Day!"

Inwardly, Magda swears as she realises how painful this night is going to be. You can be pretty stubborn when you want to be and she just knows that you won't go down without a fight.

"Okay," Pernille says, much to Magda's horror," You can stay up."

You narrow your eyes at Pernille. "I can?"

"You can."

You immediately scamper off back to your room to grab some of your toys.

"Pernille!" Magda hisses," Why did you say that? We'll never get her to bed!"

"We will." Pernille's confidence is admirable. "She'll crash soon."

Magda watches as you run around with your toys and feels her hope dwindling.

By ten, Pernille's hope dwindles too and she actively begins trying to tire you out. She puts on music and makes you dance with Magda (who almost ends up falling asleep on the sofa), she sits you down and reads story after story after story to you for wind down time. She even manages to trick you into getting your usual pre-bed snuggles but it doesn't help like usual.

"Alright," Magda says eventually after maybe half an hour of a restless nap," I'm turning the tv off."

You whip your head toward her, abandoning the little fort you're trying to make out of the pillows and blankets Momma had tried to use to get you to feel sleepy.

"No!" You say," Millie said-"

Momma groans loudly at that, burying her face in the arm of the sofa.

You give her a strange look before continuing. "Millie said that there's fireworks on the tv when it becomes New Year's Day. Want to watch it."

"Manners, princesse." Momma's voice is slightly muffled but still stern.

"Want to watch it, please." You draw out the last word just to make a point.

Morsa crouches in front of you, pulling you out from your fort. "Alright," She says," Here's the deal. You clean up everything now, take down your fort, put your toys away and..."

"And?"

"And you can come up to the Big Bed."

"Want to watch the fireworks."

"We'll put it on the tv in our room but you have to get everything nice and tidy now."

"Promise?"

She interlocks your pinkies. "Promise."

Much with the same energy as earlier, you zoom around the house. Your fort is packed away in record time and your toys are returned to your room.

In that time, Pernille's gotten over her own exhaustion to head into the kitchen to make you your special sleepytime milk. She doesn't make it often (mainly because buying dried lavender is a pain to find) but it always makes you happy when she does and it sends you right to sleep.

"We should have done this earlier," Magda says as she holds Pernille by the hips and rests her head against her partner's back," I love her but she's so exhausting."

"She's stubborn," Pernille corrects," Like you."

Magda ignores the teasing jab in favour of saying," When did we get so old? We used to stay up until midnight all the time."

"We had a baby," Pernille laughs as she adds some honey to the lavender and milk mix, pouring it all into a sippy cup that you had probably outgrown but refused to get rid of.

"Here comes the baby," Magda mutters when she hears the familiar pitter-patter of your running feet. "Have you put everything away?"

You nod. "Time for the fireworks and the Big Bed?"

"That's right. Take your drink with you."

You dutifully take your sippy cup and run off with it.

"Whatever you're planning," Pernille says," It better work because if she's too keyed up to sleep tonight, it's on your head."

Magda has a plan though so Pernille's threat means nothing to her.

She switches on the tv in their room but also turns the light off. She puts the volume on low and makes sure you're nice and settled between her and Pernille.

"Have a drink," She says as she turns on the countdown to New Year's Day," Come on, princesse. You've been playing for a long time now. Have a sip. Momma will play with your hair if you want."

Pernille gives Magda a look of realisation and slowly cards her fingers through your tresses, scratching at your head every so often to make you feel all floaty and boneless.

You yawn a few times and your eyes slip shut even more but you always catch yourself.

Momma pulls you into her chest the later it gets, moving you from sitting upright to lying down.

It makes you feel a little sleepier and you just shut your eyes for a little bit before the fireworks.

The loud countdown from the tv sounds a little blurry in your ears and even Morsa's little chuckles sound floaty and far away.

"I think she's asleep," She says.

"Right on twelve," Momma replies.

You have to force your eyes open as what Sam told you comes to mind. You still feel heavy with sleep as you move around. "Have to...Have to..." Your head lulls a little bit before you force it up again. "Kisses."

You press a kiss to Momma's cheek and then Morsa's.

"Have to do New Year's kisses," You explain as you get comfortable on Momma's chest again," Have to. Sam says so."

You're drifting off again, completely exhausted and limp, as you feel yourself being moved a bit further up and then the two pairs of lips brushing against both of your cheeks.

You smile.

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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wynnyfryd · 6 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 23

part 1 | part 22 | ao3

cw: alcohol, recreational drinking

Steve fusses with his hair in the side mirror again, tugging awkwardly at his borrowed clothes. He feels stupid, standing here fidgeting in the parking lot like some kind of nervous freshman, but half of Hawkins seems to be here tonight and Robin’s got him dressed like a loser — worn green flannel and a ripped black tee with a faded picture of The Smiths. Jesus. “Did you really have to dress me like this?”

“What? You look cute!”

“I look like I raided Jonathan Byers’ closet.”

“No, you look like someone a certain neighbor is going to be drooling over all night.” Steve’s grateful for the dark then; for the blush it hides on his cheeks. “It’s not my fault you don't know how to make a deal; if you wanted to borrow a specific shirt, you should have said so before we shook on it.”

“Besides,” she ignores him when he rolls his eyes at her, “you wouldn’t even let me smudge eyeliner on your lower lash line like I wanted to, so I really don't feel like you’ve earned complaining privileges.”

“I’ll complain if I fucking want to,” he grumbles under his breath. He runs a hand through his hair one more time, then forces himself to look away from the mirror. Rolls his shoulders back and down. “He’s not even here, anyway.”

“Ah-ha! So you did check.” She links their arms together, starts dragging Steve across the uneven gravel, her ankles wobbling in her low-heeled boots. “‘Just looking for a good parking spot,’ my ass. God, I’m always so right about everything. I'm, like, cosmically correct. I should really play the lottery next time I visit my grandparents..."

“Uh huh.” He’s not sure what luck and correctness have to do with each other, but sure.

She stumbles over a rock; pushes into his side, grinning, “I’m serious! I’ll play the lottery, and I’ll win big, and then you’ll see. Might even split my winnings with you if you’re nice to me.”

“I’m literally so nice to you all the time, but okay. Can’t wait to take half your earnings when you get ten bucks off a scratcher.”

“Hey, five bucks is five bucks! That’s like an hour and a half of our lives.”

Jesus Christ. “That’s just depressing.”

They walk arm and arm down the narrow footpath to the party — ferns brushing their calves, dry dirt beneath their shoes kicking up tiny clouds of dust — and as the path opens up Steve sees the place is packed. More packed than the overstuffed parking lot let on. There are people scattered over the picnic grounds in groups of fours and fives, a full dance floor under the main pavilion; a DJ set up at the front with food and drink stands to the side; a giant bowl of spiked punch; a tower of solo cups; a couple of coolers filled with beer.

In the surrounding grass he sees more tables, more people. A couple of guys he remembers from swim team rally around an arm wrestling match; another group plays beer pong on a brown fold-up table that they definitely stole from someone’s church. There's a circle of burnouts playing hacky sack behind a tree.

The bonfire burns brightly on the hillside in the distance, and beyond that he spots the faint glow of trail lights leading up to a bridge under the falls.

Part of him wants to follow the trail. Shake Robin off, pretend like he’s going to take a leak. Find a nice rocky overhang to camp under for a while.

Listen to river sounds. Gentle slosh; cricket buzz.

Maybe he gets drunk up there alone. Maybe he just enjoys the solitude; lies on a rock on his belly by the icy river’s edge, swirls his hand in frigid water and doesn't dream of dark brown curls.

“Steve?” Robin nudges him. “You good?”

Another, much less annoying part of him reminds him that he’s Steve Goddamn Harrington. He knows how to have a good time at a party.

Who cares if he feels too old to be here, or if it’s weird to see so many faces that used to call him Captain or King? Who cares that he's one smudge of eyeliner away from looking like a full-blown new wave art freak?

He’s not about to slink off to do depressed weirdo wallflower shit when the DJ’s playing Wham!

“Yeah.” He squeezes her shoulder. “You want a drink?”

“Yes, please.”

—

The drinks are strong.

Steve’s pretty sure the punch bowl is a lot more hunch than punch, but there’s still no sign of Vickie, and Robin’s getting that sad little stress wrinkle between her brows about it, so Steve says bottoms up and starts chugging.

They wince their way through two cups each. Robin plugs her nose on the second one like she’s about to do a high dive, and Steve laughs and takes her hand, leading her into the crowd just as Take on Me comes on. The lights all blur together as they shimmy and shake and twirl, moving like a couple of dorks, but Steve’s having a great time. Bobbing his head to the beat; a big, dumb grin on his face as he moves his hips. Robin shouts “Watch this!” over the music, and the next thing he knows they’re competing to see who can bust the worst dance move.

He brings out all the big guns, the full-groan dad maneuvers.

The sprinkler, the lawn mower, the fucking disco finger.

Robin answers with a sloppy attempt at the robot, so he makes up a new move he calls be kind, rewind, and she laughs like a horse and pretends to walk down a flight of stairs.

She’s crouched into a goofy lunge, two steps into the ascent back up, when the song fades out and a ballad takes over. The crowd presses in to slow dance; Robin steps on someone's toes.

“Hey, watch it!” the person hisses.

Robin startles hard; knocks herself off-balance when she tries to stand up straight, babbling, "Oh, my god, I'm so sorry! Are you- are you okay? I'm such a klutz, oh, my god, I'm—"

Steve snatches her up under the armpits; puts her back on her feet. Then he looks up and realizes who exactly she just stepped on.

Well, shit.

—

part 24

tag list part 1 below the cut, let me know if you want me to add you tomorrow (21+ only, please confirm your age if you're asking to be tagged)

@a-little-unsteddie @ahsokatanoss @aliea82 @alyelf @anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @awolfstudio @bambibiest @bananahoneycomb @bookbinderbitch @bronwenmarie @cheonsazu @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @courtjestermunson @cuips-not-cute @dauntlessdiva @dawners @dontwasteyourchances @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @eriquin @estrellami-1 @fandomfix8 @gregre369 @griefabyss69 @grtwdsmwhr @hallucinatedjosten @hellion-child @hiimlevi @honoragreyskull @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @kas-eddie-munson @kingelyx @lifeisacrisis @littlebluejane @marvel-ous-m @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @milklechee @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @munsonslure @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @phoenixtheone @questionablequeeries @runninriot

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #st fic #robin buckley #jonathan byers #my writing #my fic

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j0eyj0rdis0n · 8 months

Note

hihi, i really love ur writing and I wonder if u could do a s/o who does cheer for a bf team with Jeff + the proxies

Hi love!! I LOVE LOVE LOVE this idea! Honestly I think the creeps would love it too! I hope you enjoy 🖤

S/O WHOS A CHEERLEADER - CREEPS SCHOOL AU

JEFF THE KILLER:

Ohhhhh you got this man GOING

His ego goes absolutely WILD

Seeing you in that cute little skirt got him distracted

It takes a while for him to get back in the game, and by that time the football coach is pissed.

Makes some star plays just to impress you too

The crowd roars as he makes the winning touchdown. But all he cares about is you as he throws off his helmet and comes sprinting towards you with that crazed smile

He'll tackle you into a hug and give you the most loving kiss you'd ever gotten from him

He'll pretend he never did it afterwards so don't expect him to ever "remember"

TIM/MASKY:

Motivates him tenfold

When he realizes you're cheering his name from across the mat he seems to get ten times stronger

Everyone's already scared to wrestle him but when they see the change in his eyes it makes them want to run screaming

Lets just say the round doesn't last much longer when you start your cheers for him

Walks over to you when everything's said and done and picks you up in his huge arms and spins you around, planting a kiss on your forehead with a big smile

"My good luck charm, that's what you are."

BRIAN/HOODIE:

Gives you that big ol' toothy grin when he sees you cheering from the stands

They don't have cheerleaders for baseball games but it warmed his heart to see you all in uniform cheering for him

Makes sure to show off even though it's not exactly hard for him to do so

When he hits a home run he absolutely adores the way you go wild! Sprinting around the bases and giving you a wave and blowing a kiss as he touches home

As the inning changes and he's put in the role of pitcher he makes sure to pose all nice for you. He gives you a show. You better take damn pictures

Also signs a baseball for you ;]

"TICCI" TOBY:

Oh he gets so shy

I doubt the soccer team knows he has a s/o so seeing someone cheering for him was certainly new

As the game gets going he tries his hardest to focus. He is the goalie after all, most of the game relies on his skill.

He doesn't have to try to impress you with his skill

When he throws himself to the side to block the ball he hears your joyful cheers and he can't help but smile

He just saved the game after all

After they've said their good games, he'll run over to you and give you a sweet kiss. You better bet he makes you wear his jersey to school the next day

"D-didn't expect to see you here! My little ch-cheerleader!"

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sunlightmurdock · 5 months

Text

Like This Forever | 0.3 | Jake Seresin x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Chapter Three. The early stages of pregnancy are really taking a toll on you. Jake’s got questions.

Warnings: talks of abortion / anti-abortion ideology. We’re pro-choice over here. This is an accidental pregnancy fic. Lying. Friends to lovers. WC: 3.6k.

…

Snickering had given the two of you away instantly. From the moment that Matthew Seresin had pushed open the door to the room, he had known that something was amiss. The house was uncharacteristically quiet for a Friday evening — those were the nights you stayed for dinner while your mother worked late, and you had spent hours with Matthew’s youngest brother causing nothing but trouble.

“If you’re in my room, I’m going to lock you out with the cows, you little freaks.” The then seventeen-year old had warned, his eyes narrowed warily as he tiptoed across the hardwood of his bedroom floor, aged floorboards creaking under his weight.

With that, a clammy little hand pressed itself firmly over your mouth. When you turned to look, Jake had been staring right at you, his cheeks dimpled with the sheer joy from his grin. A few more heavy steps and Matthew had dropped his old duffel packed full of wrestling gear to the floor.

Your nose had wrinkled at the smell. Disgusting, sweaty teenage boy athletic gear is a scent that doesn’t fade from memory.

“Last chance, you little germs.” Matthew had warned, craning his neck to check out his closet, then to squint at the open door to the bathroom he had Noah had shared.

From under his bed, you knew you were safe for at least a couple more minutes. As the oldest boy, and the messiest at the time, Matty’s room had plenty of hiding spots back then. Especially for two ten year olds who knew this old house inside and out. But, your window of opportunity was closing — there’s a fragile line between being able to scare the life out of Matthew Seresin, and just evoking his wrath. Back then, in all of his teenage hormonalism, the latter was much easier.

“Three,” Jake had mouthed to you, his shaggy hair falling in front of his eyes and his nose just a fraction too big for his face back then. “Two…”

The two of you had leapt out from opposite sides of Matthew’s double bed, scaring him so bad that he had lost balance in his gym socks, slipped on the wood and landed flat on his ass. He had been so angry that day — the two of you had slept out in Jake’s treehouse because you were so afraid of what Matty would do if he had gotten his hands on you.

Jake has always been a wriggly sleeper. He always tosses and turns, balls his hands into fists and stretches his arms out as wide as they’ll span. He has thought about joining you in your afternoon nap a couple of times now, as you stretch out along the plush bench opposite the kitchenette, but he won’t. All of his wriggling keeps you up, and he hasn’t ever seen you this tired. Even after the two of you had snuck off to Panama City Beach and spent thirty-six hours straight awake the summer after high school.

The tour has been electric so far, and Jake’s still waiting for the high of it all to wear off. His body feels like it’s vibrating as he plucks absently at the guitar strings, turning his head away from you and looking back out towards the open stretch of road. The first three dates have been everything Jake could ever have imagined. He has signed t-shirts, records, hats and skin and listened to crowds call back his lyrics for three nights consecutively. Currently, is a travel day. Seven hours from New Mexico and into Colorado. He’ll have tonight off and tomorrow, he’ll play his fourth gig in Boulder, CO. His eldest brother is going to be able to see him play.

Matt transports things outside of his work at the ranch. Just off season work to make sure his family can have the nice things he wants them to have. Jake can’t wait to see him.

The road ahead is stretching, flat and open. A couple of minutes back, the bus passed a sign informing them that the closest gas station was four miles away. Jake knows this because his driver, Pete, had announced it and interrupted Jake’s train of thought right in the middle of what could have been the best hook of Jake’s career.

With these roads out here, it’s a fifty-fifty gamble between potholes and cracks in the asphalt and smooth sailing. This road is perfectly smooth. It barely even feels like they’re moving. And yet, something wakes you up. You sit up quickly, trying to swallow through the thick churning feeling in your stomach. Your gaze flickers to the whirring air conditioning at the front of the bus as sweat slickens your forehead.

“Stop the bus!”

Pete turns in his seat, wide-eyed and ready to argue about making it before sunset, until he sees the sudden grey sheen to your skin. He doesn’t bother arguing, but his braking isn’t fast enough either.

“Pete, stop the fucking bus!”

Natasha, curled up on the bench beside you, is startled awake by the commotion. Jake’s face has already twisted into a concerned frown, his fingers stilling against the guitar strings as the bus jolts to a stop. As you leap upwards from the seat, there’s a familiar smell of dust that reminds you of that afternoon huddled under Matthew’s bed. The wild look of excitement in your best friend’s eyes are the furthest thing from your mind as you stumble forwards, two left feet trampling over each other and not enough floor space to accommodate the lack of coordination.

The door to the bus, much like the rest of it, is stiff, old and creaky. Your legs wobble down the two steps and your knees buckle, searching for the afternoon-warmed asphalt until your palms are on it too, your stomach twisting into a painful knot.

With how unceremoniously you threw yourself out of the door, Jake has to struggle to step around you without dropping himself boot-first into your breakfast. He winces, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Same old squeamish Jake. With one hand, he gets to work scooping your hair away from your neck and face and with the other, he puts a halt to the crew trying to exit the bus after you.

“Pete — you think there’s an emergency room anywhere near here?” He calls out, craning his neck to squint around the miles of fields and at the mountains in the distance.

First, you wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand, and then you sit back on your knees and swat Jake’s hand out of your hair. “I don’t need to go to an emergency room. I just ate something — and all the driving, and… bleh. I’m fine.”

“Yeah and the other day you were just too warm. You’ve been feeling weird for a couple of days, we’re getting you checked out.” With his hand now out of your hair, Jake has it free to rest against your forehead, checking impatiently for some kind of temperature he isn’t going to find. Sitting on your knees, squinting at him through the afternoon sun, finding nothing but that stubborn kind of worry that is only fuelled by love, it makes you feel sick all over again.

As much as you used to bicker and fight, and sometimes you still do, Jake’s light has always matched yours in a way that has been noticeable by everyone for your entire life. You’ve always been a duo, the perfect pair. It doesn’t seem quite right that now you know there’s a part of him that’s fused with you — that your body is reacting like this.

Truthfully, you can’t pretend that carrying Jake’s baby had ever occurred to you. The ‘B’ word, really truthfully, still makes you uncomfortable three days after finding out. But, if you had ever thought about carrying Jake’s baby, you would have assumed that it would just be… easier… than this.

“Sunny, hey, look at me.” Jake frowns down at you, all that worry materialising right in the pools of his green eyes as he squats down. Squeamish Jake who couldn’t even clean the mess up after he got sick last New Years’ Eve, squatting above a puddle of hot puke, just to get a better look at your face. “We’ve got the day off — let’s just see a doctor, get you fixed up. Alright?”

“Map says there’s an urgent care down the street from the motel.” Bob calls from inside the bus, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He’s all faded denim and rolled up sleeves, a real hometown-comfort looking kind of guy. Not a rockstar by any means, but he and those drums seem to have a special arrangement. You’ve never been more grateful for him than you are right now; he just bought you another four hours.

“I can hang on ‘til then. I’ll take it easy,” You promise Jake, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ears and wobbling to your feet. He presents both hands and breathes a sigh of relief as you brace yourself on his forearms. “It’s just a couple of hours — and I don’t see any hospitals around here anyway. Do you?”

Jake lets it go.

He boards the bus once again and sits with his elbows on his knees and watches you sleep for the next four hours. The way you’re moving, you’re going to drive that guy sick with worry — and Jake Seresin does not take kindly to being sick.

It’s got to be a sign, you think to yourself as you try to appear asleep. Your body rattles with the bus and the lack of the seatbelt, soft cushion under your back as you take up just about the only ‘tour bus-like’ commodity thag this old girl has to offer. Jake’s baby — fetus — clump of cells — whatever the fuck is chilling in there and ruining your day; you and that thing just aren’t compatible. It’s as simple as that.

It’s bringing you to your knees three days in. You haven’t slept, anything you eat won’t stay down, and your nerves are shot with the idea that you created a lifeform in the filthy back room of the Darkstar.

It’s not like you’re a teenager. You’re a grown up who is old enough to be moved out, old enough to be married. Hell, old enough to be a parent. By the standards of Driftwood, Texas, it’s about time you hitched a ride on the baby making bandwagon. Though, even in this more progressive times, the folks back home wouldn’t be too happy to hear that you just let any old guy knock you up.

That idea plays on your mind a lot at night now. The thought of walking down Main Street, all big and round in a pretty little dress, radiant and ready to be a mother. No husband waiting for you at home, no men in line to get down on one knee either. This clump of cells, or whatever, without a father. Poor thing. Well — that would make things even worse. It wouldn’t take long for people to figure out that your little mistake was a Seresin.

You hope that when they figured it out, they would understand. They would take one look at the photographs of you with Jake — all of those summers, and winters, and nights that weren’t captured by a lens, and know that you’re not just easy. Though — you are, you suppose. Jake hadn’t ever had to even ask. You’d agreed to it wordlessly before, or asked him expressly yourself. But that’s Jake. You hope they all know that’s what makes it different.

But you could save yourself all that explaining, all that hoping. With a small gulp, you know how easy it would be. You’re not that far along. All this sickness, and weakness and exhaustion would be gone in no time. You could just say you had a bug. Jake wouldn’t ever know, and his career would become everything he has ever wanted. You would get to remain part of it.

Maybe some day, you could do it the right way. Intentionally. That would feel better. You’d be prepared, the baby would be loved. This… baby — you’re not sure you could ever love something that threatens to rip away everything you and Jake have worked so hard for. Something insignificant that you hadn’t ever wanted, much less intended.

“How you feeling?” Natasha asks, crouched at your side with a glass of water and two ibuprofen in hand. Breaking into the hangover stash to ease your symptoms now. Not a good sign. You blink through the light, glancing over her head at Jake watching you through the rear view mirror, pretending to pluck at his guitar.

“I need someone to distract Jake when we get to the motel. You’ll take me to urgent care, right?” You ask her, dropping the two pills into your mouth and downing them with a strained gulp of water. Her soft brows draw together just slightly as she squeezes at your knee.

“Of course.”

Tbe plan, of course, was never to go to urgent care. While Jake’s stuck on the phone with his mother in a dingy motel room after a carefully timed ambush from Mickey, you’re across the town of Boulder, Colorado, sitting in the waiting area of a Planned Parenthood. The worst part is — Natasha doesn’t even know why it’s so important to keep Jake distracted.

As far as she knows, it’s because your best friend is over protective and because you’ve already got too much on your mind to deal with all the questions. It’s not entirely a lie.

The pen trembles between your fingers. A dotted line has never appeared to be quite so looming before today. All it asks for is your name, and you’re stumped. Outside, routine chanting presses on. Screeching, more like. They had caught you on the way in. People who looked far too similar to those from home, looking into your eyes, knowing exactly what you wanted so desperately to hide.

Baby. Baby. Baby. Your baby can feel already. Your baby has fingernails. Eyelashes. Heartbeat. The entire concept makes you shudder. All the times you’ve laid your head on Jake’s chest and steadied your breathing to the strong thrum of his steady heartbeat. You wonder if it sounds similar.

“It’s just a consultation.” You whisper. It isn’t until Natasha lifts her head and turns to look at you with those big, brown eyes that you realise you’ve said it outloud. One of her hands curls softly around your knee and squeezes softly. She nods. Not to you in particular.

It is just a consultation. Confirmation that you’re pregnant, a couple of questions about your permanent doctor. Whether you’ve ever been pregnant before. The doctor can see it on your face that this is uncharted territory for you. Talk about your vaccinations, your medical history.

“Okay, and is this pregnancy something that you’re looking to go through with?” You suppose there is no easy way to ask that question, and she doesn’t do it any better or worse than you would have expected. Still, it renders you totally silent. “It’s okay if the answer is no.”

“Will I be able to get pregnant again?” Your voice trembled. It’s a strange thing, finding yourself worry for something you had taken for granted until this point. The answer does nothing to reassure you.

“That’s not a very straightforward question. From the exam, I can’t see any reason why not, but things can change and age will be a factor in that.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m only twenty-six.”

It’s so casual. With a shrug, the doctor hums. “Just in the future. Something to be mindful of.”

You pick at your cuticles, staring towards the ground. “Do I have to decide today?”

“No. But I should advise you, it’s best to perform a termination as early as possible for safety and success.”

Without any of the answers you had been hoping for, you leave the office feeling substantially worse. You’ve been told that the entire crew are going out to a bar in town tonight. Your decision to lay in bed and wallow is both to ease Jake’s nerves and also, so that you don’t have to see his face. That doesn’t work out too well.

It’s just after six when he lets himself into your motel room and locks the door behind him. His smell fills the room, the sound of his boots tap softly against the floor. You squeeze your eyes shut as the bed dips with his weight.

“How ya feelin’, champ?”

A tired smile creeps across your face, even as you try to fight it. Jake worms his way into your bed until his face is opposite yours. Freckles on the bridge of his nose and a glint in his eye. A fond smile on his lips.

“Fine, like I told you.” You answer him. He doesn’t reach for you, but he wants to. He wants to grab both your cheeks in his hands and demand that you tell him everything the doctor told you. If you need more rest, or a certain vitamin, or if you’re allergic to the sun now or something.

As kids, you often discussed which superpower you would pick if you could have them. Right now, Jake has never wanted to be a mindreader more.

“Oh. So you don’t want the get-well treats that I got you, then?” There’s a faint rustling of a plastic bag at the bottom of his bed, purposely knocked by his leg to pique your interest.

“Depends what you got.” You both know exactly what he would have gotten you. It’s exactly what you would have gotten for yourself. Jake smiles as he sits up and pulls the bag between the two of you, setting it open to reveal the contents.

“If this doesn’t make you feel better, I think it’s time to call it. You had a good run, twenty-six isn’t a bad age.” He teases, already digging his hand through your bag of goodies to present you with the crème de le crème of gas station snacks. A warm, almost feverish, grin spreads across your lips as he hands you the chocolate bar.

Once it’s in your hands, Jake props himself up on his side and watches you take a bite. He studies you, slow and methodical, looking for any kind of discrepancy. Pain, fear — anything that will give him answers.

“You want a bite?” You offer him through a mouthful. Wordlessly, he leans in with that smirk plastered all over his face once again, and takes a bite from the top of the chocolate bar, then pulls back. Inches from your face, you watch him watching you.

“Haven’t lost your appetite. You’re warm but you don’t have a fever. Dizziness and nausea. You’d tell me if you were gonna die on me, right, Sunny girl?” With that, he reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Maybe he needs the full picture to study your face better. You scoff, swallowing down a bite of the chocolate.

“I’m not dying.” It’s not the answer he’s looking for; you know you’re just inviting him to pester you more.

You think back to Matthew. You were twelve when he had to sit down his entire family and tell them that he had gotten his high school girlfriend pregnant. He was nineteen at the time. They had been together a long time, but it had seemed like such a bombshell. You remember how upset Jake’s parents were originally.

Matthew’s engagement was short. He married Isabelle before she was even in her second trimester. He works on the ranch through the year and picks up trucking jobs in the off season, now with three kids total. As much as Jake loves his oldest brother — you know that Matthew was his warning sign. Even now, Matt’s a sign to Jake of what he would have to give in to if he wasn’t careful.

Jake stares across at you, “Did they figure out what’s the matter with you?”

“Yeah.” You tell him, watching your hands pluck off a piece of the chocolate and place it into your mouth. Jake’s brows knit together as he watches you fight so calmly to avoid his gaze. He’s starting to look a lot like his big brother.

“Well? — Is it curable? — You’re freaking me out here.” He prompts you, just about ready to snatch the chocolate back out of your hands if it will get him an answer. You scoff quietly. Curable. Sure — to an extent.

You inhale deeply and hold it there. All of your secrets have always also been Jake’s. He’s waiting for an answer, trying not to panic.

“I’m pregnant.”

And there it is. Lingering in the air between you, you stare across at your best friend and watch those two words change absolutely everything. All at once, his face changes and his hands are reaching out for you. His hands curl around your waist, thumbs reaching towards the middle of your stomach. Jake hasn’t ever looked quite so much like his big brother.

In a split-second decision, you rush out a remedy. “It’s not yours.”

His hands still against your middle. The greens of his eyes are pale, empty, searching. He presses his lips into a line. “How can you know that?”

“The doctor said I’m ten weeks along already,” Your lie doesn’t feel good. As it’s leaving your lips, it feels hot and uncomfortable. It doesn’t change the look on Jake’s face at all. “It was before we even hooked up.”

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