#F in the chat for Maya

[incorrectgmw]

Riley: You think I can pull off big and violent?

Maya: No. Riles, look at your coat. We'd obviously need to outsource.

#rilaya #riley matthews #maya hart #riley x maya #maya x riley #gmw #girl meets world #incorrect quotes #kevin can f**k himself #chat #original #r: mayariley

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 10 (Part 2 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

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

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

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

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

Chapter Word Count: 16.7k+

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

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

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

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

Covet Masterlist

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

-Thomas Adams

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 25, 2022

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

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

Maya.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A few weeks?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-  

Jake had been the main chef for Friendsgiving.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

Jake’s POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And her breasts. Felt those, too.

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

We were so close for those few seconds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

End of Jake’s POV

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck that bitch, you thought hotly— ridiculously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was something he was concerned about. . .

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

Oh, how cute and funny.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 28, 2022

Covid. Gia had Covid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Food?”

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wondering why we’re here?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

And, for a moment, it felt so domestic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

So, it was due time for you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

:) –Jake

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soup is the best when you’re sick :) 

–Jake 

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

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

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

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

Props and pillows and sleep, oh my! 

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

–Look into pregnancy pillows for y/n

–Be patient!! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that was fine. . .

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

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

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

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

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

God, what the fuck, y/n?

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was the thought of being a single mother.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ugly? Fat? Disgust–?”

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

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

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

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

Carrying my baby. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jesus. There it was. 

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

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

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

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

“Where are you getting this from?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His next words confirmed it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But . . . goddamn. The sex. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

And, god, did you still want him. 

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

December 4, 2022

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

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

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

The one problem was. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was not ending up like you’d planned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And ho-ly fuck.

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

But then he began moving his hands away. 

No.

“I’m sorry— I-I didn’t mean to—.”

“Stay.”

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

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

You fucking hoped so. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck! What had gotten into–?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” He questioned, raspy and needy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And what was happening was wrong. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maya was the innocent one in all of this.

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

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

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

Good point. 

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

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

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

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

“It wouldn’t be a mist–.”

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

Throughout the span of that small conversation, you saw his eyes go through every possible wave of emotion. His beautiful, deep set eyes had started wide with excitement, to now being filled with white hot frustration. He was mad. 

The last emotion made its way straight to the pit of your tummy and to your panties as you felt them draw even wetter. Damn. You’d take any sex with Jake right now, but angry sex? Dammit if that didn’t get you–. 

No, y/n. Stop it.

“Do you not want this? Why were you—just minutes ago if you don’t–?”

“I never said I didn’t want it.” You flat-out said, without a second thought. Why even lie when you’d just exposed yourself with whatever you’d just done with him? To him?

The two of you stood there, watching each other with flushed cheeks, hot breaths, and equally heaving chests. 

God, you would not be able to hold onto your momentary flash of integrity if you didn’t finish your thought and leave him. 

“We just can’t do it. It wouldn’t be right,” you sniffed. Shit. Your throat was tightening, eyes collecting tears. “I don’t want to be the reason you leave a woman–the woman you love,” you choked, foolishly, on the emotion that quickly made its way from your throat to your eyes. “I just want you to be happy.”

His own expression matched yours, his eyes pooled with tears of dejection. There were once more a couple moments, filled with silence.

Silence, aside from your deep breathing, and wrought with an energy you couldn’t place. You had to get away from him.

“Just go to bed. I won’t fucking bother you,” he said, swallowing thickly. He then spoke your words from earlier. “And let me clean this up.”

Again, you sniffled, but nodded, looking down, to cover it with a barely there 'goodnight'.

He didn’t say anything else, just went about his business in the kitchen to put things back together, turning his back on you altogether.

Suffice to say, you cried for a good chunk of time as you laid in bed, after changing into a big t-shirt.

Cried big, fat, somber tears.

The crying had even lasted long enough, keeping you up to hear the bed creak much more than necessary when Jake got back to his bedroom. . . The sound of soft, pleasured moans from both of them, accompanying the groans of the bed as they moved on top of it.

Lucky fucking you. 

The bed that used to be yours when that room was yours. . . The acts being made against it that made you want to punch something - someone. Someone with long, black hair and a too-sweet expression.

Like a child, you growled and used a spare pillow to cover your ears until you couldn’t hear anything through the plush filling of the pillow.

You also tried to distract yourself with TikToks, but you couldn’t focus on your feed filled with BabyTok. It just made you sad and wistful as you thought of your day of book shopping with Jake. . .

About 30 minutes later, you figured the coast was clear. It had occurred to you after lying there, doing aimless shit, that you were still very thirsty. . . your tongue felt like cardboard in your mouth. 

When you opened the door to go to the kitchen, though, you found a tumbler that didn’t belong to you, waiting for you. And when you picked it up, you realized exactly who it belonged to. . . the words told you as much. 

Merry Christmas, Jacob Thomas! 

Love you, 

Mom 

The Cricut-vinyl lettering was placed carefully across the front of the black off-brand Yeti. What you found when you looked through the clear lid was a cup full of water. Iced water.

The crying that ensued as you closed the door and placed the cup on your nightstand was no surprise to you. The sweet action made your heart thrum with unbridled admiration for him. 

You hated how things were now. . . how simply interacting with him the way you had was a mistake. When you compared it to the way things had been before the fateful day in the kitchen, it made your stomach sink and your eyes well with more tears. 

Then there had been what you’d heard through the walls. . . it made you want to fucking vomit. But. . .you’d brought it on yourself. No question about it. 

Aaand, more of the damn tears. . .

After taking a few healthy swigs from the cup, you felt sleep find you without warning. Your eyes were beginning to close on their own.

And, as you faded into a well-earned sleep, the only solace you found that night was the smooth bump of your tummy, which your hands held protectively–longingly–as you wandered to sleep.

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: hmmmmm what do you think will follow that night in the kitchen?????

Change the World from Friendsgiving :)

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

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

Taglist:

@joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssoloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend

@aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @sacredtheslay, @alienobsever, @hollyco, @age0fwagner, @raceb14, @stardustcatcher, @styles-canvas, @ladywhimsymoon, @earthgrlsreasy, @peaceloveunitygvf

@torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98, @mackalah, @lek-gvf, @carlyfleet, @profitofthedune, @mefiorini, @welllauragvf, @highway-tuna, @dont-go-home-without-me, @sarah-gvf01, @polemicandcontent, @ageofbajabule, @texas-bbq-pringles

(i think i figured out the tags limit! woooohoooo!! boo, tumblr. you're not getting me down today lmao)

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake fic #my fics #covet #i am so DAMN excited for what's coming

[screamingoverfiction]

Quiet Girl

Just an angsty/fluffy one-shot. Pairing: Fred Weasley x !f-reader, no mentioned house, some use of Y/n.

Not requested, but I've wanted to finish this draft for a while.

Non-Cannon. Everyone is 17+

First Person and a little Third

Word count: 2.7k

Y/n-

Fred Weasley. Why was he so perfect? How could he sit there, without a care in the world, with that cheeky smirk, and simply exist?

It's unfair. I'm so perfectly average, while he's just- perfect. His eyes are such a rich pretty brown, and his hair is fiery, just like his personality. His funny, witty, and so fucking annoying, but for some reason, I don't care.

But he doesn't notice me. I'm just the quiet girl he sits next to in DADA. He copies off me sometimes, engages in small talk, and cracks jokes about the professor. But after class is over, I don't exist to him anymore.

It's difficult to like him, not because he's unlikable, that's the problem, he's too likable, so I'm basically every other girl. We all want him. He knows he's attractive, always flirting and sticking his tongue down a different girl's throat each week. George is also heavily fought after. The twins are the hottest guys in our year.

I wish he wanted more than my DADA answers. Hell, I study for the class just so we have something to converse about. I couldn't have cared less about that class until this year.

I'm currently in DADA, sitting alone since Fred is probably skipping, much to my dismay. This is the only time I can take to him. In the other classes we have together, he doesn't sit near me.

I frown down at my work, scribbling away at the warm-up Lupin has assigned. He's a great teacher, but I've just never been interested in DADA.

Suddenly, the door to the class opens, all heads turn, and two redheads stumble inside, laughing their asses off.

Internally, I shout with joy, but externally I just roll my eyes when Fred sits in the seat next to me.

"Psst, L/n, think you could spare the answers to the warm-up?" Fred asks hopefully, sending me his infamous cheeky smirk.

I roll my eyes with a sigh and slide the paper across the desk, watching him copy my answers and biting back my small smile.

Fred finished writing and slid the paper back, giving me a grateful nod and a smile. He clapped his hand on my shoulder, making my eyes go wide and my head reel back.

"Thanks, mate," He said with a smile.

He let go of my shoulder, and I slumped back in my seat, face in a grimace, cringing inwardly. He called me mate. Holy shit, I'm so far in the friend zone.

I blew air through my nose, and my face stayed in a frown the entire class. I didn't even snicker at any of his jokes. I was too grumpy. It's not like he'd like me anyway, but it still stung.

After we were dismissed, I picked up my bag and left without another word or glance at Fred. Even when he said bye to me, I just sent him a silent nod.

When I reached my dorm, I collapsed onto my bed, smashing my face into my pillow and screaming. I turned around, staring at my ceiling with a frown.

I'm his mate and not the good kind. Ugh, at least I'm better off than the other girls.

Fucking hell, I need to get over him. I know there's no point in that. He'll just loop you back in with his smile. He radiates happiness.

I hate it.

I sigh and stand up, pacing around my dorm with my arms crossed. I sit back on the edge of my bed and decide to start my homework, but not before the door bursts open.

My three roommates rush in, a blonde, and two brunettes, all giggling about something. I have friends, but I could never seem to click with my roommates.

"Oh hey, Y/n. You look deep in thought," A brunette says, glancing beside her at her friends and giggling like it was some inside joke I didn't get. Her name is Maya.

"Uh, yeah, I guess I am," I say back, feeling my face heat up. I clear my throat and shift my gaze away from them.

They continued chatting for a while. I ignored their conversation, sticking to my homework.

"Did you see Fred today? Merlin what I would do to get him in bed,"

My ears perk up at the mention of his name, and I look over at them, accidentally making eye contact with one of the girls- Amy, the blonde one, but I quickly look away.

"Y/n, do you fancy anyone?" Amy asks, authentic curiosity in her voice. Amy was always the nicest, and I knew she was being genuinely friendly, but Veronica and Maya? Not as much.

I lift my eyes, swallowing thickly before silently shaking my head, hoping they would drop the subject.

I hear a chorus of giggles, and I shift uncomfortably, suddenly insecure about myself in every way.

"I don't really believe you, L/n. Who is it? Diggory? Flint? Come on, we're your friends. You can trust us," Veronica- the second brunette reassures me, but I don't believe her.

"Uh, I'm good," I say, trying to move away from them, but Maya grabbed my arm, forcing me to stay seated.

"Is it Fred?"

My face visibly flushes, and their eyes go wide, identical grins breaking across each of their faces.

"W-What? No, I don't know what you're talking about," I stammered nervously, face still red with embarrassment. I glanced between them, my face desperate, but they didn't care.

Veronica smirked, looking at Maya and Amy. Amy's expression was confused. She cocked her head sideways.

"See you at dinner, L/n," Maya said sweetly, tugging on Amy's arm and pulling her toward the door, whispering something into her ear.

I watched them leave the room, frozen in my spot. I didn't know what they were planning, but it couldn't be good.

I shook it off, convincing myself they wouldn't do anything wrong to me. It's not like I've done anything to them. Why would they try and mess with me?

I sighed, picking up my bag and walking to the door. I hummed quietly to myself while walking to the great hall, staring at my feet and keeping my head low.

I entered the great hall, finally picking my head up and heading towards my house table, but I never made it there.

My eyes found Veronica, Maya, and Amy, but they were standing by Fred.

I froze in my tracks, my eyes widening as their conversation came into my earshot.

"Well, Y/n fancies you told us herself. She's practically obsessed," Maya said with a snarky laugh.

"Merlin, she wouldn't stop talking about how much she wants to-" I tuned out the rest of Veronica's words-lies.

My chest tightened, and my heart felt like it was about to explode. My eyes were wide with hurt, and I could feel tears stinging.

Suddenly, Amy's eyes found mine, her face paled, and her mouth hung slightly agape. She quickly grabbed Veronica's arm, nodding toward me.

Veronica, Maya, Amy, and Fred all stared at me. Fred's eyes held an unreadable emotion. I felt nauseous. Bile rose in my stomach, and I quickly took a step back, knocking into someone, but I didn't care. I needed to get away from them.

I turned on my heels and ran, no, sprinted out of the great hall, tears blurring my vision. I wanted nothing more, than for someone to shoot me between the eyes.

- About a half hour earlier.

Fred-

"You called her your mate?" George asked, bursting into laughter and falling back on his bed.

"I didn't know what else to say!" Fred fired back defensively, his cheeks tinting red.

"You don't call the girl you fancy, mate, you muppet," George stated, shaking his head with an eye roll.

"Well, it's not like she fancies me. She's completely disinterested in me and shows no sign of even tolerating me," Fred sighed, sitting on his bed and running a hand through his hair.

"It can be like that with some girls," George assures his twin. Fred shook his head, biting his cheek and crossing his arms.

"She doesn't laugh at my jokes, won't look at me, rolls her eyes at everything I do. I think she's smiled at me maybe once," Fred muttered, shaking his head again.

"L/n doesn't smile, ever. And I've seen her smile at you, so extra points for Freddie," George snickers, earning a pillow launched at him by Fred.

"Why don't you just grow a pair and ask her out?"

"I'm nervous, Georgie. I've never felt this way about a girl before. I don't want to lose her, and if she rejects me, I'll never even get to talk to her again," Fred says with an exasperated sigh, his face falling into his hands.

"Man, you're whipped," George spoke with a breathy laugh, clapping his brother on the shoulder.

"Fucking hell," Fred mumbled, continuing to vent and ask George for advice the whole way down to dinner.

Once the twins reached the great hall and started toward the Gryffindor table, Fred was corraled by three girls.

He vaguely recognized them, Veronica, Maya, and Amy. Maya and Veronica had tried to sleep with him many times.

"Hey, Freddie," Veronica said with a sweet smile, placing her hand on his arm.

Fred remained unphased, but he carefully removed his arm from her grasp.

"Do you know who Y/n L/n is?" Maya asked, smiling at him and totaling her head sideways.

Fred's heart skipped a beat at the mention of her name, he quickly cleared his throat, shifting on his feet and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, I sit next to her in Lupin's," Fred said, looking between the girls wearily. He'd never seen Y/n talking with them.

Amy tugged on Maya's sleeve, whispering something in her ear and trying to pull her away from Fred.

"Shove off, Amy!" Veronica hissed, making Amy stop, hanging her head low.

Fred furrowed his brows, about to defend Amy when Maya's words completely derailed him.

"Well, Y/n fancies you told us herself. She's practically obsessed," Maya said, laughing snarkily and glancing at Veronica, who had an equally sardonic expression.

"Merlin, she wouldn't stop talking about how much she wants to fuck you," Veronica added, making Fred's eyes go wide. His blood boiled in his veins. He angrily clenched his fists. He knew her words were lies made up to put Y/n down, and he hated it.

"Veronica!" Amy quietly hissed, nodding toward someone. Fred looked over, and his heart dropped.

There she was, standing with her bag over her shoulder, her eyes wide, a pained expression on her face. She looked as though she was about to be sick.

Fred didn't know what to say, his mouth was dry, and his head spun with anger.

He watched her back away, then spin on her heel and run.

"Y/n!" He called starting to go after her when someone caught his arm again.

"What are you doing? She's a weirdo! A loser-" Veronica started to say, but Fred harshly cut her off.

"Shut your fucking mouth before I rip out your tongue!" He almost shouted, ripping himself away from her and running out of the great hall, ignoring the whispers.

Fred ran as fast as he could, looking left and right down the hallway, trying to spot her. He cursed when he couldn't spot her. He was starting to panic.

"She's probably at the lake,"

Fred whipped around, scowling down at Amy, narrowing his eyes, and opening his mouth to start going off on her.

"I tried to stop them, I really did, but they're my only friends. I know that doesn't excuse anything. I'm sorry I couldn't do more to stop them, but Y/n goes there to read. I've seen it," Amy says, toying with her fingers and avoiding Fred's eyes.

Fred's expression softened slightly, and he sighed, rubbing his jaw. He didn't know why, but he believed her. Amy was just a lonely girl who made friends with the wrong people.

"Find new friends," Was all he said before he walked past Amy picking up his pace.

Amy sighed, rubbing up and down her arms. She looked at the floor and swallowed, starting to walk back inside when she bumped into George.

-

Y/n-

I couldn't breathe. The tears wouldn't stop. I heaved, gasping between broken sobs, my head in my hands as I cried my heart out.

I sobbed heavily, lifting my eyes momentarily to look out over the lake, sniffling before more sobs escaped my lips.

He'd never look at me the same. He thinks I'm some weird stalker and that I'm obsessed with him. Why would they tell him? What have I done to them?

I'll never show my face again. I'll dig myself a grave and fling myself off the astronomy tower. Hopefully, I'll land inside it.

I tucked my knees to my chest, resting my chin atop them, tears still pouring from my eyes.

"Y/n?"

I quickly turned, my eyes widened momentarily, but I just closed them, resting my head back on my knees.

-

Third Person-

"Go on, tell me how much of a fucking loser I am, that I'm weird, and you'd never fancy someone like me," She said through sobs, her voice cracking.

Fred's eyes went wide. He completely crumbled when he saw her cry. He wished he could take away her pain. Absorb it all just so he could see one of her rare smiles.

"No, no, Y/n, fuck Veronica and Maya are idiots, mongrels. They don't amount to even half of the person you are," Fred said, sitting next to Y/n, his hand going to her chin, tilting her face toward him.

Y/n's eyes went wide, and her head reeled back out of instinct and surprise. Fred swallowed, pulling his hand away.

Y/n blinked at him, reaching up to wipe her eyes. She cleared her throat, looking at the ground and sniffling.

"They were lying," She spoke quietly, running her hands over her arms comfortingly.

There was a pang in Fred's heart. He assumed they were lying, but it still hurt to know the truth. That she didn't fancy him as he did her.

"I thought so," He said, rubbing his neck anxiously.

"I'm not a weirdo. I didn't talk about how much I wanted to fuck you. I swear! I'm not-" Y/n started, but Fred cut her off.

"You shouldn't be defensive. They're the fuckers who should be apologizingly. It's fine that you don't fancy me," Fred said with a small pained smile, trying to hide his disappointment.

-

Y/n-

I turned my head to look at him, furrowing my brows and tilting my head. Was he this dense? It didn't matter anyway. He doesn't like me.

"Fred, they didn't lie about that part," I said quietly, clearing my throat and keeping my eyes on the ground. From the corner of my eye, I swear I saw his head shoot up and his eyes widen.

"I'm gonna go-" I started to say, wiping my eyes again and standing up, but Fred grabbed my wrist as I stood, keeping me from walking away.

Fred stood up, looking at me intensely, his mouth was open, but he said nothing.

"Fuck it," He finally muttered, leaning forward and pressing his lips against mine, briefly kissing me.

He pulled back, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He stepped away from me, probably because of the shocked expression on my face.

"Sorry, I-"

I didn't let him finish his sentence. I grabbed his tie, pulling him down and crashing our lips together. He didn't hesitate, kissing me back with equal, if not more passion.

He cupped my cheek, deepening the kiss. He tasted better than I'd dreamed, and his lips were so soft.

When we finally broke apart. I scoffed sarcastically, crossing my arms over my chest. Fred furrowed his brows.

"Why the hell would you call me your mate?"

Fred closed his eyes, sighing in what I think is relief.

"I thought you were about to slap me," He said with a laugh, smiling that cheeky smirk.

"I'm thinking about it,"

"Can I kiss you again?" He asks, eyes flickering to my lips. I smiled, stepping closer to him, keeping our eyes connected.

"Be my guest,"

#fred weasley #george weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred wealsey fic #fred wealsey x y/n #fred weasley x you #fluff #no smut #angst #hurt/comfort

[cvbullshit]

Simulacra(1, 2, PD) Incorrect Quotes Part 2

These mainly take as if it was somewhat the Content AU(their nicknames, genders, and other) and mixed slightly with canon, depending on the quote. I may do art of them at some point, feel free to do art of them yourself though, if you want, just tag me since I'd want to see it. For context: -The first Simulacra(from Simulacra 1) is nicknamed Phoney. -The second Simulacra(from Simulacra 2) is nicknamed Ripple Man, obv. -The Pipe Dreams Simulacra is nicknamed Flappee. -The MC from the first game is labeled MC 1, MC from the second game being labeled as MC 2. -The MC from Pipe Dreams is labeled MC PD.

Flappee: I woke up and chose VIOLENCE. I WILL COMMIT ARSON AND BURN EVERYTHING TO THE GROUND!!! I AM ANGRY- Teddy: Awwww, you’re so adorable! Give me a hug~ Flappee: Wh-What? nO, yOURE SUPPOSED TO BE SCARED OF ME! TREMBLE BEFORE MY WRATH- MC PD, recording: This is so cute.

Flappee: I dare you to kiss the next person who walks into this room. Teddy: Screw that, I’m not kissing any of you. MC PD walks in Teddy: Fine, I’ll do it. Rules are rules you know.

the Squad cleaning up MC PD: Pick up the nearest piece of trash and throw it away. Flappee, to Teddy: Aight, which bin do you wanna go in—

Arya: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the things you lost throughout your life. Rippleman: It would be nice to have my sense of purpose back… Rex: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this. Mina: My will to live! I haven't seen this in years. MC 2: I knew I lost that potential somewhere. Maya: Mental stability, my old friend! Arya: Jesus, could you guys lighten up a little?

Mina: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat? Maya: >:O language Rippleman: Yeah watch your fucking language Rex: Okay, who taught Rippleman the fuck word?! Arya: 'The fuck word'. MC 2: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time Rippleman: Oh my god they censored it Arya: Say fuck, MC 2. Rippleman: Do it, MC 2. Say fuck.

Arya: Who else is hiding in the laundry room trying to listen to MC 2 and Maya's convo? Mina: Me. I'm in the laundry basket. Rippleman: I'm in the washing machine. Rex: I'm in the closet. Mina: We accept you Rex. <3 Rex: No I'm literally in the closet. Mina: Love is love. <3

Arya: She was poetry, but he couldn't read. MC 2: His name was Jared he's 19. Mina: When his parents built a very strange machine. Rippleman, singing: Watch that scene, digging the dancing queen. Maya, singing: Eyyyy, Macarena! Rex: Horrible job everyone.

Murilo, to Rippleman: Why is MC 2 not talking? Rippleman: I'm playing the silent game with them. Murilo: Well, then you just lost. Rippleman: I lost two hours ago. I gave them ear plugs and told them to close their eyes. It was the only way I could think of to get them to shut up.

MC 2: Why's it called an oven when you of in the cold food and you of out hot eat the food? Murilo: …What???

MC 2: I don’t think we can mansplain, manipulate, or malewife our way out of it this time. Murilo: cracks knuckles Manslaughter it is!

MC PD: I think MC 2 is in trouble. MC 1: Alright. Struggling to give a fuck, if I’m honest.

Rippleman: Hey bro, what do you want to eat? Phoney: The souls of the innocent! Flappee: A bagel. Phoney: No! Flappee: Two bagels.

Flappee: It’s impossible to make a sentence without using the letter A. Phoney: Despite your thinking, it is quite possible, yet difficult, to form one without the specific letter. Here’s one more to further disprove your theory. Rippleman: Fuck you.

Rippleman: Now, Flappee, all of us are doing this because we care about you, okay? Phoney: Except for me. I just wanted to see the look on your face.

Rippleman: Where is everyone? Flappee: Phoney had a nervous collapse, MC 2 is looking after them, MC 1 is trying to kill MC PD, so I’m in charge. Rippleman: Oh my god! Flappee: I know, right?

MC 1: Man, they look like a real handful. How do you deal with them? Phoney, watching Flappee screaming, Rippleman trying to set a sleeping MC PD on fire, and MC 2 choking on air: I don't know either.

Taylor: When Phoney was born, the gods said, "They're too perfect for this world." Anna: Please. When they were born, the devil said, "Oh, competition."

Anna: Hey, check out my Spongebob umbrella! Anna opens their umbrella while indoors Taylor: Anna, that’s bad luck… Anna: Chill out, Taylor! Phoney, kicking down the door: WHO SUMMONED ME?!?! Anna and Taylor: screams

Anna: How do you do that? Taylor: I'm fearless. Phoney: I saw you run from bees yesterday. You flailed around and tripped over a chair. It was both hysterical and sad. Taylor: I'm mostly fearless.

Mina: What do rainbows mean to you? Arya: Gay rights. Rippleman: There's money. Murilo: The sign of God's promise to never destroy the whole Earth with a flood. Rex: It is an optical phenomenon that separates sunlight into its continuous spectrum when the sun shines on raindrops.

Murilo: Anyone d- Arya: Depressed? Rex: Drained? Mina: Dumb? Rippleman: Disliked? Murilo: -done with their work… what is wrong with you people…

#simulacra #simulacra 2 #simulacra pipe dreams #simulacra headcanons #simulacrum #simulacra au #simulacra arya #simulacra mc #simulacra game #simulacra rex #simulacra murilo #simulacra taylor #simulacra anna #simulacra mina #simulacra maya #simulacra teddy #for fun #because why not #incorrect quotes #shitpost

[hobeemin]

bad habits

💖 genre: smut, pwp, angst, maybe a sprinkle of fluff

💖 pairing: fuckboi!jung hoseok x (f) poc reader (nicknamed Treasure) feat. jeon jungkook

💖 rating: 18+

💖 warning(s): swearing, insecurity, mentions of drinking at a party, mention of vomiting, arguing, dirty talk, pet names, unprotected sex, fingering, handjob, kissing, creampie, okay i finally added some fluff in here

💖 word count: 2.6k

💖 credit(s): @cremeandsuga thank you for letting me use your name maya! @playmetheclassics for beta reading this mini series for me 💜💜💜 @sugakookitty ​ for assisting with my banner and some suggestions for this fic as well as my homies at @btsblackcreatorsociety ​ 💜💙💜💙

resources for banner found here ~ 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

💖 a/n: welp i’m back with the final part to this...trilogy of sorts. check out when you were mine and jealous of you. all will make sense. hope yall enjoy!!

❃ Festivaled Away: wine and spirits hosted by madame kez @kimnjss @bangtanbathhouse

         ⤞ Ticket: rooftop drinks

         ⤞ Main Event: drunken confessions

💖 < 💖 > 💖

“I love you, Treasure.”

She blinked slowly at the drunk man draped over the couch. Arms crossed, she stared hard at him. So many emotions crossed her face from those four words he slurred. 

This couldn’t be.

She made it clear that she was done with him the last time she saw him.

So why did that make her heart ache?

No matter how hard Y/N tried, Hoseok managed to wiggle himself back into her life.

This particular night, she was getting dressed to meet Jungkook to celebrate his team winning their summer championship. Y/N stood in the full-length mirror, finishing up the last touches of her makeup as her roommate entered from the bathroom.

“You almost finished?”

Y/N concentrated as she flicked the mascara wand over her lashes. “Uh huh, one minute.”

Maya grabbed her purse off the counter as she walked to the door to grab her shoes. “You don’t want Jungkook waiting. Let’s move it Y/N.”

Y/N scrambled, swiping lipstick over her lips, and ran over with her wristlet. “Alright. Alright. We can leave.”

“About time,” Maya chastised.

Y/N rolled her eyes as she followed her out the door. “I wasn’t taking that long.”

Maya shot her a look making Y/N giggle. “Okay good point.”

By the time they reached the party, it was in full swing. Maya grabbed Y/N’s hand, weaving through the crowd. She pointed up to the entrance leading to the rooftop, and they climbed the few flights of stairs.

String lights wrapped around the poles as people danced, drank, and chatted around the bar. Most of the basketball team was already there. He was leaning against a pole nursing a red solo cup. The two friends walked over to him. 

His shy grin formed as he stared at Y/N. He gave a tiny wave as the other people around him acknowledged them .

“Congrats on the win Kookie,” Y/N said with a smile.

“Thanks. Happy you came out tonight.”

Maya snorted. “I had to drag her out of the apartment practically. She was taking too long cause she wanted to look cute–”

“Okay! Thanks, Maya. Let’s get something to drink, yeah.”

Jungkook laughed with a nod. “Yeah, please go help yourselves. We’ll be over here.”

They went to the bar, waiting to be served as Y/N reached over and pinched Maya. She yelped, grabbing her arm.

“What the hell, Y/N?”

“Embarrass me, why don’t you.”

She scoffed but smirked. “Listen. You and Jungkook have been dancing around for the last few months. Just start dating already!”

Y/N bit down on her lip as Maya ordered their drinks. Damn, she was right. Y/N liked Jungkook, and it seemed he felt the same way too, but something was holding her back from taking the next step.

“It’s not that simple, Maya.”

“Bullshit,” she snapped, handing her a drink. “I know why you're scared, but we're not gonna go there tonight. Let’s just enjoy the evening.”

Y/N sighed but spread a smile across her face as she found Jungkook sitting next to him as they chatted. After a few drinks, Y/N walked over to the roof's edge and leaned against the railing, watching the city's lights flicker in the summer night's heat.

I wonder what–

Her phone vibrated, bringing her from her thoughts, and she pulled it out of her back pocket, glancing at the number. Her eyes widened in surprise before sliding the button on and pressing it to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/N? This Y/N Y/L/N, right?”

“Yeah. Yoongi? Is this you?”

“Yeah. Hey. Sorry about the random call, but–”

A voice in the background interrupted, making Y/N grip her phone tighter.

“I-Is that Y/N?! Lemme speak to her!”

She could hear Yoongi cover the mouthpiece as a growl passed his lips.

“Shut the fuck up, Hobi!” 

Speak of the devil.

Y/N glanced down at her nails until Yoongi spoke up again.

“Sorry about that. I was supposed to be at the party long ago, but we pregamed, and Hobi went a little too hard. He’s in no shape to go out now.”

She could hear the bitterness in his voice.

“So why call me?”

Yoongi sighed heavily before dropping his voice. “He won’t stop asking for you, Y/N. Like in tears currently.”

Her stomach clenched. She needed to harden up. 

She was over him.

Right?

“What do you want me to do?”

“I’m leaving that up to you to decide, Y/N.”

“Let me speak to her, Yoongi!!!”

“Shut up, Hobi!”

Her shoulders dropped in realization. “I’ll see you soon.” She clicked the phone off, placed it in her back pocket, and walked back to Maya.

Her friend wasn’t too happy to hear about this new development.

“I love you, Y/N, but this is stupid…really stupid. Just be careful and call me if you need anything or need a quick exit.”

She promised, wishing Jungkook a quick goodbye as his happy expression dropped. Maybe it wasn’t in the books for them to ever be together. But Y/N needed this closure with Hoseok; otherwise, she’d never be able to move on. 

Yoongi opened the door quickly, giving Y/N a smile of relief.

“Thanks for stopping by,” he opened the door wider, letting her enter. “I didn’t think you would come, but I wouldn’t blame you if you hadn’t shown up.”

“I almost didn’t,” she muttered, taking her shoes off by the door. She followed Yoongi further into the apartment to the living space. He raised his brow, staring at the couch.

“Hobi was just here. Probably in the bathroom.”

Yoongi shook his head, shooting Y/N a look of apology. “You going to be okay?”

She nodded, crossing her arms. “Yeah. Go on. It’s fine.”

“Thanks. I don’t want Azul to be waiting too long.”

“She definitely won’t like that.”

They both laughed and waved as he walked out the door. Once the door closed, her attention turned back as the door to the left opened; the man stumbled in, mumbling to himself. He fell onto the couch, draping his arm over his face. It wasn’t until Y/N cleared her throat that Hoseok opened his eyes. He stared at her with bloodshot eyes until the gears turned in his head.

“What the fuck?!”

“Hi to you too, Hoseok.”

He rubbed his eyes in disbelief. “Where’d you come from?”

She sat in the chair opposite him placing her purse on the end table. “Yoongi called me, and I decided to come over.”

He scoffed, rolling his head to gaze at the ceiling. “Why? You made it clear you didn’t want to see me again.”

Y/N thinned her lips, glaring at him. Okay, he did have a point, and after that incident on Valentine’s Day, she broke all ties with him. So why did she come over here?

“True. I was angry. But you have to understand the reasons behind it, Hoseok.”

He cut his eyes to her, burping softly. “I’m too drunk for this.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, getting up and going into the kitchen. She emerged moments later, tossing a bottle of water into his lap. He groaned, looking down at it.

“Drink. I may not have those feelings for you, but I don’t want you getting sick again.”

He twisted the top off, taking a long sip. Wiping his mouth, he gave her a nod. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“Yeah.”

The quiet fell between them; the only sounds were from the clock on the wall. He bit his bottom before speaking up again. 

“Do you hate me?”

She blinked a few times before speaking again. “Hate you? Why would I hate you?”

“Because you act like I don’t exist.”

“You don’t…at least in my mind…but you’re as much to blame in this.”

He groaned, pinching his nose. She could tell he was getting frustrated. Well, too bad, and it was time he felt the way she had.

Suddenly a song began to play on his phone. Y/N sat there in silence, listening as Hoseok closed his eyes, humming along with the lyrics. When it stopped, she shrugged, looking at him. 

“What was that for?”

“It made me think of you,” he answered.

“Oh.”

He met her gaze with a simple smirk. “Don’t you think it describes us?”

She shook her head. “No…”

He chuckled softly. “Liar.”

Unhappiness filled her eyes. “You confuse me so much.”

Confusion crossed his face. “Why? I can’t miss you, Y/N. Cause I do. Every day sucks without you in it. Don’t you miss me?”

“You had an odd way of showing it, Hoseok. I was there as a convenience for you, and that’s it. So don’t bullshit with me about missing me and wanting to be back.”

She crossed her arms, staring at the floor. “So no, I can’t miss someone who put me through all that.”

“I’m sorry. Fuck, I just…I don’t know what I was thinking–”

“Nothing.”

“You pulled me in…Treasure…I just couldn’t stop myself.”

Y/N felt the thickness in her throat return. She shook her head furiously. “That’s not fair. That’s fucking wrong, and you know it.” Placing her head in her hands, she wanted to sob, but she promised herself she’d never shed any tears over this man again.

He could see the pain and stress he caused. Hoseok dropped to his knees and crawled over Y/N. Kneeling in front of her, he wanted to comfort her.

“Y/N–”

“If I’m being honest, betrayal was the biggest emotion I felt when it comes to you. Like you didn’t care when we were together, but the second I get with Jungkook, you feel some type of way.”

“Okay. I’m an asshole. You know it, and I do too, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you, Y/N.”

“What are you talking about, Hoseok?”

She made eye contact with him, and he reached for her hand. She nodded, and he squeezed it gently.

“I love you, Treasure. How can I fix this?”

She searched his face for any reassurance. “By giving me the last few months of my life back.”

He frowned, feeling the ache in his chest. “That’s not fair, Y/N. I’m trying.”

“Only after getting drunk,” she spat.

Rejection crossed his face. “I know, but aren’t drunk feelings what we truly feel?”

She snorted at the comment. He was trying too hard. “If this is your way of getting me back, you’re failing.”

His fingers brushing over her hands was comforting. Why was she letting this man wiggle his way back into her life? Deep down, she knew the outcome, but she had said it before: Jung Hoseok was her drug of choice. 

Would it be different this time?

“If…if I did agree to this, we have to establish some boundaries, Hoseok. I’m serious. Or I walk away,” she explained.

He bobbed his head. “I understand and will try to be the best person I can be. I want you to be happy and make sure you’re smiling…always.”

She sniffed as he wrapped her in his arms. “It’s okay, Treasure. It’s okay.”

He lifted her chin, staring into her eyes with admiration and adoration. He caressed her cheek with his thumb lightly.

“I want nothing more than to kiss you right now.”

“What’s stopping you?” she taunted.

Hoseok let out a noise of desire before brushing his lips across hers. “I miss kissing you,” he murmured.

Y/N gripped his shoulders as he pulled her flush to him, making her fall to the floor. Her tongue begged entrance, and she opened her mouth to grant access. Her eyes were fiery. She sat up, working on unzipping his pants.

Y/N purred, seeing his exposed skin once again. Beautiful as it was before. She ran her hands along his chest.

"Much better."

Hoseok growled, pushing his hips against her. He kissed her neck softly as his hands found her breasts, his fingers teasing her nipples. She let out a chorus of purrs, grinding her hips against his. His bulge rubbed on her inner thigh, causing her to moan more. Her hands stroked the front of his briefs, teasing the outline of his length.

"Someone's excited," she teased playfully.

Her hand slid inside his boxers to touch and caress his shaft, making her way to the head. Precum already coating the tip.

Hoseok panted at her touches. She drew another moan past his lips.

"Still a tease, I see," he accused while tugging her bra off.

He took a nipple in his mouth, suckling it gently while his fingers rolled and pinched the other free one. His fingers moved from her nipple down her body. He admired each curve and dip on her as his hand explored and remembered them all too well. He reached for her underwear, toying with the elastic band while suckling on her neck's crook. Hoseok groaned, feeling the heat radiate. Hungry for more, he pulled the underwear to the side and traced the outline of her lower lips before finding her clit, rubbing it gently with his thumb.

He tugged on her earlobe as he slipped his finger from her pussy. Smirking, he licked the juices off his finger. Making her clench.

"Delicious," he whispered licking his lips. 

“I need you, Hoseok,” she whispered.

He nodded as she straddled him with ease. Her lips crashed against him as she lowered herself down on him. He immediately hit her at an angle that made her whimper, but it felt fantastic.

Hoseok could see the lust reflected in her eyes equally matched his. He relaxed into the pleasure, enjoying the moment, watching her body lift and stroke him. He secretly thanked the universe for bringing them back together. His hands touched and caressed every inch of Y/N's body he could reach. He set on resting his hands on her hips, pulling her body more against his, meeting the rhythm with each thrust. The intensity of their gaze grew. Each knowing the time would come where they'd release all the pent-up emotions. Her body warmed with the telltale signs.

"H-Hoseok," she whimpered.

He shuddered, knowing the time had come. "Treasure."

Sitting up, he gripped her passionately, jerking his hips against hers as they orgasmed, her cries muffled and lost to the confines of his mouth as he coated her walls with white until it slipped past her lips filling her to the brim.

Spent, Hoseok sank back to the floor, dragging Y/N with him. Their breaths slowed down as he held her close as they fell asleep.

The water dripped down his back as he leaned over, hands on the wall. Regret and sorrow crossed his features. Her words echoed in his mind as the steam wrapped him in an embrace. 

Why did she have such a hold on him?

He’d woken hours later, and luckily Yoongi hadn’t returned home. He put Y/N on the couch, covered by a blanket, and went to shower.

So many thoughts plagued his mind. He did love her. But did she love him?

His muscles tensed as he felt another presence join him in the shower. He sighed in relief as Y/N encircled her arms around his waist. She kissed his shoulder, resting her head on his back.

“I was worried when you weren’t there,” she mumbled into his back.

He smiled softly, shaking his head. “No, just showering.”

He twisted to look at her bending down to kiss her lips. “You alright?”

“Now I am.”

“I’ll wash your back,” he offered.

She nodded as he grabbed an extra washcloth. He ran it down her back gently. Y/N let out a sound of pleasure as he continued to wash her.

“Hobi?”

His eyes widened; it was the first time she had called him that in months.

“Yes, Treasure?”

“I love you too.”

His heart swelled as he kissed her forehead. “I love you too.”

#festivaledaway #bangtanbathhouse #bangtaninn #kvanity #btscarnivalnet #52hertz #houseofddaeng #btsdreamcourt #bangtanarmynet #btshoneyhive #bangtansorciere #kwritersworldnet #jhope smut #hoseok smut #bts smut #jung hoseok #hoseok #bts #hoseok x reader #bts x reader #hoseok fanfic #bts fanfic

[corruptedbunny-multimuse]

Franziska: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?

Gumshoe: >:O Language!

Sebastian: Yeah, watch your fucking language!

Maya: OKAY WHO TAUGHT SEBASTIAN THE FUCK WORD

Phoenix: "The fuck word" lol

Miles: Seriously? You guys use the f word all the time.

Maya: oh my god he censored it

Phoenix: Say fuck, Miles!

Maya: Do it! Say fuck!

#what do you mean this didn't happen #(What Do You Mean This Didn't Happen? | Incorrect Quote) #franziska von karma #Detective Dick Gumshoe (Ace Attorney) #sebastian debeste #Maya Fey (Ace Attorney) #maya fey #Phoenix Wright (Ace Attorney) #Miles Edgeworth (Ace Attorney) #miles edgeworth #okay to reblog

[raedroid2004]

Emma: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?

Lina: O language!

Cassie: Yeah watch your fucking language!

Tanya: Ok who taught Cassie the fuck word?

Maya: ‘The fuck word’

Sara: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time

Cassie: Oh my god they censored it

Maya: Say fuck, Sara

Tanya: Do it Veena, say fuck

#the star covers #incorrect quotes

[love-bokumono-fics]

Fresh Crops! June 16 - July 2, 2023

This week's newest fics and story updates for Harvest Moon and Story of Seasons on AO3!

From Dusk to Dawn - by SinMints; WIP, 1/5, 1.6k

Rating: Explicit; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: M/M Fandoms: Animal Parade Relationship: Wizard Gale | Mahoutsukai/Luke; Characters: Luke the Carpenter, Wizard Gale Additional Tags: Porn With Plot, tags will be added as chapters are added, Body Worship **Note** Some tags have been removed to remain safe for tumblr. please check the tags on ao3 for a complete list Summary: This work is part of a series. The Moon and Sun Dynamic is the main fic, and these are just snippets of NSFW scenes that happen during or between chapters. Not much of what happens here will make sense without reading the parent fic, sorry!

The Moon and Sun Dynamic - by SinMints; WIP, 15/21, 35k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: M/M Fandom: Animal Parade Relationships: Luke/Wizard, chase/maya(background); Characters: Luke, Wizard, Kathy, Jin, Dale, Bo, Maya | Mai, Chase | Chihaya, Wizard Gale Additional Tags: the story of this ship is hella long, dont rp two opposing personality types in a group chat at the same time it hecks you up, alcohol mention, wizard has some social anxiety issues, lukes an idiot ofc, Rating changed for Language, Slow Burn, the slowest burn, Minor Character Death Mention Summary: The moon and sun, two beings destined to never meet. However, a turn of fate brings them together one day and... the sun's kind of annoying... and the moon's kinda spooky.

Story Of Seasons: A Wonderful Life: Cecelia. Chapter 1: Beginning - by OmegaRain_Productions; Complete, 1/1, 1.5k

Rating: Mature; Archive Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning, Major Character Death; Category: F/F Fandom: A Wonderful Life Relationship: Cecelia/Megan Summary: Following the Death of her father, Megan inherits her fathers farm in Forget-Me-Not Valley, Wanting to keep it running and get away from the City Life, She agrees to run it, not expecting to run into the love of her life there.

The deleted heart cutscene - by phantomick; Complete, 1/1, 1k

Rating: Explicit; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: M/M Fandom: A Wonderful Life Relationships: Rock/Male Reader; Character: Rock Additional Tags: I Don't Even Know, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Aftercare, I'm Sorry, Sounding, Situational Humiliation **Note** Some tags have been removed to remain safe for tumblr. please check the tags on ao3 for a complete list Summary: After going on several dates, Rock and I became close. He had a very specific schedule, so it puzzled you as to why he hadn't yet walked by the farm. You decide to pay him a visit…

The Language of Flowers - by spoopybat; WIP, 73/?, 172k

Rating: Explicit; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M Fandoms: The Tale of Two Towns Relationships: Cam | Kamil/Lillian the Farmer | Sato, Chelsea/Vaughn | Waltz Additional Tags: Tags Contain Spoilers, POV Alternating, Background Relationships, Starting Over, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Minor Character Death, Background Character Death, Minor Violence, Minor Injuries, Physical Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Socially Awkward Characters, Cliche, Mutual Pining, Awkwardness, Awkward Flirting, Emotional Baggage, References to Depression, Dysfunctional Family, Melodrama, Family Drama, First Love, First Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Loss of Virginity, First Time, Morning After, Morning Cuddles, Christmas, Domestic Fluff, Unplanned Pregnancy, Pregnancy, Morning Sickness, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Constipation, Arguing, Medical Conditions, Medical inaccuracies but I'm gonna do my best, Panic Attacks, Engagement, Wedding Planning, Wedding Fluff, Weddings, Honeymoon, Body Worship, Making Love, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Mental Anguish, Spa Treatments, Fights, Making Up, Mental Health Issues, Depression, Language of Flowers, Emotional reunion, Therapy **Note** Some tags have been removed to remain safe for tumblr. please check the tags on ao3 for a complete list Summary: Lillian, a young woman from the Sunshine Islands, left her home and moved to Bluebell. In hopes that moving to this rural farm town to escape her troubled past and find the happy life she had always wanted.

#fresh crop monday #harvest moon #story of seasons #a wonderful life #tale of two towns #animal parade #yall were feeling naughty this week ;) i don't think I've ever had to redact so many tags to make things sft lmao

[hydralisk98]

Servitor "Solarpunk life" manifestation toybox scripture 1/? (WIP)

Key agents

Klara 'Olive' Kér (protagonist and self-insert)

Ava Petra (synthetic social assistant serf)

Valence/Constanz (introspective self-image & fursona)

Nil (second person perspective, in case you want to insert yourself into my stories...)

Falah Becker (mother)

Gustav Hayden (father)

Deno Hayden (twin brother)

Wyatt Hayden (younger brother)

Shoshona (black Angora housecat)

Ursae Elke (College / university classmate and BFF for life)

Tekla Hankel (inspired from Wolfenstein The New Order's autistic character)

Sasha Fekete (inspired by Velma and GLaDOS girlboss vibes)

Magali Soler (fem friend of similar name in IRL, somewhat similar to Helluva Boss' Octavia)

Kira May Ceyla (inspired from Helluva Boss' "Sally May")

Micha Baker (masc ISFP)

Matyas Merkel (masc ISTJ)

Talinana Chateau (programmer friend and internship mate at Utalics)

Ulli Eike (NB middle school friend, eq. U)

Tano Hertez (NB primary & middle school friend, eq. A)

Irma Milan (fem ENTP friendly rival)

Topic2

Soft warm retro toon aesthetic

Far far away Solarpunk optimistic future world

Bookstore clerk software toy

Deque Lambda Calculus paradigm

Topic3

Angora major civilizations

Shoshones

Assyria

Morocco

Mayas

Brazil

Persia

Portugal

Poland

Babylon

Vietnam

Inuit

Samoa

Angora major religions

Arianism

Ba'hai

Calvinism / Huguenots

Chaldeanism

Theravada

Zoroastrianism

Jainism

Al-Asnam

Angora major keypoints

A

B

C

D

E

F

Goals

U

V

W

X

Y

Z

Life-scripting scenarii

Bookstore working shift & conversing with Ava

Swimming some in the pool, chatting some with the other ladies

Swimming in some other pool, this time by myself with some caring self-talk and much relaxing

Moving across the public transport system (trams, buses, subway and railways)

Van travel trip across the countryside

Studying at the university library

Watching some cozy film during a community event

Eating some at a café

Working my first internship hours at Utalics

Visiting the parliament / senate complex of the Shoshoni Union

Tinkering and playing around retro technologies

Spending some sweet time with my family at their household

Affirmations

0

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

A

B

C

D

E

F

S

T

U

V

W

X

Y

Z

ENDE?

#maskoch

[lilyicetea]

191222

Jadi ceritanya pagi pagi tu moodku jelek. Ada beberapa alasannya:

1. Jadi ada gc F yg nyediain ebook gratis tp eksklusif. Nah dibubarin tuh krna ada masalah. Aku kyk sayang banget dibubarin mana udh akrab sama member lain. Jadilah aku buat gc baru sementara untuk nampung member ex F. Nah setelah beberapa hari ada member yg lumayan akrab sama aku ngechat. Katanya aku disuruh chat admin gc F. Katanya sih ada yg mau diomongin. Aku chatlah adminnya. Trus dia nanya bener aku buat gc baru. Aku blg iya tp sekedar kumpul aja gk ada tuh bagi ebook. Nah dia janjiin sesuatu. Katanya kalo aku mau bubarin gc nya dia bakal balikin gc F itu. Aku seneng dong krna gc F balik. Aku bubarin lah gc ku itu tp aku ngerasa bersalah banget. Banyak membernya ngechat aku tp admin gc F blg jgn kasitau siapapun. Trus ada yg ngechat lg ngenanyain sbenernya ada apa sih. Aku kasitau lah inti chatku sama admin. Akhirnya ada member lain yg buat gc lagi dan ngumpulin anak anak lain. Trus beberapa jamnya admin gc bagi link ke gc itu tp dgn syarat cuman nerima member 5 org per minggu. Aku kayak pnya high expectation dan mikir ‘oh pasti aku ni yg dluan keterima krna kalo gk krna aku yg buat gc mana mungkin si admin ke trigger buat balikin gcnya’. Eh eh trnyata zonk. Dr member 9 jadi 14 tp aku gk ada dimasukin (yet). Tp tetep aja kecewa gitu dan itu yg buat aku badmood.

2. Pagi td aku dibilang bodoh sama suamiku krna bikin jos susu 2 tp susunya cuman satu. Perasaan dia minum itu kemaren sama temen2nya dan habis. Malem aku kekamarnya ngasi botol minum dia biasa aja. Trus td pagi dia bangunin anaknya jg biasa aja trus kenapa dia mendadak emosi?

3. Uang gajinya udh di trf balik ke rekeningku dan yaaa sedikit buat goodmood lah krna masalah gc. Aku trus brpikir positif like “it’s okay. Dunia maya itu gk penting. Yg penting anakmu. Your baby is your number one priority”

[tmrrwppl]

Clari: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?

Russell: >:O language

Cas: Yeah watch your fucking language

Stephen: OKAY WHO TAUGHT CAS THE FUCK WORD?

John: 'The fuck word'.

Maya: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time

Cas: Oh my god she censored it

John: Say fuck, Maya.

Cas: Do it, Maya. Say fuck.

#compatiissante #!!!!!!!!!!

[lex-munro]

[Glitter on the Wet Streets: Part 5] The Men Cry Out, the Girls Cry Out

The clues point to Trust A Bro Moving Company, where Eddie meets an important-looking guy in a red tracksuit and proceeds to get himself into trouble.

Chapter 5 of (probably?) 12.

Why do I insist on naming chapters instead of numbering them when I’m notoriously Bad At Titles™?  A mystery for the ages…

Warnings:  Canon divergent based on the MCU.  Oblique spoilers for Black Widow, Wandavision, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Hawkeye, and Daredevil.  Discussion of abusive relationships (both romantic and platonic) and recovery from abuse.  Brief ableist language, quickly corrected by those present.  Peter and MJ have been making Venom go to therapy (without actually going to therapy).  Canon typical violence.  Brief descriptions of wounds/regeneration.  Language: PG-13 (primetime TV plus s***, f***, and g**damn).

Pairing:  Matt/Eddie, background Peter/MJ, past Eddie/Venom.

Timeline:  A year after the events of No Way Home, but concurrent with the events of Hawkeye (told you it was canon divergent), sort of.  Like, I know Yelena’s chat with Kate was the 22nd, and that was just one night before Clint confronted Maya, but SHUSH I PUT ANOTHER DAY IN HERE FOR MAH FLOW.  This universe has Hawkeye set a whole year later than canon, so I can do what I want *throws glitter at you, but bioglitter because microplastics*.

Disclaimer:  I doesn’t owns the movies or the characters.  Or the assorted objects of pop culture reference.

The Men Cry Out, The Girls Cry Out

The intel from Rafa’s phone shows calls from ‘Ivan’ days before each suspicious article, and just once a call from ‘K’ the day before an article (after a series of back-and-forth calls with ‘Ivan’).

“What do we do with this information?” Ned asks aloud as they all stare at the newly gathered data on the case board.

“Well, Ivan must be the contact within the Tracksuit Mafia,” MJ concludes.  “He must be the guy I saw handing Rafael money.  So then this ‘K’ dude must be someone higher up, somebody who had to get involved when Rafa was pushing back or wasn’t able to get a writer to fall in line.”

“None of which helps us find them,” Eddie concludes with a sigh.

“Maybe if you weren’t so busy with your defective toy, you could have gotten more info this morning,” Venom scoffs.

“Whoa!” they all yell.

“Not cool!” Peter tells the symbiote sternly.

“Only an ableist asshole whips out the D-word,” says MJ.

“Like, we get that you’re working this jealous-bitter-ex thing, but there’s such a thing as good taste,” adds Ned.

“I am not jealous,” Venom grumbles, sulking in a creepily bubbling mass in Peter’s collar.

MJ grabs Ned’s laptop.  “I’m gonna do some searching.  That Ivan guy got into the same kind of moving truck I saw in the chase footage on the news.  Some kind of dark green, with the attic-space extension over the cab.”

“I’m gonna go get us some donuts,” Ned says, tucking tail the way he usually does when suffering secondhand embarrassment.

“No,” Peter hisses to himself.  “No, I’m gonna tell him.  Because this whole thing between you is really becoming intolerable again and it’s your fault for not talking about it, so I’m gonna tell him!”

Eddie waits.

“Mr. Brock, Venom needs to tell yo—”

“Don’t you dare!” growls the symbiote, lashing out with a tendril that Peter easily dodges.  “Hold still so I can kick your skinny ass!”

At that point, they become a mess of flailing limbs and deflected strikes (and at one point an alarming amount of pointy teeth which then get mercilessly punched with a super-strong fist).

“Don’t break my shit, or I’ll set you on fire,” MJ threatens, eyes still locked on her Internet search.

“Venom feels really terrible for making you feel bad before and that’s why he keeps getting angry when people bring it back up,” Peter rushes to say before dodging another strike.  “Also, he’s really jealous of Mr. Murdock because he’s always wanted to make you smile like that.”

With a growled accusation of betrayal, Venom rips free of Peter and splashes into the enormous aquarium in the living room.  Peter shakes himself like a dog (Eddie remembers that awkward, ticklish, semi-naked feeling of having Venom leave).

“Don’t hurt my fish, either!” MJ yells.

And shit, now Eddie kind of wants to go sit by the fish and talk about their shit.  Therapeutic, or whatever.

But what the fuck good would that do?  Not like V’s learned a damn thing.  He ends up in a body he can’t bully, the kid outs his emotions, and his response is to go pout in a fish tank?

Unbidden, the memory of that botched breakfast surfaces.  Venom had tried to get Eddie and Anne back together to make Eddie happy, and when Eddie gave up, Venom tried to make breakfast to cheer him up…

Being shit at it doesn’t mean he’s not trying.

Stupid damn parasite isn’t gonna get better at being a friend if nobody shows him how.

So Eddie goes and sits next to the fish tank.

“Hey,” he says without looking.  “Not a fun feeling, is it?  When somebody you love—somebody you’re in love with—does things against your wishes and you can’t stop them.”

“if you’re here to gloat, you can fuck off,” says a tiny, soggy voice.

“Not gloating.  Just pointing out I know how it feels.  I also know how it feels for somebody you’re in love with to make you feel like you’re constantly fucking up.”

“i don’t feel like that.”

“Yes, you do.  And you made me feel like that, too.  There’s a lotta stuff I like about Matt, but that’s my favorite:  he goes outta his way to make sure I don’t feel like a fuckup.  I told him last night—I like who I am around him, and I haven’t liked myself in a long time.”

“…not even when we were together?”

“No, V.  When we were together, I liked us, and I loved you.  But I hated me.”

Venom is quiet for a long time.  “i was a shitty friend,” he decides.  “and a very shitty boyfriend.  but you loved me anyway.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“i’m sorry, eddie.  i am bad at being kind.  peter says i have unresolved trauma, and according to the internet, he’s right.  he has suggested we hug it out, but i am not a fan of hugs, as you know.”

Eddie looks over his shoulder and sees a jellyfish-like blob of blackness floating in the water.  “Okay, that’s progress.  You can’t exactly talk to a therapist or nothin’, but maybe you could talk to me?”

“my first host was a kree soldier,” Venom says in a slightly bigger voice.  “i was a weapon, regardless of my own wishes.  when riot and the others rebelled, i ran away with them.  riot said we could never trust a host, and we should kill them before we could be used again.  i didn’t kill my host; that is why i was a loser on that asteroid.  they called me weak and trusting.  naïve.  i hurt you because i wanted to feel strong, which dr. phil says is a classic expression of generational abuse cycles, but does not excuse bad behavior when we know it to be hurtful.”

Eddie is grudgingly impressed.  “Dr. Phil, huh?  So you really have been working on yourself?”

“peter and mj have forced me to.  but also i want to be better.  for him.  for you.  for whoever hosts me next.  i have to fix what the kree broke in me, or i’ll only keep hurting my hosts.  i have a lot of anger, but the people who deserve it are dead.”

Wow.  Venom definitely has a better handle on identifying his issues than Eddie ever has, which is kind of humbling.  Eddie clears his throat and nods.  “Good, uh…good for you, V.  And…apology accepted.”

“…he’s the one who makes me feel like a fuckup, not peter.  that’s why i don’t like him.”

Eddie frowns.  “Who, Matt?”

“it was so easy for him to make you smile, and he can’t even appreciate it.  you’re pretty when you’re happy.”

“I’m really not.”

“you are.  anne always thought so, too.”

Eddie clears his throat again, pretending not to be flattered and embarrassed.  “You want me to go get Parker?”

“i will stay here for a while.  the fish are relaxing.”

~*~*~

MJ’s (extremely thorough) search determines that the green trucks were at the underground auction, at the apartment fire, at the bridge chase, and at the scene of the bribe.  ‘Trust A Bro Moving Company,’ which is a part of Sloan, the company Eleanor Bishop spoofed onto her fiancé’s file.  Other Sloan businesses include Fat Man Used Cars and Fat Man Gym.  It’s like Kingpin gets his jollies from daring people to find his shadier dealings.

So, here’s the team mascot, the faithful Great Dane, poking around with the most harmless, airheaded persona he can.

“Hello?” Eddie calls as he sticks his head in the door (a bell jingles discordantly, several years past its prime).  There’s nobody in the front office, but he can hear talking in the next room.

A guy in a red tracksuit comes out with a fake-ass smile.  “Happy holidays!  What can a bro move for you, sir?”

“Yeah, sorry, I just saw one of your trucks in my neighborhood the other day,” Eddie says, waving his thumb at the green eyesore outside.  “My place just burned down, and I was wonderin’, do you guys haul junk and trash?  ‘Cause my landlord’s telling me I gotta spring for the cleanup if I want him to pay the repairs, and I looked in my rental agreement and the tightwad’s right.  I got a quote from some contractor guy who was staking the place out, but it’s a little rich for my stomach, if ya know what I mean.”

Mr. Customer Service gives a slightly more sincere smile.  “Sure, bro, we’ll haul anything.  Junk’s even easier, since you don’t care if it gets broken.”

“Great!  You got, like, a form for me to fill out?”

They do.  It asks for his name, phone number, address, estimated square footage, preferred pickup time, destination, and payment method.  The payment options listed are ‘Cash,’ ‘Traveler’s Check,’ and ‘Gift Card.’  Oy vey.  Why not just put ‘money launderers’ on the front window?

“Oh, good, you take cash,” Eddie says cheerfully.  “Everybody seems to want plastic these days, but who can afford all the fees, am I right?  Banks are just gangs of thieves in suits anyhow.  Wall Street bastards, overcharging honest folks into obliv—”

“Thank you very much, we will call you soon!” the guy interrupts, snatching up the form with gritted teeth.

Something suicidal in Eddie can’t resist snarking with, “I catch you at a bad time?  Bro?”

The guy visibly collects himself and huffs out a humorless laugh.  “Ah, yes, sorry.  I don’t mean to be rude, but my boss has really been on my back.  You know how it is, holiday rush…”

“Yeah, no, I get it.  The big guy’s riding you to get results.  Must be rough, being a slave to the Fat Man’s whims.”

Mr. Customer Service is no longer amused.  “What did you say?”

Eddie casually points to the jolly ceramic figure on a nearby desk.  “Y’know—Santa.”

“Ah.  Yes.”

“Happy holidays,” Eddie says with a smile, and walks out.

Outside in the cold, he shoves his hands in his pockets and curses himself.

“Great job, Eddie, always gotta poke the fuckin’ bear…  Trying to take down this evil bastard is what got you run outta town before.”

He pauses a step, then starts walking again.

What if some of what he knows carries over?  The presidents have been the same, the key senators are the same…  Yeah, there are people with super powers, and that’s a pretty big diff, but other shit seems real close.

He found five laundering businesses, two arms stockpiles, and a drug lab, all an instant too late to tie it to Fisk before shit got sanitized or scapegoats got trotted out.  What if even some of it’s the same?  Two of the laundering operations were on MJ’s list for Sloan.

“Heh, mascot, my ass,” he mutters.  “Get some Scooby Snacks ready, kids…”

He calls MJ just because she’s his usual point of contact, so it won’t look weird if Rafa or somebody gets his phone.  After a few rings, it goes to voicemail.

“Shit.  You guys better not be in trouble and need rescuing right now, or I’ll ground you all for life.  I’m chasing some old leads, hoping they’ll turn into new leads.  Once upon a time, there was a guy named Lopez who worked at a place called Fat Man Auto Repair, which happens to be on the same property as Fat Man Used Cars, and he was definitely in deep with organized crime near Hell’s Kitchen.”

And away he goes.

~*~*~

And really, the first warning should have been the boarded windows.

The second warning should have been the angry chick stomping off into the snow just as the sun came back out.

Red flag number three should have been all the Tracksuits lollygagging around the place.

But, hey, all that seemed to point to Eddie being right.  Deliciously, beautifully, vindicatingly right.

The bloom of hot pain just below his ribs seems to point to Eddie being a goddamn idiot.

The guy who pulled the trigger looks surprised for a moment, like maybe he never shot anybody before, but then he gets that mad dog look they sometimes do, and he pulls the trigger again, and a third time.

It’s not Eddie’s first time being shot, but the novelty hasn’t worn off yet.  It hurts, and he can’t catch his breath, and his hands are shaking too badly to put pressure on the wound.  Wounds.  And that’s problematic, since he doesn’t have an alien goo monster putting him back together.

So much for those Scooby Snacks…

Somebody is yelling—roaring.  There’s a fight going on somewhere, but Eddie’s trying to stay on his feet, but he can’t remember why…

It doesn’t hurt when he hits the ground.  It’s cold and wet and crunchy.  And red.

White sky, high up.

Can’t catch his breath.

His mouth tastes like pennies and warm milk.

There’s something heavy on his chest—in his chest?

Gloved fingers on his face, then bare skin.  His ears are filled with a low hiss and a high ringing.  Someone’s talking, far away.  More voices.  Crying out.  They sound sad.  More fingers, smaller.

MJ’s pinky ring stings like a bitch when she slaps him.  For a moment, the ringing clears.  “You’re going into shock,” she says loudly, firmly.  “Focus.  Squeeze Matt’s hand.  Ned says Peter’s—”

Her voice fades away under the ringing again, and he chokes for a moment before managing a cough.  But then he still can’t catch his breath.  Something liquid is sliding down or up, like accidentally swallowing pool water, or getting his sinuses irrigated when he had a bad infection…

White.

Cold.

And then nothing.

I got us.

Black.  Sliding between bone and tissue, eating the misplaced blood to use as raw material, growing holes closed, discarding three little lumps of lead.

Nestling back in the hollow space between stomach and heart where it belongs.

HOME

Whole.

Wet fingers squeezing his—theirs—a little too hard.

Matt

They squeeze back, and Eddie manages to open his eyes.  “Well, that coulda gone better,” he admits.

Matt laughs at him, but he’s crying, too—nose gone pink and hair mussed from the mask discarded next to him in the snow—and he’s so damn pretty.  “I’d yell, but Foggy would call me a hypocrite.”

“I thought the Devil only came out at night.”

“What, like a blind lawyer would have been a ton of help against those guys?”

“Coulda made cute faces at ‘em till they either adopted you or begged for mercy.”

Matt yanks him upright and into a hug.

Two other sets of hands touch his back.

“Had us worried, Scoob,” MJ teases, but Venom can taste the heat in her hands, hear them trembling ever so softly.

“Sorry,” says Peter.  “I’m sorry.  I know you said you didn’t want him, but I couldn’t think of anything else, and he didn’t want to do it against your will, but I made him do it, and it saved your life, so—”

“Parker.”

Venom curls away from Eddie’s heart for a moment, but settles right back.

“What I said was, it wrecked me when he left.”

STAYING

“Yeah, for how long?” Eddie retorts.

missed you love you. home. home not going not ever never neverneveragain.

“Said that last time.”

what if

He waits.

He can feel Venom curling through his thoughts, less obtrusive than the other times he’s done it.

we could keep Matt.  he can make me behave, and he can make you happy.

Eddie stares as Matt senses something and tilts his head with a little frown.

YES that settles it, i have decided we are KEEPING MATT.  you are welcome.

Eddie laughs and kisses Matt’s cheek.

“Is that good?” Matt asks.  “That seems good.”

“V says if he stays, we’re keeping you.”

You have something in your pocket.  Bumpy paper.  I read about it on the Internet!  It says…  Oh, that is SUPER-ROMANTIC, Eddie, you are being WOOED!

Aloud, the alien says, “MATT.  Eddie is an idiot who cannot read the bump-writing, but I can read his bird-brain mind, and since I am the most helpful friend-boyfriend ever, read this and become intolerably smug!”

A black tendril nudges Matt’s right hand and settles under his fingers.  After a moment, he looks confused, then stunned, then—as Venom predicted—smug.  “So, I hear you and Snowflake are in the market for a place to stay long-term?”

“Uh,” Eddie says with all the charm and eloquence of a squirrel that ate somebody’s reefer stash.

“We can discuss that later,” MJ says.  “Now that you’re not dead or dying, explain why the hell you thought it was a good idea to come here at all, let alone without backup.  And keep in mind that you’re lucky your boyfriend has really weird attachment issues and that Peter followed Hawkeye and found out he sent a note to meet somebody here tonight so we were already on our way check it out.”

“Oh.  Right.  One sec—”  He steals another kiss before handing Matt his mask.  “Okay, so in my universe—”

(“Wait, what?” Matt says.  “Shhhh,” says MJ.)

“—I had gathered up all kinds of great leads to taking down Kingpin, but I was just a tad too slow, and he got all his alibis and scapegoats and payoffs lined up.  Bastard got me blacklisted from every paper in the city, sent me running to the opposite side of the country.  I figured enough things were the same here that I might try to scope out my old leads.  Unfortunately, it paid off.  I still got more leads to follow up on, though, and with V aboard, I fix up good as new.”

“And I pay better attention.”

“Asshole.”

“It’s true!  Remember Kasady and his little map?”

“You’re not cute enough to be smug about one case,” Eddie declares.  “You’re gonna have to work your way up.”

“Tell you what, boys,” says Matt—well, the mask is back on and he’s just pulled on his gloves, so technically he’s Daredevil now.  “I know a private eye who works pretty cheap when good people are getting the short end of some rich guy’s stick, and she happens to have kept off Fisk’s radar.  Give me your list, and she and I can have a look.”

“No way, the Tracksuits are my scoop!” MJ growls.

“Also, two more superheroes, right here,” Peter adds, pointing to Eddie and himself.

Daredevil shakes his head.  “You’re a minor, Peter.”

“Super!  And a really good scientist-in-training!”

“Peter is objectively much more super and heroic than you are.”

“I will blast you out of my boyfriend and stuff you in a fish bowl,” Daredevil threatens.

“Kids, stop fighting or I will do all the heroics myself and probably end up dead again!” Eddie yells.  When the others have shut up, he goes on at a more reasonable volume, “Babe, invite your PI friend to the Batcave.  We’ll, uh, have a con-fab or whatever, divide the labor fairly, see about helping Hawkeye and nailing the Fat Man in time for Christmas.”

“How are we gonna pay her?” asks Peter.

Eddie heaves a sigh and pulls out his phone.  “Snowflake has currently raised us twenty-seven thou and counting, thanks to that viral marketing thingy Queen MJ pulled.”

“H-h-how—”

MJ shrugs.  “I tagged Flash and showed him that vid of you asleep in the suit with Snowflake on your lap.  Did you know he has three hundred thousand followers on Insta and over a million on Twitter?  He shared the GoFundMe link with the tag ‘give a buck for Spidey’s favorite kitty.’“

Peter looks slightly frightened.  “I love you so, so much.  Please never turn into a super-villain.”

“Now that’s out of the way,” MJ says, standing up and looking around the back lot of the auto shop.  “Whaaaaat are we gonna do about all these unconscious goons?  I think at least one probably needs a doctor.  Daredevil got a little enthusiastic.”

“Mm.  Sorry, not sorry.”

“Don’t worry—not judging.  They shot the dog, John Wick kicked their asses.”

.End.

#fanfic #CANON DIVERGENCE #Venom liked the MCU so I let him stay as a treat #Matt/Eddie #rarepair #fandom: MCU #handwaving the hell out of this timeline #fic series: glitter (venom MCU)

[ao3feed-lokiangst]

Stan Lee Private School

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/W6fxjbF

by But_gay

The texts of Lee Private School students and few little bits of writing as well

Words: 7358, Chapters: 3/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Other

Characters: Loki (Marvel), Sylvie (Loki TV), Mobius M. Mobius, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Yelena Belova, Kate Bishop, Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes, Makkari (Marvel), Druig (Marvel), Sprite (Eternals), Sersi (Marvel), Sam Wilson (Marvel), Matt Murdock, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Jessica Jones, Shang-Chi (Marvel), Katy Chen, Xu Xialing (Marvel), Marc Spector, Steven Grant (Marvel)

Relationships: Loki/Mobius M. Mobius, Hunter B-15/Sylvie (Loki TV), Jane Foster/Thor, Kid Loki (Loki TV) & Loki & Sylvie (Loki TV) & Thor, Pietro Maximoff & Wanda Maximoff, Agatha Harkness & Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff & Wanda Maximoff & Vision, Darcy Lewis/Monica Rambeau, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Harry Osborn & Peter Parker, Harry Osborn/Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Shuri, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson, Katy Chen/Xu Xialing, Katy Chen & Shang-Chi & Xu Xialing, Casey/Ravonna Renslayer, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange, Druig/Makkari (Marvel), Sersi/Dane Whitman, Phastos/Ben Stoss, Gilgamesh/Thena (Eternals), Ajak & Druig & Gilgamesh & Ikaris & Jack & Kingo & Makkari & Phastos & Sersi & Sprite & Thena, Clint Barton & Kate Bishop, Kate Bishop/Maya Lopez, Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson & Karen Page, Luke Cage & Jessica Jones & Matt Murdock & Danny Rand, Matt Murdock & Elektra Natchios, Other Canon Relationships Mentioned

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, I add to this when I have ideas, queer friend groups, Friendship, chatfic, group chats, Texting, More tags to be added, if you're interested read the first chapter, it's a character guide, queer highschoolers written by a queer highschooler

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/W6fxjbF

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #loki #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #angst