#you abusive shits are being dramatic babies

[furiousgoldfish]

abusive parents @ their kids: stop being so sensitive! you just need to toughen up! you can't complain when you're being forced to work or beaten or punished for things that you can't control, or shunned or scapegoated or neglected or threatened or insulted or humiliated or blackmailed or rejected or betrayed or being told you're utterly unlovable and worst thing that's ever happened to humanity. Stop making such a drama out of everything!!!!!

abusive parents if their kid looks at them wrong or says 'no' once: you've ruined my entire life you demon, you monster, you are evil and you need to be punished, what you've done just made me lose my job sanity and last bit of happiness I had, you horrid creature you'll pay for this, this is normal and totally not overly sensitive dramatic behaviour, it is you who are wrong for daring to stand up to me and ruin everything good in my life this way!!!!

#double standards #hypocrites #rules for thee but not for me #you be tough i'll be a fucking sadistic revolting baby #child abuse #abusive parents #toxic parents #child neglect #overpunishing children for nothing #telling children to endure abuse #refusing to endure even the most minimal lashback from abuse #abused children are allowed to stand up for themselves #you abusive shits are being dramatic babies #toughen up and let children beat you up

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Permission

Pairing: Dark Rafe Cameron x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: If Rafe doesn’t want you to go somewhere, that’s what you should do. Except you don’t. 

WARNINGS: Toxic Relation; Domestic Violence/Abuse

Please, reblog and give me feedback.

--

“She’s not going.” 

You and Sarah groan at the same time, eyes flicking to the door where Rafe stands. 

“Stop snooping, Rafe! And get out of my room.” Sarah throws a pillow at her brother but he barely pays attention to her, his stare directed at you. 

You cross your arms, annoyed. 

“What?” 

His eyebrows raise at your snappy reaction and he puts his hands on the pockets, his hair messy. 

“I said that you are not going.” he repeats, voice layed with determination.

Giving Sarah a small apologetic smile, you leave her room, not bothering to look at Rafe as you head for his room. Plopping onto his bed, you reach for your phone but as soon as you touch it, Rafe snatches it. 

“Can you stop being so annoying?” you glare at your boyfriend, but he only smirks. 

You curse as Rafe takes the phone away from your reach. 

“Say you’re not going.” he insists. “Say it and I’ll give it back.” 

You throw your hands in the air.

“Why are you being so pushy about it? What’s wrong with going to a party?” 

He squints his eyes at you and you can already guess what’s coming.

“It’s not just some party, is it? It’s a fucking Pogue party, filled with them.” you can almost taste the disgust in Rafe’s words, his lips curling downwards. 

“...and I don’t want you near Sarah’s friends. They’re bad news. Especially that John B guy … and JJ.” 

“Well, that’s not your decision to make, babe.” You push yourself off the bed, but he grabs your arm, swirling you towards the bed. You squeal, falling down and you’re about to yell at him when his hand wraps around your neck. 

Your hand instantly claws at it, the increasing pressure making you feel uncomfortable. Rafe’s lips only curl into a half-smile, dodging your attempts to knee him. 

“Don’t make me repeat myself, yeah, baby?” his tone darkens as he looms over you “You’re not going to that stupid party. Understood?” 

You feel the tears burning in your eyes as you frantically nod, a shaken breath escaping your lips when Rafe releases your throat. 

Touching the sensitive skin, you look up at Rafe, an unbothered expression glued to his face as he looks at you. He throws your phone to the bed, winking at you.

“See? It wasn’t that hard, was it?”

"Oh shit.” 

You follow Pope’s eyes and turn around. Your body freezes on the spot, eyes rounding up as you catch the sight of Rafe exiting his truck, his head moving as he looks around, a pissed off look plastered on his face. 

You’re screwed. 

“Isn’t that your boy, Rafe? What the hell is he doing here?” Pope asks and you dive, hiding behind his figure. Rafe was starting to create a ruckus shouting your name, Topper and Kelce with him.

Their presence makes you nervous and you decide it’s time to skip the party before anything more dramatic happens. 

“You know what, I think I’m just gonna head home and-” you yelp as your arm is roughly pulled.

You barely have time to say anything before you’re being dragged away and you wouldn’t even have to look to know that it’s Rafe. 

“Rafe, stop! You’re hurting me!” your pleas don’t stop Rafe, all the bystanders shocked yet no one daring to intervene, moving away from you. 

You trip on your own feet and end up colliding against Rafe’s body. You whine, pleading with him to slow down but your boyfriend seems to have gone mad. 

He pushes you inside his truck without a word and as he walks to the drivers side, you look through the window, catching Sarah and JJ heading your way. You shake your head at them, they’re too far and you doubt that Rafe would enjoy them interfering. 

The truck starts and soon you’re on the road, small sniffles from you filling the space. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” 

Rafe’s fingers tighten around the wheel, turning white. 

“I told you not to go to the party, didn’t I?” he starts “If you fucking listened to me, then this wouldn’t have happened. You only have yourself to blame.” 

You bury your nails in your bare thigh, despair starting to hit you. Without a second thought, you grab the handle, forgetting about the moving car. 

It doesn’t work, Rafe quickly grabbing your hair, aggressively tugging you back inside. Both of you fight and you scratch his hand, crying out. 

“Fucking hell, Y/N.” 

The car stops, and you barely have time to process what was going on before your cheek implodes with pain, your face turned to the side with the impact. The bruising grip hurting your scalp as he uses it to recline your face. 

He closes in, his features molding a scowl. 

“I don’t think you fucking understand. I say, you obey. As simple as that.” he tugs on your hair, a reminder of his power over you and a tear slips from your eye. 

“And I swear to god that if you push it one more time, baby, I’m gonna fucking destroy this pretty face of yours.”

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #dark!obx #dark obx #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron x reader #tw: dark content #tw: toxic relationships #rafe cameron x reader #tw: manipulation #dark!fic #dark fic #tw: yandere #yandere x reader #tw: stalking #obx imagine #obx x reader #tw: abuse

[sad-drake-lyrics]

what my 65yo father has to say about antis:

let me preface this by saying, i literally wish i had what just happened on video to go viral on TikTok. i was shook by this conversation down to my bones; and if you could see my father - a loud old Italian man with dramatic hand gestures - say what he had to say, i think this shit would blow up. but as i was obviously not filming him while we were eating, i will have to relay to you the story with my words.

so i'm sitting eating dinner at the coffee table with my father while watching TV, as Americans often do instead of eating at the dinner table, and since the news was on he started telling me this story that had been recently mentioned on TV once again from maybe ten years ago (it was in 2014, you can read about it here) where these two 12-year-old girls killed one of their friends as a sacrifice to the Slender Man. yeah, real thing. fucked up.

and so my father told me about how they interviewed one of the killer's mothers, and when questioned about where her daughter's motive could've come from, she said something along the lines of: you know, when i was a kid, i was into Stephen King and horror - and so when my kid was into that kind of stuff, i didn’t think it was a big deal.

so, of course, my response was "yeah, being into that stuff isn’t a big deal at all - it's normal - but being a sociopath and murdering someone is not normal; it's fucked up. but there's nothing wrong with being into horror stories - they're just stories meant to entertain - it doesn't make you a murderer to enjoy Halloween - but it would if you put on a Michael Myers mask and went out and stabbed people." and, of course, like any sane person, my father agreed with me.

then, continuing this line of conversation, i started talking about the concept of how "fiction isn’t reality," and how a frightening amount of people don't understand that; and i literally started telling him about antis - people on the internet who attack and harass others over "problematic" or "inappropriate" fictional interests.

i used well-known pop culture examples like: if you're into Game of Thrones and like Jaime and Cersei together or wanted Jon and Daenerys to end up together (i didn't think he would process the term "shipping," but clearly by the end of this conversation i think i was wrong), that people (antis) will say things like "you should die," and that you "support inc*st in real life," and that "you're disgusting."

i also used the examples of "toxic relationships" in pop culture, like the Joker and Harley Quinn, or Kylo Ren and Rey, and how if you’re into those kinds of fictional relationships that people (antis) will say that you "support toxic relationships," and that you are "glorifying abuse," and that it all "must be what you really want and believe is right or good."

and my fucking 65-year-old father literally goes: "I don’t understand. It’s a TV show. Don't they know it’s fake?"

queue my jaw dropping to the fucking ground because i'm like. YES. THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT PRO-SHIPPERS ARE TRYING TO SAY AND THESE PEOPLE DON'T GET IT.

he was flabbergasted, my pals. the shock in his eyes was incredible to behold.

and, oh boy, that isn't even the best part, guys.

my father then says, "Don’t tell me it’s like that with anime too?"

and i said, "it's worse with anime."

and i fucking swear to you - no joke, on my life and baby Jesus' cradle - again my 65-year-old father looks at me and says, “It’s a fucken cartoon."

... ... ...

... i can't ...

i can't end this post better than that.

#anti anti #anti harassment #proship #proshipper #proshipping #pro ship #pro fiction #pro shipper #pro shipping #profic #comship #proship safe #comship safe #proship positivity #anti censorship #ship discourse #fiction is not reality #fiction is fiction #ship and let ship

[jjwantsme]

It’s Christmas, Charlie Brown!

j.m

pairing: jj maybank x girlfriend!reader

summary: after years of neglection, christmas was never an excitement in JJ’s life- that is, until he met y/n

warning: kind of grumpy boyfriend x sunshine girlfriend trope, fluff, mentions of abusive family, cussing, references to smut, let me know if there’s anything missing!

authors note: i couldn’t sleep at 6am and came up with this. Time for a holiday special!!! Sorry im over a week late 😭😭

masterlist

JJ groaned a bit as he felt his shoulder being shaken, still half asleep as he listened to his girlfriend’s bubbly voice.

“JJ, wake up, wake up, it’s christmas!” Y/n cheered, excitement radiating off her flushed face.

“baby, baby,” JJ rasped, “it’s 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 christmas. Don’t cream your pants over it.”

“‘Just Christmas’?!” She gasped dramatically, pretending to be overly offended- which, wasn’t too far from the truth. “now, come on, get up so we can make breakfast!”

JJ couldn’t really relate to her excitement.

Unlike his loving girlfriend, he grew up in a broken home.

Growing up with an abusive father, and an absentee mother, JJ never really got to have Christmas. His father never held them by the fire or watched movies with him; he received a present once, but it was taken shortly after on account of bad behavior.

So, because of him never getting to experience all of the christmas magic, it was never a big deal to him. In his book, it was just any old day.

And, normally, that would be a deal breaker for y/n. However, seeing as JJ is perfect for her in every other aspect, she let it slide this time.

She’d just have to make-up for all of the christmas he’s missed.

“Breakfast?” JJ sat up and groaned, “I thought your parents would be doing that!”

“Well, yeah…but, I asked if we could do it,” y/n grinned, clearly not understanding his exhaustion, “It’s part of the fun!”

She began putting bottoms over her bare legs, still half-naked from when JJ undressed her the night before.

JJ couldn’t help but let out a small smile at her excitement, looking over all the hickeys on her stomach.

Boy, was he in for a long holiday.

“Oh, JJ! This is for you,” Mrs. y/l/n chirped as she handed JJ a gift, “from me and y/n’s father!”

Y/n had definitely received her positive attitude from her mother.

“Oh, shit, y-you guys really didn’t have to get me anything,” JJ chuckled and shook his head, rubbing his neck as he grabbed the present.

“Of course we did!”

JJ smiled wide as he opened the gift, feeling like a little kid again as y/n sat right next to him.

He wasn’t used to any parents loving him the way y/n’s did, it was definitely still something to get used to.

Her parents absolutely adored him, always inviting him over for meals and letting him spend the night

When they first met, JJ thought for sure they’d despise him, the same way most parents do. He thought they’d say he’s a bad influence on their daughter, and that he’s no good just like his dad.

But, they never said that. They took him in with open arms.

JJ opened the gift slowly, his smile growing when he opened the box to reveal a ring.

A ring with the letter “J” imprinted onto it.

“Do you like it?” Y/n smiled up at him with her innocent voice.

“I love it!” He was so happy, he almost laughed, “Thank you guys, so much!”

He gave her parents quick hugs.

“Now open mine, open mine!” Y/n couldn’t contain her excitement, and anticipation, as she handed him the gift she picked out.

He opened hers much more quickly, and he swore his cheeks were going to break from smiling too hard when he saw it. A necklace with her first initial on it.

“Do you like it? Look, I got us matching ones!” She pulled hers out of her hoodie pocket, (the same hoodie she stole from JJ), and showed it to him.

It had a J on it, and he blushed so hard that he saw stars. He wouldn’t be surprised if there were hearts in his eyes.

“Oh my god, baby,” JJ kissed her head, and then her cheek, and then her lips. “I absolutely adore it.”

Y/n couldn’t help the giddy tears that welled up in her eyes as she watched him put it on with so much pride.

“I’ll never take it off!”

“Who’s idea was it to invite them over? Like, seriously, who let John B in?” Kiara jokingly asked as she watched him and pope nearly break y/n’s family vase.

“Ha-ha, very funny, kie.” Pope sarcastically replied, taking his seat at the dinning table.

After everyone’s parents approval, y/n had invited all of the pogues over for christmas dinner at her place. Her mother made a five-course-meal for them, and let them have sparkling water to drink.

Y/n was pretty close with the pogues, especially sarah, as she grew up a kook. Well, nobody really called her a kook. She had a foot in both worlds; her parents were filthy rich, but she never acted snobby or better than anyone. She didn’t fit in with the other kooks, which is why she was more of a lone-wolf- that is, until she met the pogues.

“Oh, it’s fine!” Y/n’s mom insisted as she took her seat, “We can afford a new one, no worries!”

“Thank you, Mrs. y/l/n, this all looks amazing,” Pope nervously changed the conversation topic as he examined the meal, already having his heart set on the glazed ham.

“Hey, princess,” JJ spoke quietly to y/n as everyone else engaged in their own conversation, “can i talk to you in the other room for a moment?”

Y/n bit her lip, which was an anxiety-motivated habit, before nodding.

“We’ll be right back!” JJ smiled at everyone, taking his girl’s hand and leading her to the living room.

“What is it?” Y/n asked once they were alone, watching as JJ took a present from under the tree.

“Just wanted to give you your present…” he trailed off, handing a wrapped, book-shaped item to her.

“Awh, baby,” she pouted as she took it from him, “you know you didn’t have to get me anything!”

“What, you really thought i wouldn’t get you a present? On your favorite holiday?” He raised his eyebrows, “Jeez, i’m not that poor.”

Y/n unwrapped the gift, letting out a small gasp when she saw what it was.

A scrapbook of their relationship thus far, with polaroids of them from the very beginning.

JJ grew nervous when he saw how silent she was, her usually being his little chatterbox.

Most people probably found it annoying how talkative she was, but he thought it was just the most precious thing.

“Do you not like it? I’m sorry if it’s not…i don’t know, fancy enough? I was on a budget, i thought it was cute, but i completely understand if you don’t like it, it is kind of cor-“

Y/n cut him off by kissing him, passionately, as she rested a hand on his shoulder.

She pulled away after almost a minute, looking him in the eyes.

“Is that your way of telling me you would’ve liked a more sexual gift? Cause, y’know i have no problem getting you a-“

“JJ!” She spoke sharply as she cut him off, trying not to laugh, “I love it, you dumbass!”

“Really?” JJ’s face went from a smirk to a soft smile as she spoke.

“Of course, I do! I’ve never gotten anything this thoughtful. Thank you so much. I’ll read every single page.” She grinned and hugged him tight, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He smiled wide and hugged her back, just as tight.

He was so nervous about the gift, only having a few dollars to spend.

But, her reaction made him proud of himself, and happier than words can explain.

“So…about that sex toy-“

“JJ!”

“I really can’t believe you’ve never seen this before,” Y/n and JJ cuddled on her bed, watching a charlie brown christmas special. “It’s a classic!”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” He shrugged in reply.

Y/n giggled at his remark, making him smile.

“Y/n, I actually, uh, I wanted to…talk to you about something.” JJ rubbed the back of his neck, making her pause the movie.

“What is it, baby?”

“I just…” he sighed, “I wanted to say thank you.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, “Thank you? For what?”

“I don’t know, I guess just…being with me. Y’know, letting me be yours. I know we’ve only been dating 10 months, but…you really are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I really can’t thank you, or your family, enough for everything you’ve done.” JJ shook his head and sniffled, “I don’t deserve it.”

“Awh, my love,” y/n pouted and sat up to cup his cheeks, “of course you deserve it. You deserve more, actually. I love you so much, and I just know there’s many more christmas’ like this to come.”

He rested his forehead against hers and whispered, “I love you more, beautiful.”

Y/n finished their conversation with a kiss, a kiss that didn’t end until JJ moved his hands up her shirt and began kissing her neck.

“Gonna show you how much I love you,” He mumbled against her neck as he nibbled on it.

Let’s just say; what they did that night, definitely would’ve gotten them on the naughty list.

#jjwantsme #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank #jj mayback x reader #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank x reader smut #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj obx #jj x you #jj x reader #jj x y/n #jj maybank x kook!reader #jj maybank x pogue!reader #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic

[a-random-weeb]

Bsd men when their S/O is on their period

I'm currently making my monthly blood sacrifice, so why not make headcannons? My emotional stability on my period be like: 📉

I get really angry, pissed at everything, clingy, and sad (mostly angry) while on my period, as well as really bad cramps, and the mood swings are horrible, so that's what I'm writing for.

Also, sorry I haven't been writing, remember how I said I was sick? Yeah well I'm so sick I can barely eat, I'm going to school but I constantly feel like I'm gonna throw up, I feel like shit, and that's why I'm posting as much. I've been trying to post once a day though

Characters: Akutagawa, Chuuya, Dazai

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Akutagawa:

•he probably doesn't even know what a period is

•When you begin to get mood swings, he's so confused

•When you explain what a period is, he thinks you're dying

•He offers to call an ambulance, and is so confused when you say it's normal

•you have to bleed your guts out every month and there's nothing you can do about it?

•I mean- he knows what a period is from gin, he's not completely ignorant

•Gin probably never talked about it much though

•she was probably one of those girls who was really embarrassed to be on her period, and still kinda is.

•When you try to struggle explain it's physically impossible, he's even more confused

•he thinks periods are so complicated

•He still secretly thinks you're gonna bleed to death, and is really worried 💀

•He also thinks it's kind of gross😭

"Why are you in so much pain?! You're bleeding?! What the hell?! Wdym, you're dying, do I have to call an ambulance?! .... What do you mean by 'period'? Oh wait, Gina told me about them..."

─── ⋆⋅ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ⋅⋆ ──𓂃········╮-`♡´--`♡´-___________༄-

Chuuya:

•Unlike Akutagawa, he's a little more educated

•He doesn't know EVERYTHING, but he knows a bit

•He definitely knows about the mood swings and cramps from the girls in the Mafia (Gin, Higuchi, Kyouka, Kyoyo ←(idk how to spell her name), ect.)

•He's too afraid to ask questions, he has to keep his pride!

•you both probably got in a big fight because of how angry you get and his anger issues, resulting in you crying and clinging to his side.

•He kind of likes it when you're on your period, even though it's not the end of the world, he treats it like it is

•what? Its an excuse to take care of you. Plus he loves how clingy you are

•He buys you pads or tampons while in your period, aswell as those cute animal heating packs

•He also buys you chocolate.

•He cuddles you while you're having cramps, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you hold the heating pack to your stomach

•other than the mood swings and cramps, it's pretty normal

•I mean, it doesn't change your whole day-to-day schedule (depending on how bad your cramps are)

"You're on your period? Are you good on pads and whatever? Alright, we can buy more? You want chocolate too? Jeez lady... Oh nononononononono, don't cry, we can get chocolate!"

˖๑‧˚꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦˚‧๑˖˖๑‧˚꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷

Dazai:

•He feels bad for all the cramps you have

•That doesn't stop him from teasing you though

•He's an asshole about it at first

•Until he learns his lesson

•He's scared of your period after you snap at him

•Though, he finds it adorable when you cuddle up to him, all apologetic after snapping at him

•if he teases you about it... well... He's probably too scared to 💀

•He buys you pads, heating packs, and chocolate with Kunikidas black card

•His excuse is "My baby is on her period, you want her to bleed her guts out in pain?" He guilts Kunikida into letting him use it (manipulative bitch- )

"Oh? My belladonna is on her period is she? Aren't you being a little dramatic about it- I TAKE IT BACK I TAKE IT BACK PLEASE DONT HURT ME!" (he's not serious btw, you're not abusing him 😭)

𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖*.+𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖*.+𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖*.+𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖*.+𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖*.

#bsd x you #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd fluff #chuuya nakahara #bsd dazai #chuuya x reader #dazai osamu #bsd chuuya #dazai x reader #akutagawa ryuunosuke #bsd dazai osamu #osamu dazai x reader #osamu x reader #Osamu Dazai #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa bsd #Skk #BSD skk #Period #BSD x reader #bsd x reader fluff #bungou stray dogs x reader

[joequinnisgod]

The pattern of his skin (Requested)

Pairing: Joseph Quinn x f!reader

Request: okay but a one shot / blurb / imagine of reader giving joe a hickey... how does he feel, does he have an event to go to, does he cover it... I neeeeeed this

Warnings: rpf, a little smut, do love bites need a warning..?

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: Thanks for the request and patience, hope you’ll like it :)

"Fuck, baby..you're killing me." His low and raspy voice sounded next to your ear, his tone dripping in desperation. He didn't even try to conceal how much he needed this. How much he needed you.

He just came home after being away for a month. As soon as you heard the front door open, you rushed into his arms, lips finding each other immediately before even getting a word out. At first he didn't catch onto your intentions but when he felt your tongue poking at his lips, he knew what was about to go down. His hand let go of the suitcase's handle, letting it fall on the floor with a sharp sound of the aluminium hitting the floor. You felt his hands wrapping around the back of your thighs, encouraging you to jump. He kicked his shoes off and went to the living room, suddenly too impatient to go all the way to the bedroom. You broke the kiss due to the lack of oxygen but pressed quick kisses on his lips repeatedly between taking small breaths as he sat down with you in his lap. Your lips travelled down from his jaw to the base of his neck before they settled on his sweet spot, switching between pressing gentle open mouthed kisses there and sucking on it softly.

Your hands stroked his stomach up and down slowly, each time getting a bit closer to his hardening length. Your lips were still attached to his skin, occasionally stopping for a moment. The sound of his sweet moans and sighs, along with your lips working on his skin filled the living room. It absolutely drove him wild, finally having you so close but he still felt like you were miles apart. He knew that feeling won't go away until he's balls deep inside you and he feels you fall apart in his arms. You lifted your head from the crook of his neck, eyeing with the reddening mark in the place of where your lips just had been.

"You done?" He examined the face he hadn't seen in a month in person. You nodded eagerly, ready to feel his warm skin on yours again. His hands found the hem your T-shirt and pulled it over your hand quickly, tossing it on the floor, revealing your naked chest. He laid you down on the couch with your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him close to you. He started pressing kisses all over your collarbones and chest when you grabbed the neck of his shirt and pulled him up.

"Please, Joe, I need you..just...oh.." You gasped when he rocked the forming bulge in his pants against your core. His trembling hands pulled your sweatpants down, getting them out of the way. He straightened his posture, standing on his knees and pulled his hoodie over his head before unbuckling his belt and standing up to slide his jeans off. He nestled back between your legs, lips finding yours while his hands caressed your sides, slowly moving down to your panties. His long fingers found the waistline of it and pulled it before letting it go, the fabric snapping against your skin loudly. You gasped at the unexpected feeling before you both started giggling, mouth to mouth still.

He quickly got the last piece of clothing off you before freeing himself from his boxers as well. He was ready to give his all to you after a month spent apart, but the realisation hit him hard. His face dropped as he buried his head in the crook of your neck.

"Shit..condom's upstairs." A long and loud sigh left his mouth. "We gotta start keeping them all around the house."

"That's a bit dramatic." You chuckled.

"Says the one who threw herself at me as soon as she saw me." He rose from the couch with you in his lap, walking to the bedroom.

Your lips traced the hot skin at his neck, abusing that – now reddening – spot again. His fingers dug deeper into your thighs at the feeling of your lips against his skin.

"The GQ event's tomorrow night." He mumbled more to remind himself as he was under the influence of your lips, knowing his skin is well-visibly red.

"Hmm?" You lifted your head from his neck, your lips detaching from his skin with a loud pop. He couldn't even remember what he said for a second; his mind began to grow cloudy with lust as he admired your red, puffy lips that he had been missing for a month so dearly.

"The GQ Men of the Year..tomorrow."

"I know. So?" You stated with a confused expression on your face, not understanding what it had to do with the situation.

This time he didn't bother to reply, too busy thinking about being buried deep inside you. He gently threw you on the bed, the mattress bouncing softly at his action. Joseph didn't waste time, he was above you in no second, attaching your lips again. The contrast between his slightly harsh and dry fingertips and your soft side and thigh only made the experience more intimate as you realised, he's really there with you finally. You reached for his hand that rested on your thigh and intertwined your fingers together, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb.

"Fuck..I missed you...so much." He managed to get it out between kisses.

"I missed you, too, baby."

You did mean it. Not just because of the lonely nights when a phone call with him just simply wasn't enough, but also because of those days when you felt a tad droopy and you craved his closeness and presence. Finally you had him to yourself again.

He unlaced your fingers and reached for the nightstand. You supported yourself with your elbows, taking in the sight of him tearing the little packaging with his teeth and giving his length a few strokes to get himself ready before rolling down the latex.

"You ready, baby?" He smirked, reaching for your ankles to place them on his shoulders but you pulled your legs away to stop him. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"As much as I love having my legs on your shoulders, I don't want any of that now. Just come here, baby. Make love to me."

He did as you asked without a word, a soft smile spreading across his face. He settled between your legs and cupped your cheek as he stroked it with his thumb. He dipped his head down to kiss you and teased your clit with the head of his shaft. You moved your hips impatiently and he barely slipped into you for a quick second, making you both gasp and moan. A few moments later he started to push himself into you slowly and stopped when he was deep between your walls. A moan erupted from your throat at the sensation.

"God..how much I missed this." He exhaled as he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against yours. His hips started rocking. It wasn't fast or greedy; instead, it was slow and sensual. His deep, passionate thrusts knocked the air out of your lungs, making it feel like the world's oxygen wouldn't be enough. "You're coming with me the next time I gotta leave for a while." He whispered as he chocked on his desperate moans.

"Definitely."

The following evening Joseph was standing in front of the mirror with a towel hanging low around his waist, water droplets rolling down his skin.

"You okay?" You stood in the doorway as you noticed him eyeing his reflection with a shy, proud smile on his face.

"Come here." He beckoned to you. You walked over to him and he turned fully around, now facing you. Your eyes widened at the sight of the crimson red little spot in the crook of his neck. "See what you did, baby?"

"Shit..I'm sorry." A laugh escaped your lips as you lifted your gaze to meet his.

"No, you're not." He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a tight hug while pressing quick pecks on your neck, making you squirm as his beard was tickling you.

"I'll put makeup on it, come on." You laughed.

"Don't..I don't need it." His voice was muffled as he still had his lips pressed up against your neck.

"You gonna look like those horny teenagers."

"I feel like one for sure..but you're coming with me so they'll know who to blame."

Thank you for reading it, hope you enjoyed it! Requests are open (I’m slow as shit tho). Take care, have a beautiful day / night <3

#joseph quinn #joe quinn #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn imagine #joseph x reader #joseph quinn fanfiction #tom grant smut #jq

[renthony]

Some recs for adult animation I enjoy:

People always seem to think I only watch kids' shows, so here's a list of animated television shows I adore, that were all made with adults in mind:

King of the Hill - Genuinely didn't think I'd like it, but I actually really love it? I expected something that was basically just The Simpsons or Family Guy, but got a surprising amount of emotional depth from the main cast. Bobby Hill is my son boy.

Futurama - I am legally obligated to list Futurama. I have watched the entire series so many fucking times. I'm going to watch the reboot and we all know it.

Disenchantment - It's more than just "Futurama medieval fantasy" but tonally, they are pretty similar. I enjoy it immensely. Bean is a #bicon, and that's fucking canon <3

Samurai Jack - The original show aired as a kids' show, but the revival apparently put it into the adult category. I haven't gotten that far yet, but holy shit, it's so good so far. Even the "kids' show" part is pretty mature, imho.

Bob's Burgers - I fucking love Bob's Burgers. I need to catch up on the more recent seasons. A sitcom that DOESN'T have parents who clearly hate each other? Whaaaat?

Harley Quinn - I'm not caught up, and there are aspects I have critiques of, but overall, it's been fun as fuck. I LOVE this interpretation of Ivy so fucking much.

Metalocalypse - My dad's a metal musician, so this was on in my house all the time when I was a teenager. I haven't watched it in *years* but I still reference the early seasons in conversation constantly. The Duncan Hills will wake you, motherfuckers.

Big Mouth/Human Resources - They are better than you think they are, and the "ugly style" reminds me of classic Klasky-Csupo. Compare it to Rugrats and tell me it doesn't have similar caricature styles. Story-wise, it nails the exact blend of panicked awkwardness I felt as a disaster tween, it has SO MANY queer characters. They dramatically improved on their more problematic aspects after getting called on it in seasons 1 and 2. And Human Resources made me sob like a little baby in the episode with Kieth from Grief.

BoJack Horseman - Starts off as a goofy gross-out humor sitcom but very quickly becomes a serious drama. Incredibly heavy and dark, but holy shit the catharsis. Delves into a lot of musings about morality, celebrity culture and Hollywood, generational trauma, and the perpetuation of cycles.

Tuca & Bertie - Goofy slice-of-life about characters navigating their 30s. Lots of musings about family, trauma, sexual abuse, queer dating in your 30s, friendship, and trying to survive it all. I relate so fucking much to the main cast.

Magical Girl Friendship Squad - It's a magical girl cartoon about milennials. Their magical girl weapons are birth control pills and a bong. It's fucking amazing. I'm really sad nobody else seems to have heard of it. :(

Little Demon - Sitcom about the Devil's daughter. Unsure if it's going to get a season 2, since it's about to get taken completely off of Hulu. Still worth watching if you can, because it's so fucking good. Centers on a teenage girl navigating Being A Teenage Girl while also dealing with her dad being the Devil and her mom being a traumatized mess who's figuring her own shit out.

Q-Force - The advertising did this show so fucking dirty. It was genuinely fucking funny, and it was clearly made with love. This isn't straight people making fun of us, this is queer people making queer comedy. Watch it.

Arcane - Arcane's politics are all over the place and I am in my "Silco Was Right" corner, which is right next to the "Magneto Was Right" clubhouse. But goddamn, the animation is gorgeous and the story is intense.

The Legend of Vox Machina - I haven't watched Critical Role, so I can say with confidence that this show is fucking amazing even if you have zero interest in the original gameplay streams. Fantasy animation for grownups, where they can show blood and titties, my beloved. <3

#original post

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 9 (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

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

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

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

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

Chapter Word Count: 22.1k+

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

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

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

-Horace

-🌼🌼🌼-

October 30, 2022

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

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

All pink and white and golden rays of sunshine.

Then, it was gone. 

No. Not again.

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

All dark and dirty and ear-piercing screams. 

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

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

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

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

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

You studied her quizzically – why was she–?

“Wake up!”

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

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

Life was safe again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the back booth was open! 

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck that came out of nowhere. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, she was sunshine for you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Very rarely had she been extremely judgemental. 

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

“Sis, what’s–?”

“I’m pregnant.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Talk, Elsie. Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s oka–.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Elsie spoke before you could. “What changed?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, you took your first sip of orange juice. 

Goddamn.

Fuck! Ew. Baby does not like orange juice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure thing! Back in a flash!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not hungry?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Does Jake know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dangerous territory.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jesus, Elsie! I–.”

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

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

“Liiiiike . . .?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m going to puke on you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not possib–.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

Okay, these hormones can fuck right off. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her chest was heaving. 

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why in the hell? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait!”

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

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

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

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

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

Seriously? He was stopping your pickle eating for this?

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, you did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stories? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So fucking cruel, babe. . .”

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

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

Had you ever been carrying it? 

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

- 🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- 🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

Then he was all you saw.

Jake.

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

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

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

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

Seriously, fuck these hormones.

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

And, of course, he had. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your tummy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

God. . . what is he about to sa–?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you think I’m brok–?”

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

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

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

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

“Expensive?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And this type is. . .?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do I schedule the appointment?”

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

And you continued to wait. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Family?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And if he asks what it’s for?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You knew that. 

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And, once he’d done that, it was no longer in your control to keep the tears at bay. You tried to fight them back, but it was to no avail. 

So, there you were, face becoming drenched in tears as you couldn’t stop sputtering little sobs. 

In your peripheral, you saw Josh looking at you as he came to one last light before the highway, face surely painted with distress. “Y/n?” He checked, careful and concerned. “I’m sorry if I said some–.”

And what came out of your mouth next was not at all expected. But, it blurted through your lips with zero fucking warning. You did not know which part of your brain had decided to communicate with your mouth to say it.

“I’m pregnant,” you sobbed.

The car lurched to a stop, cars honking furiously behind you at Josh’s abrupt action. Your stomach, already thick with nerves, couldn’t handle it. You quickly slapped an open palm over your mouth to conceal any projectile vomiting. Thankfully none came, but you had to clench your eyes shut once again as Josh made a wide, sloppy U-turn off of the street that was leading to the highway. 

And when he’d finally come to a stop again, you opened your eyes to see he’d pulled the car over into the nearest McDonald’s.

Focusing too hard on trying not to vomit helped you to stop the outrageous weeping for a few minutes. You finally peeled the hand from your mouth as you took several deep breaths, in and out, to calm yourself and your stomach. 

Before you even knew what was happening, Josh was getting out, running to the door of the establishment. You watched in the mirror to your right as he simultaneously got his wallet out of his back pocket. 

Choosing not to worry about it, you shut your eyes once more to ease your tummy. But it did not help and you felt the puke coming in just enough time to unlock your door, open it, and puke all over a piece of the yellow line that boxed the car into its space.

You groaned as you leaned back up into the car and into your seat, letting your hair fall from the impromptu ponytail that you were holding at the back of your neck. Popping open the glovebox, you grabbed a few napkins to wipe your face (these days, between the incessant crying and vomiting, you were fucking constantly thanking God for the years-accumulated collection).

And then the driver’s side door was opening once more, this time Josh’s khakis making the first appearance as he climbed back in. He had two cups, one balanced between his bicep, clad in a white, long-sleeved tee and his chest and one in his hand. He quickly placed both in the center cup holders and popped a straw in each. 

Your brows lifted, wondering. “What did you–?” 

“Sprite,” he pointed to the one at the front. “And water,” the one in the second holder. 

“How did you–?”

“There’s a part of my brain permanently cemented with what it was like to watch my mom be pregnant with Sammy,” he explained, eyes soft with a smile gracing his handsome features. “I was too young to remember watching her pregnancy with Ron, but Sammy. . . he’s always been tough–even in the fuckin’ womb.”

You gave a small giggle, stomach spinning when your hand went to grab the Sprite. The carbonation sounded perfect, and Sprite had been a go-to in a few cases of your recent nausea. 

The cool drink had been just what you’d needed, sighing as soon as you brought the straw away from your lips with the first sip. You kept it clutched in your hands as a lifeline when you looked at Josh next, eyes wet. “Thank you, Joshy,” you croaked, tone exuding gratefulness. 

“Yeah, always,” he affirmed, his eyebrows dipped in. The next few minutes were spent in silence, your thoughts finally quieted a little with the initial confession to him. You took a few quiet sips of your drink, the sound of you swallowing the loudest sound in the small car.

Knowing he most likely wasn’t wanting to pressure you to talk, you took the initiative. “I–I’m sorry for not– I’m–,” you choked, shaking your head. The tears were beginning to gather once fucking more. Yet, even with eyes wet and throat tight, you persevered. You had to get the rest of it said before you continued to the appointment–you were going to be late if you didn’t get going soon. And you weren’t about to tell him the rest afterwards. “I have to tell you the rest.”

His jaw clenched in preparation for it as he nodded, his body turning to better face you for what was left. “Lay it on me.”

You gulped, mimicking his movement so you could see him better. Your throat was so tight it nearly suffocated you with nerves. “The–the father,” you started, looking into the eyes that looked so eerily similar to his brother’s. Very much like the ones you hoped your baby would wind up having–yet, not entirely the same. “Do you want to know?”

Of course you’ll want to, you thought at your ridiculous question. And I’m going to tell you anyway, but I’m stalling like a pussy.

His lips quirked, but only the slightest, tiniest bit. “Only if you want to tell me.”

I have to.

“I–I do,” you said, your eyes darting down to your hands which wrung at your waist, itching to touch your tummy. So, you did, settling them on the small bump. And instantly, you felt better. You were beginning to find it slightly crazy what one simple touch could do. 

Choosing to watch your hands lace at your tummy instead of him, you took the last jump with two words. “It’s Jake.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: i promise you won't be waiting a month for Josh's reaction ;) see you very, very soon <3

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

Fill this form out if you'd like to join my taglist! <3 (i am slowly but surely adding these users to the taglist! :) life is busy as hell and i haven't been updating my doc w the tags like i should :/)

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

Taglist: @joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssoloud, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend, @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon , @gvfmarge, @creadliz98, @mackalah, @lek-gvf, @carlyfleet, @profitofthedune, @mefiorini, @welllauragvf, @highway-tuna, @dont-go-home-without-me, @sarah-gvf01, @polemicandcontent, @ageofbajabule

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfic #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fanfic #jake fic #jake kiszka #covet #my fics

[vrisrezis]

omgomgomg would you do satoru, suguru, and shoko taking care of a child. (maybe a random child that they found bc they tend to pick up random children or a bio kid) like have you seen those pov tiktoks like "pov: you got pregnant in collage and now your baby's being raised by college students" or somthing. like i can imagine satosugu teaching (if its a boy) the kid to be a gentlemen and like open the door for auntie shoko! or somthing like that. and if the kid was girl, like keeping her away from the boys "cuz thats what dads do" or smth like that.

INGOOGN TO CRY RN

Tw for child abuse; erm this is a college au but curses and jujutsu sorcerers still exist

- Satoru is the one to find you. At this point in his life, he knows he shouldn’t keep adopting more children. Especially when he’s a teenager. He already has megumi, suguru recently found mimiko and nanako, but the male couldn’t resist. You were littered in bruises and cuts when he found you. You looked no more than three years old. There’s no way he in good conscious could leave you there and not take you for himself. So he crouched down to meet your level, a grin etched his features despite the worry he felt for you. As if he wanted to reassure you.

- he asks you about your parents, and you give him a honest shrug. So he takes you in for now.

- “Satoru…” suguru trails off, seeing yet another child in his arms. However, suguru doesn’t dwell on it, seeing the state you’re in. “Oh jeez…” he trails off, his motherly instincts kicking in as he’s quick to grab shoko to help heal you up.

- even shoko, would show great worry towards you.

- and from then on, you were stuck to those three like glue. Nothing would separate you four. They were stuck with you, you were stuck with them.

- satoru would eventually figure out that your parents were dangerous curse users that seemed to have put you in that weak state, so him and suguru personally went out to see them :)

Now, the parental experience:

- naturally, satoru and suguru have a very different way of raising a child. Suguru raises you to be a upstanding citizen while satoru raises you to be a menace to society. As a result, you will be a very confused little lad for a long time.

- satoru is a clingy dad, spending as much time with you as possible. However, satoru keeps you away from curses energy/curses talk all together. He wants you to experience being a child, since he never really got to.

- satoru introduces you to sweets really quickly (duh), and is a terrible influence cause he is constantly giving you junk food and therefor teaching you bad eating habits

- he also just spoils the hell out of you, so when it comes to you he can never say no to you, so you need to be taught by the others you won’t always get what you want

- satoru teaches you how to be confident, if you’re ever unsure about something he builds you up! But honestly with how much he does and with how over the top he is about it, you’ll probably end up with an ego like his

- satoru also doesn’t see a reason for you to respect your elders and this includes himself, suguru, and shoko. Respect them because they’re good to you, not because they’re authority figures or older than you.

- dresses you up :} you are not going out looking like shit, ever! He is such a diva and therefor you will be too. It’s just the order of things.

- suguru is a loving father as well, but not nearly as clingy as suguru. He lets you have your space, as he knows he needs his every once in awhile.

- suguru had a habit of spoiling you, but he does know he needs to discipline you (unlike satoru) if you do something bad. He’s the stricter of the two but even then he is not very strict.

- suguru tries to teach you good eating habits, good etiquette, and overall being a polite person that does things for others.

- while suguru believes confidence is a good thing for you to have, and he certainly uplifts you when you feel insecure, satoru is way more dramatic about it.

- sugurus “of course your big and strong, cute too.” vs satorus “you’re a god compared to them, don’t let those dirty rags get to you.”

- suguru ofc wants you to respect your elders too so he’s actually very strict about this. He will not budge on it, satoru shut up.

- suguru helps you with hygiene a lot since you’re still very little and your old family didn’t really teach you. He helps with ur hair and brushing ur teeth and showering heehee

- also can I say they are both so supportive of uuu

- like , your four years old , you are a little boy , you want to cosplay peach ? Zelda ? No problem they’re both so supportive of it

- no makeup tho ur too young

- born a girl ? Wanna wear boyish clothes? Totally fine they also don’t care

- either way tho satoru plays Barbie with u

- so does suguru but satoru plays more bc he is a #barbiegirl

- suguru is more into bratz tbh

- ofc they’re supportive of longer hair and other things too ! :D they love u

- satoru does encourage violence but only when it’s necessary ok . Fight back . Don’t start fights tho. (Secretly tho he’s telling u to start fights, it would be funny)

- suguru yells at him everytime tho

- satoru tends to be affectionate through gift giving, as he’s very bad with expressing his love through his words. Suguru is the opposite. While of course he likes to buy you things he doesn’t nearly as much as satoru, sugurus love often expressed through his vocal cords.

- aunt shoko is a fun aunt can I just say?

- your parents are so protective even if they are chill, so having your even chiller aunt shoko around is amazing

- you can talk to her about anything cuz she won’t rat you out to your dads, she won’t get mad at you, she’s just so understanding

- plus it always helps she has banger advice.

- she also knows how to take care of you a lot better when you’re a lot younger, like satosugu don’t know what they’re doing at first lmao

- shoko helping you with any boo boo’s :,(

- satoru has a habit of buying you two matching clothes so to piss him off shoko buys you clothes to match with her and he’s like >:(

- shoko NEVER smokes around you, in fact you probably don’t even know she does it

- she likes doing your hair

- when you get old enough though she is gonna be the reason you smoke your first blunt just sayin

- she kinda just starts being mama shoko instead of aunt shoko but … u didn’t hear that from me

- she helps you learn a lot of school shit since obviously given the financial situation, satosugu can’t take you into school right away, but shoko is there to help you learn for the time being :)

- doesn’t matter if your a boy she’s giving you a little pink bow to wear

- she likes just being a cool aunt ok

- anyways these 3 r soo good to u they will kill anyone that hurts u

#suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #shoko x reader #shoko x you

[bookshelf-dust]

what are we going to be for halloween?

gareth emerson x fem!reader

word count: 2,166

warnings: flirty little shithead gareth, gareth likes boobs, halloween!! sweet sweet kissy fluff, mentions of smoking?? some ass touching, candy eating

a/n: i LOVE this gif. "pussies? really? because we're not delusional?" something about the way he drags out the "uuuuu" makes me crazy. anyway, i really, really like this!! i hope you do too!! <33

————

October 1988

You're on your back, reading on the couch, book resting against the top of your stomach, just under your chest. You register Gareth walk around in front of you, but you're not really paying him any attention.

Something that he's clearly had enough of.

Gareth walks toward you, and gets onto the couch, wiggling about until he is settled between your legs, head on your tummy, hands tucked under his chin. He rubs his knee up and down your calf as best as he can from the odd angle.

From where he's laying, he cannot see your face--only the book cover and your hands. But lucky for him, your hair is splayed out within his grasp, and he reaches for a strand, giving it a gentle and curious sniff.

"Your hair smells good."

"Wow, thank you, Gareth. It’s almost like that’s what happens when someone washes their hair," you retort.

"You’re such a little shit, you know that? Such a smartass."

You lift the book from its resting place, looking down at him. His cheek rests on his hand, and he grins up at you, looking like a mischievous toddler.

"You think I’ve got a smart ass? Just showering me with compliments today, huh?" He moves a hand, stroking it down your side and wriggling it under you to give your ass a squeeze, making you yelp. The look on his face tells you he's very proud of himself, and you lower your book again so that he is blocked from view.

"Rude," he proclaims. You reach down and lightly slap his ass in return.

"I'd come over here to ask you a question, and now you go about, abusing my delicate rear end? The nerve."

You ignore his dramatics. "Ask the question, Emerson."

"What are we going to be for Halloween?"

That was a good question. You'd been thinking it over for a while, but you needed to make the decision soon in order to have time to prepare for the holiday.

"Huh." You mark your page and close your book, leaning a little to set it on the table opposite the couch.

"Well..." you trail off, patting your chest to signal that you want Gareth closer, for him to scoot up.

"We could be Ferris and Cameron. Or you could be Bender and I could be Claire. You've got the flannel for that. But we don't have to be a pair, you know. It could be individual. I could be Wednesday, or maybe just Allison because you know Andrew pisses me off. Or like, Elvira."

Gareth sat up at that one, straddling your hips. "Don't tease me like that." He had the hots for Elvira, Mistress of The Dark, and you didn't even blame him in the slightest. She was hot and there was no denying that.

"Gare, I haven't got half the boobs for that. It was just an idea.” He looked offended, seriously hurt.

"Hey! Don't say that about them! You're gonna hurt their feelings!"

You rolled your eyes at him. "Stop conversing with my boobs, Gareth."

"I love your boobs. You'd be such a hot Elvira. Really!" You crossed your arms over your chest, not believing him, and hoping he'd forget about the suggestion. He could tell that you thought it might be fun, but then he saw the moment your insecurities shoved their way to the frontline of your thoughts. "We could be Seymour and Audrey."

"Jesus, Gareth. You really want my boobs out, don't you?"

"I love them. They're so nice to me, baby."

————

You’d settled on being Ferris and Cameron. While Gareth really liked the idea of you dressing up in something sexy, he wanted you to be comfortable and happy. So you’d tucked the Elvira idea away for next year, or maybe just for Gareth.

Gareth’s stepdad had an old Flyers jersey lying around, which he was kind enough to let Gareth borrow. You watched him button the khaki pants he’d found during one of your thrift store visits, noticing how good his thighs looked in them.

“Hey, my eyes are up here.” You looked up at him from your perch on his bed, and he smiled at you. “C’mere.” He moved to his dresser, picking up his wallet and making sure the chain was still attached securely.

You stood in front of him and lifted your jacket a little for him. He slipped his wallet into your back pocket, hooking the other end of the chain to one of your belt loops. “I see why you think that’s hot now. Looks way better on you.”

Gareth leaned down to peck you once on the lips and then again on the cheek, making you blush.

You looked in his mirror, kind of agreeing with him, and thinking you might have to get one for yourself.

The two of you stood there in your finished costumes, looking rather cute. You’d gone to all of the local thrift stores repeatedly until you found everything you needed, your Ferris costume proving much more difficult than his Cameron.

You’d found a vest a close as possible to his, and some pants for cheap. The best part was that Steve had a jacket that looked almost identical to Ferris,’ and you were suddenly very thankful he was preppier than you. He’s agreed to let you borrow it, trusting you wouldn’t spill anything on it.

You’d borrowed a white shirt for underneath from Gareth, after discovering you didn’t own anything that wasn’t a dark color. You were lucky he had one that he slept in sometimes when he decided to wear a shirt to bed.

You realized the only part of your outfit that was yours were your shoes, but nevertheless the both of you looked very very sweet.

Gareth wrapped his arms around you and rested his head on your shoulder. “Does kissing in these costumes mean we’ve changed the plot of the movie?”

“Yeah, but that’s how it should’ve been anyways,” you laughed. “Ferris and Cameron were in love and I’m a firm believer in that.”

————

“Where to next?” Gareth asked, driving in the direction of the rich neighborhoods.

You’d already hit all the houses on his street, skirting around all the other teens and their siblings or friends, ignoring the comments from neighbors he knew about whether or not the two of you were too old to be trick-or-treating.

You hadn’t cared in the slightest, wanting to revel in the child-like escapades of Halloween before you officially weren’t a teenager anymore.

“Word on the street is that the people in Loch Nora give out full sized candy bars.” Word on the street being Dustin and his knowledge of the best places to get candy.

“Sold.”

————

Gareth was walking next to you, pillowcase slung over his shoulder, other hand in his pocket. You were looking at him, taking in the way the street lights glinted off the tip of his nose, the way his cupid’s blow shined. You’d never been happier.

You tore your gaze away from him, reaching into your pumpkin bucket and digging around for the Nerds some soccer mom had given you earlier.

It was getting later, the streets having turned fully teen territory now, and Gareth reached to tug you closer to him because of the crowd. You tore open the little pink box, shaking some into your mouth, and then noticed how close you were to him, having been occupied with your candy. He was looking right at you.

“What?” You inquired.

“I want some.” You held the box aloft and he opened his mouth, stopping walking to you let you shake some out.

“Thank you.” He kissed you, and tasted like cherry.

He stayed still after you started to walk again, your eye on a particularly big house with loads of decorations. You noticed and moved back to him.

“You’re so pretty,” he told you, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I love you,” Gareth said. He grinned at the way you blushed under the orange string lights hanging from someone’s carport.

“I love you too, Cam.” He leaned in and kissed you, short and sweet, and then let you practically run off in search of more sugar—which he knew you didn’t need.

After a little while longer, another rich neighborhood, and an alarmingly full pillowcase that might’ve started to rip, you decided to call it a night with the trick-or-treating.

You did decide to drive around for a while, looking at Halloween decorations.

“I’m gonna have to get a better job than the record store if we’re gonna be able to afford our own decorations. Bet we could have the best yard in all of Hawkins.” Gareth noticed you were quiet, and turned to look at you.

“You said ‘we.’ You wanna live with me?” You hesitantly asked.

He looked at you like it was obvious. “‘Course I do. Someday. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, Gare, I would.”

————

“You’re gonna have to spare some Whoppers. I promised Eddie I’d save him some.” The both of you were sitting on his living room floor, raiding your candy stash that you’d now dumped on the carpet.

“He should’ve come with us then. Gotten his own candy.” You stuck your tongue out at him, popping another chocolate ball in your mouth.

Gareth was now searching for anything with white chocolate in it, knowing you hated that shit, and so did he, setting it aside for his sisters, who did like it. The Lost Boys was playing in the background, but you weren’t paying attention, having seen it more than was healthy.

“No. I’m glad it was just the two of us tonight. I like being with you.” You watched him open a pack of chocolate cigarettes, putting one in between his lips. “You can’t yell at me about these, they won’t kill me.”

He held the pack out to you, and you took one, chewing as he closed it and tossed it on the floor. “I’m glad it was just the two of us too, by the way.”

He grinned at you, leaning in and waiting for a kiss. You planted one on his forehead and he pouted. “Noo, you missed!” You tried for a cheek. Then he got sick of your games and put both hands on the sides of your face, kissing you with a loud enough “Mwah!” to make you roll your eyes at him.

————

The two of you scooped up the remainder of your candy and carried it upstairs to his room in order to save it from the other mouths in his house.

You started to strip off the layers of your costume, setting Steve’s jacket carefully on the desk chair in Gareth’s room.

Gareth walked over when he realized you were changing clothes, unhooking the wallet chain for you. “Thank you,” you said, unbuttoning your vest.

You stepped out of your pants, watching Gareth pull the jersey over his head and toss it across the room. He then untangled his necklace from his hair, and your eyes fell to his tummy. His tummy.

You ducked down planting kisses on his soft squish and carding your fingers through his happy trail. “You have problems,” he said.

You kept going, and then realized that his thighs were right there, and they looked oh so good in those pants, so you gave them a squeeze.

“No problems. Just love you.” Another belly kiss, another thigh rub.

His cheeks went red, and you left him to dig in your bag for pajamas. “No. Nope. Stop that. Wear something of mine, please, I beg of you.”

You pulled his shirt off over your head and waited for him to pick something new out, but he got sidetracked looking at your chest. “Hey, my eyes are up here, dipshit.”

“I told you I love your boobies,” he said, tossing a Motörhead shirt at you.

“Don’t say boobies, Gareth.”

He giggled. “I like your boobies and I’m proud of it, so I’ll say boobies if I please. Pants or no?”

“Please. It’s cold in here.” He tossed a pair of old pajama pants at you, and then slipped into sweats himself. He turned around, and groaned at the sight of you in his clothes.

“Ughh. I love you.”

He grabbed your hand, leading you to his bed, snuggling under the covers with you.

He slipped his hand underneath your shirt rubbing your belly, and you took the chance to do the same, not missing the way his lips quirked up.

You leaned in. “I wanna spend all the rest of the Halloweens with you.”

He smiled fully at you, happy and warm. “Right back at you, baby.”

You leaned in, kissing him slowly, a warm press of your lips against his. He ran his tongue along your bottom lip, and you let him in for a moment before pulling away.

“I love you, Gareth.”

“I love you too, sweet thing.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#gareth emerson #gareth stranger things #halloween fic #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson x fem!reader #gareth emerson x female reader #corroded coffin #ferris bueller's day off #gareth emerson x you #gareth emerson fic #gareth emerson fanfic #gareth emerson fluff #savannah’s fics

[harlowsbby]

Best thing I never had

“Come on let’s talk out all of our feelings I mean you’ve both been together for about five years now and you’ve been engaged for a few months, I don’t think this is worth getting a divorce.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes was Urban being serious right now.

You just found out the man of your so called dreams has been sleeping with your best friend behind your back, even after you gave her a home to stay in after leaving her abusive and toxic ex, you didn’t think they’d ever do something like this but I guess you were wrong.

“There isn’t anything to talk about Urban I’m done with him and I’m most certainly done with her, the two of them can kick rocks for all I care.” Jack looked up at you in sorrow and defeat he knew he had just lost the best thing he ever had.

A few weeks earlier

“Remind me why Miya is coming to stay with us again?” Your friend Miya was coming over for a few days well more like a few months but Jack didn’t need to know that.

You finished up making up her bed before turning your attention back on Jack.

“She’s going through a hard time Jack she can’t afford to live on her own financially especially since her breakup with Jessie and she needs a place to stay besides her sisters.” Jack rolled his eyes and went downstairs with you after him.

“If you don’t want her to stay Jack I can tell her that Jack is acting like a big grumpy baby and honestly wants you on the street.” You stated dramatically making him smack his lips.

“Now you know I’d never say anything like that I just wanna make sure we’ll still have our time together.” You coo’d and made your way over to him and stood in between his legs, resting your arms on his shoulders.

“As long as you promise we get some we time then I don’t care if she spends a few days or months here.” You squealed and jumped up and down. “Thank you Jack she’s gonna be so happy to be here I know she can’t wait to get a break.”

You gave Jack a quick kiss before heading upstairs to call Miya.

“What did I miss?” Came Urban’s voice from the living room. “When did you get here?” Jack asked him with his eyebrows furrowed together.

“I’ve been here remember you let me crash last night, what was Y/N going on about.” Jack sighed and hopped off the counter. “Her friend Miya broke up with her boyfriend so I guess she’ll be living her for a few months. Till she gets back up on her feet at least.”

“Wait Miya? As in her best friend Miya.” “Yeah what about her?” Urban smacked his lips and rubbed his bearded chin. “Miya is a baddie that’s what and you get to see that fine piece of ass walking around your house for free. I’m very jealous of you.”

Jack wasn’t understanding what Urban was talking about or what he was getting at.

“What are you on about Urban?” “You got the best of both worlds Jack take advantage of that shit if I was you I’d be messing around with Miya on the lowww.” Urban song sang.

“So you expect for me to cheat on my wife to be with her best friend since birth?” Jack raised his eyebrows at Urban who was already chin deep in some leftover chili.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Jack knew thinking about the possibility of cheating on you was wrong but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t glance at Miya’s chest or ass whenever she was around and now that he was thinking about it Miya did give him flirty eyes a few times.

“You’re thinking about it aren’t you?!” Urban laughed and got up and tossed his dish in the sink Jack rolled his eyes at him before hopping down the counter.

“Whatever Urban I don’t need you putting any ideas in my head, I’ll see you later at the party alright?” It was Clay’s birthday and since he never really celebrated his birthday Jack wanted to throw him a surprise birthday party.

“Yeah, I’ll see you later Jack but remember what I said! Two is better then one.” Urban snickered before leaving the house leaving a wondering Jack all alone in his thoughts.

Later that evening

“Come on you guys have been in there for like hours it feels like.” Jack huffed and puffed in frustration as Miya and You giggled from behind the locked door.

You were both getting ready for Clay’s birthday and Jack knew how long it took you to get ready but now having Miya with you as well he knew he’d never get a chance to use the bathroom.

“I have to pee really really bad!!” Jack yelled through the door. “So use the guest bathroom or use Miya’s bathroom, you can’t incapable.” You sassily told him.

“So go use the guest bathroom blah blah blah.” Jack mumbled under his breath. “What did you just say?” He froze when you heard him behind him he turned around and gave you a weak smile and blushed when he noticed Miya laughing from behind you.

“I said I’ll go use the guest bathroom and take your time the party doesn’t start for another hour or two.” You glared at him and nodded your head in approval “That’s what I thought you said.” Jack looked back at Miya who sent him a flirty wink making his face red.

“Why is your face red?” Jack completely forgot you were still in front of him. “Uh it’s just really hot in here that’s all baby I’m gonna go get some water and get ready.”

You had a feeling he wasn’t telling you the truth because Jack’s face never just got red out of the blue and it wasn’t even hot in here it was freezing.

“I’m gonna go downstairs and get some water, do you want anything?” Miya asked you “Oh no I’m good but thank you.” You gave her a small smile before going back to doing your hair.

Miya bit her lip nervously as she made her way downstairs she looked back up the stairs before quickly dashing to the bathroom Jack was in and shutting the door from behind her.

“What-.” Jack looked up form brushing his teeth and his eyes widened seeing Miya behind him. “Hey Jack.” She slurred her words and ran her fingers across his shoulder blades.

“Oh hey Mia or I mean Miya yeah hey Miya.” He spoke nervously making her chuckle. “I just wanna thank you again for letting me stay here I still feel bad. I feel as if I’m intruding on Y/N and you.”

“Absolutely not you can stay as long as you want I don’t mind honestly.” Jack watched her nervously as she looked around the bathroom. He loved how her pink and well manicured nails gripped around the water bottle, oh how he wished those hands were wrapped around something else.

“Jack!! Hello.” He quickly snapped out of his daze and began to blush when he realized what he was day dreaming about. Miya smirked as if she knew what he was dreaming about.

“You know I’m not stupid Jack, I know you want me just as bad as I want you.” She whispered in his ear and ran her tongue across his earlobe.

“I never said I wanted you Miya I’m engaged and about to be happily married I’m not sure who told you that.” She rolled her eyes. “You did Jack, your body language did I see the way you practically undress me with your eyes whenever I’m around. I’m no fool Jack.”

Jack gulped and leaned back on his bathroom sink he didn’t think it was that obvious. “So what are we about to do or what does this mean.” Miya licked her lips and slowly made her way to her knees before unbuttoning Jack’s jeans and shaking them till they fell to the floor.

“How about I show you where things can go for us.” Jack inhaled and watch Miya go to work he bit his lip and tried his best to hold in his moans and groans but it felt so good.

“Fuck Miya.” He groaned and gripped the counter behind him, his veins poking through his muscled arms and before he knew it he was coming undone under her touch.

“Better clean yourself up I don’t want Y/N suspect anything.” She smiled innocently before placing a kiss on his lips and leaving the bathroom as if nothing just happened.

“What did I just get myself into it.” He told himself and groaned.

At the party

The entire car ride over to the party you felt as if something was off something in the air didn’t seem right. You sat in the back on the way to the party with Miya but the entire car ride there you noticed Jack would glance in the back a few times through the review mirror.

You sat with Urban and Neelam and watched Jack talk with a few of his friends.

“A penny for your thoughts?” You looked up seeing it was Miya.

“Oh it’s nothing Miya just be overthinking like always.” You gave her a weak smile and went back to stirring your drink.

“Come on you know you can’t hide anything from me we’ve been best friends since birth.” You sighed maybe it was best to tell somebody.

“Something is off with Jack he just seems like he’s hiding something.” “How do you know he’s hiding something?”

You’ve been with Jack for a minute and you could always tell whenever something was bothering him. “His body language he looks so stiff as if he’s got something to say.” Miya mentally cursed she hated the way you were so good at reading everyone’s body language.

“I’m sure he’s okay Y/N if something was wrong I’m sure he’d tell you now come on let’s go get a drink.”

“Yeah you’re right he’d tell me if something was wrong. Now let’s go get a drink and get fucked up tonight.” She smirked and raised her shot before drowning it. “That’s my girl now let’s go.”

Later on in the night it started to die down a bit which you were thankful for. Looking around you noticed Jack and Miya weren’t around which you found odd. You got up and went into the kitchen where Ace and Urban sat, drowning down a bag of Cheeto puffs.

“Have you guys seen Jack or Miya?” You asked them. “Uh last time I saw Miya she was with Neelam but as for Jack I’m not sure.” Ace said with a face filled with Cheeto dust. You giggled and got a napkin and cleaned his face up. “Thank you Y/N.”

You sighed and left the kitchen wondering where Jack was because all you wanted to do was go home and cuddle in bed with him while some baking show played in the background.

You decided to step outside for some air the smell of beer and weed recked all over the house. Once outside you finally let out the biggest gasp for air.

You leaned against the garage door and took out your phone just flipped through some tik toks to try and pass the time before deciding to text Jack.

Jack 💕

- where are you, you wanna go home?

You waited for the message to go through before putting it back in your pocket but as you did you heard a ding go off. You scrunched your eyebrows up in confusion seeing the window in your car rolled down a bit.

“Jack? Is that you in there.” Your stomach began to turn and flip when you heard the familiar groans and moans of Jack.

“Fuck just like that Jack.” “Yeah? You like that Miya I bet you do.” “Oh I do Jack fuck you’re so good.”

You watched with blurry eyes as Jack and Miya messed around in the back of your car.

“So after seven years together it means nothing? I’m just that easy to cheat on.” You spoke and watched how Jack pulled away from Miya and how she quickly tried to cover herself up.

“It isn’t what it looks like baby.” “It’s exactly what it looks like Jack and Miya I should’ve known you weren’t a loyal friend.” You whimpered and began to walk backwards.

“Baby please just hear me out please.” You watched as Jack stumbled out of the car and tried his best to throw on his shirt.

“No Jack what we have or had is over I’m done with you I’m done with the both of you.”

“Y/N don’t be so dramatic Jack always wanted me and you can’t be angry over that.” Miya laughed from the backseat as Jack tried to hush her up.

“Let’s just go back home baby and talk about this Yeah?” He went to grab your arm but you quickly yanked it back. “No I’m done you stay here and have fun with your sloppy seconds. We’re done Jack and this, us, we’ll never be anything ever again.”

Flashback over

“And that’s what happened and that’s why this entire engagement is over. Why would I marry someone who’s been unfaithful.” You looked down to Jack who looked down in shame.

Urban knew he had a part in this and the right thing to do was to come clean and tell you that he made Jack do it but he figured you’d be hurt enough.

“So were really done?” Jack whispered with tear-filled eyes.

“There was a time that I thought you did everything right, no wrongs, I must’ve been out of my mind.” You chuckled you use to put Jack on a pedestal in your eyes he could do no wrong.

“We’re done Jack. I’m done with you. Forget me and forget my number and act like I never been existed, because I’ll be doing the same thing.” With that you got up and walked away leaving the man you once loved.

You were the best thing he ever had but you were also going to be the best thing he never had.

( was iffy about this one since it’s my first real fic in a minute but lmk what y’all think 😭 )

( Sorrows will be up tomorrow )

taglist

@heavyhitterheaux @nattinatalia

@a-moment-captured @moody4world

@pianoisland @hoodharlow @softtcurse

@lcandothisallday @jackmans-poison

@jackharloww @awhore4moree

@exoticr0ses

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x you

[fitzs-space]

Watched Labyrinth last night with @galacticjay1, and my brain worms took over.

So woe, hermitcraft Labyrinth au be upon ye

Gem as Sarah, main character energy unfortunately but someone's gotta do it. she's the type to just end up in situations. that way the baby Toby can be her puppy Winnie. [alt option would have been Scott, cause Scott's got the vibe to just be in places, but he could not be bothered to actually go through the labyrinth]

Bdubs as Hoggle, just look at him. the tolken short guy whos forced to help and will complain every step of the way about it, and will completely kissass up to their boss. Also both having a prized possession always kept at their side [the Clock, and the bundle of jewelry]

Scar as Jareth the Goblin King, Yea. Who else.

Etho as Ludo, just vibes really. Quiet dude willing to help and can just do wild shit for no good reason. [alt option was Doc, cause he's got the tall brute force energy to him as well, by they said it didn't fit. Docs got more of a higher energy to him then what would fit]

Rens Sir Didymus, Dog Knight. eccentric mf who screams out soliloquys going on about saving the fair madden they have devoted their time and service to, is that Sir Didymus or Ren? yes. Ok those are the main ones, now onto the other characters met in the labyrinth in approximate order of appearance

Xisuma is the worm. look at that mf and tell me I am wrong, one of the lines is this dude asking Sarah to come in for a cup of tea. Id apologize to the Xisuma enjoyers, but this is tumbler and people know he's a bit of a wet paper bag kinda guy.

Impulse and Skizz are the door Guards, The guards have no idea what's going on and neither do those two. I know its Technically the "Four Guards" and It could be team Zits, but the vibe isn't there fully. the type of mfs to mislead someone by pure accident[Skizz], and also cause its a lil funny[Impulse]

Martin as the False Alarms, their entire roll is to dramatically shout false warnings at the people who pass. If I didn't make the man who abuses the voice effects on his GoXLR as the rocks who wait to shout at people, I'd be making a mistake. [listener ass bitch] Also there is straight up a line where one of them goes "oh please, we don't get to shout these very often, its only our job" in some posh voice, then go back to the deep dramatic shouting. and that's just Martin man.

Grian and Mumbo as the Door Knockers, vibes [its also funny to make everyone's favorite guys as characters only seen for five minuets at most] If any two guys are going to be subjected to living their life forever constantly shouting at each other barely being able to understand what the other is saying, it'd be those two. Grian would be the Left, would also scream if he couldn't hear someone [Watcher allegations also] Mumbo as right because the ring in his mouth could be drawn as his mustache

Tango's a Firey, look at him. Cartoon ass bitch, the entire scuffed greenscreen dance sequence is on par with his thumbnails. I know there are supposed to be five of the dudes, but shhhh Zedaph would also fit with these fuckers. the type of guy who could probably detach his head, but still knows that there are manners and its rude to throw someone else's head

Pearl as the Junk Lady, she's the cleaning lady and collects trash, was it ever a question? And Pearls gremlin voice is the exact same as the Junk lady's voice

Doc's the lil fairies at the beginning of the labyrinth, everyone say thank you to Doccy for butterfly truthing Doc.

Jellie as just all the goblins, Scar the Jellie king instead of the Goblin king. The threat of Winnie getting turned into a cat is kinda funny, also there's the Humongous? that's a Jellie panda

the only main characters Im missing is the Wise Man and the Hat, I just do not know who to put them as, maybe Xb and Keralis cause of vibe? or Xb and Hypno cause of the horsehead farms bit. I do not know.

All that will come from this is me maybe drawing Ren and Scar as the characters, feel free to do what you want with this, my brain just needed to scream about this really

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #labyrinth #dont ask man #Hermit labyrinth au #got my grubby minecraft enjoying hands on the silly david bowie puppet movie #im not tagging the characters

[sloppy-little-witch-bitch26]

Can you write what type of dad thor could he when he wasn't drunk and under odin's abuse. We never really got to see him be a father to thrud during those three years so if you have any head cannons or anything please do so!:)

I LOVE THIS - prefacing by saying this is how I picture Thor as a dad had he not had Odin’s influence

Thor as a *good* dad minus Odin’s influence.

- This man ADORES his babies. I mean would do anything for his kiddos

- You hear his thunderous laugh in the Great Lodge before he boulders on in with Magni hanging off one arm, Modi hanging off the other and tiny Thrud draped round his neck like a child cape

- He’s the dad that laughs hysterically and points when his boys are rough housing

- They touch Thrud though or she so much as let’s out an “Ow” best believe he’s picking up Magni and Modi by the ears and putting them in time out even though he knows damn well Thrud would put them on their arse in so much as a blink of an eye

- Bath time comes around, you just know he’s pretending to be a *non harmful* Dreki flailing around, water everywhere, dramatically flopping around once his kids have “bested the beast”

- Teaches his kiddos the best way to take down monsters. Thor’s bubbas aren’t scared of monsters. Nope, monsters are scared of Thor’s offspring

- I can see the maids and servants of the lodge just being all “not it” when they know it’s time to clean up the carnage of play time

- makes them mini wooden weapons so they can play pretend and be like daddy

- as they get older, teaches them discipline, how to be great warriors but also be humble. They may be gods/Demi gods but even gods need to know how to protect themselves and their family.

- With Thrud though, let’s face it, whatever his little princess wants? She gets. End of

- if they fail, he teaches them how to over come those failings and be better.

- will let Thrud braid his hair and beard and you just know he rocks those mismatched uneven braids with PRIDE because his baby made them

- When they are of age, teaches them how to “woo” partners by saying shit like “when I first met your mother, I took down many foes to show her how strong I am”. Sif’s there like “yeah… sure you did” when truth be told, it was more than likely Sif that took them on because man’s was just in awe

- Anyone so much as looks at Thrud though, he’s reaching for Miljonir

- one tradition that he sticks to no matter how old they get? Telling stories by the fire. When the kiddos are young, many wooden horses were carved, sat on furs, drinking hot honey while he’s carving and telling them the most outlandish versions of his adventures, one kiddo curled up on either side of his lap and one in the middle. It would be nothing but warmth from the flames and so many choruses of laughter coming from him, Sif and his bubbas until the laughter is replaced by soft, even breathing as he looks down and each one of them are fast asleep.

- Him and Sif slowly bend down and pick up each child, Thor carrying two, Sif carrying one, careful not to disturb their slumber as their taken to their beds

- This carries on well into the kids being grown. The carvings may have changed from horses but the laughter and love and warmth is still there

#brb gonna go cry now #Thor #God of war #God of war Thor #gow thor #gow thrud #gow Magni #Gow modi #Modi #Magni #GOW Sif #dad!Thor #Gow of war ragnarok #gow ragnarok #Thrud #my hcs

[hyperactivewhore]

I think I have seen your account on tiktok replying to someone saying you have never liked Caroline

I don’t either bc I feel like she never really had a dramatic development like people say she did

what do you think

This may come out as bashing towards Rebekah and Caroline, that isn't my intention at all because I honestly love Rebekah and I don't hate Caroline, as many people seem to think, I just don't like her. I don't care enough for any fictional character to hate them, I assure you that.

I feel Caroline just had development in season two, where her character got more popular, but after that it feels the writers went back to make her the same girl from season one but less mean and more confident.

Don't get me wrong, her personality did have a change but I don't feel it was as big as everyone says. Tvdu generally gives character development to its character only to take it away in the next season. I feel the biggest example of this could be Damon and Klaus, with Damon it was because they never decided if they wanted him to be good or a villain and I don't have a reason as to why they decided to do that with Klaus.

The main reason of why I feel Caroline wasn't that great of a character it's because of how her presence didn't significantly alter the plot and she was just there most of the time, I don't think the seasons would have changed that much if she wasn't present and in my opinion, Candice has never been really good at acting so I really don't feel anything whenever she cries, or in any other of her emotional scenes. Phoebe Tonkin, in my opinion, is more or less the same, and this isn't me shitting in their acting skills, it's just my opinion and before anyone (yk who) decides to come for my throat, I'm not "bashing" them for being women. I think Nina Dobrev, Leah Pipes and Kat Graham, as well as Danielle Rose Russell, are one of the best actress the tvd universe has.

The fact that Caroline was a mix of toxic female harmful stereotypes just makes her look bad as a character and of course this wasn't Candice's fault, but Caroline, as well as Rebekah, was everything a female character shouldn't be if you went for the route of feminist woman and that is what Julie Pl*c wanted them to be. Both of them had traits that weren't at all feminist and they didn't deserve to be used as punching bags for toxic abusive men. Having Caroline and Rebekah grow out of these behaviors and traits would have made them good characters and more interesting to analyze, because what do we know of these characters outside the unhealthy/toxic mentality they have?

They made Caroline a mother when she never experienced any desire to be one, they used her for her body and she never said a word about this. Rebekah suddenly became obssesed with becoming a mother out of nowhere, but with the way she behaves it's clear it would not be healthy for her to have a baby. Both of them antagonized women at one point for jealousy/insecurities and they never apologized. Honestly, there are more reasons but I feel I explained the more important ones. I feel Caroline and Rebekah are really similar but at the same time drastically different, not the same character in a different font, because their personalities aren't that similar but both of them deserved better storyline that weren't tied to men.

You probably did see my account in tiktok. My user is @nikmikaelsonswhore, ironic because I'm bashing him half of the time and people get really pressed. If people want this in the anti Caroline Forbes tag tell me and I'll tag it properly, because I honestly don't know if this comes out as anti, but be sure to tell me anyway!

#caroline forbes #rebekah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #bonnie bennett #elena gilbert #camille o'connell #the vampire diaries #the originals #tvd #to #legacies #josie saltzman #lizzie saltzman

[princeblue]

What’s your quarrel with Sanemi ships? Just a curious question :0??

Oh it’s because people use sanemi ships to devalue the bond between him and genya.

At first glance yes you could assume that sanemi hates genya, but if people would bother to read a little between the lines they would see that Sanemi’s entire world revolves around genya and as does Genya’s revolves around sanemi.

It feels like specifically people use sanemi ships to shit on genya because they think he hates him, they like to imagine that sanemi would pick a girl he was implied to have a crush on by a ladies man (masachika, kanae) or the man he continuously hated throughout the entire series and only found tolerable at the very end during the heat of a battle (giyuu) then I truly urge you to reread the series and actually pay attention to the way sanemi reacts to things vs how he reacts to genya.

Yes the eye poking incident happened and while I hate that sanemi attempted it, you have to realize this man reacts by attacking first and asking questions later, as clearly seen with Tanjirou AND in rengoku’s gaiden. He has no problem being rude and physically violent to teenagers and I’m assuming people of his own age and older.

And yet when he meets genya for the second time he’s verbal in his anger, yes he calls genya worthless, a scumbag and no brother of mine. But its a dramatic difference between flippantly telling him to leave because he has no talent instead of jumping the gun to physically harm him.

Which he only does when genya tells sanemi he has been eating demons, Sanemi’s worst fucking nightmare and the confirmation that’s he’s failing to keep genya safe, his only purpose of life and something that he says himself in the kny novels.

So he snaps, and while it’s not okay it’s still the quite the large difference between how he reacts when he just sees a stranger (rengoku in his gaiden) or giyuu or literally anyone else.

There’s also the fact that my good friend maple pointed out that in the Japanese text when genya is dying he’s essentially baby talking, “because my niichan is the nicest person in the world” — “don’t worry niichan will do something” which is going to be extremely strange for a 16 year old buff boy to be baby talking to his big brother and YET his big brother meets him halfway with “niichan will do something”

Oh and we can’t forget sanemi canonically coming to visit his brother in his sleep after ssv to make sure that genya is okay.

Basically, in a long winded way to say, Genya is the only person that sanemi ever shows any sign of actually caring about, beneath his cruel exterior he still cares enough about his baby brother to come visit him to make sure he’s safe and also to meet his baby talk halfway as genya is in an extremely vulnerable state and what I can assume very fearful too.

So when I see people making fanon sanemi enjoy when genya is physically harmed when sanemi dropped his “I have no brother” act the second genya was sliced and diced by kokushibou and also suffered at the abuse of their father, when I see people make sanemi a huge simp for kanae and giyuu to the point he ignores Genya, or calls genya a faggot and tells him to go kill himself in stupid fucking twitter aus, I get angry and I get hateful of sanemi ships.

No sanemi wouldn’t let his partner call him “nemi” or “niichan” which only genya calls him, no sanemi wouldn’t let someone harm Genya, no sanemi wouldn’t pick anyone whether he they were romantic or platonic to him over Genya his only purpose of living.

And I’m not saying you can’t enjoy sanegiyuu or sanekana or whatever sanemi ship you enjoy, im just saying there’s a way to enjoy it and I will be judging you if you’re ignoring Genya’s importance to sanemi and his character as a whole.

#demon slayer #genya shinazugawa #kny #blue rambles #sanemi shinazugawa #anon #I had to rewrite this like twice because I kept getting mean

[random-imagines-blog]

The Impaler {Billy Loomis x Female!Reader x Stu Macher}

Wordcount: 7487 (Oopsies) Summary: Billy gets jealous of the fact that you have to work with Stu on a project. He makes sure it’s a real hands-on sort of experience. Notes: Contains: choking, blowjobs, rough blowjobs, bondage, m/f penetration, facial, threesome, degrading talk, insults, swearing, dominating behavior.

You could hear him at your window. Music was playing from your speaker softly, not loud enough to interrupt your concentration, and not loud enough to hear the jiggling of the lock. You looked over your shoulder to see a knife coming through the bottom, trying to get at the lock. You probably should have been frightened. There was a murderer loose in Woodsboro. That could be him now, trying to get into your room. Any moment now you were expecting to see the stupid mask that he apparently wore, rising into view. But you weren’t scared. In fact, you were just feeling exasperated, and tired. It had been a long day and you weren’t in the mood for any visitors. You rolled your eyes and went back to your book, hoping that he would give up, that he wouldn’t get past the lock that you put down when you got home because of this bad mood. But that stubbornness was strong. It’s what you had found so appealing about him in the first place. That and the bad boy look, the way that his hair always hung in his eyes like he was Johnny Depp in Cry Baby. Billy Loomis managed to get the lock, push it off to the side and push your window up. First one jean clad leg and then the other, the rest of his body ducking low to avoid getting hit as he swung into your bedroom.

“What the fuck,” Billy said, as you didn’t turn around, your eyes perusing the page. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him. At taking in those dark eyes, the jacket that you knew that he was wearing despite the warmth outside. You knew that you’d fall again and your books here wouldn’t have a single chance of competition. Read, read, read. “Y/n. Look at me.”

You really tried. But he had taken the steps to be right behind you. To take your chin in his hand and force your head to look in his direction. Eye contact, you were a sucker for it, and you knew that you were done for. His own eyes were filled with flames. He was angry, and that was never a good thing for a Loomis. How many nights have you held him while he ranted about his father. While he let himself be vulnerable in front of you, something that he never did in front of anyone. Not even in front of his so called girlfriend. Sydney Prescott. She knew about the abuse, there was no hiding it, but he kept her still at arm’s length.

“It’s been a long day, Billy,” You sighed, your shoulders slumping. “I’ll listen to you if you need to talk but if you’re looking for something more from me tonight, I’m sorry. Not in the mood, and too tired.” And what was that something more that he might have been looking for? You. Your body, your lips, whatever he needed, you usually gave. Even with him having a girlfriend. And even with - well, Randy. You weren’t dating the film nerd but people always assumed that you were. You thought that even thought that there was something going on between you two when you just felt nothing. It was cruel to let him continue thinking that there was something there, that’s true, but you just couldn’t hurt him like that. You just prayed that another girl would come along and take his fancy, then you’d be off scott free.

“Oh, it’s been a long day for you?” Billy asked. “Oh, okay, I’m so sorry. It’s not like I’ve been looking around all over the fucking city for you when your mom told me you didn’t come home after school.”

Shit. Right. You had forgotten to tell her that you would be running late - of course she would be dramatic with Billy when he called. She had given you a hard time when you finally got back, and you tuned her out, learning how to do that when you were a kid. If she mentioned Billy calling at all, it was in one ear and out the other.

“I’m sorry,” You said, not being able to avert your eyes. “Harrison gave us a big project and I met up with my partner at the library to talk about it. Well, I talked about it mostly, he just sort of-”

“Who?” Billy asked, his eyes narrowing. “You said he.”

For someone with a girlfriend, he really could be a jealous asshole sometimes. That was part of his charm. Randy completely thought that Billy hated him because of the rumors that went around. Whenever you sat close to him to avoid feeling like a fifth wheel beside Tatum, Stu, Sydney and Billy, there were glares coming from his direction. It made you feel special, despite the fact that he didn’t have ground to stand on.

“Stu,” You said, slowly, trying to avert your eyes as his own started to flare up. His eyebrows shooting high.

“Like Stu?” He asked, as if he wasn’t quite sure that he heard you. “Our Stu. My Stu. Macher?”

“I don’t know of any others,” You said, but quickly put out your hand to touch his arm. “It’s okay though, right? Like you said, it’s Stu. Our Stu, your Stu, Macher,” You repeated his words. “It’s just a history report about some historical figure. We figured out that it was going to be Vlad Dracul - his idea because he loves those shitty Dracula movies, and that I’d do most of the work and let him sign off on it. Get him an easy grade. If I let him do anymore than his name, I know I’ll lower my grade to a D for sure. Can’t have that in Harrison’s class.”

You were talking too much, you knew that by the way that he wasn’t looking reassured at all. You had hoped that he would. It was Stu after all, his best friend. There should be nothing to be jealous about there, right? But apparently not.

“Right,” He said, nodding, letting go of your face and backed towards the window. He purposefully made himself farther away, it was clear to see. “So you didn’t tell me that you were going to be with Stu tonight. Or your mom. And he didn’t mention it either. How fucking convenient.”

“Really, Billy? Are you going to make accusations about Stu and I?” You scoffed. “You can be ridiculous sometimes but that’s a big fat no.”

“I just find it ... funny,” Billy said, though his face didn’t show any sort of amusement. “Right, well, I’ll leave you to your super important project that you’re doing with Stu,” He growled out the name of his best friend. “Since that’s clearly what matters most to you. Maybe I’ll go see what Sydney’s doing. Crawl up her window. At least she appreciates it when I do it.”

“Fine,” You said, crossing your arms, trying not to give in though he knew. He had to have known. That’s where your weak point was. Sydney. That every time he mentioned her name or their relationship, it was a stab in your heart. “You can even tell her that I say hello, if you want. Though I don’t think you will. You’re still keeping us a secret and all that,” You shot right back.

“That’s how it is?” He asked, sticking one leg out and straddled the windowsill. “Fuck, how many times do I have to tell you? She’s still upset over her mom, I can’t just be that asshole.”

“And I didn’t pick my partner for this assignment, and I’m not just going to let Stu down. I can’t be that asshole,” You said, turning his own words against him. He scoffed at you. He actually scoffed, and then let himself out through your window, climbing down the trellis. He even left it open which he knew annoyed the shit out of you. You had to get up, head over, and slam it down, turning the lock again, though clearly it did little good. You thought for a moment and then wedged a piece of wood over top of it so it couldn’t slide open more than a couple of inches, even if it was unlocked. That would have to do.

-

Your classmates filtered out of the room slowly, but you stayed behind with Stu for a moment. The guy had almost gotten himself suspended today because of that smartass mouth and that goofy smile. The class clown, that’s what he tended to be. “If you want a decent grade, Stu, you’ve got to at least act like you’re doing some of the work,” You sighed, getting up from your desk and picked up your books along with you. “Harrison will figure that you picked the topic but come on, that’ll only get you like ten marks. Don’t you want to graduate?”

Stu laughed in his usual way. He was a lot more of a casual guy than Billy was. He put his arm around your shoulders, his lanky frame being at least a head above you. He usually just put his elbow on top of your head and leaned on it so this was a rather nice difference. “Just don’t do my parts too well. Throw in some spelling mistakes. Maybe a dirty joke, that’ll make it seem like it’s really me. I’m fuckin’ counting on you. Do me proud!”

You both walked out of the classroom like that. Just chatting. Just laughing. He was giving you some jokes that you should put in about all of the impaling. And you knew that you would have to if you wanted it to be realistic. You were laughing at one particular one when a bad feeling came over you. The feeling of being watched. Everyone was on edge with the Ghostface killer being around but this felt different, familiar, more dangerous.

Billy. He was standing at the end of the hallway. His eyes were piercing into yours, staring at you. Staring at the way that Stu had his arm around you. You quickly brushed that arm off, which caught Stu’s attention. He looked at you, and then down the hall. “Shit,” He sighed.

“Wait, you know?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

“About you and Loomis? Course I know. He tells me everythinnngggg...” And then he looked you up and down with his creepy Stu Macher smile as if to emphasize his point. You groaned and pushed him away from you with all of your might, causing that thin form to go flying towards the lockers.

“You’re making it worse,” You hissed, and looked back down the hall to see if Billy was still there. He wasn’t. And that didn’t bring you any relief.

--

You walked down the stairs in the front of the school, reading over your notes again. You just had a big quiz in your final class and you were mentally checking off what you had put down. It was seeming like it went well. You might have gotten one or two things confused but - you’d still get a good grade. You’d been worried about Billy throughout most of the day. Wondering what he was going to pull because there was always going to be something. Maybe he would do that thing where he’d be super affectionate with Sydney in front of you, knowing how much that affected you.

But to your surprise, you heard a honk. Billy Loomis’s car was idling by the front steps. students walking past it to get to their bus stop or walk home. It wasn’t that out of the ordinary for him to call to you. You were all in the same friend group. But he was waving you over, impatience already showing on his features. “Come on, y/n,” He said, his window rolling down. He looked like the epitome of bad boy right there. The slight snarl. The hair in his face. Those cheekbones that you loved running your tongue along. When you didn’t move fast enough, when you stared at him curiously, he pressed down on the horn, letting out a loud, annoying blast.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” You said, scurrying forward, holding onto the strap of your bag. You curled in to get in the passenger seat, setting your bag down by your feet.

“Where are we going?” You asked as he started to drive. It wasn’t the direction of your house. It wasn’t the direction of his place either. He was taking you to the nicer side of town. “Billy?”

“Taking you to Stu’s,” He said, his voice steady, his eyes on the road. His jaw seemed clenched. “Taking you to work on that important project of yours. That’s what you would have been doing anyway, wasn’t it?”

“Well, not today, probably sometime on the weekend...” You said, looking out the window. “I don’t have the materials to work on Dracul today.”

“That’s not the project that I’m talking about,” Billy said.

“Then what is?” You questioned. He didn’t answer, just adding to your budding frustration. He turned the radio up. Some rock station. It must be broadcasting from another town with a really strong signal since every other station was talking about the murders. Scaring people into a frenzy. It was the last thing on your mind right then, since it was apparent that there were other dangers to face.

Stu’s house came upon you sooner than you hoped that it would. The tall boy was waiting by the door, wearing that ugly robe of his, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Billy got out of the car first, came around, opened your door, and all but tugged you out. “Billy-”

“Fuck’s going on, man?” Stu asked. Though he hardly seemed concerned. Was that even a word that he knew? He kept on having that stupid smile on his face. The one that never left. It was a bit eerie now that you thought about it. How could Tatum stand it for long periods of time?

“It’s time to work on your project,” Billy said, smiling in return. He kept one hand on your back, pushing you, making you roughly pass by Stu and into the house. “That’s what you both wanted. And I’m here to help.”

“That’s cool dude, yeah,” Stu said, being agreeable as always. If he sensed something off about Billy, he was seeming to embrace it rather than be scared of it. You were so hesitant, you tried not to move, tried to drag your feet, but Billy just would not let you. You were pushed on up the stairs. Stu even helped. He grabbed hold of your arms and hoisted you up over his shoulder. “I got some movies from the video store! Horror movie research!”

“That’s not what I was talking about,” Billy said, following Stu in. You were hitting the lanky man’s back but it was making no difference at all. You watched as Billy closed the door. Turned the lock. That made you gulp. Stu turned around so you were now facing the staircase rather than Billy. Once more, you felt more afraid of not seeing him than actually being able to watch what he was doing.

“Fuck man, I don’t wanna read the book,” Stu whined. “The movies are so much better.”

“Take her up to your room,” Billy said. Stu hesitated, just like you had, but he did eventually turn around and start the walk. You could feel the bounce of every step. And you could look into Billy’s dark eyes again. He looked calm, unsettlingly calm.

“Billy?” You asked again. It came out as more of a plea for answers than anything, but he just shook his head. The bad feeling was growing more and more in the pit of your stomach.

Stu opened a door and took you inside. You had been in this house for parties before but never in his bedroom. You didn’t have much of a chance to look around before you were dropped down on the bed with a bounce. You tried to get up but immediately, Billy was on top of you, his knee against your stomach, fighting against your hands. “Billy - stop - for fuck’s sake -”

Stu just laughed, seemingly finding your fighting to be funny. Billy didn’t though. Billy looked over his shoulder at him annoyed. “You’re the one that wanted this,” He said, turning back to glare at you. “So don’t act like you don’t.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” You insisted.

“Got those ropes still?” Billy asked Stu, who nodded. You weren’t going to be getting any help from your history partner, that was becoming really obvious. Stu actually moved forward to help. Billy held you down while Stu slipped them around your wrists, the other ends tied around the bed-frame. You didn’t even really have time to wonder how kinky Tatum was before you found yourself strapped up. Billy finally stepped off of you.

“Okay, okay, you got me,” You said with a nervous laugh. “You’re scaring me. That’s what you wanted right? I’m scared. I’ll never blow you off again. I’ll ask Harrison if I can switch partners. I’ll find a way to make it happen. Be with - a girl or something so you never have to get nervous. No, wait, I’ll do it myself. Just please, Billy, let me go.”

“Awww, you’re gonna leave me high and dry like that?” Stu asked, squatting down on the ground to be at eye level with you. He still had that obnoxious grin. “I’d never pass it on my own.”

“B-but,” You blubbered. Billy tightened up the wrist straps, then kicked over Stu who whined on the ground like a child. He took Stu’s place, looking into your eyes. There wasn’t even the slightest bit of affection in his.

“You’re going to be a good girl,” He said. “You’re going to go through with your project right here and right now, in front of me, instead of sneaking around behind my back. But after this, you’re going to remember that you’re mine. Or - I can let you go right now and you’ll never see my face again.”

That didn’t feel like a threat exactly. It felt like a break up. And even though you were scared, there was nothing more horrifying than the thought of him leaving you. Of going and actually being happy with Sidney. Going and living the white picket fence life with her when you would do ANYTHING for him, anything at all. You nodded. Against your better judgement. While restrained. With tears coming into your eyes.

The lights turned off. It made you yelp, surprising you. Then the flicker of a lighter and candles started to be lit. Stu was being a happy participant, even if he didn’t know what was really going on. The room was lit up by the light glow of the candles, creating a weird ambiance. This felt like something out of The Craft. If Billy practiced witchcraft, that was something new to you. But then again, this was Woodsboro. There was a murderer on the loose, anything could happen.

But you still had absolutely no idea what this had to do with Dracula.

“What do you want me to do?” You asked, trying to keep the sob out of your voice.

“You wanted to learn more about an impaler. That’s what you’re going to do,” Billy said, sounding as emotionally constipated as ever.

An Impaler. The impaler. You breathed in sharply through your nose and started to tug at your restraints a little more. Look for the stake. They were going to kill you, oh fuck, they were going to - Billy whispered something over to Stu, who looked at him with surprise, that grin slipping for a moment before it came back tenfold. He nodded, and - started to take off clothes. First came off that stupid robe and then his pants. His boxers slid down with them and he stepped in close to you. His cock was exactly like him. It bobbed in front of your face, causing you to draw back as much as your restraints would allow.

Impale.

He was going to get Stu to fuck you.

Oh shit. This was hardly how you expected things to go and yet - you were relieved. It wasn’t as bad aas you thought that it was going to be, even if it was a complete shock. You looked up at Stu who had that maniacal grin still on his face, then over to Billy who looked entirely serious. The contrast between them always stood out to you, but not as startlingly so until now. You slowly nodded. You didn’t want him to leave you. You loved him, even with his jealous ways. Even if some of your friends would call such a relationship toxic. Even with Sidney in the way.

That was all that the two boys needed.

Billy wrapped his hand around your throat, his thumb rubbing circles against your esophagus. It wasn’t the most pleasant feeling. He squeezed it, until you were struggling for air, all the while, Stu’s cock bounced up and down on top of your lips. It felt like he was teasing himself, or - being reluctant with Billy there. You started to see black spots appear around the corners of your vision, and finally attempted to turn your head out of Billy’s grip but with your arms and legs being restrained, it was impossible. He loosened a little, letting you breathe, and then tightened back up. It went on like this for another moment or so - tightening and then loosening, until you could feel your pulse inside of your own brain.

And then it was Stu’s turn. They were looking at each other with smirks as they took turns turning your lights off, so to speak. You were starting to wonder if they really were going to kill you. It was Billy’s hand again on you, while Stu started to pull your shirt up, exposing your stomach. His hands roamed over it. And then he departed for a second, only to come back with a pair of scissors. Your eyes went wide as he started to cut up your shirt. You wanted to protest but given the fact that you weren’t getting enough air to breathe, you didn’t have a choice but to accept it. A slap on your left breast, and then your right, as Stu was having fun with what he was seeing. “I can see why you’re always sneaking behind Sydney’s back,” He laughed, tweaking your nipple. “She’s got great tits.”

“Careful,” Billy warned, loosening his grip. “She’s still mine.”

It brought goosebumps on your exposed flesh to hear those words. And the way that he was talking. That they were both talking. Like you weren’t even there, or couldn’t listen. They weren’t talking to you, they were talking about you. Around you.

“I - I -” You tried to say, but then Stu interrupted whatever you were trying to attempt.

“Is your hand not big enough for her throat? I can still hear her man.”

“Shut her up with something else then,” Billy shrugged, letting go, making you cough as air tried to fill your lungs. You were blinking slowly, trying to get the dancing spots out of your vision. They were everywhere, like black dust. You didn’t have much time for relief though. Billy’s words had hardly gotten into your head, not with your brain feeling like it was thumping as a warning to get more oxygen. They turned you over, causing the restraints to twist and tighten, so painfully apparent. And then something long was shoved into your mouth, depriving you again.

You blinked, and felt some little hairs against your face. It was Stu then. Billy kept himself groomed. Your lips wrapped willingly around the shaft just to make it easier on yourself. The musty scent of a man filling your nostrils. The taste. The only man you had blown before was Billy and his taste was different. The whole thing was different. Stu was longer, reaching deeper into the back of your throat, fucking with your gag reflexes. You were choking on him. And it had an upward curve to it, like a banana. It made even coming close to swallowing it all down near impossible. Billy, on the other hand - well, you didn’t have a moment to think about Billy when Stu started to move his hips. A hand took hold of your hair, pulling it all behind you, keeping it out of your face while also gaining control of your motions. Pushing your head more and more until your nose was squished against a pelvis. “That’s it - give it to her,” Billy grunted. “Come on, take this shit.”

He let go of you and this time it was Stu’s hands that locked around your hair. For just a second, the dick fell out of your mouth, and for a reason that you could not explain to yourself, you hungrily went looking for it. “Christ,” Stu cursed, and put you back into his mouth. Your throat was making obscene noises as you took him down. Gagging. Air trying to come up. Saliva filling your mouth and coating him. “That’s good shit.”

“Yeah, man,” Billy said, sitting down at the end of the bed. “Fuck her throat. That’s what she’s been wanting after all.”

“You really think so?”

“Look how she’s gargling it down, I’d say so. Try to arch your back there, y/n, really make it sexy.”

You were laying on your stomach, barely able to raise your head. Stu was having to crouch low to fuck your throat in that position. But you tried. You tried to arch your back. Tried to make yourself pretty for Billy, even while you had his best friend’s cock halfway down to your stomach. “Push that ass up,” He commanded. So you tried. You dug your knees into the mattress to try to raise your ass, your waist just barely rising up from the sheets. You were rewarded for that with a couple of really hard smacks. Even with your pants and underwear still on, it stung. It was only going to get worse, you could feel that. So you tried to enjoy what you could. Enjoy the taste. Sucking dick was a turn on, weirdly enough. It was often your foreplay with Billy.

You gasped with every stinging slap. Sometimes the noise came out when Stu had pulled himself out, but sometimes it came out more as a strangled cry when he thrust back in. Then he took hold of your hair again. Pulling it. You thought it was going to come out, he had such a stronghold on it. Taking it since Stu kept neglecting it and then wrapped his hand around your throat again. He started to laugh. “Fuck man, I can feel your dick all the way down here.”

“Oh yeah? Let’s see if you can feel it in her stomach?” Stu laughed, sticking his tongue out and really pushed his pelvis forward.

“You think pretty highly of yourself,” Billy chuckled. You didn’t have a chance to get in on the joke. You could barely even hear them over you. Your ears were filled with blood as your throat was getting fucked over and over, thoroughly. This went on for another minute before Stu finally had enough of your mouth and pulled himself out. Your breath came out in a gasp, heavy and painful. Billy could be rough sometimes but it was nothing compared to what that was. Spit dribbled out of your mouth, down onto the bed, creating a large puddle. It was so thick, it didn’t sink in right away, just sat on the surface. And then you were turned around.

There was hardly a moment to feel relief at the restraints becoming untangled. Or even as Billy was undoing the ones on your ankles so you could move. You were still trying to get your breath back, get the tears out of your eyes. “You gonna be good?” Billy asked before he fully removed the restraint from your left ankle.

“Yes, sirs,” You nodded, finally being able to breathe through your nose, adjusting your jaw to try to get rid of the discomfort. Your pants were then cut off, the scissors gliding close to the seams up the sides, the metal against your skin. A fan was blowing around the room, and you just started feeling it now. Stu crawled over your body until he was between your legs and you saw how big he was, how crazy it was that that ... thing had fit down your throat as far as it did. Now it stood stark, reaching past his belly button, creating a shadow. He could be used as a sundial in a pinch.

“Go on,” Billy said, giving Stu further permission. “You were going to a report on impalement. So do a presentation.”

Your eyes shot wide open when that cock stabbed into you, filling you completely. No lubrication save for the leftover spit that had been dripping off of him. “Oh fuck, I think she liiiikkesss it,” Stu said, rotating his hips. Really playing with you. Your mouth gaped open once more, every thrust sending you reeling. And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, Stu was right - you were really enjoying it. You could feel him going in with less and less resistance from yourself. Your legs spread, he held your knees up with his palms, and kept on laughing and making crude comments until Billy finally had enough, reached over and slapped him upside of the head.

“Can’t say she’s not a team player. Play with your tits for us,” He commanded down at you. Your hands were freed, and you did what he asked you to do, pulling and grabbing at your nipples as your breasts swayed with each thrust. Any protests that you had came out as moans instead of groans. Especially when you settled into a nice groove between the thrusts, your own hips being pushed up and the sensitive feelings of your nipples being played with. He was really railing into you, but the thing about Stu is that he did a lot of teasing, not just with his mouth either. He pulled out and replaced himself with two fingers, pushing in and out quickly, a frantic pace but controlled. His thumb kept brushing against your clit, and then circling it until you felt that feeling start to overtake you.

“Oh shit dude, think she’s gonna?” Stu asked and Billy smirked, knowing your body well. Knowing your reactions. You were gaping like a fish out of water, the muscles in your thighs and inside of you contracting as that feeling, that pure white bliss, was coming in closer and closer. But then - a few seconds of emptiness. You whined as you felt it all come to an end. But then you were filled again. Stu sunk deeply into you and you moaned in relief.

What had started off as a confusing assault was turning into something so pleasurable. Your throat still hurt. Your fingers still played at your breasts, grabbing them, fingers sinking into flesh. You wanted their approval. You wanted Billy’s approval, no matter how cruel he could be.

Stu took hold of your hair, snatching it to pull your head up, bending you at the neck uncomfortably and plowing. “I’m - I’m -" You said, confirming what Stu was asking earlier. Your insides were clenching at him. Milking him. Trying to get ever last drop of pleasure out of the experience but Stu turned your head roughly and made you face Billy while he kept on thrusting.

“Don’t you dare,” Billy said, licking his lip. You groaned. “You’re such a slut, wanting to cum over Stu’s dick while I’m sitting right here. So fucking dirty.”

You really tried to keep it at bay, trying to listen to him. But it rushed over you anyway, that feeling that took your breath away. Stu kept hitting you juuuust right. His hand was back to circling your clit quickly, causing you to make quite a mess. Stu paused and then started to laugh. “She just fucking squirted man!”

“I see that,” Billy said, sneering at you. “Fucking knew she was just a whore.”

You never felt so dirty. So shamed. You wanted to hide, and wanted to cry and wanted to fight but you couldn’t. You were just a doll for them to maneuver, to use as they wished at this point. Stu pushed you off of him and then laid down on the bed, his legs in the mess that you had made. Billy was the one taking your hair this time, lifting you up and pushing you on top of his lanky friend. “Gonna make him do all the work? I didn’t know you were lazy too.”

You fell back on top of Stu, and though you felt defeated, though you felt disgraced, you moved so that you were straddling him and then lowered yourself down, putting him right back in. He had crazy stamina. You could have guessed by the way that he always had so much energy. You squatted right on top of that dick and lowered yourself down and then raised yourself up. He just felt so good. The way that his pelvis kept hitting right against your already battered and overly sensitive clit had you building up again. His hands went back around your throat, both of these men seemingly enjoying the feeling of it against their hands. You were bucking, your arms instinctively going behind your back, crossing there.

“Yeah, show him some respect. Good girl,” Billy said, sitting down right next to Stu’s body. Your eyes kept wandering over to him. To his handsome face, wondering how he was doing this, why he was doing this and even more - why you were seeming to enjoy it. You were bucking away, and Billy’s hand kept making contact with your ass, slapping it roughly. No doubt, you were going to have bruises when this was over with. But the sharp pains felt good in comparison to the pleasure that the second orgasm gave you, mixing together into a euphoric bliss that made you feel even dirtier than before. Stu wasn’t giving you a break. Nor, for that matter, was Billy, whose slaps became harder and harder, the sounds echoing through the room, mixing with your moans, mewls and whimpers. He took turns slapping both cheeks, and then squeezing, pinching. His own hand was rubbing down at his own cock, still hidden under the jeans that he was wearing.

Stu threw you off, surprising you. Your chest was heaving up and down as you looked at him, but even that moment of rest didn’t last long. He was all go-go-go. How could Tatum stand it - you were exhausted.

This time you were carried right off of the bed. Stu handled you like you were a ragdoll rather than a living being. No consideration as to what you might be feeling. While holding you, he raised his leg to kick some clothes off of a computer chair and got you situated on there. It was extremely uncomfortable but before you could complain, he was right back into you, pounding into you doggy style.  Your one leg fell onto the ground to support you but your other knee was being driven right into the uncomfortable leather of the seat. You grasped at the armrest, needing something to hold onto.

You could hardly see. Your eyes were watery. Your forehead was so sweaty. You still had globules of drool from when your mouth was wrapped around Stu’s cock. You must have been an absolute mess. But apparently, still decent enough for Billy to get hard. He stood on the other side of you, right in your face. So tall. His hands worked at his belt, unbuckling it slowly. And then the button of his jeans, the zipper, pulling them down to his ankles, tugging his briefs with them. The motion of the thrusts from behind had you moving forward, almost headbutting his waist, forcing your face directly against the hard dick that you had gotten to know over the last couple of months. “You hungry or what?” Billy asked. You nodded. You knew what was expected. And you had missed him. Being with Stu felt wrong without him being a part of it. Billy was the one that you loved and you were putting up with all of this to please him. To get called a good girl again. He pumped himself a couple of times with his hand as a tease, holding it just out of reach of your mouth. You tried to lunge forward to get it, to snatch it with your mouth but each and every time, he’d move it to the side. He laughed, like this was the most amusing game that he had ever played. “Look at her, look at her,” He said with a laugh.

“Come on man, you’re making her move away from me,” Stu whined.

“Shut the fuck up,” Billy shot back, reaching over your body and slapping him across the side of the head. “Just be lucky I’m letting her fuck you at all.”

“Yeah. You’re right. My bad,” Stu said, laughing like an idiot again. Did he ever stop smiling? You were watching all of this over your shoulder, neck bent at an uncomfortable angle. Billy took hold of your chin and moved your head right back to his pelvis.

“Go on,” He said, and so you did. You opened your mouth and welcomed him in. It was thicker, but all of the spit from earlier helped a lot. Your throat was already primed and lubricated for him. He groaned as he felt your cheeks hollow around him, as he pushed further to tease your gag reflex. “Deepthroat. Fucking work it. You wanted to get impaled. I’ll show you what it’s like to be impaled.”

“Fuckin’ spitroasted!” Stu said, giving Billy a high five over your back. You moaned, feeling so full on both ends. This was your first two on one experience. It was harder to concentrate on both than you thought it would be. To keep your tongue moving, to keep from gagging, all while being pushed back against Stu. You could swear he was reaching into your womb, he was going so hard, so deep.

“Why are you sucking like you think you have a fucking choice? Take it.” Billy scowled. You must have been lacking for a couple of seconds there so you tried to make up for it. Opened your mouth. Suppressed your gagging as much as you could. Felt his balls flinging against your chin.

“Ahh - yeah, yeah, almost there,” Stu said, his eyes rolling up into his head.

“Fuck, me too,” Billy admitted, though it had only been a couple of minutes for him. “She always forgets her birth control, don’t cum in her.”

“Shit, don’t be so fucking lazy,” Stu said, pulling out of you. Billy left your mouth and you fell onto the floor, your legs feeling like jelly. Your ass was so sore from all of the spanking, you flinched the moment that it touched the carpet on the ground. You leaned back against the seat of the chair, which wasn’t comfortable but at least it took a bit of the weight off.

Above you, both men stood. Both had their hands on their cocks. The first drops of warm liquid hit the left side of your face. “Open your fuckin mouth,” Billy said, jacking his cock in that direction. You did what you were told to do, sticking your tongue out, improvising what he might want. You had the right idea. Billy moaned at the sight and a glob of it fell right onto your tongue. “Yeah, keep it there. Taste it for me.”

Your eyes rolled over to Stu, just in time to get a load right below your eye. You managed to close it in time. You felt it dripping off of your cheek, down onto your shoulder. It was so damn warm. Or maybe your face was just burning up. After a couple more spurts over the bridge of your nose and then on your upper lip, it was finally over. Your humiliation. Your punishment. Your torment.

The boys were getting dressed again. Or rather, Stu was belting his robe up, not even bothering with pants or underwear. It was Billy that was getting dressed. They didn’t give you a towel or anything, just left you there on your knees, unable to see out of one eye. You wiped it with the back of your arm but that seemed to make it go everywhere. “Umm....” You stammered. “Is there anywhere I can clean myself up?”

“Bathroom down the hall,” Stu said, turning his computer chair around and sitting on it, doing a little spin. “Don’t get my mom’s towels dirty or she’ll have my fucking head.”

You nodded meekly. You tried not to drip, swallowing what was in your mouth and on your tongue, and cupping your hands under your chin to try to get the rest that would slide off. With unsteady legs, and without any help from either boy, you made your way to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind you. The shame that you felt. The shame at the fact that you had enjoyed it. You didn’t even want to look at yourself in the mirror. You turned on the taps and used warm water to wash your face. There wasn’t any face wash in here so you used hand soap which dried out your skin but at least it made you feel clean.

You sat on the toilet for a couple of minutes. Tried to clean yourself up down there. Urinated to avoid a UTI. Flush, back to the sink, try to clean yourself with soap and water. You thought about taking a shower. But the idea of being so vulnerable in there and being naked for any moment longer was daunting. Besides, his parents might come home and you still had to make it back across the hall unclothed. When you did what you could, you took a breath and then dashed down the hallway, flinging open the door, and then closing it behind you. Stu snickered in your direction.

“Where are my clothes?” You asked, trying to sound more stable than you really were. It made the boys exchange looks at each other and laugh.

“Ripped up,” Billy said. “As part of your lesson. Did you learn it?”

“Well,” You said, covering your breasts with one arm and your other hand was between your legs, trying to hide that as well. “I know now to make sure that I’m never paired up with Randy for anything - ever.”

“Ew dude, can you imagine?” Stu said, followed by - guess what? - a laugh. “Gross.”

“That would have had a very different outcome,” Billy said, throwing his shirt at you, since your own had been completely ruined. It laid in tatters on the ground. Nothing more than rags. Stu had started rolling up a joint, licking the paper closed and then handed it to Billy who lit it and took a large mouthful of the stuff. He handled it well, keeping it in without choking, only to approach you and to blow it slowly in your face. “Don’t do anything that means you’ll be spending any time alone with another guy.”

“Because you’ll get jealous?” You asked, pulling the shirt on over your head. Billy wasn’t a large guy so it didn’t cover too much, but at least you did feel less exposed.

“Don’t even bring up that fucking word,” He shook his head. He handed the joint behind him back to Stu, not even offering you any. “Since you are here though, and I’m here to ... chaperone, you can work on your little project. As long as you behave.”

“Okay,” You said, fairly meekly after sensing the threat in there. When he sat back down upon the bed, he pulled you into his lap, the shirt drooping in front of you to protect whatever modesty you had left.

--

Needless to say, you didn’t get the best grade ever on that assignment. Actually, with the principal being killed and school letting out for a couple of days to recuperate, it didn’t even show up on your final report card. Still, though, Billy and Stu were very eager to celebrate the points that you did rack up, and you partook happily enough. Even if it meant that you couldn’t ever look Tatum or Sydney in the eye again.

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