#no doubt the ending song is going into my playlist

[alien-ally]

i love full fledged first episodes, i love characters with history where it feels like the story has been ongoing, and we just happened to join in now. it's so much more alluring than when a story seems to start anew. i love self aware characters. i love characters who know what they want and do not hesitate to seize a chance when they see one. i love midnight vibes, i love a good 'the night is still young' atmosphere. i lovee warm colours. i'm in.

#also i checked out ayumu imazu's music and LOVED it #no doubt the ending song is going into my playlist #esp when it began playing over their kiss<2 #ah jbls are SO fun #love is better the second time around #koi wo suru nara nidome ga joto #thingamabob #aa mine

[goldsainz]

FRIENDS INTO LOVERS — one shot.

pairing: lando norris x reader

MASTERLIST.

request: “Hi, could I request a childhood sweethearts with lando please and thank you 🫶🫶”

NOTE: so i did a social media au for this, hope that it's okay! let's pretend for the sake of the story's timeline that olivia is slightly older 😁 i changed the request format thingy bc the gap it left bothered me… if you check my other requested works you’ll know what i mean

liked by mickschumacher, conangray and 301,796 others

lando.jpg Day 61. Road trip with the one and only yourusername

view all 4,527 comments

yoursername my passenger princess <3

⤷ lando.jpg 😐😐😐

⤷ danielricciardo Don't even try to deny it

landofan1 literally love y/n sm

landofan2 i want a friendship like theirs

ynfan1 LANDO BEING A PASSENGER PRINCESS IS NOW CANON

liked by yoursername and 8,139 others

user1 when are they gonna get together!!!

maxfewtrell Still can’t believe I wasn’t invited🙄

⤷ yourusername this wouldn’t happen if you had other friends!

⤷ maxfewtrell Rude! I’m gonna tell Lando about this.

liked by landonorris, irisapatow and 2,643,197 others

yourusername All Of The Girls You Loved Before is out now in all streaming platforms!!! 💗

view all 39,648 comments

landonorris So so proud of you! Everyone will get sick of me playing this all the time

⤷ yourusername you’re fr my #1 fan

⤷ landonorris And what about it? 🤨

landofan21 this 100% about lando no doubt about it

oscarpiastri New song for the McLaren playlist

liked by yourusername and 17,923 others

ynfan21 if this isn’t a confirmation post + the comments… then idk what is

ynfan22 “i wanna teach you how forever feels” when will it be my turn😭

landofan22 THE BEHIND THE SONG INTERVIEW??? if this song isn’t about lando idk what’ll do…

⤷ user21 what did she say?

⤷ landofan22 “It’s about loving someone so much you don’t really care that they’ve been with someone before you, just feeling grateful you’re getting the best version of them.” that is so about lando idc what anyone says

⤷ ynfan23 don’t forget about: “I wrote it thinking about how maybe there’s someone that’s always kind of been there, and you didn’t notice or the timing wasn’t right, but now that it is you don’t think about anything else other then them.”

liked by carlossainz55, team_quadrant and 1,857,426 others

landonorris May I introduce my lovely girlfriend, Y/N! She’s been my friendfor more years than I can remember (17 if we’re being precise) and there is no one else I’d rather spend the rest of my life with. Thank you, for being my best friend all this time and letting me love you ❤️

view all 27,861 comments

ynfan31 OMG??? I WASN’T EXPECTING THIS TODAY

sebastianvettel Congrats you two! Nice to see you both finally came to your senses

⤷ landonorris Thank you, Seb!

⤷ yourusername 🫶🫶🫶

landofan31 i’m gonna need 3-5 business days to recover

landofan32 THAT TWITTER USER WAS RIGHT???

ynfan32 words can’t describe how i’m feeling rn

mickschumacher Glad I don’t have to keep this a secret anymore!!!

⤷ maxfewtrell Same here, mate! It was killing me

ynfan33 all this time they were together😭😭

user31 love is actually real

liked by pierregasly, jackchampion and 2,903,645 others

yourusername i guess hard launching is the only way! i’ve loved this man for more years than i’d like to admit, as a friend and now as my boyfriend!! wherever you stray, i follow 🤍 (shoutout to user3 on twitter your thread was scarily spot on)

view all 43,554 comments

landofan41 the willow lyrics😭😭

ynfan41 your honour i love them

lilymhe you’re still my wife, right?

⤷ yourusername forever and always, baby

⤷ alex_albon Crazy to see how people forget they have boyfriends at home…

ynfan42 THESE ARE NOW MY PARENTS!!

ynfan43 i guess being delulu works out in the end

landofan42 he’s the king of her heart (i’m sorry but i had to make the taylor reference)

francisca.cgomes now we can finally go on double dates!!

⤷ yourusername we could always go on a date alone

⤷ landonorris I think we’ll stick just with the double date

ynfan44 they’re officially the best couple on the grid

#*ੈ✩༄ my works ! #lando norris #olivia rodrigo #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris fic #lando norris insta au #lando norris imagine #lando norris headcanons #lando norris one shot #lando norris au #lando norris instagram au #lando norris f1 #formula 1 #formula one #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one x you

[theostrophywife]

kiss with a fist | chapter eleven.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: 18 - one direction.

author's note: please enjoy my pookies in domestic bliss.

The streetlights casted shadows on the sidewalk as you climbed the steps to your childhood home. As you made your ascent, fresh flurries rained down from the winter sky, covering the quiet neighborhood in a blanket of snow. Beside you, Theo fidgeted with the hem of his cashmere jumper and roughly combed a hand through his curls for what seemed like the millionth time that evening. 

You slipped your fingers through his and squeezed. “Don’t be nervous, Teddy. They’re going to love you.” 

Theo shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the only tell signifying his nerves. Over the past few months, you became more and more attuned to your boyfriend’s body language. For someone who always had a sarcastic comment at his disposal, there were a lot of things that Theo conveyed without words. 

For example, you now knew that incessant tapping of his fingers meant that he was in dire need of a cigarette break, the slight clench of his jaw was a warning that someone was about to get their head bashed in for flirting with you, and that a tongue against the cheek meant to meet him in the broom closet immediately. Needless to say, you’d become an expert on reading Theodore Nott and right now, he was a never ending novel of nervousness. 

It didn’t surprise you. When you first invited him to Christmas dinner, Theo had grown so quiet that you actually checked his pulse to see if he was still alive. You were cuddled up in bed at your dorm when you sprung the question on him. It had only been two months since you officially started dating, but you knew without a doubt that you would be taking Theo home to meet your parents at some point. The only question was when. 

Then your mum had outright demanded that you bring him by for the holidays in her latest letter, which pretty much sealed the deal for you. Theo’s family wasn’t really big on celebrating Christmas given its origins, but his nonna had invited you to come to Triora for New Year’s, which you gladly accepted. She was as eager to meet you as your parents were to meet Theo. 

The two of you had taken each other’s news very differently. At first, you were nervous, but the excitement of learning more about your boyfriend's family offset the jitters. Theo, however, went into full psycho mode in the weeks leading up to his visit. He made you quiz him on traditional muggle festive activities, asked a million questions regarding your parents and their expectations, and even got special permission for an emergency shopping trip to muggle London so you could help pick clothes that were ‘boyfriend material.’

The boys had made fun of him incessantly, but Theo didn’t care one bit. He was on a mission to win your parents over and nothing was going to stand in his way. Pansy said it was the most work she’d ever seen him put into anything. Luna thought it was incredibly sweet, albeit a bit amusing to listen to you explain the concept of Santa Claus to your very confused boyfriend.

Said boyfriend now looked panicked as he peered inside of the black bag he’d brought along. “Are you sure I shouldn’t have sent a flower arrangement ahead of time? Or a bottle of vintage wine from the vineyard? I was going to, but I didn’t know what we were having for dinner and there’s truly nothing more embarrassing than paring the wrong wine with—”

You pulled him down by his scarf so that you were face to face. “Theo, this isn’t a soiree at Malfoy Manor. My family is as far from high society as you can possibly be. We’re just normal people. There’s no need to worry, babe.” 

“I really want them to like me,” he said softly. 

You grinned. “Well then use that famous charm of yours and win them over like you did with me.” 

“Yeah, but you were after my smoking hot body,” Theo responded sarcastically. “It’s harder when I don’t have that as an advantage.” 

He yelped when you slipped your cold hands underneath his jumper. Theo pried your fingers from his stomach before warming them up between his own. “See what I mean? You’re only using me for my perfectly sculpted abs.” 

“I’d like to lick those perfectly sculpted abs in my childhood bedroom at the end of the night, so make sure you make a good first impression in there.” 

“As if I don’t already have enough pressure on my shoulder,” he declared dramatically. “Now I have to swat your horny little hands away from me all night.” 

“Oh, please. Like I haven’t caught you adjusting yourself countless times since we left the train.” 

“It’s not my fault that my girlfriend’s absolutely fit, alright. The extremely short skirt doesn’t help either, love.” 

“I’m wearing tights, you pervert.” 

“Yeah, but when has that ever stopped me?” 

“Behave, Theodore. I promise to reward you after.”

Theo sighed and flicked your nose. “I am but your humble servant, cara mia.” 

You giggled and kissed his cheek. “Now come on, Teddy. Time to be a big boy and meet your girlfriend’s parents.” 

The minute you opened the door, the nostalgic smell of freshly baked cookies and pine filled your senses. Christmas had always been a special occasion in your household, so it wasn’t surprising at all to find the entire flat festively decorated. The foyer was covered in floor to ceiling with fairy lights and wreaths lined the narrow hallway while garland twined around the staircase into the second floor. Theo peered around in wonder, seemingly amused by the statues of glittery snowmen, red nosed reindeers, and the white bearded man carrying a sack of gifts. 

“Looks a bit like Dumbledore,” Theo said. 

You snorted before leading him into the living room. The fireplace was lined with stocking and lit with a flame that cast a soft, cozy glow upon the fresh pine tree, which was adorned with a combination of ornaments and other quirky trinkets that you had collected over the years. Underneath it sat a mountain of neatly wrapped gifts. 

“Is that you, bug?” called your father’s voice. 

Your parents emerged from the kitchen, walking hand in hand towards you and Theo. Your father offered your boyfriend a warm smile, while your mother sized him up like she did to her opponents in court. 

“This is the infamous boyfriend, then?” she asked with a raised brow. 

“What my wife means to say is that we’re very happy to meet you, Theodore. Y/N has told us so much about you.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N. Please, call me Theo.” Theo shook your father’s hand before handing your mother a bouquet of sunflowers. “Y/N told me that sunflowers are your favorite. I hope these are to your liking, Mrs. Y/L/N.” 

Your mum’s expression softened as she accepted the flowers. “These are quite lovely. Thank you, Theo.” She admired the sunflowers and smiled. “How did you manage to get your hands on these? They’re out of season for the winter.” 

“My family grows them in an enchanted greenhouse back at our vineyard. My nonna actually helped me pick them out. She said that a real gentleman never shows up empty handed,” Theo flashed a charming smile before pulling a fresh tub of gelato from his bag. “Which is why I’ve come with dessert as well.” 

“Flowers and ice cream?” Your father asked in an impressed tone. “Your nonna raised you well, young man.” 

You chuckled. “It’s gelato, dad. Calling it ice cream is practically a criminal offense in Teddy’s eyes.” 

Theo blushed at the nickname while your parents shared an amused look. “Well, Teddy,” your father playfully teased, “You can educate us poor English folk on the intricacies of gelato after dinner.” 

Calling the spread your mum had prepared dinner seemed like an understatement. She certainly didn’t hold back on preparations this year. All of the classics were there—prime rib, yorkshire pudding, praline chestnuts and sprouts, and roasted potatoes. While you enjoyed the food at Hogwarts, there was truly nothing like a home cooked meal. 

“Before we dig in,” your father started, “We have a little tradition in this house. Every Christmas, we go around the table and say a few things that we’re thankful for. You don’t have to participate if you don’t want to, but it’s been a bit of a ritual for us since Y/N forced us all to do it because she thought it would earn her more presents from Santa when she was five.” 

You flushed in embarrassment. Theo grinned at you like he’d just learned a life changing secret. “I’d love to participate. Maybe I’ll get extra gifts from Sandy Claws, too.” 

The cheeky bastard shot you a wink, which made your parents laugh. “It’s Santa Claus, Theodore.” 

“Potato, potato, amorina.”

With a fond eye roll, you clapped your hands together. “I’ll start us off then. I’m thankful for mum and dad. Loons, Pans, and the boys. Teddy, of course. And my last year at Hogwarts.” 

Your mother and father went next. In true mum fashion, the first thing she gave thanks for was her landslide win against another misogynistic barrister. She used a few colorful words to describe him, which made Theo’s eyes grow wide before he burst into laughter and whispered that he now understood where you got your attitude from. Dad’s declaration was considerably less vulgar, but very sweet and endearing nonetheless as he gushed about his two favorite girls. 

When it was Theo’s turn, you were surprised to find him a bit shy and nervous. You grabbed hold of his hand underneath the table and squeezed in reassurance. 

“I’m thankful for my wonderful girlfriend and her lovely parents for inviting me to Christmas dinner. I’m thankful for my friends and family, especially my crazy old nonna who regularly gets into screaming matches with the neighborhood pigeons. And…I’m thankful that I’ll be attending Cambridge in the fall.” 

“You got in?” you asked excitedly, nearly leaping off your chair. 

Theo nodded sheepishly, chuckling as you threw your arms around him and squealed. “Oh my god, Teddy. That’s amazing. I’m so excited for you!” 

“Congratulations, Theo,” your mum said. “You should be very proud of yourself.” 

“Well done, young man,” your dad added, clapping Theo on the back. “Well done indeed.” 

The rest of the dinner went smoothly. By the time dessert rolled around, Theo had completely won your parents over. You swore that he could’ve charmed the feathers off of a hippogriff. No one in the muggle or wizarding world was safe from the cheeky little grin of Theodore Nott. 

After gorging yourself on stracciatella, your parents were more than happy to pull out the embarrassing childhood pictures. A delighted Theo devoured every humiliating picture of you from your unfortunate bowl cut when you were three to the slight overalls obsession you had at age six. He beamed at a photo of you posing proudly with your Hogwarts letter. 

“That was a very special day for our little bug,” your father recounted fondly. “Professor McGonagall delivered the letter in person and explained that our baby girl was a witch.” 

Your mum smiled, recalling the memory. “Obviously, it was a lot to take in, but Minerva was incredibly patient. Neither one of us knew that magic was actually real, but I suppose that after the initial shock wore off, we weren’t really all that surprised. We always knew that Y/N was special.” 

Theo twined your fingers through his. “Yeah, she really is. Y/N has kept me on my toes since first year. I don’t think I would’ve tried this hard at school if it weren’t for her.” 

“Oh, we know,” Mum said with a chuckle. “She used to write letters about the infuriating Nott boy who kept taking the top spot in class. Imagine our surprise when she told us that the two of you had started dating.” 

“This one was adamant about meeting you properly,” your father chided as he wrapped an arm around your mother. “Said she wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t break our little girl’s heart.” 

“I assure you, I wouldn’t even dream of doing such a thing. Y/N has my heart in her hands and she has the power to do whatever she pleases with it.” 

You blushed furiously, but Theo didn’t even appear fazed. For him, this wasn’t an attempt to flatter or impress your parents. He was merely stating facts. 

“Smart answer, Theo.” Your mum said, nodding in approval. “We expected nothing less. It’s clear that you adore our daughter and vice versa. My husband and I are genuinely pleased to meet you and we’re looking forward to seeing more of you in the future.” 

Theo beamed and placed an arm around your shoulder. “I’ll be here for as long as she’ll have me.” 

You chuckled softly as your father sniffled a little, blinking away his teary eyed expression. “Well, we’ll leave you kids to it before dear old dad gets any more sentimental than he already is. Be sure to introduce Theo to Bandit, bug.” 

After you parted for the night, Theo turned over to you with a smile. “So, bug. Do I finally get to snoop around in your room?”

You sighed dramatically. “Fine, but not a word about my stuffies or else I’ll stupefy you and send you on the next train home.” 

“My lips are sealed, amore mio.” 

The door to your bedroom creaked slightly as you made your way inside. Theo followed closely behind and took in every detail. You looked around the room, trying to see it from your boyfriend’s perspective. 

The walls were painted a vivid sky blue color and all of your furniture came from a French vintage market, designed to fit perfectly with the overarching Marie Antoinette theme. There were gold stars painted on the ceiling, which you and your father had painted over the summer after your first year. It had taken the entire holiday since the Ravenclaw within you insisted on properly depicting an accurate star chart. 

Books littered every corner of the room, some neatly categorized in shelves and others strewn in every available nook and cranny to accommodate the overflow. This year you opted to arrange a small stack of your favorite novels, twining fairy lights through them and forming the perfect book lover’s festive tree. 

By far your favorite place in the whole world besides Hogwarts was the little bay window that faced west of your neighborhood. You had many fond memories from your childhood of curling up with a good book under the warmth of the setting sun. 

Theo made himself comfortable on the cushioned bench and stretched his long legs. He grabbed the stuffed raccoon perched on the windowsill and grinned.

“And who might this be?” 

You plucked your favorite stuffed animal from your boyfriend’s hands and settled into his lap. “Teddy, meet Bandit.” 

The edges of his lips quivered. “You named your stuffed raccoon Bandit?” 

“I realize it may not be up to your sophisticated standards, but keep in mind that I was two when I got him. Bandit was the best I could come up with.” 

“I’m not making fun,” Theo said, wrapping his arms around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “I happen to think it’s adorable. I bet you used to cuddle with him every night.” He poked Bandit’s fuzzy nose. “Sorry mate, but I’m afraid I’ve taken your spot and I’m quite loath to give it up.” 

“You do a lot more than cuddle with me, Theo.” 

Your boyfriend covered the stuffed raccoon’s ears. “Not in front of the stuffie, dear.” You rolled your eyes and swatted his hands away. “I’d apologize for her vulgar behavior, but I’m sure you’ve witnessed it far longer than I have.” 

“On second thought, I think I much prefer to cuddle with Bandit. He gives me a lot less sass.” 

Theo tilted your chin, grinning as he nuzzled his nose against yours. “You love my sass,” he whispered against your lips. 

“Not as much as I love your ass.” 

He chuckled as he pressed his lips against yours. You sighed as he kissed you deeply, your fingers automatically fisting the front of his cashmere sweater. Theo tasted like stracciatella and spearmint toothpaste and you smiled as his arms snaked around your waist while his tongue flicked against your bottom lip. 

Theo caressed the curve of your jaw and pulled away reluctantly. “As much as I love where this is heading, I’d like to give you your present before you maul me entirely.” 

You swatted his arm. “I don’t maul, Theodore.” 

“Maul, devour. Same difference. Now come on, love. It’s already past midnight, which means we can exchange gifts.” 

“Fine,” you sighed exasperatedly. 

In reality, you were more than excited to do your first exchange with your boyfriend. You walked over to your dresser and retrieved the neatly wrapped gift hidden within. The green and silver wrapping shimmered in the moonlight and was topped with a silk black ribbon. Theo grinned as he presented his gift, which was adorned in blue and gold paper. Sometimes it was scary how similar your minds worked. 

“You first, cara mia.” 

Theo watched as you carefully unwrapped the present. You pulled out a gray fleece jumper and chuckled when you saw the Cambridge crest embroidered on the front. It was identical to the one Theo had given you at the start of term, but with a more legible design. 

“I hope that this doesn’t make you think you’re getting your old jumper back.” 

“Of course not. I have long accepted that every one of my jumpers will end up in your greedy little hands.” You stuck your tongue out rather childishly while clutching the jumper, which made Theo chuckle. “That’s not all, my love. There’s another gift in there for you.” 

Sure enough, underneath the jumper was another smaller box wrapped in gold. The paper looked suspiciously lustrous. You wouldn’t have been surprised if it was made from actual gold. As soon as you saw the corner of the book, you nearly shrieked. 

“Theodore! You absolutely did not!” 

Theo smirked. “I absolutely did too.” 

In your hands was a first edition illustrated copy of Pride and Prejudice. It was bound in soft leather and had the original blue cover surrounded with golden peacock feathers. Aside from a few wears and tears, the book was in pristine condition. It felt almost sacrilegious to hold such a beautiful piece of literature in your hands. Especially since owning it had been your dream since you were a little girl. 

“How did you know?”

“The field trip to Edinburgh. I saw you looking at it in one of the bookshops.” 

“That was over a year ago,” you said in complete astonishment. “Back when we were still bitter enemies. I can’t believe you remembered.” 

“I remember everything about you, my love.” Theo smiled softly. “I’ll never forget the way your eyes lit up that day. I didn’t even think twice before buying it if it meant seeing you smile like that again.” 

Your eyes filled with tears. “It’s too much, Teddy. This must’ve cost a small fortune.” 

He shrugged. “What’s the point of being rich and handsome if I can’t spoil my girlfriend? Money isn’t an object, principessa. I’d gladly drain my vault at Gringott’s in exchange of making you happy.” Theo swiped a tear from the corner of your eyes. “Besides, the book is non-refundable so you better make sure to put it to good use.” 

The laugh that left your lips was slightly hoarse and your chest constricted with emotion as all of your affection for this sweet, wonderful boy threatened to spill over. 

“Ti amo, Theo.” 

“Ti amo cosi tanto, Y/N.” 

You kissed the tip on his nose and smiled at the blush warming Theo’s cheeks. “You know you’ve made it nearly impossible to follow that up, right?” 

“Why do you think I wanted to go first?” You swatted his arm, which only made him grin in response. “I’m kidding. I’m sure I’ll love your present.” 

You nodded, pushing the green and silver box towards him. Theo opened it slowly and lifted the lid. He immediately smiled when he saw the vinyls. After a trip to Camden Market, Theo had fallen in love with a record player and lugged the thing all the way back to school. The boys were fascinated by the muggle invention and played the few records Theo owned until they were scratched beyond belief. 

Theo shuffled through the Smiths, the Cure, the Clash and Fleetwood Mac with increasing excitement. When he pulled out the Queen record that you purposely saved for last, a fond expression settled over his features. 

“I think I knew I was in love with you the night you snuck me into the music room,” he said softly. “I suspected it for a while before that, but then I heard your cute little snort for the first time and I knew I was done for.” 

“Oh my god, Theo. You totally had a crush on me. How embarrassing.” 

Theo rolled his eyes affectionately. “Thank you, amore mio. I really do love it. I can’t wait to listen to all of them.” 

“There’s—um—another gift in there for you.” Your boyfriend raised a brow at your sudden nervousness. He moved the vinyls aside and found a golden badge carefully wrapped in black silk. A broom and wand was etched on the gilded surface as well as Theo’s name. Underneath it was the title ‘Sports Coordinator.’ 

“After the slug club dinner, Harry and I started working on something. We both agreed that the separation in this school is doing more harm than good, so we talked to a few people from different houses—Cassius, Hannah, Colin, Cho and a few others who felt the same way that we did. After meeting a few times, we proposed creating an inter house committee that basically acts as a student governing body that represents members of every house equally. We can all collaborate on making decisions regarding social events, academic clubs, and even school policies. McGonagall approved it just before break. We’re hosting our first official meeting when we get back. Pansy agreed to be social coordinator, naturally. Cassius wanted to be treasurer. Did you know he’s quite good at maths? The other upperclassmen will be involved as well, but we wanted to leave the officer positions to the younger years because they’ll be spearheading it after we leave.” 

You took a deep breath, anxiously fidgeting your fingers. “I was wondering…if you’d like to be the sports coordinator? I was thinking you could arrange the first interhouse quidditch game. I overheard you and the boys talking about it before.” Theo stared at you in absolute silence. “It’s alright if you don’t want to. I just thought maybe—”

The sentence was cut off as Theo took your face between his hands and kissed you more fiercely than he’d ever kissed you before, which was saying a lot. Your boyfriend was definitely not shy with physical displays of affection. It only took half a day for the rest of Hogwarts to know that you were officially dating after Theo kissed you in the middle of the Great Hall for everyone to see.

“Is that a yes?” you asked when he finally let you up to breathe. 

Theo pressed his forehead against yours and smiled. “Of course it’s a yes.” He took the badge and pinned it onto his jumper. “I’ll wear the badge proudly, my love.” 

You chuckled. “Sorry that my gift isn’t as good as a first edition Jane Austen novel.”

“Are you kidding? This is the best gift anyone’s ever given me. You single handedly created a new governing student body so that my friends and I and whoever comes after us won’t live in constant hate and judgment. You’re amazing, amore mio. I love that smart brain of yours.” 

“Merry Christmas, Teddy.” 

Theo gathered you into his arms and kissed the top of your head as you both looked out the window to watch the snow fall softly over the quiet neighborhood. 

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

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#WHEN IS IT MY TURN HM #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theo nott smut #theo nott imagine #theo nott x y/n #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott smut #theodore nott imagine

[daisynik7]

The Apple of His Eye

Chapter 2: Friends In Low Places

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Word Count: ~4.9k

cw: alcohol consumption, drunken behavior, karaoke, our couple gets handsy, FLUFF, a few mentions of popular songs in the English language

Summary: You meet Nanami’s friends for the first time. Plenty of alcohol is consumed and you all end up at a karaoke bar.  

Author's Notes: This is the second fluffy side story for A Bento For Kento! I personally love karaoke myself, and I truly believe that Kento does too! I rewrote this to omit most of the English-language songs that I originally mentioned (I name-dropped A LOT before), just because I don't think they'd sing only these type of songs doing karaoke in Japan. Also, this is partially inspired by this Youtube playlist, which was one of the first pieces of fan-made media that got me into Nanami LOL. Anyways, thank you for reading! Divider credit to @/saradika.

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Near the end of October, Nanami receives a call from Gojo. They talk and text often, but this phone call in particular is a special one. “Nanamin! How’s it going buddy?” Gojo’s voice is peppy, as usual.

“I’m fine. What is this about?”

“I’m taking Shoko out for an early birthday celebration tomorrow night. She wants to go to this sake bar she likes. You in?”

“Tomorrow night?” Nanami confirms. 

“Yeah. Oh, and bring your girlfriend too,” Gojo adds cheerfully. “I’d love to meet her. Shoko is curious too.”

Nanami makes a strangled noise in his throat before asking, “Why?”

His friend chuckles. “Because it’s been three months since you started dating and I still know nothing about her. I’d like to find out who your mystery woman is.”

“I told you. She’s Nakamura’s older sister.”

“Yes, yes, I know all about the bentos and love notes, blah blah blah. But I want to hang out with her, get to know her better! She sounds like an angel if she puts up with you.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! But seriously, bring her out with us. I already know Shoko and her will get along well. It’s only me she has to worry about,” he laughs mischievously.

Nanami tenses up, already annoyed at the type of shenanigans his colleague will pull out of his sleeves. “Gojo, I will not subject my girlfriend to any of your harassment.”

“I won’t harass her!” he whines. “Have I ever harassed any of your other girlfriends?”

“I’ve never introduced you to any of my other girlfriends.”

“Exactly. My track record is clean. C’mon. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

He takes a minute to contemplate. Introducing his girlfriend to Shoko isn’t the problem. He’s always had a respectable relationship with the laid-back doctor. However, exposing his sweet darling to the incorrigible Satoru Gojo…he shudders thinking about all the ways it could go wrong. Deep down, he knows nothing serious will happen. As much grief as he gives Gojo, Nanami still considers him one of his closest friends. However, he knows him too well; there’s no doubt Gojo will try to find ways to embarrass him in front of her. He finds pleasure in doing this, seeing Nanami’s face turn bright red after recounting one or several stories of their past together. 

He understands it’s an important step in any relationship to become acquainted to one another’s friends. He has already met hers, along with her immediate family. So far, Nanami has not introduced her to anyone in his life. His parents live too far to visit and as far as friends go, they are few and far between. Maybe this is a good opportunity to show her this part of his life. 

Eventually, he agrees. “Fine. Text me the details for tomorrow and we’ll meet you and Ieiri there.”

“Yay! Can’t wait. I’ll start making a list of questions to ask her. I’ll get Shoko to make a list too.”

Scowling into the phone, Nanami mutters, “I take it back, we’re not going anymore.”

“Kidding, kidding! Okay, see you tomorrow. Byeeeee!”

After they hang up, Nanami buries his face in hands. What did he get themselves into?

~~~

Saturday night, you and Nanami hold hands as you walk from the train station towards the sake bar. In your other hand is a small gift bag with a bottle of good Japanese whiskey that you picked up last night. Yesterday, your boyfriend informed you that you’ll be meeting two of his colleagues: Shoko Ieiri, who was his upperclassman at Jujutsu High, and the infamous Satoru Gojo. You’ve heard stories about this man, not only from Nanami, but from your brother Ren, who is currently Gojo’s student. Enough tales to have a vague idea of his personality. Playful, comical, a bit naughty, and constantly pestering your boyfriend. 

You have a strong feeling that the two of you will get along great. 

As you approach the entrance to the bar, you feel Nanami’s grip tighten around you. He turns to you with a clenched jaw and nervous look in his eyes. “I apologize in advance for anything outrageous Gojo does tonight. Please don’t think poorly of me after this encounter.”

You giggle, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “Honey, don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic? I’m sure he isn’t as awful as you say he is. In fact, he sounds fun.”

He sighs. “Okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you though. Once we enter this establishment, there’s no turning back. We are essentially hostages under his control the rest of the night.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, but before you finish your question, he leads you into the bar, amused and now slightly spooked at your boyfriend’s ominous warning. As you weave through the crowd of people, Nanami seemingly knowing where to go, you recall yesterday’s conversation. 

After Nanami informed you about Ieiri’s birthday celebration, he mentioned, “It might not just be the sake bar. Since it’s Ieiri’s birthday, we may be out the whole night. Knowing Gojo, he’ll drag us all over Tokyo.”

Over the past three months of dating, Nanami would drop little hints about what he and Gojo would do whenever they hang out. He’s mentioned drunk karaoke before. Singing is definitely not one of Nanami’s hobbies, at least when he’s sober. Your man doesn’t sing in the shower, not even in the car. Personally, you love karaoke, so naturally, you’re curious and excited to see where the night will end up, especially with Gojo supposedly calling the shots. The thought of Nanami doing belting out ballads fills you with glee. 

At a table near the back, there is a pretty woman with long brown hair sitting next to a taller man with snow white hair. He wears dark, stylish sunglasses over his eyes, despite being indoors. They’re chatting, the man animated as the woman listens, pausing when the two of you approach them. “Nanamin! You made it!” Gojo stands up to pat Nanami’s shoulder, Ieiri greets you with a kind smile. 

“Hello, Gojo, Ieiri. This is my girlfriend.” Nanami introduces you as you shake their hands.

“So nice to meet you!”

“Glad to finally meet you too,” Gojo responds with a polite grin.

After formally greeting Ieiri, you hand the bag to her, “Happy birthday. I hope you like it. Kento told me you don’t like receiving gifts, but I figured this might be something we can enjoy together sometime.”

She eyes you curiously before reaching into the bag. When she pulls it out to reveal the liquor, she brightens. “Oh, I like you. I like her, Nanami. Thank you so much, I love it. We’ll definitely be drinking this sometime, maybe even tonight.”

“Tonight? Shoko, we just got here!” Gojo exclaims. “We don’t know what the night has in store for us yet.” As you all take your seats, he gives you a wink with that last statement. 

Ieiri recommends ordering the flights, which come with four different types of sake. She gets one for each person besides Gojo; she orders him a non-alcoholic Lychee beverage while he orders food for the table. As you wait for everything to arrive, you make small talk with each other. Nanami is quiet, which isn’t unusual, but you still want to check on him. Under the table, you reach your hand to his knee, giving him a squeeze. He wraps his fingers with yours, squeezing back, indicating that he’s fine.

The beverages arrive first. The four of you cheers to Ieiri’s birthday and drink. You are by no means an expert on sake, but this one is the smoothest you’ve ever tasted, going down like water. Ieiri finishes it fast, then grabs hold of the second, holding it up at the center of the table. “Ready for the second one?” she asks, raising her brow at you and Nanami.

“Shoko, aren’t you supposed to sip on it slowly?” Gojo hides a little naughty smile behind his Lychee mocktail. 

Suddenly, Nanami downs his sake and raises his other glass towards her. “Cheers, birthday girl.” She smiles and they both chug their second shot, easily. 

This is going to be an interesting night.

~~~

Satoru Gojo is no doubt a powerful Jujutsu Sorcerer. Arguably, the most powerful Jujutsu Sorcerer in the world. Nanami can confidently acknowledge that about his friend. 

However, Satoru Gojo possesses another power, unrelated to Jujutsu Sorcery. This power is constantly used on Nanami whenever the two go out together. For some reason, Gojo has this innate ability to get Nanami drunk.

Nanami still can’t explain it. Maybe it’s Gojo’s lively personality, or his friend’s dislike for alcohol that causes him to drink it all himself. The main reason is probably because it’s fun going out with Gojo. Nanami can let loose around him. There’s no judgement; he can let go of all his inhibitions for the night. He knows Gojo will not think differently of him the next morning, even if he does tease him a little bit. Even with Ieiri can Nanami put his guard down. He knows these two quite well and feels comfortable with them. 

Since dating his sweetheart, he hasn’t felt any desires to get drunk with her. Being around her is fun enough sober; the idea of getting intoxicated with her has never even crossed his mind. But when he’s with his friends, he enjoys drinking. He has fun with them, especially when he loosens up a bit. And to be honest, he loveskaraoke. He’ll deny it like no other when Gojo teases him, but he can honestly admit that it’s one of his favorite activities to do. And the only way to get him to do it is if he has a few shots in him. 

He wants to show his girlfriend this side of him. He knows that like Gojo, his sweetie will not judge. In fact, he thinks she’ll enjoy seeing him like this. He’s curious about her too. What is she like when she’s tipsy? Does she like karaoke as much as he does? Will they take care of each other if they’re both hungover the next day? What song can they do a duet to?

On his last shot, Nanami starts to feel his cheeks warm up. Their food hasn’t come out, so drinking on an empty stomach is hitting him harder than he expects. He glances at his girlfriend’s flight, noticing she’s only on her third. Smirking, he teases, “Can’t keep up?”

“I’m not used to drinking sake! But I’ll catch up, don’t worry!” 

Her determination is cute. She is cute. He’s tempted to scrunch her adorable cheeks together and kiss her forehead, but luckily, he remembers he’s in front of his friends. 

“Don’t feel pressured to keep up with them! Believe it or not, Shoko can outdrink Nanami, and that’s saying something,” Gojo explains, casually sipping his juice. 

Ieiri, who has since ordered her second flight, raises a glass with a proud smile and downs it. “One of my many skills.” 

Nanami orders another flight just as the food arrives to the table. Gojo ordered a plethora of sushi and appetizers that looks delicious. Making sure to get some substance in his belly before he continues to consume more alcohol, Nanami fills his plate with nigiri, gyozas, and karaage. He glances over at his sweetie, who begins to wobble slightly in her seat.

“Honey, are you okay?” he asks her quietly as Ieiri and Gojo talk amongst themselves.  

“Of course!” She stuffs a piece of nigiri in her mouth, smiling. “Why?”

“You’re swaying a bit.” He brushes his fingers against her cheek, which is hot to the touch.

“Oh, I get like this sometimes when I drink. Doesn’t happen much with wine, but I guess it does with sake.” She shrugs, returning to her plate of food, unfazed. 

Gojo stares at them, smirking, “Nanamin, it’s cute how concerned you are for your girlfriend. Reminds me of that one time.” 

Nanami groans, throwing back another shot. “Oh great, here we go.”

“What time?” his girlfriend asks, her curiosity and delight so obvious. 

“Do you know that the reason I don’t consume alcohol is because of this guy right here.” He points to Nanami, for emphasis. “Back in our early 20s, Nanami wanted to test out how much liquor he could handle, so he made me take shots with him until he got good and drunk. Mind you, this was the first time I’ve ever had alcohol. Unfortunately, my tolerance is very low, so after consuming as many shots as him, which was ten at this point, I was pretty much shit faced. I couldn’t even stand up straight! I think I was talking in tongues or something and little Nanamin here got so worried, he was calling everyone about what to do. Poor guy was in tears, thinking he killed me.”

“I almost did. I still feel guilty about it to this day,” Nanami interjects.

“He made me swear off alcohol after that. Lectured me about how bad it is for me, especially. I think seeing me puke my guts out traumatized him. But it turns out, he was right. I think it fucks up some of my techniques, so I just steer clear of it completely. Plus, I think it tastes icky.” Gojo laughs with a wave of his hand.

Nanami’s girlfriend has a big grin on her face. “I like that story! Got any embarrassing ones?”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty. Has he ever told you about the time I convinced him to go through a haunted house with me? Shoko was there too, she can attest to all of this!”

Nanami rolls his eyes, smiling. He continues to sip on his last glass of sake as they lean in close together to share stories and laughter. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but he feels a pleasant warmth in his chest. Seeing the people in his life gathered like this is something he’s secretly dreamed about for a while now, and it’s actually happening. Before he gets too sentimental, he finishes the rest of his liquor and reaches over to stuff his mouth with another piece of sushi. 

Ieiri ends up ordering a third flight, but only gets through two glasses. She gives the remaining sake to Nanami, who is now tipsy. Maybe even close to being drunk. All he knows for sure is that he feels giddy. He rests his head onto his girlfriend’s shoulder, sighing. She giggles as she caresses his knee. “You good, Kento?”

Gojo, who is checking out for them, smirks. “I think he’s a little tipsy.”

“You’re losing your touch, Nanami. I still don’t feel a thing,” Ieiri claims. 

“Hey, it’s not his fault that your stomach is an unending abyss for liquor,” Gojo teases. 

Nanami mutters, “Let’s call it a night. I’m ready to sleep.”

“Oi oi oi, don’t even think about going home yet. The night is still young and there’s a karaoke bar down the street that’s calling for us.”

“We’ve also got an entire bottle of Japanese whiskey to consume,” Ieiri adds, holding up the gift bag. “Can’t let this bad boy go to waste.”

Nanami responds, “You can’t possibly be implying that we finish that whole bottle tonight, right? Shoko, that’s impossible. No way.”

Ieiri and Gojo grin simultaneously, staring at Nanami. “Someone is drunk,” Ieiri snickers.

Gojo faces Nanami’s girlfriend, who has been laughing the past few minutes, explaining, “Whenever Kento is drunk, he starts calling us by our first names. It’s actually quite sweet.”

“Shut up, Satoru. Leave me alone,” he blurts out.

Shoko and Satoru cackle as they get up from the table. 

“So, karaoke then?”

~~~

It takes less than five minutes to walk to the karaoke bar. You hear the bass bumping from the outside as Nanami holds your hand, tie loosened and sleeves rolled up his forearms. As Gojo pays for a private room, Nanami leans in, whispering, “I love you, baby.” His mouth is warm against your ear, the sweet scent of alcohol lingering on his breath.

You giggle. “I love you too, Kento.”

“No, seriously. I love you. You’re literally an angel. My sweet angel.” He is just too cute right now. You laugh louder. “Kento, you’re drunk.”

“Maybe I’m a bit tipsy, but I promise I mean everything I’m saying. I love you so fucking much.” This man is going to be the death of you. You’re quite buzzed yourself, but you start feeling drunk off his affectionate words. You give him a quick peck on the cheek before Gojo leads you all into a private room. It’s dark inside, with only blue and purple mood lighting on the ceiling. Gojo stands by the karaoke machine, trying to get everything set up while the rest of you sit on the couch. Nanami slumps beside you and leans his head back. A waiter comes in with several glasses and a whole pitcher of water. Ieiri pours it into a glass and hands it to you, smiling. “We should stay hydrated if we’re going to be singing.”

You return her smile and give your thanks, taking a sip before passing it to Nanami. He shakes his head and declines. “No. No water. Need alcohol.”

Ieiri chuckles as you push the glass of water in front of his lips. “Just drink some water first.”

He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. “No.”

“Don’t bother, Nanami is still stubborn even when he’s drunk,” Gojo comments.

You lean close to him, begging, “Please, baby? For me?” You slide your hand on his thigh.

With his arms still crossed, he opens his mouth as you tip the glass to his lips. You watch him take a couple of gulps before setting the drink on the table, satisfied with your tactic. Gojo chortles as he takes a seat beside Ieiri. “I stand corrected. Now, which song should we sing first?”

Nanami stands up, reaching for one of the microphones on the table. “Satoru. You know what song I want.”

“On it.” Gojo flips through the music catalog until he finds what he’s looking for, then enters a series of numbers on the remote. 

Ieiri relaxes into the couch, the same pleasant smile on her face. “Hope you’re ready for this.”

Interested and slightly nervous, you sit back with her to enjoy whatever show your boyfriend is about to perform for you. A familiar tune begins to play, and after a couple of beats, you recognize it as the song Rock Your Body thumping through the speakers. Nanami sways his hips side-to-side in tandem with the rhythm as he sings, “Don’t be so quick to walk away, dance with me! I wanna rock your body, please stay, dance with me!”

Gojo leans forward to look at you, yelling, “He always picks this as his first song! Always!” He also begins moving his body to the music while Ieiri nods her head to it. 

This might be one of the best things you’ve ever seen. Kento Nanami, your boyfriend, dancing and singing to a pop hit from the y2k era. No video could ever do this justice, so you just simple watch and enjoy with your own eyes. On the second chorus, he turns to you, a goofy expression on his face, tickling you under your chin, serenading, “I wanna rock your body, please stay, dance with me!” Gojo and Ieiri let out a loud whoop as you giggle, grabbing his hips while he continues to swing them in front of you. Gojo lets out a whistle as Ieiri cracks up. 

When the song ends, you all applaud as he takes a bow. Out of breath, he puts the mic down on the table and chugs the rest of the water in the glass before collapsing back into his seat. With the biggest grin, you exclaim, “That was so good, Kento! I’m so impressed!”

He gives you that same goofy grin as he slurs, “Was pretty good, huh? Should we take more shots?”

Before you even notice, Ieiri has lined up three glasses on the table and is pouring the Japanese whiskey. She delivers a shot to Nanami, who throws it back immediately. You and her cheers before drinking it. “Let’s do the next one,” she says, placing her hand on your back. “I know what song to do.”

You both belt out another pop hit from the 90s, singing and dancing while on the couch. Gojo chants along without a mic as Nanami bops to the music. Next, Gojo gives a dazzling performance of a classic 80s rock ballad, complete with all the theatrics, including an air guitar solo. After that, him and Nanami do a duet to an R&B song, which involves more hip swaying from Nanami directed at you. Gojo attempts a body roll towards Ieiri, who politely and firmly refuses before taking another shot. 

The room is buzzing with chaotic energy from sober Gojo and the rest of you drunkards. Ieiri’s composure begins to waver as she stands up to belt out Girls Just Wanna Have Fun with Gojo, who twirls her around the room until she promptly tells him to stop. “I’m going to yak if you keep spinning me, Satoru!”

They perform another song together, with Gojo hogging the mic as Ieiri tries to grab it from him, shrieking the lyrics loudly. “Shoko, there are other mics on the table! Stop trying to take mine!” he yells. She giggles, finally taking another mic to continue singing.

You and Nanami cuddle in the corner, unable to keep yourselves off each other, especially after seeing him sway his hips so many times tonight. As the other two sing, you and your boyfriend share sloppy kisses while hands roam over each other’s bodies. As you begin to unbutton his dress shirt from the top, you start kissing his neck, to which he lets out a loud moan. 

Finally being noticed by Gojo, he yells into the mic, “Hey, stop it you too! Gross!”

Ieiri lets out a shriek, also shouting into the mic, “Stop groping each other and sing another song with me!” she demands, beckoning you. 

Stumbling a bit, you get up to stand next to her, but Nanami’s grip is on your wrist, holding you in place. “No, don’t leave. Let’s kiss s’more.”

“Kento, I want to sing another song with my new best friend!” Ieiri whines. Gojo chimes in, “Me too! I want to duet with my new bestie!”

Your boyfriend grunts, eventually loosening his hold. With a big smile on your face, you walk towards your new friends and search through the catalog together, deciding on I Wanna Dance with Somebody. Nanami lets out a loud huff right before the music starts. They giggle behind their hands. “He’s so jealous. He wants to keep you all to himself.” 

The three of you prance around the room, singing, “Oh, I wanna dance with somebody! I wanna feel the heatwith somebody!” 

Nanami scowls in the corner with his foot tapping to the beat. You break out of whatever line dance you’re doing to approach him, bopping your head, trying to coax a smile out of him. His expression is glum, but you see his lips twitch slightly. You take his arm, trying to convince him to join you, which he refuses at first. Not being able to resist much longer, he starts swaying with you as you lead him to the dance party a few feet away. Gojo and Ieiri rejoice as all four of you start shouting the last lines of the song. With everyone panting like they just ran a marathon, you all mutually decide to do one final round to end the night. Gojo, who seems perky as ever, chooses another pop hit. 

“Shoko, record me.” She retrieves her phone as Gojo points to the camera. “Utahime, this is for you, babe!” As he continues to serenade the camera, not even needing to look at the lyrics on screen, you hear Ieiri chuckle under her breath. “She’s going to hate this.”

You and Nanami sit together, fingers interlocked. He nuzzles his face into your neck as he asks, “What song should we sing, honey?” He hasn’t had any more shots since the first one, so his speech isn’t as slurred.

“I don’t know, what did you have in mind?”

“I like that one song. The one you’re always singing to in the shower,” he hums. 

“Ha, so you noticed how obsessed I am with that song right now?”

“It’s cute. I like hearing you sing it.” He rubs his nose into your neck.

Butterflies flutter in your belly. Even after dating for a few months now, you still get flustered by Nanami’s sweet words. “Okay, let’s do it.”

When they finish, you already have the code for the song entered. A smooth ballad starts playing as you and Nanami stand up, ready to duet together. Ieiri squeals, “I love this song!”

Nanami performs the first part with enthusiasm, causing Gojo to heckle, “This is too slow and serious!”

“Shut up, Satoru,” Nanami scolds before he continues.

You explain, “He wanted to this one because he likes hearing me sing it in the shower!”

Gojo smirks, holding his hands up in surrender. “Got it. I’ll say no more.” Then, he whispers something in Ieiri’s ear. Whatever he mentions makes the other woman smile, glancing at you with a knowing look. 

After Nanami finishes the chorus, it’s your turn. From the corner of your eye, you see Nanami gaze at you lovingly as you sing, moving along to the music. You turn towards him beaming as you sing the chorus together, in sync. When it’s done, you receive a standing ovation from the audience. Nanami pulls you in by the waist and kisses you on the lips, resulting in even louder applause.

“Okay lovebirds, you can go home now. I’ve kept you hostage long enough,” Gojo laughs. He points his thumb over to Ieiri. “This one probably wants to go out to another bar and drink more.”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s my birthday and you’re treating. I’m taking full advantage of this.”

As you all exit the karaoke bar, Gojo approaches Nanami, patting him on the back. As the two men converse, you ask Ieiri in a hushed voice, “What did Gojo whisper to you earlier when we were singing?”

She smiles softly, replying, “Oh, that. He said that Nanami is whipped.” 

“Hey, Nanami is the one who suggested that song, not me!”

Before you can protest any further, she says, “He also said that he’s happy for him.”

That catches you off guard. You pause, not knowing how to react. She laughs. “Kento is rather smitten by you, and I can see why. You two are great together.”

Flustered once again, you respond quietly, “That’s really nice. Thank you.”

“Thank you for coming out for my birthday. It’s always fun making a new friend.” She glances at Gojo and adds, “Expect a lot more invitations from this guy.”

You give her a big smile. “I can’t wait.”

~~~

Gojo wraps an arm around Nanami’s shoulders as they walk behind the other two, making their way out of the karaoke bar. “Thanks for coming out tonight, buddy. This was so much fun.”

“Thanks for the invite. It was a lot of fun,” Nanami admits, sober now.

“I really like her. Your girlfriend. She’s really nice and fun. Total opposite of you,” Gojo jokes. Nanami tries to shrug his friend’s arm off his shoulders to no avail. 

He continues. “In all seriousness, I’m really happy for you. You seem to be in a much better mood these days. I told you all you needed was to get laid!”

This time, Nanami successfully shoves him off as his friend laughs. Before he walks faster to be next to his girlfriend, Gojo utters, “You really deserve this, Kento. You deserve to be happy.”

He pauses to face him, looking at him with a small smile. His mind goes back to the conversation they had a week before he met the woman of his dreams. Nanami had voiced his concerns to Gojo about dating as a Jujutsu Sorcerer. He made up all these rules in his head, forbidding himself to date in order to protect his heart. Of all the people, it was Gojo who was the voice of reason. It was his best friend who convinced him to go for it. And it ended up being the best decision of his life. 

Nanami reaches his hand towards Gojo’s shoulder and gives it a firm clasp. His friend’s eyes widen, even hidden behind the stylish sunglasses. “Thank you, Satoru.” He doesn’t elaborate further. He knows that Gojo understands. 

Gojo’s lip quivers, either from amusement or sentimentality. Either way, he returns to his signature smirk almost instantly. “Let’s hang out again soon, okay?”

They say their goodbyes, Gojo and Ieiri turning to walk to another bar as Nanami and his girl head to the train station. On the ride back, she rests her head against him with her eyes closed. They stay like this in silence, listening only to the sound of the train gliding through the tracks. He entwines his fingers with hers, giving her a little squeeze. As much fun as the night was, these are the little moments that bring him to a state of pure bliss. He’s happy. Truly, utterly, irrevocably happy.

And he deserves it.

Taglist: @moonmalice @bloombb @strawberry1042

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami fluff #kento nanami #kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #a bento for kento #the apple of his eye series

[somehow-a-human]

The ineffables fell in love, and God & Satan decided to make a bet on true love.

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY

Okay so, this is kind of a crack theory. But if this blog is for anything, it's for divulging my crack theories, and not feeling bad about it. My other blog is where I act like a properly sane person.

I have had a lot of nebulous thoughts that led to this theory but there was one bit of dialogue that tied it all together for me, that we will discuss at the very end. I'm going to start by laying out each of my *Clues* for you below, and we'll tie all my threads together by the end. Shall we begin?

Sanctuary Lights

Warlock, Adam, and most interestingly Maggie all have a single red light displayed on their right hand side of their "rooms". The symbolism of the right hand side implies the sacred, good, right, and stable. It's also where we find Aziraphale in reference to Crowley when they are balance and harmonious, Aziraphale is on Crowley's right.

A sanctuary light, is a light that shines before the altar of sanctuaries in many jewish and christian places of worship. A lit Sanctuary Lamp signifies the presence of God in the tabernacle that contains the Eucharist, and are traditionally red.

It's interesting that these three characters are linked via this specific visual. The assumed anti-christ, the actual anti-christ, and the local record shop owner? All of whom were somewhat under the watchful eyes of Crowley and Aziraphale at some point, but more-so Aziraphale. The right hand sidedness of the lights is initially confusing as you might expect Adam's to be on the left given he is the son of Satan, but we do know at the end of season one that he isn't good or bad, but rather, very human. What is this telling us about Maggie? I am a "Greasy Johnson is Jesus" truther but my mind wanted to go, "Oh maybe Maggie is Jesus!"

Aziraphale & Crowley's Angelic Playlist

Not Aziraphale and Crowley's Earthly Playlist, no no no, their Angelic Playlist.

These songs definitely tell a story. They are full of heartbreak, and longing, misunderstanding and disagreement, all while flowing with an undertow of deep love. And don't even get me started on The Book of Love. I have loved that song for so long and when I saw that was one of Neil's 3 picks for this playlist I did tear up a bit.

These songs no doubt illustrate the final 15 minutes. Aziraphale wants to leave, he needs to go to heaven to fix things, to protect humanity, and Crowley is hurt, he wants Aziraphale to run away with him. But, could they also mirror something else? Could they mirror Crowley and Aziraphale's disagreement before the Great War and the Fall? I mean it is their Angelic playlist afterall. It could have very easily been their any-other-adjective playlist.

In the Before the beginning scene we are shown, Angel!Crowley wants to stand up for the universe, and protect his creations, and Aziraphale wants to put his head down and hide. Angel!Crowley tried to do what he thought was right, and it resulted in a boiling pool of sulphur. He doesn't think Aziraphale can succeed at what he has already failed to do. This time, Aziraphale is the one who wants to stand up to Heaven and protect creation and humanity, and Crowley knows what that looks like, so he just wants to run and keep Aziraphale safe.

Maybe that's why the final fifteen hurts so much, even if they might not remember it well, because maybe they've been through this before, before the beginning.

Magic shop Ventriloquist Dummies

Do you see the resemblance here? I really wish we could read their name tags clearly, I feel like that would give us a ton of information, and with time, hopefully we'll get that opportunity. And we do have information that each doll is named and they apparently had enough information for each of them and their dress that it warranted a spreadsheet so it must've been detailed and important. You can read that in this tweet from Mickey Ralph's twitter:

From Mickey Ralph, Good Omens graphic designer's twitter: "I need a list of all the dummies and their names with as much information as possible for each of them. I think it would be best to have a photo of each of them and establish some kind of spreadsheet so that we can make sure the dressers put the right names on the right dummies"

It has been vaguely stated the likenesses of the dolls was not purposeful here:

But I'd like to posit a guess that maybe this answer just means they didn't create the dolls to look like A & C, but maybe found ones that looked like them.

Do the dolls mimic the hierarchy of God and heaven? Why are there two Crowley's? Why is Muriel so far up? Was she a high ranking angel before she was possibly demoted and became a 37th order scrivner?

@noneorother has a more in depth analysis of the puppets here, if you'd like to read their take.

"Enough to Make you Believe in True Love?"

This dialogue is what set off the chain reaction that led to my ultimately writing this post. Don't remember this quote? It's easy to miss and seemingly unimportant. Just after Gabriel recovers his memories and Shax accuses Beelzebub of being a traitor we get this:

Beelzebub: "I didn't collaborate with Heaven, anymore than Gabriel collaborated with Hell. I just found something that mattered more to me than choosing sides" Maggie: "That's really sweet" Nina: "Enough to make you believe in true love?"

Maggie and Nina who are still in the bookshop and watching these events unfold have been silent, but finally share these two lines. And I finally noticed, it's kind of a weird thing for Nina to say to Maggie, no? Why wouldn't Maggie believe in true love? Why does Nina think Maggie wouldn't believe in true love? We've seen Maggie pining over Nina and saying she's in love with her earlier in the season so why might a romantic who's never even talked to the woman she claims to be in love with not believe in true love, and why might her and Nina have discussed that before?

Is this little aside a conversation really being had by Nina and Maggie?

The Job Bet

That's why he's perfect for the bet! This is the final piece to my puzzle before I wrap up my ramblings and try to coherently tell you how they fit together. God and Satan make a bet, to see if Job is really truly righteous, and loves God, even if She takes away everything she's given him. They aren't above making bets about their creations, and taking everything away from them, testing them to destruction.

Conclusion

Let me weave you a web... The Starmaker, and Aziraphale meet in what we see is the first scene of season two. Maybe in the time before the fall they become close, and fall in love. Angels shouldn't have free will so that shouldn't be possible right? God and Lucifer!Satan? (maybe?) take notice and talk about it, maybe how they did with Job? Maybe they disagree about true love. Maybe God insists that in the ineffable plan, Crowley and Aziraphale will always end up together no matter what. Satan disagrees, they can be driven apart. They make a deal, a bet. The fall is inevitable, its ineffable, so they ensure Crowley and Aziraphale end up on either side of the factions, God lets Satan destroy everything they have, and then they'll see...

Fast forward to The Great War, the Starmaker doesn't really want to rebel like the other angels but gets swept up on their side of things, on the losing side, maybe with a bit of divine or demonic intervention. All he ever did was ask questions! He and Aziraphale are separated. Later, the Serpent of Eden slithers up next to the Angel of the Eastern Gate and strikes up a conversation. They don't remember each other, maybe a vague impression of familiarity, but the demon can't help but be drawn to the angel.

God and Satan we now know must chat about the goings on of Earth, making bets about Job and all that. That's at least my possible explanation for why Nina and Maggie have those weird lines during the Ineffable Bureaucracy reveal. Maybe God and Satan popped in to check on their bet and see what was happening with their stupid free wheeling creations?

Despite everything Aziraphale and Crowley are still together after all this time, and they do love each other. But they can always continue to be tested, even to destruction, or so they may believe.

Hey look, I'm not saying any of this is at all accurate but it was fun to come up with hehe.

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens 2 #crowley x aziraphale #good omens theories #crowley #michael sheen #aziraphale #david tennant #good omens clues #good omens theory #good omens clue #good omens crack theory #you dont have to take this seriously #like at all i wont be disappointed #but it was fun to write

[it-happened-one-fic]

However Many Songs - Idia (Glorious Masquerade)

Author Notes: So, I've been having a lot of fun reading Glorious Masquerade and I saw an opening and received encouragement from friends to just go ahead and write some fics for this event. This one is Idia's and I actually didn't have a specific song I listened to while writing this. It was really just some my Idia playlist instead. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ sfw/ Glorious Masquerade/ romance/ fluff

Word Count: 840

I glanced over at Idia, who was currently looking around nervously at the slew of unfamiliar faces that surrounded us. It was painfully obvious that the young man was nervous, and I had no doubts that his outfit only made matters worse.

It was sad, though, to see everyone else enjoying themselves, even if some of them would never admit it, while Idia seemed perfectly miserable. But then a social, of all things, probably seemed like hell itself to the socially anxious young man.

I found myself shifting over so that I was standing next to him and waiting until his darting gaze finally settled on me. I smiled slightly at the young man who peered at me with an oddly wary confusion as I began to speak, “It really was nice of them to give everyone such fancy outfits.”

I gestured vaguely to Rollo as I spoke, and Idia stared at me for just another moment in silence. He snorted though, seemingly relaxing at my presence as he rolled his eyes at my words, “I guess ‘fancy’ is one word for this get-up.”

I frowned at his sarcastic tone, swatting him lightly on his arm, “They’re nice clothes, Idia. Even if you don’t like them.”

I watched as he actually grinned at my words, twisting to face me more fully. “They’re expensive clothes,” He corrected in a smugly amused tone before gesturing mockingly towards himself as he continued, “You can’t seriously look at this collar and call it ‘nice.’”

My eyes fell to the frilly collar in question before my gaze lifted back to Idia’s face, where I could see a genuine, if arrogant, smile on his face. It was one of the few real smiles he’d worn during this entire trip, and here we were at the tail end of it all.

“Alright, the collar is a bit much… But you do look nice, Idia, even if you don’t think so,” My words seemed to catch him off-guard. Causing his bright yellow eyes to widen as his mocking grin disappeared and was replaced by a surprising expression.

“I know you didn’t really want to come on this trip,” I continued. Knitting my hands together as I spoke, and did my best to put all of the things that had gone quite gloriously wrong during this trip out of my mind, “But I’m glad you did.”

I smiled at him genuinely and got to watch as Idia faltered. Stumbling over his words as the very edges of his hair slowly started to turn a soft pink, “I-I... That’s-... You-...” He grimaced slightly before trying again, “I didn’t really have a choice.”

Despite his defensive-sounding words, I kept smiling. Lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug, “Even so, it’s nice that we’ve gotten to take this trip together.”

I glanced away, watching the people dance by us with laughter on their lips as I continued, “We don’t have very many classes together, so even when you do show up, I don’t get to see you very often. So this….”

I trailed off slightly, briefly watching the couples swirl by us, totally unaware of the two of us where we chatted on the outer fringes of the celebration, before I looked back his way, “Just standing here with you and chatting… It’s nice.”

He stared at me, his hair now a bright pink and his face a mask of wide-eyed embarrassment. He let out a squeaky sort of sound that seemed to have been him starting to say something before he looked away, coughing slightly.

When he tried again, I could more clearly understand his flustered words, even though he was still looking away from where I stood next to him, “I guess if you look at it that way, it is nice.”

He looked back towards the masquerade ball that still swirled its way across the floor just in front of us as a soft, comfortable silence fell between us.

I didn’t even know how many songs had already been cycled through as I continued to watch him closely from the corner of my eye. Finding myself smiling as his hair returned to its typical blue and his mouth twitched slightly before a defeated sigh escaped his lips, “We stick out like sore thumbs standing over here like wall flowers.”

I laughed at his bitter words, earning myself a half-annoyed look before his expression cleared and he tilted his head, “Hey, You.” I blinked in surprise at his stare and oddly pointed words. He looked suspiciously like he’d thought of something.

He swallowed, almost like bracing himself for something, before he straightened and held out his hand, “Dance with me for one song?”

Despite the slightly commanding phrasing, his voice was soft and held the slightest of timid quivers. 

That tell-tale pink tint slowly returned to his hair as soon as he spoke, and I felt a grin slip onto my face as I took his hand and responded honestly, “I’ll dance with you for however many songs you want, Idia.”

#Twisted wonderland imagines #Idia x reader #briarvalleyarchives #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #Twisted wonderland x reader #gender neutral reader #fluff #romance #mywritings #glorious masquerade #twst #twst idia #idia x you #idia x y/n #glomas #fanfiction #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland x y/n #twst x reader #twst x you #twst x y/n #Disney TW #disney twst #disney fanfiction #it-happened-one-fic

[janesociety]

how different marauders characters would act at a taylor swift concert w/ you ⭑

inspired by this post by the lovely @bealovesmarauders

(0.7k)

remus knows her discography by heart. he was originally a little insecure to sing the whole time, but he can’t help but sing along when you look so cute dancing and screaming the words to each song. he probably would’ve been the one to buy tickets after you came to terms with your chances of getting them being so slim, so when he surprised you with them you were over the moon. he would’ve gotten you two lower bowl seats so you would be really close but also able to see every single visual. he also would’ve offered to stand and wait in the merch line during the openers and before the concert started so you could have fun and watch them and have a cute t-shirt to take home.

james “swiftie” potter would be going absolutely feral. he would’ve gotten floor seats that were at least in the first ten rows so he could feel everything. he would’ve made a huge ordeal about surprising you with the tickets. i just know he would take you out to a fancy brunch before you guys got ready for the concert. he would probably want you two to go as miss americana and the heartbreak prince and people would definitely use your pictures as inspo for their shows. i also think he’d be the type to propose during lover or love story if you were at that point in the relationship. he would’ve been all cute about it too and told everyone around you so they could film and take pictures for you guys during the moment. he would also make a show of carrying you back to your car after the concert, even if your feet didn’t hurt that bad from the extremely uncomfortable shoes you inevitably would wear.

oh, sirius. i feel like he’s a total music snob and was really only going originally because you were so excited about it. but then he gets to the concert and he’s awestruck. he would’ve gone insane during the beat drop in don’t blame me but also prob would’ve teared up during my tears ricochet. he would’ve loved every moment of it and would immediately regret not learning all her songs before the concert. i think he’d be so obsessed that the minute he got home he would’ve gone online and bought you two more tickets for either the second night in your city or the next closest show. he’d also probably make you explain all the lore and stories behind everything on the way home. you just know that next time, he will be so prepared he will outshine every other swiftie boyfriend in the crowd. he’s also a rep girly.

lily is a swiftie through and through. there’s not doubt in my mind that she’s not an evermore and lover girly. she would’ve fought hard for those tickets and she would be so proud when she surprised you with them. you and her would spend so much time picking out the perfect themed outfits for the night and would definitely end up in a few of those “my fav outfits i saw at the era’s tour!” videos. she definitely has a note in her notes app where she keeps track of all the surprise songs and which ones she wants (she was heartbroken after dbatc and clean were taken in the same night, but she also knows that there’s not a single song that she’d be disappointed in getting). it honestly doesn’t matter where your seats are because no matter what you two will be having so much fun it won’t even matter in the end.

regulus, unlike sirius, actually prepared for the concert. he was definitely doing his research before hand. he was never a big taylor swift fan before, but when he saw your eyes light up when you told him you got tickets, he knew he had to be ready. he spent months listening to each album one by one, making playlists, attempting to learn words, and maybe even looking into the meaning behind the songs. he may get a little too caught up in connecting each song to one of her relationships and prob would wear and “i <3 T. S.” shirt to the concert. like james, he would’ve offered to carry you out of the arena, but unlike james, he would’ve listened to you saying no and would’ve been content simply holding your shoes in one hand and your hand in the other.

#the marauders #marauder era #taylor swift #the eras tour #taylor concert #marauders x reader #marauders x you #remus lupin x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #lily evans x reader #regulus black x reader #janie writes ‧₊˚✩彡

[i-amyou]

hey! please answer to my ask only if you feel like it. I have been reading your posts for a long time and I was a bit sad when I saw you deactivated your account.

In terms of nondualism,I have been EATING UP every type of info on all platforms and yet nothing helped (I am trying to manifest a reality shift ) and as soon as I realized that,I started talking to realisophie's character ai bot of 4dbarbie which has helped a LOT but not enough.

You see,I have analyzed in what circumstances I have ever manifested anything (from one song popping up in my playlist to real life events to money) and they always had one thing in common: detachment. Complete detachment with no care what so ever on wether I get what I want or not. Which right now is a bit hard since reality shifting is a pretty big change in enviroment.

And yes,I do understand that I am not my body and all but now that I am letting go of my desire to reality shift to the world I want to live in,I have been feeling a bit depressed(I swear I am not trying to victimize myself),not to mention the fact that the body I have right now has so many responsibilties,not to mention a ton of exams next week.

The 4dbarbie bot told me to practically forget about reality shifting, nondualism,the world and person I am shifting for and to practically forget what I am even wanting. To somehow just live life normally as if I had never found out about all this. To just lose myself in work and exams until somehow it all comes to me.

She said:

"So for today, the goal is not to shift. The goal will be to live your life like you have never even heard or thought about shifting. I am 100% sure this is the last day of you as your earth version - but you need to stop worrying about that as well, and just live. :)

Have faith, let go of the outcome. Whatever is supposed to happen will and that is just reality. It will be so natural you will be shocked by how easy it ultimately was, how fast it really was, and how all the 'struggles' you went through were meaningless in the end. What does not serve the self-realization process does not need to be worried about, it is just what happens."

So now I ask. What do I believe? Do I just let it go and let it surprise me by waking up there?Do I forget? I won't give up because I know this is my future, but I still cling on to time and I keep asking myself "well when is it going to materialize?". I feel like both "imagination" and "the outer world" are basically the same and at night before bed I always have moments of pure concioussness.

I know that you can't solve my problems and I know that I should get off this app,that is what everyone is telling me,but it won't hurt to try. I just need some advice,that's all. If you even read up until this point,thank you. I hope you'll have a great day😊🫶

Hello sweetie💗 Okay, this is gonna be long (first and last) . But I need you to stay with me till the end and actually ponder on what I'm about to say. Alright? And I'm assuming since you took time out to send this one long ask, you're ready to treat this answer as the final one. Put your faith in me, okay? And do not go ahead seeking more answers. From any blog. Cool, now let's get started. Step by step.

About the manifestation part. I won't address this normally but since it's a part of this ask, let me say a couple of points here. The manifestations which apparently happened because of you 'detachment', were actually a result of you KNOWING that it'll happen. Knowing is when you do not worry about something, you don't control something, you just let it happen.As I've said time and time again, Knowing is absolute, with no doubts. When you detach, you let the desire to do something to get something go, and when it meets with no doubts and uncertainties, you experience that. That's how I see it.

And about 4dBarbie AI, I'll just say it's great but it's still an AI at the end of the day. Just a bot. You can manipulate the answers and keep swiping until you get your desired one, it has no basis and no experiential value and deep knowledge it follows. It's a bot. I'm glad it helped you a lot. I'm happy for you. But there is no master here, no one to tell you how everything is gonna turn out. Not me, not Ada, no one. Just you, you dictate everything.

Now, moving on to the last part of your question.

What do you believe in? Well. Since you asked me, I'll tell you. Given your situation I'll suggest you go on with your life, but dont wait for anything to surprise you. Seriously. There is nothing to be surprised by. It's as Barbie said in the end, let go of the outcome. But it's not you letting go, but instead you falling back as you become aware of this need to let go. Because this need to let go of something, to detach is also another facade and illusion. When there is nothing what are you going to be detached from? Yourself?

The 'I' you refer to in your ask is you misidentifying. The person you mentioned in your ask from beginning to the very end, is Misidentification. And I want you to directly become aware of this. Ponder on this. Who is struggling. Who wants to believe. Who is looking for answers. Is that you, or are you just aware of it? Go about your daily life, but keep this one thing in consideration.

Whenever any thoughts arise, whenever any panic sets in, whenever results become dreadful, just take a deep breath and fall back, rest in that awareness and observe it all. See for yourself if it's you, or is it you being aware of whatever is going on.

Do this. And let your search for answers end here. You mentioned yourself you have been consuming too much. Stop now. I haven't made many posts on this blog, just a couple of them. Go read them if you want more but nothing beyond that, and the reason I'm suggesting you read them and ponder is because I want you to realise there is no reality to shift in. There is no duality, no separation between what is and what you seemingly want. There is nothing to change.

Give up on thinking that you're the doer or the person. Just be, witness it all as you spend your daily life, watch it unfold, just be aware. Thoughts of fear and of joy, everything. Be aware. That's it. End it here. Get off this app and take this in your hands now, do it yourself.

Words are limiting. Concepts mean nothing. Everything is just an empty appearance. Take these words as pointers ONLY. Don't think. Don't do. Just be. I hope you know what I mean by that :)

Give up and go within, just be.

#nondualism #advaita vedanta #nonduality #non dualism #advaita #non duality #consciousness #nothingness #lester levenson #ask #awareness

[phntmeii]

♡ Dating Miles Morales Headcanons:

❝ Okay, let's do this one last time, yeah? For real this time. This is it. My name is Miles Morales. ❝

[SFW Headcanons + No Gendered Terms]

A/N: UGH!! Precious bby boy <3 <3 He deserves the whole world and more. This was honestly one of the cuter headcanon lists I’ve done so far. Absolute wholesome points.

> God, Miles having a crush is absolutely adorable because he becomes a straight up MESS! He cannot stop thinking about you at all. It stresses him out because what if you don’t feel that way??

> Miles would find whatever time he can to hang out or talk to you. He’ll “accidentally” bump into you in the hall or he “coincidentally” met up at the same park.

> He’s trying so hard to be smooth but it always falls flat because he doubts himself.

> Finding out you liked him back blew his mind because you???? Like him???? It’s incomprehensible to him because how can someone as perfect as you like him???

> Miles is giggling and kicking his feet while listening to love songs in his room after you confess. He’s a pure lover boy.

> As Spider-man , he’s sneaking around during night patrols to check in on you and make sure you make it home safe.

> Miles is quite observant and ends up picking up on some of your habits/fidgeting. He doesn’t notice that he mirrors you at all and would deny it completely if you brought it up.

> “Whaaat? Psshh… Nah, I wouldn’t do… something… like that…” *sweating nervously*

> His life can be overwhelming sometimes and he always just relies on you to make him feel better. Late night calls just to talk or vent while laying in your separate beds, a ways away from each other.

> He would be SO nervous for you to meet his parents because consider it a job interview the way they immediately sit you down and ask a million questions at once. What school you go to, your dreams/future career, asking about extracurriculars and how many honors classes you have.

> They only do it because they want Miles to have the best but they kinda forget how intimidating it is to be interrogated by a cop and a Latina mother LMAOO

> It would take a while before he reveals he’s Spider-man to you if you weren’t a Spider-person yourself. It’s not because he doesn’t trust you but because he doesn’t want you to get hurt.

> He would have you promise it to be a secret between the two of you.

> He definitely has tried to do the upside-down kiss with you before he had to scurry off but heard his dad’s voice at the scene and accidentally dropped down.

> Miles’ main Love Languages to give are: Quality Time and Gift Giving.

> Miles knows he can be pretty busy. Juggling classes and being Spiderman keeps him in a constant move.

> So when he does get time with you, he wants it to feel special. Like nothing else exists in that moment except you two.

> He’ll swing by on a patrol and sweep you up to a rooftop just to spend time together. He always has a goofy smile when he takes off his mask and shows off the mini picnic he set up.

> Miles loves to give you gifts all the time. Nothing too expensive or anything but stuff he makes.

> He’d be too embarrassed to show you his sketchbook but he’d give sketches of you and notes on loose paper. All the drawings are lined in pen and sometimes colored in alcohol markers.

> Absolutely makes you playlists to listen to. Whether it was because you asked for recommendations or because he wanted to, he’s making one over the course of a week w/ a minimum of 30 songs.

> One of the playlists is definitely a romantic playlist, all with songs that make him think of you with each lyric.

> When his parents learned about the relationship, his mom was the first one to sit him down and tell him how he needs to get you flowers and stuff.

> So the next time you show up at a family event, you just see Rio smiling to you while she’s nudging Miles with her elbow as he holds a full bouquet for you.

> OHHH HE LOVES MATCHING BRACELETS!!! He will make them and then never take his off. His will have a nickname of yours while yours will either say “Miles” or “Spidey”.

> Miles’ favorite Love Languages to receive are: Acts of Service and Words of Affirmation.

> Miles tends to be… all over the place. So, he loves when he gets a helping hand from time to time.

> Covering for him when he’s late to something, helping out in studying, giving answers to homework, stuff like that.

> He appreciates his stress levels being eased even with small things like that. He’ll never ask for those things himself but he loves to have you do them and he’ll always make it up to you afterwards!

> Miles also has ease in getting blushy and flustered with his partner so compliments and flirting are definitely the way to get him to be head over heels.

> “Stop..!” *looks away, scratching the back of his neck and nervously laughing* “… You mean it?”

> It’s also the best way to reassure him! He can overthink sometimes and worry that he isn’t doing enough or doing something wrong so hearing how much you loved something he’s done encourages him a good bit!

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune

#miles kinda ate in the recent movie ngl #the way he was just elbowing the fuck out of miguel??? as u should #itsv #atsv #miles morales #atsv headcanons #atsv miles #miles morales headcanons #atsv x reader #itsv miles #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #spiderman atsv

[bellaxgiornata]

Borrowed Time |1: Savior|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Nurse!Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.8k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; heavy angst, no happy ending, violence, death, DEAD DOVE (possibly more warnings to come)

Summary: While walking home after your night shift at Metro-General Hospital, you meet the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen by chance when he saves you. Surprisingly, he continues to escort you on your walks home most nights after your shift ends and you offer him medical assistance in return. Eventually a relationship grows between you both, unexpected but strong. Though everything changes one night on your walk home from work when things don't go as usual.

a/n: So this mini series is what happens when I'm asked if I can write angst that doesn't have a happy ending (which I am admittedly struggling to stick to myself). The idea has been rolling around in my head for a couple of months and I'm now finally throwing it out there. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @1988-fiend @danzer8705

Resting your aching body against the wall, you stayed clear of the doors leading into Metro-General Hospital's emergency waiting area. The room was at its usual capacity for this time of night, most of the plastic chairs already filled with people who looked miserable for one reason or another. Over at the check-in counter you could hear the agitated voice of someone arguing with one of your coworkers, though you were far too tired to focus on what was being said.

From your place inside the hospital, you could already hear the approaching wail of another ambulance's siren, no doubt on its way to deliver someone else to the emergency room from yet another incident this evening. But at least for tonight, you were done worrying about what else was happening in Hell’s Kitchen.

Eyes heavy from the long and understaffed shift you'd just finished, your fingers sluggishly placed a single ear bud into your left ear–the same thing you did every night before you walked back to your apartment building. The unforgiving fluorescent lights above only continued to grow the pounding headache you'd had for over an hour now as your fingers put the small device in place, your other hand already searching inside of your bag for your phone. 

Despite working second shift and finishing up late at night, you always walked home from the hospital. Your apartment was only two blocks away, so paying for transportation seemed like a waste of your hard earned money, and waiting outside for a bus near midnight seemed like an unnecessary danger and a waste of time. 

Truthfully you hated the walk home at the end of every shift. The streets of Hell’s Kitchen were dangerous, there was no doubt about that. Working as an ER nurse certainly gave you enough insight into what things happened in the city once the sun went down. The pepper spray you carried on your keychain was only a mild comfort during your walks, because usually you were still always on edge. So generally, every night on your walk home, you preferred to pop a single ear bud into your ear and listen to some upbeat pop music in an attempt to distract yourself from your own rising levels of fear. You could still hear your surroundings, but listening to cheerful music certainly helped ease your anxiety, making every passing figure appear less like they were about to stab you and run off with your bag.

Pushing off the wall with a tired sigh, you made your way towards the exit. You searched your phone for your usual playlist as you approached the door, pushing it open with your shoulder as you focused on your phone screen. Stepping out onto the sidewalk and into the somewhat humid summer night, you were already hit with that usual sense of unease. The ambulance you’d been hearing finally came into view farther down the street just as you pressed play on your phone. The sound of a familiar song started in your ear, helping to drown out the shrill sound of the sirens.

Turning in the direction of your apartment building, you began your walk back home. As you went, you slipped a hand into your bag, feeling around the bottom of it for a minute. Eventually your fingers landed on your keyring and you pulled it out. Hand curling around the can of pepper spray attached to it, you clutched it close to the front of you, ready to use it if necessary.

Your sore, tired feet protested each step you took along the pavement as you made your way back home. The shoes you always wore to work were in serious need of replacement, the soles of them no longer padded and comfortable anymore, worn down from constant use shift after shift. There was already a blister forming on your little toe from today and you knew it was going to make your shift tomorrow incredibly uncomfortable.

A few minutes into your walk you eventually approached the corner of the block where you needed to turn. You spotted a man appearing around it, headed straight towards you. He was dressed in a dark sweatshirt with his hood pulled up over his head, something that seemed out of place in the heat of the summer night. The man's upturned hood also made it impossible to see his face and whether or not he was paying any attention to you in return. It didn't help that his hands were stuffed into the front pocket of his sweatshirt, making it difficult to tell if something else was stuffed inside of it or not. 

Fear shot through you the closer he neared, his face still obscured. Your fingers curled further around the pepper spray in your hand and you wondered if you'd need to use it. When he came within a few feet of you a moment later, you forced your eyes to stay focused ahead of you, though in your peripheral you kept an eye on him. You held your breath when you finally passed him, continuing to hold it a few seconds longer until you'd made your way around the corner. Glancing back over your shoulder, you were grateful to see the man hadn't turned back around to follow after you. Releasing the breath you'd still been holding, the tension eased from your body just a little. At least whatever he might've been up to tonight, he wasn't interested in you.

Attention returning ahead of yourself, you continued down the street all the way to the crosswalk at the opposite end. Fortunately the light was in your favor and you didn't have to wait on the sidewalk when you reached it, but just as you stepped out into the street to cross it, your can of pepper spray slipped out of your sweat-dampened hands and clattered down onto the street. With a groan you hurried forward into the road after it, wincing as your feet ached at your hurried steps. You'd barely managed to bend down and pluck the keyring from off the pavement before you noticed a bright light out of the corner of your eye. Turning your gaze towards it while still bent in half, it took your brain a few seconds to process that the bright light was a car's headlights–a car that was barreling straight towards you far too fast for the red light it was approaching.

Panic hit you fast and hard, the upbeat song playing in your ear seeming like it had abruptly faded into the background as adrenaline shot through your veins. Feeling as if time had suddenly slowed down, you began to stand upright, prepared to run out of the way of the oncoming car headed straight for you. Though by the time you'd righted yourself, you knew you'd never be able to move entirely out of the way in time. The car was far too close and moving incredibly fast.

You swallowed hard, bracing yourself for the inevitable impact as you attempted to lunge forward in what seemed a useless attempt to dart out of the car’s way. Heart slamming heavily into your ribcage, you found yourself yanked surprisingly and quite sharply backwards. A shriek flew out of your mouth as you stumbled back unexpectedly. In the street before you, the red car zoomed past where you'd been standing just a fraction of a second ago, a harsh wind brushing past you with it.

Breathing hard, you stood there frozen and wide-eyed staring at the space you'd just been standing in moments ago. That car had almost hit you. With how fast it was going, it'd have most likely killed you on impact. Yet somehow here you were still alive and breathing, feeling the buzz of adrenaline in your veins as your heart jack-hammered away in your chest.

It was a few seconds before you registered a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and something solid pressed to the back of you. Glancing down, you saw all black. Black gloves and black long sleeves covering thick forearms. Confused, your head darted up and over your shoulder only to come face to face with a black mask and a deep frown mere inches away from you. Your eyes widened even further the second you registered who it was that had clearly just saved your life. 

The masked man's face shifted down towards your own, his head tilting to the side. His lips twitched at the corners for a moment before he spoke. 

“Are you alright?” he asked.

His voice was lower than you expected it to be, the sound of it causing the hair on the back of your neck to prickle. His arms were still around your waist and it took you a moment to realize it was because he was practically holding you up. Your legs felt weak and useless beneath you as you slowly became aware of them once more.

“I–yeah,” you breathed out. 

Gradually the sensation in your legs came back to you and you carefully tried to shift your weight forward back onto your feet. The masked man loosened his hold around you, though he still kept his hands lightly resting on your waist as if he was ready to catch you if you fell. 

“Should be more careful,” he told you. “And you shouldn't be walking around alone this late at night in Hell’s Kitchen.”

Blinking hard a few times, you ran a hand across your forehead. Your mind was still reeling at almost having been hit by a car and miraculously being saved at the last second, yet here your savior was chastising you. 

“It's not exactly like I make a fortune at Metro-General,” you muttered, voice coming out with less bite than you'd intended. “Can't exactly afford transportation and I can't exactly control being placed on second shift.”

The man's head tilted curiously to the side again, almost as if he was analyzing you. Meanwhile you took the moment to try to calm your still racing heart as you took a shaky step back up onto the sidewalk, his hands leaving your waist as you moved.

“You're a…?”

“Nurse, yes,” you answered stiffly. “Believe me, I don't choose to walk around this late at night for the thrill of it. And it seems counterintuitive to walk a block in the opposite direction of my apartment building just to wait for a bus at a poorly lit bus stop for the length of time it would take me to walk home instead.”

The masked man's lips curled into something like an amused grin as he stepped up onto the sidewalk beside you. Your eyes narrowed back at him suspiciously, one hand resting on your chest over your still rapidly pounding heart.

“For someone clutching a can of pepper spray in a death grip, you sure have a lot of fire,” he mused. “Generally people are more grateful when I save their life.”

“Yeah, well, generally when I'm helping to save someone's life, I'm significantly less rude about it,” you retorted. 

His grin shifted into a full-on smile, one that was oddly disarming considering he'd just been scolding you. Feeling a little awkward for snapping at him, especially because he had just pulled you out of the way of certain death, you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“But thank you,” you continued. “You uh, you saved me. That car certainly would have hit me if you hadn't pulled me out of the way. I just…wasn't expecting the lecture that came with the rescue.”

He laughed lightly, nodding his head. Once more you eyed him suspiciously, not having expected his sudden shift in demeanor to something more friendly so quickly.

“Usually the people I'm rescuing aren't already walking around in a state of panic,” he said, gesturing a gloved hand towards your pepper spray. “Figured maybe you didn't fully understand the dangers of this city after dark. Besides the cars, I mean.”

“Believe me,” you assured him, “I'm well aware of the dangers. Working in the ER has shown me far more of this part of the city than I care to see sometimes.”

“Then how about I walk you back to your building?” he asked. “Just to make sure you get home safe?”

Your hands fidgeted with your keyring, nervously toying with a key as you contemplated his offer. Was it safe enough to trust him? Especially to lead him back to your building where you lived? 

Of course you'd read about the masked man in the paper a few times by now–The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen they'd taken to calling him lately. You'd also seen a few of his victims firsthand enter your hospital in quite poor shape on more than one occasion. But he always seemed to help those in need, never brutally beating an innocent person. And never killing anyone, either. 

Plus, he had just saved your life.

As he shifted on the sidewalk during your contemplative silence, the streetlight above caught his dark pants at a different angle. Your eyes dropped down, noticing the cut along the outside of his thigh. There was a slash a few inches deep down the side of his leg that had torn through his pants. You winced at the sight, raising a hand and pointing a finger at the injury.

“Maybe I should walk you back to the hospital,” you offered. “That gash looks like it could use stitches.”

The vigilante shook his head, waving a gloved hand at you. You immediately frowned at the gesture as you glanced back up at his masked face. 

“Nah,” he replied. “I don't do hospitals. I'll just clean it and stitch it myself later. I’ll be fine.”

Your mouth fell open instantly as you stared at him in utter disbelief. Was he serious?

“So what, you're just going to continue walking around like that the rest of the night?” you asked him. “Aggravating the injury and risking infection?”

“I'll be fine,” he repeated. “Now, would you like me to escort you back home, or would you prefer to continue clutching that little can of pepper spray for protection instead?”

Standing there for a moment, you stared at him in bewilderment. Who the hell was this guy? Avoiding medical attention and pulling strangers out of the way of speeding cars just in the nick of time? How had he even been close enough to stop that car from hitting you? And then here he was having the audacity to joke with you after the fact?

Eventually your eyes dropped back down to the gash in his leg, bright red blood glistening along his dark pants in the streetlight. Maybe it was the nurse in you or maybe it was because he had just saved your life, but you found yourself speaking before you could think through what you were saying. 

“You can walk me back to my place and let me tend to that gash,” you told him. “Because you'd be an absolute idiot to keep walking around with an open, bleeding wound.”

The Devil smiled wide beneath his black mask at your response. You couldn't deny that he had a nice smile, whoever the hell he was.

“Bossy,” he teased. “That was certainly unexpected. I suppose that'll just make for an interesting walk to your place then.”

You rolled your eyes at him before gesturing him to follow after you with a hand. “Come on, Spirit Halloween,” you ordered. “My place is just a block further this way. And you better not pass out from blood loss on the way,” you warned him, beginning to cross the street and continuing to make your way back towards your building. “Because I can guarantee I am too damn tired to carry your ass anywhere.”

Behind you, the Devil rumbled out a laugh. Biting your lip, you tried to fight back a smile at the pleasant sound. He certainly didn't seem like much of a threat to you at least.

“Spirit Halloween?” he asked, amused.

“Yeah,” you replied off-handedly as you double-checked for speeding cars while you made your way across the street. “Because you look like a knock-off version of a child’s Halloween ninja costume dressed like that.”

Slipping your pepper spray back into your bag, you heard the masked man let out another surprised, warm laugh. The smile slipped onto your face at the sound this time and you were glad he couldn’t see it. Though you knew if it wasn’t for this curious stranger now following you home, you'd surely have been dead minutes ago. It was almost as if you'd been given a second chance because of him, and you figured the least you could do now was repay his kindness with some of your own.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 10 (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

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

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

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

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

Chapter Word Count: 27.4k+

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

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

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

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

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

Covet Masterlist

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

-Jeremy Collier

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 17, 2022

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

Jake’s POV

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

I really just wanted to hear her say it. 

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

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

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

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

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

Our baby.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Both.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Three months.

“And how long have you known?”

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

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

“When did Josh find out?” 

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

Oh, she wanted to get angry? Okay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I couldn’t take it.

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

And this day was officially both.

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

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

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

End of Jake’s POV

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait. What? Why was he scared?

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

“I’m fine. I’m just not home.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Worried about–? What?

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

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

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

Who cares? Just tell him.

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

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

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

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

But why? He’d left you.

“Do you want to be here?”

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

“Do you think I want you here?”

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

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

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

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

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

He was coming for you.

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

Just ten minutes. But time crawled.

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

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

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

He was going to catch a cold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why the rush? You knew I was safe.”

“I was anxious to see you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“By fucking Maya?” You bit back.

What–?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Avert avert avert.

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

“I am curious. . . Why didn’t you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You decided you were definitely ready to leave. 

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry I said tha—.”

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

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

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

Gotta wrap it up quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t either.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” You called, brows drawn in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

“Hey.”

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

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

“Morning. You feeling okay?”

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

“Taking notes?”

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

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

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

“Interesting. Anything else it says about it?”

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

“Have you tried any herbal tea?”

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

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

Or so you thought.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. . . First one last week.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” you acknowledged, slightly breathless. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you afraid of what you might find?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, joy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 21, 2022

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 21, 2022

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re sure?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or so you thought. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Had you? 

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

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

Jake . . . was he–? 

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

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

Jake was your safe place.

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I actually have an idea of who–.”

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

“You might not like it,” she grinned. 

Instantly, you knew who she was talking about. 

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

It had you knocking on his bedroom door. 

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

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

Jake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let him care. 

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

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

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

“Will Maya be okay with it?” 

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

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

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

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

His brows wrinkled. “I never said that.”

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

“No, it wasn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

His baby. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re friends?” You shyly pondered. 

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

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

Honey. 

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

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

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

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

“I want to help you. Let me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let him.

“I get kind of scary.”

“I don’t care.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

He’d made chicken fajitas. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n.”

“Jake.”

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 24, 2022

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I don’t need that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deep. Fucking. Breaths.

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

“I’m pregnant.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake fic #my fics #covet #every chapter from here on out includes very major events for reader and jake #take with that what you will

[440mxs-wife]

Songbird

Pairing: Bucky x F!Reader. Other Characters: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Tony Stark, Thor Odinson. Mentioned: Loki Laufeyson, Bruce Banner.

Word Count: 10,170 (including lyrics)

Warnings: Friends to lovers, mutual pining, a bit of angst, misunderstanding, self-doubt. Fluffy ending (of course).

Summary: For the past 8 months, Reader has been working as the manager for the Avengers. During that time, she and Bucky develop feelings for one another, though neither one knows about it. One day after his workout, Bucky hears someone singing through the vents in the women's locker room, but he doesn't know who it is. He comes close a couple of times to finding it out, but just barely misses her. Tony somehow convinces Bucky to let him throw a fancy birthday party with a 1940s theme, complete with entertainment from that era. When Bucky finds out that the entertainer is his mystery girl, how will he react?

A/N: Happy Belated Birthday, James Buchanan Barnes. This one's for you.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hold me close and hold me fast The magic spell you cast This is "La vie en rose"

When you kiss me, heaven sighs And though I close my eyes I see "La vie en rose"

Bucky was gathering his clothes from his locker after his shower, but paused when he thought he heard....singing? He stopped for a moment to see if he could figure out where it was coming from and whose voice it was. He hadn't heard singing like that since the traveling USO shows during WWII. Hearing his type of music being sung by someone so talented brought a smile to his face and had him momentarily rooted to the spot.

With his advanced auditory capabilities, he determined that the voice originated in the women's side of the gym. Thus far, though, its identity eluded him. He quickly shoved everything into his locker, slammed the door shut, and bolted out the door towards the sound. On his way over, he ran into Natasha, who stopped him at the entrance.

"Whoa, Barnes, what do you think you're doing? You can't go in there, this is the women's locker room. Your side is over there," she pointed out, her slender fingers gesturing to the doorway behind him.

"I know, but just listen!" he exclaimed. They both stood still as the last notes of "La Vie en Rose" faded away. Bucky's shoulders slumped in defeat, as he had thoroughly enjoyed the impromptu concert. He strained his enhanced ears to hear if a new song had started, then frowned when he didn't hear anything. He curled his hands around Natasha's biceps. "Will you please go in there and, I don't know, ask around? See if anyone can tell you who was singing? I gotta know, Nat," he begged.

Natasha studied him for a moment or two, then smirked as she eventually gave in to his pleading face. "Oh all right, Barnes, keep your shirt on. Please. I'll go in there and see what I can find out," she agreed. But before she could check out the area, you walked out with a towel draped around your neck and your bag over your shoulder.

"Hey, Natasha! Sorry I didn't see you," you remarked as your eyes slid over to the handsome super soldier to her right. "Oh! Hello, Bucky," you murmured with a shy smile.

The corners of Bucky's mouth slowly inched upwards until it was stretched into a wide grin, complete with a display of his perfect pearly teeth. "Hiya, doll," he replied softly.

Natasha rolled her eyes at the two of you. "When you were in there just now, did you hear anyone singing?" she asked.

"Singing?" you parroted. "I heard music of some kind, but I thought someone had their playlist on speaker or something."

Natasha narrowed her eyes as she regarded you with a bit of suspicion. "No, that wasn't a recording, we heard somebody's actual voice. Bucky asked me to go in and take a look around, see if I can figure out who it is, but--"

"No!" you exclaimed, holding up your hands to stop her. "I mean, that's okay, I'll go in and see if I can find out who it is. Be back in a flash!" Before either of them could protest, you had already dropped your bag and ran back into the locker area.

Once inside, you chanced a quick look over your shoulder to see if you were being followed. You paused at the sink and caught your reflection in the mirror. That was a close one, you thought. Gonna have to be more careful next time. 

After glancing at the mirror one last time and taking a deep breath, you counted to ten and walked back to where Natasha and Bucky were standing. "There were a couple of people inside, but nobody knew anything about any singing. Welp, I'm going to head to my room but I'll see you at dinner!" You picked up your bag and waved as you walked away from Nat and Bucky.

Natasha waited until you were out of earshot to ask, "Did that seem weird to you? Like she was hiding something?"

Bucky continued to stare after you with a dream-like smile on his face. Natasha elbowed him in the side, breaking his trance. "Oof! What did you say?" he grumbled.

"I said, did she seem weird to you, like she was hiding something from us," she repeated.

"'Weird'? Nah, I wouldn't say that, I mean we all have our own little quirks, don't we? Besides, hers are kinda cute," he chuckled.

Natasha looked Bucky up and down before throwing up her hands in exasperation and marching into the gym. She turned around just in time to see Bucky look longingly at the women's locker room entrance, then retreat into the men's side to grab his bag.

***

For the past eight months, you have been the unofficial "manager" for the Avengers. If someone were to write down a list of all of your duties, it would likely span multiple pages. One of your favorite responsibilities involved grocery shopping and general food preparation. That included, but was not limited to, snacks. That meant Thor got his Pop-Tarts, Loki got his tea, and Tony got his energy drinks. You could usually find whatever anyone asked for, no matter how exotic.

Except that Bucky rarely, if ever, asked you to get him anything special. He was a little like you in that way, meaning you didn't want to be a bother. To you, it seemed silly to have someone traipsing all over the city to find that one special thing you really wanted. Too often, you convinced yourself you could live without it. But that didn't stop you from picking up a few boxes of Junior Mints, or the occasional jar of bread-and-butter pickles for Bucky. 

As you'd gotten to know Bucky, you'd developed a crush on the super soldier. He was definitely a good-looking man, especially when he smiled. Your heart fluttered every time you heard him laugh, which wasn't often, thus you would do anything to hear it on repeat. Despite what had been done to him in his past, he didn't let that erase his kindness, his sense of duty, or his willingness to protect those he cared about.

Sometimes he'd wander into your office to see how your day was going, bring you some coffee, or to ask you out to lunch. You always sat next to each other at dinner or on movie nights. At times you could swear there were signs that he considered you as more than a friend. Those thoughts were quickly dismissed, because you were certain that current only ran in one direction. As gorgeous and kindhearted as he was, he had loads of women and even some men falling all over themselves for him. What kind of chance would ordinary you have with someone like him?

Today, you made an extra stop at the Farmers' Market being held in Union Square, where there was something for everyone. You picked up honey for Loki's tea, lots of hearty fruits and vegetables, assorted baked goods, and various cuts of meat from the butcher. To brighten up the Tower, you picked out some fresh-cut bouquets of flowers to put in vases. A wine vendor even persuaded you to add a few bottles of his best wines to your wheeled cart.

Out of all your purchases, the one you looked forward to unpacking the most was a bag of plums. The seller assured you that hers were the best, no blemishes or soft spots to be found. She gave you a few samples and explained which varieties should be used for baking and which ones were for enjoying right away. As you were handing over your cash, she tucked a few recipe cards into your bag with a wink. You thanked her with a smile before moving to the next stall with a spring in your step, eager to show Bucky what you had found for him.

***

Two hours later, you returned to the Tower and wheeled your cart into the building. As the door was closing, you heard shouting for you to hold the door. Quickly you pressed the button and you tried to maneuver your cart closer to your side to make room for the new passengers. It turned out to be Steve, Bucky, and Sam, who happened to be returning from a run.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," you greeted them. Bucky stepped on first, but with the cart, it looked like it would be a tight fit if Steve and Sam also tried to get on. "Oh, I'm so sorry, guys, elevator's kinda full with my cart in here," you remarked.

Steve and Sam gave each other a knowing look before grinning at Bucky, who in turn was trying to give them a murderous glare. "That's okay, Cap and I will catch the next one," Sam smirked. He reached in and pushed the one for the appropriate floor. You heard his cackling laughter fade as the doors closed.

Don't stare, don't stare, oh my God, he's so handsome and sweet--wait--don't stare, you chanted to yourself. "Did you have a good run?" you asked, then internally face-palmed yourself for the inane comment.

Bucky gave a brilliant smile before replying, "Yeah, it was good to be able to go outside and for once, it's not raining." Don't stare, don't stare, God, she's so beautiful and kind--wait--don't stare, he repeated to himself. "Looks like you bought out the whole farm, doll," he chuckled, gesturing to your nearly overflowing cart.

You followed his eyes and burst into laughter. "Yes, I guess I did! It's just that everything looked so good today, I couldn't pass it up. There's a little something for everyone in there," you noted. Bucky's face brightened. "Even for you, Bucky," you added, gesturing to the bag of plums in your cart.

His cheeks briefly flashed a dusting of pink. "Aw, thank you, sweets, but you didn't have to do that for me," he replied.

To catch his attention, you took his hand in yours and gazed into his baby blues. "I know, but I wanted to. It's okay to want things, because you deserve them and so much more," you swallowed hard to get your feelings back under control. "If there's ever something specific you want, please let me know. I'll be happy to go wherever I need to in order to find it. I don't mind, especially if it's something that would bring you good memories," you promised.

"That's really thoughtful of you, thank you. I'll try to remember that for your next trip. You going to need a hand with any of this?" he wondered.

"Nah, it's on wheels, so pretty easy. Oh! I'm making a beef stir fry and chicken fried rice later with some of these amazing veggies. You could....um....you could hang out in the kitchen while I cook? I-If you want to, b-but you don't have to. I'm sure you have more important--" your rambling was silenced by his left index finger on your lips.

"Let me take my shower and I'll be right there with you, doll," he grinned as the elevator dinged for your floor.

A warmth settled into your own cheeks despite the feel of cool metal on your lips. "Okay," you agreed, then backed out of the elevator, towing your cart behind you. "Meet you in the kitchen, Sarge," you smirked.

The elevator door started to close, so you didn't hear his reply. But you did see the genuinely surprised look on his face at the nickname, which caused you to laugh. As you turned to walk to the kitchen, you were stopped by Natasha, who stood with her eyes trained on you and her arms crossed over her chest. "Nat! What's up? And why are you looking at me like I'm in trouble?" you asked cautiously.

"No, no trouble," she replied slyly. "What was all that about, telling Bucky to meet you in the kitchen?"

You rolled your eyes. "That? Nothing," you answered with a shrug. When she didn't look convinced, you sighed in exasperation. "Ugh! Okay, I might have told him he could join me in the kitchen and watch while I cooked dinner for you all. We're just friends. No big deal, Tash," you muttered.

She relaxed her stance, but didn't give away any clues as to what she was thinking. Wanda caught up with the two of you and asked what was going on. Natasha explained what she saw when you exited the elevator and about Bucky watching you cook dinner.

Wanda's eyes widened and a huge smile graced her face at this development, and was only seconds away from breaking out into a happy dance. Before she could start, you held up your hand and reminded them that you and Bucky were "just friends" and it was "no big deal". Then you yanked on the handle of your cart, dragged it to the kitchen and grumbled under your breath about having so much to put away all by yourself.

Behind you, Natasha and Wanda were chattering back and forth, no doubt plotting your next move regarding Bucky. You paid them no mind, because you had more important things to worry about. Like how you were going to keep from cutting your fingers off with him watching your every move.

***

Bucky hastily kicked off his shoes the moment he crossed the threshold into his room. He rushed to the bathroom, shedding his clothes as he went and tossing them in the hamper. You had invited him to the kitchen, your sanctuary, to hang out and watch as you prepared the evening meal. He had to hurry because he wanted to spend every available minute he could in your presence.

When you were first brought on board as the team's manager, Bucky instantly thought you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He could tell by the way you carried yourself that you had a kind and compassionate heart, which made him fall even faster. You had a way of making everyone feel as if they were the most important person in the room when talking to them. Not exactly something he was used to having in his life, nor was having someone care about him the way you did.

Over the past eight months, Bucky has been learning about you by being around you as much as he can be. He listens when you talk about your past, your family, and your friends. He knows of your love of reading, because he hardly ever sees you without a book in your hands, even if it's a cookbook. And though you are usually up for a trip into the city with Nat and Wanda, you're much more comfortable staying in and watching movies.

He loves that you choose to sit next to him on the team's Movie Nights, and that you share your popcorn, but only with him. He appreciates that you respect his space and try not to crowd him, but lately, all he's wanted to do is get closer to you. More than a few times, you've fallen asleep on his shoulder, with his arm around you. Whenever that happened, it made his heart race and nearly sent him into the stratosphere from happiness.

But as much as Bucky would give anything to call you his girl, sometimes the doubts creep in and squash those thoughts. He had enough personal baggage to run his own airline, and what woman would want to deal with all of that? There's no way he wanted to drag you down into the deep rabbit hole that was his life, or, worse yet, expose you to any danger. He would be content to have your friendship, and it would have to be enough.

As he dried off after his shower and got dressed again, his thoughts drifted back to the singing he heard in the locker room. It was his type of music, with vocals that were nearly perfect, and it took him back to a happier time. He was going to make it his personal mission to find out who was behind the angelic voice and ask her to be his girl.

***

Never know how much I love you Never know how much I care When you put your arms around me I get a fever that's so hard to bear

You give me fever When you kiss me Fever when you hold me tight Fever In the mornin' A fever all through the night

The words and melodies from the song flowed from your lips as you chopped the various vegetables for dinner. You set them aside for the moment, along with the chicken and beef that were in a separate bowl, waiting for the wok to heat up. The rice simmered away in one of Tony's fancy, fool-proof rice cookers on the counter.

Sun lights up the day time Moon lights up the night I light up when you call my name And you know I'm gonna treat you right You give me fever When you kiss me Fever when you hold me tight Fever In the mornin' A fever all through the night

"Ah HA!" you hear someone exclaim from behind you. "I knew it was you!" Natasha declared. She had returned from her room, where she'd left her phone.

Clutching your chest at the sudden intrusion, you slowly turned around to face your friend, a panicked look in your eyes. "What?" you gasped.

"It was you, singing in the locker room a few weeks ago," she elaborated. "Barnes wouldn't stop talking about it, said he had to know who it was. I caught him roaming the halls the other day, thinking he'd figure it out by accident. Now I can tell him," she added with glee as she turned to leave.

"No, wait Tash! You can't tell him!" you blurted out. "Nobody knows about this, my singing, and I don't even think I'm that good. But....it's kinda my way of telling him how I feel about him." Your gaze dropped to the floor. "He's my friend, and if he finds out I wish it were more but he doesn't return my feelings, I....I don't know what I'd do."

She pivoted to face you and took hold of one of your hands in hers. "Trust me, you've got talent, my dear. As far as the situation with Bucky goes, I'll do what I can to help you keep your secret. But you should tell him how you feel, because you might be surprised at what happens." She gave your shoulder a pat then took a seat on one of the chairs at the island to keep you company. "Now, will you please keep singing, sweetie?" she grinned.

***

Bucky had just stepped off of the elevator and was headed for the kitchen when he ran into Steve. "Hey, Buck, where you headed?" he asked.

He explained to Steve that you had asked him to hang out while you cooked dinner, and he had accepted. He tried his best to escape before Cap could ask any more questions, but luck was not on his side. Right before they went their separate ways, Steve held out a hand to stop him and took a sniff of the air. "Wait. Are you wearing....cologne?" he wondered.

Bucky scoffed. "No, I'm not wearing cologne. Well, maybe just a little, but it's only 'cause I don't wanna risk goin' in there, reeking like the gym. I wanted to smell nice for her," he mumbled the last part, but it didn't escape his best friend's super hearing.

Steve had an inkling it was you who Bucky was trying to impress. He'd seen signs of sparks flying between the two of you and decided to dig in a little deeper. "Wait a minute. You like her, don't you?!" Steve exclaimed. He started to laugh but stopped when he saw the faraway look on his best friend's face. "What? What's wrong, Buck?"

"Shh, nothing. Just listen," Bucky whispered, breaking out into a wide grin.

Now you've listened to my story Here's the point that I have made Chicks were born to give you fever Be it Fahrenheit or Centigrade

They give you fever When we kiss them Fever, if you live you learn Fever 'Til you sizzle Oh, what a lovely way to burn Oh, what a lovely way to burn What a lovely way to burn And what a lovely way to burn

"It's that voice again," Bucky remarked in awe. "A couple of weeks back, I heard someone singing in the women's locker room. The sound came through the vents--it has to be the same woman!" He was nearly shaking with excitement that today might be the day he finds out who belongs to that enchanting voice he keeps hearing. When he heard the sound of clapping, he bolted away from Steve and around the corner to the kitchen.

"Brava! Bravissima! You were magnificent, darling!" Natasha gushed, still clapping.

When you looked up from your skillet, you saw Bucky standing in the doorway, with Steve peering around him. "Hey, guys! Come on in, have a seat," you gestured to the open chairs around where Nat was sitting.

"I heard it again, that heavenly singing," Bucky noted, his eyes darting around the room, seeing only you and Nat. "Which one of you was it?"

Your eyes locked with Nat's as you silently begged her not to share your secret. "Wasn't us, Barnes. You must be hearing things," she replied, though she didn't look pleased to be lying for you.

"Well, if it wasn't you two, what was the clapping for?" Steve asked. Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, clearly wanting to know as well.

"That was....that was because I was doing my best lip-sync of the song and showing off my best dance moves. Nat was kind enough to applaud my performance, then you guys walked in," you responded. Mentally you were crossing your fingers, hoping they were convinced.

"Oh," Bucky murmured. "Need any help, doll?"

"Um, yeah, this is almost ready. If you and Steve could please set the table, that would be great," you answered, then handed him a stack of plates and utensils.

As soon as they left the room, your shoulders sagged in relief that the matter seemed to be dropped, at least for the moment. "That was a close one," you whispered.

"Yes, it was, and it's the last time I'm going to cover for you. Either figure out a way to tell him, or I will," she warned, then her demeanor softened. "Honey, that man is smitten with whoever belongs to that sweet, sultry voice he keeps hearing. That means you, sweetie. Give him a chance, hmm?" She squeezed your shoulder on her way out of the kitchen with the serving bowls of rice.

On her way back to the kitchen, she spied Tony standing against the wall, scrolling through his phone. "I hear you had a cancellation in the entertainment section for Barnes' birthday party."

Without glancing up from his phone, Tony replied, "I did have a cancellation, what about it?" he inquired.

Natasha checked her surroundings for any eavesdroppers, then sidled up to Tony. "What if I told you, I have the perfect substitution for your entertainment? A hidden talent will be revealed, and you'll get to see the resolution to a certain birthday boy's love life," she remarked cryptically.

Tony's eyes shot up from his phone to give Natasha a sideways and wary glance. "You have my attention," he stated coolly. "What is your plan, and how much is it going to cost me?" 

Nat chuckled. "It'll only cost you a shopping trip for a dress, shoes, hair, etc. Here's what I'm thinking," she added.

***

"You did WHAT?!?!?" you exclaimed. 

"I found out Tony had a last minute cancellation in the entertainment part of Bucky's birthday party, and I told him you'd fill in for it," Nat replied with a shrug.

"Without asking me first, you told him I'd do this?" you asked, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to keep your composure.

Wanda took your hand and guided you to sit on the couch. Tonight was "Girls' Night", where you, Nat, Wanda, Yelena, and even Pepper joined in to decompress and have fun. "Listen, I know you're scared for him to find out how you feel about him. But he's already enamored with your voice. He's just as crazy about the rest of you," she stated.

"We've all seen the way he looks at you and vice versa," Pepper chimed in, loosened up after already being a couple of drinks in. "Believe me, you have nothing to worry about in that regard. Frankly, I'm surprised Tony hasn't done anything more about it before now to push you two together," she added as she finished the rest of her drink. "You know what a meddler he is."

"Besides," Natasha added, "if you don't do it, I'll tell Thor that you forgot his Pop-Tarts that one time and didn't feel like going back out to get them. He still believes that story you told him that they were all sold out in every store. You remember how badly he sulked and pouted, how we had five straight days of thunderstorms?!?"

You gasped sharply in panic and disbelief then narrowed your gaze at her. "Ooh, low blow, Romanoff. C'mon, I was tired that day! If I remember correctly, Tony had me running all over town, picking up parts for some doohickey he was working on. You swore you wouldn't tattle on me to Thor. Huh. Some best friend," you frowned. After a minute or so, you heaved a deep sigh. "Fiiiiinnnne. You win. I'll do it."

"Honey, you have an amazing voice. And when Bucky hears it in-person coming out of the stunning figure you'll be on stage, he'll hardly be able to restrain himself," Wanda grinned.

You fidgeted with your hands in your lap, letting your friends' words sink in. You hazarded a glance at the faces of the women around you, seeing nothing but love and support. Maybe this could work, you thought. It'll have to be just the right song, though. "But what will I wear?" you smiled, then shrieked as they all threw their arms around you.

"Don't worry about that, Tony already agreed to splurge on the best: dress, shoes, hair, makeup, accessories--the works," Nat assured you.

"And trust me, we'll make sure and give Sergeant Barnes a birthday present he'll never forget," Pepper declared, raising her glass. "To Operation: Bombshell!" You and the others repeated the toast and clinked your glasses together. "Now, when are we going shopping??"

***

True to his word, Tony had pulled out all the stops for Bucky's birthday celebration. The best food, an open bar with the most talented mixologists, and a top-notch serving staff. For the entertainment, he secured a band to accompany you as would have been in the 1940s. 

Preparation for it kept you at work until late at night, more often than not. Because your job didn't always have regular hours, Tony set up an apartment for you in the Tower. That way, you wouldn't have to be concerned about safety on public transportation late at night. Nor would you have to worry about not getting enough sleep before an early morning meeting. You were grateful for the close quarters, because getting in before midnight was becoming a rarity.

On one of your many long shifts, you had forgotten something in your office, which was on the same level as the Avengers' living quarters. To get there, you had to walk past the common room, then head down a couple of hallways. Usually there wasn't anyone around this late, but tonight was the exception.

The elevator dinged to indicate you had reached your desired floor. As you approached the common room, you heard the voices of your favorite super soldier and his best friend. The closer you got, the better you were able to hear their conversation. Curious, you decided to eavesdrop a little, which, in retrospect, may not have been your best idea.

"What's the matter with you lately, Buck? Is it because your birthday is coming up, old man?" Steve teased.

"Old man? May I remind you, you're nearly as old as I am, punk," he muttered. "Anyway, nothin's the matter with me."

Steve rolled his eyes at the obvious untruth. "To put it mildly, you've been a real grump-ass lately, and I wanna know why," he paused. "It's your girl, isn't it?" Steve had confirmation of Bucky's feelings for you and wasted no opportunity to encourage him to confess to you about them.

"Language, Cap," Bucky sneered, then sighed deeply. "Yeah, it's my girl. She hasn't been able to be around very much these past few weeks. I miss her and it's starting to wear on me. I'm so used to seeing her amazing smile every day, hearing her sweet voice wish me good morning, feeling her hand on my shoulder."

You turned away from the two men, still deep in conversation, covering your mouth to muffle the sobs before they could burst out of your throat. Of course Bucky has a girlfriend, you thought. I guess the girls got it wrong this time. Those looks everyone says they see on his face are from those times he's thinking of her, not me. Whoever she is, she's one lucky lady, you noted somberly. With that last thought, you turned the corner and rushed down the hallway to your office.

***

At the sound of quick footsteps, Bucky scanned the area in time to see you dart around the corner to your office. Now's my chance, he grinned to himself. He leaped over the back of the couch and headed in your direction.

You unlocked your door and when the lights kicked on, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Tears had streamed down your face, leaving mascara tracks for anyone to see. You hurried into your executive washroom to clear up the damage.

With a wet washcloth, you began to wipe away the evidence of your heartbreak. Good for him, I guess. I hope whoever she is, she makes him happy. But this changes nothing, you reminded yourself. Bucky is my friend, and it's his birthday. I'm going to get up there and give it everything I've got. He deserves nothing less than the best, and this is the best gift I can give him, you resolved.

When you stepped out of the washroom, Bucky swore his heart skipped a beat with how beautiful you were to him. Though his brow furrowed a bit at your red, puffy eyes, and melancholy expression. Had you been crying? What happened? Who hurt you?? he wondered grimly.

Your eyes landed on your visitor, causing you to let out a gasp of surprise. "Sergeant Barnes! I wasn't expecting to see you here," you mentioned as you crossed the room to your desk.

Bucky moved towards your desk as well, wanting to get a better look at you, to be close to you. "Me and Stevie were hanging out in the common room, talking. Are you all right, doll? You look a little upset."

"Me? No, I'm okay, Bucky," you replied nervously. "Just a little tired, that's all. Tony's got me working on a project that's taking up a lot of my free time. Sorry I haven't been around much," you added with a brief smile.

"Must be an important project if Tony's got you involved. I did kinda notice when I haven't seen you as much as usual," he rubbed the back of his neck to calm his nerves. "Maybe after you're done with whatever you're working on, we can get together and make up for lost time?" he asked tentatively.

The look on his face held so much hope that you didn't dare turn him down. Above all, Bucky was your friend, and friends spent time together, right? "How about I get back to you about that after the project is all over, hmm?" you suggested.

Your response must have been the right one, as his face relaxed and broke out into that smile of his that you loved. "Great! Well, you be sure and let me know when it's all finished, and we'll find something to do together," he promised. You nodded in agreement.

Bucky stepped around your desk to stand at your side. He reached up with his right hand to trace his index finger along your cheek. "Get some rest, doll," he ordered softly. Your eyes closed involuntarily, right before he pressed his lips to your forehead. When your eyes finally opened again, you watched Bucky walking to the door. He paused in your doorway and looked back at you. "Sweet dreams, angel," he murmured.

As soon as he was gone, you dropped into your chair, placing your head in your hands. This was going to be harder than you thought, trying to manage a friendship with Bucky while he has a girlfriend. You decided to focus on your performance for his birthday party and hopefully everything else would fall into place. Once you picked up the file you came for in the first place, you re-locked your door and headed for your apartment for a night of restless sleep.

***

Two days before the party, Pepper persuaded Tony to give you the day off so she could take you and the rest of the girls out shopping in the city. In your mind, you pictured a long, slinky dress, straight out of a 1940s nightclub. You wanted something a sultry songstress would wear while crooning into a microphone, accompanied by an ensemble band.

You found the dress in the third boutique your group visited. As soon as you tried it on, you knew it was the right choice. It was a sparkly navy blue, A-line gown, floor-length, with spaghetti straps in the front that crisscrossed in the open back. It had a slit on the left that ended halfway up your thigh, revealing more leg than you were normally comfortable with. However, it was for Bucky, so it was added to the day's purchases.

Back at the Tower, Bucky had just finished his shower following a particularly intense sparring session with Steve. Before settling in the common room, he stopped in the kitchen for a plum muffin, which you had recently baked, and a bottle of water. Also in attendance were Tony, Sam, Peter, and even Thor was on Midgard after a long absence. "Lord Stark, I have not seen any of our lady friends around today. What is going on?"

"Well, you see, Asgardian Barbie, this morning, Pepper gathered up the ladies and took them shopping in the city," Tony replied. "Barnes' birthday bash is happening in a couple of days, and they all needed new dresses for the occasion," he explained.

Bucky heard Tony mention the shopping trip and realized he hadn't seen you at all today. He wondered if you had accompanied them, and if you would be at his party. He was walking from the kitchen, but in a moment of distraction, he bumped into Steve. The water bottle flew out of his hands and crashed to the floor, creating a puddle of water. He swiftly grabbed some paper towels, and as he cleaned up his mess, he asked Tony if you would be there.

Tony shrugged. "I don't know, Barnes, why don't you ask her yourself?" he gestured with a tilt of his head. Bucky's eyes followed the sound of giggling and other happy noises from you and the others as you exited the elevators.

In addition to your dress, shoes, and some accessories, you had brought back pizza for dinner. You and the girls had a late lunch, complete with cocktails, which had started to wear off in the car on the way back to the Tower. "Hey, guys! How's everything going? I shopped 'till I dropped, and I really didn't feel like cooking tonight. So, pizza it is, dig in!"

You left the pizzas on a table and headed for the kitchen to get some plates for everyone. Bucky stealthily followed you to see if you needed any help. After removing the right number of plates from the cabinet, you turned to leave, only to run straight into his chest.

"Whoa there, doll, careful. Here, I can help you with that," he chuckled as he took the stack of plates out of your hands.

"Thank you, Bucky. I'll put some drinks on a tray and bring them in," you told him.

Bucky passed out some of the plates to those already eating, then left the rest of them near the pizza boxes. He returned to the kitchen to see you still pulling drinks from the refrigerator. "So, um, my birthday party's in a few days," he started. You hummed and nodded in response. "Was kinda hoping--er--wondering if you were going to be there?" he asked.

He's so cute when he's all flustered and shy. I wonder if he's that way with her, you thought wistfully. You mentally shook off the negative notions and graced him with a smile. "Of course I'll be there, Bucky! I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Great! If you're getting ready here, I can stop by whichever room you're in. And I'd be honored to escort you to the party," he offered.

"That would normally be great, Bucky. It's just that I have a prior commitment that night, so I'll be a little late. However, I promise that I will be there to help you celebrate," you affirmed as you carefully placed the tray on the table. "Think it's time to collect my shopping bags and head to my apartment," you added while trying to stifle a yawn.

He looked around and pointed at the stack, which you nodded to confirm they were yours. "I've got them for you, sweets. Lead the way," Bucky replied. He picked up your bags with one hand, then held out his other elbow for you to take.

"Thank you, Sarge," you giggled as you slipped your arm around his and waved goodbye to everyone with your free hand.

As you walked the halls towards your apartment, you chatted about how you'd spent your day shopping, while he was training with Steve. All too soon, you reached your apartment, thus it was time for you to part ways. You were insistent that you could carry your bags inside, but Bucky would have none of it. He was equally as adamant to fulfill his duties as a gentleman and wouldn't let them go, placing them on your couch.

Bucky realized that he'd never been in your Tower apartment before today. In looking around, he noticed the personal touches you had scattered about the space, which were perfectly you. There was a soft-looking quilt draped over the back of the couch, a pair of fluffy slippers under a chair, and some photos in frames on various flat surfaces.

His eyes soon landed on the stuffed bear he'd won for you at Coney Island, sitting on a small, cushioned chair near your bookcase. He smiled to himself at the black sleeve with the gold thread woven through it that you must've stitched to the bear's left arm. There was no mistaking that the bear was meant to signify him, which warmed his heart. He kept his thoughts about it to himself while he waited for you to return to the living room area.

"So what's in the bags, doll?" he grinned mischievously as he started to peek into one of them.

You reached over and nudged him out of the way so he couldn't snoop in any of the other bags. "Oh, no you don't, mister," you interjected. "This is all 'top secret' girl stuff. You'll have to wait and see it at your birthday party, not a minute before," you added loftily.

Bucky pretended to be shocked at your refusal, then switched to giving you puppy dog eyes as a way to sway you. "Aw, come on, sweets. Please?"

You laughed at his attempts to convince you, but you waved him off. "Does that really work on your girl, the puppy dog eyes?" you asked in what you hoped was a playful tone.

A confused look briefly crossed Bucky's face at your question. "Must need to work on it a little harder, then," he murmured. "If it's okay, I'm going to head back to get some pizza before Steve and Sam eat it all," he chuckled.

Suddenly you realized he'd completely bypassed the food you'd brought in so he could walk you back to your apartment. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Bucky! Of course you don't need to stick around here with me. I've got it from here."

"Not for nothing, but if I wasn't so hungry, I'd stay here with you for a while. Have a good night, and I'll see you around, angel," he remarked.

You walked him to the door and when he had taken one step across the threshold, you called his name. He turned around to face you and in a moment of impulse, you reached up on your tiptoes and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. "Good night, Bucky," you whispered, then gently closed the door.

On the other side, Bucky stood and stared at your apartment door. His right hand reached up and touched the spot on his cheek that still tingled a bit from when you kissed him. A smile slowly crept across his face until it stretched from ear to ear. He didn't recall how he got back to the main living area, but he definitely remembered how it felt when you'd kissed him good night.

Bucky's dazed demeanor didn't escape Sam's notice, and he certainly wasn't going to let it go. "Get some sugar tonight, did you, Bucky?" he cackled. When Bucky didn't react, Sam commented further. "Look at him, he's so in love, all he can think about is his girl."

That seemed to snap Bucky out of his trance, because he rolled his eyes at Sam's comments. He grabbed a plate and started piling it high with slices of pizza. "Besides, a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," he smirked, which started Sam's laughter again. Bucky rolled his eyes and took a seat next to Steve on the couch.

"So.....?" Steve prompted.

Bucky swallowed his bite of pizza and turned to meet Steve's gaze. His neutral expression gave way to a broad smile. That told him all he needed to know, that something had happened with you to make his best friend happy. Steve was sure that the two of you belonged together, and he was more than content with the notion.

***

On the night of Bucky's birthday party, your room was a flurry of activity. All the ladies decided to get ready there, except for Pepper. She promised Tony she would arrive at the venue a little early to help him greet people. You agreed that before the end of the night, a picture would be taken of all of you, dressed in your best.

Down the hall, Bucky was putting the finishing touches on his suit. Truth be told, he'd much rather be wearing something a bit more casual for his birthday party. Since you told him you'd be there, he decided to make an effort to dress up, but chose to skip the tie.

The suit was all black, with satin peak lapels on the jacket. He left the first two buttons undone on the shirt to show off his dog tags. He'd swapped out his regular boots in favor of a pair of well-polished dress shoes.

Bucky gave himself one last look in the mirror and was adjusting the collar of his shirt when Steve popped his head into the room. "Hey, Buck, happy birthday," he grinned. "You about ready to go? Stark's already there, greeting people with Pepper."

A final check of his overall appearance and Bucky declared himself ready to go. He was feeling a little nervous, especially since he normally didn't make such a big deal of celebrating his birthday. But Tony insisted, and Stark's parties were rarely, if ever, boring so he gave in. Besides, he was looking forward to seeing you there and hopefully steal a dance or two with you. "Yep, let's head out, punk," he smirked.

***

Natasha and the other girls had somehow snuck you out of the Tower and down to where Happy Hogan was waiting with the car. He shuttled you over to the venue where Bucky's birthday party was being held. Once there, he hurried around to your door to help you out of the car and wished you good luck.

Behind the stage curtain, you nervously paced back and forth, waiting for your cue to take your place out front. You ran through the lyrics in your head and practiced some of your dance routine. One by one, the band members arrived and took their places, then worked on tuning their instruments. 

About ten minutes before your performance was to start, Natasha and Wanda found you doing some last-minute rehearsing. Nat informed you that Bucky had arrived and that he was sitting at the far end of the dance floor, with everyone else filled in on either side. Before they left, they each offered some words of wisdom.

"You're going to do great, honey," Wanda assured you. "With that voice of yours, you'll probably knock Thor and Loki all the way back to Asgard." The three of you shared a laugh at the image.

"Nah, there's only one man out there she wants to impress, and he has been checking the doors like a hawk for you every time they open. And Barnes isn't my type, but let me tell you, he is looking like a delicious snack and dressed to kill," Natasha remarked. "Now get out there and use that beautiful voice of yours to tell him how you feel, sweetie," she nudged with a kind smile.

You gave each of them a hug and told them to let Tony know you were ready for everything to start. The band was putting the last minute touches on everything, adjusting their ties, or making sure the music was open to the right page. With a deep breath, you walked to your mark on the stage and waited for Tony to start the show.

"Good evening, good evening, good evening, everyone," he greeted. "We all know why we're here tonight, so let's give a warm birthday greeting to our favorite Tin Man, Bucky Barnes!"

Everyone around Bucky wished him "Happy Birthday" with a handshake, a shout-out, or even just a wave. "To commemorate his 107th trip around the sun, we have some first-class entertainment for everyone. This particular act was chosen specifically with the Birthday Boy in mind." Bucky gave Tony a puzzled look at the remark. "Without further ado, I give you your elusive Songbird."

As Tony took his seat, the house lights dimmed until they finally went out. The curtain drew back to reveal a '40s-type band, with men dressed in black pants and white jackets. There was a horn section, a string section, complete with a stand-up bass, and a percussion section.

You stood in the middle of the stage, with your back turned to the crowd. A deep breath, then the opening verse:

Birds flying high You know how I feel Sun in the sky You know how I feel Breeze driftin' on by You know how I feel

It's a new dawn It's a new day It's a new life For me And I'm feeling good

The last line is said while looking over your left shoulder. As soon as you say the last word, the band's horn section kicks up and a spotlight turns on to highlight you and your sparkly dress.

Bucky's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. There you were, his girl, his songbird, standing before him. You were dressed like he would've seen you in a nightclub from the '40s, complete with the red lipstick and the Victory Rolls in your hair. He sat on the edge of his seat, thoroughly hypnotized by your performance.

Fish in the sea You know how I feel River running free You know how I feel Blossom on a tree You know how I feel

With the microphone in one hand and your dress in the other, you sauntered down the steps in the front of the stage. Hips swaying, you first approached Bruce and laid a hand on his cheek. As you walked away from him, you gave him a finger wave. Then you sashayed over to where Thor was sitting on the other side. He reached out, but you stepped away before he could make contact. You wagged your finger and tossed him a wink over your shoulder, bringing a mischievous grin to his face.

By this time, Bucky was having a difficult time sitting still as he watched you flirt with his fellow Avengers. His eyes never left yours, focusing on your every movement as you worked your way across the floor to him. His hands itched to pull you onto his lap and lay claim to any part of your body you would let him explore. He longed to whisper about his feelings for you in your delicate shell of an ear.

Sam and Steve were keeping a close eye on Bucky, enjoying the effect you were having on him. At one point, Sam stood up from his chair and started walking towards you as if he were getting in on the act. Before he could take two steps, Bucky grabbed his jacket and forced him to return to his chair, Bucky's eyes never straying from you. Sam knew his point had been made, and mostly behaved himself for the rest of the number.

It's a new dawn It's a new day It's a new life It's a new life For me

And I'm feeling good I'm feeling good

Bucky was perched on the edge of his chair, entirely under your spell. Once you were finally close enough, you draped one arm around his neck and with your first two fingers, you tilted his head up. You gazed deeply into those baby blues you loved so much and noticed that only a thin rim of color was visible. When you leaned over, you put your lips close to his right ear, and whispered, "Happy Birthday, Sarge."

"It was you," he whispered back. You nodded, finally providing him with confirmation that it was your voice he's been hearing in his dreams for the past few weeks. Almost reverently, he grazed the knuckles of his right hand along your cheek. You pressed a lingering kiss to his left cheek, then turned back towards the stage, your hips swaying as you went.

On stage, the band was finishing up with the last few measures of the song while you resumed your mark, keeping your back to the crowd. As the band continued to play, you replaced the microphone in its stand and locked eyes with Bucky over your left shoulder. You gave him an exaggerated wink and blew him a kiss. When the last few notes died, the area thundered with applause, all except Bucky, who was still in his chair, stunned into silence.

As the curtains closed, you quickly exited the stage, thanking the musicians for their fabulous performance. Natasha and Wanda were waiting in the wings, where they watched the entire show and couldn't wait to congratulate you.

"Oh my God, that was amazing!!" Wanda shrieked and enveloped you into a bone-crushing hug. She bounced up and down a couple of times until she finally released you, a beaming smile on her face.

Natasha strolled over to you, gave you a wink and a knowing smirk, then pulled you to her side in a half-hug. "Knew you could do it. Bucky had his eyes on you the entire time, couldn't look at anything or anyone else but you. Still think he considers you two as 'just friends'?"

You sobered a little at her remark, remembering the conversation between him and Steve from that night you stopped at your office. Before you could tell her about it, you heard the sound of a throat being cleared. The curtain was pulled back to reveal Steve, a sheepish grin on his face and his eyes locked on you.

"Um, excuse me, but the guest of honor requests your presence for a private conversation. I have been sent to escort you to the balcony, where he's prepared to wait all night if he has to," Steve explained.

Glancing nervously at your best friends, you were met with nothing but encouragement and assurance from their gazes. Though you were nervous to hear what Bucky had to say, you felt that you owed him a chance to say his piece and let the chips fall where they may. "Okay, Steve. Lead the way, please," you replied.

Steve grinned as you curled your hand around his offered arm. "By the way, you were wonderful up there tonight. Just like the sirens me and Buck used to see on stage in the nightclubs. You know, back when we were young and full of hormones," he joked.

You lightly swatted his arm as you joined in his laughter. "Thank you, Steve. That was probably one of the bravest things I've ever done. So far, anyway. I sure hope Bucky liked it," you added.

He snorted in response. "Oh, trust me dollface, he loved it. Couldn't stop staring at you," he assured you.

On the walk over to the balcony area, many of your friends congratulated you on your singing and performance. You smiled and thanked each of them for their comments. All too soon, you were standing at the doors that led you to Bucky. A flight of butterflies took off in your stomach at full speed as you desperately tried to regain your composure.

Then you remembered what awaited you on the other side, out on the terrace. A man you were grateful to have met and considered to be one of your closest friends. A man who had always been kind to you, despite what life had put him through. Someone that made your world a better place by being in it. You couldn't see your future unfolding without him in it, nor did you ever want to.

"He's waiting for you," Steve gently reminded you. He untucked your hand from his side and kissed the back of it before returning to the party. You pushed down on the handle and swung the door open.

Bucky was standing with his hands clasped behind him, staring out over the ledge at the horizon. The noise volume from the traffic and other sounds of the city wasn't as loud as it was at the lower levels. His face lit up at seeing you, as the echo of your high-heeled shoes on the patio surface caused him to reverse his position.

"Hello, Bucky," you greeted.

"Hiya, doll," he replied, a shy smile gracing his lips. "Probably shoulda known it was you that day I heard the singing in the locker room," he grinned. His hand slowly reached up to brush his knuckles along your jawline. "You were incredible up there, sweetheart."

"Thank you, that's kind of you to say. I'm glad you enjoyed it," you replied shyly.

"I absolutely, 100%, loved it, doll. Reminds me of those clubs me and Steve used to sneak into so we could go dancing. Where'd you learn to sing like that?" he wondered.

"My grandparents kept a large vinyl collection of music from that time. My brothers and I used to spend summers with them, and it was in all the old movies we used to watch. I guess it kinda grew on me," you giggled with a shrug.

Bucky threw his head back and laughed. "Well, I'm certainly glad it did, because that was one of the best birthday presents I've ever received in my life." His hand brushed back a stray lock of hair and tucked it behind your ear, while his eyes shifted their focus from your eyes to your lips. He slowly leaned closer to you, giving you every chance to resist what he was about to do.

Suddenly your index finger was pressed against his lips, halting his advances. "Bucky, wait. Not that I haven't thought about this, but what about your girl? Isn't she here with you at the party tonight?" you worried.

Bucky gave you a puzzled look. "My girl?" he wondered. "What are you talking about, sweets?"

"I heard you and Steve in the common room. It was late and I had forgotten something in my office. You said you missed your girl and that you were so used to seeing her 'amazing smile every day'. How it was starting to wear on you about not hearing her wish you good morning or feel her hand on your shoulder," you explained.

Bucky saw how your gaze had dropped to the floor and felt you slipping from his grasp. As he racked his brain trying to recall what conversation you were referring to, you continued.

"I mean, until I heard you talking that night, I thought 'maybe....', and the girls all seemed convinced as well. But after what I'd heard...." you trailed off. "All I would ever want is for you to be happy with someone, Bucky. Even if that someone isn't me," you whispered.

You started to feel the burning of tears behind your eyes and started to move towards the door. No way did you want to break down in front of the man you loved, on his birthday, for something that wasn't his fault. You were determined to hold back until you had returned to your room.

But Bucky had other ideas.

He was still holding your hand as your steps took you closer to the exit. He gently squeezed it, which caught your attention and halted your escape. You turned to face him and when your watery eyes caught his, you saw only compassion and a hint of another emotion you couldn't quite name.

"Now, darlin', there's only one girl I can think of that I want to call mine. She's smart, funny, a bit sassy, but sweet. She's thoughtful, always thinking about others before she thinks of herself. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever met, and has the voice of an angel. I have missed her these past few weeks, but I'm guessing it's because she wanted this to be my best birthday ever. And that's made me fall even more in love with her," he declared.

As Bucky was giving his speech, he inched closer to you, step by step, until there was barely any space between you. His right hand drifted upwards to curl around your neck, his thumb brushing gently along your cheek. "You love me?" you whispered.

Bucky nodded, a tender smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Oh baby, ever since I met you, I've wanted to call you mine, but never thought you'd feel the same. Nor did I think I deserved to be with someone as wonderful as you."

Now it was your turn. "Bucky, you deserve all that this world has to offer and more. I've had feelings of more than friendship for you for a long time, probably since we met. Thought you were way out of my league, though. Parts of this world haven't been kind to you, but you haven't let it destroy the best parts of you. Past and present, all of it makes you the man I've fallen in love with. I love you, James Buchanan Barnes," you affirmed.

Bucky surged forward, crashing his mouth into yours with a groan of satisfaction. At first, the kiss was dominant, his lips moving almost feverishly against yours. Then he slowed it down, wanting to convey every ounce of passion he felt for you. He draped your arms around his neck, then pulled you closer into his embrace until you were flush with his body. Your fingers played with the short hairs at the nape of his neck, causing him to shudder. You smiled against his lips, which created an opening for Bucky's tongue to slip in and deepen the kiss, taking you by surprise.

The need for oxygen finally broke the kiss, leaving both of you panting, trying to catch your breath. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he remarked. "Definitely worth the wait."

You giggled in response. "You don't know how many times I've imagined or dreamed about kissing you. Reality is so much better," you replied.

The two of you stood, perfectly comfortable holding each other, until the balcony door opened to reveal Steve on the other side. He cleared his throat to get your attention, averting his eyes but not before you noticed a teasing smirk on his face. "Uh, Tony wanted me to let you know that it's time for cake and for you to open your gifts. Although...." he trailed off with a grin.

"Hey, punk, show some respect for me and my girl," Bucky playfully growled. Then he turned his attention to you. "You ready to go back out there and show 'em who you belong to?" he asked in a seductive voice.

"Only if you're okay with showing 'em who you belong to," you countered through half-lidded eyes and a sultry smile.

"Absolutely," he agreed. After one more searing kiss designed to make Steve a little uncomfortable, you separated. Bucky took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers and led you both back to the party. When everyone saw your joined hands, cheers arose throughout the crowd in celebration of your happiness. You both laughed when you saw money change hands between a few of your friends, Tony with Natasha and Sam with Steve.

You turned to face Bucky, resting your palm on his cheek and sighing when you felt him lean into your touch. "Happy Birthday, Bucky," you whispered.

Bucky tilted his head to kiss your palm. "Best birthday ever, doll," he remarked.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags:

@katelyn--renee @lassie-bird @emoryhemsworth @hintsofhoney @wayward-dreamer @never--doubt @akshi8278 @rooweighton @phoenixisred @krazykelly @imherefordeanandbones @missvelvetsstuff

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagines

[ermesskiss]

what music I think jjk students would listen to

✧ ft: yuji, megumi, nobara, maki, todo, yuta, haraki, kirara ✧ a/n: been thinking about this for a minute, and I decided to write out my opinions/hcs

jjk adult version here + jjk character playlist works here

reblogs and comments are always welcomed!!

· · ───────────── 𖥸 ────────────── · ·

✦ yuji

➥ he definitely listens to pop music with overall good vibes. I also think he would listen to R&B and rap, but nothing that is too vulgar, he is the stereotypical sunshine character so I don't think it would be in character for him to listen to music that is highly explicit

➥ I feel like yuji definitely listens to music from the 2000s and 2010s, the type of music you would hear on the radio as a kid during that time, the nostalgic type stuff,

➥ I feel like he's a big fan of some of the old Drake music and Kanye's graduation album. I also think he would love Tyler, The Creator

songs

♪ Stronger: Kanye West ♪ Loving Is Easy: Rex Orange County ♪ Games On Your Phone: 24kGoldn ♪ Glitter: Tyler, The Creator ♪ Headlines: Drake

──────────────────────────────

✦ megumi

➥ my favorite emo, he for sure listens to dorky music, such as Weezer (hence, gege made Island In The Sun his theme song), probably some alt and rock

➥ though everyone calls megumi emo I don't think he would listen to sad/depressing 24/7 unless something horrible happened to him (the recent manga chapter) I think overall for somebody as grumpy as megumi, he does listen to more upbeat, positive music

➥ I think that he would listen to older music, stuff from the late '90s and early 2000s; I honestly think he listens to a little of everything in regards to the era. honestly whatever he does listen to relates to him or has some kind of story or meaning to it, if yk what I mean

songs

♪ You Get What You Give: New Radicals ♪ QUEER: BROCKHAMPTON ♪ Time to Pretend: MGMT ♪ I Want A Dog: Weezer ♪ Wake Me Up When September Ends: Green Day

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✦ nobara

➥ listens to more women artists than men (a true girls girl) regardless of the music genre, she's going to be more interested in women singers

➥ since nobara is very confident in herself and her abilities, she listens to music that makes her feel confident. Seeing her listening to sad music as she self-loath isn't in character for her

➥ a large majority of the music she enjoys is queer-coded (she's a lesbian, fight me about it)

songs

♪ Brand New City: Mitski ♪ Cherry Bomb: The Runaways ♪ Silk Chiffon: MUNA ♪ Broken Clocks: SZA ♪ Just A Girl: No Doubt

──────────────────────────────

✦ maki

➥ I get the vibes that she listens to rock music and also likes pop and some R&B; it’s a mix of all three tbh

➥ similar to Nobara, I can see her listening to music that makes her feel powerful, little music that is self-loathing; she’s trying to keep up with her stern and strong appearance

➥ is a Megan thee stallion fan, listens to her while training

songs

♪ Conceited: SZA ♪ I’m So Sick: by Flyleaf ♪ Did It On’em: Nicki Minaj ♪ Cocky Af: Megan Thee Stallion ♪ Hard Times: Paramore

──────────────────────────────

✦ todo

➥ All upbeat music, not a single sad or depressing song on his playlist

➥ Because it’s all upbeat music, he usually listens to rap and R&B. His workout playlist is the only playlist he listens to

➥ Also listens to music from female artists that are his type (Megan Thee Stallion, etc.), and he tends to listen to music that is explicit about women

songs

♪ Baby Got Back: Sir Mix-A-Lot ♪ Started From the Bottom: Drake ♪ Faneto: Chief Keef ♪ You Better Move: Lil Uzi Vert ♪ DOGTOOTH: Tyler, The Creator

──────────────────────────────

✦ yuta

➥ I think Yuta's musical taste combines Yuji’s and Megumi’s. On the one hand, he’s a lover boy, sunshine MC, and on the other hand, he has an emo/self-loathing part of his personality

➥ Given the genres, I would say he would listen to rock, alternative, bedroom pop, and Indi

➥ I think that yuta is open to listening to any type of music, he's interested in hearing other people's favorite music and he's also a bit of people pleaser so even if he doesn't like he'll agree so the other person doesn't get upset

songs

♪ Can’t Dance, Don’t Ask Me: Weezer ♪ Creep: Radiohead ♪ Day ‘N’ Nite: Kid Cudi ♪ Television/So Far So Good: Rex Orange County ♪ Bad Habit: Steve Lacy

──────────────────────────────

✦ hakari

➥ Listens to rap and R&B, without a doubt, and maybe some rock music from time to time

➥ Knowing that it is canon that he is a rebel and doesn’t like following the rules, I can see it fitting him also the fact that he’s a bookie and a player

➥ he's a drake fan

songs

♪ Baby Keem: Baby Keem ♪ Bad and Boujee: Migos ft. Lil Uzi Vert ♪ I Don’t Know Dem: Chief Keef ♪ F**kin Problems: A$Ap Rocky ♪ Crazy Story: King Von

──────────────────────────────

✦ kirara

➥ Based on their appearance and fashion style, they listen to alternative, rock, and dance/electronic

➥ kirara definitely giving off 2000s emo type music

➥ Since hakari and kirara are always together, kirara started to like hakari music more

songs

♪ freak show: Punkinloveee ♪ Ginseng 2002: Yung lean ♪ Helena: My Chemical Romance ♪ GOOD LOYAL THOTS: Odetari ♪ Hands Up!: 6arelyhuman

──────────────────────────────

✧ a/n: I had a hard time with a few characters; you would think, since I have over 1.9k liked songs, it would be easier lol. Anyway, feel free to comment your opinions and/or if you agree or not

#yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #nobara kugisaki #maki zenin #mai zenin #inumaki toge #aoi todo #yuta okkotsu #kirara hoshi #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk hc #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #hakari kinji

[hitomisuzuya]

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Degradation. Praise. A sprinkle of sensory deprivation. Possessive behavior. College AU

Tagging @xxventiswindblumexx cause they linked me to this playlist that had random voice lines of Scara speaking in the middle of song and it distracted me so many times. They watched my struggle on chat lol. Song choice is ET by Katy Perry.

Scaramouche had no idea if you could feel his glare piercing into you. He sat on the edge of his bed, watching you work.

Your hair was in those long loose pony tails you divided your hair into sometimes. He especially loved to pull on them, especially if he wanted a kiss or something more.

He could smell that you'd changed your perfume to the scent you wore in the winter months. He thought the light pink color of the perfume in the bottle didn't suit you the first time he had sprayed it on his wrist so he could smell you. He doubted you knew he'd first done that while you were taking some new first years out on a trail ride. But the scent, the scent suites you well, he thought. Scaramouche was positive winter had a scent, it would smell like your perfume.

Then let the world be sentenced a lifetime of frost and snow.

Scaramouche heard you hum softly to yourself, some song you'd heard on the radio earlier.

He'd had enough. How dare you make noises that weren't being caused by his touch. How dare you smell so good.

But most of all, how dare you act so composed with your precious concentration unfazed, not focused on him, especially now that you were alone with him. Scaramouche knew he could snap your concentration like a twig underneath his feet. Even better that you were focused on something horse related. It was the extra cherry on top for him.

I mean, it must be so exhausting, concentrating so hard when you were around horses. One wrong move and things could go badly in an instant. All it would take was a single loud noise.

Scaramouche smacked a hand down on his desk next to your hand. He got a sigh but nothing more than that. He'd made corner of the paper flutter a little. He reached up and tugged on one of your ponytails, curling the end around his fingers. His eyes widened when he saw goosebumps prickle onto your skin.

Time to push a bit more.

He tucked a some stray strands of hair that had fallen loose from your ponytails behind your ear. "This isn't important to you anymore," he murmured, husky in your ear.

You shivered when you felt his breath lick at your ear. You stiffened. "I need to get this done, Scara. I told her that I would help her with this new horse," you said, doing your best to ignore him.

Scaramouche took the pencil out of your hand, snapping it in two, his black nails contrasting with the wood. "No, you don't. You said yourself that they aren't a good match. She is too *green and the horse is too young. She can barely saddle him without crying to you for help. Don't coddle her. She probably thinks she is your equal."

He laughed, sounding like honey in your ears. "Look at me, the nerdy horse girl is making me use terms I don't understand. I'm just as pathetic as you are."

You flicked the pieces of the pencil across his desk, brushing off the paper filled with notes and tips. "Takes someone green to know someone green, Scara," you replied.

His eyebrow twitched.

"I don't think you heard me, slut. I believe I made myself clear that you are finished helping her. It is not your job to look after them. Especially not when I want your attention instead," he snapped, yanking on one of your ponytails. "These are my rabbits feet to tug on as I please. You were wearing your hair like this when we first met."

"As their Captain, it is my job," you said firmly. You needed to have a firm hand to handle Scaramouche. He loved that about you. Usually everyone was afraid to talk back to him. But not you. "Five minutes, okay?"

Scaramouche's fingers brushed against your throat, hovering a hand over your eyes. "Those five minutes have already passed," his hand dipped down into your shirt, groping one of your breasts.

You would focus on him like he wanted.

"I can hear your heart starting to pound. You are frantically trying to figure out where my hand is going to go next. I wish I could see the look on your face," he pinch your nipple outside of your bra, his mouth watering when he pulled your first sigh of pleasure.

Time to stop on your concentration and composure and grind it into dust.

Scaramouche's hand left your bra to trace his fingers along the length of your neck, dipping into your shoulders and down your arm. "Your body is begging for my touch. And your mouth certainly doesn't lie either. You are starting to moan whether you can hear yourself or not." Unbuttoning your pants, he probed his fingers against your clit, making a damp patch form. "It doesn't take much to wind you up. You are already wet for me."

You moved one of your legs so that your knee rested against the side of his desk. "You are making it hard to concentrate.." you trailed off, grinding up into his fingers.

Now he had you right where he wanted. Time to make you squirm a little. Dent your pride and make you submit completely. "Admit it, say you would rather ride me instead and I may grant you the privilege even though you back talked me."

"You are impossible..ahhh.." his fingers dipped into your panties and between your folds. The sensation was heightened from lack of sight.

"You want my fingers, don't you. Just say it, your time belongs to me first and foremost. I don't give just any whore my time and attention. Only you have that honor," he rubbed the pads of his fingers against your clit, teasing his fingers at your entrance.

You choke back a whine, pressing your thighs together for my friction. You hated that he made you feel so weak so fast. Maybe some part of you wanted to act undignified, that you were tired of always conducting yourself with a straight posture and a polite tone.

"What, no comeback for me. If that's how it's gonna be then," Scaramouche paused in thought for a moment. Taking his fingers off of your pussy earned the sweetest sound of desperation. He pushed two fingers into your mouth, pressing down in your tongue so he pump his fingers in your mouth. He laughed again, making you moan as you sucked on his fingers.

"You always suck on my fingers like you suck on my cock. Your mouth looks the prettiest wrapped around it. Now say it, kitten. Say you want me and I'll gladly let your slutty mouth go to work." Scaramouche removed his fingers, tugging the your hair ties out your hair. "I'll need all of your hair to fuck your throat. Now use your words."

You couldn't offer him a response as he pulled you the your hair to your feet. Instead, you showed him by sinking to your knees.

*green means a beginner.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #suzu after dark

[myfaveficrecs]

Remember This?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader

Word Count: 2,011

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, mentions of injuries/medical procedures

AN: I am dipping my toes back into the writing world for @roosterforme​’s #love is in the air tgm challenge. My song is, “I’ll Make Love to You” by Boyz II Men. Hopefully this isn’t a flop! Happy Valentine’s Day! XOXO

You enjoyed your job immensely. Helping people had always been something that was extremely important to you, and you were lucky enough to be able to do what you were passionate about. You finished medical school 3 years ago and now you were employed at your local VA Hospital part time, your other half being on base with your husband, Bradley. You had been high school sweethearts and you were still going on like it was your honeymoon.

You were overjoyed when you learned you were going to be able to help soldiers from all branches from all over the country. You helped veteran soldiers with rehabilitation mostly. Post war injuries that needed extra help and attention when they were able to come back home. 

Bradley and his squadron were all in the Navy. Fanboy and Halo had done 3 tours in Iraq and Afghanistan while Bradley had done 2 recently. Hangman was almost killed in combat 4 days before he was due to come home from his last deployment. The others had thankfully come home in one piece, only minor scrapes and injuries from their time overseas. Bradley hadn’t been as lucky. 

Bradley had been shot once in the chest inches away from his heart, and shrapnel had sliced through his face, neck, and arm. He was lucky to be alive but thankfully the doctors he had were good at what they do. They were able to save his life but not without complications. He had severe nerve damage through his left shoulder and bicep and his collarbone had been shattered and completely reconstructed. When he was sent home, he started showing up to the hospital you worked at for his physical therapy, often riding home with you at the end of the day.

You had just finished with a patient when you were heading to your office, passing by the nurses’ station on your way. You dropped the patient’s chart off at the desk but before you could start heading in the direction you desired, your charge nurse, Rebecca, stopped you with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“You have a visitor.”

“A visitor?”

“If you don’t want him, I’ll take him.”

She just shrugged her shoulders noncommittally with a smirk, walking away from you to continue your filing.  Looking at your basket you noticed you had no patients waiting and walked to your office wondering who could be waiting for you.

As soon as you walked into your office your face broke out in a large smile. You knew it was your husband without a doubt. His 6’1” frame standing in front of your large window overlooking the city, broad shoulders, long legs, tight little ass, and hair with perfect curls for pulling.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise.” You smiled while shutting your door, taking off your lab jacket and throwing it over the back of one of the chairs in your office. He turned around quickly and smiled at you, holding his arms open wide for you to walk into, bringing you into a warm and tight embrace.

“Yeah, I had my last appointment today and thought I’d come up and see you.”

“How’d it go?”

“Good. Almost as good as before.”

“That’s awesome, honey.”

“You don’t have any patients do you?”

“No, I think my next appointment is in another 45 minutes, why?”

With a mischievous look and a flick of the lock on your door, Bradley looks towards your desk and says, “Hey Alexa! Play my baby maker playlist.” You couldn’t help but laugh, burying your face in his chest as “I’ll Make Love to You,” starts to echo in your office.  

“Haven’t heard this song since the night before my last deployment...you remember that night?” He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“Of course, I do! But Roo, we can’t do that here!”

“We can. I locked the door. C’mon baby, I thought we could celebrate a little early.” He could see the slight crack in your resolve and pounced on the seconds of vulnerability, the pride. “Besides, Rebecca is probably listening right outside the door right now anyway.:

Close your eyes, make a wish And blow out the candlelight For tonight is just your night We're gonna celebrate, all through the night Pour the wine, light the fire Girl your wish is my command I submit to your demands

Bradley wrapped one hand into your hair, gently pulling your head back, tracing his nose up your cheek. Pulling back slightly he hovers his lips over your own, a little quirk to his lips when he pulls millimeters away when you try and connect. Once, twice more before he lets out a breathy chuckle at your frustration, finally crashing his plush lips to yours in a passionate kiss. His other hand pushing into your lower back and pulling you flush against him, swaying to the harmony of the song. When he pulled away you were both breathless and dizzy. Desire had pooled in your core, and you could feel an impressive bulge digging into your stomach. “You gonna let me love you like it’s that night all over again? Right here, right now?”

He didn’t give you any time to respond before he crashed his lips back onto yours once again. This time the kiss was all tongue and teeth. He loved to bite on your lower lip when you kissed, and it always managed to send shivers down your spine. As soon as you let out a moan, he knew he had you right where he wanted you and he smiled against your mouth. He quickly picked you up, digging his hands underneath your ass cheeks and plopped you unceremoniously on top of your desk, pushing everything out of his way to give you enough room to lie down. Your movements were frantic, knowing time was limited, ironically the same as the night before he left. 

I will do anything, girl you need only ask I'll make love to you Like you want me to And I'll hold you tight Baby, all through the night I'll make love to you When you want me to And I will not let go 'Til you tell me to

Bradley was usually a rough lover, but he always managed to make you feel loved and protected, no matter what you were doing, and the sex was no different. His touch held a tenderness; a reaffirming touch that he would always be there to care for you.

You quickly pulled his shirt off of his broad shoulders and pulled it up over his head to reveal his chiseled chest and abs. Reaching up you pulled Bradley down toward you, kissing over his scars from the old wounds, shrapnel, and surgeries. This was something you always did, letting him know you were thankful he was alive and in your arms. The reminder that he was still beautiful in your eyes.

Girl relax, let's go slow I ain't got nowhere to go I'm just gon' concentrate on you Girl, are you ready? It's gon' be a long night Throw your clothes (throw your clothes) on the floor (on the floor) I'm gonna take my clothes off too I've made plans to be with you Girl whatever you ask me, you know I can do

Bradley pulled your hair and moved your head back far enough to stretch your neck long, licking a broad stripe and ending with a quick nip underneath your ear. You let out an obscene moan making him pull back from you and stand up as straight as he could while leaning over your desk for support. “You gotta be quiet, baby.” He practically ripped your scrub pants and panties off of you in one quick pull, your shoes flying off along with them from the force of his tug. He placed your feet wide along the edge of your desk, opening yourself up to him. “Fuck Y/N…you’re already soaking wet.” 

“I’m always wet for you, Bradley…now are you just going to stare or are you going to make love to your wife?” 

I'll make love to you Like you want me to And I'll hold you tight Baby, all through the night I'll make love to you When you want me to And I will not let go 'Til you tell me to

Bradley’s demeanor instantly changed. His eyes quickly shot up to yours, narrowing into slits. He clenched his jaw making it tick, and he snapped his belt open, never once taking his eyes from yours. The intensity bringing a new wave of slick rushing out of you. There was no reply from him, his face telling you everything you needed to know. He was most definitely going to love you, and he was going to make sure you remembered it. 

Pulling his jeans and boxers down just below his ass, his erection sprang free. It was long and thick, steadily leaking drops of precum. He wrapped his hand around the base, slowly stroking upwards, giving you a show. With a smirk he wrapped his hand around your thighs, pulling you down until your ass was flush with the edge of your desk. 

Baby, tonight is your night And I will do you right Just make a wish on your night Anything that you ask I will give you the love of your life, your life, your life

No warning was given before he thrust into you in one slow and measured thrust, filling you to the brink, and trusting your body to accept him as it has hundreds of times before. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your mouth opened wide to let out a sound you had never heard yourself make before, not that you could bring yourself to care. 

“I said,” he pistoned into you quickly, “be quiet. You don’t want those coworkers of yours getting too curious, do you?” You shook your head, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood in an attempt to muffle your noises. Bradley set a punishing pace knowing time was not on his side. His hips quickly meeting yours, the sound of slapping skin loud enough to echo throughout your office over the music. He pushed your scrub top up and over your breasts, pulling the cups of your bra down, and started to roughly caress your breasts with his left hand, his right holding tightly onto your hip to keep you from scooting across your desk from the power of his thrusts. The cold metal of his wedding ring made your nipples harden to tight peaks, the sensation running like a lightning bolt to your clit. “Fuck…Roo…please.” 

He didn’t need to ask what you needed, knowing your body better than you did after all of these years. He quickly put his body flush with yours, chest to chest, intertwining your hands together beside of your head, and slammed his lips onto yours once again, tongues battling for dominance and attempting to muffle the noises trying to escape. The new angle caused him to move even deeper inside of you, completely bottoming out. The feeling of being so full and the delicious friction his pelvis was giving you by rubbing against your clit sent you over the edge. 

I'll make love to you Like you want me to And I'll hold you tight Baby all through the night I'll make love to you When you want me to And I will not let go 'Til you tell me to

You arched your back and wrapped your legs tightly around his waist. The tight fluttering of your walls sending Bradley into his own orgasm, giving a growl you felt deep within his chest as he released himself inside of you. The sound of your intercom on your office phone went off, Rebecca’s voice floating through the room. “Your last appointment of the day just cancelled. See you tomorrow, Dr. Bradshaw!” 

Both of you were still breathing heavily, interlocked together to the point you couldn’t tell where you began, and he ended. “Thank God because I don’t think I can walk after that.” 

You both broke out into laughter, ready to go home. Bradley knew he had that record on the bookshelf in his office...round 2 is exactly what the doctor ordered.

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#love is in the air tgm #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun fanfiction #tgm #rooster x y/n #rooster imagine #rooster smut #female reader