#i knew you were trouble acoustic

[klaushargreeeeves]

speak now tv vs red tv

1. mine / state of grace

2. sparks fly / red

3. back to december / treacherous

4. speak now / i knew you were trouble

5. dear john / all too well

6. mean / 22

7. the story of us / i almost do

8. never grow up / we are never ever getting back together

9. enchanted / stay stay stay

10. better than revenge / the last time

11. innocent / holy ground

12. haunted / sad beautiful tragic

13. last kiss / the lucky one

14. long live / everything has changed

15. ours / starlight

16. superman / begin again

17. electric touch / the moment i knew

18. when emma falls in love / come back … be here

19. i can see you / girl at home

20. castles crumbling / state of grace (acoustic version)

21. foolish one / ronan

22. timeless / better man

#mine #sparks fly #treacherous #i knew you were trouble #dear john #22 #the story of us #we are never ever getting back together #enchanted #better than revenge #holy ground #haunted #the lucky one #long live #starlight #superman #the moment i knew #when emma falls in love #i can see you #state of grace (acoustic version) #ronan #timeless #taylor swift

[canonbisexualbuck]

eras tour setlist (detailed)

miss americana & the heartbreak prince (NOT full song)

cruel summer (chorus, bridge, chorus)

welcome/she's so happy to be on stage again + spoken introduction into

the man (full song)

you need to calm down (verse 2, chorus, bridge, chorus)

longer welcome speech, eras tour night 1, thanking fans for showing up & celebrating opening acts. telling crowd we're doing one era at a time!!!!

lover (full song) acoustic guitar

the archer (full song) + electric guitar solo for costume change

fearless (full song)

you belong with me (full song)

love story (full song)

video interlude - showing woods/trees - for costume change

'tis the damn season (verse 1, chorus, bridge, chorus)

willow (full song)

marjorie (verse 1, chorus, bridge, outro)

speech/ it's been so long that she's toured and so much has happened since (new albums + rerecordings) & she's missed us. says she loves evermore despite what people on tiktok think

champagne problems (full song) acoustic piano

introduction of new keys player

tolerate it (verse 1, chorus, bridge, 2nd chorus, outro)

snake video/visuals for costume change

...ready for it (full song)

delicate (full song)

don't blame me (intro, verse 1, chorus, bridge, chorus, outro) + extended outro leading into lwymmd

look what you made me do (full song)

snake visual + abstract pink/purple colors + enchanted audio intro for costume change

enchanted (verses 1 & 2, chorus, bridge, chorus, outro)

video interlude with red audio snippets

22 (whole song)

we are never ever getting back together (full song)

i knew you were trouble (verse 1, chorus, bridge, final chorus)

speech about the red album & taylor's version

all too well (full 10 minute song) acoustic guitar

interlude: spoken wildest dreams lyrics/spoken seven lyrics - for costume change

invisible string (full song)

speech talking about folklore album & wanting to do something different than autobiographical albums

betty (full song) acoustic guitar

the last great american dynasty (full song)

august (full song)

illicit affairs (bridge repeated twice, outro)

my tears ricochet (full song)

cardigan (full song)

interlude for costume change

style (verse 1, chorus, bridge, chorus)

blank space (full song)

shake it off (full song)

wildest dreams (verse 1, chorus, bridge)

bad blood (chorus, pre-chorus & chorus, bridge, final chorus)

interlude for costume change

speech - introducing surprise song & her goal is not to repeat any of these songs on tour

surprise song: mirrorball (full song) acoustic guitar

another speech at piano (my live cut out though so idk what she was talking about)

tim mcgraw (full song) piano acoustic

interlude - water/crashing waves turning into clouds

lavender haze (full song)

anti-hero (full song)

midnight rain (full song)

vigilante shit (full song)

bejeweled (full song)

mastermind (full song)

final song: karma (full song) + farewells & final bows

#i did my best to catalogue everything while also navigating nuked livestreams so it is what it is #taylor swift #eras tour #eras tour setlist #eras tour spoilers #summer makes a post

[ladykailitha]

Staking My Claim Part 6

And here we are! The end of this sweet little story. I had a blast writing it and I enjoyed all the comments and tags. Thank you so much.

We get to the "is this set after canon or a no monster AU *shrugs* could be either" part of the story.

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3| Part 4|Part 5

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

***

When he woke up next it was dark out and his stomach was growling. As he sat up he could smell the warm heat of something cooking in the kitchen. He went to the bathroom and washed his hands. He knew he should brush his teeth and he vaguely remembered Eddie saying something about a spare around here somewhere, but he couldn’t remember where. And he really, really didn’t want to go rummaging through the drawers.

He gave up and decided to do it after dinner and have Eddie show him where it was.

He ran his fingers through his hair to tame the tousled look to something more respectable. He really didn’t think it worked. He had slept with it wet and it would take getting it wet and washed before he could properly tame it.

Jeff grinned at him when he came stumbling out. “Just in time, man. Eddie’s making his famous spaghetti.”

“It smells heavenly,” he murmured.

“Just wait ‘til you taste it, Stevie,” Eddie said with a wide, happy smile. “It’ll blow your mind.”

Steve blushed. “You didn’t have to wait for me to eat, I could have reheated leftovers or something.”

Jeff and Eddie shared a grin.

“This is when we usually eat,” Jeff explained. “We were working on a song for our band earlier.”

“I’m our lyricist,” Eddie said. “Jeff is the composer. He takes my silly little words and turns them into songs.”

Steve nodded. “And you guys play at Cora’s Den?”

“The Hideout and Alleyways, too,” Jeff confirmed. “But yeah, Cora’s Den is our main spot though, which is why Mrs. Hughes pays for this apartment for us to stay at when we’re here.”

“I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around the fact that Gareth’s parents are rich enough to afford a three bedroom apartment in the middle of Indy for you guys to crash at whenever you want,” Steve admitted. “My parents would never do that.”

Eddie shrugged. “We knew Gareth’s family had money when he first started playing with us. No poor schmuck living in Forest Hills was going to buy their ten year old a drum kit and remain sane.”

“Yeah,” Jeff agreed. “We just didn’t know how much until he offered his parent’s garage to practice in. That place has better acoustics then most bars we’ve played in.”

“Just what do his parents do?” Steve asked in awe.

“They run those fancy boutiques for pets,” Eddie said. “They have five shops around the country. Here in Indy, Chicago, New York, LA...and what’s the other one?”

“Miami,” Jeff said.

Eddie snapped his fingers. “That’s it! They charge hundreds of dollars for rich morons to make their pets as pampered as possible.”

“That explains more than it doesn’t,” Steve sneered. “My parents hate animals. The thought of a pet treated better than they treat their own son would have driven them crazy.”

“Not even a goldfish in the Harrington household?” Jeff asked, cocking his head to the side.

Steve laughed bitterly. “And have the water spill on the perfect hardwood floors? Not likely.”

“Even I had a hamster at one point,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “You are seriously missing out.”

“I’m hoping when I get a place of my own I’ll be able to get a cat,” he confessed.

“Aww...” Eddie said. “What kind?”

Steve shrugged. “Probably a rescue.”

Jeff and Eddie smiled softly.

“Sounds good, Steve,” Jeff murmured.

“Food is done!” Eddie said with a flourish. “Spaghetti in meat sauce.” He blinked for a moment. “You’re not vegetarian are you?”

Steve laughed. “No. You probably missed me tucking into the bacon and sausage for breakfast.”

Eddie tilted his head to the side. “Oh right.”

He dished out the food on three plates and handed one to each of Jeff and Steve before grabbing his own plate and sitting on the other side of Steve.

They tucked into their meals and ate quietly. A testament to how good it tasted.

For Steve, it was warm and hearty, filling a void he didn’t know he had. Even when he was in high school, he didn’t have a lot of guy friends and while he loved the Party with all his heart, it wasn’t the same as hanging out with people his age.

Once they were done, Jeff did dishes. Eddie led him over to their large fluffy sofa.

Steve settled in, curled up to Eddie’s side as he talked with Jeff about the new song.

It had been so long since he felt this safe. Like if he drifted off to sleep right now, he would be protected.

And wasn’t that just something.

Eddie’s voice broke through his revery. “Hey, sweetheart. I think you’re falling asleep again.”

“Being drugged sucks.”

Jeff laughed. “It sounds like you’ve been drugged more than once, man.”

Eddie and Steve looked at each other, then Steve winced.

“I may have angered a couple of Russian officers when I accidentally stumbled on their very illegal operation under the Starcourt Mall?” he said through gritted teeth.

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Considering how messed up Hawkins is, nothing surprises me anymore.”

Eddie and Steve huffed out a laugh.

“You’ve got that right,” Eddie said. “Come on, darlin’, let’s get you to bed.”

They got ready for bed and Steve finally got that toothbrush to brush his teeth. He washed his face and Eddie led him back to his bedroom.

Once Steve had gotten comfortable, he pulled Eddie to him before he could protest.

“You’re mine now,” Steve murmured happily. “I licked you. Remember?”

Eddie chuckled. “I guess finder’s keepers. I’ll happily be yours.”

They curled up on the bed and slept soundly knowing that they were heading back to Hawkins with more then the hookup they assumed it was going to be when Eddie first came to his aid.

And Steve couldn’t have been happier.

He was going to have to do something really nice for Robin as a thank you.

As he was falling to sleep, he felt Eddie lick the side of his face. He giggled and pressed their lips together. Eddie hummed happily.

“Love you, Stevie.”

“Love you, too, Eds.”

***

And if you saw this on Saturday, no you didn't. I hit post instead of schedule and it was not meant for human eyes yet.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @lololol-1234 @monsterloverforhire @mugloversonly @live-the-fangirl-life @hellfireone @lublix @breealtair @croatoan-like-its-hot @f0xxyb0xxes @jamieweasley13 @r0binscript @confuseddisastertm @sleepdeprivedflower @thedragonsaunt @dissociatingdemon @dragonmama76

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #corroded coffin

[arminsumi]

You have single-handedly restarted my eren obsession, how dare you be such a great writer 😔

accidentally calling Eren bro and he isn't having it- would 100% start fussing and be dramatic but you make that mistake infront of friends and he makes sure you *never* call him that again. 0-100 with this guy

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒꒱

EREN x f.reader

A/N: hehe no apologies 😈 mwa enjoy buttercup

♪ NOW PLAYING: streets

Overview; Eren hates it when you call him 'bro', especially around his friends. So he has a "talk" with you between the library aisles

Content; fluff, (very) spicy makeout

Warnings; 🔞mdni, Eren's a lil rough n mean, neck biting, marking

arminsumi's library

It was just a slip of the tongue. You and him were cooped up in his dorm room — that cramped, poorly-lit dorm room which had only one aspect you liked and that was the view from the window; you could see the stretch of city lights twinkling at night.

Eren was perched on the edge of his bed tuning his acoustic, and you laid comfortably spread-out. Occasional twangs filled the room as he tested his tuning abilities.

The two of you were knee-deep in a small debate about something you saw on social media the other day, you said something like "Bro, seriously?" and he stopped the whole debate, set down his guitar, and harped on that tiny nickname.

"What the hell?" he grimaced at you.

You looked at him dumbly, "What?"

"I'm not your 'bro'." he said disgustedly.

"Huh?" you laughed confusedly. "Uh, I'm sorry...?"

"Don't ever call me that again." he said seriously, as if you said something genuinely offensive.

He let out a heavy sigh and went back to tuning his guitar. The two of you continued debating like nothing happened, but Eren had an annoyed edge in his voice.

⁕⁕⁕

Now, that time in his dorm was just one minor incident of you calling him bro.

But one day in the library, you were sat with Armin, Jean, and Connie at the round white table in the corner, when that nickname slipped past your lips again.

Eren masqueraded an expressionless face in response, but you could tell he was pissed about something.

No one knew why, but Eren suddenly asked if he could have a "talk" with you in private. Armin amusedly raised his brows like oh, you in trouble-trouble.

You confusedly followed him, trailing in his tall shadow down to a quiet aisle.

The "talk" he wanted to have with you involved a lot of tongue. Between book-stuffed shelves of white, Eren grabbed a fistful of your hair and gently yanked it to tilt your head up, deepening his unexpected kiss.

"Erehn — " you gasped into his mouth. It was wet, warm, slippery, dizzying; it's like his lips were laced with drugs because your mind was transported into a hazy high state.

Between ragged breaths, Eren spoke in a deep, searing voice. "You call me that again in front of my friends, and 'm gonna make sure you regret it, understood?"

Eyes blazing with anger, one that teetered between being attractive and scary.

" 'sorryyy." you mumble through swollen lips.

He dove back in for more hotter, harder kisses. Eren's idea of teaching you a lesson involved less words and more actions; he kissed the hell out of you.

That might sound cute or cheesy, but no — no this is Eren we're talking about. When I say he kissed the hell out of you, I mean he kissed you until your lips felt hot, numb and swollen. Until you looked up at him erotically as if he just just gave you good dick.

He gave your hair another tug to expose your neck properly to his seeking lips. He latched onto a sweet spot just above your collarbone and bit down hard. Suckling, nipping, swirling his tongue, sinking his canines in as if he were a vampire. You almost moaned.

After he was satisfied with the "talk", he said something that stirred up something between your thighs.

"Baby learned her lesson yet? Yeah? Good. Now go show of that bite mark to my friends."

#🐦 freedom boy #eren #eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren x you #eren x y/n #aot #snk #eren yeager #eren aot #shingeki no kyojin #eren jaeger x reader #eren x fem!reader #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x y/n #aot x reader #attack on titan

[jksprincess10]

Hey! I love your writings! Especially your neighbour story’s! I saw you take requests… So I have an idea. What about no-outbreak neighbour x reader. Where the reader has a dad who doesn’t care about his daughter, never was there physically. So the reader basically spend her childhood mostly at Joel’s house. He taking care of her, being supportive and all. So, as she grew older and goes to the college the atmosphere maybe changes. Like lingering touches or glances. But he always holds himself back. She works maybe as a waitress besides college to safe some money. My thought was that on his 36 birthday she throws him a big surprise party, and bought with her saved money his biggest wish. Like a new car or something. Something he always dreamed of. To thank him for basically raising her? On the party some dude flirts heavily with the reader. And Joel finally has enough of hiding, with following smut and cuteness maybe? That would be amazing. I hope it’s understandable and not to much. Take care of yourself and have a great day/night! 😊

Hii ! Thank you for your request. I wrote something inspired by it but had to change some details for realism. I also made y/n more like Sarah's best friend so it didn't feel like grooming. Hope you still like it.

Daddy issues

CW: Age difference, power imbalance, daddy issues, alcohol, oral and fingering (f receiving), jealous ! Joel, BFD ! Joel, no outbreak AU.

When you moved to Texas for your dad’s work at 12 years old, you met the Miller family which included Joel Miller, a single dad in his 30s, and his daughter, Sarah. You immediately became friends with her, and she helped you survive your new school.

Your dad was never really there, especially since your mom had abandoned your family for another man. It became even worse when you moved to Texas. He was away for days, but you were used to it. You could function like a little adult, cooking, doing laundry and cleaning. You didn’t really have a childhood.

Mr. Miller saw how often you were left alone. He didn’t say anything, didn’t ask questions, but did offer you to stay over a lot. You offered to help him cook in exchange, as he was always working late hours. He was a sweet man, who took care of his daughter and of you. Your relationship with Joel was also distant, he didn’t really know how to socialize with teenage girls like his daughter, but he was caring.

Over the years, your relationship with your dad stayed tense, and distant. But college gave you some freedom, you were legally an adult, you had a job as a waitress at a 24/7 diner. You worked insane hours to move out eventually, and also, to repay your debt to Mr. Miller. Your relationship with him had evolved over the years. With you in your 20s, and him at his 45th birthday coming up, you had developed a… crush on your best friend’s dad.

It was stupid, yes, and your daddy issues probably had something to do with it. But when he started seeing you as an adult and you started seeing him as a man, you felt some stares, lingering touches sometimes as you helped him cook diner for Sarah. You would flirt discreetly sometimes, hoping he’d notice.

Honestly, it was probably inappropriate, and you tried to push your crush away, not wanting to get him in trouble like he had groomed you. When, in contrary, he saved you and was always respectful. Sarah, of course, never knew. You had a few boyfriends and him, a few girlfriends. He was protective of you, so you never let him meet your partners.

Joel’s 45th birthday would be special. You and Sarah organized a big surprise party at your house (because your dad was gone, of course). You had spent months putting money aside to buy him a new acoustic guitar (his old one got broken by an ex… long story), and you were excited to finally give him his gift.

After your morning shift, you met Sarah at your house and finished decorating. The cake was safely stored in the fridge stocked with a lot of alcohol. You only had to wait for people to get here and for Joel to come back from work.

“I’m nervous.” said Sarah as she was hanging banners on the stairs.

“Because Joel hates surprises?” You guessed while you took care of the other side of the banner.

“Yeah… but he never does anything for himself.”

“I know. He’ll be happy.” You reassured her.

**

Family, friends and colleagues were waiting anxiously in the darkness of your home while you and Sarah welcomed Joel at his own place. You covered his eyes with a piece of fabric and you both guided him outside of the house. Your hand was latching onto the strong muscle of his bicep, which sent shivers through his body.

“I swear to God, if you two organized something for my birthday…”

“Shush, you’ll love it, dad.” Said Sarah with a smile.

SURPRISE !

He rolled his eyes once his mask was off, but his smile betrayed the annoyance he was trying to portray.

**

You ate the cake in a corner of the kitchen. There were people everywhere in the house, it was getting a bit overwhelming for you. Joel checked in on you after he was done with all the attention he was getting.

“So who’s idea was it?” He asked.

You lifted your chin to look at him with a smile, your fork playing with the white icing.

“Like I’m gonna tell you.” You responded, before stuffing the icing in your mouth.

Joel coughed awkwardly and tapped his neck nervously. He tried to ignore the way your pretty eyes looked at him suggestively while you were eating the white cream. Your eyebrow shot up as you were looking innocently at him, but you didn’t make any comment. You simply pointed your fork towards him.

“You haven’t even tasted the cake. Eat, so I can give you your gift.”

“You’re bossier than Sarah.”

“Learned from the best.”

Still, he leaned in, his mouth wrapping around the fork as he tasted the cake. You were totally staring.

“Fiinne, the cake’s good. I’ll get myself a piece. But I don’t want no gift, darlin’.”

The pet name made your chest flutter. It wasn’t the first time he called you darling, of course, but there was something more intimate in the air tonight. Like you would finally get more of him.

Joel left you, your cheeks red and your fork stuck mid-air.

**

“C’mon, open up.” You encouraged him.

Everyone was looking at him, and he hated it. But he wanted to make you smile, so he tore apart the wrapping paper that hid the big box.

“This big box and you probably gave me socks.”

“You’ll see.”

His mouth fell as he discovered the expensive acoustic guitar you had bought. For once, Joel was speechless.

“Darlin’, you shouldn’t have… You’re putting money aside for movin’ out…”

“I took more shifts. Turns out I can do both… And I really wanted to thank you properly. For always having me here when you know…. Dad…”

The word “dad” hurt. You didn’t like saying it. In your mind, you had no father figure. Joel imprisoned your body in the cage of his big arms, hugging you tight. You swore you had seen some tears in his eyes.

“I’ll always be here, darlin’.”

“I know.” You smiled and laid your head against his chest, as he kissed the top of your head.

With Sarah’s gift, a new watch, Joel was a spoiled man. The party really started after the gift exchange, everyone drank more, the older people left, and Joel tested his new guitar. Joel had lost his eternal flannel shirt somewhere and his greying curls had a mind of their own. You liked him like this, free.

You danced innocently to the beat of the 80s music that Joel liked and a few younger people joined you – cousins, colleagues’ kids you didn’t know. A tall guy, probably in his mid 20s, dark brown hair swiped to the side and green eyes, approached you. He was good-looking and seemed nice enough. You put your arms around his neck to bring him closer, your bodies following the same rhythm.

He asked for your name, said you were pretty. His name was Bryan. He was the son of one of Joel’s colleagues.

“What’re you doing after this?” He asked. You shrugged.

“No plans yet.”

Before he could ask for anything, you felt strong arms pulling you away.

“Darlin’ we need to get John’s coat upstairs, can ya help me find it?” Joel familiar accent resonated over the loud music.

“S-Sure!”

You shrugged to the stranger, and your eyes were apologizing for you.

Once in the room alone with Joel, you turned around with John’s coat in your hands.

“Don’t tell me you couldn’t find it; it was literally at the top.” You sighed.

The older man had closed the door and he seemed like he was trying to say something, but he was held back, his mouth not making any sound.

“I didn’t like seein’ ya with Bryan. Guy’s a womanizer.” He finally said.

You frowned and crossed your arms.

“Joel, I can figure that out by myself. I’m an adult. Tell me what’s really going on.”

He got closer, his height towering over you. You looked up at him, trying to see what was going on behind those pretty chocolate eyes. His hand held the side of your face, and you felt your heart jump out of your chest.

“Can we… talk about what’s goin’ out with us?”

“Joel, you’re drunk.”

“M’not, darlin’. I’m really sober. I noticed the way you were starin’ earlier and… every day, really. Since you became a woman.”

You turned your head away.

“Fuck, I know it’s wrong.” You whispered, like the words scared you. “But I like you a lot.”

It was a confirmation for him, enough for him to take the scary jump and kiss you. You yelped, then grabbed his neck to bring his body closer to yours, tasting the hints of sweetness of the cake and the bitterness of the beer on his tongue.

“I want more, just this once. Then we don’t have to talk about it again…”

“Okay.” You simply said, breathless.

The pile of coats fell to the floor as your tangled bodies met the softness of your mattress. Joel was towering over you, his broad frame becoming your whole view. Your hands explored his biceps, as he was looking at you intensely. He tried to determine his next move.

“Can I take this off?” He asked as he pulled on the hem of your dress.

You nodded enthusiastically and helped him pull the clothing over your head. You were wearing a dusty pink laced matching set under it. It was like you intended to take someone home after this. You saw hints of jealousy in Joel’s dark eyes. You caressed his cheek and he softened under your touch.

“You intended to go home with someone tonight, darlin’? Naughty girl.”

You blushed profusely. “Let’s not talk about it…”

To focus his attention elsewhere, you helped him take off his t-shirt. You ran your fingers over his skin, exploring parts of him you had never seen before. You mostly did it to hide the shaking of your hands.

“M’gonna take good care of you, don’t worry.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

His large hand trailed down your body and caressed your wetness through your laced panties, ruining the thin fabric. You whimpered softly and grabbed onto him.

“So fuckin’ wet.”

He discarded your underwear and took in the view of your perfect cunt. His digits explored your wet folds, feeling his way to your pleasure. You squirmed a bit.

“We have to be fast, Joel, they’ll see we’re missing…”

The older man sighed. He wanted to take his time with you, but he couldn’t be greedy. He agreed and opted on plunging his head between your thighs to prepare you faster. He licked through your folds, rapidly finding your sensitive bundle of nerves. You fisted the blankets as you moaned, still trying to keep it quiet so the whole party downstairs didn’t hear you.

“I know, I know… you have to be quiet for me, baby girl.”

He held his palm over your mouth, and you nodded obediently. He kept licking at your bud enthusiastically, finding a rhythm that you enjoyed. Your thighs almost closed together, but Joel kept them apart with his free hand.

Then, he sneaked in one finger, stretching you slowly. Everything about him was big, but you tried to relax.

“Y’okay?”

You nodded.

He added another finger, as he sucked on your clit to make you think about something else than the pain. You let out a small “Fuck” under the cover of his palm. While he took care of you, you played with your breasts to get more stimulation. All the sensations drove you slowly to the edge. You had your orgasm silently, but your whole body was shaking, your back arched up. He helped you through your pleasure, before leaving your wetness. Joel put his arms around you to cuddle you as you were coming down your high.

“Don’t think I’ll be able to live without this.” You finally said as you came down from your high.

Joel smiled proudly and pressed his mouth against yours in a slow, sensual kiss.

He stopped when the door of your bedroom opened, letting in some light and noise. You hid yourself quickly with the blankets and panicked as you saw Sarah standing in the doorframe.

#bfd ! joel miller #bfd ! joel #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x yn #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #writing requests

[a-libra-writes]

can I please request for a Mordecai Heller x female reader? like reader is a showgirl who sings on stage like Mitzi one and tends to attract a lot of attention but backs out when they feel this murdercat plotting their death lmao. thank you 😁

heyo! I decided to do a looot of the cats for this one, since its p similar to my Peaky Blinders Jazz Singer post that I was fond of. GN Reader.

Being a Jazz Singer & Performer!

Rocky - When he was hired and met you for the first time, it was absolutely an "infatuation at first sight" situation. Pros!: He's unfailingly polite and sweet, he seems to play with even more energy when you two share a stage, his grin is very off-putting to creeps who shout up at the stage and harass you. Cons: He can get quite distracted when you two share a stage. Many times Zib has had to pull him back with the rest of the band, because he keeps unintentionally scooting closer to you.

The worst part of the Lackadaisy falling onto hard times is the fact you rarely worked there now - you had to sing at other clubs to make ends meet. One of Rocky's big motivators for getting the club back to its old self is you'd come back! Forever this time! (Probably). Rocky doesn't exactly have the time or money to visit the other clubs you work at, so he wants all of your attention during your infrequent visits to the Lackdaisy.

Freckle - Look, he's a shy kid, and the whole 'sneaking out under cover of night to do bootlegging/torpedo shenanigans' is still new. He doesn't have a lot of experience or frame of reference for what a good club singer is like, but Freckle thinks you've got to be one of the best. You have to be, right? Your voice is wonderful and you look positively celestial under the stage lights - wait, that's weird to think, right? Thank God he didn't say it out loud. ... He didn't, right?

Freckle hasn't the slightest idea of how to approach you, so it's up to Ivy and his cousin to drag him over and attempt conversation. It's... a little pitiable, but he's trying. That said, he's surprisingly outspoken and a little scary if someone tried to mess with you while you performed. You're used to the heckles and catcalls, but it's shocking to see that shy tabby jump up from his seat and raise his voice at them.

Ivy - She liked you from the moment she first saw you perform at the Lackdaisy, and that crush hasn't dulled over the months. She maaaay have kept a few posters that advertised the clubs you sang at, and may or may not have cajoled her way into those clubs so she could watch the show. She could easily sweet talk her way to backstage, too - seems you've got a fan.

When the Lackadaisy goes downhill, it's Ivy who wants to sweet talk you into returning. You'll bring in a crowd! The acoustics are great! Pretty pleeease? Her dad Ivy will pay you and not get in trouble until months later when the family accountant goes over the finances. Obviously she cares about the club's wellbeing, but she also wants to spend time with you! Though she's bold enough to just ask you outright. She's also bold enough to outright shout and fight anyone whose heckling you - throwing a heel is a favorite tactic.

Viktor - You're someone he saw often in the olden days, back when the club could afford to have you perform several times a week rather than once a month. Viktor never cared much for the cacophony the crowd and music made, though he knew objectively you were an excellent performer. Rather than endure the crowd, he'd listen to your voice drift across the caves backstage, rehearsing with the band or just by yourself. It was pleasant to listen to, and he could do so in private, either coming back from a job or about to go on one.

Once things began to fall apart, it's not as though he went around to clubs ... or anywhere, really. So if you stopped performing at the Lackadaisy, you might never see each other again. Choosing to stay (or at least do a few pity gigs) would lead to the surprising sight of the big, morose Slav working behind the bar and watching from there, rather than his previous hideouts. It's a little intense to be under that stare... but not all unpleasant? And given how sparse the crowd is, anyone making trouble and catcalling will get dealt with so promptly, they won't even have time to finish their wolf whistle.

Zib - Well, obviously he's going to be drawn in by an attractive singer. Come on. Zib can be smooth when he wants, chainsmoker-scent and rumpled clothes aside. The band likes to tease him mercilessly about it, but that doesn't stop him from cozying up while you two perform together and shooting his shot backstage after every show. Back when the Lackadaisy was thriving, he could afford to hang out at the other clubs you performed at; nowadays, though, that's not so likely.

Even so, starting up a friendship or even fling wouldn't be difficult. He's attracted to and interested in creative spirits, doubly so if you two had very different taste (so there's more to discuss!) and you got on well with the rest of the band. Late-night debates about this musician or that show over a game of cards and several bottles of wine, either together or with the rest of the boys, and waking up half-dressed and seriously hungover come sunrise. Opportunities for visiting would dwindle as the Lackadaisy's business dried up, though if you stayed on ... No, he wouldn't want that for you. If anything you'd be mentioning to him and the band that there's other places to perform to pay the bills. Well, it'd be food for thought.

Wick - Wick wouldn't call himself a music aficionado, especially what's listened to at these rowdy speakeasies, but he won't deny how hard it was to focus on his business associates when you were on stage. So when he discovered you often performed at his favorite club, it was a pleasant surprise. He really wanted to speak with you at some point, at least compliment the performance, but didn't want to come off as those typical entitled wealthy guys who get too fresh with ""lower"" class performers ... so sometimes you'd find flowers in the dressing room and an anonymous note of appreciation.

He finally gets a conversation when you're a guest at a posh party he's attending, or when you continue to perform at the Lackadaisy in spite of the dwindling crowd. It's a shame your large audience is missing, but at least it's way less awkward for him to strike up conversation when you come to the bar? He probably won't bring up the flowers. Oh god, what if you think that's weird. You probably assumed the flowers were some freak fan. Is he a freak fan? He's not, right? (It will take him like months of dating to finally admit to the flowers thing)

Serafine - A good-looking cat with a nice set of pipes is certainly someone she'd notice, especially if they were a regular performer at the Marigold Room and other places she frequented before that. If it was the former, she'd have plenty of chances to wink when you met eyes, "chancing" across you backstage or just being forward and chatting you up after the show. She certainly isn't shy about expressing her interest, and it could be a fun fling.

You do look adorable swinging your hips and swaying your tail along to the beat, not to mention the different get-ups you have to dress in. Serafine maaaay or may not have wanted to help pick a suit out, or help with make-up, or give you some of her jewelry to wear... It's half marking her territory and half she loves to lounge around your dressing room and be a pest. You'd never kick her out and she knows it. She'll do it in other clubs, too, though you have no idea how she keeps getting past security.

Nico - Like his sister, he has no qualms nor shame about trying to get your attention on stage. Unlike Serafine, though, he'd start doing it immediately and be a general pest after the show. The difference between his attention seeking and the other men's in the audience is he actually has some charisma when you two meet backstage, so you're only slightly inclined to tell him to buzz off. He wasn't much of a music expert, and he still isn't ... But he likes hearing you rehearse and hum to yourself, and it's endearing when he requests songs.

He's pleased when you get gigs at the Marigold Room, as it's easier to hang around before and after the show - and bonus, he gets to be extra aggressive with throwing creeps out to impress you! But if you're performing elsewhere then Nico will stop by. He might be bruised and/or bloody because he just left a job, but don't worry! Sometimes he'll even bring flowers or whatever - though without Serafine knowing, she'd never let him live it down.

Mordecai - He wouldn't approach you any differently from others - he'd still be his usual prickly, anti-social, often awkward self - in fact, he might avoid an avid performer, simply because they often have fans around them or at least people recognizing them. What could get his notice was someone whose real persona is very different from their ostentatious self on stage - more quiet and pensive, perhaps. Like any attempt at friendship, let alone romance, it's slow going with him.

That said, he's the type to admire professionalism in a performance. A well put together outfit, thoughtful musical arrangement (as if he's an expert ...). He wouldn't like a femme presenting singer have to wear skimpy clothes or tolerate a rowdy audience. If there was a questionable manager or creepy fan bothering them, Mordecai can deal with that, at least, not that he'd tell his friend/partner. Mordecai would generally glare down any touchy fans and annoying admirers like a jealous terrier. This amuses Mitzi to no end.

Asa - Simply put, he saw you performing at a ritzy party he was invited to and reached out to your manager so you might perform on a weekly basis at the Marigold Room. Very professional! He'd send flowers with his name to the dressing room afterward, would make sure you're finding everything to your liking and not being bothered by anyone. Requests to continue performing would bypass your manager to being nice, short handwritten notes.

Eventually he'd pay you extra and treat you to a nice dinner afterward, if you were comfortable with it. If you let the older man down, he's not too bothered. He'd continue the friendly business relationship and would still send flowers and so on. He'd rather keep you as a good business associate and continue to enjoy the performances than let his silly feelings get in the way. Alas, he is hopeless at discussions of your music. My guy called a ukelele a tiny guitar.

Wes - He never hung around the Marigold Room after hours - it's his workplace, and not really his vibe - but it's very hard to resist not sitting by for an hour (or three) with a drink while you finish your set. Sometimes you two will meet eyes, or he thinks you are, and he considers dropping backstage to say ... hello? He's an 'employee', so isn't checking up on you a normal thing to do? Make sure you're satisfied with the Marigold Room and all that. Right.

Ironically that's how he's finally able to meet the singer he's been mooning over for months. A drunk patron was getting too cozy on your way out, and Wes happened to be there. His face and ... charming demeanor is good for scaring off upper class wimps. So there's that. He's not so bad, though - clumsy, and prooobably realizes you're out of his league. You get to see more of his earnest side when you two meet outside of the Marigold Room, where his fellow murderous gangsters coworkers aren't watching yalls every move with popcorn in hand.

#posting 1 year later lets go lmao #lackadaisy x reader #rocky rickaby x reader #calvin mcmurray x reader #ivy pepper x reader #viktor vasko x reader #zib zibowski x reader #wick sable x reader #serafine savoy x reader #nico savoy x reader #mordecai heller x reader #asa sweet x reader #wes clyde x reader #also lmao sorry mordecai would not take a singer/semi famous partner well. too much attention #its funny to think abt tho like. cannot imagine this man has taste in upbeat jazz #cant even pretend to dance at least calvin tries!

[randomperson3736]

It's all my fault

Paring(s): Lo'ak x twin! Reader, Neteyam x sister! Reader, Neytiri x daughter! Reader, Jake sully x daughter! Reader, Tuk x sister! Reader, Kiri x sister! Reader, the sully's x reader

Genre: angst, kinda fluff

Warning(s): Character death, wounds, blood, crying, sad, fighting, get punched, swearing

Word bank: Y/N- your name, Ewya- great Mother

Notes: I am so sorry that this has taken so long for me to write/post and the reason for it is because I've been having some trouble finding ideas on how this part 2 is gonna go but thankfully I found some and I really hope u enjoy. Also I put a link to part 1 if Ur new to this mini series. P.S it was kinda rushed so it may suck.

(Listen to this while reading)👇👇👇

Part 1

TAG LIST: @sully-stick-together , @users09, @bobojojoba69 ---- I am so sorry I couldn't add some of the people who asked to be added 🙏

Y/N ran for what felt like forever, even though in reality it was just a few minutes. Tears stained her face but she didn't care about that since more kept rolling down from her yellow eyes. Her heart was pumping in chest, shallow breaths could be heard. She tripped on a fallen tree branch, her body trembling to the floor. Y/N didn't bother getting up, so she just curled up into a ball and sobbed. She thought back to the earlier event with Lo'ak. Never in her whole life had she seen him so angry, and never has he ever snapped at her once not even when she was annoying.

She felt like she had pushed too hard on him but deep deep down she knew it wasn't his fault, it was his. Soon her red, puffy eyes started to close as sleep took very quickly. Y/N could hear the soft breeze flowing though the trees and brushes, it also tickled her skin as her neck hairs stood up. But little did the young girl knew a massive Strom was coming and it wasn't just any ordinary Strom, this Strom started long before any one of her siblings were born this Strom has been going on for a long time. And it was ready for its revenge.

~timeskip~

Lo'ak didn't know where his twin was, no one did. His mother and Neteyam had been looking for her for atleast 2 hours and there has been no sign of her anywhere. Worry and guilt started to fill his stomach as his mind conjured up the worst case scenario. Her dead. Non-breathing Unmoving. Her blood everywhere. He tried to shake that thought off but it was still there lingering around the back of his mind.

In the background, he could hear Tuk crying as Kiri tried to comfort her but he knew she needed to be comfort juts as much. He knew it was his fault. He knew what he did was wrong and that he shouldn't have done it. He knew he needed to find her cause somewhere deep down in his stomach he knew where he was. So he slipped away making sure no one saw him as he ran off into the forest to find his twin.

~back to Y/N~

When she woke up again, she hadn't realised how long she had been asleep. Y/N didn't even know where she was. Suddenly large hands grabbed her, pulling her roughly up on her feet. She tried to scream but before she could cold metal touched her skin.

"You so much as scream or yell out for help... I'll blow your brains out" his voice was deep, sounded like he had no soul. Y/N just nodded not wanting to provoking him and possibly getting killed. She looked up to see atleast a glimpse of her so called kidnapper. She noticed the human like clothing he was wearing. He was an avatar. Probably from her father's past. She just hoped her father and mother or someone would find her before it becomes too late. But she knew that if someone didn't find her in time the worse will happen. So, she did the most stupid thing she has ever done. She bit down on his arm, hard. Very hard. The guy yelled out in pain before he turned around to face her. "You fucking bitch!"

The next thing she knew a loud bang could be heard and then everything went black.

~back to Lo'ak~

He could hear someone yelling in the distance, sounded human? He been in contact with fake Na'vi before and he definitely didn't like them. Lo'ak pulled at his knife, grip tight around it. He prayed to Ewya that Y/N was okay, she had to be, she needed to be. He couldn't lose her. She was the only one who understood him and never thought of him as a fake.

*BANG*

His head moved towards the direction of the loud bang, his briads covering his eye. His heart was beating so fast and so hard against his chest he thought it was going to pop out. He started to run towards the danger not caring about the out come he just needed to know that his twin, his ride or die wasn't at the end of that bullet.

A body soon came in view, it seemed to be covered in blood. As he got closer he finally saw who that body belong to. It was Y/N. His twin. His best friend. Tears started to form in his eyes as he pushed his legs faster. Faster to get to her. Faster to make sure she's live and not dead.

"Y/N!" Lo'ak's voice was shaking, fear feeling his stomach. He dropped om to his knees hard. Probably gonna leave a couple cuts on it but he didn't care all he cared about is her. "L-lo'ak?" Her was so quite, also like a whisper. He carefully moved her head onto his lap, making sure to put pressure on the gun shot wound on her lower abdomen. She let out a pained sob as more pain shot through her body. "Sorry, sorry. I know it hurts but I have to put pressure on it"

Y/N just started up at him still trying to process what happened just a few minutes ago. Her eyes slowly started to feel heavy but she tried to fight it just for a little longer. "Keep your eyes open" he spoke sternly, panting as he desperately spoke to her. Fixing his hand on her bleeding wound to try and stop the blood from leaving her body. Not once had she seen him look so vulnerable, so desperate. "Stay with me, don't-don't close your eyes" his voice was laced with something unfamiliar, a tone which Y/N had never from him before. Desperation was it? No, it was something more, something more painful.

"Y/N damn it" he cursed under his breath, holding her limp body now on his lap. His voice now filled with panic, "Please" that one word. That very word seemed to be so much more painful than the wound on her stomach, was it his tone? Was it the way he said it? Or was it the way his eyes looked, the way his eyes stained with tears.

Y/N could barely think, but everything looked clear despite the tears that clouded her eyes. The pain in her heart was greater than the pain from her stomach. Y/N wasn't ready, she wasn't ready to leave him, not ready to leave her family, not when she still had so much to live for. "Lo'ak" her weak voice called out for him. Perhaps his mind was playing a trick on him but he saw that same old smile om her face, a weak smile but it was still the same. "No" he cuts Y/N off, he couldn't hear what she was about to say, he refused to. Lo'ak knew exactly what she was planning in saying and he's far from accepting it. "Save your energy, don't-"

"I'm sorry, L-lo'ak"

"Y/N you can't, I can't" tears started to fall faster down his face now. "I'm the one who should be sorry, you have nothing-" Y/N cut him off by placing her hand on his cheek, wiping the tears that slipped away. "No. You don't have to apologise, Lo'ak" he cried quietly, but he felt everything all at once at that moment. Nuzzling his face into her now cold hand, weeping uncontrollably, no caring about who saw. "I can't do this without you. I-i'm so sorry about yelling at you, I d-didn't mean too just please don't leave me"

"Y/N please" he pleads, but he knew she was growing more weak by the clock. "Lo'ak. Y-you have to let me go" her hand slipped from his face as her eyes relaxed as her pupils widened, the blood stopped gushing out from the wound on her stomach and her heart stopped just as her chest went flat with her very last breath. "Y/N?" He looked down at her now limp body. "Y/N?! NO, NO, NO! PLEASE!" Lo'ak let out a pained scream, a scream that could be heard from the village. That scream got the attention of his family, making them run off into a sprint trying to find the source of the pained scream.

Neteyam and Jake were the first ones on scene and the site in front of them made their whole worlds come crashing down in one blow. Jake's body went numb, his expressen was emotionless, but his eyes told another story as tears rolled down his face. He started at his daughter, he couldn't except the fact that his babygirl was gone for good. He could hear his family's sobs from beside him, as he watched Lo'ak pulled his twin closer to his chest begging for some sort of sign that she was still alive but he knew that she was with Ewya now. "Y/N NO PELASE! OH, GREAT MOTHER PLEASE!" Lo'ak's voice was scratchy, shouting Y/N's name over and over again. His sobs were loud and controllable, he cried out for their great Mother begging her to bring his twin back. But deep down he knew she was never coming back. Neytiri moved closer to their son and fallen daughter, taking her limp hand into her own trying to find that familiar warmth that was always there but it cold.

Neteyam moved to sit next to Lo'ak with Y/N's unmoving body still in his lap. Neteyam knew that he and thier father had to move her body but he was frozen in place. He couldn't process it, no one could. He watched his father moved slowly towards Lo'ak to try and get their sister out of his grip. But surprisingly Lo'ak let go without trying to fight it. He looked so empty, almost like a shell you find at beach. It broke Neteyam's heart to see his brother like it but he knew he couldn't do anything to help with the pain Lo'ak was feeling m.

Neteyam watches as his mother sobs and screams over their loss as his tears fall onto his little sister's thigh. He places his hand on lo'ak's shoulder trying to comfort him in some way, but he knew that even himself couldn't stop the feeling of emptiness in his heart cause he too had that exact same hole in his. Lo'ak started at his shaking hands that were covered in his twin's blood. His head tilts back as he realised he just lost his twin sister, the one person who was always there for him when he had a nightmare or when their father would yell at him. She was the one soul that never thought of him as a freak or as an outcast and now she was gone. All beacuse of him. She was died because of his stupid mistake.

~sad bonus~

(Set four weeks after Y/N's death)

Lo'ak barely slept or ate, and even if he did he would just wake up screaming or throw up the food he actully ate. Neteyam and Kiri had tried over and over again to try and get him to atleast sleep for a few hours or eat something even if it was small. But everything they tried didn't work. Lo'ak just stayed in the same stop, staring out at the ocean, not moving an inch. This concerned the whole family but they knew in time that he would heal.

After everyone had left Lo'ak tried to get some sleep knowing that Y/N wouldn't want him to do this. He smiled for the first time in weeks at the thought first her yelling at him about this is unhealthy and that he could die too young. His eyes soon fall as sleep took over his mind. When he woke up he was in a dark room with only one bit of light and under that light was a young women just around his age or maybe Neteyam's.

"Hello?" He called out to the mysterious lady but only to get ignored. Until she turned around. Lo'ak's eyes widened in shock as tears started to form. His legs started to move on their own as they walked towards her. Y/N. His beloved twin.

"Y/N"

"Don't"

"It's not your fault, Lo'ak"

"..." lo'ak looked down at his feet and stared to play with his finger, a trent he had picked up from her when she died. "You have to let me go"

"I can't- I won't hear you out"

"Lo'ak, please"

"Just- just a little bit longer. Let me hold onto you for just for little bit longer. Please" the tears he had been holding onto finally fall, rolling down his cheeks. He didn't want to let her go cause if he let her go he wouldn't be able to see her smile or hear a laugh again. "Lo'ak I'm dead. Let me go"

"No, no, no please- please don't let me leave. I need to be here with you" his voice held so much pain as his spoke. Y/N just turned her body to the face the other way and started to walk away. "Wait-" before he could get the words out a strong wing started to blow him away, pulling him back into reality once again.

Neteyam had just came back from the beach to check on Lo'ak and see if he had moved from his spot. He was just about to walk in when he heard a loud sob from inside. Without thinking Neteyam ran inside to find lo'ak gripping his chest, his breath heavy, tears rolling down his face. Neteyam felt his heart break even more from the site infront of him. He couldn't stand to see his little brother like this. None of them could.

Without thinking he moved towards Lo'ak and pulled him into his chest, hugging him tight. He shushed his brother and whispered sweet things in his ear trying to calm him down. Lo'ak just held onto his brother as he cried out for his twin to come back. But he knew she was never coming back.

#avatar way of water #fypツ #jake sully x daughter!reader #neteyam #lo'ak sully x twin! reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak #sully family x reader #kiri #tuk #jake sully #Neytiri #x reader #x twin reader #sad #Spotify

[moonlezn]

Try Hard II

punk bassist!jeno x female!reader genre: fluff wc: 2k part I - part III a/n: this is a bit longer than I'd planned and maybe there's too much chenji best friend agenda. I did it for me and my fellow chenji baddies. this is so cute and honestly i hope you read it well <3disclaimers: mentions of piercings, some swearing. i'm not sorry for having done these edits of jeno with a labret piercing.

[6:58am] 

jisung: wake the fuck up  jisung: we’re gonna be late jisung: cmon LOSER jisung: fr i don’t wanna come into your room jisung: i’m gonna lose my mind and scream if you don't get up rn

the faint buzz under the pillow rolled you out of your sleep, lazily you got the electronic device in your hands, seeing your friend’s notifications. shit, you thought. snoozing would get you in trouble once again. great.

getting out of bed was harder than you thought. dragging your feet, you made your way towards the door so as to open it for jisung. he sighed in relief upon seeing you and happily got in after you motioned for him to enter the space. “you gotta stop snoozing. for real.” he whispered, not wanting to get on your bad side so early. you mumbled ‘good morning to you too’ in response. he chuckled lightly and watched as you gathered your things to get ready.

-

after that day’s lecture, having cooled off from the hectic run to avoid being late, chenle, jisung and you were hanging out near some other students on campus. the bodypiercer placed a finger under your chin and took a closer look at your recent piercing. “how’s it healing?”

“is it what you wanted?” his question implied another meaning, which you acknowledged by his discreet wink. 

you held back a grin, glancing away from your friends. and as if the universe was trying to play a prank on you, you see him. confidently walking around one of the halls heading the opposite direction from the three of you. his bass kept him company, as usual. jeno probably felt your eyes on him because he quickly scanned the area over his shoulder seemingly looking for something he didn’t find.

“it is.” you said to your friend, who smirked, realizing you understood his intentions. “but I’ve got to try harder, you know?”

“isn’t it just soap and saline solution to clean up? how the hell could you try harder than that?” jisung pointed out and both you and chenle grinned knowingly, nodding at his direction at the same time. “you’re weird.”

“what’s up, renjun?” the purple haired announced the third boy’s proximity. he held a friendly smile on his lips as he took the remaining steps towards the group to have a seat next to you. 

renjun was the coolest and sweetest guy on campus, everybody knew him for outdoing all other international relations students and for his insane parties. the boy went all for having fun and making the most of his college experience while working his ass off to be the best he could be. just impossible, people would say. nobody dared to say a bad thing about him, though; hoping to God to be invited to one of his famous events. that had never been a problem for you. since chenle was his childhood friend, you eventually became friendly with each other. 

“you’re coming on saturday?” he asked, expectant eyes looking at each of you, when he landed on your forced grin. “no! you’re coming!” he shook his head negatively. “please? louise is gonna be there, you’re the closest thing to a friend she has.” louise was his situationship and the girl from the same class you’d been hanging out with since she transferred. “please?” 

you tried looking away from the three pair of eyes that expected your answer, already acknowledging no wasn’t possible. it’d been a while since you went out and spent time with lou and some other friends. “alright, alright! i’m going.”

-

jeno’s fingertips were sore from playing his acoustic bass by now, but he didn’t mind. he’d been absentmindedly following the melody of creep by radiohead, his favorite song. it wasn’t like he didn’t notice people were intimidated by him frequently and that had never bothered him, not until it stopped him from being closer to someone he liked. 

he became hyper aware of people taking glances at him and moving awkwardly to the side so he could go on walking. also the stutters when he asked to take part in group projects, which never lasted long after people got to know him, started to annoy him a lot. most of the time they seemed to think he was tough and mean, even though that was far from the truth. 

the boy even considered changing his style, quitting the band or whatever change he could make to seem more likable. however, that was just who he was, so he was trying to shut up those foolish ideas by drowning himself in music once again. 

ARCADERS AKA BEST BAND ever 

haechan: bow down to ur king haechan: SUMMONING THIS BAND where r y’all haechan: fr i need to tell u guys smth haechan: URGENT SOS HELLO R U THERE

jeno: what the fuck is this about 

no sooner did the non-stop dings coming from the phone on the floor broke his trance, than he was checking the band’s group chat.

jaemin: this is good jaemin: he’s not joking

jisung: well where is he now

haechan: glad to know i’m so loved

jisung: uhm embarrassing ..?

haechan: n e ways got us a gig on thursday

jaemin: TELL THEM WHERE IT IS

jeno: hope it’s not wild’s hated playing there 

haechan: i’d tell u to guess but i’m just losing my mind  haechan: it’s ANL 

jisung: WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT 

haechan: yeah invite chenle and our groupie she’s got to be there

chenle, jisung and you were on the way back home when the tallest suddenly stopped on his track, staring at his phone screen for a few minutes, white as a sheet. having no idea what was going on, you tried shaking him and asking what was going on a few times but he just smiled brightly and turned his messages for both of you to read.

“oh my GOD!” you yelled.

“NO WAY, JISUNG! ARCADERS AT ANL.”

“you guys HAVE to be there!” his friends ruffled his hair lovingly.

-

you were alone at the bar, waiting for your fifth drink to be done. the atmosphere tonight was exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time. the band was already backstage getting ready for they’d play soon, but oh were they shaking. they had been waiting for this opportunity for quite some time, it almost didn’t feel real for them. ANL was the biggest pub around and it was well-known for having introduced the best local rock musicians.

the bartender handed the beautiful pink drink to you and your journey to meet your friends in the back started. the place was packed, so walking was difficult. you recognized a few faces on the way and had a few dialogs here and there. many friends of the boys stopped you to ask about them or wish good luck. 

you entered a door and found them inside the small room, haechan being the first to see you. “GROUPIE!” he exclaimed and the boys turned around to see you at the door. jisung sighed in relief and clung onto you.

“i’m so nervous.” the words slipped out of his lips when his face was buried in your hair. 

“you can do this, ji. you’re the best drummer. our rockstar!” you could feel his smile on his cheek, then he let you go to say your hellos.

you scanned the room almost as bright eyed as them, stopping at jeno. he looked so… good, it took everything in you not to look like a fool. the chains on his neck complemented his pretty eye makeup so well, not to mention the leather jacket hugging his strong arms and back. you couldn’t help but notice his lips were glistening and a new black jewelry was there, a labret piercing. of course he noticed you staring, but you only realized that when your eyes found his. this time, neither of you looked away. the intensity flickering in his orbs woke the damn butterflies in your stomach and you had to fight back the urge to kiss him. ‘one more drink and you’d be done for, jeno lee’ you thought.

“oh good, you just got here?” chenle’s voice broke your little staring contest. your friend grinned at you, pointing to the huge backpack on his shoulders. “brought an extra camera so you can help me take some pictures for their insta, alright?”

“am i getting paid?” 

“shut up.” 

the staff came in a few minutes later and gave the two of you a pass that allowed you to stay between the stage and the barricade, for the pictures. suddenly everything felt real as they had less than 20 minutes to get in. the host announced them once more for the almost three hundred people there among friends, some admirers of the band and LOTS of students from the surrounding colleges who didn’t know them. tonight their word would spread around like fire. 

“so, you like the surprise?” chenle asked, looking at you through the camera. 

“i consider that betrayal, for your information” your answer made him throw his head back, laughing like a little kid. “what? a labret piercing isn’t a betrayal?” 

“well, i consider it a present. and seeing the way you were staring…” he nudged you playfully, but the music stopped and the host came back on stage. the highly anticipated concert was about to start, so you just stuck your tongue out to your friend. 

their entrance was big, everyone screamed to hype them up and they started with their own version of all the small things by blink 182. you swear you couldn’t even hear haechan over the audience. you took many pictures of them, sang together and admired their surprised smiles and stage personas in between performances. 

at some point jaemin and jeno came to the front to have a small battle to show their guitar and bass skills, making the room go crazy. right after that, the vocalists screamed jisung’s name and he started to show off. chenle exchanged a proud look with you, all of you feeling an immense happiness. 

so many girls were screaming their names, haechan mouthed the word ‘groupies’ at you, to which he received a middle finger in his direction. 

the setlist had almost come to an end, there was only one song left. feeling on top of the world, haechan played with the public. “ANL, you’re such a good crowd.” they screamed. “unfortunately, we’ve come down to our last song.” a very loud ‘aawwww’ was heard and the boys chuckled among themselves. as the sunkissed singer spoke, the others changed their instruments. jaemin got an acoustic guitar, followed by jeno with his acoustic bass and the staff placed a cajón for jisung in front of the drums. “we prepared a very special song for you, beautiful people. thank you so much for coming tonight!” they cheered once more.

the first chords to wonderwall by oasis were played by jaemin, the other instruments following the softer melody. haechan’s sweet voice compelled the watchers to sing along, pouring their hearts out.

you felt a tap on your shoulder as you registered this breathtaking moment of the band. turning your attention to the person who tapped you, you see chenle wiggling his eyebrows in jeno’s way. turns out his gaze was burning your skin together with the words dripping from his lips so faintly, only someone so close as you would understand he was following the lyrics.

And all the roads we have to walk are winding

And all the lights that lead us there are blinding

There are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don't know how

the bassist didn’t know what had gotten into him, maybe it was the performance thrill. he honestly didn’t try to find an explanation. during their songs, you were the one getting his attention all the time. you were having so much fun, singing out loud, exchanging jokes with your best friend, showing some people the band’s social media… it clicked. he realized he would never have to change to be around you. he felt so silly. and then, a sudden boldness rushed through him to let you know there’s something he must tell you.

#nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct fic #nct dream soft hours #lee jeno fluff #lee jeno x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream imagines #nct imagines #jeno fluff #jeno imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #jeno fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct fanfic #nct x reader #nct dream college au #nct college au #nct timestamps #nct dream timestamps #nct drabbles #nct dream drabbles #jeno drabbles #jeno

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 9 (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

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

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

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

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; jealousy; negative self-talk; talks of miscarriage and hysterical pregnancy; allusions to childhood abuse; talks of pregnancy; extreme feelings of stress and anxiety; feelings of sadness; abandonment issues; therapy; talks of grieving a baby; pregnancy hormones (just the beginning lol); reader checking Jake out and being sad while she does it (lmao) (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 22.1k+

a/n: sorry it took a month, besties... hopefully this angsty fucking chapter makes up for it lmao <3

and don't worry, i won't be gone long ;)

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤

-🌼🌼🌼-

“The covetous person is full of fear; and he or she will who lives in fear will ever be a slave.”

-Horace

-🌼🌼🌼-

October 30, 2022

Birds were chirping. The melodies of an acoustic guitar playing lullabies made your heart warm in your chest. A baby’s cries were being mellowed by the sound of the guitar. A smile, reaching the baby’s face that matched the one on the man playing the strings.

But you couldn’t look at him. Only the bundle of pure, unadulterated, untouched love in your arms; her eyes, looking the same as his, caught yours, the color of caramel coffee. . . twinkling just like his. . .

All pink and white and golden rays of sunshine.

Then, it was gone. 

No. Not again.

There was no more peace. No more lullabies. No more love from parent to child. . .

All dark and dirty and ear-piercing screams. 

A sister, trying to cover your eyes from what was happening, just inches in front of you.

Then there were hands. Hands gripping at your arms, the sister screeching, yelling and clawing for you as she got ripped away. As you got picked up so harshly your head hit something hard, making you dizzy. . . 

When you closed your eyes from the dizziness, you opened them afterwards to see that your sister was back. But she was older this time. 

Elsie. She was stunningly beautiful, as you knew she would grow up to be. Put together in an outfit that resembled that of Rachel Green. Her hair, flowing in strawberry blonde, soft waves around her delicate features and her blue eyes were wide open and wondering. Searching your eyes for something hidden in them. . .

What was she wanting? You couldn’t tell . . . Just as you were about to speak to ask her, she was in front of you, nudging you, not nearly as abrasively as the hands from before. 

You studied her quizzically – why was she–?

“Wake up!”

And the next time you blinked, your eyes were opened wide. 

To reality. To Elsie, shaking your arm in the present. You were an adult, she was an adult. Things were okay.

Life was safe again.

Shit. I’m so tired of that fucking dream, you thought angrily, sitting up and letting the covers fall away from your sweaty, tensed body. 

Blinking furiously, you let yourself cling to the softness— the safety of your bed. The bed hugged you, cocooned you in the fluffy down comforter. You were in your clean, quiet apartment. . . the rays peeking through your bedroom windows the same as they’d been at the beginning of your dream. 

“Sis,” Elsie said your name, out of all of her patience. “Come the fuck on. I’m hungry and I need coffee so bad. You know me. You know I’m about to lose all ability in my limbs if I don’t have caffeine stat–I need it. To survive,” she clutched her chest dramatically. “Please. Get your lazy ass up.”

You rolled your eyes with a giant huff, throwing your covers off of you to try and hit her with them. When you heard her gasp and slap at the covers, you figured you succeeded. 

“Y/n!” She said, backing up from the bed. When you saw her next, her hair was sticking up on all sides from static. Success. But she was laughing, finding it funny nonetheless. “You’re such a bitch.”

“Takes one to know one,” you said, sitting up to stretch a little. You had to fight the urge to put a hand to your tummy. Not in front of Elsie. “Now leave, I have to change.”

“I’ve seen you naked a million times before,” she argued. “Nothing I haven’t seen already.”

There sure as hell is something you haven’t seen on me already. . . Albeit a little small, but rounder nonetheless. 

“Well I don’t want you to look at my naked body this morning, so get the fuck out.”

You were getting irritated. Just wanted to change in peace. Wanted to hold your belly to start the day. It was routine at this point.

She growled, opening your door. “You have five minutes, or I’m leaving your ass.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

As you pulled up to Waffle House, scream-singing Ariana Grande lyrics with Elsie at the top of your lungs, you were sincerely hoping that your stomach wouldn’t roll at the smell of the greasy breakfast food. 

The nostalgia of the morning was something you wanted to wrap up tight and not let flutter away in the crisp and cool October breeze.

Please, sweet baby, you pleaded. Love Waffle House with me. Don’t make me give this up.

You wanted this with Els. This particular establishment had been cathartic to you and your sister for several years. Talks that far surpassed therapy sessions occurred here, in the back booth, almost completely surrounded by windows. . . The thought of sitting in that back booth was enough to make you cry right on the spot. 

And the All Star Special sounded so fucking delicious. Good sign that it at least still sounded good, right? 

You just wanted scrambled eggs, ham, hash browns with ketchup, and a gigantic waffle with the restaurant name pressed in the middle. It was all you wanted at that moment. Truly. Nothing more, nothing less. . . Your mouth was watering.

Cheesy and strange as it was, you were quite literally crossing your fingers that the food wouldn’t make you projectile vomit as Elsie opened the door for you two. 

Please don’t make me sick, please don’t make me sick. . .

To your extreme relief, your tummy didn’t knot and squeeze. No bile came to the base of your throat. . . In fact, the vanilla waffle mixture, the sizzling, salty smell of the bacon and ham. . . it was better than before. Your heightened senses welcomed the scrumptious, sentimental scents that came with the establishment. 

And the back booth was open! 

Tears literally pricked your eyes at the sight. And you must’ve sniffled because Elsie spun around, where you waited to be seated, and checked on you with worried eyes.

“You okay?” She pondered, her tone light with a joke, but eyes still serious. 

Not able to fully collect yourself thanks to the fantastic hormonal effects of your pregnancy, you felt a tear hit your cheek when you sniffled once more. 

“Yeah,” goddamn, even your voice sounded fucking wet with emotion. “Just happy to be here with you.”

Tell her, y/n. Let her help you. . .Tell her.

Fuck that came out of nowhere. 

The soft, reassuring voice being the one to guide you would take a lot of getting used to if it was going to continue as the one to help you, rather than the harsh, critical one that’d taunted you since you were a child.

Honestly, when the calm voice came to you, your mind settled in the waves of reassurance. This was the voice you longed to hear anytime the dark one wanted to boss you around. . .wanted to push you down when you were up. 

It always spoke soft truths to you. This voice didn’t make you feel like utter shit; this was the one that sounded more like Elsie than you’d like to admit.

As you started walking to your beloved booth, you were trying to find a solid reason to not tell Elsie right now. . . You had to tell someone. Right? And it was killing you to be around her and keep her in the dark. She was safe. And, at that moment, the only person you really wanted to tell was your big sister. No matter how bossy she may get, it was worth it to have her know. She was your one and only safety net for years for good reason. 

And she was going to be leaving again tonight until Thanksgiving. There was no way you could wait to tell her until then. 

She’d also never forgive you if you kept it from her for too long. You couldn’t blame her. If roles were reversed, you’d kill her if she waited to tell you until she had a noticeably round belly. . .

You sat down at your booth. You, at the seat with your back to the big windows, her smile wide as she made small talk with the worn-out waitress. Elsie’s smile, though, was big enough it brought a smile to the tired woman’s face. Elsie got along with everybody, and the waitress was no different. 

God, she was sunshine for you. 

As the woman placed your menus down in front of you two, you immediately flipped it to the side with the All Star Special. You watched her kind face, aged from years of hard work, and found comfort in the thickness of her voice from even more years of smoke, as she asked for your drink orders. 

Elsie ordered her blessed coffee and you sat there, contemplating. . . stuck. Normally, you’d order a Mr. Pibb. . .but was that healthy for the baby?

Your sister stared at you, her brows wrinkled as she gave you a questioning smile. 

“Just get her a Mr. Pi–,” Elsie started.

“I’ll take an orange juice,” you finished. 

The sweet waitress left to get your orders ready, and when you looked up from your menu to Elsie’s face again, she was looking at you like you’d grown three heads.

 “Orange juice?!” She asked, as if you’d just insulted her on a great scale. “Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”

You felt nervous under her stare and questions. You were going to tell her anyway. . . why were you feeling your skin prick with nerves? 

“Just felt like getting an orange juice. . .,” you said, shrugging your shoulders to play it off. “No biggie.”

“I cannot remember one time we’ve come here– in the years we’ve come here– where you’ve gotten anything besides a Mr. Pibb.” She leaned across the table to put the back of her hand to your forehead. She then jokingly asked, “Are you well?”

You watched her laugh at her own joke, her eyes, smiling. The same ones you’d looked into when, for years, you’d told her your deepest secrets. . . A couple of things came to your mind. When you lost your virginity and felt like shit about it (for God knows what reason); she’d raised your spirits by telling you she’d felt the same at first, but it got better with time. Then there’d been when you’d smoked weed for the first time and you felt so horribly about it (again, why?); she told you it was not a bad thing to do and that you deserved to feel so free as the drug would make you feel. 

Very rarely had she been extremely judgemental. 

Right now, she was giving you yet another look of concern, though. . .So, you decided. It was time. Now or never.

“Sis, what’s–?”

“I’m pregnant.”

There it was. First time you’d said it out loud. Damn. In that moment, it felt even more real to you, too. 

You were with child. There was a baby in you. There was life growing inside of your uterus. 

Then the opposite train of thought rushed through you. . .were you pregnant? Was the baby still in there? You hadn’t really had time to obsessive-compulsively research any of that yet. Could your tummy still grow if you had a miscarriage? Was that possible? Was there a baby inside of you?

You had to shake your head from your sudden wave of unwelcome, anxious thoughts. There was no reason to believe you’d lost the baby. . . right? Surely. . . You wouldn’t let your anxiety get the best of you. Blinking a few times, you chanced a look at your sister again.

She gaped at you, staying that way until the waitress came back with your drinks, not saying a word. Didn’t even look away from you when the waitress spoke, asking for your orders. You had to tell the woman it would be a minute, while Elsie still zoned out on you. 

Her eyes just bored into yours until you started feeling uncomfortable and irritable. 

Talk, Elsie. Fuck.

You clasped your hands together under the table, over your tummy. . .had to do something with them. And after continuing to wait a couple more minutes, you decided if she wasn’t going to say anything, you would. “Can you say some–?”

“What the fuck?” She asked, voice much louder than it should be for a quiet Sunday morning at Waffle House. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the heads of patrons turn towards you. Inquiring eyes were not what you needed at the moment.

Your cheeks heated as you grit your teeth. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Elsie?” You fumed, automatically defensive for the life inside of you. “I had sex. I got pregnant. Simple as that.”

You’d never felt this sense of protection for anyone in your life. Not even your sister. No, at that moment, you were ready to go to bat for your baby against the woman who’d been your first line of defense your entire life. 

Thankfully the next time she talked, she sounded more subdued and understanding.

“I– I didn’t mean for it to come off that way, babe,” she said, shaking her head, laying a hand against her forehead. Her eyes searched for yours to believe her. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t the right response.”

“It’s oka–.”

“This is a sensitive time for you–for any woman–my god,” she continued, not letting you make any excuse. “I was just in shock–still am, obviously–but I’m not upset,” she said, pausing. Then she narrowed her eyes, testing you. “How far along are you though?”

You giggled, remembering your earlier thoughts. The two of you were so alike. More like twins than anything, honestly. “I’m only like ten weeks, I think,” you smoothly said. “I found out two weeks ago, but I wasn’t sure if I was going to keep it or not, and I didn’t want to tell anyone until I decided. It was my decision and I didn’t want anything or anyone to sway me.”

“That is all valid and correct,” she agreed, nodding her head. Then, she continued asking questions as she poured too much half and half in her coffee. “How do you feel about it? Good? Bad? Sad? Happy? Overjoyed? Utterly depressed?”

Your eyes bugged, and you waved your hands at her once she was drinking from her mug, watching you and waiting for a response. “Damn, slow down,” you began, entwining your hands again, on top of the table this time. “First of all, per usual, I don’t always know how I’m feeling. . . But–it’s strange,” you started, squinting out the window just next to her. “It’s like, this time, instead of bouncing back and forth between sad and mad and confused. . .I’m more bouncing between a variety of happy emotions for this life,” you untangled your hands to once again place them on your tummy, below the table. “The confusion is still there, but for this baby. . .the emotions are mostly positive ones full of hope and love,” you looked back at her. “It’s weird.”

She was squinting at you, nodding her head as she took everything in. 

Then the waitress was back, taking your orders. And just as soon, she was gone.

Elsie spoke before you could. “What changed?”

Snorting, you gave her a look. “Really, Els?”

Yet again, she narrowed her eyes, but this time it was out of annoyance. “You know what I mean.”

You did. She wanted to get to the heart of it. Not the situation. But what had changed inside of you to instigate your new, surprising view of things? You really weren’t sure . . . To be completely honest, this new feeling had just started yesterday. Less than 24 hours ago, you’d made the decision that would change your life forever.

But, you answered the best you could in spite of it all. 

“I don’t know,” you glanced down at your hands, holding your sweater-clad tummy. You hadn’t had to delve into oversized sweaters the past couple of weeks. Not quite yet. Your tummy wasn’t that round. “I just kind of started thinking on behalf of this life I made, and not really myself. I put him, her–whatever the fuck it is– first and doing that just gave me this new outlook. Like I didn’t have all of the time in the world to criticize myself anymore. Because I have someone else to look out for. Someone special–someone whose life I have to be careful with– a life I hold in my hands.”

She giggled. “Literally,” she motioned in the direction of your hand placement. You joined in on her little moment of humor, enjoying the feeling of normalcy with her. She knew, and things were still the same as always. You didn’t feel any weirdness emanating off of her. This moment was easing you and brought you a sense of undefinable calm. Something you’d needed so badly. She kept on, having more to say. “I’m so fucking glad you’re starting to feel lighter,” she stated, reaching a hand out towards you, palm up on the table. “You’ve always carried so much on your shoulders. Always. And it has sucked to watch helplessly. You have hurt for too damn long and you deserve more than anyone to feel this new happiness.” 

The tear that suddenly gathered at the corner of your eye and trickled down your cheek was unstoppable.  

You moved a hand to place in hers and you squeezed each other. “Thanks Els,” you wetly responded. And nothing more– just needed her to know you were thankful.

After a minute of just communicating with your eyes, your food was being brought in small increments. Her biscuits and gravy were placed at the same time as your plate of eggs, hash browns, and ham. 

“Your waffle will be out shortly, honey,” the waitress smokily said, tone sweet as could be. “You two enjoy.”

After you’d both responded with a nod and she was gone, there was no stopping you two from digging in. 

After swallowing her first bite of food with a moan, she looked at you, still chewing your hash browns, which now tasted more like the sugary, tomatoey ketchup you’d smothered them with. 

“God, I was starving,” she said, taking a little sip of her half and half with a dash of coffee. She squeaked a little as she set her coffee down, a smirk on her glossed lips. “Josh would not quit last night.” 

You made a gagging motion at the implication, your brow furrowed with disgust at her words. 

Then, you took your first sip of orange juice. 

Goddamn.

Fuck! Ew. Baby does not like orange juice.

Coughing a little, your throat felt ready to reject the liquid right as it hit your uvula. Gross as it was, you put as much as you could back into the glass, not caring for Elsie’s reaction. 

“That’s not nasty at all,” she sarcastically noted, still chewing her food. 

You kept coughing into your hand, swallowing as much as you could, focusing on getting it down, not wanting to projectile vomit all over your breakfast. 

I’ll show you nasty, Elsie. Don’t test me.

You rolled your eyes at her remark, finally getting the remains of the drink down. You held your napkin to your face, coughing a bit. “Says the woman who’s talking and chewing,” you said, your voice weak to avoid any bile rising in your throat and at the sour, putrid taste still sitting on your tongue. “And you’re one to talk–telling me way more than I need to know about Josh.”

She snickered. “I’ll tell you more. Just say the word.”

Laughing once outright, you rolled your eyes. “Yeah, that won’t ever be happening,” you tried taking a bite of hash browns to get the taste of orange juice off your tongue. But it only made it worse. Your throat was not ready to accept any more at the moment. Spitting the mushy remains in your napkin, folding it up so as not to offend other customers. Your throat was tight as you responded. “I need water.”

“Here we go, babydoll! Waffles just for you,” the waitress returned, placing the food right in front of you. The waffle did not look appetizing in the slightest. You didn’t bother looking up to say anything, instead squeezing your eyes shut and willing the nausea away. “You okay, sweetie? D’ya need anything?”

“Can we get a water and a Sprite?” Elsie intervened, calmly requesting. “And like, ASAP, if that’s doable. . .”

“Sure thing! Back in a flash!” 

You kept your eyes closed, the twirling in your stomach not going away, but not intensifying either. You were scared to talk–afraid of what might come from your mouth if you did. 

“Here,” the sweet, older lady’s voice rang through, as you heard the plastic cups hit the table. She was rushing, her voice moving fast. “Gotta go to another table, but wave me down if ya need me, sugar.”

“I think we’re good for now,” Elsie reassured. You could hear the smile in her tone. “Thank you so much.” A few seconds passed, then your sister was tapping your hand that was still laid on the table. “Sis, please take a drink from one of them.”

Keeping one hand pressed to your mouth, you tapped the wrapper off of the straw. You chose the carbonated Sprite, banking on the carbonation and natural aid of Sprite for a sensitive stomach.

As soon as the ice cold, fizzing drink hit your tongue, you felt relief. The feeling hadn’t gone away in your tummy, but you also didn’t feel like you were going to hurl at any moment anymore either. You took a few short, yet healthy, sips, eyes closing again to center yourself. 

Your eyes trailed back to hers after you sat the cup down.

“You okay?” Elsie questioned, following you with her blue eyes, which swam with concern. You nodded, then she talked again. “Do you get sick a lot?”

Reaching for the water, you took one little drink of that, finally feeling able to talk. Your stomach was simmering slowly. You pushed the plates away, needing the food away from you for the time being.

“Not hungry?” 

You shook your head, your brows furrowed. “Not now. Fuckin’ orange juice,” you flipped off the offensively orange drink. Elsie snorted at you, and you grinned at her. “And to answer you, yes. I puke all of the time. Thought it was stress at first. Just throwing up because of all of my stress.”

She rolled her eyes, pushing her own food away. “You’re an idiot.” You scoffed at that, offended. “I’m just saying. You’ve never been a puker. Fevers and shit, yes. But never thrown up a whole lot. And you’ve had some terrible fucking stress in your life. . . never vomiting from any of it; just to remind you.”

“I guess I just wanted to stay ignorant,” you admitted. “And I didn’t think it was possible at all that I was pregnant.”

She hummed in understanding, then she leveled you with a stare as she took a drink of her coffee. 

“What now?” You groaned. “You fuckin’ weas–.”

“Does Jake know?”

Your stomach fell all the way to the bottom your feet. Fuck. What? How did she know?

Stupidly, you tried to reject it. Why would you try to hide it from her? You didn’t know. There was no point in trying to hide it. 

“Why would he need to know? This doesn’t concern him. He’s not the fath—.”

She practically honked with a huge laugh, blossoming from the back of her throat. You blushed, sinking back into your seat. Why would you even try to play dumb? You knew better than to do that with her. 

After wiping a little tear from below her eye, she sipped at her water. Sitting her glass down, she coughed a couple times and snorted with another giggle before continuing. “Please do not insult my intelligence like that.”

Weakly, you tried to defend yourself. “You believed me at the festival that we weren’t fucking anymore, so I just assumed–.”

“You think I believed that shit?!” She gawked at you– in disbelief that you’d thought that of her. “I just wasn’t going to push it out of you while you were so obviously in the depths of sorrow over that girl that was with him.”

Face flushing yet again, you chewed on the inside of your cheek. “‘Depths of sorrow’ is dramatic.” And true, you silently agreed with her. So incredibly, stupidly true.

“And you’re pregnant with Jake’s kid,” she pushed, wanting to hear you say it yourself.

You looked up at her through your lashes, not ready to say it out loud. But definitely needing to. . . and who better than your sister to say it out loud to for the very first time?

“Jake is the baby’s father, yes,” you said plainly, looking directly in her eyes as you said it. Then, immediately peering out the window, directly to your right. “Half him, half me,” you murmured, under your breath.

You pressed your shoulder, clad in your fluffy sweater, against the chilled glass. You still felt the coldness from the brisk autumn day through the thick windows. It calmed your heart which beat frantically against your breastbone. Talking out loud about Jake being the father of your child made reality slap you in the face. You were carrying Jake’s baby. Inside your womb was half of Jake and half of you. Together. Something you’d made. . . together. 

The thought of a part of him just floating around in your uterus was honestly jarring. . . but not unwelcome. Not unwelcome at all. No, in fact because the baby was half of him, you’d decided you had to keep it. Jake was the reason that the baby was a necessity to this world. A piece of the first man you’d ever. . . 

You shook your head amidst the raging thoughts, deciding to cut them off right. there. That was a path you did not want to venture down. 

Dangerous territory.

Knowing the baby was his and that fact being was the sole reason you had to keep it. . .that was big enough for you to acknowledge. Huge, actually. . . You couldn’t believe you’d let yourself face that so surely and honestly. But. . . that was something you refused to tell your sister. That was one thing for you and only you to know. It felt too personal to share–belonged in your heart alone.

The mother and child you were observing just outside Waffle House were about to get you lost in thought again . . . You could spend hours appreciating a true, authentic love between a mother and her child. You’d never had it, and it was just so unique in and of itself. A relationship that held its own definition of love. A love so lovely, precious, safe. . . wholesome.

You were desperate to create that for a child. Something you hadn’t had the privilege of experiencing. And the baby in your womb deserved to feel it. . . But could you do it? Or were you too much like your mom?

Before you could fall down that depressing rabbit hole, you slowly swiveled your head back in the direction of your sister. 

Then, without much contemplation, you unloaded. Told her everything. Informed her of the situation between you and Jake, how you started feeling iffy about all of it towards the end, and then how you’d decided to cut it off due to your desire to protect him. It rushed out of your mouth, with almost no thought and you honestly didn’t have time to consider anything before it slipped from your lips and into the air between the two of you. 

Elsie was watching you, eyes attentively following your every word and movement. She looked ready to help. As always. Her eyes, the color of the ocean and just as deep and sure as the waves that enveloped it. The overwhelming calm you felt after telling her, also similar to the ocean in its ability to offer peace. . . 

What she said first was not what you were expecting. No counsel. Just humility. 

“I’m sorry for what I said about you watching that girl with Jake at the festival,” she started, tucking her hands in her lap, expression sincere. “That was callous. Not the time.”

Wrinkling your brow, you argued back, unnecessarily defensive and overwrought with emotion after spilling all of that and for the life in your belly (lovely hormones). “I’m still me, Elsie,” you huffed, rolling your eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

She raised a brow, combatting you. “Fine. If you’re still you, then I can say this: get the fuck over yourself and just be with him,” taking a drink of her coffee, she made a face. “Room temperature coffee is absolute balls,” she looked over her shoulder, trying to connect eyes with the waitress. 

You saw the woman head your way, and immediately got the hint when Elsie held the cup out with puppy dog eyes. “You’ve got it, sweet baby.”

“Thank you,” Elsie said, her voice that of a grateful servant to the woman. 

“You, with your food and drinks that must be so hot they burn your mout–.”

“We’re not done with you. So, shut up.”

“Jesus, Elsie! I–.”

Holding a perfectly manicured hand up, black nails flashing in front of you briefly, she cut you off. “No! I don’t want to hear any more of the bullshit. You’re literally having his baby. Get over this. . . thing in your head, and just be with him. You obviously want it. And I think he does, too.”

You sighed, the breath coming fully from your lungs. It wasn’t like you didn’t want it, too. . . it was just complicated. “It’s not that easy, Elsie,” you lamented. “There are several pieces to the puzzle.”

“Liiiiike . . .?” 

“Well, for one,” you held up a finger to start the count. “He has a girlfriend now.”

“No he doesn’t,” she scrunched her face, completely disagreeing. “He’s not with any–.”

“They showed up to the party together, Elsie. The girl from the festival. And they have a past. He was groping her all night last night and she never left his side,” you repeated the events aloud, your stomach rolling at the heinous thoughts. 

“Oh, shit,” her eyes got big, blowing out a slow breath. “I didn’t even realize. Josh and I–.”

“Were roaming the room for half of the night and preoccupied for the rest of it,” you said, shivering at the deplorable thought of your friend and sister. 

“I was with you for a good chunk of it, too, bitch,” she corrected, pointing at you. 

You stuck out your lip, nodding to agree. “You’re right. . .but you were also way too distracted by Josh to notice.”

She made the same face, mirroring you. “You are not wrong,” she grinned smartly, winking suggestively. “No regrets.”

“I’m going to puke on you.”

“Oh my god, please don’t,” she gagged. And then started singing a thank you as the waitress came back with your tickets and a fresh coffee. After dumping one million half and half cups into her mug, she took a hearty sip. When she sat it down, she practically vibrated in delight. “Oh hell yeah.”

“You know Josh hates coffee,” you noted. “Prefers tea.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, I know. We’ve had many long debates over the ridiculous fact,” she growled. “He’s a miscreant when he wants to be.”

You laughed outright. “Yes he is. Little fuckin’ gremlin.” 

The sound that roared out of her was more reminiscent of a yell than a laugh, but it became a string of snorting and giggles that you joined in on. After a few minutes of enjoying the sound of the other’s laughter, you shook your head and scratched your brow before seeing your phone light up with a notification. 

Stupidly, your tummy fluttered at the possibility of it being Jake texting you. But then you remembered that he would absolutely not be texting you in his right mind. . . that was not where you were with him right now. You weren’t sure you’d ever be there with him again. And that thought made your tummy sink as soon as it’d fluttered. 

Though, the notification on your screen was enough to bring a little grin to your face, your eyes watering with the overwhelming excitement and joy that ignited in your heart at the update from your Ovia Pregnancy app. 

Week 10: Congratulations, y/n! You’re heading into the tail end of your first trimester. Your baby is now the size of a kumquat and almost 1 ¼ inches long!

Not being able to help it, you turned your phone to Elsie so she could see the notification as well. 

She read through it, her mouth moving as she took in the words. A wide, toothy smile made its way to her face–her entire demeanor lighting up with you. Clutching both hands to her chest, her eyes were wet next time you saw them. Your own eyes filled with more tears at her reaction to it. 

“I’m so proud to be an aunt to your little kumquat baby!” She said, her voice actually quivering with emotion. 

“I’m glad you’re proud,” you responded with a sniffle, drying your undereyes with a Waffle House napkin. “I’m proud, too.”

Her smile turned close-mouthed, yet no less sincere and delighted. “You should be,” she paused, then her crying eyes dried a bit as her tone turned serious. “And Jake will be, too. I know it, babe,” she stopped, pondering a thought. “You are going to tell him, right?”

You didn’t have to think about your answer. He had to know. You wanted him too, really. “Yes.” Then, your tummy flipped. “ But I don’t know if he’ll be super excited when I do,” you shook your head. “This was not in the cards for him this year. . . I wouldn’t blame him if he rejected the idea of me being pregnant with his baby.”

“Well, he wouldn’t reject it. I can say that for certain–I’m dating his twin and I know Josh would never reject a baby,” she said, wiping at her face with her own napkin. “And, I’m going to argue the other part, too. . . it obviously was in the cards for him,” she reached a hand out towards you and you took it. “This happened for a reason, sis. A good one. And Jake will view it as such.”

“I just don’t want it to slow him down,” you squeezed her hand, looking down to where they entwined on the gray table. “I need him to keep going and chase his dream.”

She raised a brow, shook her head from side to side, once again disbelieving. “He will, y/n. He’ll keep going. Josh is– and he and I are dating?. . . What’s the difference?”

“Where do I start? Most importantly, I’m messed up in the head and I need to work on myself before I expose him to myself,” you insisted, bringing your hand back to place on your tummy. “And he and Josh are different. . .Josh has a drive that Jake doesn’t. Jake gave up his dream before and he’ll do it again if he’s allowed. And a baby is already damn near the most drastically life changing thing that could happen to a person. Could completely screw up his plans,” you sighed resolutely. It was clear to her that you were firm on this, so she sat back with open and considerate eyes to let you finish. “Best to keep things separate between us so he has one less thing that is tempting him to put himself last. A baby is enough.”

She hummed, taking it all in. After taking a moment, she gave a response. “I just have one question.”

“Yes?” You prepared yourself, raising a brow.

“What’s the difference between you and the girl?-- What’s her name anyway?”

“Maya,” ugh. Hate that name. “Her name is Maya. And she is normal where I am not.”

“O-kaaaay,” she replied, still unsure of the validity in your response. You didn’t know why she seemed so unsure. She knew you better than you knew yourself. She knew you were jacked up. She let out a massive sigh, then continued. “Well, I don’t personally think you know her well enough to make that assumption. She could be more detrimental to him than you–.”

“Not possib–.”

“And you could be exactly what he needs,” she said, almost in finality, though it was obvious she wasn’t done when she leaned forward, her tone hard and steadfast. “You’re also not as “jacked up” as you seem to believe you are. Have you got things to heal? Yes. But are you still one of the most incredible people that has ever walked this planet–if not the most incredible? Even more so, yes,” her eyes watered again, but she sniffed the tears away to say her last piece. “I think you could very well be exactly what Jake Kiszka needs to be complete. And even though I wasn’t around for all of the intricacies of you two, I should’ve caught on. Because I do know the way that man fucking looks at you. . . and dammit if I’ve ever seen another man look at a woman the way he looks at you. . . not even Josh with me or Grandpa with Grandma.”

Your heart swelled and your cheeks grew instantly red. Your blood buzzed in your veins. . . did he really look at you like that? 

Then, selfishly, you wondered if anyone else had noticed like Elsie had. . . like Josh. Fuck. Did he see how Jake looked at you? Had he already presumed things about you and Jake based on how his twin apparently, blatantly, ogled you? And then you realized, yet again, how you would have to obviously tell Josh of the baby. . . oh god; how would he react?

“I wish he wouldn’t,” you muttered. “I don’t need anyone to–.”

“To know?” She squeaked a giggle. “I’m sorry, babe. . . but I think your cover’s about to be totally blown within the next nine months.”

You groaned, placing your forehead in your hand as you blew your hair away from your face. “How will Josh react?” You moaned, halfway to yourself and halfway to her. 

“What?” 

You snapped up. “How in the hell is Josh going to react?!” You anxiously quizzed her, eyes wild. “He is already going to be hurt that I kept it from him. And then there’s the reason I kept it from him in the first place. . .,” you felt tears well in your throat right before you nearly slammed your head on your crossed arms, which laid against the table, dramatically. 

Okay, these hormones can fuck right off. 

“Why’s that, sissy?” She carefully inquired, tone soft, not judging your reaction the way you internally were. “Remind me again.”

You moaned, raising your head and willing the tears away. “He made it so incredibly clear to me how Jake didn’t need another woman infiltrating his life and distracting him. And how Jake needed this time to discover himself for the first time in his life. . . and I’ve completely ignored that desire of his,” a lone tear slipped from your ducts. “I’ve betrayed him. Selfishly.”

Letting the words sit in the air between you, she waited a couple of beats before inserting her two cents. “When does Jake finally get what he wants?”

You wrinkled a brow, tears completely dissipating out of curiosity for her next words.

“I mean. . .” she started, making a thoughtful smacking sound with her mouth. “Josh thinks he can call the shots. You think you can just decide to not let yourself ruin his life? Like, what the hell, first of all? And second of all. . . what if he doesn’t care about any of that shit and just wants you? Did you ever take a second to consider that?”

“Yes, Elsie,” you growled, defensive once again. “And that’s why I’m keeping the ball in my court. I’m protecting him. And that was Josh’s intent, too.”

“I don’t know where you two get off acting like Jake isn’t a grown ass man who can make his own decisions. . .,” she trailed off, flashing an irritated look out the window. 

You did not want to get into this right now. The conversation was trailing much further than you fucking wanted. Your nerves were practically electrifying you and your head felt heavy.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Elsie,” you shortly bit out at her. She snapped her head back at you, her eyes still on fire. You stayed firm. “I’m done talking about all of that shit,” your hands laid safely on your lower, swelling tummy. “I have bigger things to consider now,” after glancing down at your stomach, you hit her with another stern glare. “So drop it.”

Her chest was heaving. 

You were not sure what was happening; why was she suddenly so “Team Jake”? When had that happened? And again, why? 

“Fine,” she conceded, sniffing resolutely once and then went to sip her coffee. Which, by the look on her face, was cold again. “Yuck. Can we bust this joint and go to Starbs? I need the sweet stuff.”

You sighed with relief at the change in subject. “Yes,” you smiled. “Let’s.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

It was just you and your sister in the open apartment, which was now completely cleaned from last night’s festivities due to your obsessive-compulsive cleaning. Though, you couldn’t help but notice when you’d come back from breakfast, Jake had been gone and the apartment looked much better than when you’d left with Elsie. It felt nice that he cared for the apartment, too–enough to try to keep it clean. 

You trained your thoughts on Elsie, as she waited at the door to leave, bags completely packed, awaiting her Uber to the airport (you were, unfortunately, so suddenly fucking tired that you had decided you weren’t fit to drive her). 

You didn’t want to let her go. She was your one person who knew now, and no matter how much she challenged your stance on Jake, she was still your sister and your person and you needed her with you during this time. . .

“Can you not just stay for a couple more days?” You tried once more, knowing better than to ask, as she’d repeated the words more than once now. “Let them know your sister is having an existential crisis and needs you?”

She huffed with a grin, rolling her eyes. “You are literally fine,” she reassured, reaching a hand out to hold your arm. But instead of letting it stop there, you fell into it and let yourself fall into her–let yourself wrap both of your arms around her shoulders, hugging yourself tightly to her. 

“Please don’t leave,” you moaned, your voice so meek it was straight up depressing. “I need you.”

She hugged you back, dropped her duffel off her shoulder in the process of embracing you. “I always need you, sissy,” she agreed. “But I’m just a FaceTime or text away,” she assured you, combing her hands through your wet hair, having taken a shower while she’d been gone saying her goodbyes to Josh. “I’m here. And you have people here. You just need to let. them. in.”

“I know. . .,” you sighed hotly into her natural curls. “I’m just so scared to tell Jo–.”

“I’m tired of hearing that, babe,” she asserted firmly. “Because the last person you need to be scared to tell is Joshua,” she stated, leaving no room for argument, right in your ear. “And if you think about it, you know him well enough to fucking know that. So get out of your maze of thoughts and know the truth.”

She was right. . . Truly, you knew she was. You knew his heart. But. . . “How will I even. . .?” 

Pulling away from you, she kept her hands wrapped around your forearms, keeping a caring hold on you. Keeping you near. “I’ve actually been thinking about this, like, all day. . . but the first thing that came to my mind is what I keep going back to.”

You waited for more, but she didn’t continue her thought. Impatient, you asked. “Which is. . .?”

“Invite him to a doctor’s appointment. Maybe your. . .first?” she offered, questioning the last part. But sounded completely sure of her idea. “It’s the perfect way to break it to him. And. . .if I’m correct, I’m assuming you haven’t had one yet since you just decided to keep it?”

“Yeah. . . no appointment yet. So, I could. . .ugh,” you answered. “But– why? How–? Will he–?”

“It’s the ideal situation because he will feel like he’s being helpful and loving. He’ll be able to be there for you. He’ll feel needed and involved and that is literally all Josh wants in general in life, so. . .”

“It’s perfect,” you weakly agreed. It really was. You couldn’t deny it.

“Yes, it is,” she flipped her hair over her shoulder and lifted her duffel bag back over her shoulder. “I came up with it.”

You scoffed. “Okay, now. Don’t get a big fuckin’ head, loser.”

“Bitch,” she bit back, shoving your shoulder. 

Rubbing your shoulder in faux pain, you gave her a pitiful expression. “Elsie. I am with child, you need to be careful with me now.”

Bursting with a chuckle, straight from her chest, she shoved your other shoulder. “I’m not touching the damn stomach, so I’m good.” 

You shoved her back, dropping the act and giggling with her. “You right, you right,” you said. Then, your thoughts came back to the task at hand. The baby that was squirming around in you. “I’m still scared.”

“That’s another perfect aspect of telling him in that scenario though,” she added, assuring you with her opinion. “You can’t back out. You’ll have to tell him if he meets you at the doctor’s office or takes you there or whatever the hell he does. . . you’ll have no choice but to tell him before you go in. And he’ll just have to take it,” she said, her plan sounding, admittedly, concrete. “He will survive,” she dropped her hands from your arms and looped her belt bag around her chest before placing a hand delicately to your cheek. “I promise he’ll survive.”

Just then, her phone dinged, indicating her Uber had arrived. So, with many “I love you’s” and a few curse words, you were following her down the stairs, then hugging her tightly once more outside of her awaiting Uber. 

And as you watched her leave the parking lot, the tears started to flow. So. many. tears. Steady, hard, relentless weeping. . . 

The emotions were obviously true, yes, but the hormones–and your current, lonely headspace– were amplifying the already-existing emotions of her leaving to an incredibly irritating degree.

But before you could lose yourself in them any more, you heard a door to a car shut to your left, along with a laugh you knew all too well. Jake was home. 

And if you didn’t move, he was going to see you as a hysterical mess and you did not want his fucking pity right now. Last thing you needed. And worse, you also didn’t want to see his expression, for the chance it might be hard and uncaring. You also didn’t want to possibly see a certain woman arrive with him. 

You were sure she was with him. The feminine giggle you heard accompanying his endearing chuckles could be no one else.

So, instead of looking in his direction, you turned quickly on your heel and speed-walked up the stairs, a hand on your tummy to avoid any hurt to the kumquat baby. 

As soon as your back hit the closed door, you breathed a sigh, which turned into a long yawn. The kind that made you shiver with a sudden, urgent desire to sleep. You didn’t have to work today, you’d canceled study plans. . . So suddenly, you felt abundantly free and a nap sounded like the perfect remedy to the overwhelming emotions of your day.

-🌼🌼🌼- 

Monday came and went before you even knew it was happening. As did Tuesday. As did Wednesday. And when Thursday came around, you had your Modern Poetry elective. The one class you had with someone you knew relatively well. 

You hadn’t made it a priority to make tons of friends while in school to get your degree–you’d had Josh and Elsie, and eventually Sammy and Danny. . .and that had been enough. 

But, when Theo had popped back up into your life, anytime you saw him in a class, it really did feel nice to be around someone familiar at school. Even though he was on the more annoying side, he was still a good confidant.

And especially with the massive course load this semester, having someone you knew around was helpful. Good for feeling less alone. He was somebody who was going through school with you; he got the overwhelming amount of pressure from school, too. He felt the senioritis, too. . . but, his case was slightly different. 

He was ready to be done with school so he could pursue this career he longed to have in writing, while you were just ready to be done. 

Initially, when you had started the semester, you were just ready to be out of Pratt because you felt like you were wasting your time on a degree you’d lost passion for (save for your minor in media studies which gave you the occasional music-related course).

Now you weren’t sure why you were ready to be done. What made you feel more anxious to put Pratt in the past now? Was it the burning desire to be done with a passionless major? Or did the life in your tummy have something to do with it? The thought of the baby you held inside honestly got your blood pumping more excitedly in your veins than a college degree ever could. 

You really only cared about ascertaining a healthy baby– no longer caring much for a piece of paper saying you had studied writing, uselessly, for four long years. 

But you had to make it through school. If not for you, for your baby. You didn’t have much longer left, and you owed it to that child to see this through. You had to find some drive though. So, in came Theo to help with that. He was great at encouraging others, and that was exactly what you needed while trudging through the sixteen hours of classes you’d enrolled in this semester. 

When you were getting up to leave for class that afternoon, you had your mind set on a big jar of baby pickles (stereotypical pregnant woman, much?). You were ready to get off campus and to the nearest grocery store for the deliciously tangy food. 

Before you could leave your two-person table, though, a hand came out to grab your arm as a way of stopping you. If you had acted on impulse, you would have whined and stomped your foot in protest at being kept from satisfying your pickle craving. 

But you didn’t act like a petulant child. Instead, you turned around, eyes opened and ready for whatever was needed from you. 

And when you looked behind your shoulder, Theo was there, a head or so above you, smiling and waiting for a response. 

“Yes?” You asked, semi-irritatedly, semi-sweetly. “What’s up?”

He just stared a little while longer, blinking rapidly before shaking his head. His blonde hair had grown out a bit and shook with the movement, eyes twinkling just enough, making your heart thump a little harder in your chest. 

Why in the hell? 

“I meant to ask you Tuesday, but you were gone before I could,” he started, adjusting his messenger bag over his shoulder. He shifted on his feet a little before peering curiously into your eyes. “Are you okay? I missed seeing you for our usual Sunday study time. . .”

You swallowed, slightly grumpy that he felt the need to pry. 

He’s just showing he cares, y/n, the angelic voice said, which now stopped by more occasionally than the negative one. 

Not wanting to tell him anything too personal (God, no), you went with the bare minimum. “A friend hosted a Halloween party at my place on Saturday, and my sister was actually in town for it,” you divulged, wrapping your fists tighter around the straps of your backpack. Please let me leave after this. “So I hung out with her yesterday while she was still in town.”

Not the whole truth, but not so much dishonesty to  me feel bad.

“Oh!” He said, a light hearted laugh accompanying his tone. “Cool. I remember from high school how close you two were.”

I remember how much she didn’t like you, you thought, feeling uneasy at past-Elsie’s opinion of the guy.

Was he really that bad though? He’d been great for you during high school. Even though it had only been a year of time with him, he had still been a decent person to have around during those formative years of your life. He had been considerate, kind, helpful. . . the only negative things you could remember were the few times he’d try to get you to calm down on unnecessary occasions. He could be occasionally judgmental, but wasn’t everyone to an extent?

And maybe you and Elsie had only been your average, overly sensitive high school girls and had thought he was worse than he actually was.

Because at this moment, all you could see were the green flecks in his blue eyes and how they caught the sun that shone in from the window behind you, and onto his pale face. The way he waited earnestly to hear your response made you feel special and valuable to him at this moment and what woman didn’t like that?

“Yeah,” you said, tucking some hair behind your ear before folding your hands over your chest. Aaand, wincing, you quickly moved them away. Your boobs were especially tender with the extra pressure against them. Every day they seemed to get more sensitive to the touch, feeling heavier–fuller. “We’re still that close. Probably closer now, actually. After living together, and then her job forcing her to be far away often. . .,” you trailed off, sad at the thought of her being so far away all the damn time. “We’re forced to communicate way more than we ever have before.”

He nodded, winking at you. And although he was cute, you didn’t feel anything at the wink, really. It didn’t swirl your tummy with nerves like it would with someone. . .else. You chalked it up to the craving that was still distracting you, making your tummy growl. 

He cleared his throat before he tucked one hand in a jeans pocket and one tighter around the strap of his bag. “Intentional is the word,” he added with another wink, seeming to understand to a degree. But you caught the aggravating ‘know-it-all’ attitude. Tipping his head, he looked at you with smiling eyes. “You okay?” He motioned with his hand at your neck-chest region.

Your brow furrowed, confused. Defenses were instantly raised and you took a step back, tucking your hands into your back pockets. “Yes?” You retorted, tilting your head to challenge him. “Why?”

“Just saw you flinch and all,” he said, in wonder at your tone. When he spoke next, he no longer seemed understanding, only misunderstanding. “Nothing big. Don’t worry,” he held his hands out, as if calming a tiger. 

You felt stupid for overreacting, so you covered your tracks with a forced giggle, masking the situation the best you could with a straight-up (ironic) lie. “Just a certain time of the month,” you explained extremely falsely. “Overly reactive to everything right now.” That was true. 

“Oh,” he pointed a finger at you, pretending to get it. “Makes sense.”

Okay, you thought, squinting at him as he looked to the side with a sort of confidence. Maybe Elsie had been onto something. . . 

But then he peered down at you again with his sparkly eyes and shaggy, naturally blonde hair.  It made you feel a little weak for the guy, even with him irritating you.

But why was he irritating you, exactly? Maybe your emotions were controlling you a little too much– getting too easily offended thanks to the hormones. . . Perhaps he was just acting like a normal human, while you were the one who wasn't reacting like a normal human.

Your stomach was fucking growling though. . .Theo didn’t matter worth fuck at that moment. What did matter was how badly your body was craving eating for two. If you didn’t eat soon, you were afraid you would faint from lack of sustenance (you definitely wouldn’t, but there were the over-reactive feelings again). 

You started backing up, and made it just next to the table when you were saying your next words. “I’m going to go ahead and get out of her–.”

“Wait!”

Having just turned on your heel, your face was hidden from view, and you were able to roll your eyes when you heard him. You weren’t going to stop though. He could follow you to the parking lot. You were hungry and grouchy and ready to eat an entire jar of pickles before crashing hard against your sheets. Before you had to show up at the B&G for the evening shift.

“Follow me,” you said, short, only looking over your shoulder at him briefly before continuing your trek. But please don’t talk for long. 

You were just outside North Hall when you decided to stop, so you wouldn’t have to fear him stalling you at your car.

“What’s up?” You asked, playing cool despite your desire to grumble. 

“I actually– I just thought–,” he laughed, seemingly at himself. He scratched behind his ear. Then he stood up straight, determined after tucking both hands into his front pockets and clearing his throat for the second time that day. You noticed his jeans, dark wash, skinny, and complimenting his firm thighs. “I wanted to ask you to hang out with me sometime– outside of here.”

Seriously? He was stopping your pickle eating for this?

You couldn’t help the snicker that escaped you, confused. “We do hang out,” you grasped tightly to the straps of your backpack again, anxious to get food. Already tired of him. “Every Sunday.”

“Well, yeah,” he agreed, pausing. Then he grinned in a way you assumed he thought was cute. But all it really did was make your eyes hurt from the inability to roll, out of courtesy for him. He continued, taking a step closer. Your hands did start perspiring and your heart sped up positively at his proximity. “But I thought maybe we could do something not related to school?”

You opened your mouth to reject it–you were not interested. For many reasons. The biggest being the baby in your belly. . .

Although, the more you pondered the baby, you realized more than that, you were hesitant because of his or her father.

Not the child, but Jake. The man that was ever-present in your mind– with his beautiful, brunette hair, eyes the color of understanding, easing you in the most complex situations. . . and the heart that’d made the world suddenly make sense. . . (Which still scared the hell out of you, by the way.)

But. . .as the thoughts spiraled, it all started to have the opposite effect. Made you want to agree.

So, you did.

You said yes to hanging out with Theo. Because, as soon as that thought process had started derailing, you knew it was best to agree. The idea of hanging out with him seemed like a great distraction from Jake. A much needed one.

What you had with Jake was nothing and it was in the past. For a reason. 

After you watched him smile wide and say he’d text you, he went to join a heap of Pratt’s fraternity boys. You could only hope that maybe getting out there and hanging out with someone else would get your mind off of Jake. 

You did not want it going further than a few dates with Theo. Just a little time with Theo would surely be all it took to get your headspace cleared and make it easier to navigate life. 

The repercussions to its ending were literally nothing. You’d switch seats in class and force yourself through school with the occasional encouragement from Elsie. Theo was not a necessary addition to your life long-term, but you figured he could help you short-term, while also creating long lasting benefits.

Surely you could divert your thoughts from Jake. Think of the child first, and put its father on the backburner as you weaved through this next chapter in your life. . . No matter how badly you wanted him with you through all of it, experiencing it all first hand with you, it was the wiser decision to keep things separate. 

And, as an additional help, Theo would make it obvious to Jake that you were willing to keep your life separate. 

So, when you did eventually tell Jake (dear fucking God), there would be an additional party that emphasized you’d moved on and all that mattered now was the baby. 

Not the two of you. That ship needed to sail. 

Even though the thought made your stomach hurt like hell and tears well in your eyes as you pulled into the nearest Trader Joe’s for pickles. . . you knew it was the truth.

-🌼🌼🌼-

That evening, you took a longer route to work, choosing to listen to a podcast you’d found. 

Having listened to the first episode on the way to school that morning, you decided to fill your cup with another episode on the way to work. 

It was a magnificent podcast that was all about the ‘ins and outs’ of pregnancy, being a new mother, and how to grow mentally and emotionally during such a unique time.

The second episode was going just as well as the first until you heard one of the moderators’ voices get low and forlorn. 

“You know ladies. . . the first time I got pregnant is planted firmer in my memory than any of my other pregnancies,” she said, sighing heavily. 

“Oh, yeah, Jen,” another moderator said, voice growing dim with Jen’s, apparently (you were still getting accustomed to their names). “I bet, babe. . . The ones that are lost are the ones that stick so close it fuckin’ hurts and heals at the same time. . .”

“Agreed, Tally,” the third—and last—speaker on the podcast chimed in. “I’ll touch on my story after Jen.” 

“Thanks, Molly,” Jen’s voice rang through your speakers again. “Yeah, it’s just a different feeling when they’re there and then suddenly they’re not. . . When you imagine holding them in your arms for God knows how long and then it suddenly becomes impossible to do so,” Jen sniffed, and just as she did, you felt a tear hit your own cheek. God, you were hurting with her. “Every woman is different, but I just hang onto my loss like nothing else. And not necessarily in a bad way— just in an attempt to sort of keep the baby here with me— Give her the life she never got to fully live.”

Dammit, the tears wouldn’t let up. They were trailing down your cheeks steadily. When you got to the next stop light, you had to grab a napkin from your glovebox to blot at your cheeks, already marked with black streaks of mascara. Thankfully you could still wipe them up easily, not dried to your skin quite yet. But you knew the crying wouldn’t be letting up soon. Your emotions had been triggered and you would be seeing this sadness through. (Hello, pregnancy hormones.) 

You took turns holding the napkin under each eye, making sure to catch the tears as they continued. 

“I’m right there with you, Jenny,” a voice you now recognized as Molly’s said. “Even though my stories are a little different.”

Stories? 

God. You kept your eyes on the road as you popped open the glovebox once more, grabbing a fistful of left-over restaurant napkins. 

Sitting them on top of your legging-clad thighs, right where you could reach them, you took a right turn towards the B&G. 

“I’m sure we have listeners who will relate to all of these stories,” Tally interjected, sniffing. “Both of you girls.”

“I hope we’re able to help someone,” Jen responded, voice still thick, but not so bad as before. 

You heard a sigh before Molly started speaking again. “The first time I carried was very similar to Jenny’s. Lost the baby. Early on. The worst loss I’ve ever experienced—I will never understand why we lose them,” her voice shook with sadness. But, it soon transitioned to a hot flash of irate frustration when she spoke next. “I will also never understand the people who invalidate our experiences just because they were lost in the womb or lost as little tiny babies. . . Just because they weren’t full grown people, outside of the womb, when it happened. . . doesn’t make it hurt any less. You have just as much to mourn for the life they completely lost.” And just as soon as she was firm, her voice was soft again. “The life we lost before it was time.”

The other two agreed, voices low out of respect for the moment. 

“Then there was my second. . .,” she blew out a breath, as if preparing. She gave a half-laugh. “Strange occurrence. . .”

“But it happens!” One of the other two chimed in. 

“Sure as hell does,” Molly said. “The second time I carried, I had a hysterical pregnancy– a case that only 6 women in 22,000 experience. . .”

“I can’t imagine. . .,” Tally breathed a sigh out. “Your body, tricking you like that.”

“Yeah, and it felt completely real– like everything you’d expect,” she replied, thoughtful. “Like everything I experienced with the one I’d lost before. . . And, God, it was so incredibly hard to get through once I found out what my body had done to me. . . I just wanted a healthy baby–especially after the loss. I was still hurting badly from losing the first when it happened. Almost like my body was playing tricks on me just to see how far I could stretch mentally and emotionally,” she laughed under her breath, in spite of it all. 

“So fucking cruel, babe. . .”

But you weren’t focusing hard enough to know who was talking anymore. You’d caught on to the stories they’d told and now you were over analyzing your situation. . . Questioning everything. . . Was this real? Was there a baby there? Were you having a hysterical pregnancy? Was your body playing tricks on you? 

Or, had you been pregnant, and had now lost the baby like those women had? Were you still carrying the life you’d started planning around? The little life you were becoming more and more attached to by the day?

Had you ever been carrying it? 

As you pulled into work, you put one shaking hand on your rounded lower belly.

- 🌼🌼🌼-

Suffice to say, your entire evening shift was spent in over-contemplation and searching miscarriages, hysterical pregnancies, and semi-local OBGYN’s during the lull of customers. 

As you’d searched online for a clinic, you were not looking for places too close, as you didn’t want God and everybody seeing you enter the clinic on a regular basis (if you, in fact, were to find out you were carrying a tiny little bean-baby). You sure as hell didn’t need anyone to start questioning you before you were ready to offer up answers. 

Once you finally left your longest shift ever, you drove home in deep thought and drowning silence. 

Your research over miscarriages and hysterical pregnancies had done you very little good. They’d actually done you no good at all, if you were being honest. Everything you’d read made you question a lot.

Because, everything that could possibly reassure you was also possible in a hysterical pregnancy or a miscarriage.

One: your growing tummy (which could continue growing in both of the sad, unwanted instances). Two: your hurting breasts (which could still hurt in both sad, unwanted instances). And three: your nausea (which could still occur in both sad, unwanted instances).

Once at home, you took a hot second getting ready for bed— lost in thought, you decided to try to tiring yourself with a bath, complete with lavender scented bath salts and bubbles. Once you were finally in bed, cozy in your softest pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt, you tried so hard to force yourself to sleep. You didn’t want to have to wait any longer to call the nice little clinic you’d found. 

And you sure as hell weren’t hungry. Didn’t want to eat with your stomach spinning with so many nerves.

And, the sooner you fell asleep, the sooner you could call the clinic and schedule an appointment. 

- 🌼🌼🌼-

But, after laying there for what felt like hours– the sounds of calming ocean waves playing through your phone and everything– you were still awake. 

You were drowning in all of the thoughts. Drown-ing. 

One that was flashing brightly at the front of your mind was why you even cared so much. And, the more you thought about it, tossing and turning, you realized you’d found the most unique, fulfilling form of reassurance in carrying the child. You wanted this baby. It had happened without you even meaning it to. . . but you wanted this baby so. fucking. badly. You’d tried damn hard not to want the little thing, but now that you’d spent so much time pondering it and holding your tummy? There was no question about any of it. You just wanted your baby and you couldn’t figure out how to explain it.

After rolling around far too much in bed, you realized you still hadn’t heard the telling sounds of Jake coming home. So, you decided to venture out into the living room to let a TV show distract you. Hopefully distract you enough to go to sleep. Pillow, Stanley, and phone in hand, you grabbed the fluffiest blanket from your blanket basket and nestled into your couch. 

Just as you’d turned the TV to Friends–wanting to feel closer to Elsie, but not feeling brave enough to talk to her whilst already being so emotional–, you heard the sound of a key jingling in the locked doorknob. And then the door was opening and you were looking behind you at the sound— for God knows what reason.

Then he was all you saw.

Jake.

Clad in the most handsome black, felt peacoat, the top of his head hidden by a black beanie. . . the chilly evening’s attire suited him so well that it brought a ridiculous tear to your eye. 

So devastatingly handsome and not at all mine, your thoughts became enveloped with storm clouds.

Thankfully he didn’t see you staring, as he seemed to be trying to avoid eye contact as he went about setting his keys in the bowl and taking his coat off to hang it on the rack by the door. And, as his actions cemented your thoughts, your eyes became wetter, a tear falling down your cheek for this stupid ass, cruel reality that you’d created. Even if you had done it for a good reason—and you had—it still sucked big ass. 

But, just as soon as your eyes were growing teary, your heart was beating erratically in your chest. The sight of the soft, tanned skin between the opened lapels of his shirt— exposed after taking off the coat. And the silver necklaces that clanged against his bare chest were the same he’d worn for Halloween. . . Your mouth watered as you observed the way they fell between his pecs which rose and fell with balanced breaths. . . 

Seriously, fuck these hormones.

Before you could get lost in the roundness of his ass through his jeans, he turned to the counter once more. You flipped back to your original spot on the couch. You decided to 

feign any knowledge of him being home, curling into a little ball on the couch and closing your eyes to fake sleep. 

When you heard him make a stop at his bedroom and then heard the bathroom door click shut, you stayed wrapped in your cocoon on the couch. And before too long, you felt yourself fading to black, one final tear slipping past your closed lids as Rachel and Ross argued over being on a break.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Initially, you weren’t sure what it was that brought you back from such a deep slumber. But, once you heard him, you knew. The deep, raspy laugh that was slightly muffled through you gaining consciousness. 

Why was he in the living room? Was he? Was this your imagination? A taunting dream?

You cracked an eye open the slightest bit to allow some adjustment to the light you’d shut your eyes to. But. . . There was no overhead light. It was off. The room would’ve been pitch black, save for your standing lamp’s yellow glow and the blue light from your TV. 

More importantly, the warning feeling of a crick in your neck was suddenly catching your attention. So, without worrying about your company, you quickly sat up to attempt getting more comfortable. You didn’t want to feel awkward around him, but you also didn’t want to deal with a hitch in your neck or a migraine in the morning. 

The loud yawn that escaped you once you’d sat up couldn’t be helped. You were slightly embarrassed at the obnoxiously loud noise that emitted from your mouth as you stretched. Blushing, you glanced over at your fellow living room occupant to see if he’d even noticed. 

And, of course, he had. 

He was staring at you—but. . . not judgmentally. Not at all. In fact, his eyes held the natural, reassuring lightness that occupied your sweetest recent memories. And the small grin on his face. . . was shocking, to say the least. 

Why was he acting so okay with you? He’d been so distant recently. . .

You knit your eyebrows together, hyper aware of his presence and needing answers as to why he had decided to sit next to you. 

“What are you doing here?” You clipped, tone sharp. You brought your blanket all the way up to your chin and around your shoulders, as a way to protect yourself from the (obviously) harmless man. 

Although, you instantly regretted it as his expression became apprehensive rather than open like seconds before. 

Why do you have to go and ruin everything, y/n? 

He leaned back, his eyebrows furrowed as he balanced a bowl of (. . . macaroni and cheese? Fuck, that looked good.) on his knee, holding onto it with one hand. “I live here, y/n.”

And yet another memory was flashing back to you from the night you got high. . . his breath, hot on your neck, your skin erupting in goosebumps as he said similar words then– your skin flaming now, too. Just the sound of his voice could elicit the most from you. Fuck your pregnant feelings.

Or were they just feelings? The fear came rushing back the moment you thought yourself pregnant. . . was there a baby in there? God, fuck. . . you really didn’t want to sit in this train of thought again. 

You figured you might as well use your company to distract you. . . .You missed talking to him anyways–missed it so damn bad. 

But your tummy interrupted you. The growl that emitted from it was fucking humiliating, honestly, but it had happened. And after eyeing you curiously for a minute, Jake’s lips turned up with a one breathy laugh, his beautiful pearly whites on full display. God, he was handsome.

“You hungry?” He questioned, lifting his mac and cheese. “I made more of this. It’s just the shit Kraft, but it still hits the spot.”

Nodding, you went to hesitantly get up to get some. You really didn’t want to move from under the security of your warm, cozy blanket. 

“No, just wait here,” he insisted, standing. His pajama pants were your favorites (the ones he didn’t normally wear underwear with). But you did not watch his crotch for movement. Your eyes were just staring at the wrong place at the wrong time. Really. “I have to wash my bowl anyway. I’ll put the rest in a bowl for you while I’m up.” 

Again, why was he being so fucking nice? But you weren’t about to disagree. You were comfy and hungry and he was offering. It felt like old times and you felt like being momentarily delusional.

“Okay,” you quietly agreed, your eyes shifted, unsure to his face. But he was moving before you could look at him. Back to the kitchen. After a few moments, he was back, handing you a little white bowl with a spoon. The scrumptious, cheesy noodles made your eyes light up. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, responding as though elsewhere. This was weird and you hated how it all felt. But he kept talking, filling the air as he sat a beer on the end table beside him, before sitting back down in the chair. “I had to get a beer anyway. Long day with the guys and May–,” he cleared his throat, his eyes shutting briefly as he shook his head.

Fuck. Thanks, Jake, you thought, your eyes on the verge of welling with tears. The moments of silence, hanging in the air, closing in around you. Not fucking now, hormones.

All you wanted to do was ask why it had been a long day. Get more information that might hurt you. Why did you do that to yourself? 

Though, before you could say anything, he continued. Awkwardly, his eyes flashing momentarily to the TV to reset as he spoke. “Long day. I should’ve asked if you wanted one.”

Your cheeks heated. . . little did he know. “I’m good,” you mumbled, looking down at your bowl. Stomach sinking with your thoughts from earlier, you decided to eat before you lost your appetite again. Not the time to be sad. “Thanks though.”

The next few minutes went by in a silence you wanted to stab with a fucking knife. It was seriously unpleasant and sucked ass. After you both laughed at a certain thing Joey said, you figured you might as well try to keep some sort of conversation going. Because, god, you missed him. 

“I meant in here, by the way,” you motioned with your head to the space around you, mouth full. (Ladylike.) 

His brow raised as he looked from the screen to you, setting his gaze on you. “What are you–?”

“My question. Why you were here,” you embarrassingly restated, hearing how it must’ve sounded. “In the living room. With me. Why you were in here, in the living room, with me, of all places.”

He sat further back, but this time going to sit in the armchair comfortably. His feet propped up on the ottoman across from him. “Well,” he covered his mouth, coughing briefly into his fist. “To be fair– you were sleeping when I came to sit down in here.” 

Rather than being unnecessarily hurt over him only wanting to be in the same room as a sleeping version of you, you let yourself give in to the temptation and take advantage of him being distracted by his next task. You missed everything about him. . . even such a simple thing as watching him move.

Pathetic. And, because your mind hated you, it felt like you were watching him move in slow motion.

You watched in a daze as he leaned over to the tall lamp’s attached table, his self-cut gray t-shirt rising up at his hips to show his firm abdomen flex with the stretch. It shouldn’t be so fucking hot to watch someone reach for a fucking beer bottle. But, the sight that greeted you next was worse than seeing his side peeking from his shirt. What you saw next were his full, pink lips, wrapping just right around the glass top of his beer bottle as he took a generous sip of his Miller Lite. You admired, mouth open as his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat with each gulp of the beer. 

But when he went to repeat his action of leaning over the chair to set the bottle back, you decided to look away so as to save yourself from the torture (or, from the possibility of being caught). You took a bite of the mac and cheese, growing cold in your bowl.

Your heart was already hammering much too erratically from glimpsing these ridiculously mundane motions. . . fuck it all. The heat from being so near to him and watching him settled from your head all the way to the pit of your tummy. You swallowed down your bite thickly.

Your tummy.

“Yeah,” you muttered, awkwardly – you just wanted to have a conversation to get your mind off things. Problem was, you didn’t know where to necessarily start with him these days. . . Work? The band? Maya? God, no. . . gag.

Lucky for you, he took the initiative before you had much longer to overthink it. “I’m glad you woke up, though.” He pulled at his plaid pajama bottoms as he scooted up again, going back to get comfortable on the ottoman. Sitting with his legs spread (dammit), he balanced his elbows on his knees as he reached for his phone in his pocket. “I actually wanted to run something past you.”

God, please don’t say you found a place and you’re moving out. . . you thought, suddenly downcast and dreading what he was about to say. Or that you’re moving out to live with her.

You swallowed the thickness in your throat, trying to alleviate the unwarranted nerves before responding. Dispelling them with food, you took one more bite before swallowing it to talk. “And what’s that?” 

So what if he wanted to move out? He damn well could. He surely had the money and you two weren’t involved. 

He scrolled for a few more moments, your heart thump-thump-thumping without relenting. . . And finally, he found what he was looking for and before you had time to prepare, his eyes were sinking into yours earnestly. 

God. . . what is he about to sa–?

“I found a place for you to get therapy,” he stated, tone soft and careful. 

Therapy? Safe to say you were not expecting those words. 

And rather than being nervous, your emotions shifted to defensiveness. Where did he get off looking into that for you? Why was he . . .? Was he talking about the promise he’d made in his bed? That same night you’d panicked at your grandparents’? He’d remembered to do that? Why did he even care, still? You didn’t deserve for him to care– didn’t want him to care. It felt uncomfortable. 

“Why?” You sharply asked, holding your bowl in stiff hands on your lap. 

He leveled you with a look that said ‘cut it out.’ Did he really know where your thoughts were trailing? Was he still that in tune with you? Surely not. He was probably just irritated with your tone of voice. “I told you I would look for you, so I’ve been keeping up my end of the deal. I’ve actually asked a few clients if they knew of any nearby therapists worth their salt,” he peeked back at his phone, scrolling on it when he spoke next. “And there are actually quite a few good ones in the area.”

Your heart still beat harshly in your chest as you felt your skin heat with rage. You set your bowl down on the coffee table. And, the blanket, suddenly suffocating you, was flung off without a thought. “So, what is this? Is this you saying I’m a fucking loony, Jake? I’m sure you’ve been desperate as fucking hell to get me help because you think I’m such a nutcase,” you spit. You sounded dramatic (and, admittedly, like a deranged woman). You knew that. If you were thinking sensibly, you’d know he didn’t believe those things. . . but you were embarrassed that he’d been thinking so hard about this. It hurt your feelings that he thought you needed help that badly. “I’m just so broken and damaged and insane that you’ve decided you need to get a damn shrink to fix me.” Your lap was a sudden magnet for your eyes, your hands entangled on your pajama bottoms. Now, the hot teardrop that hit your interlocked hands was not expected and you swiftly swiped at your cheek. “Thanks for thinking so long and hard and asking God and everybody to find the most qualified person to psychoanalyze the shit out of me,” you sniffled, a couple more tears falling before you willed them away and looked in his eyes. “Thank you so much, Jake.”

But he wasn’t flustered. . . no, he actually sat there and took it. The brow that had raised on his face as you spoke was the only indicator that he’d heard you. 

The emotions you were experiencing were big and uncalled for. . . but, you were stressed. Over a lot of things. Doubting a lot of things. Your life seemed like one humongous question mark and you were sleepy as fuck and it was all just catching the fuck up with you. 

He cleared his throat, glancing once more at his phone before setting it on the arm of the chair. A tiny smirk ghosted briefly over his lips before they were set in a flat line again as he spoke next. His eyes stayed trained on his own hands, now clasped as well. “Y/n. . . Please. You know I don’t fuckin’ think those things,” he tried quietly, slightly testy, but not harsh. Then his irises found yours once more, making your heart rate speed up. You did know that. . . You knew better. He was right. “You agreed to this. I wouldn’t have made a point to look into this if you hadn’t okayed it,” he stretched his hands out and then combed them through his long, chestnut locks. 

His jaw flexed and he eyed you once more, digging into the heart of this before going any deeper. “I don’t want to force it on you. I won’t go any further in this conversation if you don’t want it. This is your decision. You know I looked into therapists. That’s it. You choose where you want this to go and then I’ll either leave you alone or tell you what I found out.”

You felt bit by bit of your current guard break down as you slowly relented. Because, well, you did want to know what he’d found out. Absentmindedly, you glanced down at where you’d subconsciously placed your hands over your stomach. It was habit at this point. That one reason underneath your fingertips was pushing you to know what he’d come to know. If you were, in fact, with child, you were desperate to start therapy. Yeah, sure, you wanted to get help for your sake. . . but more-so the child’s sake. Because, honestly, if you were not with child, you weren’t really sure if you’d want to push yourself to do that– go through all of those intense measures and changes and emotions that you knew only therapy could bring.

There was a ginormous sneaking, sinking suspicion in your gut. The one that was telling you there was a helluva lot more simmering, boiling beneath the surface than you knew. There had to be. For all the blaming you’d put on Jake just now, you knew you were a basket case. And there were some good fucking reasons behind it that you had to get to the bottom of. 

You had to do it for your child. And, on the off chance that your worst fears would come to light and you weren’t actually pregnant, it wouldn’t hurt to at least hear Jake out. Listen to what he’d found. 

You mumbled your next words. “Do you think I need fixing?” Dear God–where had that vulnerability come from? Did you want to know his answer?

Jake brought a thumb and forefinger up to his chin as he scratched it in contemplation, still measuring you with a long look. “I think it’s more complex than that, y/n,” he breathed a sigh out, as if not sure how to say what he was actually thinking. 

And dammit– it hurt for him to not just respond with a simple “no, I don’t think you need fixing.” More complex? What the hell did that even mean? 

“Do you think I’m brok–?”

“No,” he sighed. Then, he had your heart leaping into your throat when, in one swift motion, he was standing and walking the ottoman closer to where you sat on the couch. When he plopped down, he didn’t touch you. . . but the closer proximity was enough. The way your eyes naturally flitted momentarily to where his chest steadily rose and fell. You breathed with him. He spoke his next words with a low rasp, eyes serious as they pored into yours. “You are not broken.”

Your heart fluttered, making its way back to its home in your chest. “Okay,” you muttered. You needed to hear him say that– more than you’d ever be comfortable admitting. Finally, you responded to his prior offer. You knew what you wanted. “Tell me what you found out.”

Jake watched you for a few more seconds before leaning back a little, reaching back to grab his phone from the arm of the chair he’d been sitting in. You averted your sight to your hands this time, not watching his movements. Your hands, which were still nestled nonchalantly on your tummy. 

“So,” he started. Your gaze flickered up to him, a lazy smile fitting to your face. You watched his lips move as he spoke. Honestly, you hated how safe he felt. It wrapped you up cozier than the blanket that’d been around you moments ago. And the sad reality: you couldn’t wrap yourself up in him. You’d have to take what you could get. “I found this place. About 30 minutes from us. It’s a bit of a lengthy drive, but I figured it was worth it. It’s a clinic that’s very well known by many people around here, I’ve found out.”

“Expensive?” 

“Eh. Yeah. Pricier than others,” he clicked his tongue, raised his brow. “But– I asked Josh offhandedly the other day what the insurance was like at the B&G to figure out if it was covered by your–.”

“What do you mean offhandedly?” You nudged, hoping he hadn’t divulged that it was about you. “You didn’t tell him–?”

“No. I just asked him as if I was comparing it to mine at the agency that I teach lessons through,” he reassured. You breathed in relief. He snickered. “I wouldn’t tell him anything about. . .,” he cleared his throat, his eyes shifting from your face to the wall behind your head and then to his phone again. “Anyways. . . they’re covered by your insurance.”

At the end of the day, it didn’t really matter if Josh found out. . . he was about to have a massive bomb dropped on him (by you, of course). But. . . you still didn’t really want him finding anything out from Jake. Didn’t want him hearing anything before you were ready. 

“Cool,” you grinned, trying to ease the tension. He opened his mouth to continue, but you stopped him before he could. “Thank you, by the way. For looking into this.”

He looked surprised and you hated that he seemed that way. You should have been more appreciative to begin with. . . this was such a selfless thing for him to do and you’d reacted by getting defensive and snapping. When that was the last thing he deserved. God, you were awful sometimes. 

He smiled, wide and close-lipped. “Of course. I told you I would.”

You nodded, looking back to your hands, which you’d let move to your lap. Didn’t want him catching on to you holding your stomach. “What’s the next step?”

“Well,” he began, hesitantly. “I called them for a quote and asked about a specific therapist.”

“Why specific?” You questioned, scrunching your brows. 

“That leads into the next part, actually. . .,” he slowly continued, “She’s the only one at their practice that specializes in this unique form of therapy. A type I’ve read and researched on a fuck ton. . . I wanted to find the perfect method for your specific traumatic effects. So, I thought of the dreams. . . how you like control. . . I think it’s the type of therapy you could benefit most from.”

Damn. Way to call you out on your need for control. If anyone knew how much you desired control, though, you figured he did. But. . .now you were even more curious. . . because. . . you were venturing into different types? Wouldn’t just be sitting down with a shrink? What did he have in mind?

“And this type is. . .?”

His eyes light up, excitedly, as if he’s been dying to get to this part. “It’s called EMDR,” he voiced with a tinge of apprehension and elated anticipation. As you mouthed the letters under your breath, he clarified further. “Eye, E. Movement, M. Desensitization, D. And Reprocessing, R.”

You blinked a few times and shook your head. “Okay,” you stated slowly, placing your hands in front of you to indicate he needed to slow down. “What the fuck does all of that mean though?”

“Before I continue, I need you to know: I’ve done a shit ton of research and out of all of it, I’ve become really invested and interested in this type of therapy specifically. . . and for good reason. I’m really hopeful that it will help you,” he emphasized, eyes sincere. 

Your tummy did somersaults at how invested he’d become in all of this . . . but your mind stuttered momentarily at the flutter. You couldn’t help but get lost in the thought of a little bean in there and how you hoped to feel little kicks someday (obviously not yet, Jesus Christ), not just Jake-induced butterflies. God, you hoped there was a little thing in there. . . 

Jake’s steady, soft voice brought you back to the present and to his face that peered down at his phone, reading carefully. “To put it simply: it’s like a form of hypnosis. A way to force you to remember certain things so you can finally move on and heal from them.”

You blanched at that. “I’m going to be hypnotized?” To say you were second guessing this was a massive understatement. This EMDR shit could take a back seat. You were already apprehensive about getting help–even with the traditional approach. “I’m not down for hyp-fucking-nosis. Hell no. And all for the sake of remembering things I don’t really care to remember in the first place? I don’t think so, Jake,” you shook your head, toying with a loose thread at the bottom of your t-shirt. “I’m already taking a hugeass leap by being willing to go to therapy itself. I don’t need the voodoo shit . . . I’ll settle for the traditional approach,” you paused, not wanting to get too far ahead before showing your thanks. “But. . . thank you for–.”

“No, no. Listen,” he said, laying one hand on your knee for a blip of a second, your mind short-circuited at the touch. He damn sure had your attention now. “It’s different. Yes, you’ll remember things. But . . . well. . . Shit, I don’t know how to explain it in my own words. 

“Well, just send me a link and I’ll give it a read and we’ll settle–.”

“Quit,” he sternly said. “Quit saying that you’re going to settle. I don’t want you to settle. I want you to get to the root of this. . . so you can heal. Please. Hear me out,” he pleaded, the hand going back to rest on your knee for a few moments longer than last time before he removed it again. “It's–it’s more than remembering. It’s like— like your mind takes you back to the memory. You’re there all over again, living it a second time.”

“Yeah,” you went to stand up, but he moved with you, showing you he would follow you. So, you stayed put. Dear God, Jacob. “I don’t want to live the shit for a second time. Why the hell would I want to do that?“

“Do you want to fucking heal?” He snapped, his eyes searching yours for any sort of bullshit.

You blinked, “Damn,” you began, a sarcastic, irritated smirk on your face when you shook your head. Could he give you a break, maybe? Shit. But, still, you answered him. And his impatient, waiting eyes. Your answer was a no-brainer for you at this point. “Yes, Jake. I want to fucking heal.”

His jaw flexed as he let out a deep breath, through his nose, pinching the bridge of it. “So, please, y/n. . . just listen to me. Hear me out. You don’t have to do it. I just want you to let me explain it first,” he begged, eyes trained on yours, following every flicker of them. The unsureness you communicated through your gaze was balanced by the overwhelming sureness in his. You nodded for him to continue. He reciprocated the action, continuing with a deep breath in and and a deep breath out. “EMDR allows you to heal by letting you be in charge of your healing. You have the power to leave the situation this time. You’re in control of it now. It’s the past. But you have to face it. . . That’s part of it. . . The cool thing is, though. . . you can control whether you stay or leave a memory; you control how you move on from it.”

Well, goddammit. . . Of course he’d know just what to say to get you to finally listen to him. 

Control. That single word finally flicked the lightbulb on in your stubborn, jaded head. 

You paused heavily in your opposition, taking note of his far too sincere features. Perhaps he truly was just trying to help you, a sentiment that had always felt utterly foreign to you throughout your life. You’d held all of your guards up so high for so indescribably long. It took a lot for you to dare let anyone in aside from your sister (who, if you had to be honest, simply didn’t have a choice being your own flesh and blood. . .And given the fact that she lived it, too). 

But the harsh reality of the matter was, you had let Jake in. Too much. If it weren’t for the seriousness of the moment, you could’ve smirked at the irony of just how much– the possible little life in your tummy, a constant reminder in recent times. And, well, you’d definitely let him in enough that he knew you came with some serious trauma.

You watched him carefully, suddenly beginning to realize that the only reason you’d felt so reluctant to heed his guidance with this bizarre form of therapy. The reason you always doubted him– you couldn’t fathom the fact that he truly wanted to help you. 

But, time and again he seemed to prove you wrong. Even after you’d bitched him out to kingdom come in the kitchen months ago. There was no reason for him to want to help you. But here he was. With his research, his beautiful and honest eyes, the phone that he gripped with purpose with explanation after explanation, as if a lifeline. . .

He cared. Whether you could accept it or not. . .it didn’t change the fact that he actually cared. 

“I’ll go talk to the therapist,” you finally offered, relenting as much as you could at that moment. “I’ll feel it all out after I talk to her about it. . .,” you leveled, feeling fair in that decision. 

And he didn’t question, just shook his head with a lip stuck out. “Yeah, yeah. Totally.”

“How do I schedule the appointment?”

-🌼🌼🌼-

The next day was spent making strides towards your future. You scheduled the OBGYN appointment as soon as the clinic opened— being as that was the first, major priority. Setting that up had been simple. A date and time. The insurance you’d be using. Then, you’d hung up.

But, as soon as you’d set that up (and felt utter relief at having that panned out), you called the counseling practice Jake had told you about. And, you set up a therapy session with the woman Jake had given you the name of for the day before your first OB appointment. . . 

The counseling appointment was set up for the upcoming Monday. . . For some reason, when you’d been on the phone, scheduling for the nearest date available had seemed like the only logical option. But, it hadn’t been as cut and dry as your scheduling for the doctor’s appointment. There’d been a form. They’d informed you that they would email it for you to fill out with some general information (and a picture) before your first appointment. It was slightly daunting, but not totally unexpected, the more you’d thought about it. It was an understandably reasonable precursor to your first session. Just a few minor things to assist in your therapist knowing the most basic things about you before beginning. 

Doing it before the OB appointment had also seemed like a good idea. Talking to someone about the newfound worries to help you wade through the days to seeing the obstetrician. . . It seemed like a good plan of action. Made you feel more peace for the whole situation, honestly. 

So, that Friday, as you settled into your seat for a stupid ass writing course, you didn’t even care as you felt like other things were on the move. Honestly, at this point, you wanted to say fuck school and your distaste for the major you’d chosen. . . As they didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of it all. Bigger things were about to start happening. 

And you could only hope that what awaited you would be positive. . . Positive bigger things ahead. 

Bigger things that looked like real healing and a baby with Jake’s eyes.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The couch was leather and a little cold, even through your leggings. . . and the small office-room smelled like essential oils. It was reminiscent of a spa without the ambience music. 

The place didn’t need the music, though. . . the oils and general atmosphere were the perfect, calming mixture. . . Well thought out combination of smells and colors to ease the mind. 

But no therapist. Not yet. You’d been led by the secretary into a room where you now sat by yourself. She’d offered tea, coffee, and water, with a large, welcoming smile on her freckled face. You couldn’t refuse the offer, so you’d accepted the option of water. 

It had been in a bottle, and you clutched it tightly, opened only for the tiniest sip as you let your body relax as much as it could, leaning the slightest bit back into the couch. 

And you continued to wait. 

You watched the closed wooden door, your eyes wandering every now and then to the artwork that depicted gardens and fresh flowers. . . Some were beautiful paintings, while others were simple little drawings, or even real flowers, pressed in a glass frame. 

The walls were tinged with a light sage—the color, oddly easing to the mind. 

Then the knob was twisting open, matching the feeling of your nervous tummy. The muscles at the pit of your stomach flexed and flinched at the prospect of the therapist. What was she going to be like? Would she match the cool, relaxing environment of her office? You could only fucking hope. . .

Looking down at your hands to avoid any awkward eye contact, you took note of how badly you needed a manicure. . . damn. 

“Y/n?” A reposeful, gentle voice interrupted your nail critique. You looked up to acknowledge your long-awaited company. . . and man, was she completely different from your last therapist. The first thing you noticed was that she was. . . young. Mid-thirties at the very oldest. She was much younger than your aging counselor from the past. How long had she been doing this? “I’m Gianna. But all of my clients and closest friends call me Gia.”

“Gia,” you tried it out, letting a small smile fit to your face. It was a genuine smile– you were relieved. Without even really knowing her, you already felt so at ease with her. She was one of those people–like Elsie or Josh–who just carried a naturally empathetic, calming air. Made you feel like you were standing in the breeze on a warm spring day. “Nice to meet you.”

Her hair, naturally dark, but dyed beautifully to be a blonde-gray, was up in a styled messy bun. Lips, painted in the most beautiful naturally red tint. . . and the round, wire-framed glasses that sat on the bridge of her nose complimented her soft features so incredibly well. The freckles on her pale face, visible through the circular frames. Her cheeks were tinged with a perfectly rosy blush, and they swelled with your greeting. 

She adjusted her loose, beige overalls over her off-white, long-sleeved mock neck. The overalls were the fabric ones that’d gone viral (which helped you to note how incredibly trendy she was, if you hadn’t already been able to guess that). She inhaled and exhaled easily, her lips quirking even more than before. “It’s nice to meet you, y/n,” she repeated back to you. “I’m sorry it took me a bit to make my entrance. I like to give my people some time to adjust to the space before they’re bombarded with all of the therapy stuff. It’s an important thing to me.” Then her leg was being bent to balance her white, platform converse on the seat of her pale pink rolling chair. “Before we begin. . . I also need you to know that my office has a completely open door policy. If, at any moment, you start feeling uncomfortable, please let me know and you may leave to take a break, or simply leave the practice to adjust your thoughts before the next session. Won’t charge you for the whole time or anything. . .,” she added the last part, surely as another financially conscientious adult. “I just know that sometimes this shit gets tough–baring all of it and having to get through it. . . it’s rarely easy, and I want to be able to foster a healthy, resting environment for you as you wade through all of it.”

“Wow,” you blinked, your heart warm in your chest as you let yourself sink a little further into the couch, shoulders loosening just a bit. “That’s amazing. Thank you.”

Winking, she brought the mug up to her lips that she’d carried in with her. After taking a sip, she sat it on her desk and then wrapped both arms around her bent leg. “Is there anything you’d like to know about me and my profession before we begin?”

You pondered that, always having questions swirling in your head. “Just general things,” you snorted, playing it off. “Stupid, basic shit that I don’t need answered.”

“Nothing is stupid in here, sweets,” she said firmly, her eyes communicating more than the words she’d said. “Sometimes misguided and confused, yes, but never stupid.” She used the foot on the ground to swing the chair from side to side, ever-so-slightly. “Sooo, shoot. Ask anything you’d like–basic or not.”

Blinking at her again, you let your grip on your water bottle ease up. “Oh, um,” you quietly began. You scrambled for the right words. “Well, I guess I was wondering how long you’ve been doing this?”

She giggled. “Oh, sure. . . I’ve been practicing for about five years. Administered EMDR for the past two or so. . .” Her cheeks were still rosy with a gentle smile when she spoke next. “I will ask, though. . . did you not check out the website prior to this?”

Fuck. You hadn’t thought to do that. That was strange. . . usually you’d jump at the chance of looking into anything and everything before diving head first into something. Especially something as serious as a life-changing thing like therapy and the person you’d be inevitably baring your soul to. What in the fuck? Why hadn’t you thought to do that?

“I– um,” you searched her eyes, as if they held your answer. “I didn’t. Which is strange for me.”

“It’s not a big deal, really,” she said, grabbing her mug from her desk again. But before taking a sip, she continued. “I just noted on your form that you like having control over the things that transpire in your life. And checking the website to do some solid research seems like just the way to do that.” She took a sip, humming as she took it away from her full lips. “But there’s my thoughts going to crazy places based primarily on black and white principles. And we’re definitely not here to do that,” she shook her body as if shaking it off, putting her leg down and nestling her mug between her hands. “I don’t look at shit in black and white. That’s something that, as your therapist, I need you to know. There’s a lot of healing properties found in the gray.”

You couldn’t explain it, but the last sentence left you feeling this overwhelming sense of hope and understanding. Without even knowing you, she seemed to get the fact that you came with a lot of fuckin’ gray. All kinds of shades of the color. Had you been that transparent on your form? Not able to remember it, you just pushed it to the side as you figured it didn’t really matter. Because even if you had been open on the form, you were about to get much more transparent.

“Thank you,” was all you said, the water bottle held in loose hands as you comfortably crossed your legs. “My life has left me pretty fucking gray, so that’s a relief.”

“There’s beauty in the gray, love,” she noted, leaning forward as if engaging even further in the conversation (as if she wasn’t already remarkably with-it). She held her tea steady in her hands, and you couldn’t help but look down at the mug to see what it looked like. And, of course, it was covered in pale flowers, just like her office. “I’m down for any more questions you may have.”

“Family?”

“Just a fiancé, but other than her, I’m pretty estranged from much more family. Boundaries are a specialty of mine, and I’ve had to set a few in my life,” she said, assured and confident. “No kids yet. We aren’t quite sure if we want them or not.”

You nodded. But, you were not able to hold back the wetness that gathered in your eyes. The tears settled at your ducts and if you blinked, you knew they’d fall. The way you were feeling at the moment was unexplainable. So many things at once. But, most importantly, you were thankful. Thankful for people like Gia. The woman exuded peace and you weren’t sure why you’d ever questioned trying therapy again when there were women like her in this profession. 

“Thank you,” you said again, as if you were a manufactured robot. Then you shook your head, embarrassed at your currently tiny vocabulary. “I’m sorry I keep saying that. I’m just grateful there’s people like you in this world.”

Wow. Okay. So we’re getting real honest and sentimental now, huh? A good-humored voice asked you. Here for it.

“That’s very sweet of you,” she said quietly, respecting the new emotions in the room. “Are you ready to tell me a bit about you?”

Letting the tears fall with a blink, you wiped at them with a breathy laugh. She grabbed the nearest tissue box and handed it to you. You wiped under your eyes and dabbed at your cheeks. “Chose to not wear makeup for a reason,” you chuckled, internally thanking past-you. She laughed with you, placing the Kleenex on the couch next to you for proper access, then sat back, balancing her elbows on her thighs as she held her face up with open palms. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” she said once you’d settled. “We’ve got the next hour and a half.”

“How much do you wanna know?” You huffed, rolling your eyes as you placed your locked hands over your tummy. “I’m a basket case.”

Her eyes sparkled. “As much as you’re willing to tell me,” she affirmed with a wink behind her glasses. “I’m all ears.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

So, as you left that day, you were absolutely confident in saying Gia knew about as much of your life as Elsie did. And that was saying something.

She’d just been so receptive, and had kept encouraging you– as you cried and laughed and sighed and growled. She kept reminding you that she wanted to ‘hear as much as you’d give her’. That she was ‘in your corner’ and that she was ‘there for you.’ And her words and kind eyes were enough to spur you on. Continue to the point of her knowing nearly everything there was to know about your life. 

From your childhood to now, Gia was now totally knowledgeable in the realm of Y/n. 

Thankfully, there’d been no EMDR, as she informed you that next session you’d begin talking about the intricacies of the practice and whether or not you wanted to begin with it the session after your next. She wanted to take time to adjust and ‘simply be’ before introducing the innovative method of therapy.

She’d given a couple of tidbits about it, just for you to think about before the next session, but not too much, since the next session was dedicated to her actually breaking it down for you. 

“Now, before you leave, I want you to know that we can locate your safe place next time. The place in your mind where you’ll return when you need a breath of fresh air amidst the memories,” she’d offered, hands in her pockets, tea cup abandoned as you stood up alongside her to follow her out of the office. But before you two left the office space, she took the time to assure you once more. “But only if that is what you decide you want. This is your life, sweets, and I’m just here to help you through it.”

And, for the eighty-millionth time that day, you’d told her ‘thank you.’ You were going to take a bit of time to consider it. 

She’d also given you a few nuggets of wisdom. 

They’d specifically followed the end of your session, when you’d broken down about the unsureness of your pregnancy (but easily applied to the rest of your messy ass life). 

One thing she said to do: “Slow down your thoughts. Do not let them take control. Slow them down and figure them out with what you know. Piece by piece, break them down before they get too astronomically crazy.”

Another being: “Let yourself feel peace. Just every once in a while, let yourself feel it and don’t let guilt eat you alive for it.” (When you’d laughed sarcastically, she’d nodded, agreeing that it was “most definitely easier said than done.”)

She had been wonderful at assuring you that it was most definitely a product of your trauma to react so preposterously. How you thought certain decisions and thoughts might give you peace, yet always resulted in the opposite. But, she’d also told you that you’d “figure it out bit by bit” as you move along and to “give yourself grace” as you navigate it all on your own, in your day-to-day life.

But, there was one singular, specific piece of advice she’d offered that was sticking out more than much else. 

Of course, you’d filled her in all the way up to your appointment tomorrow and Elsie’s idea for Josh to attend with you. You wanted her opinion on it, asking for as much, and she’d been firm in her opinion. Her words rang in your head as you navigated the late afternoon New York traffic on your way back home.

“Your sister is a genius,” she’d said astonishingly, blowing out a breath from between her naturally full lips. “Everything she said is exactly what I’d tell you, too, sweets. And if it helps to hear this, even as an outside party, Josh sounds like the type of person to receive it in a non-traumatizing manner. He will, most definitely, be sensitive to your feelings. And, having him there will help you feel less alone and calm in your worries. . . and it will help him feel needed–like Elsie said. So, truly, it’s a win-win. If I had my way, I’d make sure Josh is there tomorrow. But, again, it’s your life and it’s up to you.”

“How do I even ask, though?” You asked pathetically, pulling your sleeves down over your hands as you began to get nervous at the prospect. 

“Take a deep breath,” she calmly recited (as she’d done a time or two during your life lament). After doing it with you, she settled you with an understanding gaze. “Just text him. Tell him you have an important appointment tomorrow and that you need him there with you.”

“And if he asks what it’s for?”

“I’d say you tell him that you’ll tell him when you see him or when you get there,” she advised. “But, I don’t think he’s the type of person to question when you’re being vulnerable like that. I’d bet you he just agrees to it, no questions asked– if he’s free, that is,” she winked. 

So, with her sitting there, you’d texted him and asked exactly what she’d told you to. The thing about having an “important appointment.”

And even though he hadn’t responded, you tried to not overthink it as you calmed down from telling your entire life story to your therapist.

When you’d pulled into the apartment complex, your stomach sank at the sight that greeted you. Your space was awaiting you, but Jake’s, next to yours, was empty. Per usual these days, his new purchase of a used car was not at home at the same time as you. Really, you’d gotten used to his lack of presence. But it always made you sadder than you wanted to admit. Because, well, you knew if he wasn’t at the studio or some rehearsal, he was most likely with Maya (you were awfully glad he didn’t bring her around the apartment too much, but still. . .your mind went crazy at the other prospects of what they were doing). 

But today, it was worse. You were sad for more than your assumptions about his whereabouts. Today, you desperately wanted to tell him thank you– wanted to fill him in on how it had gone so great. But he wasn’t there. Because you’d pushed him away (something that Gia told you you’d ‘navigate the reasoning for’).

So, as you trudged up the steps, instead of walking in to tell Jake, you just took time to relax as much as you could. And you figured a good way to do that was to give yourself a long ‘everything shower,’ with your most favorite R&B playlist playing as background noise. 

And when you’d gotten out, the screen that you opened your phone to was something that brought a swarm of anxiously joyous butterflies. Under his name, there was a ‘Yes, of course!’ from Josh. And below his text, was a notification for your next appointment with Gia. One week from today. 

Everything would be okay. It would. You recited this as you responded to him, deciding to try your best not to think of telling him until you absolutely had to tomorrow, after hitting send with a simple ‘thank you :)’.

You kept reciting that everything would ‘be okay’ as you put a hand to the firm little bump, growing steadily at the bottom of your tummy. And you contemplated as much as you were willing to, without reducing yourself to any more tears (you’d cried enough already for one day). Because now all you were going to be plagued with for the next several hours until your OB appointment was whether there was actually a baby in your growing belly. 

You then ate a giant salad (everything else you wanted to eat had made you feel nauseous as hell), as you’d watched Friends. Your thoughts were subdued, but still spiraled a tad. . .though, you took Gia’s advice and tried to slow them down to navigate each one with what you genuinely knew. There was nothing telling you that you weren’t with child besides your own convoluted mess of negative thought. More signs were pointing to that you still were. One piece of truth keeping you going was your growing belly. And even though bellies could still grow after miscarriage or in the case of hysterical pregnancy, the probability of that being your situation was very, very slim. Right?

You knew that. 

Before too long, you were standing in front of your vanity, braiding your wet hair and laying down to find rest much easier than many nights in recent times. . . the only thing that kept you up for a bit longer than you wanted was wondering why Jake hadn’t come home yet.

But, again, you knew it was none of your fucking business.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The next afternoon had you waiting outside of your apartment as soon as Josh said he was about five minutes away. Your apartment had started to feel absolutely insufferable, closing in around you as your mind went crazy with scenarios.

The autumn day was lovely, sun shining, but warmer today than it’d been yet this season. With no breeze. And, the lack of breeze was not aiding in your already-sweaty palms, wet with nerves. Or your upset stomach—your current nausea induced by your anxiety more than the (hopeful) baby in your tummy.

Your stomach was fucking rolling as you waited for Josh to pull up to the complex. 

Dramatic as it may have sounded, you felt as if you were on the verge of a heatstroke when he eventually showed up in his little car, which was literally squeaking and creaking as it sat still. The exhaust emitted from the back of the car was enough to make you feel like you were actually going to blow chunks, and you instantly decided you could not ride thirty minutes to the clinic in his little hunk of metal.

Sending a quick text, you made up an excuse to take your car. To emphasize the text, you went ahead and started walking to your Jetta, parked in its usual spot.

You, 11:49 p.m.: I need to get gas… Can we take my car? 

Josh, 11:50 p.m.: Of course.

Josh, 11:50 p.m.: Are you ready?

You smiled, looking over to where he was still parked in his visitor space. His eyebrows crinkled in concentration to the device in his hand as he watched the screen, waiting for you to respond.

You, 11:51 p.m.: Yes, Joshua. I’m at my car and staring right at you.

As soon as he got the text, you waited for what you knew was coming. He looked up from his phone, through his windshield, and at you with a giant grin painted across his features. It didn’t take him long to get out of his car, lightly jogging as he came over to you. 

“You creep,” he smiled, slightly out of breath. “Peeking through my windows.”

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach started aching, yet again, at the prospect of what you were about to tell him. Honestly, at this point, you were just ready to get it over. The longer you kept it to yourself, the more you were worrying about it and his possible reaction. And the sooner you could just tell him, you’d see his honest, real reaction. . . and then you could deal with the rest from there. 

It also helped that his girlfriend and your certified therapist thought that it would go okay. They were the practical thinkers in this situation, whereas you were an overthinker to the highest degree. And, if you could just get it out–just fucking tell him–you could (hopefully) validate their predictions of how the situation would play out. 

“Am I driving or are you?” He asked, bringing your thoughts back to the present. 

To current Josh. Josh who didn’t know anything yet. Completely ignorant Josh. . . fuck. The last moments of keeping him in the dark.

“You,” was all you said before you unlocked the car and made your way to the passenger side. Once you were both inside, you handed him the keys as he started the engine.

Your stomach fucking dropped as he backed out of the space. . . what was about to come out would literally change you and Josh forever.

Would it be for good? Would it be for bad? If he was going to be mad at you, how long would he stay that way?

You couldn’t be upset with him if he got angry. For everything. Like distracting Jake when Josh had specifically told you he didn’t want that for his twin. Or for simply keeping this giant ass secret from him about it all. The more you thought about it, you thought that perhaps the reason you were so scared was because of how completely validated he would be if he did end up being pissed as hell with you. . .

But. . . you just couldn’t stand losing him. Especially at such a time as this. . . you needed him. 

And that’s why you just needed to fucking tell him. It was inevitable for him to find out, and the sooner it was out, the sooner you weren’t lying to him anymore. Because that’s exactly what you’d been doing. You’d been fucking lying. For months. To your best friend.

“So,” he began, excited–the complete opposite of how you were feeling. “Where are we going?” 

Plugging your phone into the CarPlay, you turned off Siri’s voice before you did anything since you didn’t want her blurting out your destination before you were ready to tell him. Once she was silenced, you pulled up the directions to the clinic you’d carefully chosen. 

You sat back slowly after entering it, your stomach spinning as your thoughts went insane and your nerves continued to set on white-hot fire.

You spared a glance over at him through your lashes to see him looking out the corner of his eye at you, coming up to a stoplight. The look he was giving you made you sure that your face was morphed to show utter terror and worry. “What’s wrong, mama?”

Fuck. You turned to face the front again and squeezed your eyes shut at the nickname, bringing two clenched, sweaty fists up to your eyes as your skin began to feel like it was quite actually peeling off of you in nervous jitters. Your eyes couldn’t stand being squeezed shut any longer as you felt the tears forming behind your lids.

He continued driving, but with the occasional nervous glance in your direction. 

Then, he laid a comforting palm on your shoulder, his thumb soothing circles over your arm. 

And, once he’d done that, it was no longer in your control to keep the tears at bay. You tried to fight them back, but it was to no avail. 

So, there you were, face becoming drenched in tears as you couldn’t stop sputtering little sobs. 

In your peripheral, you saw Josh looking at you as he came to one last light before the highway, face surely painted with distress. “Y/n?” He checked, careful and concerned. “I’m sorry if I said some–.”

And what came out of your mouth next was not at all expected. But, it blurted through your lips with zero fucking warning. You did not know which part of your brain had decided to communicate with your mouth to say it.

“I’m pregnant,” you sobbed.

The car lurched to a stop, cars honking furiously behind you at Josh’s abrupt action. Your stomach, already thick with nerves, couldn’t handle it. You quickly slapped an open palm over your mouth to conceal any projectile vomiting. Thankfully none came, but you had to clench your eyes shut once again as Josh made a wide, sloppy U-turn off of the street that was leading to the highway. 

And when he’d finally come to a stop again, you opened your eyes to see he’d pulled the car over into the nearest McDonald’s.

Focusing too hard on trying not to vomit helped you to stop the outrageous weeping for a few minutes. You finally peeled the hand from your mouth as you took several deep breaths, in and out, to calm yourself and your stomach. 

Before you even knew what was happening, Josh was getting out, running to the door of the establishment. You watched in the mirror to your right as he simultaneously got his wallet out of his back pocket. 

Choosing not to worry about it, you shut your eyes once more to ease your tummy. But it did not help and you felt the puke coming in just enough time to unlock your door, open it, and puke all over a piece of the yellow line that boxed the car into its space.

You groaned as you leaned back up into the car and into your seat, letting your hair fall from the impromptu ponytail that you were holding at the back of your neck. Popping open the glovebox, you grabbed a few napkins to wipe your face (these days, between the incessant crying and vomiting, you were fucking constantly thanking God for the years-accumulated collection).

And then the driver’s side door was opening once more, this time Josh’s khakis making the first appearance as he climbed back in. He had two cups, one balanced between his bicep, clad in a white, long-sleeved tee and his chest and one in his hand. He quickly placed both in the center cup holders and popped a straw in each. 

Your brows lifted, wondering. “What did you–?” 

“Sprite,” he pointed to the one at the front. “And water,” the one in the second holder. 

“How did you–?”

“There’s a part of my brain permanently cemented with what it was like to watch my mom be pregnant with Sammy,” he explained, eyes soft with a smile gracing his handsome features. “I was too young to remember watching her pregnancy with Ron, but Sammy. . . he’s always been tough–even in the fuckin’ womb.”

You gave a small giggle, stomach spinning when your hand went to grab the Sprite. The carbonation sounded perfect, and Sprite had been a go-to in a few cases of your recent nausea. 

The cool drink had been just what you’d needed, sighing as soon as you brought the straw away from your lips with the first sip. You kept it clutched in your hands as a lifeline when you looked at Josh next, eyes wet. “Thank you, Joshy,” you croaked, tone exuding gratefulness. 

“Yeah, always,” he affirmed, his eyebrows dipped in. The next few minutes were spent in silence, your thoughts finally quieted a little with the initial confession to him. You took a few quiet sips of your drink, the sound of you swallowing the loudest sound in the small car.

Knowing he most likely wasn’t wanting to pressure you to talk, you took the initiative. “I–I’m sorry for not– I’m–,” you choked, shaking your head. The tears were beginning to gather once fucking more. Yet, even with eyes wet and throat tight, you persevered. You had to get the rest of it said before you continued to the appointment–you were going to be late if you didn’t get going soon. And you weren’t about to tell him the rest afterwards. “I have to tell you the rest.”

His jaw clenched in preparation for it as he nodded, his body turning to better face you for what was left. “Lay it on me.”

You gulped, mimicking his movement so you could see him better. Your throat was so tight it nearly suffocated you with nerves. “The–the father,” you started, looking into the eyes that looked so eerily similar to his brother’s. Very much like the ones you hoped your baby would wind up having–yet, not entirely the same. “Do you want to know?”

Of course you’ll want to, you thought at your ridiculous question. And I’m going to tell you anyway, but I’m stalling like a pussy.

His lips quirked, but only the slightest, tiniest bit. “Only if you want to tell me.”

I have to.

“I–I do,” you said, your eyes darting down to your hands which wrung at your waist, itching to touch your tummy. So, you did, settling them on the small bump. And instantly, you felt better. You were beginning to find it slightly crazy what one simple touch could do. 

Choosing to watch your hands lace at your tummy instead of him, you took the last jump with two words. “It’s Jake.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: i promise you won't be waiting a month for Josh's reaction ;) see you very, very soon <3

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

Fill this form out if you'd like to join my taglist! <3 (i am slowly but surely adding these users to the taglist! :) life is busy as hell and i haven't been updating my doc w the tags like i should :/)

& 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, @thetroublegetssoloud, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend, @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon , @gvfmarge, @creadliz98, @mackalah, @lek-gvf, @carlyfleet, @profitofthedune, @mefiorini, @welllauragvf, @highway-tuna, @dont-go-home-without-me, @sarah-gvf01, @polemicandcontent, @ageofbajabule

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfic #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fanfic #jake fic #jake kiszka #covet #my fics

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐧

The longing for home, for the traditions you had cultivated as you grew into the young woman that you were today, made you troubled. You were confused for how you had missed such a mundane existence, when you had started anew with the monster that lurked in the shadows. It was just lucky, however, that this monster — the one you loved with all of your heart — was a crafty trickster, and he knew just how to bring you cheer on the Eve of Samhain.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𖤐 Monster!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 𖤐 2.5k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𖤐 Light angst, fluff

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 𖤐 For my darling, @vonalyn — you gave me the inspiration for this, and you helped immensely with steering me in the right direction! I hope you enjoy. 💚

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 𖤐 Landing in the Dark by From the Mouth of the Sun 𖤐 Nature Boy (Acoustic) by AURORA 𖤐 The Deep, the Dark by Tamer 𖤐 Nátta by Munknörr

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 𖤐 @rookthorne's Fright Night — Masterlist

𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

From the bounds of the forest, you observed the village, the one you once called home. Bright, glowing fires lined the way between thatched cottages and stone walls, while people cheered and danced with one another. It was a glorious celebration – priests and their chanting, the calls for the ancestors to join them.

Each chant filled your bones with the yearning to dance, to take part, but the festivities picked and tore at your heart, for they were celebrating the very thing that kept you, and your other half, at bay. 

The rituals were performed as a rite of protection, forcing and warding off spirits and creatures with evil in their hearts. Bucky was no such creature – that you knew, he had taken such blessed care of you, but he dared not venture too close to the village again now that you were within his hold. 

There would be no way that he would take the risk of being tracked by foolish hunters. 

As a result, the both of you were shunned, forced to live the lives of outcasts — nothing more than the dirt under the villager’s worn shoes. 

You sighed heavily, crossing your arms across your chest as the chilled air nipped through your clothes. For days, Bucky had been treating the furs of the wolves he had slaughtered, and he was determined to bring you comfort, the warmth you craved. 

There was no way he would be able to keep you close for every passing moment of your time together – he had to hunt and provide, protect his territory and chase off otherworldly beasts to keep you safe. And he insisted that the addition of your own furs would help you feel more at home in his lair. 

Suddenly, heavy footfalls crunched the twigs and leaves behind you, but you did not startle. “Hello, Bucky.”

“Lamb, my sweet,” he said quietly, and then you heard the thump of him falling to all fours. “What are you doing all the way out here, are you-”

“I’m fine,” you rushed, interrupting him. “I just–” Blinking, you felt a tear run down your cheek and you hastened to wipe it away. “I do not know.”

Bucky hummed. There was a warmth at your back, and then, white ivory appeared in the corner of your vision. You turned your head slightly to see what he was doing, but you let out a small laugh, instead. Bucky had gone on all fours and daintily rested his chin on your shoulder; ever so careful of his antlers. 

The amber glow that had once filled Bucky’s eyes had changed into an icy blue – a reflection of his sorrow. “You are… troubled, little lamb.” Carefully, you placed your palm on the divot by his nose, and you brushed your thumb over the smooth bone. Bucky made a low noise in his throat and leaned into the contact. “What is troubling you?”

“Look,” you whispered, pointing towards the bright flames of the village. “They celebrate making us outcasts. I wish they would understand.” People dressed in the skin of animals flashed underneath the light of the fires. “I wish they understood that they were casting out the real protector.”

“I am only the protector of you, my sweet.” There was a huff of breath, like he was sighing out of frustration. You glanced sideways and caught a pensive glint in his light eyes. “I could not care less for what happens to those that inhabit your old home, not after how they treated you–for centuries, might I add.”

“Still,” you insisted. “It is not something that I am hiding, that I miss it. I miss the thatched cottage I grew up in–the memories.” Bucky looked at you from the corner of his eyes. “I speak the truth. Maybe I am just melancholy–aching for the comforts of my old home.”

“The traditions?” Bucky asked quietly.

You nodded and frowned slightly. “Yes.”

Bucky moved his head from your chin, and stood behind you. “I do not see why we cannot make new ones, Lamb.”

“What do you mean?” The breeze was cold as you turned to face Bucky, brow arched in question. “I do not understand-”

“I wish to make our own traditions–create something that you will enjoy for the years to come,” he explained, tilting his head slightly, as though lost in thought. “It would make you happy, would it not?”

A warmth – a kind of contentment, a feeling unlike any other, filled you. It made your heart, once so ladened and heavy with grief and longing, light once again. You smiled, widely, and looked into his eyes. “It would. It really would. When do we begin?”

Bucky’s mouth opened and his tongue ran along his teeth, the telltale sign of him grinning made your heart soar even higher. “Why not now? We can look for what we need, there will be plenty of things to use amongst the forest floor.” He moved over towards a thick grove of trees. “And I will use my teeth and claws to sharpen whatever you may need.”

“You are awfully excited,” you teased, following him carefully. The forest floor was still unventured territory for you, and you would rather avoid tripping and falling if you could help it. 

“And you are sad, my little one. I cannot have that, nor allow it,” Bucky said easily, turning around to lead the way. “Now, come. We have branches to find.”

The venture proved to be more enjoyable than you had expected. You merely had to point at the branches on a dead tree, or to the larger ones that lay strewn over the forest floor, and Bucky would pick them up and place them carefully on his antlers, carrying them the whole way. It was only when both his antlers and arms were full did he turn to you, almost exasperated. “Lamb, I think we have enough.”

You grinned and shook your head, pointing to one of the largest branches with your free hand – the small amount of bounty in your hands heavy. “I want that one, and then we can go back–back home to your lair.”

The fur on the back of Bucky’s neck raised a little at your words, and a shiver went down his spine. “Fine,” he said, huffing. “This is the last one. But I will never tire of hearing you call my lair home.”

“I bet you won’t,” you mumbled. Bucky just growled warningly as you skipped away. 

Upon arriving back to Bucky’s lair, you tipped the small bundle of branches in your arms onto the floor, just next to the crackling fire that he kept well stocked for you. “I think… Why don’t I make us chimes? Or, maybe, what about some catchers?”

Bucky walked into his lair, dragging the largest branch behind him. He tipped his head down into the far corner to rid his antlers of his bounty. “You make whatever your heart desires.” A solid thump sounded next to you, and you looked over at him – he was laying on the earth of his lair, looking up at you. 

The teeth on the sides of his elongated face shone with spit, and you watched, transfixed, as Bucky ran his tongue over his front fangs. “Would you stop that?” you asked, indignant. 

“Whatever do you mean?” he hummed, but he stopped all the same, and he eyed the larger branches. “Would you like me to–?”

“Yes, please,” you affirmed, glancing over at them. “That would be very helpful.” Bucky rose again and got to work, sharpening the branches into points with his claws and teeth. 

For hours, you sat by the fire and whittled a couple of catchers while Bucky finished working on all of the larger branches. It was a companionable, comfortable silence between the two of you. 

“Lamb, sweet,” Bucky said quietly, and you looked up from your lap towards him, to find he was already staring at you. “When I was young, I shed like any buck would. Since I was a beast that was hunted, I kept what I lost–lugging it around with me so no hunter could track me.”

You tilted your head, curious at where Bucky was taking this story. 

“And, over the aeons–the centuries, I have amassed quite a collection of old antlers and fangs,” he gestured to the impressive extensions, the few of many weapons at his disposal. “Would you–I mean, if you would want it, I can give you these parts of me to interweave with your creations. They would still have magic after all these years; they would add layers of protection.” 

“Oh, Bucky,” you gasped, hand over your heart. The implication of interweaving parts of your other half would no doubt bear an unrivalled amount of protection. 

“It will also make me happy if I were to see what you have created out there, parts of you and parts of me interlocked in something of beauty.” He looked down and flexed his hands; his claws shone like refined obsidian with the firelight. “Something you could be proud of–and part of.”

You rose from your spot by the fire and walked over to Bucky, eyes soft and kind. Without an inkling of hesitation, you took the sides of Bucky’s face in your hands, mindful of his teeth, and tilted his head up so you could stare into his eyes. “I would not love anything more.”

“Lamb,” he breathed, and his hand ever so gently cupped yours, the claws kissing your skin. “Oh, how I adore you.”

“It is nothing compared to how much I adore you,” you replied. Tilting his head down a little, you bent and placed a soft kiss between his eyes. 

The moon set beyond the horizon a few hours later. Bucky had encouraged you to work away at your creations until you had a round dozen, and he pledged to walk you through the forest, offering to help place the grounds of protection that you had created for your home. 

It was a brisk morning and you shuddered as you followed right behind Bucky, careful to stay on the path he was creating with his bulk through the brushes and thickets of brambles. “We are not far now,” he said quietly. 

You huffed and looked at his antlers, where the last two chimes hung, ready to be placed. “I should make you some for your antlers,” you mused aloud. 

Bucky looked at you sharply and rolled his eyes. “I draw the line there, Lamb. I need them free so I can protect you; protect us. There is also no way that I would risk destroying something you have made for me.” 

“Fine,” you sighed. “Still, I am going to.”

There was silence after your proclamation, and you smirked, victorious – you knew he would give in. 

“We are here,” Bucky said abruptly, and you ran into his back with a grunt of surprise. “Where would you like it, sweet?”

You looked around, adjusting the shawl over your shoulders for warmth. “How about,” you wondered aloud, looking at the tall pines surrounding you. There was a patch of space between a set of two pines, and a bare branch stuck out at an odd angle – if it were placed there, it would glint in the sun at midday. “Up there! It looks safe.”

Bucky followed your gaze and nodded once. “A fine choice, Lamb.” He stretched up a hand to his antlers and plucked the chime that had his fangs woven into the fibres, before he placed it carefully on the branch. The momentum made the chimes clink and shimmer in the stream of sunlight that suddenly appeared. “It is beautiful. Now, for the last one.”

The two of you set off once more, this time towards a clearing in the distance. Sounds and whispers echoed around you, the harsh sounds making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, and you placed a hand on Bucky’s fur to ground yourself. “You are safe, sweet. I swear,” he murmured, slowing his pace. “It is just the forest spirits, it is Samhain–they are more mischievous than any other, you know they must investigate any being that passes.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, still resting a hand on Bucky’s fur. “I trust you.” 

Bucky’s hand brushed over your hair and down your back, a slight purr emanating from his chest. “Why don’t we find the last spot and then head home? You will need to sleep soon, Lamb.”

You nodded and looked around. The trees of this clearing seemed to be teeming with life, an unknown type of magic tinged the air, as well. A pine to your left bore the same qualities as the last, and for some reason, that singular tree felt more friendly. “Why not up there?” 

“I like it, sweets–come,” Bucky said quietly, and you followed him, of only a little hesitantly. “I would like you to place it. What do you think?”

“Me? How, I am on-” A gasp of shock interrupted your protest and your feet left the air. 

“I will help you, little one,” Bucky whispered, and he moved you through the air with such care you barely even felt the wind on your face. “Place it where you wish.”

With the utmost sense of caution, you carefully placed the twine over the branch of the tree, and it shuddered. You almost gasped with fear when a small face peered out from behind the foliage – a forest pixie. “Oh, my goodness,” you whispered. “I am so sorry-”

“Edna,” Bucky said suddenly, looking over your shoulder. “Hello, my friend.” 

The miniscule creature spoke, but there were no words, only small huffs and puffs of breath, followed by tiny squeaks. 

“How kind, thank you,” Bucky said softly, lowering you down gently to your feet. “We will leave you be. It was wonderful to see you again.”

Bucky urged you on, his hand never leaving your back as he walked a little ahead of you. “Who was that–what was that? And what did they say?”

“That was Edna–a forest guardian, a small but mighty creature. You never want to find yourself on the bad side of one of them,” he explained. The trail back home was familiar to you in parts, so Bucky slacked to walk on all fours. “She was saying to me that your chime was beautiful, and she adored it–very happy to have it as part of her tree.”

“Her tree?” you questioned. “Is that why that one felt–I mean, looked friendlier?”

Bucky nodded and looked at you. “Yes, and she has promised to return the favour. We may have guests soon.”

You blinked. “Oh, boy.” 

“Do not worry,” Bucky teased, and he gently bumped your shoulder with his. “I will help you. You will become a natural–the language is not hard, Lamb. I promise.”

“If you say so,” you murmured. The sense of excitement for meeting a new creature, a possible friend, lit a fire within you – it was quite lonely in the woods, though you loved Bucky’s company, but a friend would never be amiss. Not if they loved your chimes, you decided. 

And, with that, you resolved to spend your time perfecting your craft – as well as making Bucky fetch more branches. Just to spite the devil, you laughed inwardly. 

who loves the idea of lil' forest friends? 🥹

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #rookthorne's works

[catastrophicblues]

the eras tour setlist

act i — lover era

miss americana & the heartbreak prince

cruel summer

the man

you need to calm down

lover (acoustic)

the archer

act ii — fearless era

fearless

you belong with me

love story

act iii — evermore era

tis the damn season

willow

marjorie

champagne problems (piano)

tolerate it

act iv — reputation era

…ready for it?

delicate

don’t blame me

look what you made me do

act v — speak now era

enchanted

act vi — red era

22

we are never ever getting back together

i knew you were trouble

all too well (acoustic)

act vii — folklore era

invisible string

betty (acoustic)

the last great american dynasty

august / illicit affairs (mashup)

my tears ricochet

cardigan

act viii — 1989 era

style

blank space

shake it off

wildest dreams

bad blood

act ix — surprise song / debut era

mirrorball (acoustic)

tim mcgraw (piano)

act x — midnights era

lavender haze

anti-hero

midnight rain

vigilante shit

bejeweled

mastermind

karma

#taylor swift #the eras tour #eras tour

[jaidens]

LOVING HIM WAS RED.

REQUEST PAGE FOR : EPISODE : RED - TAYLOR SWIFT. [ 9 | 22 | 23 — 10 | 6 | 23 ]

RULES FOR REQUESTING —

i am not taking any smut requests at this moment; your request can only be under these circumstances.

• fluff : cuddling, kissing, and ‘sleeping together’ are underneath this category!

• angst : break-ups, arguments, and other upsetting topics are underneath this category!

REQUESTS !

Side A

1. State Of Grace (Taylor's Version)

2. Red (Taylor's Version) [SAM WINCHESTER.]

3. Treacherous (Taylor's Version)

4. I Knew You Were Trouble (Taylor's Version)

Side B

1. All Too Well (Taylor's Version)

2. 22 (Taylor's Version)

3. I Almost Do (Taylor's Version)

4. We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together (Taylor's Version)

Side A

1. Stay Stay Stay (Taylor's Version)

2. The Last Time (Taylor's Version)

3. Holy Ground (Taylor's Version)

4. Sad Beautiful Tragic (Taylor's Version)

Side B

1. The Lucky One (Taylor's Version)

2. Everything Has Changed (Taylor's Version)

3. Starlight (Taylor's Version)

4. Begin Again (Taylor's Version)

Side A

1. The Moment I Knew (Taylor's Version)

2. Come Back...Be Here (Taylor's Version)

3. Girl At Home (Taylor's Version)

4. State Of Grace (Acoustic Version) (Taylor's Version)

Side B

1. Better Man (Taylor's Version) (From The Vault)

2. Nothing New (Taylor's Version) (From The Vault)

3. Babe (Taylor's Version) (From The Vault)

Side A

1. Message In A Bottle (Taylor's Version) (From The Vault)

2. I Bet You Think About Me (Taylor's Version) (From The Vault)

3. Forever Winter (Taylor's Version) (From The Vault)

4. Run (Taylor's Version) (From The Vault)

Side B

1. The Very First Night (Taylor's Version) (From The Vault)

2. All Too Well (10 Minute Version) (Taylor's Version) (From The Vault)

FOR THE [ 2 WEEKS ] THIS REQUESTING PAGE IS OPEN, MY INBOX IS OPEN.

AFTER THESE TWO WEEKS [ OCTOBER SEVENTH OF TWENTY TWENTY-THREE ] THE PAGE WILL BE : FOLKLORE + EVERMORE!

🧣 — i bet you think about me !

#🧭 — jaidens navigation. #🧣— RED. — TAYLOR SWIFT. #supernatural #the outsiders #top gun #top gun maverick #outer banks #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #castiel x reader #dallas winston x reader #johnny cade x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #pete mitchell x reader #nick bradshaw x reader #tom kazansky x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake seresin x reader #bob floyd x reader #rafe cameron x reader #jj maybank x reader #john b x reader #gilmore girls #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #emily prentiss x reader #derek morgan x reader

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 24

All righty, folks! Before we get to Steve, we have the band on tour and Eddie is really, really gonna go through it this chapter.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13 Pt 14 Pt 15 Pt 16 Pt 17 Pt 18 Pt 19 Pt 20 Pt 21 Meta Pt 22 Pt 23

****

Once they were on the road and the euphoria of getting the job offer of a lifetime wore off, a sense of unease settled in Eddie’s gut. He knew he should feel excited. He was doing the one thing he always dreamed about doing ever since his mom gave him his first guitar. A sweet little acoustic that he had written “This Machine Slays Dragons”. He still had it, but right now it was safe with Wayne.

But he didn’t. He just felt empty. Not good or bad. Just...empty. Like a bottle leftover from some party. Once part of a good time, now just an empty shell.

Eddie looked over at his friends. Jeff and Brian were talking, while Gareth was asleep. He pulled out his sweetheart. The way he always did when he got down.

He closed his eyes and began to play. The chords where slow and mellow. He wasn’t sure how long he played like that, just pouring his soul out into his music, but when he opened his eyes he saw that all three of his friends were staring at him open-mouthed.

“Holy shit, dude,” Brian said after closing his mouth with audible click. “Where did that come from?”

Gareth waved a piece of paper in his hand. “I wrote down as much as I could, because seriously, that was fucking incredible.”

Eddie ducked his head and blushed. “I guess I just needed to work out some shit.”

Jeff and Brian shared a glance and then Brian moved over and sat next to him.

“I think I know what you mean,” he said. “And I think you should write the lyrics too.”

Eddie looked up at him and then at Jeff and Gareth. They nodded.

“I just don’t know,” he said. “It all feels too personal to write down.”

Jeff scoffed. “And that’s exactly why you should. Because it’s personal. There’s a damn good reason that you’ve written ninety percent of our songs, man.”

Gareth nodded. “Because you’re fucking brilliant at it. Write the song. I think everyone needs to hear it.”

Eddie nodded. He got right to work on the lyrics. Taking what Gareth had transcribed and reworking the song with the lyrics. He was nearly done by the time they stopped.

Brian patted his shoulder. “Hey, man. Don’t worry, we’ve got this. You continue working on your song. I’ll send someone to get you when it’s time for the sound check, okay?”

Eddie let out a shuddering sigh. “You guys sure you don’t need an extra hand?”

Gareth laughed. “Fuck we need several, but don’t worry about yours. They’re doing the important part.”

Jeff nodded. “Yeah, we’ve got this.”

*

Eddie wasn’t sure how long he was lost in his head working on the song, but he had just put down his pen when there came a knock on the door.

He got up to answer it and saw a small Hispanic woman standing out there. “Yeah?”

“It’s sound check time,” she said. “And the drummer said something about a set of headphones or something?”

Eddie looked around and spotted the sound-canceling headphones by the table. He picked them up. “I’ve got them. I’ll make sure he gets them.”

He closed the door but it hadn’t closed all the way because he heard her say, “God, what kind of loser wears noise canceling headphones to a metal concert.”

Eddie’s blood turned to ice. He picked up his guitar and carried it out of the bus.

Thankfully she wasn’t around otherwise he would have blown up at her.

He made his way through the labyrinth that was the backstage to get to where he needed to be for the sound check.

Gareth came running up to him. “Oh thank god! I thought I lost them already.”

Eddie scoffed. “Nope, just left them on the bus like a dork.”

Gareth stuck his tongue out at him.

Eddie got to work setting up for his kit. He was almost done when a sound guy came up to him.

“We’re having trouble syncing our sound to your drummer’s headset,” he told him. “Does he need them for this?”

“What’s the problem?” Eddie asked. “They didn’t have trouble in Indy.”

The guy sighed. “Our system is newer and it’s causing feedback.”

Eddie pulled out fifty bucks from his wallet. “Go buy a pair that works. And if that doesn’t cover it, I’ll pay you back.”

The guy just rolled his eyes and did as he was told.

They played that night to a sell out crowd. They were only opening for Metallica, but damn the crowd got them going. Afterwards he called Steve and chatted about their day. His day was more exciting to be sure, but he loved hearing about the client that passed out at the sight of the needle. Apparently they hadn’t realized that tattooing in involved the pesky things and had an absolute fear of them.

Then someone was tapping him on the shoulder telling him had to go. He said goodbye to Steve and was rushed out the door.

Even though they only had three shows in those two weeks, they were quickly learning that playing wasn’t the only thing a band had to do on the road.

There were parties, and talk and radio shows, and photo shoots, and signings.

Sometimes he would get to speak to Steve, but most of the time it was leaving voicemail after voicemail.

All around him he kept hearing:

“Three weeks isn’t a relationship! It’s a fling!”

“He’s not a fan of metal? What is he a fan of?”

James came up behind Eddie and clapped him on the back. “Everything okay back home?”

Eddie stared at his phone. He had just left his third message that day with Steve.

“Yeah,” he said, voice shaking a bit. “It’s just we were so new to the relationship part, we were friends before that, that I worry being on tour has hurt us in someway.

James nodded. “It’s hard being on the road, away from family. It’s why most of us take them with us when we can.”

Eddie chewed on his lip. “It’s hard because he has his own tattoo shop and recently took on two apprentices so he’s like super busy.”

James pursed his lips. “That can certainly make it hard. What time is he off?”

“Eight.”

“Tell you what,” he said. “Instead of doing on encore tonight, why don’t you boys bow out and spend time talking to your families. It’ll be good for morale all around, I think.”

Eddie sighed gratefully. “Yeah. I’ll bring it up to them and see what they say.”

James squeezed his shoulder and went on his way.

“If the drummer doesn’t like noise why did he chose drums as an instrument?”

“A drummer that startles at loud noises? Get a new drummer!”

Lars paused them on their way to the sound check in Houston. “Hey, I know you guys are only doing a couple more shows, but after that fiasco with the Chicago guys me and the boys decided to spring for everyone to get a set of these.”

He handed the case to Eddie.

He opened it up to reveal little black earbuds. “What are these?”

“It’s what all touring artists wear,” Lars explained. “They’re fitted to cover the full inside of the earlobe to drown out the sounds around you so you can hear your own music.”

“Oh wow, that’s neat.” Eddie put one in and was amazed at the quality. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

Lars grinned. “It’s mainly for your drummer. Everyone deserves accommodations for any kind of disability and if the loud noises bother him, it makes it hard for everyone else to concentrate because you guys are worried about him.”

Eddie smiled. “Thanks!”

“It’s a pity that tattoo will never be finished. I could give you the name of my artist if you want!”

“It’s a shame that your tattoo artist wasn’t good enough to finish the tattoo before you left, maybe you could get covered with something else. Something better than that.”

The band was admiring Eddie’s back tattoo.

“I’m really liking the details, man,” Kirk said.

Robert nodded. “Hell yeah. Who’s your artist? He does some really sick work.”

Eddie blushed, grateful his back was too them. “He’s my boyfriend, Stevie.”

“Damn, you’ll never have to pay for another tattoo ever again,” Lars said. “Lucky.”

Jeff laughed. “Nah, knowing Steve, he’d probably charge Eddie an extra mayhem tax.”

Kirk and Lars shared a look and then nodded unison.

“Fair,” the said together.

Eddie yelped, “Hey!”

He turned to Gareth and Brian, but they agreed with Jeff, too.

“And they said I’m the menace.”

“Ooh, honey, let me take you somewhere private. Your boyfriend will never know.”

“It’s a shame he’s gay, all the girls are just gaga for that doe-eyed look of his.”

Eddie turned down another request to share his hotel room. Never mind that he was sharing with all the other members of Corroded Coffin and wouldn’t have had any kind of privacy. Never mind he had a boyfriend back home. Never mind he was gay.

It didn’t seem to matter with these people. Hot rock star equals slut apparently.

“How the hell do you do it?” he asked James. “You have been married to the same woman for twenty five years and you still get women throwing themselves at you.”

“It’s hard,” James said with a shrug. “But she’s more important then any roll in the hay ever will be.”

Eddie nodded, pursing his lips. Steve was more important then any roll in the hay. He could hold on to that.

“I know he’s your friend, but maybe it’s time to get a touring drummer. He can still record with you or whatever. But he’s really holding the band back right now.”

Gareth isn’t just some guy. He was family. He wasn’t even Corroded Coffin’s first drummer that dubious honor went Kyle Creevy, a snot nosed, freckled kid whose arms were barely thicker than the drumsticks he played with. But he moved right before Eddie’s ninth grade year and Gareth just slid into their lives.

They may have been playing at the Nightmare Holes for seven years but the band been together for much longer than that. They had been playing for over a decade. And unless they had someone that could learn their music in mere months were Gareth had taken years...they could fuck off.

God, the members of Metallica had been playing together for forty years and the only change they’d made was when a member fucking died.

“That back tattoo of yours is really not a good look. It’s the biggest part and no one will ever see it.”

Eddie couldn’t make them understand the tattoo wasn’t meant to be seen, it was meant to be felt. To put to feeling growing up as a small town pariah and making it out. Not ending up in jail like his dad or dead like his mom. To be the Freak and turn it into something special. To finally find his wings.

Steve understood. God, he missed Steve so much and he felt like he was pulling away. It was like a rubber band being stretched. It might snap or might not, but whatever happened it would never be the same.

The members of the band’s team shooed these people away when it got to be too much for him.

“Fame and fortune wait for no man. It’s time to lose the dead weight.”

He came close to punching that guy. Some haughty agent they met in Houston.

It was thrilling to watch security throw him out.

“The long hair went out in the eighties, darling. I really think a half shaved look would be better for you.”

Eddie laughed at that last one straight in their face. Kirk fucking Hemmet still had long curly hair, they could fuck the fuck right off.

But then the tour was over. They were going home.

****

Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@bookworm0690 @chaosgremlinmunson @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @aizawa-emma @yikes-a-bee @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @archermightbegay @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat @nightmareglitter @tinyplanet95 @novelnovella @jonesn4coffee @slowandsteddie @awkwardgravity1 @steaddie-on

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #tattoo artist steve

[likeadevils]

wait whats ur red tracklist

THANK YOU FOR ASKING I CAN YELL ABOUT THIS FOR AGES I MADE A PLAYLIST I LOVE IT SO MUCH

state of grace

22 (partially because 2 partially because i like how the second and second to last songs are two sides of being 22)

treacherous

i knew you were trouble

all too well

we are never ever getting back together (i remember it all too well 🙁 -> I REMEMBER WHEN WE BROKE UP 😡)

come back be here (the whiplash. delightful. also just a good exploration of how even when red relationships are going well they still hurt)

the last time (the first time she’s asking you this turning into the last time)

red (palette cleaner as we move into the second half of the album)

run (“loving him was like driving a new maserti down a dead end street” fading into “give me the keys, i’ll bring the car back around” makes me FERAL)

sad beautiful tragic (the parallels with run GOD)

holy ground (god that was sad we need a BOP)

better man (it’s the clearest picture she paints on why exactly that man hurt her. she still misses him, but she’s teaching herself not to)

i bet you think about me (better man into “i bet you’re just fine, fast asleep in your city that’s better than mine, and the girl in your bed has a fine pedigree, and i bet your friends tell you she’s better than me.” also after an album of being tormented by memories, the last song about the relationship being like you know what? i bet you think about me. would’ve been fucking iconic)

nothing new (after ibytam being like, “haha you’re endlessly chasing youth” being like. “oh no people only value me for my youth” just hits like a sack of bricks. like it shows the consequences of that type of relationship that goes beyond heartbreak, and affects your self perception permanently)

begin again (after nothing new it’s just. it changes the whole song)

bonus tracks!

forever winter

starlight

babe

state of grace (acoustic)

red (demo)

all too well (ten minute version)

#asks* #claire’s versions*

[this-daydream-is-dangerous-13]

When do you think they wrote songs together?

Also, which 1D songs are haylor?

We have confirmation that they wrote together some time in 2012. Jackknife Lee, who worked on The Last Time and 1D’s Something Great (Harry’s the only 1Der with that writing credit), talked about it in the linked article.

“It was out of my field of expertise and interest, but I was intrigued and my girls were thrilled. Taylor was nice and very professional. She knew what she wanted and there was no fucking about. She was seeing Harry Styles at the time, so he came to Topanga on her recommendation. She wrote a few songs with him, and it was the same thing – quick. But this time it was more directed by the management and label. They were after something specific. I wanted more acoustic and gentle, almost Americana, and they wanted bombast. They got what they wanted, and that was the extent of my foray into teen-pop territory. It was fun.”

She helped him transition to songwriting, even introducing him to her collaborators. I would bet money that she made the intro to Nashville’s Tyler Johnson (who sang on tracks, and engineered Holy Ground and The Lucky One). Harry’s been working with him ever since; they just won AOTY together with Kid Harpoon for Harry’s House.

And they’re creatives and prolific songwriters who write in a decade-long dialogue with each other. I am sure they could not resist writing together!

As for 1D…wow. A lot! All the ones with Harry as a sole 1D writer, for sure, so:

Happily, Something Great, Where Do Broken Hearts Go, Stockholm Syndrome, Olivia, If I Could Fly, Walking in the Wind. Plus a bunch of the leaked demos - Half the World Away, Don’t Let Me Go, Already Home, Trouble, Lay Down, Hunger, Him, She Got Away (newish leak Ryan Tedder co-write), Something I’ve Been Waiting For, and Where We Are.

He has a bunch of cowrites, so they’re partially Haylor: Back for You, They Don’t Know About Us, Last First Kiss, Summer Love, Irresistible, Still the One, Right Now, Story of My Life, Night Changes, Fool’s Gold, Perfect, A.M.

And then there are uncredited lyrical contributions, or times people have said “this is like the life of *someone* in the band. These are inferred from interviews (like from Ed re. 18) or context cues: Heart Attack, Change my Mind, Magic, She’s Not Afraid, Loved You First, Nobody Compares, You & I, Strong, Half a Heart, 18, Hey Angel, End of the Day, Infinity, History.

Whew. It’s a lot, but he calls himself out in Falling: “I’m well aware I write too many songs about you.”

[drdt-headcanons]

I wanna do one HC per character :)

Teruko Tawaki ~ She’s gotten into the craziest trouble before. Like she’s probably been framed for a crime and then let out at like the last second, or joined a gang by accident and then ran away.

Xander Matthews ~ He is a huge history buff and although he doesn’t agree with most things in history, he uses successful tactics other historical advocates used for his own protests and rebellions.

Charles Cuevas ~ his parents were highly against him doing chemistry, and had no idea he was even pursuing it until he won an award in highschool for it. They knew he took chemistry class and aced it, but they didn’t know the hours he spend after school were not actually gardening, but it was him studying and doing high level chemistry experiments.

Ace Markey ~ he tried to be a basic white boy back in middle school to become more popular, but he missed the memo and accidentally ended up dressing like a basic white girl instead 😭

Arei Nageishi ~ she’s definitely a hello kitty girl, but the stereotypical bitchy one

Rose Lacroix ~ she’s drank the paint water so many times by mistake she can’t even differentiate the taste between real water and paint water anymore

Hu Jing ~ Hu can also play a lot of other instruments! Although she prefers and likes the Zither out of all of them, she plays piano, acoustic guitar and cello if her high school needed that instrument for smth or someone around town did.

Eden Tobisa ~ Eden was that one super goody two-shoes back in highschool. She always did volunteer work, had pretty good grades, was the founder or in many activist clubs.

Levi Fontana ~ definitely dresses in women’s clothes. He believes clothes aren’t gendered, but he doesn’t go out wearing “women’s clothes” bc he’s worried that his reputation would be slandered.

Arturo Giles ~ he used to own all the ‘girly toys’ like LEGO Friends, and instead of building the kit, he made all the characters have the most insane, toe-curling, suspenseful drama with each other and he would narrate it and do all the voices.

Min Jeung ~ Min gives the meanest death stare. She would get teased in school for having no social life, but once she stared you down, you’d never make fun of her again.

David Chiem ~ He sets his alarm for an hour earlier than he actually has to get up, because it takes him an hour to get up and motivated and out of bed.

Veronika Grebenishchikova ~ She does insane things to impress people she has a crush on. Once, she made a heart that looked and felt exactly like a human heart and gifted it to the person she liked. After that, her reputation was basically ruined.

J Rosales ~ J definitely had a middle school emo phase. Once she disappeared from the media, she cut her hair, dyed it black and started listening to MCR and acted like her life sucked. The rebellion is still in her, but she’s matured and just prefers boyish clothes and dad-rock more than anything.

Whit Young ~ the biggest pop fan to exist. He knows every popular song, artist, but the catch is he only knows them if it’s a female singing. He couldn’t give a crap about male singers.

Nico Hakobyan ~ only likes cartoon shows that star animals, like Bluey. They also like books that star animals, but they prefer to see the animals animated on screen.

//I didn’t mean for this to get so long but ty and I hope you enjoyed the HCs!!!

:)

#drdt #teruko tawaki #xander matthews #david chiem #eden tobisa #arturo giles #j rosales #j moreno #min jeung #arei nageishi #ace markey #hu jing #nico hakobyan #veronika grebenshchikova #levi fontana #rose lacroix #charles cuevas #whit young #i won’t lie i did the Arturo one as a kid #angsty and fluffy drdt headcanons