#missing my youth apparently lol
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The good news is I finally started writing more of my Savage fic, yay. I haven’t written anything in my Maul fic for about three weeks, boo.
I’m so up and down with creativity and the like. It’s frustrating to me.
On the bright side, my jrock/visual kei bug has bit again. Mortifying to realize that I was listening to that stuff nearly 15 years ago, it always seems like yesterday. It also makes me sad that Rentrer en Soi still isn’t on Spotify. There were so many meaningful and important songs of theirs that I’d listen to through life. Satsuki’s solo stuff just isn’t the same to me. Don’t even get me started on how BAISER isn’t on there either.
Sometimes I miss my old iPod that was loaded with jrock. Back then you didn’t have to worry about things disappearing like on Spotify. Still gutted that Luna Sea’s I For You and X Japan’s Tears were removed… come on now, I mean Tears?! It’s beyond classic. One of the most beautifully crafted songs of all time, transcending the genre. And it’s just not there. Wtf.
I found Phantasmagoria on there. But …Lost in Thought and At the Ends of the Rest Period aren’t there, le sad. My two favorite songs of theirs. Last I remember I don’t think An Cafe is there either. Smile Ichiban Ii Onna was classic. At least I have my Cure magazines from 08-09 to always go back and reference. To remember better times in my life, when I didn’t realize how good I had it til it was so far gone.
This got depressing lol I’m just happy I’m able to get some writing in. Nothing like watching AEW to inspire me to think about the amazing Savage body that lives in my head rent free. 🥹
#personal update#writing update#missing my youth apparently lol#seriously tho#how tf do you take X Japan’s tears off Spotify ffs
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Part 1: What Exactly is Hobie’s Accent and Who Has It?
Part 2: When, Where, Why (Black Londoner Culture since Windrush) | Part 3: How (Writing Tips)
As a black Londoner, a large reason Hobie is so special to me is because I really saw and heard myself in him, while also not seeing a stereotype or typical, lacking in nuance portrayal of a black Londoner.
A lot of people have given great advice about how to write the dialogue of a British person; however, though the U.K. is a small place, different areas, like anywhere, have very different cultures and accents. Even somewhere as geographically small as London has a few different native accents, as many of you have picked up on, Cockney is one but there is also Received Pronunciation (RP), Estuary English and the one Hobie uses for most of his intro: Multicultural London English (MLE).
I’m an MLE user myself, as are most black Londoners, including Daniel Kaluuya (who voices Hobie and was asked to make the dialogue sound authentic). Aside from tilting my head in slight confusion at some of the slang floating around the fandom, one of the last times I rewatched the movie, I noticed Hobie actually only uses one relatively ubiquitous Cockney phrase… and apparently, it was used inauthentically? On the other hand, he uses quite a few MLE phrases and constructions but it seems few people represent that in their fan content.
It made me want to give my two cents and some advice on how to write the dialogue of an MLE user since I haven’t seen anyone do something like this yet.
In addition, I wanted to give a little bit of context about life as a black Londoner, since Windrush brought the first mass migration of black people to England in 1948 until now, since it’s another thing that I haven’t seen anyone talk about how it differs from the typical depictions of British life. And also how that intersected with punk culture and what it says about Hobie. Everyone is entitled to their personal interpretations but, of course, as someone who Hobie’s a bit closer to home for than most, I felt a lot of people are missing a key part of who he is without understanding the youth culture of black Londoners.
To answer these questions, I think it would be good to put names to the four main London accents so you can understand exactly what Hobie’s purposefully mixed accent is made up of and the one thing it is not.
I also want to say before we get into it that some people have unique accents/accents that may not seem to match their status or ethnicity, etc. so it’s not that nobody speaks using other accents but if we hear it, it would be noticeable.
Starting off, we have Received Pronunciation which is that posh, fancy and stuffy accent you probably first associated a British accent with. This is the accent of the rich, associated with types who go to private schools like Eton, with the royals’ accents and political figures. Nothing to do with Hobie.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, there’s Cockney. Cockney is an interesting one; it’s a term referring to people that are from East London, and according to Google “traditionally one born within the hearing of the Bow Bells” which means in earshot of the bells of St Mary-le-Bow Church.
The term is also used to cover the accent and slang; the Cockney accent is not necessarily exclusive to Cockney people but rather is one that, nowadays, floats around the working class. The culture, on the other hand, such as familiarity with rhyming slang and stuff like eating jellied eels is not so ubiquitous amongst the working class not from the area. An example of a Cockney with this accent would be Danny Dyer, who plays Mick Carter in EastEnders and some of the other characters also have a proper Cockney accent. Here’s an iconic clip from EastEnders that showcases the Cockney accent lol
youtube
However, there is a more general accent, which refers to the varying mixtures of RP and cockney that most Londoners have: Estuary English. The estuary in the term refers to the Thames Estuary in the South East of England, near but outside of London. The accent is not locked there, however, and extends to London, especially as people have tended to move further out from London with time due to housing prices and thus accents of outer and inner parts of London mix. It’s not associated with class the way the other two previous accents are.
There are no clear boundaries between Estuary English and Cockney, mainly due to upward mobility and movement around London. I’m not a linguist so it’s hard to describe but I would personally say that proper Cockney has some ways of pronouncing things that even Estuary English speakers on the Cockney end of the spectrum don’t typically do.
Some examples I would consider Estuary English or more typical accents would be those of people like Amelia Dimoldenberg (chicken shop girl 😂) and Tom Holland; on the more Cockney end of this accent, you’d have people like Adele (who I’m pretty sure has Cockney family members).
Then there’s Multicultural London English, influenced mainly by the dialects of the ethnic immigrants that have come to the U.K., most notably Jamaican Patois but also, more recently, borrowing a lot from West African Pidgin languages, as well as some words and phrases here and there from other immigrant communities. Most black people speak MLE and many other ethnic Londoners do too, as due to the effects of colonization and structural racism, many are relegated to the working classes and live in community together. Examples of this accent would be John Boyega, Jasmine Jobson, Letitia Wright and, of course, Daniel Kaluuya.
Now that we’ve got the accents down, which does Hobie have?
While the term Cockney is thrown around a lot, there is a strong implication that Hobie was born and raised in Camden, especially given the casting of Daniel Kaluuya, who was born and raised in that area himself.
Here’s a map of London, I split us up based on how I understand people typically refer to it, which is a mix of geography, government designation and postcodes. The rainbow in the middle is considered Central London, it’s a very commercial and touristy area, where all our classic landmarks are and it’s very expensive to live there.
Part of the borough of Camden is in central London and, currently, it starts to get more residential near Camden Market, which is 3 miles away from St Mary-le-Bow-Church, aka. The Bow Bells. A true Cockney is said to be within 3 miles or earshot of the bells (for geographical reasons, the sound carries more East). I’m not sure about the balance of residential to commercial areas in the 70s, although apparently, the area near Camden Lock was industrial. London has changed and expanded over time so someone from an east-most part of Camden at a point probably would have been easily counted as Cockney but I have no clue about the timeline. It’s uncertain whether or not Hobie would fit the criteria but if he was born today, Hobie definitely wouldn’t be considered or consider himself a Cockney.
So again, while there’s no clear distinction of what makes a Cockney accent, Hobie is probably not a Cockney (unless you hc as such).
Does that mean he uses Estuary English? I would say no. I think his accent is predominantly Cockney and he uses some of the slang, as most Londoners do, but being black and not from East London, he mostly uses MLE slang and sentence constructions.
I believe this was the creative intention, given the casting of Daniel Kaluuya, most known for his roles in movies tackling black issues, and the freedom he was given to make the dialogue authentic, meaning Hobie’s blackness is a core part of his character design for Spider-Verse. You can also hear Daniel exaggerating the accent for Hobie at points; as he’s said himself, it’s not just his regular accent, which might not be too obvious to those not so used to London accents. It's a more Cockney accent, particularly in the intro, that he’s putting on instead of speaking normally, despite not necessarily using much Cockney lingo. Bear in mind, that Daniel naturally has a stronger Cockney twang to his natural speaking voice than a lot of MLE speakers.
Returning to the point that the one Cockney phrase, “scooby doo” was used inauthentically; it’s worth noting that you’ll be hard-pressed to find an up-to-date and thorough reference or guide on how to write the use of Cockney slang authentically because Cockney is a somewhat dated culture. For example, jellied eels? Not a common thing anymore, Some people, probably older East Londoners, still do eat them but extremely few places sell them and most of us will have never even seen them in our lives. As mentioned above, upward mobility along with people moving around means that the accent, slang and general culture have been watered down over time. On top of that, a lot of East London has been gentrified, such as the Isle of Dogs (in Tower Hamlets), which has had Canary Wharf transformed - a mall, a business centre and a major transport link and Stratford (in Newham), which has similarly had a giant mall and major transport links added to it.
Some Cockney rhyming slang stuck and is known to all Londoners, such as “telling porkies/porky pies” and “copper”. “I ain’t got a scooby (doo)” is a more common one, although not even that is known to all. Typically, Cockneys only say the first half of the rhyming slang phrase (even if it no longer rhymes). I couldn’t tell you which Cockney rhyming slang phrases have been absorbed into more general London vocab other than those, because again, it’s not used as most lists you could probably find online have it written out in full but know that a lot of phrases have been absorbed.
Cockney slang is an oral tradition of the working class and so until more recently, when literacy rates went up, probably wouldn’t have been written, on top of people tending to write in standard English instead of using slang when writing. Unless you’re talking to a boomer/gen-x/older millennial from East London, it’s not so likely that you could read off a list of cockney phrases to a Londoner and they would be familiar with them. Because Daniel Kaluuya and I’m guessing the other people involved in writing Hobie’s dialogue aren’t Cockneys, well, that’s how we ended up with what we got.
So, whilst a dated dialect probably would be perfect for Hobie, it’s hard to get right or for it to read as natural to a Londoner because it’s difficult to pinpoint people that still talk like that on a regular basis, even in East London and it’s ESPECIALLY not black people/MLE users that talk like that these days. Cockney Rhyming slang was code language, after all so it figures that it’s a bit elusive.
Funnily enough, Hobie’s use of MLE is probably a slight anachronism, a little ahead of his time. Because the mass migration of Caribbeans began in 1948, by the 70s, most young black people would be the first big wave of second gens or immigrants themselves; ‘Black British’ culture would’ve still been quite young and not had enough time to carve itself as its own thing. The MLE we (including Hobie in the movie) use today started to really be what it is today in the 90s. Point being, you’re not going to find documentation of black Londoners from the 70s or early 80s who talk like Hobie.
Basically… Hobie’s accent is not authentic to the time period so if you wanted to write a historically authentic accent/slang… then you probably wouldn’t really write one… buuut it’s less fun and less Hobie! So let’s learn about black British youth culture and racism in London since the 70s, then we can understand the context in which the language is used before we learn the lingo + how to use it 😎
#I FUCKED UP THE MAP COLOURS BRENT AND HARROW ARE NW NOT WEST#atsv fanfiction#hobie brown#across the spiderverse#spider punk#shui fic#shuinami
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i can see you - tom riddle x fmc/reader
part II
loosely inspired by "i can see you" by taylor swift.
“I've been watchin' you for ages
And I spend my time tryin' not to feel it”
summary: She had always fancied Tom Riddle. It was an infatuation that bordered on love and obsession, that she had secretly grown and cared for, content with indulging in her fantasies and never bold enough to try and make them become reality.
When she meets him again in her adulthood, dormant longings resurface together with a newfound desire to be the object of his own devotion.
As their paths keep crossing, she starts to think he feels the same.
tags: afab mc, use of female pronouns and no descriptors (i tagged it as x reader because i guess it could be read as such if you use the same pronouns), somewhat period-accurate clothing, courtship (just a little because it's still tom riddle), fmc has a crush on tom, she's a bit anxious, a bit of fluff, explicit sexual desire, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, woman is on top.
please note that mc has a crush on tom, therefore the way she refers to him could sound a bit cheesy and exaggerated. i edited this last night and didn't read it again before posting. i'm sorry for any typos or grammar mistakes i missed.
bear with her in this one, she's a little anxious.
words: 6.7K
you can find part I here, I strongly recommend you read that one first.
this is me crawling out of my hole of shame to post this chapter.
i'm really sorry for this very late update, but the smut chapter is finally here after many days of writing (but still in time for smutober lol).
it's not crazy smut, but i hope it was worth the wait.
Part II: And I could see you up against the wall with me
She tapped her foot, pursing her red lips as she jotted a few numbers down on a parchment. She sighed, taking another folder from the pile on her side and checking if the reports corresponded.
When Serena, her boss, had showed up that morning with two delivery men in tow, she already knew her day was going to take a detestable turn.
Serena had dropped three boxes full of last year's reports in the office and sprinted out of the door before they could say anything and try to stop her.
Apparently she had hired a cheap accountant to save money and now she had to review everything before the Ministry noticed and demanded an audit. Or rather, Serena had asked her to do it.
She was now holed up in the backroom while Will had taken her place in the main office, since Serena didn’t pay her enough to care about customers and save her from bankruptcy at the same time.
She glanced at the clock, noting that it was almost time for her usual break. She chewed the inside of her cheek and returned to the reports.
She wasn’t in the right mindset to meet Tom.
The day she had gone to see him had been like the calm before the literal storm. In the past week it had rained so heavily that she had had to give up on going out and he hadn’t come to post his letters. What had happened between them had been left unresolved.
She had replayed it so many times in her mind, at night and during idle moments in the office, picturing different ways in which it could have ended, desperately wishing she could indulge in his warm lips again.
The first few days she had fretted about it, but as the week had gone by without a word from him, she had just started to accept it as the normal course of things. Perhaps it had just been an extraordinary event, a moment that wasn’t going to repeat itself and that she needed to find contentment in. Perhaps it was supposed to be one of those memories she was going to return to in twenty years, thinking about everything she could have had, or it will sour in her mind, turning into regret while her lamenting soul grieved the possibilities of youth, the chances she had been too scared to take.
It didn’t matter that she was conscious of the anxious butterflies leading her decisions, she still didn’t want to find out if what she saw in him was just a product of her infatuated imagination.
She immersed herself in numbers, refusing to go down that rabbit hole again.
Fifteen minutes after the end of her break, a customer walked in. A beat of silence followed and then Will said, “She’s in the back.”
She almost jumped out of her seat, her heart rate picking up. She quickly smoothed her hair and sat straighter, crossing her legs.
Tom appeared in the doorway, his arm half raised as if he had wanted to knock. She pretended she had just noticed him.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Hello, Tom.” She gave him a mellow smile.
He was so good-looking, with his perfectly styled curls and black coat in the muted light of the cloudy morning. Her heart fluttered painfully.
He looked hesitant as he made his way to her and handed her a folded magazine. It was the weekly crossword.
“Thank you,” she said, taking it as her gaze met his. The way he was looking at her was so compelling it was impossible for her to divert her eyes.
He had been thinking of her, she realised, he had noticed her absence, perhaps even missed her.
“I hope I’m not disrupting your work.” His gaze trailed to the numerous papers scattered on the table.
“Not at all, a distraction is more than welcome.” The distraction of his presence was most desirable.
He drew closer, reading through them as he casually rested his hand on the back of her chair.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Maths mostly,” she replied, fiddling with the parchments to hide her nervousness.
He reached out over her shoulder to grab a folder but she placed a hand on his arm to stop him.
“I’d rather you didn’t. It’s still work.”
He dropped his arm. “You’re right, I apologise. I don’t wish to put you in an uncomfortable position.”
“It’s fine.”
He stepped to the side, tickling her neck.
“I’ll see you later?” he asked.
She had to stop herself from grinning.
“Of course.”
She watched him with desirous parted lips as he left. He said goodbye to Will and she heard the door closing. It was only a matter of minutes before Will came to pry.
She grabbed the crossword, flipping through the pages. He had bought her her favourite one.
As she got up to put it next to her bag, a small note fell to the ground. It was a plain piece of parchment. But as she picked it up, ready to throw it on the table with the rest of the documents, words started to appear.
Her breath caught in her throat. She knew to whom that elegant and neat handwriting belonged.
She read the note. Then read it again to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.
“I hope to see you more often in the future.
You look stunning with that lip colour.
T.R.”
She brought her fingers to her mouth, staring at the words until each swirl of ink etched into her mind, terrified they might disappear.
Instead his message remained there, visible, tangible, real. He had taken time to write her a note, to think about something he knew she’d appreciate.
Something warm diffused in her chest, a new version of a familiar feeling, and a giggle escaped her as she realised the ridiculous effect he had on her.
She was so engrossed in her reverie that she didn’t notice Will standing in the door until he cleared his throat.
She quickly hid the message in her purse and he was so considerate not to comment on it.
“How is it going?” he asked.
“Awfully slowly, these numbers are all over the place,” she huffed, returning to her chair.
He dragged a chair and sat across from her. He started bouncing his knee. “I know you’d prefer not to talk about this, but how are things between you two?”
She stopped twirling her quill. “What do you mean?”
Will shuffled awkwardly in his seat. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you but I’d hate to see you hurt.”
She tilted her head to the side, disliking the territory the conversation was heading towards.
He was struggling with his words. “He never- I never saw him interested in a girl. I just want to be sure you know what you can expect from him.”
She averted her eyes. “I have considered all the options.”
“And?”
“And I don’t know, Will!” she bursted out.
Her flare of annoyance suddenly deflated, making room for embarrassment for what he probably saw as naivety.
“I know I’m probably getting ahead of myself.”
“You are smart, I just can’t stand watching you smile at the things he writes to you.”
She feigned offence and threw a balled up paper at him.
“When you find someone, you’ll be just as ridiculous.”
He laughed and steepled his fingers in front of him. “I’m curious to know, when did it start?”
She scrunched her eyebrows, thinking about how much she wanted to reveal. “I don’t remember exactly. It was more like a sequence of events, until one day I was anxiously waiting for him to sit at his usual spot at breakfast,” she replied with a smile. Will was smiling too.
“You and half of Hogwarts,” he said.
She chuckled. “I miss those years sometimes. Everything was simpler.”
“I used to worry about everything,” he admitted. “But fears always seem so big.”
They really did.
“What do you like about him?” he asked after a beat of silence.
It was her turn to be at a loss of words. “He’s handsome…and always so mysterious. I think I always liked him because it was easy to imagine him being exactly what I wanted.” She looked at him hesitantly, fearing judgement, but he was just listening. “But I think it’s impossible for me to dislike the real him.”
They shared a small moment of closure. She had always wished for someone she could confide in, someone that could help her see beyond the fabrications of her wary heart, and perhaps she had finally found them.
The bell chimed and Will got up.
“Do you want to come for lunch on Sunday?” she asked.
“I’d love to. I’m sorry for earlier, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
His gaze shifted between the door and her. “Just make sure you both want the same thing.”
He went back, leaving her at the mercy of her insidious brain and foolish heart.
Throughout the afternoon she had opened the note at least three times, giggling like a schoolgirl everytime she read his words.
Her mind kept straying to what he had said.
“I’ll see you later.”
She wasn’t sure what he had actually meant. Was he just going to stop by or was he going to wait for the office to close? She wasn’t even sure she could see him today, since she expected to stay late to solve Serena’s mess.
Will popped in. “I have to check something at the owlery. I’ll be back in a while.”
“Alright, I’ll see you later.”
The door opened and closed and then she was submerged by stillness. It was soothing almost.
She had found out long ago that she enjoyed being alone, it freed her of any kind of expectation.
She turned up the heating with her wand and took off her jacket. Since they couldn’t light a fireplace in a room full of paper, they had refined a spell that kept the room warm and the humidity away.
It was a few minutes after the usual closing hour that the door opened again. She knew who it was.
He walked in, his cheeks slightly flushed from the cold and his lips reddened.
“Are you still working?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’m afraid it’ll take a while before I’m free to go.”
“It’s not a problem,” he said, grabbing her crossword and a quill and sitting down on a chair, bending one leg so that his ankle rested on his other knee.
Her face heated as she watched him but she didn’t say anything.
As she returned to her work, she realised that silence was a strange assistant. It felt like every sound was heightened and she was becoming keenly aware of everything that was happening. The scratching of their quill on parchment, paper being flipped as she checked the numbers or he looked for a crossword he liked, his soft breath threatening to pull her close like a magnet, her absentmindedly chipping her nail polish.
She kept throwing glances in his direction and she could feel his eyes on her from time to time.
An unspoken craving was growing between them again. She had waited long enough.
She slowly got up, gathering her reports and stacking them in a neat pile. She then took them and walked over to the shelves, conveniently passing by Riddle in doing so.
As she stored them, his chair scraped on the ground and she felt him draw closer. She deliberately turned around, meeting his eyes.
His gaze was deep, like he was trying to read every thought that crossed her mind just by looking at her. She wasn’t going to lay them bare for him.
He raised his hand, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Did you get my message?”
“I did,” she replied, stepping forward and trailing her fingers down his suit jacket, feeling the fabric. “You keep mentioning it but this is the first time I’ve seen you all week.”
“It was storming all week,” he pointed out.
She tilted her head, finding his eyes again. His eagerness was palpable. “Still,” she said.
He grabbed her waist, pressing her body flush against his. “And you still haven’t answered my question.”
She had thought about that moment since then.
“Tell me what you desire the most.”
What could she tell him? That she had been pining for him for so long she couldn’t imagine herself with anyone else? That she was jealous of even thinking about him with someone else? Will’s words played in her mind.
She leaned closer, murmuring against his ear. “Not until I know why you’re here, Tom.”
She left a kiss on his jaw, phantom lips brushing against his flawless skin.
“It’s a really uncomplicated answer,” he said, caressing her back.
“Explain it to me, then.”
Tender amusement tugged at the corners of his lips. “Do you really think I came here because I don’t own an owl?”
His words pulled at her heartstrings with raw delight and her mind went blank. Adrenaline was rushing through her as she listened to her impulses. It was enough, at least for now it was enough.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her hand in his hair, involuntarily tugging at the strands as she leaned closer. She could feel his warm breath as he pulled her in, gripping the silky fabric of her blouse.
She met his lips halfway, the burning touch consuming her as he pressed her against the shelves, one hand lost in her hair, the other splayed around her ribcage.
She bit his lower lip, smiling as it elicited a groan from him and the kiss became more demanding.
It was a moment frozen in time, where she wanted to stay forever, like the scenery in a snowglobe.
“Hello?”
A man’s voice abruptly pulled them apart. She was breathless as she realised she had forgotten to lock the door. Was this a conspiracy?
Tom was slightly panting and she left a small kiss on his neck.
“Don’t leave,” she whispered.
She used a finger to fix her smudged lipstick and went to see who had just dared to interrupt them.
There was a man standing in the office.
“We’re closed,” she said.
“But I saw the light on.”
There was a twitch in her jaw. “We are closed to the public. I must ask you to come tomorrow morning.”
He rolled his eyes and she ignored his grumbling as he left, locking the door behind him. When she went back, Tom was leaning against the table.
He turned his head towards her as she languidly got closer. She forgot pleasantries, immediately grabbing his face to kiss him again. He was quick to react, wrapping his arms around her.
His mouth trailed down, kissing her cheek, her jaw and then pressing against her neck, soft lips and the occasional scrape of his teeth.
He grabbed her waist and spun her around, flattening her back against his chest and brushing her hair away from her neck to bite and lick her skin. His hands travelled down and he started gathering the fabric of her skirt.
Merlin, it was finally happening.
He caressed her inner thigh, tracing patterns and snapping the nylon of her stockings as his fingers moved excruciatingly slow.
Finally he pulled her underwear to the side, feeling the wetness between her folds with his fingers as his other hand cupped her breast.
She threw her head back against his shoulder as he stroked her clit, eliciting a sigh out of her, and she grabbed his thigh for support.
“I won’t drop you,” he murmured, amused, against her ear. He rubbed his palm over her clothed breast, the friction causing sparks to jolt through her body.
None of her fantasies came even close to what she was feeling right now.
“Should I trust you?” she asked, biting her lip to suppress a moan as he sunk one finger inside of her, his thumb still applying pressure on her clit.
“Such a great timing to ask me that,” he replied. She felt him smile on her skin.
“We don’t really know each other, Tom.” She dug her fingers into his flesh as he slipped in a second finger and started fingering her, stretching her as pleasure morphed her features.
“And yet you are letting me do this.” He squeezed her breast, lewd wet sounds filling the room as he kept moving his fingers inside of her.
She leaned her body weight completely on him, her legs unsteady as it was precarious the beating of her heart.
He let out a low moan as she yanked his hair to catch his mouth, biting his lip hard to gain better access, their tongues tangling together.
He curled his fingers inside of her, an unrelenting wave of pleasure washing over her.
She stopped to imagine what it would be like if he dropped to his knees again, if he started kissing and licking her, if she could watch him at her mercy between her legs.
She realised in that moment that the fall down the precipice was inevitable. Tom had threatened to push her but she had allowed him to succeed, jumping into an abyss that felt unending but that could only allow two conclusions to her story.
What she had told Will was true. She loved the fantasy, all the glances, conversations, gestures that had never happened, that she had delighted herself with when the reality was harsher, but as she kissed him she knew that falling for the real Tom was unavoidable. Not if he kept touching her like that.
It was bound to happen, it was part of her story, the decision she was brave enough to take.
She focused on him, on the circles his thumb was drawing on her clit, on the indecent sounds falling from her lips, on his groans on her reddened skin, on him growing harder against her back.
He pulled her hair back, tilting her head to meet her gaze. His eyes glimmered with rapture while hers were heavy-lidded, tension building inside of her.
He didn’t take his eyes off of her, as if he wanted to memorise each detail of her, the way she looked at him, the way her lips parted slightly and the way she panted as she was nearing her orgasm.
“Just like that, darling,” he murmured, a pleased smile on his lips as he noticed she was still blushing.
She threw her head back, losing herself in the motion of his fingers, surrendering herself as blissed moans spilled out shamelessly. She squeezed his soaked fingers, and he kept moving, stroking her throughout her climax.
She panted, coming down from her apex in a flurry of emotions and flustered thoughts. He raised his wet fingers to her lips and she opened her mouth, tasting herself on her tongue as she sucked on them, never breaking eye contact.
“Good girl,” he said, holding her jaw and kissing her.
It was a slow kiss, meant to explore her depths in a different way from the breathless and unrestrained passion from before. She leaned into his palm, her hand closing around his wrist.
His arms snaked around her waist and he turned them around, pushing under her thighs to lift her on the table.
The kiss transformed again.
Teeth and tongues met with vehemence, burning urgency guiding their movements as he brought her legs around his waist and she quickly started to unbutton her blouse.
But at the third button, she stopped.
Tom noticed the shift in her demeanour and drew back, observing her. Her eyes flew to the clock, as she had just remembered about Will.
She noticed with disappointment that they had no time.
“What is it?” he asked. She didn’t miss the urgent tone of his question.
“Will will be back any time now,” she replied, leaving a peck on his lips.
He cleared his throat and stepped back, composing himself. She got off the table and
cool hands unexpectedly reached her again, adjusting her clothes and stockings. She shivered at the contact.
He smoothed her skirt and put his coat back on, watching her as she scribbled something on a piece of paper and gave it to him.
“If you want to stop by one of these days.”
“I remember where you live,” he replied, reading the address she had written down.
She shrugged, holding out one finger to wipe away the lipstick at the corner of his mouth.
“Do you have to go back to work?”
“I was supposed to meet with a potential supplier, so yes.”
“I’d stop by the bathroom before,” she advised, gesturing for him to go as she herself needed to compose herself again.
She braced herself against the threshold, leaning her head on the hard wood as she watched him unlock the door and leave.
Then she was alone, finally finding an answer in the cluster of hypotheses that had tormented her mind.
Two days later, as she was returning from her meeting with Serena, she found Tom waiting for her.
He was talking to Will and they both turned to her as she entered, feeling tremendously self-conscious.
“How is Serena?” Will asked.
“Dim-witted as always,” she replied, earning a laugh from Will.
Her eyes trailed to Riddle, holding an unspoken question.
Will seemed to notice because he stepped forwards.
“It’s quite late, you can go if you want, I’ll close.”
Tom didn’t wait for him to repeat himself, pushing down the handle and holding the door open for her.
She mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him and followed Tom outside. Once in the street, she huddled herself in her coat and took the arm he was offering her.
“May I walk you home?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said, a little breathy, still not immune to the chivalrous manners he always had with her.
They strolled through the streets, passing by scarcer and scarcer people as the stores emptied and everyone returned home seeking a tranquil evening.
She held his arm tightly, her fingers tracing delicate patterns on the fabric of his coat.
The first time they had walked together it had felt like an accident, a singular mistake in the already waved threads of her life. This time, she yearned for so much more than she wanted for the error to repeat itself; she was willing to cut the strings herself and tie them back together, as messy as it might have looked.
They crossed the road and he gently put a hand on her waist, pushing her away from the pavement.
“Would you fancy dinner?” he asked. There was a foreign quality in his voice and when she turned to look at him, he averted his eyes. She blinked bewildered. Was he nervous?
“I’d love to,” she replied and she noticed his chest rising like he had just begun breathing again. “But not tonight.”
An almost imperceptible smile cleared his expression at her answer and she leaned her head on his shoulder, basking in his mere presence.
When they reached her front door, she looked for her keys with embarrassingly clammy hands.
As she lifted her head to ask Tom if he wanted to stay, she found his eyes impatiently boring into her bag.
“Would you-”
His gaze snapped to her, serious and scorching. “Don’t even ask.”
Something coiled between her legs at the way he was looking at her. She nodded and walked up the few stairs to her door, unlocking it.
“Second floor,” she said, more to fill the silence than anything else.
They stepped into the building, the sound of her heels and the soles of his shoes hitting the stone ricocheting through the empty hall.
She turned to gesture to him to follow her when he grabbed her face, kissing her as he pushed her against the wall by the foot of the stairs. Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging at it just as she suspected he loved by the way he always pressed himself harder against her.
He curved his palm around her cheek, better angling her face as their tongues met.
“I have a nosy neighbour,” she said after they pulled apart to catch their breath. “She is probably spying on us through her peephole.”
Tom didn’t think twice about it, taking her hand and leading her up to the second floor. She stifled a laugh as she unlocked the door, Tom’s lips skimming against her neck as she did, and was left breathless when he closed it unceremoniously behind them, resuming from where they had been interrupted.
As she dropped her bag and grabbed his waist, walking backwards into her living room, she remembered there were clothes somewhere - perhaps in the bathroom but she wasn’t sure - that she had forgotten to put away yesterday.
In any case, Tom didn’t look particularly interested in how tidy she was.
They quickly took off each other's coats and discarded them on the floor.
He sat on her sofa, pulling her down with him.
She was straddling him, her knees digging into the plush cushions as his hands appreciatively caressed her back, moving up and down and occasionally squeezing. She lit the fireplace with a wave of her hand.
She rocked her hips, rubbing against him and eliciting a long awaited moan from him. She grabbed the collar of his shirt, their lips collading so hard she was sure she cut him.
She helped him out of his jacket and vest and undid his tie, smoothing her hands on his white button-down.
“I’ve waited too long,” she said, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and grinding against him. Her hands disappeared under his undershirt and ran over his pale chest, lightly scratching his skin.
“Slowly, my dear. We will get there,” he replied between kisses.
His palms kept tracing her thighs and his face buried in her neck, nibbling at the thin skin.
When she was a small girl, before she discovered sex, Tom Riddle was just a boy she liked. During puberty, sharing stories and questions with her friends, she started to understand what was the sensation that passed through her everytime she was close to him, the one that made her cheeks redden and her mind go somewhere she wasn’t yet comfortable with.
As an adult, sexual relations weren’t unfamiliar to her, but this carnal longing, the need of a physicality that went beyond her skin touching his, was.
He opened her blouse, revealing her silk slip and bra underneath.
She wanted to touch his soul, to hold it and comprehend it.
Her eyes fell on the tattoo on his forearm, black tendrils of ink in the shape of a serpent slithering out of a skull.
“Does this have a meaning?” she asked.
He followed her gaze, blinking surprised at her question. “It does.”
“Am I prying too much if I say I’m curious to learn it?”
He bit his lip, opening and closing his fist as if he was scrambling for words. Or perhaps he was just determining if he could trust her.
“It’s a reinterpretation of the ouroboros, the snake eating its own tail,” he finally said. “It symbolises eternity and the renewal of the being after rebirth.”
She traced her fingers on his skin, following the outline of the snake. “And what does your interpretation mean?”
“There is time to talk about it later,” he whispered, his teeth biting her neck and sinking lower, kissing her collarbone and her sternum, moving the fabric covering her breasts to the side.
She let go of the subject. She knew what it meant not being comfortable sharing your life.
He held one breast between his fingers, latching his mouth over the other, sucking her nipple and twirling his tongue around it.
She moaned, rolling her hips faster as he revered her bosom, the cold air hitting her moist skin and making her shiver as he took her other nipple in his mouth, lightly tugging at it until she reached the point where pleasure and discomfort mixed.
“Since we are in the mood for confessions…” she said between moans. He raised his head and looked at her waiting for her to continue. She hesitated, collecting all her courage.
“Why did you pursue me?”
His eyes softened, glimmering with fondness. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
“Because there is something extremely valuable in your devotion.” His voice was an intimate murmur, a confession no one else could hear.
She freezed, turning her head to the side to hide her mortification.
He took her chin, searching for her eyes until she finally gave in.
“Don’t be embarrassed, darling, I respect it, I understand it. Obsession keeps us alive, it’s what drives us.”
She swallowed the lump of embarrassment in her throat. “Do you enjoy it?”
“Being the object of the desire of such a woman? Of a witch? I do,” he replied, and he was so direct and earnest that her heart swelled.
He lifted her to sit on the sofa, sliding down on his knees on the floor and taking off his shirt and vest. She remained silent as he rolled down her tights, his lips gliding down her smooth skin. He unbuttoned her skirt and helped her out of it, tracing patterns on her inner thigh as his other hand felt her damp underwear.
She tensed, something tightening in her lower abdomen and her eyes fell down to his trousers.
He kissed the crease of the thigh, like he had done that one time at Borgin and Burkes, but this time she wasn’t letting anyone interrupt them.
He took off her underwear, his movements deliberately slow, and kissed her everywhere, except there.
His lips felt hot on her skin, searing her flesh like she had often dreamed about, carving his way into her body the same way he had done with her mind and heart, until her entire soul was consumed by him, until he could finally close that fist and feel her in a way nobody had before.
Her breath hitched as he delicately kissed her mound, spreading her legs apart. She leaned her head against the backrest, licking her lips with anticipation, and she couldn’t contain a whimper as he felt his tongue dragging down her slit, sweet and cruel.
He took her clit in his mouth, sucking on it as his hand splayed on her abdomen to keep her still.
She squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed.
“Look at me, darling,” he murmured against her folds. His breath was warm and pleasant.
She obliged, meeting his devilish grinning figure between her legs. She was incapable of looking away as he resumed his work, she didn’t want to look away. She wanted to watch him, finally allowing herself to fully indulge in him, in what he wished to do for her.
She observed his curved eyelashes, the way his perceptive eyes followed her reactions, refining his movements to please her better.
He sucked her labia and she moaned loudly, the idea of him enjoying this as much as her being exhilarating.
He threw her leg on his shoulder, resulting in her figure sliding down the cushions and him gaining better access to her.
His tongue probed her entrance as he coated his fingers in her wetness. He slipped one finger in, working her thoroughly as she gripped his hair, keeping his head in place.
He inserted a second finger, his tongue on her clit moving accordingly to the delighted sounds she emitted.
“Tom,” she cried urgently as she tried to press herself harder against him.
He curled his fingers inside of her and her hips jolted upwards, arching her back to an uncomfortable angle as she reached her orgasm with lascivious bliss, her obscene moans matching the wet sounds he produced by licking her until she came down from her climax.
“Tom,” she said again, so breathless her voice was a raspy whisper.
“I know,” he said, kissing her leg and inhaling deeply, like he was trying to commit the moment to memory.
He brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean as she let her watch.
She gently pushed him onto the carpet, bracing her hands on his shoulder as she sat on top of him. The fire was burning, enveloping their almost naked figures in warm orange light, heating their already scalding skin.
She took off her blouse with quivery hands, his gaze tracing her naked form that was slowly revealing itself. She hooked her fingers into the straps of her slip, pulling it down and then getting rid of it altogether. His hands on her waist tensed as she did the same for her bra.
Her lips parted as he touched her breast with both hands, kneading the soft flesh, tracing her areolae.
She undid his trousers, pulling down the fabric until they were both completely naked. She took him in her hand, her fingers closing tentatively around him. Her hand started sliding up and down, her pace getting quicker and more confident as moans escaped him. She brushed her thumb on his tip, her eyes admiring what was in front of her. His lips were swollen, residue of her lipstick still on them, his hair was tousled, curls falling disorderly on his forehead, his eyes heavy-lidded as he looked at her. She felt a rush of satisfaction in knowing his current state was her doing, that she had enough power over him to ruin his flawless exterior, to make him want her to do it.
His lips caught hers and he gently pushed her hand away.
What happened after felt like rehearsed choreography, something so familiar it was impossible to forget. Their bodies moved together, their movements responsive to each other, doing and touching exactly where it mattered.
She pushed herself up on her knees, slowly lowering herself until she sank down on him completely, shuddering breaths escaping her lips.
His jaw was tense as she placed a hand on his shoulder for support, positioning herself better.
She didn’t break eye contact as she rolled her hips, soaking in the hazy blue of his eyes, in every twitch of his jaw and emotion he was feeling as she increased her pace, in his voice murmuring her name against her ear as his hands squeezed her tights and traced her back.
Skin slapped against skin, his touch inebriating as he felt every part of her, caressing her, massaging her, kissing her until she couldn’t take it anymore. Almost.
His hand dipped between her legs again, stroking her clit as she rocked her hips, eliciting groans from both of them.
Sentiment and pleasure fused together in an exhilarating moment, seared in her mind and flesh forever.
She kissed him again - she could never get tired of that - and bit his lower lip roughly as his other hand went to her breast again, pulling at her nipple.
She threw her head back, letting his mouth scrape over her neck and chest, leaving behind scorching wet kisses. Or perhaps those were marks reddening her skin, she didn’t particularly care.
He gripped her waist, thrusting upwards as she held onto him tighter. Her nails drew half-moons into his back and she bit his neck, the fibres of the carpet scratching her knees.
The lights in the flat fluttered momentarily.
His fingers increased the pressure on her clit as his thrusts grew in intensity with one purpose in mind.
She bit her lip, trying to hold back, to prolong this instant of pure bliss before she inevitably plummeted onto the other side.
She arched her back, moving accordingly to his rhythm, her hips bucking erratic as she rubbed against his pelvis.
And then she fell down, unrestrained, her walls closing around him as she moaned uncontrollably. He didn’t stop, drawing circles on her sensitive skin until her breath found a semblance of steadiness again.
“You did so good,” he whispered against her forehead, brushing a strand of sweaty hair away.
She slumped against him, her hands grabbing onto his biceps as he chased his own pleasure, his movements turning frantic, losing his rhythm.
She found herself murmuring against his skin the same things she had never had the courage to say out loud, not even to herself. She wasn’t sure he was even listening to her, engrossed as he was, but it didn’t matter.
He squeezed her tights once and she understood, rolling to the side as he deftly touched himself, fast strokes that culminated in white spurts all over his hand. She watched him mesmerised
He turned to look at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The fire casted shadows on his gorgeous face.
They stayed like that for a long moment, gazing into each other, trying to guess what the other was thinking, making sense of what remained of themselves after what had just happened.
Did it have the same momentous effect on both of them? Or was it just her that knew she couldn’t go back to being acquaintances after this?
“Do you want to stay here tonight?” she asked. Her voice sounded faint and husky to her own ears.
“I do,” he replied without a second of hesitation.
They didn’t get up, instead resting against the foot of her sofa. She curled up against him as his hand traced indistinct patterns on her skin, remaining in this haze of indiscernible unspoken feelings they were both still trying to find a name for.
When she woke up the next morning he was gone. As she took in the cold sheets and missing clothes, her heart threatened to crack.
She got up groggily, conclusions already forming in her mind, building the most pessimistic of pictures.
She felt anxious as she wore her robe and opened the door, heading straight for the bathroom. Halfway down the corridor, the sound of someone flipping through a newspaper halted her in her steps.
She stepped into the kitchen, finding Tom sitting in a chair with his legs crossed.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Good morning,” she said back, adjusting the belt of her robe.
She noticed he had made breakfast, a steaming coffee pot, kept warm by magic, and some pastries she had never bought waiting for her on the table.
She turned to take a mug from a cabinet so that she could hide her smitten smile. When she closed the cabinet, she found him looking at her.
There was no need for words.
“Where did you get that?” she asked as she poured herself some coffee, referring to the newspaper.
“I stole it from your neighbour, I hope she won’t mind.”
She laughed. “So you know how to make a joke.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
She sat next to him, crossing her legs. She perhaps needed to rethink her choice of slippers.
“You were always so serious growing up.”
She put a spoonful of sugar in her coffee.
“That never seemed to deter you.”
“It doesn’t.”
He took a sip of his own coffee. “Good.”
“Does it deter you, knowing how I feel?”
He blinked. “It never had. It makes it more interesting if I have to be honest.”
She blushed, scared to ask the next question.
“How long have you known?”
He got up, brushing his knuckles on her cheek.
“Long enough to see you for who you truly are.”
He bent to give her a chaste kiss. “I should go, the shop opens in half an hour.”
He put on his coat and grabbed his leather gloves from his pocket. She turned in her chair, treasuring the last few moments of him in her apartment.
“There’s still a lot you haven’t learned yet.”
She refused to be an open book to him. There was so much about her that was still incomprehensible even to her and too much she wanted to show him on her own terms. She wanted to be enigmatic, to drive him mad.
“I know.”
Her disappointment was visible on her face as she was met with his silence. She had wanted to continue that conversation, to learn what he had observed.
Instead he opened her front door, throwing her one last glance, heavy with unsaid intention she hoped she wasn’t imagining, before leaving.
She had almost finished her breakfast when she noticed a small note under the newspaper he had left behind. She grabbed it faster than she was willing to admit, almost knocking over her cup in the process, and unfolded it.
“Dinner tonight?
I’ll pick you up at eight.
T.R.”
the last part is a bonus scene i wanted to write to apologize for my tardiness. tom is a little different, but I hope he isn't too out of character.
i honestly had so much fun writing this short story and exploring a different tom from the one i usually read and write about. i hope you enjoyed this and thank you for reading!
#tom riddle x fmc#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle#tom riddle fic#tom riddle fanfic#tom riddle fanfiction#tom riddle smut#tom marvolo riddle#harry potter#hp fanfic#tom riddle x oc
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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
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#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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I let him hit it cause he says stuff like
"By Ahgharion's lost nose - no!"
thank you for your message!
that's definitely one of my favourite gale moments. it's very sweet.
it also led me down a rabbit hole to read more about who ahgharion is (i may have read abt him before, but not in depth) and what happened to his nose (lol); it was actually super interesting to find out more about him.
he was a human wizard and the first of open lord of waterdeep and lived a very long (he died at +300 years old) and eventful life, which was deeply intertwined with the city he lived in and helped shape:
"There shall come a time when our city and its deepwater bay shall grow in fame and fortune across many realms and many worlds. Folk shall know of Waterdeep, our City of Splendors, and sing its praises. I have seen it thus, and I endeavor to make it true."
— Ahghairon, circa 1032 DR
Ahghairon was known by several names during his youth, but went by only his first name during his time in Waterdeep.
Ahghairon was born on Midsummer's Night, in the Year of Great Riches, 920 DR. He was named after his great-grandfather. Legends say that the symbol of Mystra was glowing in the sky at the time. [x]
he's also remembered with a holiday in waterdeep:
(these are all from volo's waterdeep enchiridion.)
ahghairon also constructed his own wizard tower and it still stands within the city:
a large statue was built in his honour and it's located in the city of the dead in waterdeep:
Ahghairon's Statue was located in the central section of the City of the Dead near the entryway.
Made completely from marble, the tall statue depicted a detailed representation of the bearded wizard Ahghairon as an old man in his prime. The smiling statue stood atop a series of concentric steps and faced west toward the entryway into the City of the Dead with hands outstretched. Torches lit the steps at night.
Ahghairon's Statue: This tall, marble sculpture is an incredibly lifelike sculpture of the bearded, robed mage in his prime (at a mere 70 winters). Ahghairon stands atop concentric steps, facing west with his hands outstretched to indicate the City of Waterdeep around him, and the statue has a smile on his face. The steps are lit by night with rows of torches, and are a favorite meeting-spot by day.
the statue is what is referenced in gale's tiefling party dialogue by the devs:
Gale: By Ahghairon's lost nose - no!
devnote: This is a statue in Waterdeep's burial district
apparently the statue is missing its nose? i couldn't find the idiom anywhere else and nothing related to ahghairon himself, only this one here:
which i sort of referenced in my 'doth thy mirror crack' meta post.
anyhow, sorry for rambling. this got away from me. 🖤 i just really like the little pieces here and there that show gale's deep connection to waterdeep.
#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#waterdeep#baldur's gate 3#bg3#baldurs gate 3#bg3 meta#ch: gale dekarios#vg: baldur's gate 3#series: baldur's gate#meta: mybg3#text: asks
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About a Girl: Chapter 4
Beautiful header by my beloved @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog
Joel Miller x Trans!Fem!Reader (Nickname, Blue)
Series Masterlist : The Last of Us Masterlist : Full Masterlist
Summary: For week 2 of my pride event: Transitioning. Not a whole not of Blue and Joel but getting there. Lots of people involved in this story lol! We learn more about Blue's transition. Next chapter will get more with those two's relatioship.
Warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter: 18+ ONLY!! I cannot warn against everything, but these are major themes. Joel is a lil ignorant but not out of hate. He just doesn't know. He's trying his best. There will be smut. Penetrative sex, all of the anal play, oral. There will be transphobia from other people. Addiction and alcoholism. QUICK child neglect not by Joel but I promise, Sarah is fine and is having a great time in life. Fetishization of women attracted to women by a shitty guy. Will update as needed. Again, this is adult content. Expect adult content.
Immersivity: Reader is transgender, AMAB female, reader has had gotten bottom surgery, not top, and is on hormones. reader has visible hair and a blue streak in hair, but not described. Could be braids, could be natural hair, whatever. Header is for aesthetics only. Reader is about Joel and Tommy's height. Let me know if i miss anything!
TRANS LIVES MATTER! TRANS YOUTH MATTER! TRANS ELDERLY MATTER! TRANS WOMEN MATTER! TRANS MEN MATTER! NON BINARY TRANS MATTER!
Joel nervously hovered as Sarah sat in the kitchen on a stool, kicking her feet while Talia looked at her hair.
“And then Ellie kicked him!” She was recounting the thrilling story of how a boy was being mean to Sarah, said her hair was weird because she wore it natural today. Sarah was the only black kid in her kindergarten. Apparently her new friend Ellie was very defensive, aggressive where Sarah was gentle, and didn’t take kindly to the boy's words. Ellie ended up in time out again, and a call to her foster mom.
“I ain’t saying he deserved it.” Talia sang, feeling out Sarah curls. “But God’s timing is always right.”
Joel smiled at her. He wasn’t going to agree, he didn’t want to be the one condoning violence… but he always wasn’t going to lose sleep at night. “Well, don’t listen to a thing he says, baby girl.” Joel walked around to face his daughter. “You’re the prettiest girl on the planet, with the coolest hair I’ve ever seen, and Miss Talia here is going to teach me how to make it even cooler.”
Sarah turned to Talia. “Are you going to marry my daddy?”
Joel opened hi mouth to say no, but Talia’s bright laugh answered for him. He turned to Talia with a smile that let her know he was joking. “Hey know, I don’t think I’m that bad.”
“It ain’t you, Joel.” She patted his back, easing him. “It’s the equipment you’re working with.” She turned back to Ellie. “No baby, but if I play my cards right, I might marry your aunt.”
Sarah squealed a giggle and Talia took her off the stool.
“Good.” Sarah confirmed, walking off to the TV. “Mommy wouldn’t like that.”
Joel and Talia looked at each other, Joel questioning gently. “Did mommy say something, sweetheart?”
Flopping on the couch and sighing dramatically as if she’d just gotten home from a 12 hour shift, Sarah replies, “Yeah she asked if you were dating Aunt Tess. I said no, she’s dating Uncle Tommy.” Talia giggled at that. “She said to tell her if you were dating someone and I said okay.” Sarah’s head popped up over the couch, sensing her dads distress. “That’s okay, right daddy? Lying is bad.”
Closing his eyes for a bit longer than a standard blink, Joel considered his next words. Of course it was okay that Sarah said what she thought. Joel didn’t want her in the habit of lying, especially to her mom. However, he also didn’t want Sarah to feel like she had to be Kayla’s spy. That wasn't fair to her, and Joel was careful not to pry Sarah for information on Kayla’s living conditions or the people around her apartment. That wasn’t something a 5-year-old needed to worry about. He tried to make the most neutral sounding comment he could. “You should always tell me and mommy the truth, babygirl, you did good.”
Sarah smiled and went back to her TV. “Oh! I love this show.” The Soprano’s was on.
“No, absolutely not-”
“But Uncle Tommy-”
“Sarah.”
He’d have to talk to Tommy about watching violent TV with Sarah. Why couldn’t Tommy just be… not himself. He turned back to Talia, who was smiling.
“I see why Blue likes you so much.”
Joel waved her off with a blushing face. He was nothing special. “What's the verdict, doc?” Joel shuffles nervously, hands in his pockets. Did I ruin my sweet baby's hair forever?
This made Talia laugh again. Joel noticed she laughed a lot. Tess always did like joyful people, that’s why she always got on with Tommy so well, both as friends and friends with benefits. He wondered why she even liked him at all.
“No, Joel. It looks very healthy. You oil her hair?”
“Yeah, Argon oil.”
“Hair bonnet.”
Joel internally cringed. “I tried, she won’t keep it on.”
“That’s okay.” She eased his worries. “Try a scarf or a silk pillowcase. If she doesn’t like the feeling on her face, the world won’t end until she’s older and is ready to keep a bonnet on. Her mama wear bonnets or scarves?”
He shook his head. “Not unless it’s changed the last few years. She has hair not unlike mine.”
Talia nods. “Well, honestly I think everyone could benefit from wearing scarves, but that’s just me. I know y’all ain’t got the best relationship, but maybe mention it to her. Little girls love matching their moms. How often do you wash it?”
“Twice a week, unless she’s been running around a lot. Her and Tommy like playing soccer in the park.”
“Just once a week is fine, unless it’s one of those sweaty days. Natural oils are good for her hair. I know you’re a busy man, but if you get time, I’d suggest you get some coconut oil, sit her in front of a TV, section out her hair and really rub it into her scalp, like a massage. Helps stimulate hair growth and keeps from drying, but, Joel I mean this sincerely.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re doing a good job. I know this isn’t easy, especially as a single parent but you are doing everything for that baby, so go a little easy on yourself.”
He tried to brush it off. “I’m just doing what any parent would do.”
“You’re doing a lot more than many, hon.”
After going through more hair tips, Joel is about to call over Sarah so Talia can show her some new hairstyles, she stops him.
“Hey, Blue told me how things went… I really appreciate you being respectful. She’s my best friend, I knew her before she transitioned… It really hasn’t been easy, especially the early years of it all.” She smiled sadly. “She was in a bad place. At the time, she was living as a gay man in Austen’s gay community, but coming out hadn’t helped. Things got really bad.”
Joel’s heart hurt for you, wondering how many years you suffered. “What happened?” His eyes widened a bit. “Sorry, shit, you don’t gotta say anything.”
But Talia gave him the short version. “I’m sure she’ll tell you all of it. She’s pretty open about it with the people who know she’s trans. The Austen gay scene… well unfortunately, there’s not a lot of queer places that don’t involve drinking, and given that half of us are disowned by family and rejected from society, there's a big issue of drinking and drugs in the community. An issue she both fell into. After our friend who’d taken us in, Jeff, died of AIDS, she took it really hard.” She shook her head at the memory.
Joel didn’t know much about AIDs, it seemed no one really talked about it and people acted like it was a gay STD, or that one kid that got it from a blood transfusion. Reagan never even mentioned it, so was it really a big issue? All he knew is that dying of AIDS was a slow death, watching someone waste away like that couldn’t be easy.
“After he died, she spent months in his apartment, drinking away and being piss-drunk every time I came over. But I also noticed her going through Jeff’s books and his writings… he was a college professor for sociology, and talked a lot about gender. One day she just emerged, asked to be called a woman and help looking like that version of herself. We picked names, got clothes. I tried not to get too excited and overwhelm her,” She chuckled. “But as a stylist, it was right up my ally.”
It was obvious how much Talia cared about Blue. “Thank you.” He said earnestly, and she made a funny face.
“For what?”
Joel crossed his hands over his chest. “For being there for her when I couldn’t be.”
“She’s been there for me every step of my way making it in this world as a black lesbian, I’ll be with her through everything. Now!” Talia clapped her hands together. “Tess and I were talking, but if you’re comfortable with it, we’d love to take Miss Sarah to the salon I work at, give her a spa day, deep clean, deep conditioner, all that. Tess and I know how hard it is for you to get time away. We also know you feel guilty when you do anything for yourself, so this way you know your princess is getting spoiled.”
As much as he wanted to say no… she was right. Sarah would have a great day with some positive female influences, and Joel could spend some time with you. Win/Win.
*
“She wanted to wear her princess dress today, so if she gets it dirty or anything, I swear it ain’t no big deal. I can get another one at the Family Dollar, easy.” Joel spoke to Tess while he tried to fix the bailer. One of the belts broke and he caught it in time which made it easier without it getting bunched up. Tess was inside the bailer. It was a two man job.
“You’re awfully hard on him Joel.”
Joel set down the riviter, it was Tess’s job now. “I’ve actually been mean’n to talk to yuh ‘bout that…”
“Uh-oh, am I in trouble, dad?”
“No, no, not like that I just…” He sighs, putting down his tools. “I know Tommy’s been have’n a hard time and I tolerated the drink’n… It’s the coke I got an issue with.”
Tess nodded, understanding as she retreaded to the belt to the bailer’s teeth. “He told me you were pretty upset with him the other day.”
“And what did you say to him?”
“I told him it was your home, and if you don’t want him high there, you can make that rule.”
Sighing, Joel pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, Tess, that’s not- I don’t want him doing coke, doing MDMA, doing molly-”
“Hey! Molly’s a nice girl!” She joked, but then went straight faced when she saw Joel didn’t find it funny. “Sorry, but I don’t know what you want me to do-”
“Stop giving him the drugs!” Joel shouted, not too loud immediately regretting it.
There was a long pause as she focused on her work before speaking. “I don’t know who the hell you are speaking to like that, Miller, but it sure as hell better not be me.”
“”M Sorry.”
“I know you are but you-” A clank, and Tess grumbled some swears. “Hold on. I’m done down here just- fuck.” Tess climbed out of the bailer, making eye contact with Joel. “Let’s get one thing straight. I am not pushing drugs on Tommy. We both know the same guy, and when one of us is out, we share, but you know damn well my crazy days are starting to fly past me. I’ve even been dating the same person a whole ass month. You’re brother does what he wants to do and I am neither his baby sitter nor keeper. I’ve kept that kid alive the last 2 years when he’s having a bad trip so I really don’t appreciate you talk’n down to me like I’m some bad influence on a 16 year old. He’s a grown ass man and can make his own choices. Terrible choices sometimes, but his own choices.”
Joel looked down, ashamed of his outburst. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just… worried, but that ain’t your business.”
She stared at him with a hardened face, wanting to be angry… but it was Joel. Her posture softened. “It’s alright Joel. I know you worry about it.”
He shook his head. “Ain’t right to take it out of yuh, Tess.” He went back to work, but felt a hand on his back.
“No, but I forgive you, so forgive yourself. You’re really bad at that.” Tess kissed him cheek.
Joel cleared his throat. “Kayla was ask’n Sarah ‘bout you again.”
Brushing off the last few minutes, Tess laughed out loud. “Oh great, she gonna show up at my door at 2 am again?”
He groaned.
*
“You just have SO MUCH fun, princess, okay? Gonna look even prettier than ever!” Tommy hugs Sarah goodbye for her special day. Tess promises she’ll take care of dinner and bring her home around 7, in time for her bedtime. Bedtime will likely be delayed as Sarah will want to tell Joel every single detail, but it was a friday. No big deal.
“Bye uncle Tommy! Bye daddy!”
Joel waves her off, watching as Tess louds Sarah into the carseat and safely buckles her up, taking her off for a few hours. Joel was lucky to have Tess in his life, and was hoping she stuck with Talia… he liked her a lot too.
As they drive away, Blue pulls right up. She had been parked down the street, politely waiting for Sarah to leave. Joel hoped to properly introduce them one day, but right now it was still so new.
His phone rang, Kayla again. “Tommy, can you tell Blue I’ll be out in a min?” He clicked answer, and Tommy ran out to check out the bike.
“Hey Kayla, what’s up?”
“Is Sarah there?”
Hi. Hello. How are you, Joel. Thanks for taking care of my daughter, Joel. “No, sorry, she just left with Tess. I can call yuh back when they get home this evening.”
“What’s she doing with Tess.”
He wasn’t lying. He just didn’t need to tell her what he was doing while she was gone. “Tess’s girlfriend, Talia, she has a hair salon. Gonna give her some deep conditioner and stuff like that. Make a spa day off it. She even set up a little tea party fancy dinner after.”
“Tess has a girlfriend?”
“Yeah, been dating a few weeks now. Seem’s very nice, she was over helping me learn some styles for Sarah. Don’t worry, Tess will be with them the whole time and I trust her.”
Kayla sighed over the phone. “Joe, I really don’t want her in that environment.”
“What environment?” Joel was genuinely curious.
“I mean, it’s bad enough she says things like ‘Frank’s husband’, I don’t need her knowing about lesbians too.”
“Kayla-”
“She don’t need ideas in her head. For fucks sake Joel, she’s only five. It’s bad enough they wanna teach this shit in schools-”
“Kayla.” He spoke more firmly now. “I really thought you grew out of this.”
“You used to agree with me!”
“No, I didn’t!” But that wasn’t entirely true. Joel was raised very religious, thinking it was all a sin until he teens. When Joel and Kayla began having sex, it went against everything he’d been taught about sexual purity. He honestly just spoked caring what grown adults did in bed. He was surprised Kayla cared this much. “Bill and Frank have been good to me, they took a chance on me when no one else did-”
“Because no one wants to work for fag-”
“Kayla!” Joel shouts, and this time he doesn’t regret it. His blood is boiling, thinking of Bill and Frank, of Tess and Talia, of you. “They’ve treated me like their own, and I won’t have you disrespect them or Tess in front of me again. Tess has been around Sarah consistently the last few years, something you can’t say you’ve done. I trust her with my life and more importantly, my daughter. Tess has never abandoned her to get fucked.” He referenced Kayla’s abandonment change. “And just so you know, I’m seeing someone. It’s very early so Sarah hasn’t met her, so you can stop putting our child in the middle of your jealousy.”
Silence, and then she hung up. This would probably come back to bite him.
He had no idea where that all came from, how much had been building up inside him waiting to come out. His heart was still pumping with anger and anxiety. How could she think like that after everything Bill and Frank and Tess have done for Sarah? How could she not have grown up at all since high school?
Joel found Tommy outside, riding the motorcycle up and down the street, slowly and with a helmet. Seems Blue was protective too. Your back turned to him, Joel walked up and hugged you tightly, tucking his face in your neck. “I missed you, Blue.” It’d only been a week, but it was too long.
“Joel? You okay?” She reached up to hold where Joel’s arms have wrapped around her chest. “You’re shaking, baby?”
“Much better now, Blue.” Yeah, he was shaking. He was still angry, but your touch was calming him. He chastly pecked your cheek. “I got your back, okay?” You didn’t need to know Kayla’s remarks. You just needed to know Joel would take care of you.
*
Joel had never ridden on a motorcycle before, and he held your shoulders like a victorian dutchess. Still, it was so fun seeing him get off the bike with a gleeful smile, helmet hair going every which way with a wild look in his eyes. Joel had packed you a sweet dinner for outside, and you two both sat on the blanket.
“How come you rejected Tommy?” Joel asked, mouthful of food. They were on a picnic, enjoying the nice weather before it got cold.
You laughed at that. “What do you mean?”
Joel shrugged earnestly. “Tommy’s always been girls' first choice. He’s younger, cooler, more handsome, more fun.”
You lean over to kiss his forehead. “He’s not as handsome as you.”
Joel smiled at that, but still teased. “But he is cooler.”
“Well, Tommy can at least name a Nirvana album. You’re still listening to Alan Jackson.”
“Nevermind.”
“Oh no,” You giggle, reaching for a pickle. “You don’t get to just change the subject-”
“No.” Joel shakes his head. “Nevermind. The album. That’s that band you like, right?”
Your hands drop to your lap. “How did you know that.”
He wouldn’ meet your eye. “A very nice lady at the library when I took Sarah on tuesday who I could tell was trying not to laugh at me… She informed me of the song you got excited about at the bar and I checked out the CD.”
Chuckling, Joel responded. “Well, I can’t say I like the yell’n… but Something in the Way was good, and I liked Come as You Are.”
Your eyes sparkled, your cute little smile… “You listened to a whole album just for me…”
“Yeah I mean, I can tell you liked ‘em. Ain’t no big deal.”
But it was to you. No one did stuff like that for you, no one cared that much outside of Talia. Joel Miller, as always, made your heart sore to new heights.
“I appreciate that, Joel. You’re sweet, you know that?” You watched him blush. He was so cute like this, your nervous man.
After dinner, you laid down on his chest, basking with the sun on your back and a cool breeze on your arms, Joel holding you tightly. Jesus christ, his arms were huge. She traced a vein on his biceps.
“How did you get so…”
He kissed the top of your head. “So what?”
You giggle, burying your face into his pecks. “Big.” You’re laughing so hard you’re shaking.
“BIG?!?!?” He bawks, and you can feel his chest move as he laughs.
“You’re fucking HUGE!!!”
Joel wrapped you up in arms, turning you over until the two of you are rolling around in the field, grass in your hair as you both squeal and laugh. This was the life.
Litle more on Blue and how she found herself <3 Net weeks theme is sex/kissing so!!!!!!! v them focused!!!
We love Talia here, just an absolute sweetheart ride or die.
shout out to my IRL buddy who farms for helping m with farming info!!
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#Joel miller#Joel Miller x reader#trans reader#transfem!reader#Joel Miller x trans reader#thou fanfiction#joel miller tlou#joel the last of us#joel x reader#Tommy miller#tess servopoulos#bill and frank#thou hbo#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#Joel Miller fanfiction#joel miller fanfic#joel miller smut#dad joel miller#bi tess#bi tess servopoulos#good uncle tommy miller#OscarPedroPrideEvent2024#about a girl series
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Hello hello hello my darling dear! I was wondering if you could perhaps make do with my request?
It’s a Alastor (HH) x fem reader. The reader and Al were in a romantic relationship when they were alive back in the 1930’s (you can choose if she knew if he was a psycho or not). He was in his early thirties and the reader was around twenty, she was youthful and beautiful. Alastor died first in 1933 and arrived in Hell. Many years later the reader and Alastor met up again in the hotel. They talk and tell how much they missed each other, over their conversation Alastor tells the reader he wants to continue their relationship from where they left off. He asks if she still feels the same way for him (even though he’s a crazy radio demon now). The thing is for the reader while Alastor died when he was relatively young, the reader actually lived to see her 60th birthday. Her new form is much older then Alastor’s and it’s very obvious that she is self-conscious about her old age.
She tells Alastor yes, but look at her. She’s not the same young and beautiful dame she used to be and he looks just as young like how he was when he was alive. Surly he wouldn’t want to be some old lady, old enough to be in early retirement. How would Al react to his darling’s new inaccuracy? Thank you so much for your time and have a blessed day!
hello my dear! i absolutely adore this idea! writing for this radio demon is a lot of fun and takes a lot of creativity and this idea was amazing and so well put together, might I add! i hope you have an amazing day as well, my dear and hope you enjoy your request!
Never Even Apart - Alastor
Pairing - Alastor x f!reader
Warnings - none! (and i do understand that Alastor is aro and ace and i fully respect that, i just love writing for him! all of my love and respect to the aro and ace community!!!)
Word Count - 809
Notes - thank you so so so so much anon! ALSO THE HAZBIN NEWS AHHHH! it's apparently coming out in the summer of 2023 and i am currently losing my mind. (that's also why i wrote this today lol). i hope you enjoy anon! have a lovely day!! <3
It was a beautiful day, even considering that Alastor was in the pits of Hell. There were demonic birds chirping and the burning sun was greeting the hotel with a smile.
Alastor smiled as he did the dishes, humming himself a familiar tune. He knew something was missing from this new life, but he had learned to deal with it. Cope. That's all he had to do.
“Um, Alastor?” Charlie stuck her head in the room with a nervous smile. “There’s someone new I'd like to introduce you to.”
“Oh, just bring them in, doll. I'm a little busy right now.” He tightened his apron and began to hum louder.
“O-Okay,” Charlie stepped out of the kitchen. “I'll be right back.”
It was amusing. This whole hotel thing. It made Alastor entertained and that’s all that was important. Who knows, maybe this new member would entertain him too.
“Here she is, Alastor!” Charlie’s voice sounded nervous, but that was usual of her.
Alastor quickly dried his hands and turned around, his signature smile dropping immediately. It was… you.
He didn't notice that he had dropped a plate beneath him, quickly shattering on the kitchen floor.
“O-Oops!” Charlie giggled nervously and went to grab a dust pan.
“Charlie,” Alastor’s voice sounded different… less radio static involved. “I've got it. Do you mind leaving our new friend and I alone for a little bit?” His eyes didn't move from you once.
“S-Sure.” Charlie quickly left the room and you threw yourself onto him. How could you not recognize that handsome face? That voice? Those eyes?
Alastor quickly picked you up off of the ground and twirled you in a circle before setting you back down, locking his eyes to yours. “Doll… Is that really you?”
You nodded and grabbed Alastor’s clawed hands. “It is really me, Al.”
Your voice was just as soothing as he remembered.
“This can't be real…” He could feel his soulless eyes filling with tears. “Can it?”
You giggled and hugged him again. “I finally died, Al!”
He laughed at your dark joke and held you close. “How did it happen, love? Not dogs, I hope.”
You shook your head and breathed him in. He smelt just the same. Like musk and sweet cologne. “The mafia.”
Alastor laughed out loud and looked at you with a skeptical eyebrow. “The mafia?”
“Turns out they have a big problem with actors who sign their lives away to the illuminati. It's quite funny though, I was nearly retired.” You laughed softly at your own joke and sighed at your nearly wrinkled hands knowing for a fact that you had far too many smile lines and wrinkles on your forehead. Alastor looked so young and you looked so… old.
“Well at least you made it past thirty.” Alastor chuckled and hung up his apron that he untied from his body. “Now let's catch up, dear. Pull up a chair will you?”
---
You know that you sounded like a schoolgirl in love when you sighed at Alastor. It had been years. Too long.
“I'm just glad to hear that you had a good life, my love.” Alastor smiled and slid his hand over to yours.
“I'm glad you’re making the most out of it down here.” Your smile was sincere, but you felt so old next to him. He used to be the one older than you.
“I think we should pick up where we left off, don't you think?” Alastor kept his eyes locked onto yours as he pressed a soft kiss onto your knuckles.
“Oh, I don't know,” you giggled and pulled away, your face turning bright red. “I mean look at me.”
“The image of beauty as always?”
“No,” you gave him a playful smack and looked at yourself in the reflection of some nearby silverware. “I'm not the same beautiful and young dame I once was, Al. You still look young. Surely you wouldn't want to date some old woman now!” The thought made you laugh, but you were quickly interrupted by Alastor.
“What are you talking about? I mean look,” Alastor took a sip of his coffee and gave you a loving look. “You may have died at an older age, but if I'm being honest, I wouldn't have guessed you were that old when you got here. You look great for your age, love.” He gave you a smirk and placed another kiss onto your knuckles.
“Oh, Al.” Your face turned red and you giggled as he laid kisses up your arm.
“You haven't answered my question, dearest?” His eyes were sultry and full of love. How could you say no?
“Well of course, my dear. I would love to pick up where we left off.” You leaned over the table and pressed your lips to his. It was like you two were never even apart.
#alastor#alastor x reader#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin#hazbin hotel#hazbin x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor the radio demon#request#anon#writing#my writing#fanfic#fanfiction#<3#thank you!! <3
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sooooo!! things that have happened:
depressive episode. bad times. a bit better now, but
libido tragically low. but
still want to post to this blog--have some fun polls and stuff coming up! sometimes i like kink even when not horny yknow??
i have been dressing up as a clown for various halloween things and i think this is my gender now, and i think i might never stop.
listen to me. do *not* let your blocklist go unchecked for like a month. don't do it!! fucking hell the youths have been out in full force like??? not even being subtle about it lol
also i can't believe i'm saying this/have never said it before but. apparently. my fingers auto-hit the block button when faced with a HP profile pic and your Hogwarts house before your age in your bio.
blocking aside HIIII?!?!? i have so many new hot followers,, like omg, i need all of you t4ters in my inbox like yesterday,, (low libido notwithstanding lol)
my owner made the decision to break my 4-month denial plan last weekend. i really,, really fucking needed it bc depression.... playing w my hair and kicking my feet for owners who are so caring of their pets' mental health n change kink plans accordingly <333
fucking hell and i came so hard,, u all have no idea
i miss u. i love u. but full stop, pressuring me to come back/whining for new content gets you auto-blocked for my sanity.
gonna post some asks n some polls. won't be my usual edged-out content but i still hope u enjoy until im back to normal!
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more spoiler talk under the cut
okay i've been marinating with my thoughts for a bit but i have to let them out.
i've been keeping up with jjk since 2021. i watched the anime and then immediately started reading and caught up with the manga in like 2 days. back then, the shibuya incident had just wrapped up. i was keeping up weekly, and i think by the time the part with maki slaughtering the zenin clan came around was when i started to think like "damn... the pacing is kinda wonky here". i think around that time is also when gege stated he wanted to end the manga in like 2 years... now we all know that didn't come true but it's clear that we're relatively close to the end. and saying it back then, that meant gege believed the end was in sight... i had a feeling from then it was gonna be rushed lol.
i kinda fell off reading jjk bc i was getting bored of waiting for weekly releases, and it wasnt til last year when gojo vs sukuna was happening (while season 2 was coming out) that i picked up the manga again. the fight was pretty exciting, especially with all the memes, but i remember thinking that it was all so... drawn out for no reason because we all knew exactly how the fight was gonna end. and i was right lol. personally, i don't hate the fact that gojo died. i was sad of course, but my main issue with it has always been that i feel it wasn't handled well and ultimately, i don't think it is the perfect way to wrap up his character arc. i find it pretty bleak, actually, especially in a story that (stated within the text itself) is supposed to be about hope, love, and powering through the pain.
i fully believe that one month time-skip between gojo's unsealing and the showdown was a terrible decision. it was a miss opportunity for gege to make us care more about his bond with the other students. though honestly, this isn't so shocking considering how much the series lacks moments between characters in general, but really... with a month, there was no reason at all to NOT show us this other than gege just wanting to get on with the fight and get gojo out of the story.
aside from that weird timeskip i honestly believe gojo was acting weirdly out of character and stupidly from the moment he came back. why not just kill sukuna and kenjaku the moment he was unsealed rather than letting sukuna prepare? especially when knowing the world is at risk lol?? we could argue that maybe he doesn't want to hurt megumi, but in the fight he had no qualms about launching buffed hollow purples at him sooo... idk, i know it's to push the plot forward, but it's such a dumb decision from a character that's supposed to be smart that it's a bit difficult to overlook. then there's his non-reaction to nanami and no mention of nobara... i get that people in his world die all the time, but really? he really said "damn that's crazy" about nanami and didn't even acknowledge nobara. ON TOP OF THAT is how he's just suddenly cool with gakuganji even though we know gakuganji is one of the conservative old fools? the same guy that killed yaga? and he's chill about it?
i mention all this to hammer this idea that already, gojo's acting ooc. i personally felt like his death chapter at the airport was a major punch in the face, not because i was sad about his character dying, but because of how it was handled and how he was characterized. apparently all he cared about was being strong and fighting? i'm sorry, literally everything else in the manga prior to his unsealing indicated that gojo actually cared about other people lol. it just... felt like such a cheap justification for why his and sukuna's fight had to happen. granted, i did enjoy that fight and do enjoy their dynamic, but that fight itself is honestly probably the last real high point of the manga.. and even then i have some gripes with the execution lol
in this chapter, and from the beginning, really, we're also hammered in this point that gojo wanted to foster the youth to become stronger than him. he could not beat sukuna alone, but gojo believes that the combined strength of his students can take sukuna down. it wasn't just a battle of the strongest, but a battle of ideologies going on here.
and THAT is why i really, truly hate the developments of the most recent chapter. so, gojo's students and the other sorcerers have thrown everything they possibly can at sukuna, and it's still not enough? so they... bring back gojo? only, it's not actually gojo, it's one of his students using kenjaku's technique to take over his body to use his technique. i ask, then, what the FUCK was the point of writing gojo out of the story if gege's just going to bring him back in this unconventional way. not only does it just reintroduce this issue had in the first place of gege having an overpowered character he didn't know how to write around, but now they're basically like... yeah actually we do need gojo's power to finish this. like... that's not the students being stronger, that's just gojo again basically. and the editor even acknowledges this by referring to this as a revenge match!! and i really want to reiterate that i did NOT want gojo to come back. the damage has been done and i don't believe bringing him back would have fixed the damage gege did to his character. i wanted it to be a hallucination to signal sukuna is close to losing, and that his life has been so lonely and meaningless that when on death's door, he sees gojo. that would've been interesting and compelling!! but noooooo gege just has to pull some contrived, bullshit plot twist because that's what he loves to do
i have other gripes (treatment of female characters, pacing like i mentioned, tsumiki's non-existence as a character, poor character development of major characters overall, the over-use of character death to the point that it's become boringly predictable, poor world-building), but this is long enough and i think you get the idea that i have a lot of shit to talk abt this series.
anyway, my increasing dissatisfaction with jjk has negatively impacted my muse tbh, and that's honestly why my activity has been so sparse. i'm losing interest because something that used to bring me a lot of joy is honestly just making me frustrated more than anything else, and i think it's really sad because i do really love the characters, and at one point i did love the series. aw well. i still cling onto a tiny hope that gege is cooking for a great payoff, but idk...
#╰┈➤ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴅɢᴇ ᴏꜰ ɪɴꜰɪɴɪᴛʏ ꒰ ooc. ꒱#jjk leaks#this is REALLY LONG and i kinda get carried away but i promise there is a reason
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BG3 EPILOGUE STUFF
since i had a save from just before the final battle and, for one, had been dying for details all afternoon: this is from a game where i was durge and romanced astarion.
It's in the slightly random order of "who I happened to talk to in whatever order."
MINSC: Taking his job of "working with" the Guild seriously, and shows up to the party with a random thief he had been in the middle of dangling from a high tower. Says he visits Astarion a lot, but that Astarion keeps accidentally forgetting to tell him when he moves. You can ask him if there are others from the first Bhaal crisis left alive, because you're studying it.
OWLBEAR CUB: Been having fun fighting! You can suggest he settle down with Halsin or Shadowheart (I picked Halsin) and he's very excited.
SHADOWHEART: Says she's almost surprised you came; you can joke "what, just because I don't have a butler anymore?" and she says she was worried, but is glad to see that old memories haven't kept you away. She's found a little cottage in the country and is having a nice time living peacefully. Her parents are doing well, and her mother is teaching her to cook. She also has EVERY SINGLE pet she can find. Just gone from full goth princess to cottagecore.
You can tell her that you went Candlekeep to research Bhaalspawn history, and you agree you'll keep in more proactive touch.
JAHEIRA: The Bhaal temple is still standing, but she assures you it's empty, thanks to you. Jord has joined the Harpers, and Rion has rejoined the Flaming Fist, and is spending her time bullying them. Jaheira is mildly/proudly worried they'll kick her out. Again. She's wrangling Harpers and working to rebuilt Baldur's Gate. She asks if you plan on starting a family of your own, and you can tell her that you plan on letting Bhaal's line die with you.
VOLO: He's writing a tell-all, and says he's gotten very good at faking your signature for the disclosures. He wants to call it "The Hero and Me," and you can suggest "The Bhaalspawn 2." He doesn't think you should think of yourself as a mere sequel.
KARLACH: "I've missed you, you old Bhaalspawn. Oh - do you not want to me to call you the B-word any more?" You can joke that your "army" is bath salts and scented candles, tell her that everyone slips up from time to time, or brag about not thinking about it AND not killing anyone in six months. The answer I picked: "I see my blood not as a curse, but a duty. I have been studying Bhaal, so I can fight him, if his cult ever strikes again."
Karlach and Wyll have been having a lot of fun fighting and surviving hell. She feels a lot better, and tells you about their plan to heist a new heart for herself. You promise to meet up again.
WYLL: Mizora hasn't been bothering him much, sending him after legitimate demons and evils. She's set him on a new mission he doesn't know the details of, but apparently his target is a devil. He's happy to be traveling with Karlach. He's been able to visit Baldur's Gate and his father a few times, and dad's doing well, leading the city and rebuilding. No Bhaalspawn talk.
HALSIN: He's still hanging out in the former Shadowlands, and Moonrise has been torn down to make new houses. He gives you a wooden duck. No Bhaalspawn talk.
LAE'ZEL: Is just on her full YA Youth Hero phase. Has been fighting and leading and just being super cool, allying with the githzerai. She's currently a dipomat, and you can be like "lol, seriously?" She's amused and says you taught her that diplomacy and words are as sometimes as important as a blade. She's clearly joking around a bit (she calls herself bossy and that it's her charm), but as deadpan as ever.
GALE: HE'S A PROFESSOR, school of illusion. As a sorceror, you can say you're surprised he's only teaching one school, and he agrees and admits he offered to teach them all, before being told he had to pick one. He talks about how much he likes illusion and imagination, and so now I feel like I have to make him illusionist in my runs. He gave the Crown to Mystra, and feels great relief to have the Orb gone. He clearly really, really loves teaching and spends his time trying to make his students love magic as much as he does. He complains they sleep a lot, and Tara butts in to call them cheeky and offers to swipe them.
He asks what you're up to, and you can joke you're napping and thinking of becoming a massage therapist — he jokes that he's glad you found a new career, but maybe leave off your "neck snapping" past when meeting clients. Gale offers you a "guest lecturer" spot, and you can remark that "the healing of my cranial trauma would be a prime case study for the school of Evocation." Gale invites you to stay in his — SORRY, TARA, OUR — tower.
TARA: YOU CAN PSPSPSPSPSP TARA. She does not deign to respond. She asks if you're the one who helped Gale with the Absolute, and if you politely say that Gale helped you, she doubts it very much — obviously he's the hero. She then invites you to visit them, and if you accuse her of having no respect for the "co-savior of Faerun," she retorts that she's here, isn't she? Before dismissing you.
ASTARION: He's happy all your friends are well, but hesitates on joining the socializing himself, because he's just so good at "skulking." He says he doesn't want to hog you because he gets you all the time.
LETTERS: (This was not a 100% completion game.)
Art is rapidly declining, his age catching up to him. He doesn't have long to live, but is happy and content seeing the Shadowlands cured.
Duke Ravengard does not even mention Wyll in his letter.
Arabella is being trained by Elminster! Love that for her.
The Gur write their letter to Astarion specifically, saying they've been keeping an eye on him and admire his restraint and control over his bloodlust.
THERE'S A LETTER FROM ALFIRA ahaha. I did the Durge Savescum to save her, and her letter basically goes: Yeah, I heard you're a Bhaalspawn? I saw murder in your eyes whenever you looked at me, and I'm glad you're doing well, but I'm not going to tell you where I am now. Thank you for sparing me! Bye!
Barcus Wroot has the single most Barcus Wroot letter of all time. "Withers gave me this address and said I could consider writer. Well, I considered it. Return address included. Best, Barcus Wroot." I love him so much.
Dammon 100000% has a crush on Karlach. His letter is basically: "Are you still alive? I think of you all the time. Will you write to me? Yours faithfully." Omg.
Nocturne is in a new Sharran cloister, but she hopes Shadowheart is well and wonders if maybe one day she'll also be brave enough to leave.
ROLAN DID NOT WRITE ME, woowwwww
CONCLUSIONS:
Durge gets two threads: I am living in a spa, and I am spending my time researching Bhaal. Or maybe both!
Wyll and Karlach definitely seem to be hinting towards some kind of DLC, with Wyll's new devil target and the whole heist situation. Withers also has an unreadable note on his desk with Hints Of Important Things.
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Having honestly the wildest experience flipping back and forth between binging Empresses in the Palace and That Omegaverse Thai BL. Yes, here to report that I have watched 4 episodes of Pit Babe on iQIYI, despite the name itself subjecting me to second-hand embarrassment, and it has officially vaulted over the hurdle of, "Is it good? Is it bad? Does that matter?" in the vein of Love in the Air.
It's.... exactly what it intends to be: that omegaverse AU boyband fic you read on AO3 at 2am when you couldn't sleep. I have never watched a more fanfic-y fanfic projected on screen. An incredible achievement.
Part of me feels strangely exposed and I have to push past my discomfort of thinking about a wider audience getting access to material that I generally consider to be our private fandom matters. But if I repress the knowledge that non-fandom people can see this, it's a dumb tropey good time. I hear there's canon mpreg, which makes sense cause I am pretty sure not a single woman has been on screen in four episodes. Do they canonically exist? Everyone is Gay™ and every named character is dude. I'm honestly racking my brains to recall if anyone mentioned a mom or if a female employee was in the background at some point and I missed it due to covering my eyes from mortification lmaooooooo.
The Babe character is that cliche hot/skilled/rich asshole fictional archetype who condescends to the people he sleeps with, treats them as disposible objects who can be traded to other assholes. (Until this alpha runs into his perfect match, per omegaverse rules!) But innocent flower love interest is apparently Not What He Seems and has his own agenda, as per fanfic 101. We all know how this goes. Supporting characters frequently marvel at how how Love Interest is so special™. Oh what a shock, this scum man alpha never allowed a fuck buddy to do X, Y, Z before. 😮
Naturally, our toxic boyfriend material has a Tragic Backstory that makes him Secretly Vulnerable and everyone wants something from his hot, skilled, rich self. 😢
no but truly, the desperate clinging of love interest Charlie who is thankful for the bare minimum scraps from Babe would be intolerable if we didn't know he has A SECRET SPY MISSION. or something. idk what his deal is yet. Anyway, it's not gross to see Charlie acting out pathetic thankfulness to be included in outings & allowed suck to his dick when Ulterior Motives Are Afoot.
The Sign is out there trying to be good but Pit Babe is so galaxy brain beyond such matters. I was charmed by how much Love in the Air reminded me of Cinemax After Dark and the Red Shoe Diaries of my 90s youth, soft core romance novel stylings surrounded by melodramatic plot (mysteries & fast cars & locker rooms & bar scenes) and Pit Babe charms me in the same late-night tv nostalgic way. The music that kicks up whenever there is a romance moment totally has that early 2000's softcore background track sound. My brain whispers, 'lol that's porn music'.
Characters yelp out Pit Babe at the rate of Sifeng!!!!!!! so I have built an immunity that will serve me well if I venture forward. 💪
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I made a new friend today! She was a 5yo girl, the daughter of a professor. She said hello to me, said I was pretty, showed me her little rhinestones, then when she decided I was cool, we ran around the offices jumping out from behind doors trying to scare her dad. She told me I was so silly because I asked if she worked here, and she was cracking up saying no, she's too little. I said that I'm a student and I'm big, so why can't she be a little professor? That really got her going, laughing and talking to me. I told her that she is so funny that she could teach clown, and she was just howling. It was so precious. She told a really funny joke she made up about pasta, and I said that she must be so proud of herself for being such a smart and clever girl. It really was a great time.
She didn't want me to leave tho lol, and I apologized to her dad for getting her so riled up. But he thanked me because apparently she'd been so reserved lately. She just started kindergarten, and she had been struggling with learning. He appreciated me referring to her as smart and clever (and it was clear she did too). A friend I was with who has met this child told me when we were leaving that she has never seen her so talkative and energized. Usually she just hides behind her dad and doesn't engage.
I love children, and I'm never around any kids anymore. I don't work with youth very often like I had been for the past few years. I'm also so far from my family, and there's a shit ton of kids back home. So it was really nice to play with her for a little bit as I've been really missing kids. It was also nice to be an adult assuring a child that she was smart, clever, and funny especially when she needed to hear it.
Y'all. The world is so fucking rough. Kids should be having good times, and we should be supporting them.
#woof#Y'all#My poor spirit felt so much better after hanging out with her#We need multi-generational spaces#And not just for children#But for all of us too#also#periodic reminder#don't just tell little girls that they're cute#assure all their qualities#it's really important#and also don't call them bossy#talk to them about their amazing leadership skills
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Serafina and The Black Cloak Reread Thoughts: Chapter Three
Babe wake up new slang just dropped: “gnawin’ on leather”
Her pa doesn’t like mr poe gives “my dad won’t let us watch horror movies so you have to sneak them over in a different dvd cover if we’re gonna watch a horror movie when you sleep over later tonight” omg rowena & serafina girltime au?? (Lol sorry)
Oooooh the dynamo’s busted I wonder what thaaat meeeaannnssss (hehehe)
Biltmore being one of the few homes to have electricity is a nice reminder of the time period
“she’d been trying to follow [her pa’s] rules at least some of the time” lol
“Spotting an upholstered chair she felt an overwhelming desire to run her fingernails over the plush fabric” REAL
Her being shocked at flower vases & the idea of flowers INSIDE the house is so funny
Awwww poor sera, looking for her momma and siblings everywhere…
Serafina is super smart. just putting that out there. She’s brilliant and I love her
Oop the first description of Edith Vanderbilt kinda gives chatgpt-generated ngl (obviously it wasn’t bc it predates chatgpt & shitty ai writing generators, & this book is SO MUCH BETTER than anything an AI could generate regardless)
“A refined and attractive woman, Mrs. Vanderbilt had a pale complexion and a full head of dark hair, and she seemed at ease in her role of hostess as she moved through the room.” Idk what about this makes me think “AI generated” but it just DOES
“Serafina loved to climb the tapestries at night and run her fingernails down through the soft fabric” AGAIN SHES SO REAL FOR THIS
OHOHOHO MR THORNE NAMEDROP:
“I’m sure that most of you already know Mr. Montgomery Thorne,”… Mrs. Vanderbilt said with a gentle sweep of her arm toward a gentleman. “He has graciously offered to play [the violin] for us today.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Vanderbilt,” Mr. Thorne said with a smile as he stepped forward. ... To Serafina, who’d been listening to Biltmore’s visitors her entire life, he didn’t sound like he came from the mountains of North Carolina, or from New York like the Vanderbilts. He spoke with the accent of a southern gentleman, maybe from Georgia or South Carolina.”
Serafina having an eye for fashion was NOT what I was expecting from this reread lol (she describes mr t’s outfit then says “all of which she thought went nicely with his silvery-black hair and perfectly trimmed sideburns”)
Hmmm interesting she actually sympathizes with/likes mr Thorne at first?? I did nOT recall that
Lol serafina liking to watch mr Thorne’s fingers move as he plays and wanting to pounce on them is so Cat of her
OMG BRAEDEN BRAEDEN BRAEDEN BRAEDEN
Apparently he looks “sickly, a little frail even” which I do not recall, but hes also got “watchful, sensitive brown eyes” and “a rather fetching tussle of wavy brown hair”
“Are you lost?” WE GOT IT WE GOT THE LINE but more importantly we got the NEXT LINE which is “May I help you find your way?” And hes described as not timid or shy but also not overly confident which I LOVE (fun fact this line is very similar to one of the characters of my other favorite kid’s book series, Keefe Sencen’s “you must be lost” line)
Lol Braeden always sharing his food with Gideon annoys the chefs i LOVE him
OMG HE BOWS TO HER WHEN SHE GIVES HIM HIS NAME LIKE SHE’S A PROPER LADY!!!!! MEN!!!! TAKE NOTES!!!!!! THIS IS HOW IT’S DONE!!!
Name drop at last, missing girl’s name is Clara Brahms. Honestly I’m a little sad Clara isnt a recurring character later on. Braeden, Serafina, and Clara could’ve been a good trio
OOOOHH “She had heard the servants in the kitchen joke that their master must have secretly found the Fountain of Youth” what a NICE SET UP for how the black cloak keeps people young & serafina’s suspicion of mr Vanderbilt
Mr Vanderbilt: *wears dress shoes to go riding*
serafina: criminal activity right there. Lock him up
This was my favorite chapter so far, probably because it introduces us to so many different characters and moving parts. I like Mr. Vanderbilt a lot more than I remember (as a historical figure now that I know more about him & also as a character) and Braeden is, of course, perfect in every way.
#serafina x braeden#serafina and the black cloak#serafina and the black cloak reread#serafina series#serafina and the splintered heart#serafina and the twisted staff#serafina and the seven stars
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This isn’t really an ask, but I have to get these thoughts off my chest…I keep thinking about how much sense it makes that they were going to take this break in 2020.
It would have been their 7th year, and we know what that number means for them. Not to mention “We Are Bulletproof: The Eternal” literally sounds like a goodbye song — or if not goodbye, at least a career-culminating song of immense gratitude. I mean they literally say “we got to heaven.”
And then the world changed, and no wonder they were so sad that they missed that tour — it was going to be it for them, at least in some ways. And they knew we needed them in that moment, and so they picked themselves up and pivoted, and they brought joy and wisdom and heart and fucking content for the next year and a half straight, worked their absolute asses off, made it to way more people (and got subsequently judged and hated on by more people) than ever. And now, the break isn’t just convenient or good timing or well-deserved — it’s something some of them seem to desperately need on a visceral level.
If we’re being honest, we knew that Dynamite and Butter and PTD sounded… different. Good, but different. We knew they were losing a bit of their direction, and I think that’s worse for some of them than others, based on what they value most (ex: Joon and Yoongi, as lyricists, are heartbroken by not being able to be as authentic as they want, Jimin on the other hand is made for the stage, so most likely, anything that puts him there is enough for him). So instead of burning themselves out, flaming out spectacularly on the world stage, they consciously and carefully planned out this beautiful stepping away, complete with a crap ton of extra content, and new music, and all this shit they really didn’t have to do but they’re them, so of course they did.
If we’re really fans, we HAVE to let them have this. We have to loosen our iron grip and step the fuck back, and say thank you by letting them LIVE. People are going back and forth — debating whether this is the end, or whether we should take their word for it that they’ll be back (sidenote: when have they ever lied?). But it doesn’t matter whether this is permanent or not — they gave their whole youth up for BTS. They sacrificed like nobody’s fucking business, even two years after they thought they would.
Let’s be grateful for once? Maybe? Grieving is cool, but let’s not be angry, or paranoid, or panicky. If all that they’ve been is all they’ll ever be, it was more than enough. And we know them — it won’t be.
Namjoon said that he’s living in the best possible reality, out of all the realities in the multiverse. Let’s take this opportunity to work on ourselves and make sure that’s true for our own lives as well? Make them proud? Idk. What are your thoughts on the whole thing, Stormblessed, now that I’ve written a novel? Lol.
Thank you for being a steady and calm (mostly when ppl aren’t trying your patience at least 😂) voice of reason and being an OT7 true fan. You’re the best of us, for sure.
Ahh hi, thank you for the kind words! They are so appreciated! And I do try to be calm for the most part lol! If you see my post about car sharing later today and I'm possibly slightly cranky, well I tried my best. But I'm low on sleep. Lmfao my kids don't sleep on vacation apparently 😂 I shared my thoughts over the news of their break and focus on solo work yesterday as well. And I feel even more firm in my belief that this is good for them and I'm excited to see where they go from here after Joons letter and JKs vlive. Spoiler alert, I basically fully agree with you.
Thank you so much for sharing. I'm glad you feel comfortable doing so here 😊
I've also had a few people DM to ask if I'm going to keep going with the blog, so in case anyone else is wondering. The answer is yes. I am not going anywhere. I'll be here supporting all 7 members solo albums and projects. As well as continuing my post series here. Including my Jikook timelines, my Duo Dynamics posts, my DVD commentaries, my run bts posts, etc etc. Lol I've got a lot of "in progress" stuff here. So no worries, I'm here to stay for a while.
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3:18am (BST) 14th december 2023
i met my ex for coffee today. the nice one, not the ones from school. it was good to see him. we were never really meant to be - but we work great as friends. he's kind. he sees with eyes and a mind that no one else i know does. he understands so deeply - and yearns to if he doesn't. he has piercing blue eyes and curly ginger hair that never really knows what it's doing. turns out we've been in the same city at uni for over a year now. his ears are pierced now. he has a cool green paisley sort of silk scarf. with that and his coat off he looks just the same as i knew him before though.
we broke up because my grandfather died. i didn't know how to deal with it. i already had bad mental health issues. it broke me a bit. a lot. once i went to this christian youth festival with my youth group and this kid a year younger than me said that i would undergo transformation, specifically like the art of kintsugi. you know, that japanese thing where they fix broken pots and stuff with liquid gold? my cracks and breaks would be sewn together with gold, they said. they didn't lie - i don't think.
i think the first evidence of that was when my grandad died. through my cracks and grief, a burning passion leaked through and made me stand up for myself for the first time. i realised the relationship wasn't right for me - it just immediately felt wrong, like a skin i had to shed or i'd have to live in it forever. mind you, i didn't deal with it right, i didn't have the wisdom or courage that i do now. not that i'm wise, or courageous. i changed my clothes too. my birthday rolled around and my now-partner gave me an amazon gift card so i bought the cheapest makeup i could find. i went thrifting and bought clothes that make me feel like a human being (and maybe a little bit cool).
that didn't help my mental health though - it didn't make it worse - but it didn't like, improve things. i was still a mess. i still drank at school for the next year and a half. i didn't trust anyone. i still don't trust anyone. i'd like to. my ex didn't see me much at all after we broke up. we met up for coffee after 5ish months... and then i ghosted him (again) (having just told him i'd be up for being friends). yeah not a great move morally. still keeps me up at night sometimes.
my partner didn't mind us meeting for coffee today (boyfriends sometimes do apparently). he didn't really show any opinion. he doesn't often, without me begging for it a bit. i ask the question 3 times for a response, you stare vacantly at me, fake an answer, i ask if you're sure. repeat. so yeah - i did miss my ex. i missed connection and a friend and things to talk about. he was always good to talk to. empathy levels off the charts. don't worry, i'm not gonna try and go back to him - i don't want to. i just need friends, and he's a good one. and my relationship isn't as bad as i make it sound lol but my boyfriend does know i'm not happy in it right now.
i did other things today too. i went pottery painting with the art society. one of the things i painted is for my sister. i hope she likes it. no idea if she will though. i got a sports bra from a charity shop (it's really comfy). i got a turtleneck from another charity shop (i've been really wanting one to wear under dresses [summer dresses can be for winter too]). and i got some uniqlo sports leggings from another reallllyyyy good charity shop. very good price (£6!!!!!! in 2023??? crazytown). i've been wanting to try and exercise a bit. for my brain more than for my body.
i should go to bed now. woke up at 10am this morning but now it's 3am. oh i did yoga too!! just felt like it. i have a creaky unused lil conker of a skeleton. she needed stretching wayyyy more than i realised. it was supposed to be relaxing meditation yoga but it make me a bit more stressed bc i couldn't stretch ffs. was fun anyway. it was for me. today was for me. it was taylor swifts birthday too today the swift society had a birthday party lol. it was fun. i made a terrible friendship bracelet with my own name on it. i won a prize. i was first on the kahoot for a bit. i'm not even that much of a swiftie. i think a girl flirted with me a tiny bit there? idk she probably didn't but i hope i'm right. i hope. i have hope right now. today was for me. night night.
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My thoughts on Batter Up by Babymonster
First things first; I really liked it! It's a good song and I'm happy to see that most people agree. Of course there is critisism, but there always is when big 4 groups debut (though I agree big 4 debuts should be held to a higher standard because they have all the money and connections)
The song is good. I'm not going to call it 10/10 because there are some things I wished were different, but overall I'm very satisfied with the result. It's catchy and it will still hold up when they are further in their career.
The chorus is a bit empty but it grew on me after a few listens. I do agree it sounds a bit too much like Lisa's Money. It sounds very much like a YG song (which is good for me because I love the YG sound), but with that, they kind of failed to let Baemon have their own unique sound right from debut. I remember YG stating that WINNER's music needed to be completely different from BigBang because they were YG's new boygroup and he wanted them to be unique and that worked. Now Baemon is getting compared to Blackpink and I understand why. It might be too similar to Blackpinks music which is a shame because the Babymonster members have such unique voices and they don't sound like BP at all.
And that's my second regret with the song. Their unique vocals don't stand out enough because there isn't enough singing in the song. They sing in the pre-chorus and that's kind of it. The verses are talk-singing and the chorus is empty. It would have been cool if they debuted with a bside that showed of their vocals more. (something RnB!)
The rap was great! I'll have to wait for Hyunsuk to go on Weverse live but It does seem like he wrote Ruka's part and Asa wrote her own rap. I'm happy Asa was able to fit her fast style of rapping in the song. I really love it alot.
I like the YG ending, I like that it's a song fans will be able to party to and chant to together with the members at the end. It has a fun vibe that's shown with the members smiling while performing the choreo in the MV (especially Chiquita!)
The MV is fun and, just like the song, will hold up well in a few years. It's a bit all over the place though, it's like they wanted to show as much as possible and forgot to make it narratively coherent. It's lots of cool sets that don't really have anything to do with eachother. I do think the the two themes in the MV were clearly 'Youth' (the classroom, the school bus, the uniforms, baseball) and 'New Beginnings' (Batter Up, the broken egg, the broken cage, the defrosting of the ice (I'll admit that one's a stretch lol). I'm happy it's so crowded though... After watching the teaser I was really worried it would be like 3 sets in a white void, so I was relieved watching the MV
The best scene is definitely Rora's flower scene. She looks absolutely gorgeous and she stole my heart 🙈
The outfits are all great too. I don't have a single complaint, they all look fantastic in every scene!!
They haven't shown the choreo much, but I'm not really impressed by what is shown in the MV. That doesn't really mean anything though. There have been many instances where I ended up loving the choreo if I saw it performed in full.
Spreaking of performances, will Baemon even go on music shows for Batter Up???? Apparently they aren't attending Inkigayo this week?? There has been no confirmation for any other music show performance and in december lots of music shows won't be broadcasting at all...
I've been a YG stan for quite a few years now and time and time again my patience and faith in the company is tested I swear to God. I have long learned not to get my hopes up, but only giving bare minimum promotion to your first girl group in 7 years seems a bit much no?? I really hope this is not the case and many more content is to come, but honestly I wouldn't be surprised it there wasn't.
There are many thing I probably forgot to talk about, but this is most of it. I miss Ahyeon, I think this concept would suit her very well and if she ever rejoins the group she would fit in perfectly! Nevertheless I'm very proud of the records Baemon has broken already. Most watched kpop group debut MV in the first 24 hours ever 👑 + most watched Kpop group MV in the first 24 hours in 2023 🏆
Congratulation on debuting Babymonster! 👏👏👏 I hope we get to see a live performance very soon 🙏
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