#hi this is the only thing i've writing until i get home from work today
Note
hiii!! can i suggest some hotch x bau!wife!reader where reader is pregnant and she doesnt know, but at work she goes on about how she doesnt know whats wrong with her lately and spencer suggests that she might be pregnant and then she find out that she is!!
I love your writing sm btw😚😚😚
i think i might finally have enough time to write whole blurbs again :'))
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"No flamin' hot for you today, Mrs. Hotchner?" Derek eyes your bag of plain cheetos where they lay open on your desk, and you grimace at his phrasing.
"God, no," You groan, "Don't make me sick."
"You love those things," His brows furrow, and he leans on the edge of your desk with one hand, his thick fingers splayed out over the wood, "I'm pretty sure your tongue is permanently stained red by now."
"I like them when I'm not in the middle of some weird stomach bug," You admit, "I woke up sick. I don't know what did it, but it was probably something Jack brought home."
Derek pointedly removes his hand from your desk, but he's kind enough not to tell you that he thinks you're contagious.
"Feel better, mama." He offers with something that you're sure is supposed to be a sympathetic smile, but looks a little more like a wince. Emily isn't so easily scared off, though, and she continues munching on the carrot sticks she'd brought for a snack.
"You look tired," She comments, and you almost want to take offense, "You were up all night with your stomach thing?"
"No, just when my alarm went off," You hum, swallowing a bite of your sandwich and trying not to heave at the texture, "It was nice enough to let me sleep, but-" Your sentence is cut off with a well-timed yawn, "I feel like I've been awake for days."
"Probably just your period," Penelope hums softly, trying and failing to keep your menstrual cycle a secret, which isn't surprising considering her track record with secrets. Everyone is kind enough to ignore the information she revealed, but when you shake your head and grumble, 'I'm late.', Spencer snaps to attention.
"You've missed a menstrual cycle, you're feeling extreme fatigue, and you're experiencing morning sickness?" Spencer verifies, and it's only with his discerning brain that you feel a weight sink in your stomach - preferably not your unborn baby.
"Oh my god," You breathe, your hand coming subconsciously up to your stomach, "Oh my- oh my god! Aaron, Aaron!"
Aaron rushes out of his office with the combined urgency of boss and husband, his eyes locking on you sharp with concern.
The air between you is thick as the members of your team grin up at Hotch, leaving you the silence to cheer, "I'm pregnant!"
His eyes are no longer viciously worried, their sharp edge melting into something far softer. His lips part, barely enough to let air through, until they crack and curve upwards in a dazzling smile that the bullpen doesn't often get to see.
"You took a test?" He confirms, but when you shake your head, he dims slightly.
"Reid said I am," You offer, and his zeal is back. You're sure he wishes he could wrap you up in a truly breathtaking embrace, complete with kiss far too passionate for your work environment, but you'll save it until you're at home, away from prying eyes and phone cameras. Regardless, you can feel his exhilaration from where you stand, and you're already planning out a nursery in your mind.
"He's probably more trustworthy than the plastic stick," Derek claps Reid on the back, and the doctor looks like the wind was knocked out of him. They're both smiling, though, and you feel JJ's hand on your shoulder, squeezing happily.
"Congratulations," Rossi pats Aaron on the shoulder, much gentler than Reid had been subjected to, "But a word of advice, Hotch? Don't have any more. If I have to split my inheritance another way, it won't be worth killing me over."
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner scenario#aaron hotchner oneshot#aaron hotchner one-shot#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotchner headcanons#aaron hotchner headcanon#aaron hotchner hc#aaron hotchner hcs#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner dialogue#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction
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the boy is mine (carol's edition)
you know i had to do it to 'em. if you'd like to take a crack at the 'the boy is mine' writing challenge, you can check it out here. you can also see the masterlist of everyone's works here.
a/n: for me, how eddie was fleshed out in FOI has always been how i see him. hurting, but goofy, but snarky, but sweet, but loving, but scared, but all that. eddie 'has taken care of himself since third grade' munson just makes sense to me. in this ficlet, our romantic night in gets muddled when eddie doesn't know how to just let someone love him right. i've also always have written eddie as older than he actually is, so here -- he's 25. argue with the wall.
tw: 18+, angst, hurt/comfort, some smutty references but no smut, references to smoking and drinking. some arguing but nothing crazy.
The day was hard on his shoulders and back, no one should be hunched over the hood of a car for this long -- and even being young isn't saving him from the grimace he makes every time he gets out of his bed with a decades old mattresss. Eddie cracks his neck each way while he chugs down the road leading to Forest Hills, slick and shiny with rain from the afternoon. The orangey yellow headlights on his beat up '71 Chevrolet bounce cheerily off the darkened asphalt, but the scrape, clatter, and growl of his engine and whatever else was a stark reminder that this van was on it's last leg. As bright as the headlights were, the gloomy purpled evening sky was a perfect match to his mood.
Today is Eddie Munson's birthday.
For the past few years, Eddie has spent his birthday working double shifts at the auto shop and then meeting the guys at the Hideout to get so drunk he can't see. Can't be sad about your birthday if you're too drunk to think about how your mama's dead and your dad won't call. Can't be sad about how you won't ever get to hear her sing you happy birthday, or put on a record, or dance with you in the living room. Or have your dad make dinner and put the six pack away if only for that night. To not run out on 'a job' or 'work a late shift' where he won't come back for days afterward.
He'd drink and drink until you had to hold him up to get him out of the bar, piling him into the back seat and having the guys follow you home to help load him into bed. He always looked forward to the greasy diner hangover breakfast in the morning where it could be just the two of you, and not his birthday, and not all the awful things he thinks he is.
The gravel groans and crunches when he pulls in at the side of the trailer he used to share with Wayne. With another roll of his head and shoulders he kills the ignition, hopping out of the van and leaning over to grab his bag. It's only when he slings it over his shoulder that he notices the warm glow of the kitchen light on, passing muted through the small curtains. He hip checks the door shut and makes his way up the steps that need repairing -- another thing to add to the list for 'Spring Cleaning' in a couple weeks that he knows he'll forget to do until you remind him or one of the boards rots out.
Eddie's ring tap against the metal handle and he braces for the screech of the door, only to be met with the cozy blend of garlic, onion, and rosemary hitting his nose first. He swallows while he kicks off his work boots, turning the corner to see you in the kitchenette, putting the lid back onto the one large pasta pot he has and turning the burner off.
"Oh!" you jump when you see him, shock turning into a smile, "You're earlier than I thought you'd be. Hold on!"
"What're y--"
He's interrupted by you hurrying into the fridge, glass clinking when you pull out a Mionetto bottle that was already opened to reveal the cork.
"Surprise!" you ring out, popping the bottle with a little flourish, "Happy birthday!"
He stands there, unsure at first what he's looking at, trying to take it all in. You in the kitchen with an apron on, the table set nice, a cake set on the counter to cool with a covered bowl of what looks like home made vanilla frosting next to it. To the side, a familiar small notebook lays opened to a buttercream recipe -- his mom's buttercream recipe, still scrawled in her loopy handwriting on yellowing pages with fading blue ink.
"Melvald's didn't have any like, nice cups," you say with a scrunch of your nose as you pour two glasses of prosecco into flimsy plastic flutes, "Is that okay?"
"Uh..." he snaps back to reality when you hand him the cup, "Y-yeah that's okay."
"Happy birthday, handsome," you smile, raising your drink before you take a sip, he follows suit.
"What is all this?" he asks, voice sounding like it's coming from someone else. Objectively, he should be falling to his knees right now, crying with adoration for you. Sobbing over the clear effort you've put in for a romantic night together at the trailer.
"Um," you suck in your lips quickly, and release them, eyes lowering to the scuffed linoleum, "I uh, I made braised short rib and mashed potatoes, some broccoli. Wayne told me that um, that your dad used to smoke them for your birthday but we don't have a smoker so..."
"Why?"
The swell in his heart builds from genuine affection to suspicious bitterness, this was way too much.
"Did you not check the calendar today or something? It's kind of a big day," you try to lighten the mood with a laugh, taking the apron off and hanging it on the hook by the hallway, "Sit, sit."
He follows your direction, sitting at the table where the place setting is the best it can be with what you have. You even folded up the paper towels nicely. He silently sips on the bubbles, uncomfortable on the makeshift throw pillow cushion on the chair, while you take the plate in front of him and begin serving.
"I should um," he starts, voice gravelly, "I should wash my hands and uh, and change or..."
"Yeah," you nod, voice higher pitched than expected, "Go, go ahead. It'll all be ready when you're done washing up."
He leaves the glass behind, thudding into the bedroom where he notices a Frederick's of Hollywood bag sitting at the end of the bed. A small pile of gifts in shiny blue paper lay stacked up pretty on his dresser -- a card front in center 'Eddie My Love' - you write it in the same way you sing it to him absentmindedly every now and again. Flipping the lyrics every time.
He swallows again, pulling in his cheeks and biting down while he peels off his coveralls and slips into what he was planning to wear to drinks later -- a band tee and some worn jeans. It feels cheap to wear this now, now that you've put in all this effort. Now that you're looking all sweet and put together in the kitchen for him. He rolls his shoulders again, trying to stretch the frustration out. He doesn't wanna be mad at you, you didn't do anything wrong. He doesn't wanan feel so sick in his chest over it -- but he does. All this work for what?
Eddie takes his rings off to wash his hands, using the same Dove bar soap to wash the remaining grime off his face from work. Big inhale, big exhale into the towel on the door before making it back to the kitchen where the dinette table was ready for dinner, two tapered candles lit in old holders on the side. He sits across from you, your eyes glittering in the light of the flame.
"You didn't have to do this," he says quietly. Your lips twitch into a half smile, head cocking slightly to the side.
"I know, but it's your day...it's a big one, too. The big two-five," your voice doing its best to soothe, "Can't just, I dunno -- get plastered at The Hideout every year..."
"Sure I can," he shrugs with a quirk of his brows, pushing the mashed potatoes around with his fork. He watches the melty pat of butter ooze off one of the edges like a volcano, pooling in next to the broccoli.
"And you like that? That's fun for you?" you chuckle before noticing he's just playing with his food, "You gonna eat?"
"Getting plastered at The Hideout is like, tradition," he mutters, looking at the clock over the cabinets, "And we're gonna be late meeting the guys."
"Ed..." you say, a vapor of disappointment floating through his name when you say it. He winces.
"Like I said, babe," he says, "You didn't have to do all this -- y'know, spend all this extra cash on dinner and --"
"I know I didn't have to, but I wanted to -- I wanted to do something nice so that your birthday could be sp -- "
"Okay, well I don't need my birthday to be special, it never is," he snaps, he doesn't mean to, "I didn't ask you to do this for me."
You hold your soft gaze at him, shoulders round down while you rest a cheek on your palm. If Eddie's mama was still alive, she'd tell you to get your elbows off the table.
In the flame, your glittering eyes turn glassy. You let a soft breath out through your nose, a sulk clear in your posture.
"You're right," you mumble, a soft squeak of a sound while you slowly stand, shaking your head, "You're right, you didn't ask. I shouldn't have assumed that you..."
You trail off while you flick the lights on in the kitchen, leaning forward to gently blow out the taper candles. Your hand swishes away the smoke and soot, pushing out out of the cracked kitchen window before the smoke detector catches it. The cabinets creak while you take out some Tupperware from the top shelves, the good stuff that the ladies in the park sold Wayne back in the 70s. They click and clack as the bowls and trays and their tops hit the formica counter top.
"Well--well, wait -- you don't have to pack it up, babe," he says, sitting up a little taller in the chair. When he hears the shudder in your breath he stands, "You don't have to put it away."
"No, it's fine," you assure, a small strain coming through from your chest, "It'll be like -- you'll be so excited when you get home and there's all this food. I just gotta call the guys and tell them to just go to the bar instead of coming here."
"Whaddayou mean, coming here?"
You turn around, eyes wet now but not crying, a tug on your brow and taughtness in your jaw from where you try to hold it back.
"It was supposed to be a surprise," you shrug, "But like, it's not important. Lemme just pack this up and I'll get it figured out."
"What's the surprise?" he asks, tilting his head to get a better look at you.
"Well I..." you let out another breath, lower lip wobbling; an action your stop with a sharp inhale through the nose.
"Well I thought it would be fun if the guys came over and did a birthday oneshot campaign with you. I helped Gare and Jeff write it and Jeff was gonna DM," you let out in one breath, "And it was gonna be like, a silly drinking game version."
"You were gonna play?" he asks meekly. You nod. You rarely play, always watch. Always make snacks or help him clean up the trailer, always order the pizza because Eddie forgets to. Always add extra mushrooms on one because Richie likes extra mushrooms. Always make sure to get one with white sauce cause red cause doesn't sit great with Dustin.
"Did a, um, did a character sheet and whatever," you say, defeated, while you open the utensil drawer to pull out an extra pair of tongs and a serving spoon, "Drew her -- it's in your card."
You start to pack up the food and the tears start up again, welling in your eyes but still not spilling over. Eddie steps forward, getting between you and the pots and pans on the stove.
"Hey, wait," his voice bare audible, "Babe, don't."
"It's okay," you sniffle, "I just have to call them."
"No -- baby, stop," there's an edge now, ring hand falling on your wrist, "Stop packing it up."
"It's fine--"
A waltz between you, him, and the tupperware on the counter.
"Don't make me..." he huffs, trying to maneuver the tongs out of your hand, "If you don't stop, we're gonna have a pr--"
"Ed, enough! We will go to the bar, it's fine," you urge, anxiety heightening in your chest where it bursts, you start to cry, "Please, let me put it away. It's fine. I just -- fuck --"
"I feel like such an asshole," you sigh, breaking. You relent, letting go of the tongs where he takes them and leaves them between the burners on the yellowed stove.
"Don't be like that, you're not," he soothes, closing in on you against the counters edge, "You're not, I'm sorry."
"I really just wanted your birthday to be special," you weakly murmur, wiping at your eyes.
"You know how I get," he says, rough hands coming up to cup your face where he leaves a soft kiss to your cheek, "M'just not great at bein' fussed over."
"You deserve to be fussed over, doofus," you garble out, his thumbs replacing your fingers to catch the tears as they fall.
"It's hard, babe," he nods, "You knows it's hard for me. Y'know with my mom's stuff gone and my dad being...who fuckin' -- who fuckin' knows. The Hideout just makes sense. That's y'know -- that's what I deserve."
"That's not even true," you shake your head, "Don't be stupid."
"Well, I barely graduated so," he offers you a peck to each salty, wet cheek, "Stupid's my middle name."
"Don't cry, sweetheart," he breathes, leaning in with a slow kiss. A kiss drenched in apologies and thank yous, breaks away just to kiss again. And again, and again, and again until you're both breathless under the sickly yellow green glow of the overhead kitchen light.
"How about I change into something nicer than this, and we'll pop these plates in the microwave and start over," he asks, a smile toying on his full lips, "'Kay?"
You nod back, getting another peck stolen from you, and following him down the hall.
"Oh, yes, yes, allow me to slip into something more..." he announces with flourish, posing half sexily half awkwardly in the doorway to his bedroom, "Uncomfortable."
You snort, giggling while you follow in after him, settling on the end of his bed, "You don't have to dress up fancy."
"'Course I do," he tsks, brows furrowing, "M'going to a five star restaurant doll, I can't look like a slob."
He pulls out a pair of slacks from a funeral he went to two years ago, discarding his jeans and sliding them up over his pale legs. To your dismay, he plucks the t-shirt with a screen print of a tux out of his closet, and exchanges the worn Dio tee with that. You'll always prefer the Dio tee.
"Classy," you tease. He winks, and that's enough to make you okay with the tux shirt. His fingers trail over the stack of presents and land on the envelope.
"Can I open the card?"
"Sure."
"Am I gonna cry over it?" he asks, looking at you over the dull paper when he flicks open the top.
You shake your head, "Nah, it's not sappy. You're the sappy card writer."
"I'm so sappy," he agrees, pulling out the card, "I gotta work on that, huh?"
"No, I like when you're sappy, ya sap."
You watch him read the card, blush evident in the warm wash of gold from his bedside lamp. You're not a sappy card writer, but you always know how to make him feel like a kid with a crush. When he opens up your character sheet his bottom lip tucks between his teeth.
"Shit," he grins, "Rogue tiefling, huh? You tryna kill me?"
"I thought it could be fun," you titter, standing up to look at the pages next to him, "Chaotic evil. Look at me."
"Ugh, baby's first villain," he gushes, "I love it."
"Look at the picture," you bounce on the balls of your feet while he goes to the next page. A much quieter 'shit' falls from his mouth. It was not a drawing that was for the rest of the guys to see, a sketch of a tiefling version of you in an outfit meant for his eyes only.
"So you are trying to kill me," he asks, fingers tracing the curve of 'your' hip on the page where the outfit digs into the fat of 'your' hips.
"No, that'll be later," you smirk.
"Hm?' his brows raise.
"What do you think is in the Frederick's bag?" you ask, faux innocence smattering into your tone.
"Ah, you put a little costume together for me?" Eddie's mouth waters at the thought, brain fuzzy as he looks at the picture and then at you.
"Something like that," you tease, making your way back out into the hallway.
"Something like that?!" he repeats back, hurrying back out to pull you into a searing kiss before you can make it back into the kitchen. The kind from the movies where he dips you down toward the faded carpet. As he pulls away, he nuzzles your nose against his, staring at you through lowered lids, "Thank you."
"You're very welcome," you nod, both of you making it back to full height, "Happy birthday."
You relight the candles on the table and nuke the plates of food, topping off each others plastic flutes with the left over Prosecco. There's three cases of beer in the fridge and you know Gareth is bringing Absinthe and it's something you pray doesn't mess your boyfriend up too much.
Dinner is the best meal Eddie's had in years, unable to keep his eyes off of you in between bites while you rehash your day and him, his. You're picking up the dishes off the table when the boys show up and they deliver. Taking the heat off you, they provide the snacks and even more extra booze. Jeff passes out party hats that make you all look ridiculous -- Eddie can remember laughing this much on his birthday, not even when he was a kid. Not even when his mama was alive.
After the oneshot completes and everyone is ankles deep in a tipsy haze and the smoke from a few joints lingers in the air, you walk in with the cake that is finally frosted -- the 2 and 5 confetti colored candles dancing in front of him while the rest sparkle in the middle of the coffee table. He makes one thousand wishes that he knows will come true because his friends are all still there with him and so are you. You're one room right over, cutting the cake and plating it up, and you'll be there when the boys leave in your skimpy nerdy costume that you bought just for him. And you'll be there while he sleeps and you'll be there when he wakes up. You'll be there across from him the next morning when he feeds you fries dipped in chocolate shake at the diner.
Today is Eddie Munson's birthday.
And his mother's buttercream frosting is the sweetest it's ever tasted.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fan fiction#eddie munson fanfiction#the boy is mine challenge#eddie munson x y/n
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Prioritise yourself (Thranduil x Reader)
author's note: happy easter to everyone who celebrates it and a happy weekend to all either way🪻this is honestly one of the most scary things i've posted because it's something so personal that i relate to a lot, but i thought maybe someone else might need it, too🥺 please always remember that nothing will ever be more important than your health and well-being 🩷
warnings: symptoms of burnout, lack of sleep, exhaustion, negative self-talk, skipping meals, mentions of food, nudity (for taking a bath together) - please please please let me know if I forgot something! 🩷
word count: 1.9k
edit is mine, all pics are from pinterest :)
It had seemed like a smart idea when you offered Thranduil to help him with all the paperwork.
His days were filled with meetings and more often than not he only returned to your chambers once it was dark already.
So, for the past few months, you had been - more or less secretly - helping him with whatever you could: sending out invitations to other royals, filing away documents, re-writing contracts so all that would be left to do was sign them.
You were the king's partner after all and you wanted to help him as much as possible. This was your kingdom, your home, as much as it was his, as he regularly reminded you.
Thranduil noticed, obviously. The hours in his study were reduced since most things were taken care of in a perfect way already - he could return to your private rooms right after dinner and spend time with you instead which the Elvenking appreciated immensely.
However, over the past few weeks, things have taken a turn. And Thranduil noticed that, too.
How, on some days, you would get up earlier than him, how you would skip lunch and dinner with him - although it was one of your favorite things since you got to spend it with one another during your otherwise busy schedules - and instead eat by yourself, hunched over some papers. He noticed your tired eyes and dull skin and- lack happiness, to cut it short.
Worry didn't even remotely describe what he was feeling. He felt sick to his stomach when he thought about you being unhappy.
Today was no different.
You had gotten up before sunrise, leaving your husband a little love letter, before entering your own study to take care of all official things.
There was a lot to do. Other elves as much as people from Laketown and even dwarves were sending letters, hoping to schedule a meeting with the king himself to talk over whatever was bothering them.
You made it your mission to answer every single one of them, noting down appointments and also sending out excuses if Thranduil wasn't the right one to talk to when it came to certain matters.
By the end of the day, your head was pounding. You let out a yawn and rubbed your eyes, hoping to relieve some of the pressure behind them, but to no use.
Closing them for only a minute wouldn't hurt. You could still look for your husband afterwards.
A line had been crossed for the Elvenking.
It was the second day in a row that you skipped your shared meals and from what he just learned, you weren't eating them at all.
He needed to talk to you. He wouldn’t - and couldn’t - let you destroy yourself over some work. Your happiness and well being came first and he would make you realise that, no matter the cost.
After reaching your study and receiving no answer to his knocks, he let himself in with determined steps, only to stop abruptly as soon as he saw your sleeping figure. His eyes softened immediately.
"Oh, meleth."
With two big steps, he was by your side, crouching down until he was on eye level with you. Even in your sleep, you looked stressed, your eyebrows scrunched up, reminding him of the times you woke up from a bad dream.
"What are you doing to yourself, hm?"
Gentle, as if you would break like glass if he touched you with too much force, he picked you up and carried you out of the room and into your shared bed chamber where he set you down on the soft mattress and covered you with a fluffy blanket.
Thranduil left the room again for only a few moments so he could blow out the candle in your study and put everything where it belonged. He himself hated to work at a messy desk and didn't want you to deal with the same thing once you would return to work, although he didn't want to think about that yet. For now, you needed rest and all the love and care you could get.
He returned to your bedroom after he spoke to some of his subordinates to let them know neither he nor you would be available in the next three days.
You were still fast asleep, curled up into the blanket. The king walked over to you and slowly began to remove all your uncomfortable clothing before he himself put on a night gown.
Only then did he lay down next to you, carefully maneuvering your body into his arms, your head on his chest. Even in your sleep you wrapped your arm around his waist and entangled your legs, letting out a small sigh.
"Sleep, meleth, you've been working too hard", your husband whispered and brought his delicate fingertips up to brush some hair out of your face before letting them trail down to your back, rubbing some calming circles into your shoulder. "I'll watch over you, I promise."
And Thranduil kept his word.
He stayed up to make sure you slept through the night, occasionally pressing a kiss to your temple or the top of your head while his fingers were always touching you in some way.
It was nearly lunch time when you woke up the next day.
After noticing you were still cuddled up with your husband although the sun was already shining into the room, you immediately sat up.
"I- I overslept, oh Varda, there is so much to do. Why didn’t you wake me, my love?"
With a gentle force, Thranduil pressed you back onto the mattress.
"You've been overworking yourself for weeks and your health and happiness are suffering in return. I told everyone we wouldn't be available for the next few days. For the foreseeable future, we'll only take care of you."
You didn't want to cry. And you tried really hard to keep the tears at bay, but when the Elvenking looked at you with so much love in his eyes, you couldn’t stop them.
"I'm sorry for failing you, my king."
The elf wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. "Oh meleth, no. No, you didn't fail me, you never have. And you never will."
"I can't even take care of myself", you hiccuped, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "It's like the work and the pressure never stop and I'll never be good enough and now I am sitting here, crying to you, a literal king who has way more responsibility than me. I am so sorry to burden you with this."
Thranduil's heart was breaking. He couldn't believe this was how you saw yourself when, to him, you were the most beautiful being in all of Middle Earth.
"You are never a burden to me. Do you hear me? Never. We can fix this. You have to learn how to prioritise yourself. I can teach you. I will teach you. And we will start right now. You must be hungry, what do you want to eat?"
You fumbled around with your hands before looking up at the Elvenking. "Could I have some pancakes?"
Thranduil leaned forward to press a kiss against your nose. "Whatever you want, meleth nîn."
With one swift motion, he got up, put on one of his majestic robes and made his way to the kitchen to order your beloved pancakes and some additional treats as well as some hot and cold beverages.
He returned to your chambers with a first tray of food, watching your face lit up with delight at the sweet smell.
"Here you go, my love. Eat as much as you want and take all the time you need. There are no other things that need to get done today or the next few days."
You nodded and grabbed a plate, happily munching on the food the servants were bringing in over time.
The king was watching you carefully while he himself ate something. It was more than obvious that all the food was good for your mind, body and soul.
You let yourself fall back against the sheets when you were done, letting out a satisfied sigh. "That was good."
"It is about to get better. What do you think of a bath?"
Your eyes lit up. "Right now?"
The elf couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. "Is that what you want?"
You sat up, enthusiastically bouncing on the mattress and nodding your head. "Yes, please!"
Thranduil stood up again and walked into the bathroom, filling the tub with hot water and your favourite bath salts and flower petals before coming back to you.
With ease, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the bed, carrying you into the bathroom.
"Arms up", he ordered gently and removed your clothing, doing the same to himself afterwards.
"You're so handsome", you breathed out as you softly pressed your hand against his chest, right above his heart. "I'm so lucky to have you."
Thranduil's heart started to beat faster under your touch and praise and you smiled, feeling butterflies in your stomach at the fact that you still had this effect on him.
He lifted you into the tub, setting you down and lowering himself behind you, pulling your body flush against his chest.
"I'm the lucky one."
You shook your head before letting it fall back against his shoulder. "You take care of me when I can't do it myself."
The king's deft fingers brushed through your hair, letting them trail down your arm. "We take care of each other. You are the one who decreased my work load so I'd have more time."
You intertwined your hands. "Well, of course. I want you to be well."
A kiss was pressed against the top of your head. "Do you see my point?"
You nodded. "I think I do."
Thranduil let his thumb brush over the back of your hand. "Tomorrow, we can take a walk in the garden and look at all the blossoming flowers. Or we can do whatever else will make you happy."
A smile graced your lips. "Just being with you makes me happy."
Gently, the ellon grabbed your chin and turned your head around so he could kiss you. You melted into his embrace, smiling against his lips.
"Gi melin", he whispered after you two had parted for air and you replied with the same sentiment.
Once you two had soaked in the water for a while, the Elvenking grabbed your shampoo and lathered up his hands before bringing them up to your scalp to work in the product.
The more time you spend like this with your husband - in your little bubble of happiness and safety - the lighter your heart felt.
And it only got better when Thranduil's hands wandered down your head to your neck and shoulders, massaging your tense muscles to help you relax even further.
You shuddered and the king grinned to himself. He was just as pleased as you were earlier that his touch could, still, make you weak in the knees.
"Rest, meleth", he whispered as he continued to work on your upper back. "There will be time to talk about long-term adjustments and solutions, but for now, you can let yourself fall. I'll be there to catch you."
Everything-Taglist: @shadowhuntyi @asgardianhobbit98 @fizzyxcustard
-> if you want to be added or removed from my taglist, just shoot me a message or an ask 🩷
#thranduil#thranduil x reader#thranduil x you#thranduil x y/n#thranduil imagine#elvenking#king of the woodland realm#the hobbit#the hobbit imagine#tolkien#elves#mirkwood#reader insert#please don't hate me for writing him ooc#and for making grammar and spelling mistakes#god why am i so nervous to post this#i'll probably throw my phone away after clicking post now
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Dreamless sleep
I mentioned in a reblog a few days ago that I sometimes write little oneshots about Henry to comfort myself when shit situations happen. Well I left work today and my car wouldn't start and... I've been struggling with remembering something really difficult that happened to me and I needed a comfort fic. This is that.... I don't normally post them but I wanted to share this one.
Warnings: Mentions of SA possible trigger.
summary: waking up from a nightmare and having a rough day. Henry is always there to help.
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I watched the door shake. The man on the other side determined to break in. If he got through, he was going to hurt me again. Not that he would ever admit it. My attacker had spent just moments before trying to convince me I had asked for it. Like what he did to me was nothing more than him fulfilling my desires. Bile rose in the back of my throat from the thought.
“Go away, Luke! I told you I won’t say anything to anyone! Just leave me alone!” But he didn’t stop. I watched the door knob turn as I looked around my childhood bedroom searching for something to barricade the door. Trying to find anything to keep him out. My strength would not hold much longer. One more shove and he would be inside. I wouldn’t be able to escape him. Just like the last time. As I’m reaching for a chair to press against the door, I stumble. I fall to the floor and the door swings open…
I woke with a start shooting straight up gasping for breath. My heart was racing and I let out a whimper as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I flinched as I felt a gentle hand touch my hip.
“Darling it’s me, it’s okay.” Henry’s soothing voice broke through my panic. It was a dream. Only, a dream. I swallowed hard and looked out the window. It was storming, the sky was still gray, I looked over at the clock 6:25 my alarm was about to go off,
“Sorry, go back to sleep baby, it was just a bad dream. I’m okay.” I assured him. Henry sat up. He wrapped his arms around me from behind and placed a soft kiss on my head.
“You’re sure? He asked, “Do you want to talk about it?” I shook my head. I hadn’t told him about what happened to me. And as far as I was concerned he didn’t need to know. It was in the past. I was fine. It was rare that I had these dreams.
“No bear, It was silly, just go back to sleep, I need to get up and get ready,” I told him. He took in a deep breath. He still held me close for a moment before hesitantly letting go of my waist.
“Alright, love,” When I got out of bed I turned and kissed him softly. He looked so tired. He’d gotten back so late from set. I hate that I’d woken him up.
“I’ll see you later,” I smiled. He sat up giving me another kiss.
“Have a good day baby,” He said. I slipped out of my bedroom and took a quick shower. I quickly got dressed for the office and left. I picked up a coffee on the way to work. I splashed some on my shirt leaving a small stain. It wasn’t completely obvious but I knew it was there. This would happen today I hate Mondays. Things were in full swing, actually, busy. When I got there. I sat down and tried to focus on my work. But I couldn’t get anything done. All I could think about was that dream.
Lunch rolled around and I realized I’d left it at home. I didn’t want to bother Henry. He hadn’t had a day to himself in a while. So I was just going to pick something up. I ran to the little convenience store down the road and got a little snack. It was much but it would hold me over until the end of the day.
The rest of the day was so busy. So many emails and the work just kept piling up. It was non-stop. I was so ready to get back to my place and spend the evening with Henry. I walked out to my car and put the key in the ignition and… it didn’t start. I tried it again… nothing. How could this happen? It ran perfectly fine on lunch. God, I was just tired and hungry and I want to get home! I’ve spent the whole day reminded of this terrible thing I’d gone through, and now this? Today sucked! I sighed and pulled out my phone. I was going to have to call Henry. I tapped his name and the phone rang. After the second ring, he picked up.
“Hey, babe, you on you’re way back?” He asked. I sighed again.
“No,” I said flatly. “My car won’t start I don’t know what’s wrong, the engine won’t even try to turn over.” I rambled. I could hear myself starting to hyperventilate.
“Slow down, breathe. I’ll be right there.” He promised. In 10 minutes he was pulling up next to my car. We tried to jump it but that did nothing. I sighed and slammed the door. “Whoa, hey, it’s gonna be alright we’ll get it fixed, love,” Henry said grabbing my shoulders gently and making me face him. I felt my lip start to wobble. I didn’t want him to see me cry. In all honesty, we hadn’t been together that long. He hadn’t seen me break down and I wasn’t ready for him to. What if I was too much? What if he didn’t want me anymore?
“I-i’m sorry, today has just been… stressful. I was looking forward to getting home and spending time with you.” I said.
“And you’re going to, we’ll leave the car here I’ll have it looked at in the morning. Let's get back and relax my love.” Henry drove us home. I shuffled inside, quickly changing into comfy clothes. After spending a while trying to fix the car it had gotten a bit late so we decided to order in. Henry ordered dinner while I got cozy on the couch. We ate our Chinese takeout and binged a new Netflix series. My mind wandered not fully paying attention. Getting lost in the dream from this morning. I was staring blankly at a spot on the wall, I didn’t hear Henry say my name. He shook my shoulder and I yelped. His brow raised and his eyes filled with concern, and something that almost looked like hurt.
“What’s going on with you today love?” He asked. I snapped.
“What do you mean? Nothings going on everythings fine!” I said. He sat back looking at me from a sideways glance.
“You’ve been on edge all day,” He stated.
“You haven’t even been with me all day,” I rolled my eyes.
“Is something bothering you?” He asked. I groaned.
“Fucking hell, would you just drop it Henry? I told you, I’m fine!” I shouted. Henry ran a hand through his hair and groaned in frustration.
“I’m just trying to help,” He sighed.
“Yeah, well I didn’t ask, I’m not some helpless damsel you need to save!” I argued.
“I never said that!” he groaned. “But you’ve been stressed since you woke up this Morning.” He stated.
“So?” I deflected, clearly agitated.
So… who’s Luke?” He asked his voice calm. My stomach dropped. How did he know that name?
“I don’t know what your talking about…” I said shifting my eyes to the floor.
“Alayna, when you were having your nightmare, you… said his name, asking him to stop. Who is he?” He asked again. I swallowed hard. I kept my eyes on the floor hidingn the tears that had started to well up.
“No one, must’ve just been a name my brain came up with.” I lied.
“Come on,” he pleaded. “I know you don’t think I’m that stupid.” He said. I looked up at him, eyes meeting his. He was hurt. Hurt that I was shutting him out.
“I don’t think you’re stupid at all, I just… don’t want you to think I … to think less of me.” I sniffled. Henry brushed my hair out of my face and brushed his thumb across my cheek.
“Talk to me, I want to understand.” He said. “Whatever is, I just want to help you,” he stated. I nodded.
“He… is…was a friend of my brothers.” I started. “They were friends since they were kids, I new him since I was a baby.” I explained. Henry nodded. Keeping his hand on my back silently supporting me. I went on. “I thought I could trust him. I was so naive. He always seemed like a good guy. He came to town to celebrate my brothers birthday. And they came back drunk. He woke me up. Because he wanted to say hi. I got up to talk with them and when we went back to bed he… got into my bed. I thought he was joking at first. I thought he was gonna leave.” I looked at Henry. His face was calm, but I knew that he knew what I was going to say. I didn’t miss the anger in his eyes. But he stayed quiet. Letting me get it all out. “He was like a brother to me. I-I don’t know how he could touch me like that. But… I couldn’t do anything. It was wrong, it was so wrong but I was like frozen with fear or shock I don’t know. I know that I told him no. Once. something he wanted to do … I finally was able to find my voice but. It didn’t matter. The next morning he acted like nothing happened. I never said anything. I never pressed charges…nothing. It was years ago. In my dream I confronted him. He told me I couldn’t prove it. He wouldn’t own up to it. I yelled at him. And he tried to convince me I wanted it.. And he…he tried to come after me again.” I cried. Henry quickly wrapped me up in his arms pulling me into him. “That’s when I woke up.” I said. I cried against Henry’s shoulder while he held me. He gently cooed in my ear as if consoling a baby. But it helped. It was the comfort I needed. The shoulder to cry on I never really had. He was quiet for a while. Letting me have this moment and then.
“You know, none of that, is your fault.” He said. His voice soft.
“But I.. let him.” I said. His jaw ticked. Trying to remain calm for me.
“No, he may not have been violent or mean or angry. But he still forced you. He was bigger than you. You had no choice. But to let him do what he wanted. I can’t imagine the pain you’ve felt carrying this for so long. But I won’t let you do it alone anymore.” He said.
“You don’t have to,” I sniffed.
“The bastard is lucky he’s still breathing. He may not live anywhere near you but if he ever comes within a mile of you he’s a dead man.” He growled.
“I’m sorry, about…” I started staring at the ground.
“Look at me,” He cupped my face pulling my eyes back to his. “ I don’t care about some little argument. Or a stressful evening. I care about your wellbeing, your safety, and your peace of mind. There may not be much we can do about what happened. But I can help you feel safer, I can help you feel protected. That’s what matters. Let me care for you. Don’t be too proud to let me help you.” he pleaded. I nodded. I was exhausted. Today had been so hard. I didn’t have the energy to be guarded anymore.
“Okay,” I said.
“You need rest love, you look exhausted.” He said softly. I nodded laying my head against his shoulder. Henry carried me to bed and I immediately curled myself around him. He smiled softly.
“As long as I breathe. He will never, get to you,” He said softly. I nodded my breathing slowly as I listened to his heart beat. Henry softly stroked my hair and I felt my eyes lids get heavy.
“Get some sleep darling, I’ll be right here,” he promised. My eyes closed and everything faded to black. And for the first time in a long time. I had a dreamless sleep. I was safe. Now. Truly safe. I didn’t have to fight this alone.
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I don't feel like this is my best work but it is honest... I'm gonna add my taglist here but you so don't have to read it! if you do thank you! It's just away of me getting all my emotions out. Y'all are like my online emotional support group <3
@foxyjwls007
@enchantedbytomandhenry
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#henry cavill#fanfic writing#fanfiction#henry cavil x reader#captain syverson#henry cavill fanfic#henry cavill fanfiction#henry cavill characters#sa tw#sa mention#comfort#comfort fic#comfort character#comfort person#august walker
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I just found your blog today can you please explain or point out a post that explains the MASH timeloop thing? I love the show but I've never heard anyone talk abt it that way before
oh yay hurray ive been waiting for an excuse to talk about this lmao sorry this is long
ok so basically maeve (my gf) and i started watching mash for the first time about a month ago and we started joking about it being like the characters were stuck in a time loop mostly because the same basic episode format is repeated over and over, because it's a sitcom from the 70s and the episodes arent meant to be watched en masse where you can start noticing all the little repetitions and plot holes and inconsistencies that naturally occur in longform tv
but then i started to pay attention to the dates being mentioned in the show - famously the korean war never technically ended, but american troops were involved in active on the ground fighting between 1950 and 1953, so the entire 11 seasons of mash have to be squeezed into that three year period. with 251 episodes occurring within 1,129 days, that gives every episode about 4.5 days of real time. so it works right? no time loop right? well wait a sec
for the first 5 seasons or so of mash they give very consistent dates about when things are happening. for example, bj arrives in korea in september of 1952, at the start of season 4. colonel potter arrives about a week after him, and talks about how he has 18 months left before his retirement. that gives us about 7 months for the shows final 7 seasons to take place in, meaning that by the episode 'point of view' in season 7 we should be around december of 1952. in that episode the pov character starts writing a letter home and in the corner he writes the date:
september of 1951. ok, could be that this episode isn't meant to take place in the regular timeline of the season - maybe for some reason its just like, a random flashback episode. but bj, charles, and potter are all present, even though none of them got to korea until 1952. now i KNOW that this is not like, the True Hidden Secret Lore of MASH, this is the writers realizing they were running out of road and turning back the clock a bit to accommodate for how long the show was running on. but play in my time loop space with me please
more talking points:
consistent jokes about time zones and how difficult it is to call the states because "our today is their yesterday but if you call them now it might not reach them until our tomorrow and by that point our yesterday will be their today"
hawkeye's increasing mania over the seasons and his conviction that the war will never end, comparing the camp to dante's inferno multiple times. maeve once pointed out that the closer hawkeye comes to realizing that he's trapped in a time loop the closer he gets to being institutionalized - and what does the series finale cold open onto ? hawkeye in a mental institution. the only way out is to lose yourself etc. sidenote frank also escaped the time loop by going insane and getting institutionalized
in a war for all seasons bj potter and charles are all present at the 1951 new years party as well as the 1952 new years party
there are three christmas episodes, two of which bj is present for even though he should only have spent one christmas in korea
details of people's families and lives shift around - sometimes potter's got multiple grandchildren, sometimes he only has one, sometimes its a girl, sometimes its a boy, sometimes she's 5, sometimes he's 2
we're not the first people to talk about this either, here's a good video compilation posted a couple yrs ago of time loop moments
overall ive been using the time loop thesis to add another layer to my mash viewing experience. it increases the already present sense of constant dread, anger, frustration, and disgust with their situation that the characters feel, plus it feels like a very poignant take on the united states' constant warmongering and violent existence. it really never ends, it just goes on an on. the future's been canceled by the war department- we're just gonna replay the past.
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Hi i don't know, if your requests are still open, if not you can ignore it or do it whenever you want.
Just readed your prompt, when reader suddenly passes out with Vil, Jamil, Floyd and Rook. I was wondering, if you could write something similar for Malleus, Lilia and maybe the teachers Trein and Crewel?
(I'm happy you enjoyed those! And I hope you like these too!)
Part One Part Three
CW:Burnout (obviously), mental breakdown/trauma in Trein's part, spoilers for Vargas training camp in Trein's part, injury in Crewel's part
A/N: I've said this in my pin post, but I age up characters to actual college age, because I am in college, and didn't realize until a few months in the characters were not. Everyone here is. 18+ If it makes you feel more comfortable, imagine this as a grad school situation.
He's been pouting a lot lately. Which for a normal person wouldn't be a problem, but Mal's pouting usually meant that the weather was bad as well. He was pouty, because whenever you had time in your incredibly busy schedule to see him, you still had to be working on your homework. With everything Crowley had you do for the school, you had to share your "dragon time" with your "homework time". But your boyfriend looked very cute pouty, so part of you wasn't too upset about it.
Until the day you were so busy with something that you hadn't eaten or slept in over 24 hours and just…collapsed during dragon/homework time.
Malleus immediately panics. He assumes you have had a heart attack and died (Mal…college students are unlikely to have heart attacks) Once he finds a pulse, and sees your breathing, he scoops you up and teleports to Lilia faster than he has ever teleported.
He's sobbing as he answers Lilia's questions, not entirely certain that this wasn't something he did. Lilia easily is able to figure out what has happened, and goes to make you some soup for when you wake up. Malleus is too relieved to think about the fact that while Lilia's soup will have loads of protein, it might send you into shock. In the meantime, he puts a cool cloth on your forehead, and caresses your cheek.
After you wake up and barely survive the soup Malleus spoon feeds you he tucks you into his massive comfy bed (you can't tell me he doesn't have the fluffiest comforters) and then…vanishes.
From here on out, everytime you get a task from Crowley, it's already finished by the time you get around to it. It's weird, but it means you have time to keep homework separate from "dragon time". Which makes a certain fae very happy.
Lilia has spent years learning how to care for humans, especially since most of them *cough* Silver *cough cough* Y/N are not good at caring for themselves. While his recipes are terrible, he is right in some ways about making sure to get all your nutrients. While it can feel a little patronizing sometimes, he is right that you need sleep. While he is a little unorthodox in how he has fun, he's right that you need to have leisure time and do things you enjoy.
What you don't know is that behind the scenes Lilia has already been having regular arguments with a certain Crow about your workload. When two fae fight, it's never good, but you don't have to worry about what's going on.
Azul and the tweels get called back home out of nowhere, and now you're in charge of all the paperwork that he is usually in charge of handling, both for the lounge and for the other Housewarden's. Lilia sees less and less of his sweet human, and he's suspicious part of it is because you are avoiding him, knowing full well he would make you take a break.
He has to admit, your avoiding skills are actually pretty good. So he's not actually there when you collapse. And he's furious. Especially when he finds out that Crowley also decided to add his own paperwork to your ever growing pile. He only knows you collapsed when he hears some randos gossiping about how "the prefect collapsed running laps today, and the idiot duo had to walk them to the infirmary." He's immediately flying to the infirmary, powered by his pure rage.
He knows it's not your fault, especially since you have nothing to your name in this world, so it's easy to manipulate you into this position. So he does his best not to take his anger out on you as he watches you sip apple juice that the nurse gave you, while you do your best to keep your eyes open. Once he is certain that the nurse has things under control, he kisses your forehead, and asks you if you want him to bring you anything.
While he's out getting you a treat, he makes a stop at a certain Crow's office. From here on out you don't see a lot of him. You are a little worried that Lilia may have killed him, but everytime you ask him, he giggles and messes up your hair, before telling you how silly that is.
He's harder on you than he is on most of his students, partially so that no one can claim favoritism, partially because you are just so far behind in history (having it not be your history) that he has to give you extra work and lessons to catch you up. But as a trade off, he tries to be a step ahead of Crowley whenever he can. There's little that happens in the school that he's unaware of, so he's usually able to protect you from his foolish boss.
Until you get sent to the training camp with the sports clubs to assist Vargas. He's furious about this last minute decision, that Crowley conveniently forgot to tell him about, and he's even more angry when he later finds out that you were "kidnapped" and then immediately had to fight a creature in the mines.
Naturally, your mental health is not so great after the trip. He's starting to see it on your face when you both hang out, and even if he didn't, your work for his class is deteriorating, if you even turn it in at all.
Then you break down one day when he asks you about it. He can't understand a word you're saying as you sob and yell and shake. But he's pretty sure he has the idea. You've been pushed too far. He sends Lucius to fetch a nurse or counselor , or heck he's sure even Sam would have something to help you relax enough to just breathe. In the meantime, he wraps his arms around you and tries to walk you through breathing exercises, while whispering some praises to you that you can't comprehend in this state, but appreciate all the same.
After someone gives you a potion that helps you relax a little, he leaves you to rest on his office couch with Lucius in charge, and he holds a meeting with the rest of that staff about what's not appropriate to put people through. (Essentially it's Crewel and Trein yelling at Vargas and Crowley about trauma and what their job is supposed to be)
This never happens again. You continue to have extra work from Trein, but he always ensures he makes time to help you, or give you a soothing tea if he thinks you're starting to drop back into the bad mental state. If you do, he holds you close, and says nothing, while allowing you to spill whatever is plaguing you.
Prior to him dating you, you had denied his request many times to financially sponsor you. Now that you were together, it was harder to come up with an excuse for him not to. So he'd purchased Ramshackle and renovated it. He'd taken up the expenses for your schooling and food (after much argument he'd also taken up Grim's) and after several discussions about the future of your relationship, he'd begun helping you through the process of becoming a citizen in a world that had no proof of your existence (a pain and a half, but there was nothing he wouldn't do for his beloved pup). In doing all this, he'd made it very clear to the Headmage that he had no hold over you, and therefore couldn't coerce you into anything.
Divus knew he was a fool for leaving you alone for a week. He had assumed that Crowley had nothing on you anymore, and that he could go help a smaller fashion designer that showed a lot of promise get their career off the ground. At first he was only going to be gone for a week, but it quickly turned into two, then three. He should have recognized the tension in your voice when you'd asked him over the phone when he thought he'd be back.
When he finally returned, he thought he'd surprise you by showing up where he knew you'd be hanging out with your friends. He'd bought a ring for you that he was particularly pleased with, and he wanted you to have it as soon as possible. His plan was dashed as he watched you collapse into Howl, who immediately started to panic.
With a clear voice Divus took over the scene, picking you up and carrying you to his office where he had all manner of potions. As he pressed one to your lips, he noticed a cast on your arm. He'd ask about it later.
When you woke up, you wrapped your arms around him, and whispered how much you missed him. He asked what happened, and you tell him how you broke your arm in yet another overblot incudent, and had been working like crazy for Crowley to pay off the medical expenses.
You've never been scared of your lover. But his eyes were practically glowing with rage, and now you were starting to wonder if you should be scared. Divus does not accept cruelty to animals or humans. And, he keeps his receipts. It's not long before there's a pretty hefty case and Dire is removed as headmage for coercion and endangerment. After that, there aren't any more overblot incidents and the students seem more mentally healthy. How about that?
He decides to wait to give you the ring until you're fully recovered after everything. But he's certain when he asks you the question that comes with it, you'll have an answer he likes. Especially when you nuzzle into him so sweetly while you nap in his office.
....
Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#malleus x reader#malleus draconia#twst malleus#malleus draconia x reader#malleus#twst lilia#lilia vanrouge x reader#lilia x reader#lilia vanrouge#mozus trein x reader#trein x reader#mozus trein#twst trein#professor trein#twst mozus trein
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Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x afab!reader (established relationship)
Warnings: 18+, smut without plot, handjob, blowjob/face fucking, facial, cum eating, praise, slight degrading if you squint, a dab of female masturbation
Summary: There is no better way for Miguel to distract himself from a horrible workday then with a little assistance from you.
A/N: First time ever writing smut, so I apologize if it's horrible and it's the least sexiest thing on earth!
Word Count: 2.8K (barely edited)
The multiverse is a place that needs constant attention. It never resets, never takes a break. And for Miguel, it means the same thing. He needs to work tirelessly on it. It’s a very real possibility that if he looks away for even a few seconds, it could come crashing down with no way to restore it. In mere seconds, a world could be erased as if it never existed. Millions of lives can be lost. The people he loves and dedicates his life to protecting can slip through his fingers. He knows from experience, and he never wants a fresh reminder. He doesn't want anyone else to know how that feels.
So, it isn't uncommon for him to stay in his office, studying fluorescent yellow screens while the world is asleep. He spends more time in his office than he does anywhere else. So much so that it's more of a home than his actual home is. It's a sad thought, but he doesn't particularly mind it. He has Lyla to keep him busy and he gets the occasional visits from Peter B. and Jessica, paired by random drop-ins from other Spiders for missions. But, today's events have his face in a deeper scowl than usual. His brows creasing his skin in leftover annoyance and his eyes glaring at the information before him.
An anomaly had caused more trouble than predicted, causing great casualties and a mess of reports to read through. Every little thing seemed to make his jaw grind too. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the fact that he had been running for more than 12 hours without a proper meal, but he was snapping and growling at anyone who looked at him for too long or caused even the slightest inconvenience. Even Lyla stopped her usual teasing in favor of not being put on “Do Not Disturb” until further notice.
Of course, news of his erratic behavior had reached your ears almost instantly. You had been in your own dimension for the past few days, being unneeded for any missions and using the time to take care of any trouble in your world. This also meant you and Miguel had little to no contact for those few days. But even so, you knew exactly where to find the hunkering man at such a late hour.
You open a portal and step through, tilting your head up to stare at the floating platform. You keep your movements minimal to reduce the amount of noise as you sling yourself up, landing with a soft thud that doesn't catch Miguel’s attention. You walk gently up to him and keep your movements slow to not startle him when your hands softly land on his shoulders. Your palms make quick work to ease the knots in his shoulders as you lean down and kiss the side of his neck.
Before you even speak, hell before you even touched him, Miguel knew it was you. It was almost impossible to keep your presence hidden from him. He had perfectly memorized the way your steps sound. On any surface. He knows the way your feet drag slightly when you walk on carpet and the rhythmic pattern of your feet on hardwood flooring as you purposely walk from plank to plank. He especially knows that when you step with your right foot, the sound is lighter than the ones from your left as you walk along the metal platform of his office. And even if he didn't recognize you from your steps, your wonderfully sweet smell filled his nose the second you stepped through the portal.
"Hey, Migs. I've missed you," You whisper in his ear as you take in the smell of him. It’s one of your favorite smells in the whole world, and it drives you crazy that the only source of it you have while you’re away is one of his old college shirts that has started to smell more like you than of him.
You didn't wait for him to respond as you wrapped your arms around his upper chest from behind, earning a small nip from Miguel’s fangs to your wrist as a greeting. You giggled and moved around to sit on his lap, being sure to not obscure his view of the monitors. Miguel wraps his arms around you lazily before looking down at you with tired eyes, "What are you doing here? It's late. You should be in bed."
You tilt your head and raise a brow, "Oh, yeah? You're one to talk. After the day I heard you had, you should be the one at home sleeping right now. The multiverse knows you need it." Miguel can't fight the small smirk that forms on his face from your sass. God, he really did miss you while you were gone.
"The multiverse is inanimate. It can't form any independent or coherent thoughts and conclusions," Miguel teases back as he buries his head into the crook of your neck, it's his turn to consume your scent. It helps his sore and stiff muscles relax and he almost purrs at the comfort it provides his overused mind. You reach a hand up and massage the back of his head, earning a pleased sigh from the man. He pulls away slightly and looks back up at you, "But, seriously, why aren't you at home?"
You roll your eyes at his nerdy, know-it-all response before pecking his lips. You can't help it when he has that tired, pouty look on his face. It's adorable. "I'm here to convince you to take a break. Go to bed. We can go home and rest for a few hours."
The offer is incredibly appealing. He almost agrees immediately, the words on the tip of his tongue. But then he becomes aware of the yellow lights glowing on your skin and his eyes focus back on the screens before him. He had so much work left to do. Reports that still need to be read through, data that needs to be sorted, calculations that need to be made, earths that need to be scanned for irregular activity. The list is endless, infinite. He can't afford to rest. Even if it's what he so desperately needs and wants at that very moment.
Before he has the chance to tell you no, you press your lips to his. It's slow and it tries to make up for the time you've been away, but it quickly speeds up and turns into something more hungry as you reposition yourself so that you're straddling his lap. Miguel hums and grabs onto your hips, giving it a tight squeeze. Your hands get lost in his hair and you move from his mouth, to his jaw, and down to his neck. You kiss and suck and nibble at the skin, mumbling against him, "Take a break, Miguel. Let me give your brain a moment to relax."
A soft groan parts from his lips as your suggestive words float into his ears and down to his cock. It strains against the material of his suit, wanting to be freed from its confines. He gently grasps you by the back of your neck and pulls you face to face with him. He stares at you with red, lust filled eyes as he nips at your lower lip before smashing your lips back to his. Another heated kiss is his sign of agreement as his hands roam around your body. He grabs at what he can as he travels his hands up and into your hair, tugging slightly to earn that small moan that he knows you’ll give him.
In seconds, his suit is deactivated. It disappears entirely and you gasp as you feel his hardness press up against you. You pull away from him to catch your breath as your hand reaches out to stroke him. A sharp hiss leaves his lips as your soft hands play with his balls before your thumb comes up to rub at his tip in slow circles. His hands leave your hair to grip onto your waist, squeezing the skin through your suit as he looks down to watch you play with his dick. The sight makes him thrust his hips up into your hands and you squeeze him a little more tightly.
"Ay coño, your hand is so soft," Miguel murmurs as your hand pumps him a few times. You practically beam at his praise before you give him one last, sharp jerk.
He furrows his brows as you stop, about to open his mouth in protest before you stand up and remove your suit. It falls to the ground, forming soft padding on the hard floor before you sink to your knees before him. Quickly, Miguel spreads his legs apart so you can fit yourself between them as his hand reaches down to caress your cheek, "You look so pretty like this, on your knees for me."
You can't help the pleased sigh that leaves your lips before you press a gentle kiss to his tip. It's swollen and red, begging for attention as precum dribbles from his slit. Your mouth practically waters as you kitten lick him, earning a deep groan from Miguel. He watches attentively as you happily let his taste bloom across your tongue. It's a bit salty, but completely masculine. Completely Miguel. You run your tongue down his entire length a few times, each time stopping to suck his tip gently before continuing down and back up. You only stop when Miguel tugs sharply on your hair.
"Stop teasing, Y/N," He growls at you as he lifts your face away. You actually whimper as distance is put between your mouth and his cock. The sound only fuels Miguel’s ego, knowing how needy you are to taste him. To please him.
He guides your mouth back over him, watching as you open your mouth to take him. You hum when he lowers your face and he enters your mouth. He reaches the back of your throat, and you hold yourself there to get used to the feeling. After a few seconds, you bob your head back up, only to take him to the back of your throat again. Miguel moans and holds your hair tighter, and it encourages you to continue. He grits his teeth and lets you have control for a few minutes as you speed up.
But your control soon comes to an end as Miguel's other hand comes to cradle your head. You look up at him to find him staring at you with the same heated lust in his eyes. A low rumble vibrates from his throat when your eyes meet his. He can't help but think how pretty you are with your shiny eyes looking up at him through soft lashes and your skin all flushed from his attention. "Keep looking at me, don't look away."
He starts off slow, pushing your head down and guiding it back up. He takes his time with your mouth, jaw grinding at the warmth that surrounds his cock. He watches as he disappears into your mouth, only to be revealed again with your saliva coating him. The sight makes him feral, and he speeds up without warning. You gag as he rapidly moves your head and you bring your hands up to grip his thighs for support. Your eyes are hooded as you look up at him, moaning around his length at his roughness. You’re sure that you're forming a puddle of arousal underneath you. The scent of it is thick in the air, it smells so heavily of the both of you. It's almost dizzying.
For Miguel, it's worse with his enhanced senses. It's making it hard for him to control himself. Being able to smell your slick so heavily, knowing it's because it turns you on that he's using your mouth to get off. There isn't anything better than being completely consumed by you, by your touch, your mouth, your scent. It makes him snap. He holds your face in place, deciding it better to fuck himself into your face. He repositions his hands, getting a better grip on your hair as he thrusts into your mouth. You gag repeatedly and each time he thrusts out, saliva trails after him and runs down your chin. It's messy and primal. And you can't help yourself from trailing your hands down your body, nudging your panties over to play with your clit.
The movement instantly catches Miguel’s attention and he groans. He wishes he had a better view. His position on the chair, combined with his dick in your mouth, obscures the view of your pretty pussy. But he can still see the small movements of your body, the way your shoulder moves and the roll of your hips causes the fabric of your suit to shuffle. He almost pulls out to see more, but when your body jolts with a whine from the contact on your clit, he knows that this time he’d be satisfied with listening. You can give him a clearer view later.
“What a dirty girl. You like this so much, don’t you? You like me fucking your pretty little mouth? It makes you so desperate to touch yourself, right? Poor little Y/N,” he coos teasingly at you as he thrusts harder. Your throat contracts with more gags and it makes his eyes roll back and he leans his head back slightly. It feels amazing and he’s sure that he could spend the rest of his night thrusting into your mouth.
You feel wet and sticky, everywhere. Your chin and neck are covered in globs of spit and tears fall from your eyes. They run down your face, getting caught in your lashes and mixing with the saliva on your chin. Your body has built up a thin shine of sweat and it both cools you down and heats your skin. Your pussy is completely drenched and you can feel your arousal slide down your thighs, if it isn’t rolling down your thigh then it's on your fingers and being massaged into your throbbing bud. The constant stimulation and the pure pleasure you get from Miguel using your mouth meets in a warm ball in your lower stomach. Each thrust and circle threatens that ball to burst, and you moan to let Miguel know.
But he can already tell, even if he can't feel it physically. It's in the way your eyes are fighting to stay open and the slight twitch your body has. He knows you’re close. And he is too. His body is tightening and his thrusts are more sloppy and rushed as he lets out a series of curses and grunts. He’s trying to keep it together, but it's so hard when your desperate noises travel along his dick with such intensity. It only takes a few more thrusts until his cock twitches out of your mouth and he moans out a swear as his hot cum releases onto your face. His body shakes slightly and his breathing is irregular as he looks down at you, and the sight makes him harden again.
The thick, white fluid runs down your face slowly, some of it collecting in your mouth with your eyes closed. Your body is shaking too, and Miguel realizes you finished too. Your hand is still lazily rubbing circles on your clit, but it slows into a stop as you open your eyes again. You flutter your lashes up at him and Miguel gives you a slow smile. You return it as one of your hands reaches up and pushes some of his cum into your mouth. His eyes instantly darken as you swallow with a hum. Delicious. “Don’t want to be wasteful, right?” You giggle, resting your cheek against one of his thighs and his hand rises to stroke your hair.
He chuckles back and shakes his head, reaching over to grab napkins from his desk. He gently wipes his release off your face, letting you suck on his fingers when his cum clings to them. He throws the soiled napkins in a nearby trash can before pulling you up and onto his lap. He nuzzles his head into your shoulder, sprinkling it with slight kisses, “Thank you for the distraction, mi vida.”
Your smile widens as you kiss the top of his head, “Was it good enough to convince you to come home with me to take a bath and sleep?” The hope is clear in your voice, but so is the understanding if he decides to refuse. But Miguel nods against your shoulder and releases you when you move to get up.
You kiss his hand as you pull him up, stepping over your dirtied suit as Miguel’s reappears. He picks it up for you, holding it to his nose for a second and then letting his hand drop back down at his side when you hit his arm in embarrassment. He can only chuckle at you before activating a portal back to your place. Then, he turns back to you with a coy smile as he remembers an earlier thought, “I believe you owe me a show, anyways.”
Miguel did end up getting a clearer view that night, along with his much needed distraction.
So sorry for any mistakes with the spanish. I know next to nothing about the language so I’m limiting the amount I use it heavily. But I hope you enjoyed it!
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara smut#marvel smut#atsv miguel#across the spiderverse#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel ohara fanfiction#miguel ohara x you#spiderman 2099#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099 smut#spiderman 2099 x you#spiderman 2099 spiderverse#miguel ohara x reader smut#across the spiderverse smut#atsv smut
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Rough Night
George Weasley x reader
Requested by @iwontdance-dontaskme
Request gist: George x reader with rough sex and sweet aftercare
A/N: Thank you for the request. I write these beforehand so I'm going to apologise now just in case the fanfic wasn't as good as hoped to be. I decided to go for the cliche ‘bad day at work, release anger through sex’ trope.
T/W: Choking, thigh spanking, unprotected sex, dumbification, a bit of dirty talk, crying during sex (from sex)
1K words
George’s job was stressful. Who knew working in your own joke shop could be so gruelling? From kids with grabby hands wanting everything bright and colourful to the odd sneak thief who would decide that puking pastilles weren't worth paying for, the job could take a toll on anyone.
Today was no different.
Fred was out on a family emergency, leaving George to run the shop by himself. The few employees were no help, seeing it as an easy summer job before Hogwarts reopened its gates. When George finally shut the shop for the night, he was fed up and stressed. But he had the perfect thing to relieve that.
____________________________________________
You were asleep on the bed when George got home. His trudging footsteps just barely break through your sleep hazed mind. When you peek a sleepy eye open to look at him, you aren't met with his regular smile. You’re met with furrowed brows and dark eyes.
You sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes, barely able to get a word in before George climbed onto the bed and took his place between your legs. He grabbed the band of your underwear and yanked them down, paying no mind to the sound of ripping fabric. He placed his thumb on your clit and circled it slowly and methodically.
“I've been thinking ‘bout you all day, love. Thinking ‘bout that pretty pussy and how good it feels to be buried deep inside”
His voice was deep and calm despite the stress filled storm that plagued his mind. His other hand trailed up your body until he met your neck. His fingers wrapped around your throat. He didn't squeeze, his hand just stayed there. He leaned his face closer, keeping his hand on the delicate skin of your neck.
“Tell me that you need me too, little love”
When your mouth opened to reply, his thumb slipped down, teasing around your entrance. The answer you had died on your tongue, your only thoughts being replaced by a need to feel him. He smirked when you didn't answer fast enough and pulled his hand away entirely. His smirk only grew when he heard your voice.
“I need you, George. Please?”
He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, knowing that your eyes were following his hands like a dog eyeing a treat. You were nearly whining at him to hurry by the time he reached the last button. He knew that as soon as he had unzipped his trousers, you were as needy as he was. His hands reached into his boxers, pulling out his already hard cock. His ego only grew when he saw your eyes follow it, your mouth open in awe.
His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you closer to him. His cock nudging against your already wet folds. He positioned his tip at your entrance before thrusting his hips forward, sheathing his cock deep inside you. The sudden stretch had you moaning and writhing, grabbing at his arms to steady yourself. His hips didn't falter, his thrusts steady. Your eyes rolled back from his demanding pace. With every thrust, the tip of his cock pummelled that spongy button deep inside of you that made stars appear in your eyes.
The constant assault on your sweet spot had tears collecting on your lashes, something that George picked up on. His voice as cocky as the smirk he wore.
“Look at you, crying for my cock. You act all innocent but you become such a dumb little slut when I get my cock inside you”
His hand moved back up to your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze despite his rough pace.
“You like it when I fuck you dumb? All you can do is cry and take it”.
His other hand came down to land a slap on the meat of your thigh, your whining only fuelling his ever growing desire. One slap after another was delivered to your thigh. Your moans got louder and more consistent, and George knew what to do.
He circled your clit with his thumb, knowing just how to bring you over the edge.
“I know, baby. You wanna cum, don't you? Maybe you should ask nicely”
George smirked, knowing that the only thing that would come out of your mouth would be moans and whines. You always got like this when he fucked you. He just chuckled at the state you were in, the blissed out look on your face, and the high pitched whines that left your throat.
“Don’t worry, love, cum for me. Show me just how good it feels”
That's all it took for you to leap over the edge. Your walls clenched around his cock, your squeals of pleasure met his ears. He fucked you through your orgasm, making sure that you rode it out to the fullest.
George's orgasm was catching up to him. After a few more thrusts, he was cumming deep inside of you, painting your walls. As you both caught your breaths, he took a moment to admire you like this. Your eyes glossy, your cheeks red, that light sheen of sweat covering you, and that heavenly scent of sex.
His perfect stress reliever.
George slowly pulls out of you and gently shushes the whimper that leaves your lips. He gets one of the tissues from the nightstand and wipes away any cum that spills out of your pussy before discarding it. He finds one of his old T-shirts in the drawer and slips it over your head, helping you in your fucked out state to put your arms in the holes.
After sliding a new pair of underwear up your legs, he gets into bed next to you. George’s hands find their way to your waist, holding you against him where you belonged. He hums softly, the melody filling the room and giving your sleep driven mind something to focus on. With his hand running through your hair, his voice was soft and comforting.
“You did so well for me, baby. Always so perfect. That's why you’re my sweet little love”.
Who knew such a bad day could lead to such tender words?
#george weasley#george weasley fic#george weasley x fem#george weasley x y/n#george weasley x you#george wealsey x reader#george weasley smut#george weasley headcanon
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Pleasure Me | Lee Sangyeon
SUMMARY: ever since your boyfriend was featured in the latest issue of Men's Health, you have had a serious "problem" that you were sure that nobody was to ever find out about, that is, until you were caught red-handed by your very own boyfriend, Sangyeon.
PAIRING: model bf! Sangyeon x f!reader
GENRE: smut (18+ MDNI!!)
WARNINGS: kissing, making out, masturbation (f!reader), fingering (f!reader receiving), cum tasting (f!reader), oral (f!reader receiving), face riding
WORD COUNT: 1,564
A/N: behold my debut fic on my nsfw blog! 🤓 let's just say i've been super duper horny lately and i may or may not be on a writing spree for sexy sangyeon (pls just accept it lmao) shoutout to my loveliest @juyeonszn for reading it through i love you my bubba 😘❤️
It has been a week since your boyfriend’s nude shots were published in the media and magazines.
Your boyfriend, Sangyeon, has been working in the model industry for over five years, but only a month ago, he received an offer from one of Korea’s top fitness magazines, Men’s Health, for a photo shoot and an interview. At first, you didn’t think much of it since you’ve always known how passionate Sangyeon has been about his health and working out.
Never in a million years would you have thought that he would have to strip and be featured on the cover of the magazine's fall issue.
Sangyeon knew from the beginning how awkward the entire situation would be, and as your boyfriend, he had to consult you first and foremost to see if both of you were on the same page. As much as it somewhat bugged you at first, you reluctantly told him that it was part of his job and he should treat it as an opportunity instead.
It took some time to convince your boyfriend since he placed you first in everything that he did, but eventually, he took on the offer and was finally featured in the recent issue.
Which was when your so-called “problem” began.
You were too shy to admit nor did you want your boyfriend to ever find out about it. If he did, you would definitely throw yourself off a cliff, saying goodbye to this cruel world you live in.
You began masturbating every two days, if not almost every night. You would hide in your bedroom, especially when Sangyeon wasn’t back home from his job, and you would pleasure yourself by touching your body. You would slowly massage your breasts, and the other hand would slide down into your undies to rub your wet core. Sometimes, you would even insert one or two fingers into your entrance, and you’d envision Sangyeon pleasuring you instead.
You knew this whole thing felt so wrong, yet you could never bring yourself to tell your boyfriend about this “problem”. Hence, you decided to keep this little dirty secret to yourself.
It was a late Friday night. Sangyeon had texted you in the morning that he would be coming home late tonight as he had to meet up with some of the staff for his next photo shoot to discuss plans for the upcoming feature magazine. He texted you his usual “goodnight message”, and you did the same.
Mentally, you were doing somersaults in your brain because you had been feeling rather horny today, especially when you accidentally came across a rather sexy novel at your favourite bookstore when you had to run some errands for your company this afternoon. It was just like the idiom you learned in middle school, of how curiosity can kill the cat. And that was exactly what happened tonight.
Once you get home from work in the evening hours, you take a quick shower and have a rather simple dinner that you just easily heat in the microwave before getting yourself all cozy in your bed to read the sexy novella that you have just purchased this afternoon. To set up the mood, you even turned on your fairy lights and lit some aromatic scented candles before lying comfortably to read.
Just as you expected, the book's contents were rather spicy, and the next thing you knew, you found yourself touching your body again. Slowly, your hands slide back into your underwear, and you rub your dripping wet core. This time, you closed your eyes and tried your best to place yourself into the story's main character, attempting to envision the hot hunky male character fingering you.
But instead, that male lead eventually shifted into the vision of your boyfriend. And you eventually find yourself moaning his name.
“Oh my god… S-sangyeon… It feels so good…”
You wanted more, and god you didn’t want him to stop.
“M-more… more… aaahh—”
“Baby, what are you doing?”
That deep voice immediately had you shooting up from your bed, and you immediately turned your head in the direction of the voice.
Oh, hell no.
Why is he back? He was not supposed to be home at least till after 12am!
Not wanting to see or hear more from him, you immediately dived into your bedsheets, muffling a “goodnight, I’m asleep!”, hoping to turn him away. You swear you felt your face burning up so quickly, and your heartbeat was getting way out of control.
It didn’t take long for him to pull back the bedsheets to reveal him staring at your face.
“No no, please go away, Sangyeon! I’m about to sleep!” You protested, hoping he would leave you alone and pretend nothing had happened.
Knowing your boyfriend, though, he is not the type to let things off, especially when it intrigues him.
“I had no idea you sounded so sexy moaning my name aloud like that.” You already could hear his smirking through his voice, and you slowly opened one of your eyes to look at him. Sure enough, he was turned on and placed his hands on your thighs, gently rubbing them while inching his face closer to you.
“Hey, you know you could’ve just told me you wanted me.” He was now pecking you all over your face.
“B-but… aren’t you ashamed.. of this habit of mine?” You asked weakly, and honestly, expecting a negative answer from him.
But he reassures you instead. “Oh baby, if you were not turned on by that cover magazine that I did, then I’m afraid that what I’ve shown isn’t enough to pleasure you.”
This time, he gently lifts and positions you so that you are seated on the bed, facing the full-length mirror you have in your bedroom. He then slowly climbs into bed and sits behind you, his hands roaming your body. Gently, he leans down to your ears and gives you a whisper.
“I want you to look at yourself in the mirror. And whatever happens, don’t stop looking.”
Before you could even ask what was happening, one of his hands immediately travelled down to your underwear and began rubbing your core. Dear God, this time it is happening in real-time, it is your boyfriend’s actual hands that were pleasuring your entrance, one that you have fantasised about for long enough.
“Aww, you’re already so wet for me. Aren’t you a dirty little one?” He teased, before sliding his hands into your underwear to rub while putting some slight pressure on your entrance. Immediately, the moans he had longed to hear filled the entire room, practically music to his ears.
He then used his other free hand to grab hold of your chin to turn your head back towards him as he crashes his lips onto yours, turning the kiss into a rather steamy and messy one. You both would break off in between to grasp for some air, then reconnect your lips again, turning this into a repeated cycle.
“God—Sangyeon—please—”
“Use your words, baby. Tell me what you exactly want.”
“Your fingers… inside me… now…”
That was all he needed to hear before pushing two fingers into you, earning a sweet and pleasurable moan from you. He almost immediately picked up his pace, thrusting in and out rather quickly, which made you beg for more.
“Faster.. Faster!”
It took almost less than a minute before you came all over his fingers, and he took them out and placed them into your mouth, wanting you to savour your cum. As your breathing stabilised, he immediately commanded that you turn around and position yourself against the headrest of your bed. You were stunned, to say the least, so he had to physically help you again by placing both your hands on the headrest while he got himself comfortably under you, directly under your clit.
“Since you wanted me to pleasure you so badly, I’ll be nice and offer you once more.”
Without another word, his hands resting on both sides of your hips immediately dragged you down, and he began kissing and sucking your core rather hungrily. If you thought your moans were loud and messy enough during the first phase, you were so wrong. This felt so much better, and you wished nothing more but to stay like this for a while.
Sangyeon took his time exploring every crook and cranny of your core, ensuring he was taking in all of the sweetness while his top priority was to pleasure you well. Oh, you would definitely rate both his glorious hands and tongue a grade A+ for sure.
Your continuous moans and whimpers turned him on even more, and he began sucking a little harder while picking up his pace again. He knew you were about to reach your high and couldn’t wait for it to come.
“Oh my god, more! Sangyeon! Don’t stop!”
Eventually, you also find yourself rocking your hips onto his face, both now desperately trying to make your cum come faster as possible.
“I-I’m cumming!”
A few seconds later, you released your sweet love juice all over Sangyeon while trying to calm yourself down. It took a while for him to savour all of it before he eventually got himself up and positioned you so that you were now straddling his lap.
“I guess you are now ready for the next round.”
A/N: if you thought the self-insertion was strong then yes it is (i practically wrote this for me 🤡)
masterlist
taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet (join my perm taglist here!)
#deoboyznet#k-vanity#k-labels#kflixnet#the boyz#tbz#the boyz x reader#the boyz imagines#the boyz scenarios#the boyz fanfic#tbz scenarios#lee sangyeon#lee sangyeon x reader#lee sangyeon x smut#sangyeon smut#the boyz smut#tbz smut#sangyeon imagines#sangyeon scenarios
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Covet: Chapter 11 (Part 2 of 3)
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; EMDR (VIVID intro to revisiting traumatic situations); crying + feelings of sadness; heart issues (POTs); use of heart monitors; dangerously high heart rate; implied abusive situations; derogatory verbiage from past abuser; implied drug use; very unsanitary living conditions; visits to safe place; usage of containment strategy * * * revisited, vivid memories of sexual encounters; body changes as a result of pregnancy; talks of baby + pregnancy; pregnancy hormones (+ continuing to act on them ;)); reader and jake continue to be STUBBORN; cheating; heavy petting; forgetfulness (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)
Chapter 11 (Part 2) Word Count: 23.9k+
a/n: i broke my promise, i know. :( i feel absolutely fucking terrible that i made you all wait, but life happens. :'( i wish this story was my main priority/job, but alas...that dream is not a reality. i need you all to know: when i say i'm going to do something, i fully intend on it, but...life (and crippling adhd + anxiety).
i am so incredibly sorry, my lovely readers. :(
also, life update to blame (only if you care to read). BUT, on top of trying to get my house completely cleaned/shit thrown away, i officially had to empty out my classroom (see also: due to toxic work enviro, i had to leave the career i've wanted to live out since i was six y/o). so, i'm currently in the process of completely shifting careers (going from one emotionally taxing career to another, but that is apparently the type of job my heart desires lol).
as always, big thank you to @joshym for being the best sister there ever was and supporting me in my writings + pursuits <3 i love you to the ends of the earth, lis. you're my person. <3
Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤 (fr, i listen to it nonstop when i write this.... all of the songs are pertinent to the story and aid in telling it - either already or eventually.)
Covet Masterlist
-🌼🌼🌼-
"I covet truth; beauty is unripe childhood's cheat; I leave it behind with the games of youth."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
-🌼🌼🌼-
Monday
December 12, 2022
“So, any news on the baby since I last saw you?” Gia started, a sure smile on her face that helped ease you. “You had your second appointment on Thursday, right?”
“No,” you shook your head. “Dr. Rose wanted to just wait until closer to Week 18 so we could find out the gender at one session rather than having to wait between week 16 and week 18. Knock everything out at once,” you explained, clearing your throat. Looking around the office, you admired the pieces of floral art littering the walls, as you always did. “We’re going this Friday now.”
“And you’re okay with that?” Gia asked, raising a brow. She was rolling to her desk, getting the (seemingly) last thing she needed for your session today and placing it in her lap. “Not stressed about putting it off?”
“No, actually. I’m not stressed at all,” you acknowledged, sticking your lip out in thought. You hadn’t even thought to be stressed yet. Progress? Sure seemed like it. “It’s strange; the longer time passes, the bigger I get. . . The worries just aren’t as prevalent. It’s like I can feel that the baby is okay.”
“Not strange at all, babe,” Gia reassured with a shake of her head. Her platinum blonde hair was wavy today, framing her angular face perfectly. “Completely normal for new mothers to sort of get used to the pregnancy enough to feel at peace, per se. And I am so proud of you for getting to that point.”
“Well thanks,” you grinned crookedly, trying your best to settle into the worn, camel-colored leather of her sofa. “Can’t say the same for today’s session though. . . I am nervous about it.”
Gia waved it away, showing you a look of ease on her stark features. “No need. You’re the one in control, girly,” she winked, placing both white-sneakered feet on the ground.
She reached in her desk drawer for the little pouch, the familiar one that you knew held the device you’d be using today. A sudden wave of nerves began to crash over you as she unzipped it, revealing it and the paddles that would be the catalyst in placing your brain. . .elsewhere— somewhere.
Somewhere bad? Good? In-between?
“Here’s the plan,” she started, wheeling her chair closer to the couch, where you were trying your damnedest to sit comfortably. “We’ll start with your safe place to give you some sense of peace and stability — gotta make sure it’s still fresh and open in your mind.”
You watched as she turned the knob of the device, the little green light beginning to blink to notate that it’s on. “Then,” she continued, situating the device to look it over before her green eyes settled back on you. “Once you feel comfortable, I’ll tell you to begin walking away. Whatever direction you’d like to go, it’s completely up to you.”
Gia held the paddles out in front of you, and with clammy, shaky palms, you tentatively took hold of them. One in each hand, just like last time.
You couldn’t stop worrying about where you’d end up, where you’d walk away to. Walking away from your beautiful field, from Jake. . . What if you couldn’t do it?
“Will I. . .,” you cleared your throat, nervous. “If where I go is too hard, do I just—,” you panicked, unable to properly finish your sentence due to an onslaught of nerves. “What will I do?”
You were fumbling with your words and clarity, before she interjected, knowing just where your mind was going. “I’ll simply tell you to walk back to your safe place. I’ll be talking you through it, I’ll be right here the whole time — just gotta keep your ears open for me,” she winked, clicking open her iPad and testing her Apple pencil on the screen, readying to take notes.
“And, if at any point I see your body language change to indicate any distress, I’ll guide you back to your safe place, okay?” She soothingly told you the words, her full pink lips widening to a sweet smile, clicking her pencil into its spot at the top of her iPad case. “Remember, my specialized area is EMDR. I’ve done it multiple times before this – successfully. I plan to complete this successfully with you, too, y/n.”
When you gave her a small, timid smile, she took that as an indicator to continue on with her little speech. The tiny faux grin on your otherwise concerned face was the most emotion you could muster in that moment.
“It will hurt from time to time. I can’t take that away. It will be harder than most other things you’ve ever had to do.” She paused, her own brows curving to show care for your rigid state. Gia reached forward to unwrap your hands from the paddles gently. Once she had a hold on your hands, she rubbed the backs of them reassuringly, her thumbs so soft with their intricate patterns. You looked down to study the patterns, working to focus on something else and rid yourself of the nerves.
“Y/n.” She stated your name, making you look up at her. Her seafoam-colored eyes grabbed yours. “Before we begin. . . I want to make sure – once more – that you are sure about this . . . that you want to continue. We’ve talked about it a lot, but I want you to be sure. There are other routes of therapy. . .”
“No,” you replied, completely sure of your decision. “No. I want to do this. I promise I haven’t changed my mind. I don’t want to change my mind,” you rushed out, desperate for her to understand you. “I’m just–just scared. Is that not okay?”
You didn’t mean to sound defensive, but your biting tone contradicted that. The nerves were wracking you, from the inside out.
Luckily, Gia seemed unphased, keeping with her featherlight touch to the backs of your hands. “It absolutely is okay to be scared,” she confirmed, tone firm and soft all at once. “But, I need you to keep in mind: you are in charge this time. You have the power. We will approach these places in the now – you are in the driver’s seat of conquering these past battles. We’re in this together, love – and we will make it out stronger and better than before we started.”
Her voice assured you, of course. But the fear was still ever-present.
Sure, you did have control. But what if you couldn’t control where you went?
Where would you go? That was what scared you most. Your mind was bound to let loose. It was one telling part of this sort of therapy. You didn’t really know what had been hiding deep in the drawers of the credenza in your mind. . .
Hence you being here.
You just knew, whatever it was lying beneath the surface — you knew it was. . . a lot.
Then, as if she could hear the additional fearful thoughts swimming in your brain, she grasped your hands tighter in hers, moving to rub her thumbs over the tops of your knuckles. “You’ll be just fine. We’ve got a solid plan, babe. I just need you to trust me, and I need you to trust yourself. If you need to walk away, tell me and we’ll do it. That is in our power – your power.” Her pristinely white, pearly teeth were on display as she looked deep into your worried eyes. “We can do this, okay?”
We. I’m not alone.
You’d never had a single doubt about Gia. Of course you trusted her. But. . .maybe the true problem was trusting yourself. . . Over the past several months, you were finding that to be a bit more difficult.
But, Gia was right. You had to put some trust in yourself to know when you needed to step away. You could do it. You had to.
And knowing that she had a plan and had done it so many times before. . . Those were relieving thoughts, to say the very least. She knew what she was doing, and she knew what was best for you.
I can do this, you recited to yourself. I can. . .
You sighed, out of both relief and persistent worry. “I trust you,” you told her, another somewhat forced smile following your words. “And I’ll learn to trust myself. . . I’ll try my best,” you grinned sheepishly. “We’ve got this.”
“Good deal,” she responded with a far more sincere smile than you could offer. “There’s just one more thing we need to do before we get started.”
She clicked her iPad closed, wheeling back toward her desk, reaching down in the same drawer she pulled the device from. Only this time, she pulled out a large legal style, white notepad, and a large box of Crayola markers. Lastly, she grabbed a flawlessly sharpened pencil from the ceramic baby blue jar, covered in white roses, next to her keyboard.
What could she be up to? You wondered, eyebrows drawn together.
“I need you to describe something for me, something visual to lock any horrible memory away in.” She took a sip of her tea, which sat atop her desk, before she stood up from her chair. She came to sit directly next to you on her couch. The smell of eucalyptus that swirled off of her, from her perfume, was soothing. “You need to give it lots of detail, make it unique. I’ll even draw it for you,” she held up the notepad, pointing to it with a gentle smile. “Seeing it visually will help you when it’s time to lock the memories away mentally. Some people want a box, a filing cabinet, a treasure chest,” she laughed, and you giggled at that one, too. Jake would love that one. Buried treasure, like his pirate documentaries. . . “Whatever you want. You just tell me exactly what you want it to look like.”
Something about this felt a little silly, but you understood the purpose for it. Just having a place to put the memories after you visited them, it felt like closure. A special sort of closure at the end of every session, just like your safe place felt like closure. . .
And then, you knew what you wanted it to look like. Saw the image, clear as day, in your mind. It felt significant to you, it felt right. There was no question.
But, you had a thought.
“Would–would it be okay if I drew it?” You questioned carefully.
She eagerly handed you the notepad, markers and pen with a huge smile. “Absolutely. That’s called trusting yourself big time, girly. This box is a special one!” Her voice was wet as she sniffled. “I’m not supposed to get so emotional with my clients, but I’m proud of you. You’re making great strides and we’ve barely started.”
“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a bit encouraged, your own throat tight as you reviewed her once more with a glance.
Then, sticking the tip of your tongue out from the corner of your mouth, you looked down at the paper, and began.
A small, wooden box was all you could see in your mind. So, you drew it out, as best you could, given your lack of artistic abilities.
One side, then the other, the bottom, the top. . .
Before you knew it, you had a perfect, rectangular box on the stripped notebook paper. Then, it was time for the important part: the details.
There was only one element that felt right — felt safe — to decorate the box with.
Scouring through the markers, you found two perfect shades of purple at the bottom — two very different shades, to add depth. You weren’t an artist, really, but you could pretend for the box’s sake.
Then, you searched for the greenest green you could find. One more marker in a shade of dark brown, and you were ready to draw the box exactly as you saw it in your mind.
You began drawing tiny individual stalks of lavender on top of the box. You filled in their blooms with the purples, drawing their stems underneath with the green. Their placement may have seemed scattered across the top, but you kept going. To you, it made sense. And that was all that mattered.
One bloom in the top left corner, one diagonal from it in the bottom right corner. Then, there was one on the bottom left going straight up and down, with a slight curve to the stem. . . And one more, laying on its side directly in the middle. . .
It was perfect. Just as you’d imagined.
You filled in the blank spaces with the brown marker, immulating the antiqued, stained mahogany wood you were envisioning.
And once you filled it all in, your vision had come to life right before your own eyes. It was the ideal picture of what you saw, and despite the fact that you were no artist, it was beautiful. You loved it. Looking at it forced emotions you weren’t expecting, so many big emotions that begged to be surfaced.
And for whatever reason, looking at it made you think of the baby. This beautiful, hand drawn box held a strange connection to the life you and Jake had created, though you couldn’t explain how. . .
But, you felt it. You felt it so strongly.
“Lavender means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” Gia asked you, smiling and wiping away a stray tear that sat on top of her highlighted cheekbone. “It’s very lovely, y/n. And I’m so glad that you drew it.”
You contemplated her question about lavender. You’d never considered just how prevalent it was in all of your happy places. . . But, it was. It meant so much. . .
Who knew that such a simple plant could bring you so much comfort? So much peace?
A tear came to your eye at the thought of how special the plant had become to you. . . It was really no secret why it’d become special.
Gia leaned over, giving you a small side hug, but didn’t linger before making her way back to her chair. She sat at the edge of it, elbows placed on both knees as she clasped her hands at the front.
“How are we feeling?” She asked, sniffling once more as she looked you directly in the eyes. “A little better now that we have our box?”
“Yes,” you nodded, wiping under your eye to rid yourself of any tears. “The box idea is genius.”
“The technical term is containment. Again, it’s simply where the client creates a space to store the distressing memories. I want to emphasize that the memories aren’t coming back to control you, rather you’re the one controlling them. And, the box’s containment of the unpleasant memories gives you a little extra control over these memories and the emotions attached to them. They’re yours to deal with,” she explained softly. “You done with the notebook and pens?”
“Yeah, yeah,” you nodded eagerly, handing the materials back to her. You went over her words in your head, extra control. . . the idea of that sounded wonderful to you. Those words aided in lifting a decent amount of weight from your nervous body.
She took the materials from you, and as she did so, you decided to take the paddles in your hands once more, feeling much more confident.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, rolling back in her tufted chair to put the markers and pencils back on the desk. “I definitely can’t take credit for the idea of containing those horrendous memories in a certain area. . . but it has proven wonderfully effective for every client I’ve practiced this form of therapy with,” she explained further, coming back to sit in front of you, wheeling smoothly back towards you. When she was about two feet away from you, she stopped and observed the picture of your box, the notepad still in her lap. “Do you have a clear idea of the box in your mind?”
“The clearest,” you affirmed, no question in your mind of the precise placement of each piece of lavender. The exact color of mahogany that you’d depicted for the wood, sealed in your brain.
“Wonderful. Well, I’m going to hold it so I can get a good idea of it; just in case you need help finding it at any point,” she said, eyes scanning the page as she spoke. “I’d love to see this in real life – it’s gorgeous.”
“I think so, too,” you grinned, eyes twinkling. And, suddenly, your body felt light in a way that could only indicate one thing. . . you knew there was no time like the present. “I’m ready.”
Gia looked up at your words, her own eyes donning a spark as she tucked the notepad onto her lap. “If you’re ready, I’m ready,” she smiled kindly, her eyes trustworthy and open for opportunity. “First things first. Make yourself as comfortable as you need to. Sit, lay down. . . it’s up to you.”
You kept yourself upright on the couch, allowing yourself to sink back into its cushions a bit more. And for some reason, the thought of crossing your legs, criss-cross applesauce came to mind. So, you did just that, bringing your legs up to the couch and criss-crossing one over the other. You looked at your belly as you did. A timid grin crept along your lips at the thought of knowing you didn't have much longer until you’d no longer be able to do this.
Thank you, sweet baby.
With one deep breath in, you felt your stiff limbs loosen with the comfort of the new position you found yourself in. And with the exhale, you looked down at the paddles in your hands, holding them probably a bit too tight as you felt your nails digging into your clammy palms. Still yet, you kept your grip, somehow feeling a bit more secure that way.
“Nice and comfy?” Gia asked, her warm, knowing smile aiding in relaxing your body even more.
You looked down at your hands, smoothing your thumbs over the cool plastic of the paddles. You knew this was it, that this could begin to change a lot; it could change everything. The thought of change was a frightening one, but with this change would come a healing journey like you’d never known. For you, for the baby, for Jake, even. . .
“As I’ll ever be,” you confidently answered. You were ready to embark on this expedition of mending.
“Perfect,” she said, her voice soft, reassuring. “Close your eyes, take a few deep breaths. Let yourself relax.”
You did as she said, and with one breath in through your nose and blowing it slowly out of your mouth, you closed your eyes.
You felt your chest rise and fall with each breath. You began to breathe deeper and easier the longer your eyes were closed.
“Good job.” You heard her sweet voice, feeling comforted by the simple fact that you knew she was still with you. Though you could no longer see her, you felt her. And that was more than enough. “I’ll start the paddles off slowly, just like last time. Turning them on in 3, 2. . .”
Your body instinctively jolted at the light humming sensation you felt against your palms, your eyes closing a little tighter. But, you quickly remembered the feeling from last time and it didn’t take you very long to get used to it. You even found a little relief in the alternating vibrations. Their consistent rhythm worked to ease your mind. Your eyes, though still closed, instinctively followed in the back and forth motion of the pulsations in your palms.
“Does this speed feel okay?” You heard her ask, her voice suddenly becoming more distant as you let yourself focus on the steady thrumming of the paddles.
“Yes,” you whispered, the sound of your voice echoing as though you were in a long, narrow tunnel. “Feels good.”
“We’ll start with establishing your safe place, y/n. Go ahead and start walking to it. Lead the way.”
My safe place.
Suddenly, as though the mere mention of it had some sort of ability to transcend you there, you began feeling the familiar cool breeze against your face. Faint sounds of the birds singing in the forest of trees filled your ears, becoming a bit louder as you found your footing against the lightly dampened grass beneath your feet. “The birds,” you felt yourself say. “They’re singing, their chirps are becoming clearer now.”
“Wonderful.” Her voice was heard all around you, echoing against the wind. “Tell me what you see.”
Your eyes, still physically shut, began to open in your mind. They squinted at the bright, warm rays from the sun. And as you turned your face upwards toward the sky, you could feel the radiance of the rays against your skin.
And, as you peered a few feet ahead of you, you witnessed a beautiful family of deer were perusing the lush meadow.
“The sun. . . It’s so beautiful and bright, but it doesn’t hurt to look at it,” you shared with her, squinting towards it with no negative effect, shocked by the fact. “And the deer. So innocent and pure. They’re so near to me, but not scared of me at all.”
“You’re doing amazing, y/n. Keep going, tell me what you can touch, what you can smell.” Her voice carried throughout the trees like the wind, meshing beautifully with the songs of the birds.
Bending down, you ran your fingers through the dewy blades of grass. They felt cool, soft. Like a blanket of emerald velvet. “The grass. It’s soft, a little wet.”
And then, the smells. The fragrance of freshly rain coated grass, as though an evening shower had just finished nourishing the ground before you’d arrived. The rainfall, sustaining the life of the pasture, the jude green grasses, the illustrious amethyst plant surrounding you. . .
The divine aroma from your favored flower overwhelmed your senses in the most alluring way. The bloomed field, surrounding you, holding you carefully in its gentle grasp.
“The lavender,” you felt yourself say, eagerly. “I can smell it, so fresh and clean; the sense of calm it brings me. . .”
You then felt the paddles pick up in their speed, ever so slightly, but enough that you could tell.
“Oh yes, your lavender,” Gia hushed as she positively tracked with you.
My lavender.
Gently, you sat your body down in the midst of the flowers. And once you did, you felt the urge to place your hands against your tummy, to feel the baby, just like last time.
There you are, right where you belong, you thought when you felt the smooth bump beneath your hands.
You felt nearly complete, nearly, but you knew something was still missing—someone.
And just when you started to look beyond the stems of lavender to find him, there he was.
Clad in the very same navy blue, three piece suit you��d seen him in the first time. The rays from the sun bounced off of his chestnut locks, his tanned skin radiant and glowing.
With a soft, lopsided smile, he slowly walked toward you. The vision of him, walking amongst the stalks of lavender as they gently swayed from the light breeze against his calves. . . You felt yourself sigh with relief.
This was safe. This was home.
Once he approached you in what felt like no time at all, he laid down right beside you, extending one arm out for you to join him. And as you did, letting yourself at last melt into his warm embrace, you were finally there.
Your safest place.
“I’m here now,” you muttered, feeling yourself smile warmly as you did. “And I’m safe.”
“Enjoy it for a moment, let it sink in, put yourself at ease.” You heard Gia’s voice, but the more you focused on Jake, the more distant she became.
You found yourself gazing into his eyes, sparkling like golden gems, as he cradled you in the crook of his arm.
In his amber-brown eyes, you saw your haven, your sanctuary of serenity.
A gentle smile graced his lips as he reached up, tenderly brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear. “It’s time to step away now, y/n,” he told you. Though, you knew it was truthfully Gia telling you, you heard Jake’s voice. You watched his lips move as he spoke, “You can do this. I’m right here.”
Again, you knew the words were coming from Gia. But, hearing them in his voice, as much as you didn’t want to leave him, it was the final push you needed.
It was time.
With only a bit of resistance, you sat up, slowly standing to your feet and urged yourself forward towards the unknown. When you looked back, you saw Jake standing gracefully amongst the fragrant blooms of your lavender.
Home, you thought. He looks like home.
With one final sigh, and with the most strength you were sure you’d ever mustered, you walked away from him.
Your hands found your belly for some extra courage as you stepped away, everything turning black for a moment once you got far enough. But, the further you went, a tiny, dim light caught your attention. It initially seemed like miles away, but with every step you took, it became worlds closer.
A lamp. You could finally see it. It was old, dusty. It was sitting atop a table, from what you could tell. . .
With one more step, the full picture started to come to you. You’d guessed right — it sat on top of a round, wooden table that only had one leg in the center, making it lean a little to the left. The white, canvas lampshade was stained so badly. . .
The stains were reminiscent of those that come from years of smoking cigarettes near it.
In fact, you were shocked that you could tell it had ever been white.
As the image became more clear, you saw a black ash tray next to the lamp, full of cigarette butts, all but confirming your cigarette theory. You could smell the smoke, too, as though someone had just finished one off. The stench was putrid, the chemically treated tobacco mixed disgustingly with the other trash laying on the table.
To the right, you saw a sofa. The blue cloth over the cushions, stained just like the lamp, was tattered and worn. It was full of holes. Tiny, black holes. Cigarette burns?
God, the smell was nearly becoming too much. It was so strong, potent. Cigarettes and filth. Utter filth. Filth that you suddenly began to remember being suffocated by as a child.
No wonder you liked things so pristinely clean. . .
The shag carpet beneath your feet felt like it had never been vacuumed after years of wear. It was littered with half empty beer cans, more cigarette butts, rat droppings. . .
God — the fucking smell. A triggering smell—one that had your stomach turning to the point that vomit rose in your throat.
The paddles sped up a bit more, much more noticeably this time as they forced your brain to grasp what you were experiencing.
“Tell me what you see, y/n. Tell me where you are.” It was no longer Jake’s voice that you were hearing, it was once again Gia’s. And though you missed the sound of his, you were so happy to hear her, reminding you that she was still there.
This was the past. Gia was the present. You were with Gia.
You stepped to the side, glancing around the room you were standing in, trying with all of your might to not allow the stench to make you sick.
“It’s—I’m in a living room, I think. . .?” You noticed a television set, one from the late nineties with a built-in VCR, sitting on top of a makeshift table made of three small slabs of particle board.
The more you looked around, you noticed there was only one average-sized window in the whole room, next to the white front door. The door was scuffed to hell and looked ready to give at any second. The blinds attached to the window were ripped to shreds, hardly hanging onto the frame.
“Y-yeah, it’s a living room. It’s. . .It was our living room. One of them, at least. I’m fully beginning to. . . To recognize it. . .”
You’d lived in so many homes as a child, seen many living rooms. But this one, this home and the walls surrounding you. . .this one was different. While most homes from your childhood didn’t leave you with happy memories, this one felt—evil. This had been a personal hell.
Anxiety, heavy sadness. . . this room was wrought with it.
And as you heard a certain laugh, deep and throaty, from the next room over, your stomach churned and your mind went fuzzy. That sound. It was vile and thick with too many years of smoking. That particular laugh was associated with ugliness and gut-wrenching fear.
The man that the laugh was attached to. . . This was his house. You remembered that now. There was no safety here. This place was only associated with feeling powerless, forgotten, and lonely.
The paddles wiggled in your hands, the vibrations reaching your worn nerves.
Elsie was here, though. Somewhere. You knew that.
And Elsie had helped in making it less lonely — just knowing she was in this past-tense moment filled you with ease. Your sister was here.
Though, you knew for past Elsie, she was still trapped. Even though she comforted this adult version of you that was invading. . . there was still no escape for little girl Elsie.
This place had been desolate, with no chance for escape. You’d been tied here by invisible rope.
Fuck. Where was your sister? You could feel her near, but she wasn’t in the living room with you. Your skin prickled at what she could be experiencing. . . You couldn’t fully wrap your brain around it.
But this was the past. Right now, you just needed to focus on your surroundings.
Living room. The living room.
Your mind was quickly skirting back to your present placement. And, rather than standing, you suddenly realized you were sitting on the ground. Strangely, your hands in the memory were free of the paddles, tucked safely in your lap, shaking. . . And not daring to touch the dirty, shaggy carpet.
For a split second, you wondered. . . Why were you not sitting on the couch or a chair? And why were you sitting in a place you felt you couldn’t move from? Was this how you’d been placed originally? In the past?
You observed the wobbly dinner table in front of you and realized it had zero chairs. And on a second glance around the room, you noticed something you hadn’t before. . . a sleeping form on the couch.
So, it seemed, with the occupied couch being the only other piece of furniture in the living room besides the table. . . the floor had been your only option.
You used the unconscious state of the room’s other occupant to your advantage and turned a bit to observe the person. The person’s face wasn’t visible and their body was covered in a blanket filled with holes and torn more than it wasn’t. But. . . You could see hair.
Blonde. Yellow-blonde. Box-dyed with the cheapest dye.
Long hair, ratty and knotted to the point of almost no fixing it. The way the strands shone a little bit under the dim lighting from the old, dusty lamp showed you it was very oily as well. . . It wasn’t a healthy shine.
The person on the couch, from what you could see, was far from healthy in any capacity. The body looked malnourished through the blanket’s holes. At closer inspection, you noticed an arm dangling off the sofa, peeking from the blanket.
The arm was littered in tiny holes and scars. . . from heroin injections, multiple cigarette burns. . . Then there was the red, irritated acne that littered the pale skin, between the various marks.
Poor thing. What a dreaded way to live life. . . Your heart broke in your chest and tears sprung to your tired eyes as your hand clutched at your tummy.
You could do that in the memory. You were you in the present, yet placed like you’d been in the past. . . so weird.
All you knew was you had a sense to protect the untouched life in your womb. The feeling of being a protector to your child was unparalleled to anything in this moment. . . You would never let the little life inside of you bear witness to anything like you had as a child. . .
Like your current situation.
Or, past situation, rather. . . This was not real. Not in the present. This was controlled — controllable.
The paddles jolted in your real hands, helping you to center you.
“Y/n,” Gia’s voice broke through your psyche, touching your brain delicately. You let out a sigh of relief at the sound of her soft spoken tone. “Can you hear me, girly?”
You nodded, but weren’t sure if she could see it or if the action was only visible in your dreamlike stupor. This was so weird. . .
So, you decided to respond the best you could with words. “Y—yeah,” you stuttered out, blinking rapidly as you tried (and failed) to keep tears at bay. “This is. . . So familiar, yet so forgotten. . .,” your voice faded out.
Your eyes in the memory were now pinched shut, trying to keep the laughter you could still hear from the kitchen (because, yes, you somehow knew exactly where it was coming from) far away.
But it just seemed to be getting closer. . .
“Tell me where you are, y/n,” Gia requested, soothing, yet strong. “Take me with you. You are going to be okay.”
“I—I can’t—,” gasping, you shook your head.
Willing the menacing, thick chuckle to fade, you squinted your eyes open slowly, tried to refocus on the living room to tell Gia what you could. Your hands still held your belly, but your thighs came closer to your chest. You wanted to scrunch up and stay in your bubble.
“Y/n.”
Your blood ran cold and your skin prickled harshly with goosebumps. Fear. Terror. Dread.
The voice wasn’t Gia’s. It wasn’t Jake’s. No. It was coming from behind you. The person on the couch. The worn down, baby blue fabric couch. The navy blue patterns of it, a distant memory, washing back quickly like a flood. . .
This was definitely a memory. A real thing that had happened in the past. This had happened before. It was deeply repressed.
A dark memory. Bad. So, so bad.
You felt dirty for more reasons than one now. . .
Looking down, you noticed your outfit had changed. Though you still looked as you currently did in 2022, you were wearing an outfit you had as a child. The attire made your skin crawl.
This pajama set, you were made to wear it more often than not.
A tiny, satin set. Too small for you to properly fit into. How old were you? Nine? Ten? Was this right before you went to live with. . .?
“Pig.”
No. Not that nickname. No no no.
You hadn’t heard that since your mother had called you–.
The person on the couch.
“Piggy.”
Did you have it in yourself to face her? Could you? What would happen if you didn’t? No. No.
You had to. The baby, safe in your belly. . . that baby needed a mom who could face her demons and not fall to them.
. . .Fall to them like the shell of a woman, on the couch behind you, had fallen to hers.
You felt crippled with fear, but brave beyond comparison all at once. . .
The steady tremors from the paddles in your hands were the best help you could’ve had in the moment, reminding you of your power. . .
And, once you’d given yourself the strength to swivel your body to meet her eyes. . . there she was.
A woman whose face had become a shadow since she’d left you. The moment she’d left you. . .a mess of snot and tears, head throbbing as it laid on Elsie’s shoulder, desperate to understand a mother that had never seemed to love you.
Your eyes were her eyes. Thankfully, that was about where the similarities in your features stopped.
She was paler than you. Her lips, thin and cracked from lack of hydration where yours were full. Her cheekbones were sharp and protruded more than they should. . . Your cheekbones, defined, yet concealed under soft skin you took very good care of . . .
And her face. . . It also lacked freckles. You had the tiniest spatter of light freckles that sat at the tops of your cheeks. Your freckles, mimicking angel kisses, which stayed mostly hidden save for the summertime when they’d make an appearance after exposure from the sun. Her skin was washed out, lacking color. It was as if she hadn’t even been exposed to the sun for a long, long time. . .
Perhaps you might’ve looked more like her than you could tell at this moment. But, right now, all you saw was a sunken face, holding more wrinkles and lines than a woman her age should hone. And, her eyes, even if they looked like yours initially, were glassy and hollow from too many drugs. . .
Right now, they held uncertainty and a rage that was becoming more and more apparent the longer you looked into her eyes. . .
She looked lost. . . Confused, yet furious.
The fury, pointed towards you.
“Get. Up,” your mother ordered, voice cracking a bit, spit flying past her chapped lips. The tone of her voice. . . it made your heart jump into your throat. “Do your job, Pig.”
Before you could respond, you felt heavy footsteps make their way into the living room, shaking the weak structure of the small home that seemed to be falling apart around you.
“Move, you lazy drug slut,” a booming voice growled. You knew it was aimed towards your mother. “Give little Piggy some space to sit next to Mr. Morgan, hm?”
Mr. Morgan.
The paddles buzzed in your hands, re-centering you.
You didn’t dare look at the man who’d entered the room behind you, knowing it was the same man attached to the laughter from the kitchen.
So, it was only out of your peripheral vision when you noticed him round to the other side of you, getting close to your mom. The next thing you saw, faded from the corner of your eye, were fat, sausage-like fingers reaching to yank the thin blanket off your mother. The unmasked view of her figure broke your heart further, her body shaking, bones on full display through her papery skin, begging for a fix. . .
It didn’t take long for those same fingers to forcefully clutch her shoulder and yank her up. You could’ve sworn you heard the bones in her shoulder crack, but she barely let out a yelp. It was more of a tired groan, eyes closed and eyebrows drawn in with irritation towards being disturbed.
But, she shook more. . . Her bones, most likely rattling under her skin. And this time, you knew it was more from nerves and terror, than lack of drugs. She was just trying to play tough.
Mr. Morgan (the name, making bile rise in your throat) came to sit at the end of the couch, but your eyes once again drew shut and your body became rigid. Even if you were facing the couch, you still only kept your body towards your mother’s. She wasn’t safe, by any means. But she wasn’t Mr. Morgan.
You couldn’t look at him. The vile smell of him alone, sweat and grime from lack of showering. . . You were going to hurl on the spot. The way the nausea quickly began to rise in the hollow of your throat, you knew there was no time to get out now. . . Your heartbeat was thrumming so vigorously in your chest, you felt like you were going to choke on its strength.
Then the ugly, bitter laughter was back again. . . Right in front of you this time, your mother moaning next to him. . .
A distant beeping in the background. . . what? Where was that coming–?
The intensity of the paddles increased, the vibrations working to balance you amidst the fear.
“Open your eyes, Pig,” Mr. Morgan grunted, reprimanding you. His voice was stark and loud against the decaying walls of the living room. You winced with what you imagined to come, your heart accelerating and your blood running colder than cold. “Open. Your. Fucking. Eyes, my little whor–.”
The paddles were working so hard to bring you back, but you couldn’t–.
“Y/n.” Gia’s voice rang out through the disgusting home, flowing into your ears, reassuring you. “It’s time to leave, y/n. Find your safe place.”
You didn’t have to be told twice, not with the tears streaming down your face and the way your breath was stuck in your lungs. Your chest stung from the way your heart rate wouldn’t let up. . . the way your heart raced, unrelenting and beating harder every time. . . . The pain was excruciating, making you want to keel over from the intensity.
There wasn’t a memory of leaving the room, you just knew you had left as you ran.
You ran as fast as your legs could carry you, eyes still shut to avoid being used by him–Mr. Morgan. God. You hated that man. You hated your mother.
But, you weren’t with them anymore. The rotting smell of the home and the body odor that reeked from the two people in your vision – it was all gone. You were out. So, you decided to open your eyes. You had to open them to find the place you’d created for a time just like this. . .
Your place. Your home. The field of lavender. Jake. Peaceful serenity, awaiting you amongst the birds chirping and the light blue skies. . .
So, with eyes open and tears streaming down your cheeks, you decided you needed to be there now. Now now now now. . .
And before you could request it any further, your feet were touching the lush grass and the skies were clear and powdery blue above you. . .
“Are you safe, y/n?” Gia asked, her voice much clearer when you were in the field, surrounded by nature. Your sanctuary.
“Yes,” you breathed, voice cracking just a little on the word. You hadn’t spoken for a while. . . Too scared to do so. Clearing your throat, you tried once more. “Yes. Yes, I’m safe. I’m in my safe place. The lavender. The beautiful, tall trees filled with green leaves. The breeze is perfectly warm against my face. . .”
“Wonderful,” Gia said, sounding relieved and stoic all at once. “You are okay, girly. You are okay. It’s not your current reality. It’s not right now. This is right now. You are safe.”
Yes. I’m safe.
Your breathing was coming much easier and your heart wasn’t pounding in your ears any longer.
Your hands found your belly, the sweetest little round bump. But where was. . .?
Then, you felt him. Jake.
Solid and sure behind you, his chest meeting your back. His arms, coming to wrap around you, cradling you and the belly that held his baby. Your head, falling of its own accord to lay back on his shoulder. . .
You were finally able to relax. Let go. The tears poured from your eyes, wetting your cheeks with steady tracks.
“Shhh,” Jake shushed you, the minty smell of his toothpaste lingering on his breath as it washed over your features. The sandalwood-vanilla of his cologne was reminiscent of heaven, you were sure of it. “It’s okay, baby.”
He swayed you a little, your eyes falling closed in peaceful surrender to him and this moment. . .
“Y/n, I want you to think of your box,” you heard the words, knowing it was Gia. But, you felt Jake saying it. Even if she was the one saying the words, you wanted him to help guide you, too. Your mind was a funny place.
His voice kept soothing you, “Think of the box and open it. Open it and place the memory you stepped into today inside of it. Secure that memory inside of the box.”
So, with one fleeting glance at the disgusting past you’d had to re-experience today, you mentally opened the lid to the box. And, as the lid opened, you let the people and the stingy place flow quickly into the sturdy wooden structure of the box.
You could have spit on the people and the place and the smells. . . Fuck it all.
The sureness of the box truly calmed you as the last little bit of the memory faded into the box.
“Tuck it away in your box. Just keep it there until you’re ready to revisit it again. . .,” Gia counseled, her words yet again came through as if Jake were saying them. His breath was warm against the column of your throat, lips near to your ear. “You have control of it, y/n.”
Once you knew it was all inside, you let the lid click shut. The little pieces of lavender you imagined to be skillfully painted atop the box assured you that it would all be over soon.
Beep beep beep beep. The beeping again. Familiar. You’d heard it momentarily at the disgusting, decrepit house. What was it?
“Y/n,” you heard Gia again, her words no longer masked by Jake’s voice. “Are you ready to come back to the office?”
As much as you wanted to never leave the man who still held you, you knew that the sooner you left the safe place, the sooner you could actually see him. He was waiting for you. In the lobby. In the present.
“Yeah,” you sighed with a sniffle, most of your tears dry after the safety you’d felt in the field of lavender. “Yeah. I’m ready.”
“I’m right here with you,” Gia assured you, her voice the closest it had been since initially closing your eyes.
You closed your eyes once more, your body feeling lighter. Letting yourself sink into real time, you felt the soft, camel leather of the couch under you, around you. Then came the smell of Gia’s essential oils, filtering in through your senses. Things were okay.
When your eyes cracked open, so tentative and slow, Gia was ready and waiting with open eyes.
But the beeping. . . It was still happening — it was incessant. And it was fully apparent now that the sound was coming from your belt bag, hanging on Gia’s office door handle.
Your heart monitor.
Shit.
“How long has that been going off?” You blanched, eyes bugged as you got off the couch to grab your bag from the handle. Though, your legs were weaker than you expected, body worn down. It forced you to sit back down to gain your wherewithal.
Noticing this, Gia stuck a hand out to get you to pause from trying again. “I will grab the bag,” she soothed. “You stay there. Give yourself time to adjust to the present time. You’ve been through it, babe.”
All you could do was nod and swallow thickly, your heart no longer beating hard enough to make the phone go off. But apparently it had accelerated at some point. . .
And then you remembered.
Mr. Morgan. He’d made your heart rate go ballistic.
When he’d approached, commanded you to open your eyes, and almost called you that horrible name. . . it had gone insane.
Your chest had been in so much pain, and you could remember hearing the incessant beeping, now. . .
“Fuck, Gia,” you combed a hand through your hair. “My heart . . . I remember. . . my chest was hurting like a bitch.”
Gia inhaled deeply. “Yeah. . . You know, how about I hold the phone that tracks it from here on out? To keep an eye on your heart rate?” She suggested, raising a brow as she walked back to you with the belt bag. Raising a brow, she eyed you as she got close enough to hand your belongings over to you. “We need to be aware of your health and the baby’s first and foremost, before anything else.”
You swallowed with a slight nod, not wanting to see where your heart had skyrocketed to. But you knew you had to see it. So, you unzipped your bag and shakily got your monitor phone out.
When you slid the screen open to check, your breath caught in your throat. Tears welled in your eyes at the very large number, flashing at you in red.
Shit. 185. What the fuck?
That could have gotten really bad, really fast if Gia hadn’t stopped you when she did.
“So. . . What had it gotten to?” Gia questioned carefully, wide eyes serious and ready to help.
You observed her for a second, not wanting to divulge just how high it had gotten for one reason in specific. . . The fear that Gia would make you stop EMDR if she knew just how high it had gotten — that possibility kept your lips sealed.
“Girly, I really feel it’s incredibly important that we keep track of that. I didn’t want to be invasive while you were under, but I heard it and I knew what it was. . .,” Gia tried to counsel you, taking your skeptical gaze as you finding her invasive. “I really didn’t like not knowing what your heart rate was. It’s best we stay aware of that. We have to be so careful of that, girly.”
You wanted to tell her. Duh. Why wouldn’t you want to? You told her everything else. . . The possibility of not being able to—.
“We will still continue our EMDR, y/n,” Gia grinned warmly with a wink. “I know that’s what you’re worried about. . .”
Your mouth puckered, as you took in a deep breath, gawking at the tall blonde across from you.
You couldn’t help the bubble of a laugh that spurted from your lips, in spite of your worried thoughts. You were in awe of your therapist’s intuition. “How did you know?” You questioned, already mostly knowing the answer.
The answer was: people in this profession were really very incredible. . . And Gia — she, in particular, was so empathetic and so aware of everything that mattered to you. . .
“It’s my job to tune in to that shit,” she grinned, sitting back in her rolling chair, one leg crossed over the other.
After sharing a smirk with her, you decided you might as well tell her. You were nearing the end of your time, and you assumed she still wanted to be filled in on what had happened during your time under.
“My BPM was. . . in the 180s,” you divulged, wary of her reaction. “That’s um—that’s really high,” you tagged on to the end, blowing out a breath, still shocked at the number yourself.
“Ho-ly fuck,” Gia stated, eyes wide and mouth in a straight line as she shook her head. “No shit that’s high.”
“We’ll figure it out?” you stated the question, hoping it would be ammunition for Gia to agree.
“Of course,” she nodded adamantly. Sitting up in her chair, she leaned forward. Her elbows, on the ends of her thighs, near her knee caps. “When do you turn it in? How long do we have with it?”
“I turn it in next week,” you answered, curious where she was going. “Hopefully I’ll get some results and sure answers. . .” Trailing off, you decided to shut up so she could get to her point.
“Well. . .,” she started, rubbing her palms together, eyes glancing down and back to you, “Would you be opposed to me attaching another monitor to you during our sessions? After that one is turned in?”
“That’s a great plan,” you answered, nodding with pursed lips. “Sounds safe.” Though, you paused. One more question. “And you’ll keep watch of it next time?”
“If that’s what you want from me, I’d love to be able to help you in that way,” she answered with a reassuring sureness in her tone.
“I do want that,” you replied with a sheepish grin. “I’d appreciate it.”
“Of course, girly,” Gia smiled, lopsided and full of ease. “We’ll make sure to get you through this therapy the safest we possibly can. Gotta protect you and that baby.”
-🌼🌼🌼-
After filling her in on everything from your EMDR vision, she’d given you a few more pieces of therapeutic wisdom and advice. Little things to follow if the memories came back with a vengeance.
But, you’d gone more than five minutes over your session’s time at that point, pushing her other appointment back.
So, you didn’t get long before the two of you had to bustle out. You’d been about eight minutes past session end time when you officially exited the small room, the session having just ended.
A long fucking session.
Your body was extremely weighed down by fatigue and exhaustion. So, when you finally connected with Jake, you sunk happily into his warm, safe embrace.
It seemed walking directly into Jake’s arms was exactly what your body longed for after leaving Gia’s office. You’d had little to no choice in where your body had guided you.
He had already been standing, waiting for you. His amber-brown eyes, wide open and full of readiness to help you. He’d seemed anxious to see you. You could tell as much by the tapping of his foot, the way he’d been worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, the wrinkle of his brows. . .
So, of course, as soon as you approached, his arms had widened to welcome you in.
Surprisingly, you hadn’t cried when you met his arms. . . Honestly, it was probably because you’d exhausted your tear ducts during your session. And all that you felt now was pure numbness. You didn’t know how to feel – just knew that you were tired and needed someone to be close to.
And Jake was the person you wanted most.
Once safe in his embrace, you didn’t have the mental energy to even think about how it would look to Gia – but you knew she’d understand.
You felt Gia come up behind you, even halfway heard her introducing herself to Jake.
And even though you were out of it, you still heard Jake respond kindly, hearing the smile in his voice. When he moved his hand to shake hers, you didn’t turn around, just kept your face tucked into his shoulder, one of his arms still tightly hugging you to him. The pressure was really nice – it really calmed you down to feel so secure with him.
It felt like the field of lavender, but this was really real – and that made it inexplicably better.
Thankfully since you’d quickly scheduled the next session in Gia’s office, you didn’t have to wait much longer to head home. You didn’t want to leave his embrace, but you ended up turning out of Jake’s arms to tell Gia goodbye.
When you reached forward to give her a hug, she whispered calmly in your ear. “You’re safe. Everything is okay in the here and now. I’m proud of you, y/n. You are already making great strides.”
After telling her a quiet ‘thank you’, you turned to Jake.
“I’m ready when you are,” he assured you, lips turned up in an easy grin. His eyes were soft in a way that showed you he really was ready to be whatever you needed him to be.
You didn’t need to be told again. You were ready for food and sleep. So, after the two of you waved to Gia over your shoulders, Jake let you lead him out, opening the door for you from behind.
-🌼🌼🌼-
When you snapped out of your daze and found a bit of energy, you decided to divulge to Jake just how high your heart rate had gotten during the session.
You had expected him to be a little worried on your behalf, but he’d gotten. . . really, really worried. You’d go so far as to call it a minor anxiety attack.
His eyes had bugged, face had paled, and his breathing had gotten choppy. . . All signs of some serious anxiety on his end.
His care for the situation was apparent, that much was for certain. He’d babbled in a rush of words – voiced a lot of concern on your behalf and the baby’s. . . Well, that was what you could catch in his raspy, frenzied tone. You’d missed a few things as he’d rushed the words out.
It was really sweet how much he cared. You had to work to keep the tiny grin off your face in response to his obviously sincere regard for your health (and the baby’s). You’d kept your quiet smile at bay the best you could and calmly reassured him that you were wearing a heart monitor for a reason – so the doctors could track those weird things and get down to the root of why your heart sucked ass at times.
You’d explained that medical professionals had started dealing with it the night at the emergency room and would continue once your monitor got sent in within the next couple of weeks.
“I know today’s already been a lot, but do you have it in you to explain more about that night?” Jake asked, his breathing evening out as he rounded the curb, out of the office parking lot. “The night you went to the emergency room?”
“Yeah, totally,” you readily agreed, jumping at the opportunity to not think about the muddled images still flashing in your mind from your session. “Where do you want me to start?” You wondered aloud, peeking at him as you picked with a loose string on the seam of your leggings.
He cleared his throat in the way that indicated he was a little nervous. “What triggered it, exactly? Had you been okay at the bar that night? Was it because of something that had happened there?”
“It wasn’t really because of anything that happened at the bar, no,” you shook your head, looking down at the string you were pulling at, giving it a good yank to do away with it. “And I was kind of okay that night. . . Same as I’d been every other day around the time,” you laughed humorlessly, not missing those days at all.
But, you couldn’t help reflecting on the events at the bar. . . since he'd brought it up. That night, just thinking of it still gave you butterflies. . . The way he’d feasted his eyes on you as your song played. . .
Stay focused, y/n.
“Um— during those earlier days, I’d had several days where I’d been really fuckin’ dizzy. . . could hardly eat most days, always nauseous and puking. . .,” you crinkled your nose at the thought, shivering at the memories.
After getting over the thought of the constant vomiting, you stopped your train of thought to consider the fainting. All of the factors. You were not sure what to blame in particular. Though, you remembered Dr. Stevens’ opinion.
“Honestly, more than one factor triggered it. . . but. . .,” you drew in a breath, pinching your eyes shut at the worst part of the night. “I actually blacked out and fucking fainted,” you cracked one eye open to look over at him to gauge his reaction.
“You blacked— you what?!” His voice rose a little bit at the idea, the car swerving the slightest bit when he glanced at you.
“Focus on the road!” You shook your head, eyes now opened wide at his swerve. However, you did find his reaction a bit funny. “I’m fine now, Jake,” you reassured, reaching over to give his arm one squeeze.
But quickly, you placed your hand back in your lap to avoid any sort of awkwardness.
You offered him a smile as your hand moved, looking up at him from your twitching thumbs, just as he glanced down at you.
His eyebrows were still knit with worry when he faced the road again. “You’re sure?”
“Mostly,” you answered, thinking of the heart monitor’s job, peering down briefly to where it stayed on your chest. “They’re tracking my heart rate to make totally sure. And I’ve even kept an eye on my hemoglobin — which is doing much better, too. Not that you care about that part—.”
“I care about it all,” Jake interrupted, his tone insistent enough to make you pause and look over at him.
Let him care, y/n. He wants to. . . Don’t tell him what he cares about and what he doesn’t. . .
From under your lashes, you studied him. You were glad he was now stopped at a light, giving you a little time to share a look with him. His eyes were full of warmth. . . The deep brown of his irises, capturing you. His eyes held yours so tenderly, desperate for you to understand he meant what he said.
And you did understand. You understood that he truly cared for you. . . and that his patience for you was incredible. You just felt completely undeserving of the amount of chances he’d given you after you’d hurt him so badly.
The look in his eyes had you trapped, completely enamored by all of him. . . Your heart beat was pulsing in your ears, helping you to feel light as a feather under his stare.
But, when a car honked to let you both know the light had turned green, it jolted you both, effectively tearing your focus from the other. He was driving again and you were back to looking through the windshield to continue your story.
You cleared your throat to break up the air.
“We um— we checked all the boxes, you could say. The doctor was sure to put measures in place to keep an eye on all of the things that could have been a major issue to trigger that,” you spoke confidently, to give him affirmation that things were okay. “So, yes, I’m sure I’m fine now and I’m going to be fine in the future.”
Out of selfish desire, you let your line of sight float back to him. Yet again. It was just so easy to sit and admire his natural beauty. . .
Jake sucked in a breath, so deep from his chest. You could tell he was considering your words, one brow still arched in contemplation.
“Okay,” he sighed his response, relief evident in his looser posture. He eased up his grip on the wheel, leaning back in the seat. You tried not to watch the way his jeans stretched over his lap. “So,” he started, “is there anything else you found out that night? A big, prevailing reason you quite literally blacked out?”
“The doctor I spoke to thinks it’s because of this underlying condition I most likely have — called POTS.”
“POTS?” He asked, his tone curious. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that.”
“It’s just a blood circulation disorder. I think I’ve had it nearly all my life. But it can be brought on by stress and cause things like fainting. . .,” you trailed off, glancing down at your belly. “Which I was obviously feeling a lot of with the baby. I mean, talk about massive life change,” you smirked, rubbing the bump that was more and more noticeable every day.
“And I was the only one who knew this giant thing for a bit. . . then only Elsie knew. And, yeah, when Josh found out, I was feeling a little better. Felt lighter. . .,” you paused, your next words, being important to you. “But I still wanted to tell you most,” your lips lifted in spite of yourself. “But, we weren’t really talking because of all the shit that happened between u–.”
You stopped yourself at that, though. Shit. Today didn’t really seem like the time to get into all of that. It had already been such a long day.
The car stayed silent for a few beats.
Once Jake started speaking again, your eyes found his handsome profile.
“Yeah. . .,” Jake offered in response to that, his jaw clenching. His eyes were dead-set on the road. The expression on his face, hard. Yet. . .it wasn’t angry. Not angry at all, just thoughtful.
He seemed to be contemplating it all.
He proved you right with his next words, bringing you back. “I need you to know—I’m really fucking sorry for not being so present—for not noticing more. I wish I would’ve been more aware and been there for you. . . Shit, I should have noticed you weren’t eating normally and were constantly sick,” he rubbed his forehead once, jaw tight again as he spoke on the subject. “I was still just stuck in my own head over stuff — really hurt. I still am, I think. But, I also, more importantly, had no way of knowing that you were carrying my kid, so. . .,” he trailed off, clearing his throat. “So I didn’t watch too hard for things out of the ordinary — my mind was in other places.”
Other places, your mind repeated, mocking you. Like Maya. . .
Your stomach was still churning at the depressing thought of him having ignored you and still being hurt (albeit, you’d deserved it), when his voice echoed back through your train of thought.
“I did notice you weren’t home that night, though. . . After dropping Maya off at her place, I got home and you weren’t there. I. . .,” he sniffed, running a nervous hand through his hair as he looked both ways to make a turn. “I panicked, noticed your chapstick and house key were on the ground outside — it made no fuckin’ sense. I called Josh to ask him where you were — assumed he’d know. And, he did. But he told me the bare fucking minimum. I didn’t even know you were at the emergency room. He just told me not to worry and cut me off with an ‘I love you’ before hanging up on me,” Jake rolled his eyes at the memory, fists gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter. “Now I know it’s because you obviously really needed him. . . But at that point, I was so pissed. Obviously, you were in some sort of bind and there was nothing I could do to help since we were. . .,” he let his train of thought fade into nothing. Your mind was a frenzy of everything he was telling you, but you tuned back in when he began speaking again. “And then your heart monitor came in the mail. . . I didn’t even think about how they could be connected. I just knew the very little Josh had told me from that night and then I saw a damn heart monitor show up. . . I was just super fucking confused and terrified for you. . . I was trying my best to connect all of the dots.”
“Well. . .,” you started, not sure if you should say what you were thinking. But still, you did. “It wasn’t really any of your business at that point. I didn’t want to make you— it was just a lot to process for me and we. . .,” you trailed off, at a loss. Still so tired from the session. “I don’t know. . . I had reasons.”
“I know, y/n,” he responded, voice tight with masked emotion.
You didn’t know what to say after that. Your eyes were trained on what was outside the passenger side window.
The air in the car was dense, slightly awkward on your end.
It was strange how weird things could feel after a damn conversation when, just a week ago in this very car, you’d had him in your mouth.
It was slightly embarrassing that a hard conversation topic was what it took to make both of you freeze up. But, somehow, you could still find the wherewithal to have your mouth on his. . . Mhm.
That was what you got for making sex such a giant thing before. . . now you’d made that easy and everything else fucking taboo.
But the sex had just been too good to not make it something you did all the damn time. . .
God, you missed sex with him. . . Him, inside of you, his hips going at a perfect pace. . .
Thanks to your motherfucking hormones, you were back in the living room floor with him. . . So often, you went back to that one rainy morning with Aretha Franklin on the turntable. . .
The look on his face when you fucked him, one of your favorite sights. That morning, just like always, he’d watched you so closely. . . Your face, your breasts, your ass, or your pussy that was wrapped around him, so tight.
As he fucked you so slow and purposeful, a hand raising your leg to get a better angle, he hit a secret spot inside of you. Your toes had curled as you whined his name.
And just as his name fell from your lips, he’d scrunched his brows, and let his mouth fall open with certain movements of his hips. His jaw, clenched, when you’d flex around him or biting his lip when you’d let out a shaky breath. . .
“Y/n?”
“Yes?” You shook your head of the fucking delicious scene in your memories.
Now was not the time.
To show respect, you did your best to wipe the picture and put your full attention on him. You glanced at him. He looked so beautiful under the natural light of the early evening and the streetlights. And his hair looked so healthy and long. . .
“I’m not upset or anything that you kept any of it from me,” he ventured to explain, your mind coming back to the topic at hand. “I need you to know that.”
“You’ve kind of already told me all of this before,” you started with a smile, eyeing the radio for a bit.
Music. You needed music.
You began to mess with the buttons, turned down the volume, and hooked your phone up to the aux. “I know you, Jake,” you continued with a sigh, scrolling your playlists, finding a song you were suddenly craving to hear. “I know you well enough to know you aren’t upset with me for keeping it all from you for a bit. You have a good heart.”
“You give me too much credit,” he humorously laughed. “I’m not always so sure about how good I am these days — kind of always doubted that about myself and right now is no different.”
At his words and sound of disbelief, you looked over at him with a wrinkle in your brow. His own eyebrows were set with an odd, unreadable emotion. You hadn’t clicked the song to play yet. This was too important to not address.
“Jacob,” you said sternly. His eyes stayed glued to the busier street. “I don’t give you ‘too much credit’. I just see you and know you well – anyone who truly matters sees you for who you truly are. I, like all of them, love y— appreciate everything you are.”
Shit. What was that that almost slipped from your lips?! Nothing. It was nothing. Ignore, ignore, ignore. . .
You were just hormonal and emotional.
You continued with intent to make your point known, doing your best to forget the slip-up. “I’ve made my fair share of mistakes – we all have. Don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m not about to hold anything against you right now.”
Cracking a smile, you decided you wanted to throw in a bit of a joke. “I mean, I would have to hold it against you if you killed someone or some shit,” you giggled, his own raspy laugh joining you.
But fuck, you couldn’t ignore that one emotion you were feeling. . .
It wasn’t love. It couldn’t be. You didn’t know why the fuck you’d said that word of all words.
But this feeling. . . It was intense like love could be. It had your heart in your throat and your tummy tied in nervous knots. . .
You’d felt a need to say the words. A need for him to know how much you. . . how much you. . . How much you what, exactly?!
This was going to drive you fucking nuts.
So, to break the nonstop, crazy wave of thought, you played the song you felt like playing at the moment.
The song was “In the Moment” by Snoh Aalegra, one of your favorite R&B goddesses.
And, of course, the lyrics matched your heart. Perfectly. Oddly. Precisely. Music was your favorite language.
Do you mind if I try to come apologize to you?
'Cause I said some things that I realized wasn't true
You couldn’t stop your movements when your head slowly turned to look in his direction. His sunglasses were off due to the darker sky, so you could see every blink of his pretty eyes, long lashes touching the dark circles under his eyes with each blink. He watched the road carefully, maneuvered around cars with an ease that had you hoping he’d be around to drive you to the hospital on a certain day in May. . .
Your heart swelled in your chest at his attention to the road. This particularly protective nature of his, as the driver, was new. . .
And I'm sorry for it
I'm emotional
This is your fault
Please listen when I say
I care about you
You tried to look away from him. Really, you did. It just couldn’t be helped. The way these lyrics kept pulling something from deep within your soul as you watched him drive. . .
But you still couldn’t figure out what was getting pulled in you, exactly. It felt weird, but only in a fulfilling way. . . Your heart ached, your head clouded with all things surrounding him.
And then, just as he stopped at a red light, his eyes met yours.
You had been caught red handed in your stare, but it didn’t seem to matter. Not to you, not to him. He smiled at you, the same, warm smile you knew all too well to be uniquely his. (And hopefully your baby’s.)
The lyrics and melody of the song were adding to your already emotionally-tangled state. You just wanted to be with him always—hold him tight so he couldn’t leave. Never wanted him to leave.
Out of pure instinct, your hands found rest on your tummy, tucking underneath the bump. His smile only grew, stretching wide on his lips as his eyes followed the movement. Your heart did a little flip in your chest.
This moment. . .
His foot let off the brake when the light turned green, pulling his eyes away from yours. The music coasting through the speakers said all the things you so desperately wanted to say. Though, Snoh sang them far more beautifully than you could ever say them yourself.
I was in the moment
I ain't really mean what I said to you
So put away your pride, baby
We can work it out if you want this, too
You hoped on every star in the winter sky that Jake was listening to the words, somehow feeling them as deeply as you were.
But if I could stay, I’d stay with you. . .
Your phone ringing snapped you out of your reverie and when you looked down to see who it was, you were not expecting the contact you saw.
The OB office.
Your heart started speeding up in your chest again, breath catching and nerves wracking your system at the most inopportune time. As you turned down the song to talk to the person on the other end, you contemplated why they were calling. . .
The appointment had already been rescheduled. . . So what else could be needed? Was something wrong?
You felt Jake’s palm splay across your thigh, fingers giving light, pulsing grips to the muscle through the fabric of your leggings. Skin heating at his touch, you looked up and over at him.
“Who?” He whispered, quietly as he could.
“OBGYN,” you mouthed back, clicking the green button to answer at the same time that he raised a brow in confusion.
“Hello?” You spoke into the phone, trying to keep your voice even-toned for whoever called you.
“Miss y/n?” Dr. Rose responded. Her Southern accent, friendly, on the other end, sounding happy as a lark.
Hearing her sound okay helped your nerves ease up – weren’t quite as frayed as they had been to begin with. Jake’s hand was still on your leg, offering reassurance. But while his touch did comfort you, it also made your heart rate speed up and head swim for another reason entirely.
Thankfully, considering the baby, your heart was slowing down. . . If Dr. Rose sounded fine, then surely things were fine, right?
“Hi, Dr. Rose,” you said, voice perking up just the slightest bit. Looking out the windshield, you focused on the pretty colors in the sky. All light pinks, oranges, and the prettiest periwinkle thanks to the winter evening’s premature setting sun. “Is everything alright?”
“Oh, more than, Sweet Cakes! Just checkin’ in to see that Friday still works for ya,” she explained, her drawl not quite as thick the more she spoke. But it was still there and it made you feel warm inside for some reason.
Admittedly, you knew it was partially due to the fact that she seemed to only be calling to confirm your appointment. According to Dr. Rose, everything was ‘more than’ alright. . . you released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
“Yeah. It works for me,” you sighed, running a nervous hand through your hair, knee still bouncing with the unexpectedness of the phone call. “Let me check with Jake real quick. I’m with him right now,” you held your hand over the speaker, looking over to your handsome driver. He’d just made it onto a highway, but momentarily glanced down at you. You hushed your next question, not wanting to disturb Dr. Rose. “Does Friday still work for you? For the week 17 appointment?”
Jake’s face opened up at the question, his eyes brightening with a smile that lifted the corner of his mouth. “Of course,” he quietly responded. “I have the whole day blocked off just for that.”
Your stomach did somersaults at him being so excited for the appointment, but you still dipped your eyebrows in at him. “You didn’t have to do that,” you whispered back. “Take the whole day for it.”
Jake shook his head, and with a dimple in his cheek, he just looked back at the road. Didn’t even acknowledge what you said any further.
You closed your eyes, a small smile on your lips at his desire to be fully available – it gave you butterflies. Back to the phone call at hand, you faced the windshield again to continue the call with your OB. “Dr. Rose?”
“Yes ma’am,” she excitedly greeted back.
“It still works for us,” you said, the smile not fading from your lips. Us. You really, really loved the sound of that word coming off your tongue. “Are you sure you’re still okay doing the appointment before week 18? I know how you feel about all of that. . .”
You didn’t know why you were asking – shouldn’t have even said anything. The idea of putting it off any longer was not what you wanted, and you didn’t want to make Dr. Rose think you’d be okay with that. But, it was too late now. You’d already asked.
“Oh, yes, babygirl. I’m the one that made ya wait past week 16! I felt bad, but I didn’t want ya to have any lull period,” she boomed on the other end, sounding so genuinely kind-hearted. It made your heart feel so full. “Completely fine with me – why I offered it to ya! I gotta admit, I’m a little excited to be findin’ out the gender a week earlier than normal. Ya know I never do that for my girls, but you’ve just seemed very special to me since the day you walked in. You’re a good seed in a bag ‘a bad ones, sweetie pie. So, I just had to make an exception.”
“Thank you so much, Dr. Rose,” you gushed, a tear coming to the corner of your eye at her sentiment.
“I knew it would drive ya nuts havin’ to wait.”
“It would have,” you giggled, agreeing with a sniff to attempt to rid yourself of the tear.
She laughed heartily on the other end. “You have a beautifully passionate heart, little miss y/n,” she remarked. “You’re goin’ to be a wonderful mama for it.”
Aaand, there was no stopping the tear as it turned into a couple more, drifting down your cheek.
Jake must have looked over at the perfect time, because as soon as the tears fell, he was squeezing your thigh once more. His hand had never left your body.
But, you really needed him to stop holding you and caring because you were going to pounce on him. No questions asked. . .especially with the fluffy headspace you were in.
Emotional over a phone call or not, your body reacted to him in ways you couldn’t stop.
“How’s your heart?” Dr. Rose was in your ear again, bringing you back. She was in no rush whatsoever. You were shocked that she seemed to want to keep the conversation going. Even after the first question, she continued with another. “I know ya filled me in on it a little bit last week on the phone, but any more updates?”
“Doing alright, I think,” you responded, sniffling at her eagerness to stay updated on your wellbeing. Was she just being a good doctor? Probably. But, still. It meant a lot to you. “I will send my monitor in on the 17th. I’m so ready to be done with it,” you replied with a huff of a laugh, looking down to mess with a loose string on your oversized jacket. “And I think everything else has gotten much better since that ER visit, too. Just keeping an eye on things,” you finished, happy to explain everything to her.
This phone call was officially a highlight to your day now that you knew there was no reason to stress over it. Dr. Rose just made you feel good. You really enjoyed talking to the older Southern woman. Her heart shone through her personality. And, whether she made these efforts for all patients or not (you were sure she did), it just meant the world to you that she seemed to be so thoughtful.
She seemed to take very seriously that it was a vulnerable time in any woman’s life. Dr. Rose just seemed to do very well at her job. You were grateful for her.
“When Mount Sinai sent over that information all those weeks ago, I gotta be honest, it stressed me for ya for a bit,” she said, voice suddenly thick with a sort of concerned emotion. Not worried anymore, you could tell that much. But, it was obvious she had been troubled by it when it initially happened, from the way she sounded now.
“Although, when I read all of their tests on my end, I knew you’d be okay. Just a bump in the road, sweetie – it happens. You will be just fine!” She reassured you in her twang, the words made your head clear in a way you’d needed since the night at the hospital. “And, that sweet baby was doing so great still, in spite of it all. You’ve got a strong one, mama.”
Yeah, there was no stopping the onslaught of tears at those words. Your baby was strong. You were so proud.
“Yeah?” You sniffed. “You think so?”
“I know so. That little one was movin’ and groovin’ already that first day. . . that sure doesn’t happen with every baby! He or she is very special – just like their mama,” she emphasized, sniffling on her own end of the phone. “Well. . . . as long as this Friday still works for you, I think I can let ya go, honey bun.”
“Yes, it does,” you confirmed once more, pulling the sleeve of your jacket over your hand and patting your cheeks with it. “Thank you again.”
“No need to thank me, Sweet Cakes.” You could hear her smile through the phone, imagined her lips covered in the prettiest bright red matte lipstick. “You have a good nigh– oh! Before ya go. . . .”
“Yes?” you questioned curiously, eyebrow raising with a little grin on your lips.
“You mentioned a Jake earlier. Does this Jake happen to be the baby’s daddy?”
You blushed, looking over at him. He glanced over at you at the same time, an eyebrow raising when you caught his eye. Your cheeks heated even more when you looked into his eyes. Your baby’s daddy.
“He is the baby’s daddy, yeah,” you explained, continuing to watch him as you said the words. He had to keep his eye on the road, but you saw how his lips stretched, the smile showing his pride at the title.
“And he will be comin’?”
“He will be there,” you affirmed, your heart racing in your chest at the idea of him being there with you. It had you equal parts jittery and utterly overjoyed to have him be present at the appointments.
“Wonderful. Sounds like a good daddy already,” she gushed from her end of the phone.
And when he came to the next light, much nearer to the complex, you watched him and waited until he looked over at you. When his eyes found yours, glowing amber-brown in the nearly-set sun, your heart squeezed inexplicably in your chest.
“He is a really good daddy,” you answered, tears threatening to clog your throat.
After you said the words, you watched his eyes become wet with an unnamed emotion. A wide, slightly shaky grin on his pretty lips. With the addition of a pink blush in his cheeks, you wanted to be able to read the exact way he was feeling.
But. . . at the current moment he suddenly seemed impossible to read. There was something behind his eyes that seemed so familiar and so hazy all at once. . .
Or maybe you were just really, really tired.
-🌼🌼🌼-
“I don’t have to go to this tonight,” Jake offered, pulling into the complex.
You raised a brow, looking at him. As much as you wanted him to stay with you after today’s session, you knew that sleep was the first priority. He’d end up sitting around most of the night anyway.
If things were different, you would ask him to lay down with you. You’d keep him close. But. . . That wasn’t how things were for the two of you.
You needed a nap and he needed to be with his girlfriend. As much as it sucked, she took priority over you. He wasn’t yours.
You already felt selfish enough for taking his entire early evening away from him. You didn’t want to steal any more of his night.
“No, Jake,” you giggled, trying your best to play off the want to have him near. “I’m good. You’ve done everything you can for me tonight. Don’t need you for anything else — you’re free.”
It was silent for a little bit as Jake found his parking space. You were too tired to keep any sort of conversation going, preparing to doze against the window as he went to back into his space.
Though, when he placed his hand on the headrest behind you to back in, you couldn’t help but turn to glance up at him.
The way he held his bottom lip between his teeth as he focused on situating the Jeep into the parking space, just right. . . You felt guarded and protected by the placement of his arm above you. It made your tummy flip.
And the mustache that kept making a reappearance on his pretty face, accentuating his plush lips perfectly. . .
You licked your lips as you watched him, your eyes lazy as you let your stare wander down his body . . .
But before you could get too far, Jake’s deep, raspy tone broke through to you.
“Hey.”
Fuck. Your tiredness was quickly becoming enemy number one, exposing you.
Quickly, you flicked your eyes up to him, swallowing thickly, awaiting him with vulnerability clear on your features.
For some reason, you expected to see him grinning at you being caught. But his features were unwaveringly straight, studying your face with his eyebrows drawn in concentration.
“Are you sure?” He asked, his eyes soon finding yours to pierce through. Damn, you felt naked under his stare. No two ways about it.
Your eyes sunk into his, wishing you were naked—.
“You’ve had a long day and I want to be available—.”
“I’m sure,” you cut him off, needing to get out of the car before you made a stupid move. You just needed rest; your tiredness was making you weak.
“Please. Go have fun,” you encouraged further, looking down to observe your nails, desperate to be repainted. Shaking your head, you continued to solidify your point. “You’ve done enough for me. You have a girlfriend who’s expecting you to be with her tonight.”
And if you stay here tonight, there’s no telling what I’ll try to do with you. . .
“‘Kay,” he responded. At his short tone, your eyes floated up to check on him. You watched as he quickly grabbed his keys out of the ignition, refusing to look at you until the last second. “I’ve gotta get going pretty soon then.”
“Yeah,” you breathed with a shake of your head, unsure of what else to say. And before he could get your door for you, you were doing it yourself — didn’t want to get in his way.
Whatever this conversation had become, it was far too much for your brain to wrap around at this moment.
You needed fucking sleep.
-🌼🌼🌼-
After you’d filled your Stanley and sat it on your bedside table, your next mission was to change into looser, cozier clothes. You stripped your pants and bra, and found a giant t-shirt. And your softest fuzzy socks had been a last minute must have before finding your bed.
Finally.
Almost as soon as you landed on your bed, your eyes were fluttering closed. The softness of your sheets and duvet, the cleanliness and the comfort of your bed was too incredible for you to resist sleep for long.
At the same time, Jake was getting ready for his time with Maya, and had apparently decided to shower. When the steady stream of water sounded through the wall, you relaxed even further. You focused on the soothing sound of the shower running and imagined how near he was to you.
He hadn’t left you yet.
Admittedly, putting your mind on Jake going about his business made you feel quite at home.
And that thought had been the seemingly final step to finding rest, sleep finding you quite easily with easy thoughts of your handsome roommate.
-🌼🌼🌼-
But, to your disdain, the nap didn’t last as long as you’d hoped.
After only a couple of hours, you’d woken up and couldn’t go back to sleep to get any more rest. You tried to fall asleep again. It was all you’d wanted after your emotionally exhausting day.
The longer you laid in your bed and tried to find more sleep, you realized it was just not going to happen. The small apartment felt too big and empty and your mind raced with the scene you’d witnessed during EMDR.
To your demise, the little wooden box had somehow cracked open a little while you slept. You figured it was because you’d dreamt of what you’d seen in therapy. Your subconscious was working without your complete consent.
That man with the thick fingers and clenched fists. . . He’d come floating out of the box first as you laid underneath your fluffy, white, clean bed covers. . .
Mr. Morgan. . . Who was he? You could not place his role in it all yet. . . While you were able to remember him and his living room now, that was about where it stopped.
The smell of him had stuck with you most since the memory. The potentness of his body odor in your subconscious had been a severe trigger – a trigger to things you weren’t capable of remembering yet.
But, you knew that whenever those things did get conjured up again, you wouldn’t be ready. You just knew. The feeling alone that came associated with him and seeing him again. . . made you feel grimy – made your skin crawl like bugs were living underneath your flesh.
Then there was your mother. You hadn’t been able to recall the distinct features of her face for years. Your grandparents didn’t have pictures of her up in their home – only ones of you and Elsie through the years. It was like she hadn’t ever existed.
But today? Today she was back. Full force. You felt her. You smelled her. You saw every. single. feature.
The stringiness of your mom’s hair when she’d been with the man in the recollected vision. . .
You couldn’t help but compare the hair in the vision to the fullness of it in small memories you cherished. . . There was a certain Christmas memory you kept close, her sweater had been brand new. Her hair, naturally brown and billowing out beautifully behind her. You had a few of those moments in time. A few decent memories you’d never let go completely away. No matter how much time passed or how foggy they became, you held onto them.
What struck you as disheartening was the way the woman transitioned from one version of herself to another in the fragments of time you could grasp. You remembered, it was rare to consistently witness the same mom growing up. You’d been forced at a young age to confront the fact that you never truly knew the woman that gave birth to you.
She’d been very dirty more times than not, you could remember that much now. From what you were beginning to recall, she rarely smelled good. Showers hadn’t seemed to be her forte from the grease that had been constantly caked in her hair if she wasn’t with your grandparents. Her skin had even been oily from her lack of showers, just as greasy as her hair.
The houses she had you living in, too. . . you could vaguely picture a few of those (besides Mr. Morgan’s). The one you were in within your recollected memory today had been so filthy. The grossness of the environment was coming to you in small bits. There’d been times you’d seen families of cockroaches climb into the pantry. . . Or when an occasional rat would scurry across the stained carpet, right past your feet. . .
You shivered in your bed at the thought, toes wiggling against your soft socks and covers. The loose sheet and duvet came closer to your chin as you tried to completely envelop yourself in your current reality. Things were safe.
It was just a-fucking-lot to process alone. And the last thing you wanted to do was burden anyone else with it. So, even if Jake had stayed with you rather than Maya after therapy, you knew you’d still be swirling in circles in your mind.
You were just glad you only had to wait a week for therapy to continue digging through this with the help of your therapist.
The images of the man and your mother kept flip-flopping in your mind, not leaving you alone — each taking turns in mocking your peace. It was enough that you felt your breath become choppy and your heart begin to race in your chest. Your clammy hands were clenching and unclenching over and over again, trying to find some sort of relief and distraction from the thoughts. The smells were coming back to you, vivid as they’d been during your therapy today. . .
And the moment you began to hear that distant, haunting chuckle from your past, embedded in the new flashes of memory, you shut your eyes. You squeezed your lids together so tightly. Your fists came to cover your eyes, pushing down on them just a little to see stars alongside the black.
Yet, the sound continued to get closer and closer to you. Desperately, you thought back on Gia’s advice should this happen.
One of the small pieces of advice she’d given you, when the session’s time was five-minutes passed.
“Now, if these things come back or more memories come to you and you would rather not think of them in the moment they do: take a break,” Gia had advised, going to hold your hands in hers between the two of you. “Take a break, wherever you are, and go to your safe place.”
She’d given you a couple of other things to try, but she’d stayed insistent that you try the safe place first. Every time. Get used to the place, make it a habit to run to it in these times.
So, you tried your damnedest to shut the thoughts out like you would on her soft, camel leather couch. Your eyes closed as you tried, working to focus on the idea of traveling to a field of lavender and Jake.
Though before you could get any further, your eyes snapped open, knowing you had one more step before you went there.
You tried to even your breathing, unclenching your fists. Once you’d relaxed enough to loosen your hands, you searched for some meditation music on Spotify.
And once you’d found a dreamy playlist, you laid back to feel it. Your goal: feel it enough to let go.
This time when you closed your eyes, you did it with less force and breathed in and out, in and out. Once again, everything was black. . . but just for the first minute or so.
It didn’t take long for you to hear the birds chirping and to feel the solid chest breathing beneath you. He breathed deeply – in and out, in and out, just as you did.
Almost as soon as you felt your body settle into him and the soft ground of the earth, you heard him speak, too. It was like you were hearing him through a rush of warm wind, a breeze drifting across your face. “You’re doing great, baby,” he soothed you in his velvety tone, running a sure hand through your hair, fingers tracing your scalp. You shivered, enjoying the wonderful feeling it gave you, all the way to the tips of your toes. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”
Further, you pushed into him, wanting to be as close to him as you could be. You wrapped your arms around him the best you could while laying down, needing to feel his body tightly against your own. When you did this, he wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you into him. Your round belly, pressed between the two of you, made your heart settle into a soothing thrum in your chest.
No other words were said as you laid there, the sky blue when you finally opened your eyes to the new place. The field of lavender, so lucious and smelling heavenly around you. The purple flower surrounding you smelled clean, peaceful, and a lot like. . . love. It was a strange idea that a flower would smell like love, but you’d come to associate it with someone who–.
Knock, knock, knock, knock.
Your eyes opened at a moment’s notice when you heard a knock on the front door. Somehow, the sound against the door managed to break you from your hypnotic-like reverie. The knocks weren’t small or soft thuds by any means, but it was odd that you’d heard them all the way through to your sacred place. All the way through your bedroom door. . .
Though, thankfully, after having a bit of time to visit the safest place your mind could conjure up, you were on the path to feeling fine again. So after laying in bed for a few more seconds, you got up and padded to the door in your fluffy socks.
Before you opened the door, you peeked through the peephole.
When you did, your eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. Your breathing evened out significantly for the first time since waking from your nap. And without any hesitancy, you unlatched the chain and unlocked the knob and deadbolt.
As soon as you opened the door, you were greeted by Jake, a very apologetic smile on his face. One of his hands covered his eyes in feigned embarrassment, making a slit in his fingers to look at you through them. His other hand was tucked in the front pocket of his black slacks.
He’d changed clothes after dropping you off.
Duh, he’d showered, y/n. He wouldn’t be wearing the same dirty clothes afterwards . . .
He was now dressed very nicely, his hair looking so healthy and full. A few strands were still damp here and there, from the shower you’d heard him start as you’d fallen asleep for your nap.
And goddamn. He smelled so fucking delicious – you could’ve melted into him.
Rather than focusing on the way the hints of sandalwood and vanilla in his cologne made you feel airy, you asked the question you couldn’t help but wonder. “Where is your key?”
A hint of a laugh was present in your tone as you crossed your arms over your boobs – which you noticed were slightly less sore than normal.
Pleasant surprise.
Oh, fuck. Your boobs. No bra. Only wearing a giant t-shirt and fuzzy socks. The thong you were wearing was a poor excuse at covering your ass.
Glancing down briefly, you were reassured by the length. It was long enough to fully cover your backside, went down your thighs a bit. . . but you still felt very bare.
When you looked up, you found that Jake had noticed your lack of clothing at the same time as you. His stare burned through your t-shirt, all the way down to your blushing skin. Your chest was heaving of its own accord, nipples hardening at the attention from him. . .
His gaze soon dropped down to your lips, his own parting as his tongue went to wet his mouth.
No. You had to be the responsible one here. You could do it.
So, you forced a subtle short cough, toes wiggling in your fuzzy socks. And, thankfully, it brought him back to the current situation.
His wide, brown eyes snapped to yours, staying there momentarily. It made your cheeks pink — the way he was unashamedly sharing this moment with you. He didn’t seem embarrassed at all as he bit his lip with a grin stretched over his lips.
Fuck.
“Your key?” You tried again with a squeak. Rolling your eyes, your short cough was real this time as you had to clear your throat. Ridiculous.
Not saying anything, he responded like nothing had occurred before. He motioned with his head towards the kitchen bar behind you. Your head turned to follow his eyes. And, you found his keys, still laying on the counter, not having been touched since before he left.
“Did Maya pick you up?” You asked him, arching a brow at the keys.
“Yes.”
“How’d you get back?” Okay, y/n, now’s not the time for twenty questions.
“Uber,” he simply answered, a little hiccup following the word.
“Well. . . did you come back for them to drive yourself?” You asked, turning back around to face him, hoping he wouldn’t say ‘yes’. You selfishly wanted him to stay.
For the first time since you’d woken up, your body felt light. . . . And, you’d noticed it had happened the exact moment you saw him outside your door.
Shaking his head, he finally looked at you head-on, and you could see his eyes were the slightest bit unfocused.
Oh. . . A smirk rested on your lips as you crossed your arms once more.
He had a goofy, carefree smile on his lips. And then you smelled it — the slightest tinge of alcohol on him as he swayed a bit towards you.
Raising a brow, your lips continued to match his grin. Giggling, you pondered aloud, “Did you have a drink or two, babe?”
You didn’t say that last word. Nope.
“Maaaaybe,” he said, shrugging with both hands in his pockets now, the silly smile still plastered to his lips. “It was a party, after all,” he tagged on to the end, a bit of a British lilt falling over his words.
A party. Hm. For some reason, you hadn’t even thought of that as a possibility. Why did the fact that it’d been a party make your stomach turn a little bit?��
“A party?” You inquired, tucking your arms a little closer against your chest. And there was the tenderness again.
“Maya’s baby sister— eight years younger than Maya,” he over-explained, tripping over himself a little as he made his way through the door without any warning. “Turned twenty one today.”
Oh, that explains the excessive drinking, you gathered mentally.
But, as you stood there connecting the dots, you didn’t focus enough on the fact that he was falling into you through the door frame. Thankfully, you put your arms out in time to stop him from bumping into you to the point of knocking you over. But when you put your arms out to stop his fall, he got the wrong idea and put his arms out as well, crashing into you a bit as he wrapped them around you in a secure embrace.
It took a bit for you to register what was happening as you stood in shock at the gentle gesture amidst his drunkenness. And while you were registering it all, he must’ve gotten the idea that you didn’t want him so close to you. So, very slowly, he pulled away.
Rather awkwardly, you just stood there, arms still held out in shock from the sudden hug.
Why were you surprised at all? He’d been like this recently – just today at counseling, he’d been extremely attentive, holding you when you’d needed him. . .
Was this time different? Was it because now he was doing it for virtually no reason at all? You weren’t in need of his help or his comfort (that he knew of) at the moment. And, he still wanted to hug you – that was what caught you completely off guard.
He’s drunk, y/n, a voice reminded you. Don’t overthink it. It’s just because he’s inebriated.
And while you stood in the doorway, he continued to traipse past you, body lopsided and shaky. He was being very careful to not bump into you again, turning his body in odd ways.
When you turned to observe him, as he made it past you, you noticed that in the process of trying to steer clear of you, he was losing his balance – quite quickly.
So, you did the only thing you could think to do and followed behind him to help however you could.
He wouldn’t remember it anyway.
When he started putting too much weight on one foot and started tilting a bit too far to the side, you acted on instinct.
You wrapped your arms around his midsection.
It proved to be a bit of a feat to keep him upright and on his feet, but you tried your hardest. The man was wonderfully built. . . but solid as a rock.
Has he been working out? You couldn’t help but wonder this as your arms pressed a bit more into his strong abdomen.
You realized that thought process could become a distraction to the task at hand in no time, so you put it to the back of your mind. Instead, you just put all of your concentration into helping him stay on the track he desired. . . . Which happened to be his bedroom.
While trying to keep him stable, you felt your belly press further into his back. The baby felt safer there, between the two of you. It felt right to be so close. . .
But, again, you focused on the important goal of getting Jake in bed. You just kept him pressed to you the best you could with a baby in the way. Matching his footing from behind, you walked in even step with him.
Once you were officially at his door, you reached around him to open his door for him. When your hand met the knob and twisted it, he reached forward, placing his hand over yours to open it with you. The gentle action made your skin flame.
Though, it didn’t last long. You didn’t pause, instead continuing into the room. And the moment you walked into the room, he tapped your arm, presumably to let you know he was okay on his own. So, you tentatively let go.
Your arms suddenly felt empty, but you didn’t want to overstay your welcome.
He seemed to be a little better now, sitting down on his bed. He did it with more effort than normally necessary, but he still seemed more capable than he’d been a few minutes ago.
So, without a word, you went to head out of his room. Right before you could walk out the door, though, you heard him from behind you.
“Where you going?” He asked sadly, sounding more like a neglected child than a grown man.
Turning around with a brow raised, you asked the question with your eyes before saying it aloud. “Why? You’re good now, right?”
His eyes zoned out momentarily on your face. You just blamed it on the alcohol, feeling woozy. When he came back to Earth, his eyes met yours. His eyes suddenly seemed much clearer than before. All of the air in your lungs evaporated at the look he was giving you. Desperation was the most fitting word for it.
“I’m not good without you,” he offered, his eyes darting to his feet almost directly after saying the words. He leaned down to sloppily take off his boots, but still neatly placed them next to his bed after taking them off.
It was honestly pretty funny to watch. You would’ve been more amused if your mind wasn’t still reeling a bit from his words. You zoned out on his guitar, placed neatly on its stand.
He. is. drunk, y/n, your internal heckler reminded you. Stop overthinking.
But. . . drunk words are honest –.
“Can you help?” Jake asked, sounding desperate while trying to achieve a task.
You looked over at him, finding him standing now and struggling to take off a necklace. Without argument, you left where you’d been standing, dejected and confused, by the doorway, to help him.
When you made it over to him, you tapped his hands where they struggled with the latch at the nape of his neck.
“Let me,” you insisted, replacing his hands with yours when he moved them.
Once the necklace was taken off, you made your way around him to place the jewelry on his bedside table, whose lamp bathed the room in golden light.
You glanced down at the necklace, running a finger down the face of the medallion. Medusa. That was who was etched into the gold metal.
“You into Greek mythology right now?” You questioned, peeking over your shoulder at him.
When you did, the sight that beheld you took you by total surprise. Shirtless. Shirt gone. No shirt. Jake, halfway naked.
“Oh,” you uttered the word in a moan more than anything else. You even felt your jaw drop the slightest bit. You didn’t really think anything of it. You didn’t really care to control your reactions. He wouldn’t remember any of this. You just kept telling yourself that.
And with the way the heat flooded from your head all the way to your chest, blossoming to the pit of your tummy – you didn’t think you could control your reactions. Then, when he absentmindedly adjusted himself in his pants. . . Yep.
You bit your lip, tucking hair behind your ear. Suddenly, you felt completely out of control of your body. . . Your hormones were calling the shots – they (and Jake) were making you feel unsteady in the best possible way.
The only downside was: there wasn’t anything you could do about it. Morals stood in the way of your bodies colliding and fucking it out.
You understood that the Jeep incident had happened. Of-fucking-course — there was no forgetting that shit. But a big part of you also thought it would be best to leave the other night in the Jeep in the past.
It wasn’t fair to anyone involved. Right?
So. . . You just focused on the present moment. No sex. Just Jake in front of you. Tried to ignore the surge of want for him at seeing half of him bare.
But goddamn — what a beautifully welcome sight. . .
His body had changed in the handsomest of ways. His thighs, as you’d noticed recently, were thicker than before. And he was. . . just broader than before. It started at the width of his shoulders, and worked down his abdomen to fill out with toned, tight muscle — his new addition of muscle was thick beneath the surface. There was just more of him altogether. The perfect amount of body for you to touch, kiss, lick. . . . . goddammit.
He still wasn’t looking at you, instead making his way to the laundry hamper across the room. You observed the way the muscle in his back flexed as he walked. The expanse of skin under his shoulder blades — his back was thick with new strength. . .What in the sweet hell?
When he carefully swiveled on his heel to make his way back to you, after tossing the shirt in the basket, you still didn’t take your eyes from him. Just admired the sight and the fact that watching him could be your own little secret. . .
A secret not even for Jake to know.
Though, as if on cue, his line of sight connected with yours. And when it did – damn. Your heart hammered hard in your chest. Your breath was trapped in your throat, all of it stolen from you.
His chocolate eyes, although hazy from alcohol, were so fucking dark. Dark in the same way they’d been in his Jeep last week.
He looked the same as he had right before you’d bent over his lap. The same way he’d eyed you as you’d been on top of him – licking him, sucking him, touching him. . .
So, instead of holding his eyes, you decided you had to look away before you made matters any worse than they were at the present moment.
Awkwardly, you started your next sentence without taking time to think about it. “You good now, Ja–?”
“What was your question?”
When he interrupted you, you wanted to look back at him. But you didn’t. Not with the way his voice was suddenly much fuller – deeper, raspier. . .
Coughing to mask any sort of embarrassing action, you tried your best to think back to what you’d asked. You couldn’t even remember. . . oh. Medusa. Pointless question. Didn’t matter.
“It was noth–.”
“I don’t care. Still wanna know.”
“Jake, it seriously doesn’t matt–.”
“Look at me, y/n,” he demanded, daring to be argued with. “Quit acting like we’re strangers.”
God. Your teeth found your lip, biting harder with a deep inhale. You let the plumpness of your bottom lip fall from your teeth with a tight exhale. Your tongue pressed into your cheek, eyebrows knit with frustration, when you peered up at him.
Fuck it all. This was why you hadn’t let yourself look at him.
His hungry eyes scanned your body when he got his way. He stood there admiring all of you, but his eyes were zeroed in on your ass, not leaving it.
You looked down to get an idea of what he was looking at.
And, to your horror, you noticed that the t-shirt had ridden up, completely exposing the bottom curve of your ass cheeks.
But, you didn’t move to change it. Instead, you decided to just stand there. Let him look. You wanted him to. This wouldn’t even count in the morning when he forgot it all.
You definitely weren’t offended by his staring. Not in the slightest. Just sort of made you nervous where things would lead if he didn’t stop observing the exposed skin.
Diversion.
“Jake,” you purposefully spoke his name, vying for his attention up top, rather than having his eyes on your ass.
You got your wish. Sort of. His eyes dragged from your ass to your thighs. . . Only to stop at your tits. Your skin was flushed and your skin was tingling. Your breasts, heavy under his stare and nipples tightly peaked against your oversized shirt.
Fuck. Your body really was your worst enemy — constantly gave you away. Pregnancy hormones were a pain in the ass.
So, you did the only thing you could think to do: you watched him watch you. The idea of his eyes burning into you without the ability to control it. . . It was almost too much for you to handle.
Then, he wet his lips, afterwards biting into his plump bottom lip. You might as well have been naked under his stare, completely at his mercy.
His gaze stayed consistent on your chest, residing long enough to have you feeling so desperately needy for him. . . but, eventually, his eyes moved up to your face.
You missed his stare on your body as soon as it was gone.
“You’re so fucking—goddamn,” he breathed, his expression still dazed. But, now it was from more than alcohol. Maybe not from alcohol at all. “Do you know how good you look carrying my baby?”
Your head became a flurried mess at his words, the feeling carrying all the way down to your toes.
“Jake,” you tried, not sure what else to say besides his name.
But he didn’t respond with words. No, all he did was walk closer to you, still half-dressed. Seeing so much of his body made you feel so utterly pathetic for him.
In a split second, before you could even wrap your mind around it, his hands found your waist. A soft, yet firm hold of your body. His eyes were locked on your parted lips, his face slowly leaning in and coming dangerously close to your own.
And just as he was with you, your eyes found his lips, plush and wet from his tongue gliding over them. So kissable. All you wanted, all you needed, was to feel them collide with yours. To taste him again, to savor the sweetness that you knew to be Jake.
He was so close that you could smell the bitter remnants of alcohol on his breath. His breath, that felt so warm against your flushed skin. You couldn’t help it as you slowly let yourself lean into him. All too well, you knew how wrong it was. . . Yet, you were having the worst time finding it within yourself to care any longer.
Amber-brown eyes flicked up to yours, golden flecks glowing from the dim yellow lamp lighting. Your own eyes were wide under your fluttering lashes.
The drunkenness wasn’t as prevalent in his stare as it had been before. This felt so eerily intimate — like it had happened before. You couldn’t fucking shake the feeling this moment was giving you. The dim lighting. Him so close to you—tempting you. . .
For some reason, your eyes fluttered down between the two of you to your small, rounded tummy.
Jake’s lips brushed your forehead with the action, his hand coming to tuck hair behind your ear.
Your belly—it was nestled so well in the middle of your bodies, brushing up against his firm stomach. Protected.
And then a memory, clear now, came rushing back to you. It was coming out of the shadows, having been foggy and faded, but not anymore.
The only place to go was your room, your door ajar just enough that it opened easily on its own. Jake had reached a hand behind him to close it gently– not wanting to wake anyone.
Your lamp, still left on, just as it had been earlier in the evening, shed the perfect amount of golden glow.
You’d grabbed his face, pulling him away from you momentarily to appreciate his features. Finally out of the dark you could look at him.
And, God, you loved his face. Everything about it, having been so intricately and delicately created — making the most beautiful man you’d ever laid eyes on.
A quiet smirk had graced Jake’s perfect lips, his eyes tightly locked with yours.
“What’s the matter?” He’d asked, his hushed, now-sultry voice making your need for him that much more heightened.
You thought a moment before you answered.
With all of your feelings for him finally becoming realized in your own mind, there was just so much you felt you needed to say. So much you needed him to know.
As you’d stared in his sparkling eyes, pupils pure black from the weed and his need for you, the only word your mind could conjure up was love. Over and over again. Not just the word, but the feeling; the new desire for him that went far beyond the purely physical one that you’d tried so hard to convince yourself of.
But it wasn’t new; it had been clear all along. You’d just shoved it down to the deepest trenches of your mind, only to be discovered by the most skilled explorer.
There was so much you had wanted to say, but you just couldn’t conjure the proper words.
You decided your body could do all the talking. It could say more than your voice ever could.
“Nothing,” you’d whispered against his lips as you pulled him in for the deepest kiss you were certain the two of you had ever shared with one another.
You gasped as you looked up at him. The night you’d conceived—.
“Y/n, sweet girl,” Jake’s smoky voice brought your attention back to the situation. You let your body melt into his even more, needing him near.
The reality of it all suddenly began to set in when his hands, slow and steady in their pace, moved up your waist. Strong hands now moving under your shirt, set in their direction of ascension. They came to a steady stop just beneath the curve of your tender breasts.
“You know,” he breathed, breath washing over your lips. You blinked up at him, at his mercy. “I wanna do so much more than just hold your pretty tits,” he whispered, his lips brushing ever so lightly against yours. “How do they feel?”
“H-heavy,” you stuttered, shivering against his touch while his thumbs met at your sternum, tracing delicate patterns.
His palms suddenly dropped from beneath your shirt. You sucked in a breath, whining as your breasts pushed out for more. Your skin begged for his touch, on fire for him.
Before long, though, his hands came back to their spot over the fabric of the t-shirt this time.
And, over your shirt, he cupped as much of your chest as he could, keeping you in his hold as he gently massaged.
Stars. You saw so many stars.
“But, not—not as sore tonight,” you sighed, settling into his grasp. There were no worries evident to you right now.
All that mattered was Jake and his searing hot touch.
You felt him smile as close as he was, his lips almost connecting with yours as you fought back every desire to kiss him. “Yeah?” He whispered again, raspier, while his thumbs lightly grazed your hardened nipples through your shirt, your breath catching in your throat. “What do you need right now, baby?”
The moan that escaped your lips should have been embarrassing. But it wasn’t. Not at all. It fit quite well with the way his fingers continued in their path over your nipples, circling them. He was stealing every bit of air left in your lungs, making your eyes roll back in your head.
“Tell me, baby,” he growled, lips touching yours with each word.
Closing your eyes and biting your bottom lip, you answered silently. You, Jake. I fucking need you.
He returned to his grip underneath your breasts, over the shirt still, cradling them so well. . . Your body just fit with his. The touch of his hands cured even the most uncomfortable changes in your body.
You whined, not able to help the effect he was having on you and your aching body. “Jake, I need–.” Fuck.
No. This was wrong. He was drunk. Odds were, he wouldn’t remember this. You were the one letting it happen, letting it get much further than it should have.
“Tell me, y/n,” he repeated, brushing his thumbs once again over your taut nipples with more intent this time as your body began to tremble. “Tell me what I can do for you–.”
“I’m hungry,” you muttered out of nowhere, shaking your head as you effectively interrupted him. You pulled away, getting yourself out of another situation that could turn sticky real fast. (Yes, pun intended.)
And you really were very hungry. Hadn’t eaten for hours. So, it was the perfect mood killer.
“O-oh, yeah,” he breathily spoke, eyebrows dipping in just a bit as he dropped his stare. His long hair waved out around his shoulders when he shook his head. The sound of inebriated haziness was evident in his tone still, but you could tell he was quickly coming back to himself.
And that also terrified you. The moment just now. . . Had that brought him back? You’d seen his eyes brighten when you’d leaned into him.
He went to move past you, his body nearly meeting yours. You put out a hand, millimeters away from his heaving chest. But you couldn’t touch him yet. Not yet. Had to clear your mind.
“Want me to make something for you?” He wondered, sounding ready to help even amidst his tipsy state.
“I can do it,” you assured him with a small sigh and grin. “I’m capable.”
“You sure?”
“More than.”
Your eyes held one another’s for a heavy minute. He was trying to make sure you were being honest, you could tell.
You just encouraged him to believe your statement with a little pat to his warm, bare chest. Shit.
You had to go. Get out of the room. Make some damn food.
But he was right there. . .
No.
You quickly took your hand away before he could do something like hold it there. He didn’t get the chance, thanks to your reflexes.
Your hands interlocked under your belly as you peeked up at him through your lashes. “I promise. I do things for myself all the time. Please let me.”
“You don’t have to ask for–,” hiccup, the sobriety still not fully present. He held a fist over his mouth, trying to be polite. Your smile met your eyes, so gone for him. . . “For my permission, y/n. Seriously. I just want to help you however I–,” hiccup, his eyes bugged a little. The giggle that came from you couldn’t be stopped. “ I can. Jesus.”
“Go to sleep,” you tried, wracking your brain for the best possible plan for him to feel better. “I’ll be okay.”
“Nah. Not yet. Wanna take a shower first,” he iterated, eyebrows drawn together with the sureness of his plan. “It’ll help.”
“Okay,” you smiled, inhaling a breath before shaking your head and moving to open his door.
Rather than letting you get it, he raised his arm above your head, holding the door to do the job himself. You watched as he opened it wider, seeing his bicep flex with the action above your head. He’d opened it just enough for you to exit.
You connected eyes with his, looking at him over your shoulder.
The grin that lifted your features occurred on its own. Everything he did was making you swoon. The fucker.
He snickered a bit at you, his teeth coming to show past his pretty lips. Dimples fully present with his knowing smile. “Go eat,” he motioned with his other hand before stepping towards you, planning to exit behind you. “My baby momma needs sustenance.”
-🌼🌼🌼-
About forty-five minutes passed.
You’d eaten an entire box of macaroni and cheese. The noodles and yellow-y, plastic cheese weren’t making you want to gag anymore. Thank god, because it really was quite delicious.
Now, to wash your dishes and go to bed.
You’d just heard the shower shut off about ten minutes prior to the moment you heard footsteps approach in the doorway to the kitchen.
Jake.
“Will you come sleep with me?”
You spun to give him a questioning look from over your shoulder that held a million questions.
“Wh-what?” You stilled your task of washing the bowl you’d had your quick meal of macaroni and cheese in.
But, now, you weren’t thinking of mac and cheese. No, now you were thinking of what he just said.
When you’d looked over your shoulder at him, your eyes stuck naturally on the man standing at the doorway of the kitchen. The gesture that was meant to be quick, definitely turning into a whole-ass Jake Appreciation Fest.
Just like earlier that evening, there he was. Shocking every nerve in your system.
Pajama pants, slung low on his hips. . . his handsomely tanned and toned chest, still bare. His wet hair, laying on his pecs, dripping water onto each muscle. The drops of water made their way down his hard nipples, probably chilly from his shower, down his sculpted obliques and solid abdomen. . .
. . . And down, past the waistband of his plaid pajama pants. Your favorite ones.
The pursuit you took with your line of sight was unstoppable. You had to know if he was wearing them. . . And, to your complete gladness, you saw just enough of an outline of him as he leaned his weight on one foot. . . That was all it took to know. . .
“No, I’m not wearing underwear,” he smugly remarked.
His tone and words made your heart flutter and your cheeks become the deepest shade of crimson. Fuck. He’d caught you.
Deciding to ignore his little remark, you went back to washing the dish, still being held over the sink. In a much looser grip thanks to his comment. Gripping the dish tighter, you put all of your spinning nerves into washing it properly. You fumbled a little, but hoped he didn’t notice.
“What did you mean before? About sleeping together?” You tried, working to maintain enough attention on the dish that you wouldn’t drop it against the sink and break the thin Corelle.
“Just sleep,” he emphasized with a chuckle, sounding more and more like himself the longer he stood there. “Nothing more. Cross my heart.”
“Oh,” you offered lamely, heart thumping a hundred miles an hour in your chest, boobs suddenly aching for. . . Fuck.
Why was he asking you to simply sleep with him? What the hell?
God. . .
Should you? Was it a good idea? Well, no. You could answer that. It wasn’t a good idea. At all.
But. . . should you go lay with him? Maybe fall asleep in his arms. . . Would it help you sleep easier after your short, uneasy rest from earlier in the evening?
Shit.
You knew the answer. Knew the answer very well. Even before EMDR, when the bad dreams would occur, they were always better – tamed, happy, or gone completely – when you slept in the same bed as Jake.
“Yeah,” you said, not taking any more time to contemplate. “I will.”
“Alright,” he replied, sounding relieved behind you. Why did he sound so happy? Surely it wasn’t that big of a deal to him. He still had alcohol in his system. That explained it.
You rinsed the rest of the bubbles from the bowl when you heard him speak up again.
“Want me to wash it?”
“N-no,” you stuttered nervously and shook your head, focusing on the sudsy dish. “I’ve got it.”
“Okay. You full? Get enough to eat?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” he answered, the smile evident in his tone. “Don’t take too long.”
“I won’t,” you reassured, willing your pulse to return to normal.
And, seconds later, you were hearing his footfalls against the carpet as he made his way back to his room.
Well.
Finishing the job of the bowl, – taking much longer than needed – you contemplated.
You guessed his tone was still a little wavy, but you knew better than to think he was still drunk.
He definitely wasn’t.
Had the shower helped that much? Had it been the moment in his room? Both combined?
After the equally clean saucepan was put away in the drawer below the oven, you dragged your feet a bit more as you went to check on Stevie and put some more food in her dish. When her tail swished across your calves, you felt a bit of calmness return to you.
Your heart was still thrumming in your chest. But you were able to slow your thoughts down enough to feel more at peace as you took notice of yourself in your full-body mirror.
Damn. . .oooo-kay, y/n. . .
Why did you suddenly feel completely confident in your body? You turned, getting every angle.
It just felt so great to not doubt your appearance. It was just like last Monday. You could get used to this feeling.
Your boobs looked fantastic and big under your gray t-shirt, nipples peaked as they most-often were these days. Your ass looked perfectly rounded out from the way it peeked out of your soft shirt. . . And, lifting your t-shirt, you looked at the little bump of your tummy.
The best addition to the entire look. Your grin was natural as you admired your baby. . .
Your tummy was growing steadily as you still sat on the bigger side of pregnant bellies. Your bump wasn’t a little subtle thing. No, it was an obviously pregnant belly.
Small, but definitely still noticeable. And it was just cute as hell.
After rubbing a gentle hand over the expanse of skin on your belly, you pulled your shirt back down over it.
And with a final fluff of your hair, you grabbed your Stanley from the nightstand before making your way to where you’d find sleep tonight.
You were just going to get good rest for your baby. It was for the baby.
That was what you worked to convince yourself of as you walked with quiet purpose to his bedroom.
-🌼🌼🌼-
“Why did you come home?”
You were laying in his bed. Just like old times.
Except, in the past, where you would’ve most likely been naked, you were not tonight.
Everything else though? Same as always.
Your legs were tied into his, looped around his just right, playing footsie with him beneath the covers. Your head rested on his bare chest, your hand underneath your cheek as it laid so perfectly well on his exquisitely strapped pecs.
Oh, also. . . One more thing different than before: the bump. The baby, tucked snugly against his side where you were turned into him.
It was heaven. That was what it was.
A yawn emitted from deep in his chest. You knew sleep was finding him faster than you would’ve liked. Naturally, a little yawn found you as well.
Sighing heavily to follow the yawn, you felt his hand that laid above you come to comb through the strands of your hair. “I don’t like being away from you.”
Your heartbeat was heavy in your ears – did your best to ignore it.
“Was Maya mad?”
“Yeah.”
“Jake,” you scolded, for no reason. You didn’t give two shits about how she felt. But. . . you did care about his happiness – didn’t want to ruin his relationship when it made him feel happy and whole.
“She’ll get over it,” he reassured with another yawn that lifted your cheek with his rising chest. “She was drunker than I was.”
“Are you still drunk?” You pondered aloud with a yawn and a giggle, naturally emitting in his presence.
But. . . you knew better. Didn’t even have to ask. It just made all of this more understandable if he were to still be drunk. It made this easier to submit to.
You didn’t know why the prospect of simply laying beside him was harder to come to terms with than having his dick in your mouth. Just like it’d been a week ago.
Your cheeks heated at the thought. Of its own volition, your thigh came to momentarily graze past his crotch.
“Not really,” he answered, sounding a touch offended that you’d even asked. “Pretty sober now, honestly.”
The more coherent he sounded, the more intimidated you became. . .
Best to let him find sleep. You’d answer to this in the morning. . . For now, your eyelids were getting heavier and heavier by the moment.
“I believe you,” you settled with a contented yawn of your own, nestling into his chest. Couldn’t help it. Had to be closer.
You blinked, slower and slower. So sleepy — just felt so right in his arms. His hand came to hold the base of your skull as a thumb traced your head so lightly.
Goosebumps rose on your skin from his precious gesture. . . It felt so damn incredible.
“You should,” he iterated, his lips coming to meet the crown of your head, giving you a feather-light kiss.
And, within a minute, he was lightly snoring.
It took almost no time at all for you to follow him to slumber.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Just like you would’ve guessed, the bad dreams didn’t come that night.
. . .Because Jake made everything better. That was just it.
-🌼🌼🌼-
December 16, 2022
As you sat in the waiting room, you surveyed him and noticed he wasn’t wearing the Medusa medallion. The newer one you’d noticed on Monday.
“No Medusa?” You questioned, at a decent enough volume to not disturb the few other mothers and fathers in the waiting room. He flicked his amber-brown gaze over to you, caught in a trance by the beautiful, light decor of the clinic.
Once he looked at you, his eyebrows only dipped at your words, not understanding. You motioned to his neck with a slight flick of your wrist. “Your Medusa medallion. I noticed it the other night.”
He snorted, lips quirking in a small grin with a shake of his head. “That was a stupid gift I got from Maya’s little sister,” he explained, scratching the back of his head.
“Jake,” you disciplined his words, but you couldn’t help the tiny giggle that slipped past your lips. It was kind of funny that he found it stupid.
“What?!” He turned to you, a full smile on his face. You raised a faux disappointed brow at him and he contended that with his next remark, “Okay, yes, I know I shouldn’t call it stupid. Maya said it’s because of her sister’s little crush on me. . . But it was kind of funny that she showed up with it at her birthday party, for one,” he explained, crossing his legs at the knee. “And for two, Medusa? A Greek goddess? Since when is that my primary interest?”
You shrugged at that, a small smile stuck to your features. He was adorable.
He continued on, “For some reason, Maya struggles to differentiate between pirates and mythology. . . and no matter how many times I explain they’re different, she doesn’t catch on to it.”
He shook his head, tousling a hand through his long, wavy hair as he placed the other hand on his knee. His rings weren’t present today, so you got to truly appreciate the curvatures of his tanned, masculine hands.
“You should still acknowledge that Maya’s sister’s–what’s her name?”
“Kaia. K-a-i-a. . . Different from Maya’s by two letters. Sound the same, though,” he snickered.
Kaia and Maya. . . so they’re a rhyming name family. For some reason, the thought made you snort a laugh, a grin claiming your lips.
“I know,” Jake said, a little humorous in his own tone. “Kaia and Maya. Can we agree to not name our kids rhyming names?”
Our kids? As in, more than the one in your belly?
You took note of him and his reaction to his mistake, watched the way his eyes continued scanning the walls of the white and blush waiting room.
He seemed to not notice his mess up, still going about his business as usual. His foot tapped against the bamboo flooring to the beat of the classic rock radio station playing.
You decided to ignore his words. It had been a slip up. Just like your own slip up in the car the other day.
You, speaking of love.
Jake, mentioning multiple kids.
You both were just in a state of stress with the life change. . . it wasn’t anything. Just a couple mis-worded moments.
You continued on, looking down at your belly briefly, smoothing your hands down your sweater to flatten any weird lines. “. . .Kaia’s sentiment was kind. Her little crush is sweet,” you iterated, sounding more like a mom everyday. “I hope you told her thank you.”
He chuckled, raspy and light, at you. Switching your line of sight up to him, you saw his eyes read a sense of fondness as he cast his gaze on you.
“I did,” he smirked, winking at you. Your tummy fluttered with butterflies. “You are going to be a fantastic mom, y/n. I’ve known it for a long time and I know it more and more with your little coaching moments.”
Your heart went crazy at the thought of him imagining you as a fantastic mother. And he’d known it for a long time? How long? What did that mean?
“Thanks, Jake,” you blushed a light pink, matching the colors of the crepe walls. There was one more thing you wanted to say though.
“However,” you cleared your throat, glancing at him momentarily from the corner of your eye. He was heeding you, brow arched as he waited for your next words.
“I can’t say anything to excuse Maya’s non-acknowledgment at the obvious contrasts of pirates and mythology. They are two completely different beasts,” you emphasized, turning your full attention to him. He was still watching you. The flush was back in your cheeks. “I’ve seen enough of your documentaries about pirates and I’m an English major, for God’s sake. . . so I know these things.”
The way his features brightened was precious – like he was being seen.
And he was seen. He would always be seen if you had anything to say about it.
Also, you did know the difference, you weren’t lying. None of what you said was a lie. You’d said what you did because you needed him to know that you understood. His interests mattered to you and they should to Maya as well. They should matter to her more-so.
The moment was cut off quite quickly, though, as you were hearing your name being called to the back for your appointment.
You were about to see your baby again. With Jake. And you’d know by the end of the hour if it was a boy or girl. . .
The blood was pumping in your ears as Jake fell in step beside you on the way to the back. You smiled up at him, where you were met with his sparkling eyes. Both of you were obviously giddy with eagerness and excitement.
Your thoughts were filled with everything that was to come. All sunshine and pale colors – so much love.
Here we go. . .
-🌼🌼🌼-
a/n: ...i wonder if you can guess the name/gender after this chapter part... ;) see you soon (next part is almost finished, my loves) :) feel free to always come to my ask box or message box! i'm always down to talk when my adhd/anxiety doesn't attack me <3
ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts! love youuuu <3
& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)
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@torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98, @mackalah, @lek-gvf, @carlyfleet, @profitofthedune, @mefiorini, @welllauragvf, @highway-tuna, @dont-go-home-without-me, @sarah-gvf01, @polemicandcontent, @ageofbajabule, @texas-bbq-pringles, @builtbybrokenbells, @stardustjake, @indigostreaksolo, @tripthelightfantastix, @kiszkas-canvas, @jakebrainrot, @anthemheatwave
#jake kiszka x reader#jake kiszka fic#jake kiszka fanfic#jake fic#my fics#covet#chapter 11 might be a top three fav chapter for me...#part 3 is when some shit goes downnn#ruh roh#hehe
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Give Me What I want
Pairing: Steven Grant x F!reader
Summary: Steven acts like a brat all day, leading to a much deserved punishment. Left unsatisfied, Steven decides take what he wants.
Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+ ONLY, no use of y/n, Dom/ Sub dynamics, Brat/Needy Steven, teasing, face-sitting, punishment, dirty talk, degradation, hair pulling, cnc (kind of??),unprotected p in v, creampie (Let me know if I missed anything :))
Word Count: 2.2k
A/N: Not only is this the first piece of smut I've ever written but also my first try at writing a fic in general so I would love some feedback. I definitely need some more practice but I really enjoyed writing this so I hope you enjoy it as well :)
There are so many things about Steven that you admire. His intelligence, his kindness, his generosity, how passionate he is. The list goes on forever, but there is one trait that Steven does not possess, however, and that is patience. He doesn't have it in his everyday life, and he seriously struggles with it in the bedroom. On days when Steven is really needy, and he can't have you or you make him wait, he becomes like a whiny child, pushing your buttons until he gets what he wants.
Today was one of those days. Steven was having a rough day at work and all he wanted was to see you and he couldn't. So, when he came home, he was already in a funk, immediately grabbing at you and demanding your full attention. Unfortunately, you had an appointment you absolutely could not miss. But you assured him that once you got home you would take care of him, knowing his day left him stressed and in need of some love.
This offer did little to quell his frustration and he begged you to let him come with. You explained to him that he would be bored out of his mind and that it'd be better for him to stay here and distract himself, but he wouldn't listen. So, the entire car ride there he was trying to grab at you, complaining about not being close enough and when you scolded him, he would huff and pout, then quickly resume his antics. He didn't stop even after you had both returned home and were eating the takeout you grabbed on your way back.
"Stop it Steven, I'm serious. Let me eat. I know you haven't eaten today either so please, finish your food."
And he gives you that look that he is constantly giving you, his eyes glaring and his lips pouting. It's usually endearing but you had reached the end of your rope with him today and were starting to get annoyed.
"What are you, my mother?" he mumbles as he looks back down at his plate. You're not sure if he meant for you to hear that but you definitely did.
"Excuse me?"
"C'mon, I'm not hungry. You know what I want. Now give it to me." He adds a quick 'please' after he sees the look on your face.
He knows he's pushing his luck, but he hopes you'll understand his situation and let it slide. But you had had enough. He had been whining and complaining all evening and gave you attitude each time you called him out on it. You had planned to spend the evening taking care of him, showering him with love and affection while you you ride him until he can't think straight, the way you know always helps him relax, but now you've decided he needs to learn to control himself.
" You need an attitude adjustment. Clean up the plates and go lay on the bed." You toss your fork down and head into the bedroom. He knows what's coming so he drags on in the kitchen, slamming the dishes in the sink and basically throwing a fit. Once he enters, knowing what you expected from him, he takes off his clothes and lays down. You slide the rope onto each of his wrists and tie them individually to each bed post. You do the same to his ankles. You sit in front him on the bed, having discarded your clothes as well.
"You need to learn some patience. I was going to be so sweet to you tonight. What a shame." You drag your nails softly up his thighs and continue up his stomach, not even coming close to his hardening member. He huffs, having already reached his limit and his frustration was becoming overwhelming. If you look close enough you could almost see some tears welling in his eyes. He wants so badly to feel the warmth of your hand squeeze him and relieve the ache between his legs. But you continue your slow, feather light touches up and down his body, avoiding his favorite areas on purpose.
You hadn't even given him a kiss yet. As your face hovers over his, pulling back as he tries to chase your lips, a growl emanates from deep within his chest.
" I've held on long enough. Give it to me." He demanded. No 'please' this time, in fact no pleading in his voice at all. This was supposed to be a punishment for the attitude he was giving you earlier and he clearly hadn't fixed it.
"Tsk tsk tsk…that mouth of yours. I'm tired of hearing it." You climb up him, moving to hover over his face.
"Let's put it to good use." As you go to lower yourself onto his mouth you hear, "Took you long enough…" mumbled from beneath you, his warm breath fanning over your thighs.
Even now he still wants to talk back. An idea pops into your head and you quickly turn around so you're facing the other way. Before he can ask what you're doing, you drop yourself down onto his mouth, muffling him. You let out a satisfied sigh.
"Finally, found a way to shut you up." You slowly start to grind against his mouth, loving the fact that he went right for your clit. You feel him hum against you, sending a vibration straight to your core. He pulls on his restraints, wanting desperately to touch you. No way in hell was that happening, not after everything he's done. He's lucky you don't just leave him tied to the bed to suffer with nothing.
You decide this isn't punishment enough, he's clearly enjoying it, seeing as he's still hard. You lean forward and he grunts, assuming you're going to take him in your mouth. Instead, you dig your nails into his thighs and spit right on his dick. Hard and fast. He groans into you, and you do it again, this time letting it fall onto his tip slowly and it dribbles down onto his stomach.
He starts lapping at you faster, making you whimper as you grow closer to your release. He bucks his hips up into the air as much as he can with his ankles tied down, silently begging for any sort of stimulation. You alternate between scratching and biting around his thighs and lower stomach, making sure to reach everywhere except the one place Steven wants most.
Just as you're about to cum, you pull yourself fully upright grabbing onto his hair, riding his face through the waves of pleasure. Then, too soon for Steven's liking, you lift off him and make your way around the bed and untie him.
"You can finish yourself off." you say without even looking back at him and head to the bathroom to grab a wet washcloth to clean him off when he's finished.
You hear nothing but the sound of running water, finding it a bit odd with the absence of his usual desperate whimpers and moans. Fixing your hair in the mirror, you turn to leave and head back to the bedroom. But just as you enter the hall, you feel a body push you hard against the wall, holding you by the shoulders. You let out a startled gasp as you look up and see Steven with a feral look in his eyes.
"That wasn't very nice." He snarls, eyes going back and forth between your eyes and your lips.
"You were misbehaving all day, Steven. You needed to be punished. Now let me go or I'll bend you over the bed and spank your ass raw." You threaten, although your ragged breathing drowns out the edge to your voice that you're trying to maintain.
"You're going to give me what I want." he says with such a sense of entitlement that you curse yourself for getting turned on by it.
You don't respond, deciding you're going to let him take it. You guys had sat down to talk a while ago and decided to implement a sort of 'take what you want when you want' agreement. Up until now, Steven had avoided taking advantage of it when you were in a more dominant mood, knowing him making a move on you or touching without permission almost always ended in a punishment. But for whatever reason Steven decides in this moment he simply doesn't care. He wants to be inside you so he's going to, despite what consequences he may face later. You also both have a safe word, so you know that the second you said it he'd immediately back off.
But you had no intention of using it. As much as his attitude and disobedience could sometimes frustrate you, the way he's acting right now has your cunt dripping wet. You don't let it show on your face though, still wanting him to know he's breaking the rules, but he takes your silence as a go ahead. He flips you around and presses your chest up against the wall as he holds you close to him, pushing himself inside you in one quick motion.
He slips in easily and starts rocking back and forth, thrusts already sloppy from how worked up you got him earlier. He grunts into your ear, and his shoulders relax at the relief he's been waiting for all day. You let out some wanton moans of your own but try to suppress them the best you can. You want Steven to know that he has made the conscious decision to make this about him and his carnal needs only. It's hard though, as the thought of him using you to get off stokes the fire in the pit of your stomach.
You start to feel your legs weaken underneath you. He notices, and pulls you away from the wall and drags you to the floor. With his chest is flush to your back, he grinds into you with short but incredibly deep thrusts. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and he whines into your shoulder.
"God, you're so warm. I was thinking about this all day. Having to excuse myself multiple times just to try and get myself under control. Didn't want people to know how worked up I was just at the thought of you." He licks a strip up your neck, savoring the taste of you.
"I swear, there were points in the day I even thought I smelled you. That sweet scent you give off seems stuck in my brain, love. It made me lightheaded, didn't hear a single thing anyone was saying to me." His face remains cradled in your neck as he takes deep breaths in, finally getting a whiff of the real thing. As he takes you all in, he's invading your senses as well, making it impossible to silence your grunts and moans anymore. Your breathing has become uneven and each thrust punches a small whimper out of you.
"Fuck, I'm so close, love." He feels each time you squeeze around him, making it hard for him to hold on any longer.
He tries chasing his release, but he's missing your usual words of praise. There is no 'Good boy' or 'you're doing so well for me Steven' which usually leads to his undoing.
You sense this, but instead of giving it to him you turn your head and yank his hair. Now face to face, you grunt, "You think you can just take whatever you want? You're such a desperate whore. Can't even take your punishment without complaint, selfish brat. You're a bad boy, Steven. A bad boy." Your words are followed by a sharp inhale as you feel the coil in your stomach about to snap.
Your degrading words and the pressure of you tugging on his curls launches him over the edge. His movements become frantic, and he moans into your ear with a sob, spilling into you. He feels incredibly deep at this angle and the desperation in his movements brings you to your release.
You clench down hard onto him. His moans turn to whines from the overstimulation, but he waited so long for this he doesn’t want to stop. So, he lays there on top of you, jolting into you every so often as you both experience the aftershocks of your peaks.
When he finally pulls out, and you both sigh. He leans back on his haunches, still trying to steady his breathing. Once you recover, you turn to face him as a small smile appears on his face. He thanks you over and over, clearly thinking that he had received a proper punishment and that he was in the clear. He crawls over to you, and you pull him in, planting a soft kiss on his lips before pulling back quickly and standing up, much to his dismay.
"I hope you enjoyed it, because you're not touching me for a week. Not after that little charade." His face falls, and you smirk, hopefully that will teach him a lesson. Although you had thoroughly enjoyed it, he still disobeyed you. And to be honest, you wouldn't mind seeing him that desperate for you again.
Leaving him speechless, you head to the bathroom to draw him a bath.
#moon knight#steven grant#steven grant x reader#steven grant smut#moon knight smut#Steven Grant#marc spector#jake lockley
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i was watching Gilmore girls at the beginning of the year i think and then i suddenly got the urge to watch again, so i'm finally on the last episode of season 2. Im completely in love with Tristan but at the moment i'm loving jess (i also searched up jess edits on tiktok and i've spoiled things for myself so i will be debating on skipping that one scene)
Also Ik this is not the best but I hope u guys like it
Warnings— none
Summary— Jess is turning into a great student and Luke not lorelai can think of a reason he’s become an amazing kid all of a sudden.
The library
Two full weeks, two full weeks had gone by now and no calls from the school had been made to Luke's phone. This was more concerning than actually getting calls from the school. And another notable thing was that Jess started leaving every day at the same time 6:30 and he'd come back home at 9:30 or even earlier.
Luke was getting suspicious but he didn't exactly know how to bring it up since it was very possible he was cheating on his tests, maybe copying off some one else for work. So he decided he'd mention it another day, and every time that decided day came by he'd put it off again, and again.
the two of them were in the diner, it was surprisingly very quiet, there was only one person which was also surprising and then the person walked out. Jess started cleaning up the table before checking his watch.
6:15
He dropped the towel and rushed upstairs, he came back down with a backpack, had he been hiding that thing?
"where are you goin?" Luke asked, finally looking up from the counter “somewhere.” “what do you have in there?” “some things” he shrugged and opened the door, before he could even get one foot out the door he could hear Luke’s heavy steps get closer to him, he turned around again.
“What do you have in there” Luke said again, “why do you wanna know, it’s nothing important” Jess rolled his eyes and checked his watch again.
6:20
“I’ve never even seen you come outside with a backpack, and I need to know if you’re stealing things again” Luke gave him an annoyed stare, Jess unzipped the the bag and showed the books in his backpacks.
“Oh” Luke muttered, and looked over to the side “happy? Cause I need to get going” he zipped the bag up again. “where have you been going?” Luke sighed, it was time he got the truth.
“why do you wanna know?” Jess rolled his eyes again, “because I gotta know these things” another sigh came out of Luke, and Jess mumbled something. It took a good few minutes to get him to admit.
“I’m goin to the library”
He said it quietly but at least it was coherent.
———
“You’re late” you smiled as Jess sat down in front of you, “I know, I’m sorry, Luke wouldn’t let me go until I told him where I was going and what I was bringing” he smiled back at you and took out his books. “well, you’re here now, that’s what matters to me, now what’s today? math?” You smiled again and the two of you started opening your books.
“Today is math day” jess nodded and started reading your math notes.
———
“Jess, in the library? Is he meeting behind it and doing something?” Lorelai drank her coffee, “I didn’t think about that” Luke said as he gave her a doughnut.
The moment very quickly ended when Jess came in and quickly went upstairs without saying a word, Luke and Lorelai could hear the thud from Jess’s backpack hitting the floor.
Jess came back down and grabbed a doughnut; pink icing. Very weird to the two adults in the diner. Unknowing to them the only reason he grabbed it was because you swore that the pink icing on the doughnuts taste different.
———
“So anything new and interesting happening?” You asked as you and Jess walked around after studying, it was the quickest you’ve ever studied but that was because it was English, all jess had to do was read and write some answers.
“no, but, if you call getting a new shipments for the diner interesting, than yes, there something new happening” he smiled at you, “sounds very interesting” you smiled back at him.
“what about you?” Jess turned to you again “what about me? Nothing” you shrugged “cmon there’s gotta be something that’s happened so far this week” Jess said, “there’s nothing, nothings happened, and im 100 percent sure nothings gonna happen” you smiled again at him.
He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and smiled “how about I give you something to look forward to then since you’re free” Jess’s brows perked up, “really? how?” your hand reached up and grabbed his that was on your shoulder.
“how bout you, me, and chinese food, and we can do it on, Friday? You said your parents are leaving on Friday right?” He smiled as you two got closer to Luke’s diner.
“yeah, my parents are going on Friday.. that sounds like a plan” you smiled “it’s a date” he smiled. “Cmon I’ll walk you home” he walked past the diner “thanks Jess” you wrapped your arm around his waist as the two of you continued you way down the street.
-
“Did I see that right?” Lorelai’s eyes were wide and her brows were furrowed, “wow” Luke said, it was the only thing that could be uttered at the moment as they had just seen; You and Jess walking together.
“That must be why he’s going to the library so much! y/n’s always at the library!” Her mouth hung open in shock, it was silent for a few moments “y’know what, this is good” like said as he nodded while drinking his coffee.
“This is good?” She looked at him confused, “yes, he’s doing good in school, and it seems like he really likes y/n, as long as he isn’t hurting her, or doing bad things than I’m happy about this” Luke smiled “I guess this is good..” Lorelai smiled back at him.
———
#imagines#x reader stories#fluff#jess mariano#gilmore girls#gilmore girls imagine#jess mariano x reader#jess mariano x y/n#jess mariano x you
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School Kid Crush
*A/N okay so this is the first thing I've wrote since I was like 18 writing about one direction so I'm sorry if its complete dog shit. I tried and kinda want to make it a series maybe if people actually like it but yeah be easy on me pls*
From the moment that I met Spencer Agnew on my very first day at Smosh as the new Games PA, we instantly clicked. We would spend every lunch together quoting obscure movies or Family Guy. We hung out at each other’s apartments many weekends, me just watching him play video games or forcing him to watch Bridgerton with me. There was something there and I think we all could feel it. Spencer was always the one I could go to geek out about the things I always thought I was being annoying talking about. It was almost like I had met my other half which could only be explained as the most terrifying but best feeling in the world. The whole office knew that there was something there but I might be speaking for myself but I did not want to act on it solely from my own relationship problems and that we were coworkers and did not want to make things so complicated. So for now, we are just good good friends who might just be completely infatuated with each other.
Walking into the Smosh office on Friday morning felt like every other morning on the last day of the week. I didn’t get enough sleep and would rather have been curled up back in my bed asleep but someone has to pay rent. Once I arrived at my desk directly across from Courtney’s, I could see that some sweet angel had placed my dear alani drink right in front of my computer. There was only one person who could have brought that for me and I knew it was Spencer so I took off to the Games pod to thank him dearly.
“Have I ever told you that you are a godsend and have saved my life on multiple occasions?” I say while walking up to Spencer’s desk.
“Well yes but have I ever told you that you are severely overdramatic with your words?” He said as he swiveled around in his chair.
“Alright that’s rude but I’ll let it slide since you brought me a drink sir.” I rolled my eyes and took a seat on the little couch in the small space. The office was pretty quiet this morning which is unusual but I welcomed it. “How long do you think it’s going to take before someone is yelling in here?”
“I say give it about ten minutes when Angela comes in and sees that she has to take care of that baby today” Spencer laughed and almost on cue heard Chanse cackling at Angela.
“Are you going to Courtney and Shayne’s combined bachelor party tonight?” Spencer suddenly looked nervous asking this question which is new for him around me that is.
“Yeah, I was going to head home after work to change then head over to the place, are you going?” I asked, praying and hoping he was going not wanting to miss a chance to hang out with him outside of these four walls of the Smosh office.
“Well seeing as you just said you were going then absolutely I am. Um, can I pick you up and drive you to the party maybe?” There it was again, the nervous look on his face.
“Of course!” I said maybe a little too fast and too enthusiastic, “I mean yeah that would be okay, that way I could have at least one or two drinks while I’m there.” I did not recover from that at all but maybe he won’t notice but seeing that smirk on his face, I am wrong.
“Then I will be there to pick you up at 7:30ish, does that sound okay?” Spencer asked, seeming to be a lot more relaxed now that I said yes.
“Sure! That gives me plenty of time, see you later Spen!” I gave him a small wave and walked back to my desk to get started on my small list of tasks I mentally gave myself to get done before filming started and I had zero free time until 5 p.m. As I walked back to my desk I was brought back to how nervous Spencer was asking me if he could drive me to the party. I mean we carpool sometimes to work and even ride together to function outside of the workplace so this shouldn’t be any different right? Oh god, is this a date? Does he know it’s a date? It can’t be a date when it’s Courtney and Shayne’s day right? I’m spiraling and don’t even notice that I ran right into Tommy.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry I wasn’t paying attention at all!” I stopped to make sure I didn’t cause some huge mess by running into him.
“It’s okay Y/N! You were really deep into thought there love, you doing okay?” Tommy asked with concern written all over his face, I suppose you can tell I was going through it up in my head.
“Uh well not really but I’ll be okay.” We both started walking towards our desks, I hoped to change the subject so I no longer had to think about what’s going on inside my head but Tommy had other ideas.
“Is it Spencer? I can totally fight him if you need me to or I can hide his Kickstarters until he apologizes to you.” Tommy giggled but stopped as soon as he saw how deep red my face had become.
“Wha- How did you know?” You mean to tell me the rest of the office knew how I truly felt about Spencer, shit.
“Oh honey, the man is completely infatuated with you and I also know you’re infatuated with him. I truly thought you guys were already together and just keeping it a secret for personal reasons. You know it’s okay to like him right? I know about the whole relationship problems you’ve had in the past but I don’t think Spencer is like that actually I know he’s not.” Tommy stopped walking to put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.
“Nope, nope, nope. You’re wrong, I know of no such infatuation you speak of Tommy Bowe.” I avoided eye contact the entire time but eventually sighed, “Is it that obvious?”
“Eh, kind of but hey it’s okay to like someone even if you guys work together. You guys have been attached at the hip ever since you started here and I think you might be the same person. I do not think he’s going to ghost you like every other piece of shit man who has entered your life.” Tommy knew more than maybe anyone about how much self doubt I have put on myself from constantly just men stopping talking to me out of nowhere. It didn’t matter if he said he was different, none of them were. They all were the same.
“I know he is a good person Tommy but I’m not sure I could deal with losing him as a friend and even worse I would have to see him every single day at work. I promise I’m just in my head a little bit, I’ll be okay.” I gave my most convincing smile and headed to my computer to start on my work for the day.
The work day honestly flew by without any more emotional spirals even at lunch when I could see Tommy giving me those knowing looks from across the table anytime Spencer did anything remotely nice for me. I left the office the minute it hit 5 p.m. just wanting to get out of there, I didn’t even wait for Spencer to walk with him in the parking lot. I needed to get to the comfort of my apartment and be alone before I had a full blown panic attack, not to mention I needed to get ready for this party. I made it home in record time with just enough time to get ready and sit in silence and think about what I should do. I decided to say screw it and just bring up my conversation with Tommy and see what happens. Do I know what’s going to happen? Not at all but you know what I need to do something to stop this spiral. I grabbed my bag and headed out the door was I saw that Spencer said he was outside. Spencer was waiting outside his car for me and even opened the door for me, what a gentleman.
“You were nowhere to be found after work dude, where the hell did you go?” Spencer asked, closing the door as I settled into the front seat.
“Sorry, I started feeling bad so I had to get out of there. Hope you didn’t get attacked in the parking lot without your guard dog.” I laughed as he started his car and headed towards the place where the party was being held.
“You are literally shorter than me which is saying a lot but I was a damsel in distress and you just left me alone to die.” Spencer pretended to wipe a fake tear and looked over at me giggling. “But were you okay? Like nothing happened right?”
“Yeah I was fine, Tommy just got me thinking and I just got a little overwhelmed but promise I am perfectly fine now!” I smiled and let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding in. “It um actually was about you if I’m being honest?”
“Me? I swear whatever it was I didn’t do it.” Spencer threw his hands up but I grabbed the wheel and gave him a glare.
“He did say that if you hurt my feelings he was going to hide your drinks until you apologize to me,” I looked over at him preparing myself for what I was going to say next, “He also said he thought we were together and were pulling a Courtney and Shayne”.
“Hm, Tommy thinks we’re famous enough to hide our relationship like that? Wow, I am flattered.” Spencer laughed looking over at me then stopped because he realized this might be a serious conversation. “Wait, being in a relationship with me sounds so terrifying to you that you had to book it out of the office?” I looked over and saw that we had already arrived at the place but I knew our conversation was not going to end just because we were here.
“No! I just got in my head and was so scared that if you knew that I had this massive ass school kid crush on you, it would ruin this friendship we have built. I have no clue what I would do if you were not in my life, Spencer, honestly.” I realized I have just told him about this crush I have on him with my word vomit so there was no turning back now. “I like you alright, I like you a lot and it’s so damn scary because I’m terrified to lose you in any sense of my life.”
“A massive crush you say?” Spencer started giggling and all I could do was glare at him ready to smack that smirk off his face. “I like you too dummy, I thought you knew already and just saw me as your dorky coworker who also is your best friend. I promise you’re not losing me anytime soon. You’re stuck with me now babe.” He smiled and leaned over to give me a soft kiss. A kiss that I think I have been waiting for what felt like years, a kiss that seemed to let go over all of my insecurities and finally felt safe and confident in a relationship. “Now, let’s go into this party and steal Courtney and Shayne’s thunder.”
We started to walk to the door of the place, hand in hand, and ready to face all of our coworkers. The only thing you can hear as soon as we walked into the room was a far away “FUCK YEAH” which I can only place as Angela screaming.
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could you please write a johnny smut? where he's dominant and praises her (doesn't degrade ofc) but it's really loving sex and its after he yells at her so sort of like makeup sex? sorry if this is too specific
Word Count: 1,429
It was currently 9:00 pm at night and I'd been at the dingo for over 2 hours alone. Johnny and I had planned a date, but he had yet to show up. I called him on the pay phone over 3 times but no answer. The waitress walked up to me, with her face laced with pity but sympathy at the same time, "Um...were about to close for the night, hun"
I looked up at her sadly, tears almost welling in my eyes. I refuse to cry, not in front of this random girl. I put down ¢15 for my cup of coffee and walked out of the diner. I decided to walk home to try and get some fresh air to calm myself down.
Once I got to our shared apartment, the door was already creaked open. Anticipation filled my bones as I dared to open up the door fully. I sighed in relief when I saw that it was Johnny in the living room. As I looked at him longer, I began to get angry again, "Johnny! Where have you been?" He woke up from his daze and looked at me in somewhat shock.
"I've been here, what do you mean?" My mouth formed into an "O" shape before stomping in front of him on the couch, " What do I mean? I have been at the dingo for 2hrs, waiting for you!" He looked at me in disbelief and shook his head, "why can't you just lay off" he replied in a murmur.
I felt a tear roll down my cheek, this whole thing is so stupid. I just wanted one night "What did you say?" He stood before me, shaking his head in anger, "WHY DON'T YOU JUST LAY OFF!" I looked at him in utter disbelief, letting out a sob.
His face softened when he saw me cry, "Baby-" is the only word he could get out before I ran into our bedroom. I lay down and cried until I was weak. Johnny has never done something like this before.
After a while, I got up and went to the bathroom to clean myself up. Wow, I look tragic. I decided to take a shower and get changed, maybe wash my old makeup off.
I walked out of the bathroom to the smell of food wavering in the air. Johnny never cooks. I walked into the kitchen, following the amazing smell. When I arrive there, I see Johhny making pasta, my favorite. He's so cute.
I walked up to him with a slight smile on my face, "Hi Johnny" He turned around, almost looking surprised I was even talking to him. It wasn't long until he had a pleading look on his face and, on his knees, "Baby, I'm so so sorry for yelling at you, I was just tired. I love you so much and I'm sorry I forgot about our date night. I looked down at him, basically begging for forgiveness.
A smile formed on my face before saying, "I forgive you Baby" He got up and turned off the stove before walking back over to me. He gave me a smirk before pushing me against the wall and kissing my neck. "Johnny please"
He sucked a hickey on my smooth skin before pulling away, making me whimper loudly, "I love you so much so let me show you." Fuck, he makes it so hard to ever be mad at him. Johnny pulled both shirts off to start working on my breasts.
He sucked at the flesh of my right breast while taking my left nipple between his fingers. He then brought his tongue down to circle my areola just right. I moaned loudly at his actions, "baby baby please" my words became slurred from the overwhelming pleasure. He groaned at my fucked-out expression, "I love your tits so much, I love everything bout you, your thighs, your hands, and especially your pretty pussy."
I leaned in to connect our lips eagerly and johnny immediately accepted my offer. He instantly forced his tongue between my lips to play with my own. I pulled away to resume my work but on his neck. I was about to give him a hickey before he stopped me, "Sorry baby, but I'm in charge today. I'm gonna show you how much I fucking love you tonight." He pulled me into our dining room and set me on the table before lowering to his knees.
He kissed down my stomach, leaving a line of hickeys all the way down. Johnny fiddled with the buttons on my pants, then proceeded to my zipper. He rubbed me over my underwear, feeling the wet spot in the middle, "Oh baby, you're so pretty like this for me." I moaned at his praise.
He pulled my underwear down my legs, kissing my inner thighs in the process. It feels like I'm burning up right now. I was lost in my thoughts until I felt Johnny's tongue swirl my clit, "Shit, don't stop please" He began prodding two fingers at my entrance, smirking at my whining and writhing for him, "Who knew what such bad words could come from your pretty mouth. You'll always be my good girl, right?" He softly curled his fingers inside me, massaging my g-spot.
He continued his work on my clit, sending harsh suck every now. Johnny thrust his fingers arduous, sending waves of fulfillment over my whole body. "More please, can I have more?" I begged him for another finger. He looked up at me and removed his fingers altogether, "You can have anything you want tonight" He entered 3 fingers into me, making me feel euphoric.
I moaned loudly at his actions. "You're so pretty when you're taking my fingers." he cooed at me. He started to drift his tongue down to my opening, making me whine, "Johnny please" he sat himself up to look at me, lovingly, "Please what, doll" I whimpered at his pet name, "Can you fuck me know please, I want you so bad."
He removed his fingers and sat up to unbutton his jeans. Johnny always got worked up from giving me head. He removed his underwear swiftly, his dick springing out. His dick was hard, bubbles of his precum forming at the opening.
He rubbed his tip across my arousal-coated pussy, eliciting a whine from my lips. "please!" He slowly entered me halfway, making me feel full from only half his length. He leaned down for a sweet kiss before starting his thrusts slow, speed gradually increasing. "Johhny, Can you hold my hand, please?" I said in a whine.
He looked down at me before replying, "Aww. Does my sweet girl want me to hold her hand?" I whimpered at his words before nodding eagerly. He grabbed my hand, squeezing lightly with each thrust. I reached my other hand down to rub my clit but Johnny moved my hand, placing it on his bare chest, "I'm sorry but I'm in charge tonight, babydoll." he whispered with a small pout resting on his lips.
My hand scratched at his chest making him moan lowly. Johnny brought his hand down on my stomach, pressing down lightly making my euphoria increase. He slid out almost fully before thrusting back in fully, making my belly bulge. "How's it feel, baby?" I let out a pornographic moan, "So g-good Johnny! Fuck."
He chuckled at my reactions and leaned down to give me a sweet kiss. "You're such a good slut...my good slut" I moaned way too loud at his praise. God damn. Johnny put his fingers into my mouth and continued to move in and out of me, picking up his pace. I let out a muffled moan of "Im so close!" around his thick fingers.
I clenched repeatedly on his girthy dick, whimpering as my high approached. "Your pretty pussy is gripping so tight I'm gonna cum baby," he said, out of breath. I squeezed his hand tightly as I came all over him. Johnny moaned as spilled himself into me. He gave me one last kiss before laying next to me on our table.
Johnny looked at me in my eyes, leaning in to kiss my cheek lightly< "I love you doll. I'll never yell at you like that again. I beamed at him, kissing him on the lip this time. "It's ok, I love you too. Y'know if this is how it's gonna end, you can yell at me anytime, Johnny Cade." We looked at each other before bursting out laughing.
Hope you enjoyed this! So sorry it's kinda late, I'm busy with school and competitions!
#johnny cade x y/n#johnny cade imagine#johnny#johnny cade x reader#johnny cade#the outsiders smut#the outsiders 1983#steve randle#ponyboy curtis#darry curtis#sodapop curtis#two bit mathews#dally winston
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116. “you wrote me a song?” any rating! 💕💕💕
I really thought you'd go with something so obviously smutty just based off of you breaking my brain so often, but this is such a soft prompt. I made it sweet and also a little smutty (barely) 💖
Rated M | tags: modern au, rockstar eddie, making out, light frottage, fade to black sex
🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶
Eddie being holed up in his music room for hours is normal.
That's what Steve's telling himself, at least.
But ever since the boys had been back from their tour, Eddie had been...weird.
It wasn't necessarily bad, at least not at first, but the last few days had seen Eddie being unusually quiet and withdrawn, his mind clearly elsewhere while they ate breakfast together before he disappeared for most of the day. He would appear again by dinner, usually tired, and always a bit snappy, like he didn't want to be around anyone.
Steve recognized it, but didn't quite place it until today.
He was working on a song.
Eddie was like this the last time a song wouldn't translate from his head to the instruments or the paper.
It didn't make it easier to deal with feeling so alone in their home, especially not when he'd spent a lot of the last four months alone while he was on tour.
"That's it," he said to himself as he stood up from the couch.
He walked to Eddie's music room and knocked on the door, three knocks, pause, two knocks, just like always.
Their version of 'I'm checking on you, I'm worried, let me in.'
Eddie opened the door, dark circles under his eyes.
"Break time," Steve said, grabbing Eddie's hand and pulling him from the room, ignoring the sputtering protests.
"Stevie, no. I gotta-"
"No you don't. You can come with me for a bit."
"No. You don't understand, I-"
"No, you don't understand." Steve stopped and turned to look at him, hands on his hips. "I've been mostly alone for months and I thought having you back would mean I have you back. But you've been closing yourself into that room for days now and I miss you. I miss you."
Eddie's face falls, Steve's hands fall, and they both fall into each other.
Eddie's arms are wrapping around his waist as Steve lets out a sob.
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mean to make you miss me," Eddie whispered into his ear, kissing his temple, his jaw, his cheek. "I'm right here, love. I'm sorry."
Steve nodded, accepting the apologies, the kisses, the love he was being given. He wasn't ashamed about needing it, not anymore. Eddie made sure he never felt like he couldn't ask for the attention he wanted.
"What's got you so stressed in there?" Steve finally asked, voice muffled against Eddie's shoulder.
"C'mon, I should probably just show you," Eddie pulled away, tugging Steve back towards the music room.
Once inside, Steve was led to the couch and given a peck on the lips.
Eddie sat down at his keyboard and cracked his knuckles.
"I've been working on something since we were on tour, but I thought the reason I couldn't get further was because of my environment. But I've been home for days and it's not getting better. Every time I think I'm onto something, I lose it or it doesn't come out right or it doesn't fit with the rest," Eddie explained, gesturing wildly.
Steve watched with wide eyes. He always loved watching Eddie's passion flow through his limbs the same way it flowed through his words. It was one of the things that made him fall in love with him.
"Show me what you've got so far, then," Steve gestured for him to start playing.
Eddie wasn't one to hold back, but he hesitated now.
It only lasted a moment though, his fingers starting to flow over the keyboard and his voice starting to sing.
It was beautiful, and nothing like what Steve had expected, nothing like what Corroded Coffin normally performed.
The words were romantic, hidden behind a yearning, something Steve hadn't heard Eddie write since before they were together.
And then he sang a line that would've knocked Steve to his knees if he'd been standing.
"It's with a curse I leave you, it's with a curse I love you
I can't find my way back to you tonight"
Steve immediately flashed back to one night in the middle of the tour, when Eddie had called him right after a show, something he only did when the show didn't go as well as he hoped.
He'd complained about the storms delaying their start time nearly an hour, and how Gareth was offbeat for half of a song, and how the fans didn't seem as into it as usual. And when he went to hang up, he said "I wish I could find my way back to you tonight."
Steve had been almost asleep by that point, but the sung line sparked the memory.
Steve stood and walked over to Eddie, cupping his face in his hands and swiping his thumbs across his cheeks.
"You found your way back to me now, though, baby. You always do," he said.
Eddie pulled his hands from the keyboard and pulled Steve down into his lap.
"I needed you then. I started writing this that night. Sorry it's not finished yet."
"You...you wrote this for me?" Steve asked, realizing now that there was a reason why he used that line.
Steve wasn't stupid, but sometimes he was a little slow.
"Yeah, sweetheart. I know you miss me when I'm gone, but you have no idea how much I miss you."
Steve knew, or thought he knew, that Eddie missed him. They talked every night before shows, and texted on Steve's lunch breaks and when he got off of work. But it always felt like Eddie got to stay busy enough not to think about missing him as much.
But this tour had been the first time Steve couldn't take much time off of work, only being able to attend a handful of shows throughout.
Normally, he spent more than half the tour with him.
Steve kissed him, hard.
Eddie grunted, surprised at the sudden intensity of Steve's lips on his, but didn't pull away. His hands gripped Steve's hips, leaving bruises as a reminder that Steve wouldn't actually need.
Eddie would be home with him for months now, enjoying the holidays together, visiting their friends and family as time allowed. He wouldn't have to leave for another tour until their next album was released the following year.
They had time.
But Steve's lips acted as if they only had tonight, his stomach already fluttering with need and anticipation of having those needs fulfilled.
Because Eddie would. Eddie always would.
He may not always be there, he may have to miss him, but he always got what he needed in the end.
The kissing turned messy, lips wet and spit on the corners of their mouths, desperate to keep sharing and tasting each other.
"Want you," Steve panted, bucking his hips forward so that his hard length finally got friction against Eddie's. "Please."
"Here?" Eddie asked, breathless.
"Anywhere, everywhere, doesn't matter."
"Oh my god. That's perfect!" Eddie pulled away, turning to the notepad on the sheet music stand.
Steve smacked his arm.
"I swear, Munson, if you don't focus on my extremely hard dick soon-"
"You're anywhere, everywhere
But not here, not tonight"
Steve melted.
"That's good, Eds. It's really good."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Steve kissed his forehead, smiling into it as he felt Eddie's shoulders relax. "Now, will you please fuck me on this bench?"
Eddie laughed and bit his shoulder.
"If you insist."
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#make me write#rock star eddie munson#modern au
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rafe request — can you please write about reader getting into an accident after a fight with race and rafe getting worried but make it really really dramatic like car accident life threatening, i wanna cry and feel angst 🫢
I mean this in the nicest way possible. I hope this is angst enough to make you cry. If this doesn't work, watch Daisy Jones and The Six. That made me cry today or the Notebook. We all need a good cry sometimes x
You Can Go Your Own Way
Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader
Warnings- Angst. Car accident. Argument. mentions of a pregnancy scare. Talks about future. Hospital. Coma
As requested above.
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
It wasn't even that big of an argument. At least wasn't meant to be until you told Rafe, you couldn't do it anymore.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He frowned, hurt flooding his eyes that you loved so much.
"I just. We keep going round in circles" You began gathering your things dotted around his room.
"Baby, stop" He tried to gently stop your hands before you moved away from him and continued "Baby, fucking stop!"
"Rafe, it just isn't going to work" You could feel the tears burning in your eyes as they threated to fall.
"It will! I promise" He tried to pull you closer but you resisted, knowing the minute you were in his arms, you would melt.
"Don't make promises you can't keep" You whispered before cutting off his reply "god, Rafe. I love you but we want different things. I'm off to college, and you'll be here, working for Ward."
"I never said I didn't want you to go," He frowned. "All I said was let's get married. "
You looked up to the ceiling before back down at him. "Because of a scare fucking pregnancy, Rafe" You pointed to the test thrown in his bathroom bin, only moments ago "God, your face when you were hoping it was positive. I can't do that. I don't want that. Not right now."
"I know, baby, I know." He ran a hand through his hair, "but I meant it, I would marry you. Not because of a baby but because I fucking love you"
You shook your head and swallowed "I don't want to be some tropy wife. I've seen how it broke my mother. She had so many dreams and I do too. You can't come with me and I can't stay here"
You had always wanted a life bigger than Outerbanks could give you. Collage in New York was that chance. Your heart was torn in two, all because you had fallen in love with Rafe Cameron.
"I love your dreams" Rafe looked like he could cry too. "I want you to live them, baby"
"I can't do that as a married collage student with my husband half way across the country. All I'm asking is that we wait. I can't give you the future you want right now"
"Why wait? It's just a ring. It shows that you are mine." He sighed before your eyes widened. It suddenly twigged, the other reason he had asked you.
"That's it! Fuck Rafe, do you really think that little of me? I'm not going to sleep around!"
"No. No. It's the guys I don't trust" He desperately tried to reach for you as you nodded and picked up the last of your things. "Baby, please"
"I'm not something you can fucking own, Rafe"
You had been together for two years and it was wonderful. Rafe was kind, caring, protective but the one thing that always caused a problem was when the protectiveness turned into possessiveness. A little you could handle, an arm around you at a party, a kiss on temple as you talked to another guy but the fighting, the anger at someone for even looking at you the wrong way, it was too much.
As you stammered your car door and locked it. Rafe ran out to you and hammered on the window. He called out to you, but you drove away, leaving him cursing barefoot in the driveway.
You weren't sure where to go. You couldn't go back home right a way. The moment your mother saw you crying, it would feel too real. Your best friend was most likely in The Cut, and again, if you fall into her arms, it would be too much to bare. You loved her brother so much, it hurt. So you drove into the night to clear your head.
It happened quickly. They say things can change in the blink of an eye. That life is made up of split seconds.
You had been adjusting the volume on the radio as 'Go Your Own Way' by Fleetwood Mac played. It seemed like the sky was crying with you as it began raining heavily.
Your phone lit up with a message distracting you.
Gorgeous 👑 - 'Call me or tell me when you are home safe...'
The rest of the message was cut off.
The name you had given him made you smile at the memory of him finding it. It was a few months into your relationship, even after the years together, you hadn't changed it.
----------------------------
"Why gorgeous? And a crown. " He frowned as he stared at your phone
"Because you're my gorgeous king." You kissed his cheek
"That's fucking cheesy as shit" He teased before you grabbed his phone
"Oh yeah, what's yours, then, huh?" You opened it, smiling at his lock screen of you before finding the contact and laughing "Baby with a red heart? And mine was cheesy"
"Shut up" He blushed before pining you down on the bed as you laughed.
----------------------------
When you glanced back up at the road, all you could do was gasp as yellow headlights blinded you. You tried to swerve but you just felt the car spin out of control on the wet road before the impact of metal hitting metal, the stretching, the boom of air bags, the smell of burnt rubber and the iron taste of blood.
Every nerve in your body screamed as your head felt heavy. Somehow, you ended upside down. You could hear a strangers voice, muffled like it was under water. A buzzing caught your attention as your phone lay broken on the road. Rafe’s face appearing on the screen, his gorgeous smile, broken and cracked as it showed he was calling. It was the last thing you saw before losing conciseness.
*-*-*-*
"Who the fuck are you?" Rafe asked as a male voice was on the other end of the phone.
"Calm down, son." The officer, on the other end, replied, "I'm officer Warron, now I need you to remain calm for moment."
Rafe dropped to the floor, holding his head as Officer Warron told him you had been involved in a road traffic accident and that you had been transferred to the General on the main land in crucial condition. They had contacted him as your mother had told them too, he needed to know. She couldn't bring herself to do it, and he was the last call on your broken phone.
He got to the hospital as quickly as he could, taking the Druthers as fast as it would possibly go. He almost forgot to pay the taxi before following the instructions your mother had messaged.
"Oh, Rafe!" Your tearful mother embraced him as he entered your room. He gently patted her back as he looked over to you.
You looked so broken and fragile in the bed, hooked up to a million machines. He just stared feeling completely numb.
"I know, it looks scary, but they said the surgeries went well. They put. They put her in an induced coma to, to help the healing." Your mother stumbled over her words. "She can hear you"
All Rafe could do was nod before your mother gave him a sad smile. "I'll give you two a moment," she moved to kiss your cheek before speaking to you. "I'm just going to update your dad, sweetie. Rafe's here. He's here."
They both could have sworn your heart beat raised a little at her words before she left.
Rafe stumbled into the seat next to your bed and shakily took your hand. "Shit, baby. I don't. I don't even know what to say, " He whispered. "I'm so sorry. Fuck..."
He suddenly broke down, his head on your arm as he sobbed. The only sounds filling the room were the beeping of your machines and his broken sniffles.
#rafe cameron#outer banks rafe#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x reader#outerbanks#rafe x reader#outerbanks fic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron angst#rafe request
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