#like i love when u all share playlists and i see songs i already like or i get to love a song bc of it

[rafesslxt]

Hi! Would you write a smut fic about getting high with Mattheo?

R U High Mine⎥Mattheo Riddle

summary: you come back from the holiday's with some weed for you and the boys. When you and Mattheo smoke while showing him some songs, it get's a little heated between the two of you.

warnings: Filthy smut yasss, getting high, so drugs/weed, smoking, best friends to lovers, making out, vocal mattheo (ugh), dirty talk, fingering, unprotected p in v, aftercare, mattheo calling reader slut and whore

note: I saw this in the car and had an immediate idea how to write this, had much fun. Thank you for the request I hope you like it. 💚

song: I recommend listening to the song "R U Mine" or "Why'd you only call me when you're high" by Arctic Monkeys, trust me babes. Or hear the playlist "Are you high mine" from my Spotify.

The boys and Pansy already waited for me in the common room as I arrived at Hogwarts again. It was like Christmas for them, knowing I would always bring them their favorite treat after the holiday's.

I smiled at them, knowing they were thinking the same as me as they smiled back at me. "Y/n!" Pansy was the first to stand up and hug me. From all the people I called my friends, I was closest to her. " Hey Pansy, how are you?" I asked, letting my bags fall to hug her back.

"I'm great! We're waiting for you girl. Everyone's here already." she giggled as she let go of me so I could great the rest.

I gave everyone a hug, at last Mattheo, who kissed my cheek. " How are you princess?" he asked, scanning my face. " I'm good Matt, thanks." I smile at him and sit beside him on the armrest. " What about you?" " Fine now that you're here." I rolled my eyes playfully at his answer.

"You know we're all happy to see you y/n, but do you have it?" Draco asked, shifting impatient in his seat. I think from all of us, he was the one with the most need for it. He was constantly on the edge, maybe even worse If it wasn't for Pansy who comforted him the best she could. He had all the pressure of his father on his shoulders and It was clear to see what it did to him. So a little smoke from now and then did good for him.

"Of course I have it, how could I forget when all of you reminded me the whole 2 weeks of it in each letter you wrote?" I say sarcastic, with a little smirk on the edge of my lips.

I grabbed my purse and pulled out a big black bag with already little packed baggy's, also black so you couldn't see what's in it, for each of them.

"Oh my god it's more than usually, right?" Enzo said, gawking at the little bags in my hand. I chuckled as I gave each one of them their own little bag so they could divide it up for the next few weeks.

"Yeah it is indeed more than usual. Got a good prize for it." " Wait let me pay what we didn't give you." Draco said, grabbing into his pockets but I shook my head. " No it's good. I'm friends with him since we were kids." He nodded and opened his bag to smell it, saying "You know I never thought I would say that but I wouldn‘t have thought I would ever be this happy to have a friend who is part of the muggle world."

I laughed at his comment, before giving the last bag to Mattheo. "I've got something else for you." I grinned at him, knowing he'll love it.

Obviously things like wifi don't exist here so I buyed him an MP3 player with lots and lots of battery's so he could listen to music. This time I brought an CD player and made a few Playlists for him.

His smile got bigger as he saw me pulling it out of my bag. "What's that?" Blaise asked, watching us. " It's an CD Player so you can hear Music a little louder than with headset."

"You wanna hear it?" I ask, Mattheo nodding. " Yeah princess, let's go." He grabbed my bags and gave me my purse. "See you later guy's." I waved at the rest of them.

It became a ritual for us to listen to music every time I came back from holiday's, so the group already knew what's going on.

We walked towards mine and Pansy's dorm we shared which was no issue to her as Mattheo and Draco shared a dorm so she would always go over to Draco's.

"You roll the weed and I'm gonna put on the music mkay? Grinder is in the top drawer." I say while walking towards my desk and putting the CD player on it, putting the battery in it and the first CD I wanted to show him. In the meantime he sat down on my bed and grinned the weed smaller before rolling it into a J.

"Ready." He smiled at me and tapped the place beside him on the bed. "Okay, so this is a band I want to show you, they're called "Arctic Monkeys" and I think you'll love them." Confident I sat down next to him after starting the Music. He lit the J and handed it over to me. "Here, you go first." "Thanks." I took the first drag and inhaled it deeply into my lungs before grinning and exhaling the smoke. " Oh it's good. Marc didn't disappoint." "Marc huh?" he asked as he took his first drag. " So you two are close or anything?"

I shrugged with my shoulders before laying down on my back. " Kind of, but not as close as I'm with you guys. I know him since I'm a kid, he's also the only one who knows about Hogwarts beside my parents."

He scanned my face as I was talking, slowly dragging his gaze from my eyes to my lips. I saw it but didn't think about it as I slowly but surely felt the weed have an effect.

"Damn, you were right. The music is great. It's a bit..edgy." " Yeah I know but it's great for smoking." I giggle and turn my head back towards the ceiling as the song "Why'd you only call me when you're high" started to play. " That's my second favorite." I tell him, feeling the weed calming me down but also making my senses and nerves more sensitive and reactive.

"What's your favorite?" "It comes after a few songs, just wait, I will tell you."

We layed down a little longer, smoking the J until it was ready and we were high as fuck. "Shit, it feels so good to be like this again." he groans, sending shivers down my spine. I turned my head towards him, seeing him looking at the ceiling.

I always had a crush on Mattheo. I loved when he was all flirty with me, while with nobody other. We both had partners before but I always felt some kind of pull towards him. My eyes scanned him, looking at his sharp jawline at first. I also loved looking at it, made me feel some type of way. Especially when it moved while he smoked.

Suddenly his eyes hit mine and maybe it's the weed but I had a feeling as If there was more in his gaze. Again, he looks at my eyes and then at my lips, licking his own.

Then my favorite song started playing. " That's my favorite." I said, watching him looking to the CD player. I wait a litte before he reacts to it. He breathed out heavily before looking at me. "You know where I would love to hear it?" "No tell me." "When we fuck." he says bluntly.

My eyes widened in shock, not knowing If I imagined things now. Before I could say anything he rolled over on top of me, grabbed my neck and kissed me with passion I've never felt before in my life. I opened my mouth as his tongue licked over my bottom lip. He groaned against my lips and pressed his body even more against mine, letting one hand beside my head to support himself and the other which was at my neck, now wandering over my stomach.

My breathing got faster and heavier due the haze and the arousal I suddenly felt. "Fuck, you don't even know how long I've been wanting to do this." He lowers his head down to my throat in a rush, leaving my lips trembling.

Goosebumps erupted over my skin as I felt his tongue licking my skin and his teeth carefully biting it. " Mattheo.." I moaned and let my hands go trough his hair, pulling on some strands. "What princess? What do you need hm?" he mumbles against my neck.

I arched my back and pressed my hips against his, feeling he's already hard. I gasped at the friction and bit my lip right after. " Need to feel you." "Where, tell me where. I wanna hear you say it." he groans, pressing against my hips.

"Everywhere. Fuck me." I would have never said that so bluntly without the weed, but I'm so grateful that we did smoke.

He growled against my skin, leaving wet kisses all over it before sitting up between my legs and letting both his hands roam over my skin under the hoodie I wore. It didn't take him long before pulling it over my head together with my shirt under it, seeing I was wearing no bra.

His lips parted and a smile formed on them. " You're so beautiful y/n, shit why didn't we do this sooner." His hand wandered up to my chest, massaging them and playing with my nipples teasing them. I mewled at the feeling and arched my back again. " Mattheo please. I need more."

"Don't have to ask me twice, princess." He opened the button of my jeans and pulled them down. He got rid of his clothes too until we were both only in our underwear.

I looked down and saw how big he was, just trough his boxershorts, making me gulp a little. "Don't worry, I'll go slow. Or do you want it rough?" I nodded quickly. " Rough. Fuck me like - " " Like what?" I gulped again before answering in a whisper. " Like a slut." " Oh you mean like my slut? Because after this you'll go nowhere but to me If you need to be fucked. Understood?" Ahh imagine him saying this ugh

I nodded. "Good girl." he said smiling, his voice and words making me even wetter. His fingers slowly stroked over my slip, making him biting his lip and almost moan. "Feel how wet you are you fucking slut? Wet for your best friend?"

I moaned and closed my eyes as he slipped a finger under the fabric and right inside of me. "Fuck, you're so tight. Nobody fucked you good the last few months huh?" I shook my head as I couldn't form any words. " Yeah that's gonna change from now on." He pumped his fingers a few more times inside of me, putting pressure to my clit with his thumb before pulling down his boxer shorts and my slip.

He pressed his tip against my entrance, looking at me. " Ready?" "Yeah.." I breathed out. He slowly pushed inside me, scanning my face, his eyes a little hooded.

My hands grabbed his hair again as he completely bottomed me out. "Oh yes.." I moaned, closing my eyes and parting my lips.

"You feel so good princess." he groaned and started to thrust inside me fast and rough, not thinking twice If someone outside in the common room could hear the bed hitting the wall. I wanted to say something but every word got stuck in my throat at his merciless fucking.

"What huh? Am I fucking you stupid you little whore? Fuck I love this, how fucked out you already look, not even able to speak." he growls into the air.

The only thing I felt was him inside me, thrusting faster and faster every minute that passed. I couldn't concentrate on anything else beside him. "M-mattheo I'm close.." " You wanna cum baby? Beg me like the little slut you wanted to be."

His thrusts became erratic and sloppy and I heard his breathing getting harder. "Fuck, please let me cum Mattheo. Please, I'm begging you." I moan loudly as my walls clench around his cock.

"Fuck fuck fuck.." he groaned, thrusting hard one last time before spilling inside me and circling his fingers on my sensitive clit. "Come around my cock baby." And I did. I did so hard that my vision went black for a moment and his name left my lips over and over again.

"Yeah, love how you almost look possessed. Possessed by my cock." he grins down at me, slowly pulling out of me.

I swallowed and looked at him, mind dizzy." "That was so good Mattheo." I said, trying to catch my breath.

"Oh believe me princess, that won't be the last time. You're mine now."

I hope you had fun reading, I had so much fun writing this. 😍

Let me know what ya'll think about this hehe. 👀

My Masterlist

xoxo Sarah <3

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[macfrog]

faire l'amour sex on fire chapter five

alright babies. grab the nearest museum tour guide, don your finest gumball machine jewelry, strap into your lifejackets and get ready to fall in love in paris - we go again one last time. i could've written about these two in france forever; i kinda want them to retire together and just move to europe and live out their days drinking good wine and baking in the sun. anyways hope u enjoy love u bye!!! 💘

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: it’s your last day away with joel. impulses are getting harder to control, feelings are getting harder to hide, and secrets are threatening to spill over…

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalanced power dynamic, sugardaddy!joel, cursing, mention of oral (m receiving), ostentatious displays of wealth, probably inaccurate french language, jean-marc makes reader feel uncomfortable, some objectification, alcohol consumption, protective!joel, lil bit of fluff, teasing and excessive flirting obv, a Totally Not Romantic boat trip, reader (nervously) shares personal stuff with joel, themes of heartbreak and guilt, reader sort of panics/spirals a little again, daddy kink, facesitting (f receiving), assplay/fingering, softdom!joel, unprotected piv sex, creampie, angst?? kinda??

word count: 9.4k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Come – here,” he says, sterner. Eyes dark, flitting up and down your skin, settling between your legs. You obey him, shuffling further up the mattress until you’re hovering over his face, knees digging into the cushion by his ears. “Sit,” he instructs. You stare blankly at him. Your body doesn’t move. “Wanna taste you again, pretty girl,” he murmurs, eyes stuck on your wet core just inches from his lips. “Gonna make you feel better.”

The suite is drowned a milky blue in the morning light. The sky is white – cloud cover as far as you can see. You tug your robe tighter around your body and turn from the window, rounding the bed to join Joel in the bathroom. He’s in the shower, humming some song you’re distantly sure played that night in the dive bar.

You’re meeting Jean-Marc in an hour, in the penthouse of his hotel. He owns four across the city. Joel has told you three things so far: he’s pretentious, he’s a little in your face, and he’s always wearing a blue velvet robe.

He hasn’t told you much more than that.

You click your toothbrush on, and it whirs around your jaw for all of ten seconds before cutting out. Your thumb presses the button twice more, pulling it out of your mouth to find the red light at the base of the handle blinking. Like it’s snickering at you.

“Fuck,” you moan, head tilting back.

“’s wrong?” Joel asks, stepping out of the shower and reaching for his towel.

“My toothbrush just died. Do you have a charger with you?”

He shakes his head, wrapping the towel low over his hips.

“You didn’t bring a toothbrush charger?”

Joel walks around you, eyes never leaving yours in the steamy-edged reflection of the mirror until he’s by your side, when you watch him glance down to you. “Is my toothbrush the one that’s dead, baby?”

You sigh, sliding the brush across the marble countertop.

“Here,” Joel says, chuckling, “just use mine.”

“Uh,” you hold a hand up, grimacing, “no, thanks. Gross.”

“What?”

“You want me to use your toothbrush? That you’ve already used? In my mouth?”

“Same mouth you had wrapped around my dick half an hour ago?”

You stare him down in the mirror, jaw slack with shock, eyes thin. Trying to form words, but he’s smiling so cockily, so amused by the look on your face. He’s proud of that one, ain’t he?

You slap his arm away but snatch the toothbrush from his hand without a word, loading it with toothpaste and flicking the button.

Joel laughs again, nose nudging into your hair as he hooks around you, dappling kisses up your neck, still sticky from the shower. “You look hot when you’re pissed.”

Your words, though muffled by the white, minty foam, are clear enough that they make him laugh even harder. “Fuck off.”

Finding an outfit you think appropriate for breakfast with one of Joel’s rich friends – is Jean-Marc a friend? You don’t know enough about him to call it – whilst also staying in the realm of professional work trip is tough. You want to look nice, look…Parisian, but also look personal assistant. And definitely, definitely avoid looking I’m-sleeping-with-my-boss, by the way.

You settle for a deep red floral dress, split hem running just above your knees, and a pair of white heels that wrap around your ankles. Joel approves, judging by the placement of his hands when he appears behind you in the mirror. You lean back into him as he lifts your skirt, running a light touch up the inside of your thigh, a low growl passing his lips when his fingers meet your lace –

The suite phone jolts you back to reality. Joel sighs, shifting off to answer it.

“Yep?” he says into the receiver. Car’s here, he mouths to you. “Alright, thank you, ma’am.”

He nods toward the door and you follow after him, swinging a clutch under your arm and giving your hair one last toss in the mirror.

“What’s he like?”

“Huh?”

You lean back against the elevator wall, watching the rustic arrow arch across the floors of the hotel. “Jean-Marc. Aside from the blue robe and pretentiousness, what should I expect?”

He clears his throat. Sniffs. “Uh,” he scratches the bridge of his nose, “he’s fine. He’s…You’ll do fine. Don’t overthink it.”

Alright.

But Joel’s being weird. He’s silent when he ushers you into the back of the car, he forgets to put his hand on your thigh until you take his wrist and guide it there, and he doesn’t even hear you when you gasp and point out two white poodles on the street. He barely says a word until you’re being welcomed through a huge golden doorway into a regal penthouse suite, gleaming floors and decorative walls.

Very in-your-face. Very Jean-Marc, going by the little you know.

“Joelie!” he sings, coming over to meet you both with his hands out, shaking Joel’s and patting him roughly on his bicep.

He’s a small man – smaller than Joel, anyway. Hair more salt than pepper. Clean-shaven, pointed chin. And no blue robe, disappointingly. He’s just in a white shirt, unbuttoned far lower than you would’ve left it, had it been up to you, and smart blue trousers. A pair of patterned loafers, too, a huge gold buckle on the top of them.

Joel turns, robotically, to introduce you, and places a hand on the small of your back. You step forward into Jean-Marc’s open arms. He leans in, places a kiss to each cheek, and leans back out, almost like he’s surveying you. Up and down, and back up again. Joel’s hand doesn’t leave your back.

“You are the assistant,” Jean-Marc remarks, clapping his hands. “How beautiful! You are much too beautiful to be in such a boring job. Blegh.”

You laugh, not entirely sure why. Probably nerves. Sometimes it’s easier to laugh uncomfortable moments off, makes them pass quicker, though it pisses you off. Joel’s hand presses a little into your skin, you feel his fingers grip around the material of your dress.

“We are eating on the terrace.” Jean-Marc steps away, fingers snapping to beckon you both forward. “It has a fantastic view of the city, doesn’t it, Joel?”

Joel smiles, but doesn’t say anything. You fucking wish he would. Why is he so quiet?

You both follow Jean-Marc outside, sun peeking weakly through the clouds onto the paved patio, fenced by an intricate wrought iron railing, and covered in what looks like a jungle of vibrant green plants. He leads you over to a huge glass table, set with spotless white crockery and shining silver cutlery, wine glasses at each setting.

“Please,” he holds his hands out, “sit.”

Joel pulls one of the chairs out and looks to you, waiting for you to slide into it. When you do, you watch as he sits silently next to you. And then he finally fucking does it.

His hand slips onto your thigh under the table. Gives the top of your knee a gentle squeeze. The relief washes over you like waves of cold water on a scorching day. Your lungs fill with air and your shoulders relax.

“So, you have worked for Joel for…how long?” Jean-Marc asks, pouring his first glass of wine. He holds the bottle up to you and Joel and you both hold your palms up in unison, opting for the freshly squeezed orange juice instead.

You answer politely – you answer all of his questions politely, with a tight smile on your lips that hurts when you hold it for too long. He asks what you do for Joel, whether you like it much, how you’re finding your trip to Paris. All the while, Joel sits beside you, feeling more stone than human, observing, listening and grunting in answer anytime Jean-Marc makes reference to him.

On your host’s second glass of wine, a flurry of waiters in all white spawn from the penthouse and lay dishes of extravagant food before you. Eggs benedict is about the only thing you recognize, aside from the toast in the rack in the middle of the table, and a bowl of fresh cut fruit beside it.

A tall, black-haired assistant swings over to Jean-Marc when he clicks his fingers, craning around the old man like a raven perched on his shoulder.

“Ce serait bien d’avoir un joli visage comme celui-ci travailler avec nous, non?” Jean-Marc utters in the man’s ear, and they laugh. A little too hard. Laughter that hits your ear like a foul ball.

You decide to break your porcelain polite smile, laughing with the two men. The tall man straightens and glides off behind the table, and Jean-Marc wipes the corners of his mouth before turning to you.

“So,” he says again, another question approaching, “what did you study? At university?”

“Business management,” you reply neatly, lifting your glass.

Jean-Marc’s head wobbles in a nod as he cuts into his meal.

“And French.”

Joel chokes into his glass of orange juice. “Sorry,” he sputters, coughing into his fist, covering a laugh. “Sorry.”

You mask your own smile behind your drink, the sound of Joel choking on his juice making your shoulders shudder with a giggle which escapes in short bursts through your nose.

Jean-Marc’s eyebrows rise, amused and…fascinated. “Even better, hm?”

Joel’s still clearing the orange juice from his airway. Patting his lips with his own napkin. He pauses and his hands fall to his lap when Jean-Marc asks, “Where have you been hiding her, Joel?”

You wince. It’s a gross question, it is. And you know Joel thinks so, too, maybe even worse by his reaction. He sucks in a deep, sudden breath, eyes narrowing toward Jean-Marc. His chest rises and falls abruptly, jaw clenches tight. And then his hand is back on your leg, and you quickly lay yours atop, softly squeezing it. It’s fine. It’s fine.

His thumb strokes your fingers lightly, but he doesn’t react more than that. He doesn’t say much for the remainder of the meal, either. Just cuts pieces of egg and bacon roughly and – though this might just be you knowing him well enough – pretty aggressively, dragging them off of his fork with gritted teeth.

You keep up lighthearted conversation with Jean-Marc; the weather, your flight (at least the PG parts of it), how much of Paris you’ve seen since you landed. You study him when he’s not staring you down, watch the way his delicate fingers slice through his food, throwing it into his mouth in tiny pieces and humming to himself as he looks around at the skyline.

He’s like a mouse. Like some small creature with enough brains and quick wit to keep you on your toes. Everything is like a dance – you find yourself picking up on nuances in his conversation, words which point one way and yet, a shift in tone which points in the complete opposite.

It’s always when that tone shifts, and your eyebrows pull together, polite façade slipping some, that you find yourself leaning more into Joel. And he’s there each time. Steady as a rock, quiet, watchful and protective. A scent that comforts you, grounds you anytime you begin to feel yourself floating off with one of Jean-Marc’s stories.

“Madame,” a voice murmurs behind you, and you turn to find the raven man stood over you like a shadow. He hooks his fingers, nodding over to the edge of the terrace.

“Ah, yes,” Jean-Marc nods, “go, please. My assistant will be happy to show you the view. It is a panoramic view of Paris.”

You nervously stand, letting go of Joel’s hand. He watches you follow the tall figure over to the black railing, where he points to landmarks you’ve already seen from your own terrace. When his ghostly finger points out the Arc de Triomphe, you sneak a glance over your shoulder back to Joel.

Jean-Marc is now sat in your chair, leaning into Joel and talking at him. Chittering, like a bird in his ear. Joel’s face is flat, he looks thoroughly unimpressed at whatever the hell Jean-Marc’s saying. Looks pissed, if you’re honest.

Suddenly Jean-Marc leaps from the seat and claps his hands, announcing that he’d like to take you and Joel on a drive. But as soon as he’s finished the sentence, Joel’s broad figure is standing up to height beside him, towering over him.

“Actually, we, uh…we have other plans today. Maybe some other time.”

He nods quickly to you and you almost throw yourself to him in response. You collect your bag from the table and line yourself beside Joel, nodding graciously to Jean-Marc and thanking his assistant for showing you the view.

“Anytime,” Jean-Marc says, taking your free hand. “It was wonderful to meet you. I hope that we will again soon.”

Before you can respond, Joel’s dragging you off the terrace and through the penthouse, muttering, “Thanks,” as you pass more servers into the elevator again.

“What’s wr–?”

“Nothing,” he cuts in, exhaling when the doors close over. His stare won’t lift from the floor. “Nothing.”

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“I did tell you. It’s nothing.”

“Ooookay,” you reply, lifting your eyebrows. The elevator plummets; you both fall into silence with it. Joel’s shifting between feet, arms crossed, hands tightly squeezing into his upper arms.

“What’s next, then?” you ask, trying to crack him.

His shoulders rise with the breath he takes. “Nothing, baby.”

“Stop that. Answer me, Miller.”

A smile pulls at his lips. “I am answerin’. I got nothin’ for the rest of the day. I’m all yours.”

The elevator stops and slides open. Joel leads you out through the lobby, toward the front door through which you can see Denis’s car waiting.

“Then, why aren’t we flying home today? Why wait until tomorrow? I thought you had big work stuff all weekend.”

“Because. I didn’t wanna come here just to work. Why’d you think I brought you here, if I was just gonna work the entire time?”

You toss him a look and he laughs.

“Alright, no,” he says, opening the car door for you. “I wanted to spend time with you, darlin’.”

You scoff, settling in the backseat. “Hi, Denis!”

Denis nods in the mirror to you, cheeks plump with his warm smile, then looks to Joel. “Where to?”

Joel turns to you. Lifts his eyebrows, opens his hands.

“Wh–? Me?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “where d’you wanna go, pretty girl? We’ll do whatever you want.”

You stare at him, a little dumbfounded. But then he smiles again, so sincere, so gentle, and you fold.

Since you were a kid, old enough to hold a pencil, you drew. Crayon doodles of you and your mom stuck to the refrigerator turned to being hunched over a sketchbook in art class, wrist aching by the end of the day when you’d rush home with it between your fingers to show her what you’d drawn. And that turned to tiny sketchbooks you’d carry in your purse for when college became too boring, sneaking them out to draw the face of the professor, stern lines in black ink as she detailed the components of a business model. And that turned to an entire corner in your apartment dedicated to canvases and paints, sketching pencils and watercolor inks – your very own little studio for whenever you had the time.

It'd been on your bucket list probably since that first crayon made its way into your little hands. You imagined wandering around for the day, drinking in all the art, marveling at the size of some of the paintings, walking two, three times around the sculptures. Seeing the Mona Lisa.

“The Louvre?” you ask Joel, tilting your head.

“The Louvre, Denis,” he says, and takes your hand in his.

----------

It’s like a dream. You’re sure you’ve looped the same rooms twice, maybe three times over. And it still doesn’t feel real.

Joel’s been following you the whole time, his fingers intertwined with yours – watching as you lean as close as possible to each painting, eyes studying the detail intently, and then back again, taking it in in its entirety; pointing to the tiny plaques with the information on each piece, reading them to you as you muse over each one.

Your neck aches from turning all over the place as you walk around, looking from wall to wall, up to the ceiling panels, ornate in gold and bursting with colorful, dreamy paintings of the skies.

When you reach the Mona Lisa, you queue for twenty minutes. Joel stands by your side the entire time, one arm comfortably slung around your back as you meander across the wooden floor toward the glass case. He asks you which piece has been your favorite so far; you tell him the one right after he almost got hit on the head by some kid with a selfie stick. He lowers his brows and shakes his head at the memory, and you hit his chest playfully, trying to conceal your laughter from his grumpy face.

When you reach the center of the painting, the enigmatic face staring straight back at yours, Joel taps your shoulder.

You spin around.

He’s holding his phone up, leaning back to get both you and the soft-smiling face behind you in shot.

“Joel,” you laugh, and he waves his hand.

“Smile,” he tells you.

And you do. You prop one elbow on the wooden barrier, lean in to the frame like you’re snapping a pic with a best friend, and push your cheeks up. The camera shutter sound echoes from his phone, and he brings it down, checking over the picture.

“Cheesy,” you mutter, leaning in to get a better look at your upside-down face.

“She’s beautiful,” he replies with a smirk, scooping you off to round the room toward the exit.

You glance back at the Mona Lisa, arm linking with Joel’s. “She is, right?”

He doesn’t respond. When you turn back, he’s smiling to himself, eyes on the floor.

You click alongside him in your heels, weaving between tourists taking photos and guides showing groups of wide eyes and slack jaws around. As you pass them, Joel leans in close to you.

“I don’t wanna take you away from all this,” he utters, “but I got somethin’ booked for us.”

“Somethin’ booked?”

He nods. Hands you a guilty look, and asks, “Mind if we call it a day?”

You shake your head, a little more enthusiastically than you meant to, but you’re trying to tell him you don’t mind. At all. Whatsoever. He’s paid for this entire trip, and apparently has more instore. What you feel right now is the complete opposite of minding.

You let him take you back up the escalators and out of the museum.

Denis sits by the curb, waiting for you both like he always is. He drives you, hand in hand, around the city to the edge of the Seine, where Joel leads you out of the car and begins strolling down the riverside.

The early evening sun bounces along the water, reflecting ochre and amber in gentle ripples. Your arms cross over one another, hands rubbing the cold skin above your elbows, and without a word, Joel pulls his jacket off and sits it loose over your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you whisper, as he wanders along beside you. “So, where we goin’?”

“You’ll see,” he says, smiling. “You really loved it in there, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nod, nudging into him, “thank you for taking me.”

“Didn’t know you were artsy. You knew your stuff.”

“You don’t know a lot about me, do you?”

There’s something in his eyes when he looks back at you. Words behind them that he thinks twice about letting slip. Instead, he says, “You keep surprisin’ me.”

You’re walking under the shade of a line of trees, benches sat in between each trunk holding couples enjoying the view, families snapping photos. You turn to watch a couple of kids run by, hoping that by the time you turn back, your cheeks are a little less red.

“Hm,” you muse, “I always wanted to be an artist. A painter. Wanted to sell my stuff, make money turning people into portraits. It was my stupid little pipedream.”

“’s not stupid. Not a pipedream, either.”

“You haven’t seen my stuff.”

“Alright, then show it to me.”

You scoff, tightening your grip around your body. “Maybe. Maybe when we’re back home.”

“Holdin’ you to it.”

You smirk, brushing the hair out of your face. “What’s yours?”

“My what?”

“Your pipedream. You wanted to be a businessman your whole life?”

Joel’s eyes are fixed on the pathway in front, widening a little as he nervously laughs. “I, uh…Not my whole life, no.”

“What was it before, then?”

He seems to stiffen. Runs his fingers through his hair, unglues his eyes from the ground and looks across the water. “Me ‘n my…my brother, we had this idea to buy a ranch. Raise sheep, cattle, few horses maybe. Out in the country, y’know? Looked into a few places, but…I guess life got in the way.”

Joel Miller, a farmer. Moreover, Joel Miller, a brother. How come, in three years of knowing him better than most, you never knew he had a brother?

He answers awkwardly when you ask. “Just don’t see ‘im much, is all. He lives out west.”

His gaze falls again and you know that’s as much as you’re going to be able to draw from him. Know he’s keeping that particular card close to his chest.

You turn back to the view ahead, eyes flitting from bench to bench as you pass, catching on something in the distance. Something small, red, tucked behind one of the uniform trees. The glass sphere atop it shines in the wilting sunlight.

“Hey.” You take Joel’s elbow, dragging him over to it.

“A gumball machine? What are you, ten?”

“’s not gumballs. It’s a lucky draw. Like, toys ‘n stuff.”

“Alright, what are you, five? C’mon.”

You stay where you’re standing, crouched to look inside the glass dome at the small multicolored balls, each one filled with a tiny prize. “Joooel,” you groan, and he turns back.

“Baby, we’re gonna be–”

“You said we do whatever I want. I want a fuckin’ toy outta the French gumball machine.”

His lips widen, ready to say something back, and then he thinks better of it. You know him, and, equally, he knows you. You won’t walk away from this damn machine, no matter what he says.

“You know what…?” He steps forward, fishing in his pocket for change. “I notice I’m payin’ again, by the way. First the jukebox, now this.”

You clear your throat, lower your voice, and mimic his Southern drawl, repeating what he said in the Gucci store yesterday. “All expenses paid, baby.”

Joel lifts a finger, pointing at you. His voice is short. A warning. “Cut that.”

He slots a euro in the silver contraption and steps back, holding a hand out for you to do the heavy lifting. You leap forward, twist the lever, and a small red ball rolls down the chute, falling into your open hands.

For a man who wasn’t interested in the machine ten seconds ago, Joel leans in pretty quick to watch you pop open the plastic ball.

“A ring!” you exclaim, slipping the ruby ring from its globe and holding it up in the light.

“It’s plastic. It’s a plastic kids ring.”

You slap his chest. “I like it.”

Joel shakes his head and takes your wrist, pulling you further along the river’s edge as you survey the newest addition to your jewelry collection. It’s tiny – he’s not wrong about that – and it only just fits on your pinkie finger, but you wear it proudly as you follow him along the cobbled pathway to…

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Joel turns, smug grin on his face. “Nope!” he calls, stepping down onto the bank to a private fucking boat.

“You have a jet and a boat? Tryna kill the planet one form of transportation at a time, aren’t you, Miller?”

He snorts, helping you down alongside him. “I rented it, and you’re fuckin’ welcome. Thought it’d be a nice way to end the trip.”

“It is nice,” you concede, feeling a little embarrassed. “It is. I’m just…You said I keep surprising you.”

He holds his arm out as you step over the edge of the varnished wooden boat, wobbling a little when you land. A man in a navy button up greets you, shows you down a couple steps where there’s a white leather couch and a table, bucket of champagne sat on top.

“Damn…” you whisper, feeling Joel’s weight behind you.

“We can get back off, though, if you wanna go play some more with the gumball machine.”

You roll your head back to look at him and he smiles. Gleeful. Like a little kid.

Probably like you did, when you uncovered your ruby ring.

Different strokes for different folks.

Joel settles back against the leather couch and you stand, looking down at him for a second before he’s gesturing you to join. The boat sets off as you shuffle in beside him, leaning back until your body’s encased in his, his arm wrapped around your waist, hands interlinked at your tummy.

You lean your head back against his shoulder, watching Paris sail by, feeling the cool breeze as it whips across the surface of the river and lands gently on your face, and smelling Joel all over you. It’s peaceful. It’s quiet, and it’s still, and it’s…totally not romantic at all.

None of this should be romantic. None of it should have your heart skipping beats, praying Joel can’t feel them through his fucking coat still on your shoulders.

So why does your breath catch when he leans down and quietly asks if you’re okay?

“Yeah,” you say in a choked voice, feeling his beard scratching your ear. “I’m g–I’m good.”

You’re thankful when he gives you something else to think about, in the form of a question: “You like the view from Jean-Marc’s terrace?”

Your shoulders jerk with a laugh. “Ha. It’s not as nice as ours.”

“Nah. That assistant guy say much to ya?”

“No. Why would he?”

Joel shrugs. “No reason.”

He says it like there is a reason, though. Like your answer caught him off guard. He was expecting you to say something else.

You draw shapes in the palm of his hand. “You gonna tell me what Jean-Marc said to you yet?”

“Nope. None of your business, pretty girl.”

You smile. “He was alright, you know. Bit on the nose, but he had a cool outfit. Cool plants, too.”

You feel the rumble of Joel’s response on your back – the way his chest vibrates with the noise he makes. A typical Joel grumble, a Yeah, but also no. There’s a tension between you two, some sort of roadblock with the name Jean-Marc scrawled into it. It feels awkward, and sticky, and those are things you’ve never felt before with Joel.

His fingers are twirling the ruby ring on your finger, round and round. Your eyes fix on the way the sun lights the plastic gem, burning it into your corneas before your brain finally forces something out in attempt to break that weird wall down.

“Bet Martha hangs me out to dry for this when we get back,” you snort, “I can hear her now: Two different rings off a’ two different men!”

Joel’s fingers stop. You feel his cheek turn, his jaw brushing against the side of your head.

“Two rings?” he asks.

Fuck. Wrong thing to say. Fuck.

“I, uh…You know. That was just a joke.”

“What d’you mean two different men?”

Fuck fuck fuck.

“I meant, like…I meant…”

You sigh and sit up straight. You meant what you said before: there’s a lot Joel doesn’t know about you. One huge thing in particular, that you only happened to share with Martha one night after Joel had left the office – the two of you working late, checking off a to-do list the length of your arm and relying on caffeine to stay awake. Sharing stories and secrets in the dark office, freeing skeletons you figured you’d never have the guts to let roam in daylight.

Well, you just hammered the whole closet down. Accidentally.

“If I tell you this, it’s between us, okay?”

Joel clasps his hands. Nods once. “And Martha.”

“…Yeah, and Martha. Whatever. She doesn’t know very much about it, anyways. But no one else. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“’cause I don’t like to talk about it much.”

“Baby. I got it.”

The words are drawn from your lips like blood from a stone. They’re heavy, come tumbling out of your mouth like they’re made of lead.

“I…I was…engaged. Years ago.”

“Right.” Joel points to your ruby ring. “I got that much from the rings part.”

You sigh again. Why is this so fucking hard? It’s only Joel.

But then: it’s Joel.

“Not for long, or anything. It was a kind of high school sweetheart thing. We were together for, like, six years – all through senior year and college. Blake Carter. He studied, um, computer science. And on the night we graduated, he proposed. Right on campus, right on the quad. Had this big diamond ring, I think it was his grandma’s, or something.”

“And you said yes?”

“Well, I– Yeah, I said yes.”

Somewhere in the conversation, you’ve leaned back down, back against Joel’s body. Head turned into him, eyes scanning the riverbank, watching the buildings and the trees and the people pass by. You barely even notice until he shifts, clears his throat, and asks:

“’n then…it ended?”

“I ended it. Two days later, I…ended it,” you repeat, with a certain nod. A definite nod, like you’re still trying to convince yourself that yeah, you ended it, and yeah, it was the right thing to do. All these years later.

“Why?” he asks, earnestly. There’s no judgement in his voice, no prying. He just wonders.

“Um…” You shift now, tossing answers over in your head before you land on one that makes you think fuck it. “Just…realized I was more turned on by the degree in my hand than I was by the man on one knee in front of me.”

It draws a laugh from Joel’s lips. A laugh that vibrates through his chest, through your back, and pulls a smile across your lips.

“I was,” you say, holding back a nervous giggle, “I know that’s bad, but I was.”

“And you said yes to ‘im anyway?”

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Said yes in the moment ‘cause I didn’t wanna look like an asshole, but…well, you’re an asshole either way, aren’t you?”

“Sure,” Joel mumbles, and you almost slap him playfully. But then he says, “You’re an asshole,” with a sarcastic dryness, and you realize he’s not teasing, he’s disagreeing. Genuinely disagreeing.

You sit up again and turn to face him. “I’m not an asshole if I say no to someone asking me to marry them?”

He’s just as defensive as you are. “Not if you don’t want to. What’s asshole about that?”

“Joel, he was on his knees with a ring in his hand.”

“And you didn’t want to marry him. Big deal. I’m sure he found some other girl who wanted that ring on her finger instead, didn’t he?”

You scoff, turning away to look out over the water. He’s being blunt about it, a little uncalled for, but he’s not wrong. You tell him as much.

“He married some girl I don’t know. All I know is she works at some firm, and now they have a son. I check his Facebook every now and then. They just got back from Hawaii with his parents. He cut his foot on something at the beach.”

Joel keeps up the sarcasm. “Sounds like you’re missin’ out on a lot of fun there.”

There are a million thoughts racing through your head. More you want to tell him; more you feel the need to confess. More to justify what you did, more to explain yourself and convince him that, sure, you broke Blake’s heart, but now he has a wife and a kid, and he seems happier. And you’re happier, too, so it wasn’t that bad after all.

But Joel doesn’t expect it of you. None of it. He doesn’t make any snide remarks, doesn’t ask questions that frame it as if it were all just one big bout of insane impulsivity. Just accepts what you’ve told him, takes it in with a nod of his head, and then stops talking about it.

He’s so fucking nonchalant it drives you crazy. Everything just is what it is.

Defeated, tired, and quite frankly stunned by how little anything you say seems to bother him, you quietly stare at the water, the yellow orbs of light from the street above bobbing in the black reflection.

Then Joel takes a deep breath, squeezes your knee and asks, “Wanna go get some dinner?”

“Yeah,” you nod gratefully, “that’d be nice.”

It’s a short walk back to the hotel once you’re off the boat – back along the riverside and down a couple of small, quiet streets. Joel holds your hand the entire time and, when you complain about them hurting, carries your heels for you.

Your eyes stay glued to the sidewalk, watching your shadow as you pass under orange streetlights. Your figure, barefoot, skirt swaying as you walk, hand linked to Joel’s, his frame taller and wider, a pair of heels dangling from his right hand.

He orders room service. You vote for pizza, and within twenty minutes, Joel’s bringing it through to where you lay on the bed, already stripped down, makeup wiped off, wrapped in your bathrobe. He made you put the Bart Simpson socks back on. Said they were the comfiest ones you own, baby, he’d chuckled. They’re rolled halfway up your leg, his impish grin on full display.

You pick up a slice of pizza as Joel scrolls through the channels on the TV, eventually settling for American Pie before he lays back alongside you. You blow on the piping hot cheese and take a bite.

“Nice?” Joel asks.

“Mhm,” you reply, hand coming up to cover your mouth. “’s hot.”

He leans over and hits a switch on the wall above the bed, drowning you both in the dull dusk seeping in from outside – aside from the screen which lights Joel’s face in a pale white, like moonlight. There’s a wash of warm light creeping in from the hallway, futilely clawing its way across the walls by the bedroom door but dying on the beige surface when it meets the glow of the TV. Like the sun and the moon blending together. Like day and night mixing right in front of you.

When you’ve had enough pizza, Joel shifts the golden tray from the bed onto the floor, flopping back down on the springy mattress with a sigh. You lay back, upper arm brushing against his, cheek leaning on the tip of his shoulder. It jumps every now and then whenever something funny happens onscreen and Joel snickers. You’d be laughing, too, if you were paying attention, but Joel’s voice is still echoing around your ears.

Sounds like you’re missin’ out on a lot of fun there.

Sure. A lot of fun. Slipping that diamond ring onto your finger, and waiting for his grass-stained knees to lift him back up to you to kiss him on the mouth and say Yes over and over, and then run back to your friends and show off the ring and clink champagne glasses, and then go pick a huge, obnoxiously white dress that makes your mother cry and girls you haven’t spoken to since middle school comment on your Facebook posts –

Joel murmurs something with a laugh and your eyes find the screen again; Stifler just walked in on his mom and Finch. It holds your attention for all of three seconds, before you’re back to picturing maple trees swaying and his suit trousers stained green and thumbs on your knuckles and –

– and then meet him at the end of a ridiculously long aisle covered in rose petals, and swell with his kid inside you and raise it and convince yourself that you love it despite the puke and the piss and then stand bouncing it on your hip in an emergency room while it screams the fucking roof down, all the while your boring, bland husband has the sole of his foot sewn up after two weeks playing card games with his even more boring, bland parents and hearing about their neighbor’s new Prius and why it’s not actually any better for the environment, that’s just what the companies tell you to get their claws into you and –

“Baby, you–”

A whole lot of fucking fun.

“–okay?”

“Huh?”

“You okay?”

Joel’s sitting up. The film’s paused. He’s staring at you, eyebrows arched, hand on your arm.

“I’m fine,” you murmur.

He tugs on your arm and pulls you up to him, hand cupping your face as he studies you intently.

The sun’s setting outside, washing the sky a faded pink which dies out as it climbs higher. The city’s lights blink at you, like a million eyes peering in from a distance.

“Where’d you go?” he asks.

“Nowhere,” you lie.

“Went somewhere. You were starin’ off into space.”

“I didn’t go anywhere. I’m watchin’ the movie.”

But he’s looking from your lips to your eyes, passing across the bridge of your nose as he goes. And you can feel the heat from his body even through two layers of terrycloth, can practically feel his pulse through the huge, steady hands he has resting along your jaw. And there’s a feeling brewing in your stomach – like pain and hurt that mixes up and confuses itself for longing – which drifts further down until it’s an ache between your legs. And that feels easier to deal with, simpler to untangle. Especially when Joel’s right fucking here.

“Just…c’mere,” you breathe, pushing his shoulders back down onto the bed and leaning over him, legs parted.

You want him to fix it. Fix you. Use his hands, and his lips, and his body to make you better. Kiss away any memories of Blake, and that fucking ring, and the way his face twisted when you told him you were leaving. Do more than just kiss them away – tear them from your mind with his teeth on your skin, each mark he leaves just more evidence of your belonging to someone else, someone new.

Someone you wouldn’t recognize if you met her five years ago.

“Baby,” Joel whispers into your mouth, kissing you back as roughly as you’re kissing him. His hands come up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as you fumble with the belt of his robe and tug    it open.

His lip still on yours, he hauls the shoulders of your robe down, the curve of your breasts spilling out over the white fabric. You sit up and untie the belt, shaking it off yourself properly before you’re back on him, pulling his arms free from his sleeves and pinning them down on the mattress.

“Let me – fuck you,” you breathe, grinding your core down on his already bricked length.

Joel’s hands rest on your hips; he’s looking up at you almost awestruck. Words stopping short in his throat.

“Need to fuck you,” you repeat, cunt slipping around him. “Need it, daddy.”

“Alright, babygirl,” he says finally, hips moving in time with yours. There’s a look in his eye that makes you think he knows what you’re doing, understands every one of your thoughts and worries without need to voice them. “I got you. I’m all yours. Just – come here.”

His hands scoop under your ass, lifting you from his waist, and he tilts his chin up. Pushes on the back of your thighs, nudging you further up his body.

“Joel,” you breathe, and his fingers squeeze into your skin.

“Come – here,” he says, sterner. Eyes dark, flitting up and down your skin, settling between your legs.

You obey him, shuffling further up the mattress until you’re hovering over his face, knees digging into the cushion by his ears.

“Sit,” he instructs.

You stare blankly at him. Your body doesn’t move.

“Wanna taste you again, pretty girl,” he murmurs, eyes stuck on your wet core just inches from his lips. “Gonna make you feel better.”

He angles his jaw up again, almost like he’s desperately reaching out for your body, and this time, you meet him halfway. Widen your legs, lower your hips until his lips are on you, and you fold forward with a gasp.

Your left hand hits the mattress above his head, right lowers to grip his hair. Joel’s arms wrap around your thighs, a tight, inescapable hold as his mouth opens wider, tasting more and more of you with each stroke of his tongue.

His tongue which dips inside of you, collecting your slick and fucking you gently, soft and wet and warm. He’s groaning as he tastes you, a low moan which vibrates against your cunt and elicits a similar sound from the bottom of your throat.

You need this. You fucking need this. Need the distraction, need the attention. Need to push every thought out of your brain for five minutes, replace them with pure pleasure. Replace them with Joel.

You’re grinding, rutting against his mouth as your knees slacken, all of your weight held up by your one palm splayed out on the bed, fingers curling around the sheets as you’re edged closer and closer to your high by Joel’s lips.

His hands become rougher, moving up to hold your ass, squeezing the soft skin until he’s running his hands between your cheeks, fingers pushing on that same sensitive muscle as last night.

“Fuck–” You jolt with a gasp, head rolling back in pleasure, core rocking hard against his lips.

Joel mutters a, “’s okay, babygirl,” and cups his mouth around your clit. He nudges one finger against your tight hole, pushing in slowly, and that feeling overcomes you all over again – your body pulling him in, throbbing around him, cutting your breath short and shocking you motionless until he removes his finger.

You whine, opening your eyes and catching a hazy glimpse of the ceiling for one second before he’s inserting two fingers, tight together, drawing a loud cry from your lips.

“’attagirl,” he mumbles against your cunt, only coming up for air long enough to utter that one word before his lips are back on your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue across the sensitive bud as his fingers push deeper.

You pant, whimper a weak, “Daddy…” while Joel moves faster. “’m gonna cum,” you whisper, and you feel him nod under your vice grip, encouraging you to fall.

Your hips move in time with your chest, heaving with the breaths escaping your lips as he pulls you down harder, heavier on his mouth. He’s fucking covered – beard soaked in your arousal, swollen lips pressed against yours, moving, kissing, fucking you so good you start to feel lightheaded.

“Keep – going – daddy, fuck, yeah…”

The feeling starts between your shoulder blades. A sparkling, tickling feeling, creeping up your neck and wrapping around your body, warm and snug. Running across your bare chest, focusing on your hard nipples, and then plummeting down between your legs like a bullet, coming to a climax right where Joel’s lips are.

You scream out, your right hand forced from his dark hair to hold yourself up as your orgasm bears down on you. Your hips grind against his mouth, rocking back and forth as your body is overcome with sensation, with pleasure, with him.

Joel moans beneath you, your soaking cunt all over his tongue, giving you both what you each should’ve had yesterday, before he cut it short.

You figure he’ll never do that again. Never deprive you of it again, never deprive himself of it again. The sounds he’s making, the way his jaw shudders around you, it’s like he’ll never again be able to go a day in his life without tasting you, without feeling you contract on top of him, your sweet release washing over him like an oasis.

And you figure you won’t, either. Won’t ever stop thinking about this feeling, replaying it over and over in your mind. Your legs draped over his shoulders, his face beneath you. His hand massaging your ass, fingers curving somewhere deep inside you. Dragging your hips across his open mouth, his nose bumping gently on your clit as you come down.

Your orgasm fading into gentle ripples of pleasure, Joel slips his fingers out of you and you push yourself off of him, sliding back down until you’re straddling his naked waist again. His hard cock brushes against the curve of your ass when you settle.

“That better?” he asks, voice rough and strained. “You get what you needed?”

“Mhm,” you moan, flicking your hips and running your sensitive folds up and down his shaft.

In an instant, he’s got you in his arms, flipping you over and throwing you down on your back, bouncing on the soft mattress beneath you.

With a squeal, you take hold of his shoulders, smiling as he lowers his jaw and trails wet kisses along your neck, stopping when his lips line with your ear.

“Gonna let me do my job now, pretty girl?”

“Yeah, daddy,” you purr as he lines up. He’s so fucking turned on, so hard that you’ll be surprised if he lasts two minutes.

But then he pushes in, slow, and you realize he’s not looking just to cum. He’s not chasing any kind of high. He wants to feel you, wants you to feel him, too. He wants to really fuck you. Properly. If you were reading into it any deeper than just sex, you’d swear he wanted to answer your silent request. You’d swear he wanted to fuck the pain away.

You both groan, your wet soaking him, his thickness already pushing you open before he’s even halfway inside. He holds you steady by the hips, filling you up inch by inch, your back curling more and more the further he goes until you’re chest to chest and full of him.

You’re so tight, and he’s so fucking big, that feeling him inside you at this angle steals the air straight from your lungs. Your mouth lies open in a silent moan, your brows knitted together.

“Take it, baby,” he groans, arms scooping around your shoulders as he starts to slowly pump in and out. His expression mirrors yours. “Know you can take it all.”

“Joel – fuck – daddy – right there,” you’re whimpering, forehead stuck to Joel’s, eyes flitting from his lips to his dark lashes.

“Yeah?” he pants.

“Yeah,” you repeat, “keep doing that.”

His hips drive deeper, still hitting the same spot, same pace, only harder, with more weight behind it, sending you into a dizzy blur of pleasure and pain. He takes one of your hands in his, lifting it to pin it down on the sheets above your head; your free arm wrapping around his shoulder, pulling him closer.

Something digs into the skin around your little finger, something sharp. You hiss, craning your head up – noticing Joel doing the same – and your eyes land on your little ruby ring, still wrapped tight around your pinkie, digging marks into yours and Joel’s hands with each movement.

When your chin lowers again, face to face, he presses his lips to yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue – you and Joel, your bodies and your wet, mixing as one between breaths and whines and whispers of one another’s name. You moan into his mouth, his hips smacking into you quicker now.

It’s working – whatever the fuck he’s doing. He’s driving every thought straight out of your mind before it’s even settled. Scaring them all away, sending them back to the shadows. You’re overcome by him – the sound of him, the feel of him, the smell and sight and taste of him.

And he’s sent spiraling by you – every sound which passes your lips is echoed by Joel; your gasps filter into growls from behind clenched teeth, your whimpers translate into groans from the bottom of his throat.

His eyes stay locked on yours the entire time; whispers of praise make the short journey between your lips – ‘atta fuckin’ girl, my good girl, look so pretty like this, feels good, doesn’t it? They pass your own desperate mutterings on their way – all the places you need him, all the ways you want him to do it. Harder, daddy, faster, fuckin’ me so good.

And then you’re pulling him in in more ways than one, clenching around him, feeling him twitch deep inside you. You’re both right there, right on the other side of that thin glass pane.

“Want – to,” you pant, “to cum – together.”

Joel nods, glancing down to watch where your bodies connect, where his hips push into yours, his cock burying deep between your legs.

“You ready, babygirl?” he asks, eyes still glued to your sex.

“Uhuh,” you moan, head falling back.

“Show me,” he whispers, lifting his head and taking your neck in his teeth. “Show me how good it feels.”

The glass pane shatters. Joel takes you in his arms and sends the two of you hurtling through it.

You scream out, knees pull together around his waist, pussy clenches tight around his cock which throbs, shooting cum somewhere deep inside you.

His head falls limp in the crook of your shoulder, the moan which escapes his mouth vibrating off of your body – your name laced through a whine driving into your hot skin.

And he stays there, for what feels like hours, just lying on top of you, chest meeting yours when your lungs fill, and unsticking when you exhale. His length relaxing, still deep inside you; face still buried in your soft skin, glistening with sweat, lips pressing barely-there kisses in the curves of your collarbone whenever he musters the energy.

He’s still panting. Shoulders rising almost violently, jumping when you ghost your fingers over them. You run your nails through his hair, soaked with sweat, and massage his head, pulling another whimper from Joel’s lips. His head turns, lips against your ear, glazed eyes fluttering open to stare at the city view.

“You okay?” you ask the quiet dark.

There’s nothing between you. No clothes, no sheets, no air, nothing. The room feels huge; you and Joel feel tiny. Lost in your own little world, lying in the blue hue of the still image on the flatscreen. Feeling your hearts thrumming against one another, like they’re communicating through the walls of your chests. Like they’re exchanging words you two haven’t heard of yet. Haven’t learned the meanings of.

“Yeah,” Joel eventually whispers, voice muffled by the way his lips press against your skin. “Never been better.”

----------

Late in the morning, Joel passes you his toothbrush without a word. Without some dumb joke to go with it. Likewise, you take it silently. Rinse it once, load it with toothpaste, and flick the button. He kisses the crown of your head and leaves you alone in the bathroom.

You feel split open. Like you’re walking around with a huge, gaping wound in your chest, your heart on full display. And not just flesh and blood, but the secrets that live in there, too. Secrets that now, Joel knows. He’s heard them pass your lips. Filled in the blanks himself, the parts you held back.

You feel scared. Small. As if every head turns to look at you when you walk into every room.

The only thing that helps is…well, him.

Joel.

And that scares you just as much.

The way he leads you out of the suite and into the elevator, always first, always in front. The way his body is big enough to hide yours behind it, wide enough that you can pull yourself as close to his back as possible and sneak by anyone as though you’re one person.

He only breaks apart from you twice: the first time is outside the hotel, to help Denis lift the cases into the trunk. You linger by the open car door, staring up at the hotel building, the lion heads cast in stone watching over the avenue below. Joel calls over to you and asks if you’re ready to go, and you slip into the backseat alongside him.

The second time is at the airport, where he does the same thing. Gives your hand a squeeze and then jumps out to help his driver hoist the luggage from the car over to the jet. You slowly follow them, this time staring at the white plane in front of you and feeling yourself being slowly dragged back to real life, claw marks in your Parisian dreamscape as it’s pulled from your clutches.

Denis’s smart suit struts toward you and you feel a light hand on your shoulder.

“I hope you enjoyed your trip,” he says, as softly as he can over the rumble of the plane’s engine.

“I did,” you reply, though the nod of your head probably does better to communicate than the pathetic whisper of your voice. “I don’t wanna go home.”

He smiles warmly. His gray eyebrows lift, blue eyes twinkle beneath them. “You are welcome anytime. You will have my email address, please let me know if you are ever back in Paris.”

You return his grin, mouthing Thank you, and he taps your back once more, sending you off in the direction of Joel, who’s waiting for you at the bottom of the steps.

“You good?” he asks, wrapping a tight arm around your shoulder.

“Mhm.” You nod, and glance over your shoulder as Denis’s Maybach rolls away back toward the airport and, with it, takes every last drop of the last couple of days.

The plane cabin feels smaller, somehow. Less spectacular than it was when you were flying over here. The pristine walls feel plain, almost boring. And claustrophobic, like you’re in a padded cell or something.

You sit in the same seat by the window, Joel takes his place opposite you, and you fasten your seatbelts for takeoff. You watch through blurry eyes as Paris shrinks to nothing but shapes from the sky – roads like scratch marks in the surface of the land, the Seine you were sailing down less than twenty-four hours ago now like a tiny, winding snake.

Joel’s watching you. You know it, can see him from your peripheral. You’re deliberately ignoring the look on his face.

He leans forward and rests a hand on your knee. “You wanna go lie down?”

You shake your head, wrapping your fingers around his. “Wanna stay with you.”

“I’ll come,” he mumbles, thumb rubbing across your fingers. “I’ll come, darlin’.”

You lift your head and look him in the eye, finally seeing his expression. And it’s not one you usually spot on lighthearted, borderline-blithe, kinda-cocky-about-it Joel Miller. He looks…he looks concerned. Looks imploring, trying to work out what’s gotten you so quiet all of a sudden.

You offer him a weak smile, an attempt to convince him you’re okay that doesn’t land with him at all, and you know it. So instead, you take a deep breath and nod, and Joel instantly stands up, folds his laptop under his arm and lowers his hand to you.

You take it, letting him lead you back to the bedroom, where he pulls back the sheets and lets you climb in.

“Get some sleep, baby,” Joel whispers, and then slots in beside you, settling the laptop back on his knees and leaning over to shut the window shade. He’s mid-reply to some email from Ken. Another painful reminder of the normalcy you’re hours away from returning to.

You hook your elbow around his, press your cheek into the soft fabric of his t-shirt sleeve. Watch his wide knuckles as they move across the keyboard, typing about buyouts and dividends and other corporate words that all fade into a blur of black strokes on a white screen as your eyes start to roll closed.

The last things you remember are these: the light feeling of Joel’s shoulder moving as he types, the smell of his cologne, and the sound of your voice mumbling something to him. And then you pass out.

----------

taglist: @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @noisynightmarepoetry @@isimpforfictionalmen @lizzie-cakes @sarahhxx03 @tobuildahomeinthewoods @kittenlittle24 @suzmagine @adaslittleblog @bbyanarchist @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @dizzyforyou @whatsliferightnow @slvbl @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @casa-boiardi @msjarvis @acornacreacure @totallynotastanacc @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @cool-iguana @serenaxpedro @lizzyervs @bitchwitch1981 @brittmb115 @stormseyer @scarletthefierce @patti7dc @pattwtf @pascalpvnk @jediknightjana @jessie8605 @caitispunk @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi @gracieispunk @hellishjoel

(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #ceo!joel miller #ceo!joel #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller x you #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #softdom!joel miller #softdom!joel #sugardaddy!joel miller #joel tlou #joel the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #dom!joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #fluff #smut #angst #sex on fire

[urrockstar-xe]

happy birthday - j.m x fem!reader

posted nov 27th, 2023 9:50pm

anon asked: could you do bestfriend jj asking reader out on a date for her birthday present and he tells her he’s been in love with her for years🩷🤭

so sorry for the wait!! for the sake of this, pretend reader and jj kissed before finding the gold instead of jj and kie i also don't know HOW THE FUCK but i forgot abt the love confession I'm sorry :( okay muah. it's def way past ur birthday but happy birthday! my grandma used the sing the beatles song to us on our birthdays! i hope u like it :)

masterlist

wordcount: 1.2k

Loud cheers and “HAPPY BIRTHDAY”s rang through your ears the second you were within eyeshot of your friends all out back of the chateau. The smile on your face only got bigger when Sarah and Kie tackled you in a hug, all three of you going down in a fit of giggles and more “Happy birthday!”s

Helping each other stand up, you all made your way closer to the rest of your friends all of whom shared your cheerful smiles. John B was the next to pull you into a hug, “Happy birthday,” he smiled. “Thanks, JB.” You smiled, pushing him off you as he messed up your hair, earning a laugh in response. Cleo nodded at you with a smile from where she sat, “Happy birthday, Y/n/n” you thanked her, before being pulled into another hug by Pope and JJ this time, earning another round of laughs from the group as they nearly crushed you in between them both happily singing The Beatles birthday song, You laughed again, smiling when JJ threw his arm around your shoulder and kept it there even after the hug had ended. “Thank you guys, that was sweet” You spoke, your cheeks warm from all the affection. 

“So birthday girl, what do you want to do today?” John B asked, rubbing his hands together eagerly awaiting your answer. 

“I actually just wanna hang out, with everything that’s happened these last few months, we haven’t really had the chance so!” You announced, smiling nervously as if for whatever reason they’d reject the idea. Instead, it was met with nods of understanding and excited high-fives from the boys. 

John B gave JJ a pat on the back and a wink before moving back to sit with Sarah, giving you a weirdly suspicious smile before JJ spoke up, “Although, we-” Pope forced a cough and cleared his throat to cut JJ off, giggles coming from the girls. “I had an idea in mind for tonight though, not the whole day just a few hours tonight” JJ shrugged, grinning at you and dropping his arm from your shoulder to fully turn to you. 

You smiled back, “Alright, bring it on, Maybank” You laughed through your words, expecting this surprise of his to be something illegal or some last-minute party at the point, but as more cheers for the long-awaited normal day came from the pogues your thoughts were practically wiped clean with matched excitement.

And so you had your usual summer day on the water, with your usual playlist and John B pushing Sarah in the water, Pope in charge of steering the boat with newfound company in Cleo, and JJ shaking cold water droplets from his hair onto you and Kie’s laps like a dog. Kiara had snagged food from her parents and nobody asked how but JJ and John B showed up with beer.

Now as the sun set and a breeze hit your shoulders you found solace and warmth in JJ’s thin but discarded button-up, Pope was taking the boat back to land for whatever JJ had planned and everyone was calmly chatting amongst themselves, not including Kie and JJ who were bickering over what time was best to get high. 

As the Chateau came into sight you felt JJ's head fall onto your lap, looking down to see him already smiling up at you.

“Sup pretty lady,” he said, his sunglasses falling perfectly on his nose and his hair just slightly damp and cold on your thighs. “What’s up, J” You smiled back as always, ruffling his hair but leaving your fingers entangled in it. 

“Ready for your surprise?” JJ was evidently eager about his plans but when was he not, even the bad ones had JJ shaking with excitement.

Actually, especially the bad ones.

You nodded, growing impatient when you were suddenly hit with the realization of not really knowing what this surprise was.

JJ stayed like this the rest of the time left on the boat, starting up mindless conversations with you and asking dumb questions when the conversations would seemingly end, it made it feel like you hit land a little too soon, suddenly missing the feeling of him being so intimately close as he stood up and hopped off.

The boys helped the girls off, JJ grabbed your hand once Sarah was safely secured and on her way to the old hammock. Although when he helped you he held onto your hand longer than necessary turning to the rest of your friends and announcing you’d both be on your way to Pope’s place to pick up the dinner Mrs Heyward so graciously offered to make for your birthday.

John B sent JJ another wink before waving you guys off. Your friends all watched as you guys got on JJ’s bike and headed off, all giggling and chatting about whatever this surprise was. 

“Thank you so much! I owe you, Miss Heyward!” JJ yelled as he ran back from the door to his bike, you waved and blew Pope’s mom a kiss as she called out a happy birthday before JJ handed you the box of food and promised to go slow while starting his bike back up.

He actually kept his promise and after what felt like forever you stopped not too far from the docks where you grew up watching the boys fish and as JJ ever so graciously took the box of food from your hands you began approaching it.

And there it was, an old blanket you recognized from John B’s couch laid out on the old wood, with a rock on each corner to hold it down and a single candle set in the middle, the melted wax signaling it had been lit but the wind had blown it out and as you watched JJ set down the box and turn to you with a nervous smile, clapping his hands together, you realized what this all was.

“So uh, I couldn’t think of anything to get you, and you said it yourself this morning! With everything going on the last few months, it’s been a lot for us and we never got a chance to really establish what this” he motioned between you two with his hands, “what we were, so what better than to have our first date?” You pouted as he finished, ignoring his worried questions at the pout as you got closer to JJ and wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling at how fast his hands landed on either side of your waist. 

“JJ, this is so sweet, you are so sweet” You whispered, close enough to feel his breath. JJ smiled, his worry instantly fading as he sighed. “God, you scared me” he laughed, earning a laugh from you as well. 

“Happy birthday, baby” JJ whispered back, a soft look in his eyes as they flickered from your own and your lips.

And for the first time since just before finding the gold, you felt confident in leaning up and closing the small gap, pressing a long overdue kiss to JJ’s lips, laughing breathlessly as his lips chased yours when you pulled away.

best birthday ever

#jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj mayback imagine #outer banks x you #outer banks imagines #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #Spotify

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 10 (Part 2 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

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

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

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

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; depression; feelings of stress and anxiety; feelings of sadness; abandonment issues; allusions to a dark, forgotten childhood; arguing; heart issues addressed (POTs); use of heart monitors; revisited, vivid memories of sex; jealousy; body changes as a result of pregnancy; suuuuper sore boobs; negative self-talk (stretch marks specifically); talk of baby + pregnancy; pregnancy hormones...things get heatedddd; reader and jake are both stubborn + turned on, but can't be together and it's TOUGH; cheating; heavy petting; rubbing of bodies against each other (see: dry humping); hands on boobs oopsies (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 16.7k+

a/n: hi babes… <3 this is my personal favorite part out of the two… so, let me know how you feel… ;) love u all. busy day! i'm so sorry it's late. plz know i love you all sm <3

s/o to @joshym who is my favorite and the most wonderful encourager and sister in the entire universe. i love you more than i can say. you make life sunny and everything better <3

also, @alwaysonthemend, i love you so incredibly much and i’m so grateful for you and your unwavering support and texts that never fail to make my day <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

-🌼🌼🌼-

“The covetous man pines in plenty, like Tantalus up to the chin in water, and yet thirsty.”

-Thomas Adams

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 25, 2022

Friendsgiving. A standing, solid tradition since the first Thanksgiving you’d spent as Josh’s friend. It had always been you, Elsie, Josh, Sam, and Daniel.

But this year, you’d be entertaining new people. One you were incredibly grateful for. Jake. And one you weren’t even slightly sure about.

Maya.

She was the last person you wanted to celebrate a holiday all about Thankfulness with. But, you had to. Stupid ass shit that you couldn’t control, so you had to just pretend to be fine with it. 

To your benefit, you had a distraction – a fantastic, welcome one in Elsie. Elsie and a morning of grocery shopping.

For Friendsgiving, in a group chat between you two and the rest of the boys, Elsie had insisted that you two be in charge of pies. So, you two were currently wandering the aisles of Walmart with Pinterest up, recipes open to several flavors of pies that Elsie had decided the two of you should make.

And the way to make homemade crust since she refused to use store bought. 

“It will be a fun thing to try,” she’d sworn, aggressively pinning a couple to your shared board.

You were the one in charge of grabbing things off the shelves, while she pushed the cart and bossed at you what to grab for each recipe. The makings for apple pie and pumpkin pie already rumbled around in the cart. So, now you were on to the final pies and their ingredients. The few cans of cherry pie filling had just landed in the cart when Elsie decided to confront you about Jake. 

“What’s going on between you and Lover Boy?” She asked, trying to sound absentminded in her question, but you knew she was not thinking of it randomly. She’d most definitely waited for a moment to hit you with the question when you were forced to respond. 

And, you were. You were currently completely stranded at a Walmart with only her and one car to get you back to the apartment. There was no escaping the question. So, you decided to do what you could and only answer halfway.

“Well, he knows,” you started, grabbing a bag of sugar off the shelf, avoiding her eyes. “And things are going good.”

“What a vague response,” she hummed. “Why don’t you grab a couple cans of blueberry filling and hit me with full honesty.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the can and turned to face her. A blush painted your cheeks that you couldn’t avoid. “I am being honest. He knows and things are good.”

“Yeah, that answer works for a random Joe, but not your sister. I’m not here for the fucking cliff notes.”

“I don’t care what you’re ‘here for’, Elsie,” you grumbled, turning to walk ahead of her toward the flour. “And why didn’t you ask me this yesterday when we had the entire day at Grandma and Grandpa’s?”

“It didn’t really feel like the right time to ask,” she defended, pointing to a particular bag of flour, which you grabbed and put in the cart. “I also didn’t want to stop talking about the ridiculous fangirl experience because that shit was hilarious,” she paused, gasping. “Oh! Speaking of fangirls and the other guys. . . When are you planning on telling Josh? I'm dying to start planning a baby shower and I want him to help me.”

“He didn’t tell you that I told him before my first–?”

“You told him?!” She asked, astonished. The cart squeaked to a halt behind you. 

Turning around with a laugh ready at your lips, you gawked at her. “What is wrong with you, Dramatic Ass?”

“Um,” she sharply started, hand on a hip. “My sister and my boyfriend are keeping me in the dark, that’s what’s wrong.”

“Josh is busy and I’m busy,” you responded slowly. “We’re not 'keeping you in the dark'. Also, he just found out a few weeks ago. It’s not like he’s known for–.”

“A few weeks?!”

You swiveled fully around to face her completely. “Els. Josh has never been one to talk about other people and their lives to shoot the breeze. You know this. He wasn’t going to bring it up if it didn’t concern him.”

“Well, it does. It concerns both of us. Aunt and uncle? Hello?”

“It’s also just a giant ass thing that I’m sure he’s still processing,” you argued. “Give him a fucking break.”

“I’m bringing this up to him,” she stubbornly stated, huffing and everything. “I’m going to make him own up to not telling me he knew.”

“You knew and didn’t tell him,” you reminded her. 

“That’s different; you didn’t want me to tell him.”

“And what if he thought I didn’t want you guys talking about it at all? He’s very sensitive to stuff of that nature.”

“I don’t know. I’m still asking him,” she firmly stated, continuing to push the cart forward, effectively ending the conversation with her tone. 

And, much to your joy, dropping the other part of the conversation as she went on a sassy rant about something Josh had done recently that pissed her off. 

It lasted all the way home and you were damn happy. . .

Although, you did have to work a little magic to get her to stop being such an over-thinker and asshole when it came to Josh. You had to give a plentiful amount of examples as to how he was all of these amazing things wrapped in one and not the person her mind was trying to convince her that he was. 

She had trauma and abandonment issues, too. . . she just didn't always show them like you.

But. . . it made you pause. Made you think of yourself and Jake. . . . your mind went to the clouds as you thought of your feelings towards him. You were still like this as you helped her carry in groceries, and only snapped out of it when she started bossing you again. Except this time, she was annoyingly giving you jobs around the kitchen to prepare the blessed pies.

-🌼🌼🌼-  

Jake had been the main chef for Friendsgiving.

All day, the apartment smelled heavenly thanks to his wondrous cooking. He'd started way early in the morning, and had awoken you with the incredible smells. . . but you had forced yourself to lay in bed rather than going about your morning routine. Truthfully, you really hadn't had to force yourself too much as you heard Maya's voice make unwelcome waves around the apartment through your door. You weren't in the mood for any of it this morning considering last night. Last night, when you'd seen him and Maya. . . . . Yeah, you'd still been in the process of blocking that the fuck out.

So, you'd only caught a little glimpse of him buzzing around the kitchen before Elsie and Josh had shown up. At which point, Elsie had been ready to hit Wally World.

But, now that you were back, you'd noticed that he'd taken charge of a few very important tasks. He'd roasted a giant turkey in the oven, made rolls and mashed potatoes from scratch, and a delicious gravy to accompany all of his dishes. Josh had been in charge of casseroles, and the other two hooligan men had been in charge of drinks and salad (a big bag of lettuce from Walmart with a bottle of Ranch and a plastic container of cherry tomatoes). 

Maya had been in charge of nothing, claiming via Jake that she would be helping him. But all day long, she’d just sat around, looking way too stupidly pretty, and watched him cook. Lazy ass. 

While you and Elsie slaved away at dessert, thankfully Jake was done with his preparations (save for the turkey that still cooked and created the most appetizing aroma). Meaning that Maya had followed him and wasn’t looming in the background as you made pie.

Which was good because you really did not need her around you any more than she had to be.

As you made pie after pie and sat them on top of the oven to go in once the turkey came out, you filled Elsie in on everything else that had taken place in your life as of late. Told her about the emergency room visit and everything you’d found out at the E.R.; how you’d come up with a solid morning routine to attempt a healthier pregnancy; and any intricate therapy detail that came to mind. 

The boys had been sitting in the living room, playing music on a few guitars (Josh, filling up the apartment with old Elvis tunes). Then, opting to talk for the majority of the time.

So, you'd been able to gain precious time with your sister. She had encouraged you and supported you just like you knew she would. She’d also gotten onto you for not taking better care of yourself and not taking prenatal vitamins sooner.

“You fucking idiot,” she laughed, bumping your shoulder with hers as she passed you in the kitchen with the last pie. “No, but really. I’m sorry that you’d been so stressed and overwhelmed to the point of forgetting to do shit like that. I wish I’d lived closer to you for the beginning of it all.”

Your ears perked up at that. “Yeah. . . Me too,” you said slyly, considering options as they filtered through your head. “What would it take for you to move closer? I don’t want to be selfish, I just don’t want to do this without you.” 

But, after the words came out  of your mouth, you heard just how selfish they sounded. Though, thinking about her being with you for the baby had been something at the back of your mind that you’d been contemplating for weeks. It didn’t mean you needed to drop that fucking bomb on her though. . . The baby wasn’t her thoughtless decision that she needed to change her life for. . . It wasn’t fair to her. 

“I’m sorry, Els,” you slapped a hand to your forehead, shutting your eyes to avoid any further self-induced embarrassment. “I didn’t even think about that before it slipped out. You don’t have to change any—.”

“Well,” she started, coming close to you and removing your hand from your head. As she held your hand in hers, she continued speaking. You opened your eyes to her. “That was actually my thing that I was waiting to tell you. . .,” she paused, trailing off. A slow smile lit up her features as her eyes brightened. “I put in a request for an office job attached to the company I work through. An office job for a branch of the company - based here in New York. . . Told them I didn’t want to travel any longer and that I’d appreciate something steadier as life changes. . .”

Your ears filled with excited static. “What?!” You gasped, eyes lifting with hope. “What did they say?!” 

“Well, a few people talked to a few people, and the director of the program I’m in gave his permission and then recommendation to that part of the company,” she rushed out. “So, in a few months, I’ll finish out my contract for this job and be living here full time for the new one.”

There was almost no time between the moment she’d said the words and the moment you’d leapt from your spot in the kitchen to give her the tightest hug you could muster. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Jake’s POV

She looked fucking gorgeous today. Everyday, in fact. But for the past couple of days, all I could think about was how thankful I was to have her in my life. Tis the season. No matter what, I was very thankful for her. . . For so many reasons. 

Though, the most prominent reason in my mind at the moment was how thankful I was to her for carrying our baby. So selfless and motherly and lovely. . .

So, I couldn’t help stealing repeated glances at her. I just hoped I wasn’t being too obvious. She was always beautiful, stunning—actual perfection walking—but the fact that our baby was in her belly just made matters much worse for me. She glowed in a way that she never had before. . . Drew my eye to her in a way that couldn’t be stopped.

It was wrong for me to look at her like this. I was in a serious relationship with someone else. . . I definitely shouldn’t have been eyeing her the way I was through the open layout, into the kitchen from my spot in the armchair. And especially not while I had my arm wrapped around my extremely hot girlfriend, and her nice fuckin' ass sitting halfway on my lap.

And, really. . . y/n had effectively broken—no, shattered—my heart all of those months ago in the kitchen. She shouldn't have drawn my eye to her the way she did after what she'd said. But, I really couldn't hold that against her any longer. It didn't matter as much as it once had. . . not anymore.

But, we weren’t meant to be. Honestly, I wasn't sure if I wanted us to be. . . It seemed too difficult for the two of us to manage. And, I had Maya. . . Mayamayamaya.

I would've been lying, though, if I said she wasn’t the most incredibly created human being. She was sculpted by the gods. . . Meticulously made to ruin me. When she really shouldn't. Fuck.

And now that she held my baby. . . The way her tummy rounded out more than usual, under her sweater—that shit left me completely speechless.

The way she held pregnancy was unparalleled to every other woman that had ever done it before. She was ethereal. And as great as Maya's ass was, there was truly no comparing it to the way y/n's ass looked in those leggings I’d seen her wear no less than a million times before. . . And just like every time before, I wanted to walk up behind her and feel the curve of it. Rip them the fuck down and bend her - dammit. I was so fuckin’ weak for her.

But anytime I felt Maya move against my arm, or lap, or smelled her perfume wave off of her with an action, I was reminded of how completely wrong it was for me to be checking y/n out. It was wrong how I couldn’t get her out of my head—all the time, she was there. Even in the most intimate moments with Maya, she kept creeping the fuck into my thoughts. 

But, truly, it just happened. Couldn't control it.

And, even when I got up to check on the turkey once more, I couldn’t help my reaction when I passed her. When I'd accidentally brushed past her on her way out, the way my heart pounded in my chest as our bodies touched for a millisecond. She smelled so sweet—just like a damned sugar cookie. And the way she’d passed so delicately against me. Her top half had pressed against me for a stolen moment in time, her eyes catching mine as her precious bump skimmed my waist.

And her breasts. Felt those, too.

My chest tightened and my dick twitched—it was almost too much. The air was stolen from my lungs. 

We were so close for those few seconds.

“Sorry,” she hushed, her eyes flicking up to look at me. A small smile was sitting on her lips, more out of embarrassment than anything. Her cheeks were the prettiest pink under my gaze.

But she wasn’t the one to be embarrassed. I was the only one who should have been embarrassed — for how I was instantly a teenage boy again, just because of a little brush from her body. 

“Don’t be,” I mouthed, like we were sharing a secret. My lips lifted to reassure her and my eyes lit up with an emotion I couldn’t explain if I tried. 

Her face softened at my expression, and then she was gone. 

And once I’d gotten the turkey out of the oven, I was mostly back to normal. I’d forced myself to think about sad images of roadkill enough to ruin the mood I’d set in my head. 

After breathing a few deep breaths, I called out that dinner was ready and all I could do was hope for the best for the rest of the day. 

End of Jake’s POV

-🌼🌼🌼-

Thanksgiving carried on from when lunch started at two in the afternoon, to the evening, and saw your friend group (and Maya) sitting around the living room.

You were all bouncing back and forth with the Roku remote. Rotating around your semi-circle, every person took a turn choosing a YouTube video to cast.

It had turned into a sort of game of who could play a song that meant something to someone else in the room. Jake had just had the remote, right before Elsie, and had played a song for Josh. It had been some song from Seussical The Musical, to which Josh had sung along to every word. He’d even gone so far as to get up to do a little performance of the song. 

“That’s exactly how it went,” Josh had chuckled heartily, the sound starting deep and lilting at the end. He dropped his arms from an obviously rehearsed dance routine, the song ending on a final high note. “I swear to God.”

“Oh, Joshua,” Sam’s eyes bugged as he looked at Jake with a laugh, who shared the moment of humor with him. “Trust me. We remember. Every single high school theatre production,” Sammy shook, as if reliving a traumatic memory. "All of it is seared into my poor, poor brain."

"Samuel, shut the fuck-," Josh started, before getting interrupted by his twin.

“Day in and day fucking out, Josh. That’s how often we heard those songs at home— for the months leading up to that damn musical,” Jake raised a thick brow. It made your tummy do somersaults - he was so handsome. “And I was lucky enough to hear it from backstage as crew. . . Every single rehearsal.”

“Yeah, you really fucking hated those songs,” Josh noted with a bubbling laugh, sitting back down next to Elsie, his arm falling around her shoulders. “Why would you make yourself suffer through that again?”

“Just playing the game,” Jake shrugged, rolling his eyes with a smile. He handed the remote over to Elsie, who sat on the couch, next to where he sat on the floor, in front of the couch. “But goddamn if I don’t ever hear it again, it will still be too soon.”

Sam agreed with a toast, raising his beer bottle as Jake lifted his. They nodded at each other from across the room. And you stared on, getting distracted by the woman who sat on the couch, criss-cross-applesauce, behind him, braiding his hair. 

Fuck that bitch, you thought hotly— ridiculously.

Admittedly, it took too far too long to look away from her pop-up salon. But you eventually did, and watched the screen as Elsie started typing something into the search bar. 

You knew better than to feel jealous of her. But, you couldn’t help eyeing her from your place, as you snuggled into the armchair with your favorite fluffy blanket covering you. Just wanted to let the chair swallow you, so you nestled deeper and closed your eyes to imagine it.

“This is one of y/n’s favorites,” Elsie said, the pre-video ad starting on the television. “The first time she watched this, her life changed. The perfect mix of her love for classic rock and soul music.”

Instantly, you knew exactly which song she was talking about. And when the video started, your heart expanded in your chest, making everything feel fuzzy and light. Everything felt okay. 

Change the World. . . . the Unplugged version. Eric Clapton and Babyface. . . . so many memories.

“This is our childhood,” you said, voice thick with emotion. The amount of tears you cried on a weekly basis was nothing short of humiliating. The baby hormones were vicious in their attack.

“I can’t tell you how many times we heard this as kids,” Elsie affirmed, looking over at Josh. 

“Grandpa is a strangely huge fan of Babyface,” you giggled, throat loosening a little as the laughter bubbled from your chest. “This Unplugged vinyl played on a loop for a period of time.”

“It was that year we bought it for him for Christmas,” Elsie added, agreeing. She was watching the screen with tears in her eyes, too. “But you ended up loving it so much,” she looked over to where you sat. “That the next Christmas you got your own vinyl of it. From yours truly. You're welcome." She winked, blowing a little kiss your way.

“I do take partial blame for the constant looping on the living room record player,” you smiled, winking at her. 

She winked back. “Yeah, you and Grandpa had equal hand in his Unplugged record warping on this song.”

You grinned, sticking your tongue out at her as she did the same. When Eric Clapton started singing, you gave the screen your full attention. The sound of this song only brought back the happiest memories. Even before hearing Babyface’s cover, it was a family favorite. It was a song that made you feel whole. 

It was the one song your Grandpa loved to sing to you. . . Before this version had ever come to your family’s attention. He'd sing it in those soft moments that felt like glowing rays of sun hitting your skin on a hazy summer evening.

But when your Grandpa had heard the Unplugged cover on the radio, the Earth had shifted for him. . . And even though it didn’t top your Grandpa singing it, the cover featuring Clapton held a special place in your heart with how often you’d heard it bouncing off the walls of the living room. It played so often that you associated it with some of your best days. . .

You'd still been innocent enough, still, to enjoy the world through a rose-tinted lens. And, far enough away from the trauma with your Mom that life had felt new. Ironically, the cover of the song had come around when your world was finally feeling like it had changed. It had been an intricately timed re-release of the lullaby your Grandfather had once poured over you as you’d drift to sleep on both restful and restless nights. The song felt safe – sort of like your Grandmother’s cooking felt for you. 

“You know, it’s funny,” Josh’s voice cut through your drifting thoughts. You kept watching the two men on screen, but tuned in to your best friend’s dialogue. “Jake loved this version, too. When YouTube came around, he would watch this version back to back, trying to memorize the way Babyface and Eric complimented each other on their guitars. He always wanted–.”

“To play both parts and record them on top of each other," Jake finished, watching the screen intently. You’d let your eyes wander from the screen momentarily to see his expression after hearing Josh’s story. He still looked utterly invested; just like you imagined he had looked as a kid re-watching it over and over again on YouTube. “It’s not really an intricate piece. . . I just found it at a time when I wanted to try everything I could on guitar. I knew how to play better than most 14 year olds, yes, but I still didn’t know half as much as I do now,” he explained, never looking away from the musicians. 

You saw movement at his waist, and when you looked down to observe, he seemed to be playing a guitar part in the air. And you knew if he picked up the instrument right now, he’d match one of the men in time. Whichever one he was currently studying - you couldn’t tell. 

“I don’t know why I never recorded myself playing both parts. Synced them over each other,” Jake mused, still playing in the air. “I used Garage Band like it was an addictive fucking drug–.”

“You can say that again,” Sam inserted, acting annoyed but still grinning so wide all the same. 

“But I just forgot about it, I guess,” the older, long-haired brother continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “I’m getting the urge to do it again now – it’s coming back strong,” he chuckled, looking down at his fingers with a brow raised–just like he’d do if he was actually playing. 

It was fucking hot to watch him play so intently with nothing there to support him. Only his mind, full of the memorized chords from years ago. And to a song that meant so much to you. 

“I’m sure the guys at the studio would let you do it with their recording equipment,” Danny offered, also watching the famed musicians with intrigue, glancing over at Jake. 

Jake sucked in a breath, dropping his air guitar before leaning back against Maya, closing his eyes and sighing with one particular scratch of her nails against his scalp as she tugged out the french braid to start another.

Gag. You could vomit at the sight of their mushy-gushy behavior.

Your hand floated to your stomach to remind yourself of one thing you had that she didn’t. 

“Nah,” Jake sighed, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling. “I feel like it has to be done without the expensive stuff. It has to be recorded in a way that baby Jake would have recorded it. . . I just–,” He wrinkled a brow, releasing a grumble under his breath.

There was something he was concerned about. . .

And, as he sat back up to watch the men finish out the song, Maya made a little huffing noise, crossing her arms over her impressive chest. But, in all of her perfection, she covered the noise with a small smile and a shake of her head. Just seemed to be joking with her little bratty act.

Oh, how cute and funny.

She’d looked over at Sammy, who’d made a little sound at Jake’s words. You followed the line of sight.

“What’s the deal, brother?” Sammy questioned, leaning forward to emphasize his care for Jake. 

“I just don’t have the time to do a little side project like that–can’t even think about prioritizing it,” he replied, combing a hand through his hair, untangling anything that resembled a braid. Maya did outwardly pout at that. She whined his name and said something about her hard work. You couldn’t help the tiny smirk that lifted your lips at the scene. You tried your best to hide it, and just focused on the screen again. “And even calling it a project sounds silly with everything else going on in life right now.”

Before you could feel too guilty for the situation under your palm that added to everything going on in his life, Josh spoke up with a giant gasp.  

“Baby Jake!” The curly-headed twin exclaimed. You all looked in his direction, equally confused with knitted brows. “That’s just it; record it like you would have back then with the intention that it’s for your baby. Something fun to do. But. . . You’ll prioritize the time if it’s for the baby. If you look at it that way, it won’t seem silly at all," he wiped his palms, arm back over Elsie as he finished with jazz hands. "Ta-da!"

As the song concluded and the next ad started (an ad for baby diapers, of all things), Maya was urgently pushing Jake out of the way, claiming she needed to pee. And as she passed between your line of sight and Jake’s, you realized you were zoning out on him when your eyes met his, just as she rounded the couch. 

He gave you a small smile, his eyes staying on yours, floating down to where your belly hid under your blanket, and then back to your face when he responded to Josh’s idea. 

“Yeah, that sounds like a good plan, Josh,” he said, gaze never once leaving yours. 

The fire that rose from the pit of your tummy, all the way to your cheeks was not a new feeling with Jake, but for some reason. . . this time, it felt unlike any time ever before. 

-🌼🌼🌼- 

Everyone had stayed, having decided to lounge on couches for the night to sleep. They were all in equally deep slumbers (save for Maya, most likely still completely awake and waiting for Jake in his bed). 

You’d all stayed up until the wee hours of the morning–much later than you had in a long time. The only way you’d been able to make it, the tiny cat naps you’d dozed in and out of. As you’d done that, everyone else had continued on with their little YouTube game. 

Now, here you were, completely exhausted, practically dragging yourself to bed, ready to sleep. Just barely managed to wash your face before Jake had hopped into the bathroom, right after you, to brush his teeth.

But before you could make it inside your room, he passed by behind you. You weren’t even looking. You’d just smelled his heavenly cologne, a favorite scent of yours (and the baby’s, apparently) flood the space around you. You knew he wasn’t actually drenched in the smell of sandalwood and vanilla, but your baby-powered-super-senses could’ve convinced you otherwise. He smelled delicious and you could easily drown in him. 

Though, instead of focusing on that, you let yourself act on something that was threatening to leave your lips. No matter how hard you tried to stop it, your tired brain wouldn’t let the words halt. 

“Please don’t stop pursuing your dream or any other thing just because of everything that’s happening with me and the baby,” you rushed out, peeking up through your lashes for a moment before locking eyes with your hand on the knob of your door. “I don’t want you to ever feel like this is taking up too much space in your life or causing any unnecessary stress. You can back out whenever you want if you feel like that’s what you need and I won’t be upset with you for—.”

“No,” Jake responded, soft and stern, moving to stand in front of you. You had no choice but to look up at him, he was standing so close to you. His eyes bore into yours. “I’m not going to back out. I couldn’t do that–wouldn’t ever do that. I want this. I promise. It’s everything else, I think, that’s stressful. The baby is something I get to look forward to,” he reassured, his voice wavering just enough to worry you. 

But you didn’t let it get to you. Tiredness prevailed above any doubtful emotion you could’ve mustered. You could only sleepily nod your head at his words. 

“The baby inspires me even more to make it all happen,” he rasped in a velvety tone, assuring you. After, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. Your sleepy eyes slowly followed the motion. You wished it was you. “Everything else is still exciting, too. . . But it’s a lot and it gets me thinking about how different everything is about to be. It’s scary. But– it’s. . . the baby makes it all seem brighter. Better. I’m not just doing it for me anymore. Not even for my brothers. It’s for my baby,” his full lips spread into a loose, close-mouthed grin. “Our baby.”

Your tummy flip-flopped and all you wanted to do at that moment was kiss him. You felt the slightest inkling that he wanted the same, with the way he’d brought his body in front of you, closer than he needed to. But. . . you blamed it all on tiredness. There was no way you could trust yourself to make actual, coherent assumptions. You were getting carried away, and even though you wondered of the possibility that he could want it, you cut off the idea. 

Tired or not, you knew one thing. He didn’t want you. He had a girlfriend. A real relationship with a woman much more beautiful than you. So, before you could get trapped in his big, beautiful brown eyes any longer, you decided to bid him goodnight. 

Though, just as you’d opened your door to go into your room, he stopped you. “Hey, real quick,” he cleared his throat. You looked up at him, confused at the sudden stop. “Maya–um,” he shook his head, brows furrowed as he messed with his bottom lip. “She told me that she wanted me to help however I possibly could. She wants me to be attentive and helpful in any way I can be.” 

He was right there - a step away. His breath, fanning over your face. You could smell the mint of his toothpaste. “Obviously with limits,” his voice lowered a bit as his eyes peered down at you. 

What was that supposed to mean? Surely he didn’t mean. . . But, you responded the only way you could think to.

“Obviously. . .,” you trailed off, raising a brow out of complete confusion for the conversation’s direction. “I wouldn’t want you to cross any sort of boundary. You’re in a relationship with her. Not me.” 

“Yeah. She’s my girlfriend,” he replied, voice rasping on a hitched breath. His body felt as though it was wrapped around yours in an act of protection. He’d brought his hand up, above your heads, as his body curved in towards you. After a pause, he continued. “But I don’t want to make any boundaries with the baby ever. Not at all. I want to be present. From now until always.” 

Suddenly, the moment was gone for you. There was no way he’d ever meant it as anything more. All he’d meant was you needed to remember there were boundaries. This was all about the baby. It was selfish to ever think any different. 

You knew better than to believe any different than that. Your thoughts got out of hand so damn easily these days. Why did you let them wander so far when you fucking knew better?

You backed up, your back touching the doorframe behind you. He scrunched his brows, but you weren’t sure why he was acting confused. It was late. You were definitely imagining things. He was just tired, too. . . that was all. 

“So. . .,” he cleared his throat. “Just let me know however I can help with the baby. Please.” 

“Okay,” you whispered with a quiet nod of your head.

“Okay,” he muttered with a gentle, distant grin. He nodded his head as well. And right before he opened the door to his room, his words barely touched the air as he told you goodnight. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 28, 2022

Covid. Gia had Covid.

Your heart broke for her having to deal with that absolutely terrible illness. And your nerves were climbing up the wall at not being able to see her. She wasn’t so bad that you couldn’t email her if you had questions or needed advice. But, you also knew better than to bother someone who was sick with something like Covid. 

So, you were spending the time that you would have been gearing up to go to Gia’s office, on this chilly autumn day, pacing back and forth in your living room. Cuticles thin from chewing and perspiration accumulated at your hairline and under your arms, you weren’t sure what to do. 

The idea of losing time on healing before the baby arrived was stressful to say the very least. You didn’t want to be any less of a mother than your baby deserved. He or she deserved a mentally stable mom. . . and in order to get there, you required several hours on Gia’s couch. 

All that could wave through your one-track mind was how terrible you felt for being so stressed about your healing while Gia was so sick. She was the one who needed to get healthy sooner rather than later.

You tried to remember the words Gia had put at the tail end of the email she had sent. She’d put in a few words that reminded you how well she knew you.

Don’t stress too much about the session being cancelled. :) Things happen and we have plenty of time, y/n.

Those words, typed specifically to assure you. Except, you’d worked yourself up too much for it to work very well after you’d read the title line of her email. Just a few, simple words: Out Sick – Sorry!

If even Gia’s words weren’t helping to calm your nerves, you weren’t sure how you were going to make it through to the next appointment.

After an hour of feeling unsure about literally everything, you decided the only way you were going to make it was by doing some other form of self care. And the first thing that came to your mind was food. Food always sounded good these days (nausea taking a backseat thanks to your meds and second trimester), and it would help you feel better while also supporting the baby’s health in the womb.

But it took you no time to get sad because you didn’t know what kind of food you wanted. . .

You’d resolved to just not being able to win at life for the day when you heard the front door jingle on the other side with the sound of a key unlocking. 

Jake was home. Fuck. He was home to take you to therapy and you hadn’t even thought to text him and tell him– shit. Instead of doing what he would have rather been doing, he’d made a useless trip home. 

It didn’t take him long at all to notice you sulking next to the window, face-palming next to the it, where you’d been people watching minutes ago, from your vantage point a few stories up. 

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, concerned, as he came right up beside you. “What’s going on?”

Whenever you looked up from having your eyes pressed into your hand, you refocused your eyes on his worried ones. “I don’t have counseling today,” you sullenly stated. And rather than going into any more details, you just apologized. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. There was no point in you coming home.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he calmly reassured. Again, you found his line of sight. His eyes felt like the sweetest reassurance. “You look like you could use someone to talk to.”

“Don’t waste your time on me,” you waved him off, scrunching your brows in an effort to seem nonchalant. “Just go back to doing what you were doing.”

“Well, I don’t have any plans because I was planning on being with you all night,” he laughed just a bit, under his breath. He flicked at the tip of his nose with a pointer finger. 

“All night?” Your stomach swirled at the thought, but you also felt incredible guilt at stealing that time from him. “God, I’m so sorry, Jake.”

“Please don’t be.” It was his turn to wave you off while shaking his head. He swept a hand through his hair. “I’m glad I was here– glad that I am here.”

You didn’t really know what to say. There wasn’t anything you two could do that wouldn’t get completely awkward after a while. Right? It was only four o’clock and he planned on spending the rest of the evening with you? What were you going to–?

“What do you want to do?” He asked, adjusting his jacket over his shoulders. “Wanna stay here? Order in? Go out and do something?”

Going out sounded like a date. . . and that felt wrong to do. But you also absolutely despised the idea of staying inside of the apartment to wallow for a second longer. . . . 

And it didn’t take you very long to realize you were still wanting food, hunger starting to feel like empty weight in your rounded tummy. 

“Food?”

“Food,” he agreed with a grin, winking at you before turning around, effectively making your brain turn to complete mush as you grabbed your own jacket and followed him out the door. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

The night was one of the best you’d had in a while.

He’d taken you to get Panera. Weird, yes, but their tomato basil soup had been calling your name the second it’d come to mind, as you'd searched places to eat.

And after sitting across from each other and just talking about his budding career and your classes, at Panera Bread. . . he'd told you he wanted to take you somewhere special. And, just as the sun was setting, you’d pulled up to a Barnes & Noble on your side of Brooklyn.

“Tell me why you’re stressed,” he’d said, putting his car in park.

A used, four-door (hard top, thankfully) Jeep. An all-black, mid-thousands model. After riding around in it all evening, you’d noticed it rode really well. It was just slightly strange that he had a car. He hadn’t had one when you’d been. . .

You cleared your throat, back on the subject at hand. “I never said I was stressed,” you stated, feeling ready to combat the truth. For whatever stupid reason. 

“You didn’t have to say it,” he breathed deeply through his nose, turning down the classic rock station he’d been playing. “I know you.”

Deciding it wasn’t worth a debate (because it was the truth–you had been very stressed earlier), you sighed; running a hand through your loose, natural waves, you responded. “Well, I’m just. . . this therapy is for me, yes, sure. But it really is mostly for the baby,” you explained. He sighed and you placed the hand you’d combed through your hair on your rounded bump, covered by your favorite oversized sweatshirt. “And having one session lost that I can’t be working on getting healed for the baby stressed me the fuck out. Still kind of is,” you admitted, glancing out of the small, rectangular windshield. “I just want to be completely better by the time the baby is here.”

“What are you most worried about?” He softly pondered, prompting you to talk through it. 

“That I’ll be just like my mom and project my hurt onto my baby,” you said wetly, swallowing the thickness in your throat. “I have so much in me that I don’t understand and it scares me how much I don’t remember – can’t remember,” you blinked to allow the new tear to make its way down your cheek before quickly reaching to wipe it away. “And it scares the shit out of me. It makes me. . . this terrible person to other people. I need to understand all of me, so my baby gets the best parts of me.” Sniffling, you swiped at your cheeks to rid yourself of the few more tears that cascaded down your cheeks. “And I don’t even remember the last time I saw those best parts. . . . so if I can’t see,” you huffed, your eyes finally piercing his, which stayed on you, intently listening “H-how is my child going to see them?”

Jake hummed, rubbed his chin. He never took his deep-set, amber-brown irises from yours. “It’s funny,” he started, a little grin ghosting over his lips as he spoke, “I’m seeing those best parts of you right now. I see those 'best parts of you' quite often.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you unzipped and reached into your belt bag for your heart monitor phone, willing it to not go off. There were butterflies wreaking havoc in your tummy. Naturally, your hands found their way to your tummy. His eyes followed that particular movement.

“How do you–?” You sniffed, shaking your head, zipping your bag back after a moment. “How do you see those things? I haven’t seen them since before you came into my li–- for a long time. And never consistently. . .,” you rambled, eyebrows drawn together, thumbs rubbing circles over the tight bump. “I’ve always been a bit of a wild card with my emotions. And finding out more of what I'd done from Elsie. . . I'm just way too similar to my–.”

“Do you think she was as self aware as you are?”

“I don’t know,” you answered, honestly. You would go with no, but. . . “I don’t know her well enough to make that judgment.”

“Okay,” he nodded, sticking his bottom lip out. A grin found its way to his plush lips, looking so kissable in the cramped space of the car. You leaned further into the door so as to not tempt yourself of anything. He continued, “Well, I would say she probably wasn’t. Or else you wouldn’t be wracked with so much significant trauma. She wouldn’t have left you hanging with so much to deal with. . . she would have been there for you. Helped you because she would've wanted to help herself. Would've been self aware enough for that,” he emphasized. “Parents say stupid shit. They do stupid shit. They’re humans. What matters is how they ultimately react.”

“But I react so brashly, Jake,” you argued, needing to be heard. “What happens if I do that to our–?”

“You won’t. I know you won’t,” he consoled you, his eyes so earnest as he conveyed the words. “You struggle with saying stupid shit. I do, too. So does everyone. You’ll figure out how to handle situations better, but it won’t be as hard as you think,” he shook his head, taking the keys from the ignition. “Not for you. You are determined. And you’re not this monster you’ve made up in your head.”

“Well, –,” you started, interrupting him, only to be cut off. 

“And your best parts are too many to name right now,” he surmised, winking at you once more. You rubbed wider, nervous circles on your tummy. “But one of my favorites is your determination to help others. The way you care for others. And if a mother has those qualities,” he pointed a finger at your tummy, and trailed the finger up to point at your face. “She will be one helluva fantastic mother. I’m glad our baby will have you.”

“Thank you,” you replied after the words had actually cracked the surface of your mental warfare. No voice appeared to combat what he’d said, so you let them sink, all the way down into your brain to truly consider for later. You didn’t fight them. . . which you viewed as progress. “Thank you so much. I–I needed to hear those things. And you were the perfect person to hear them from,” you blushed, crinkling your nose with the words. A smile settled on your lips, eyes drying. “Because I know you’re going to be the best daddy to this baby. I’ve known it for a long time. . . So, it means a lot that you think the same. Seriously.”

“Of course I think so,” he smiled, glancing once more at your tummy. “And the way you're always holding our baby. . . you love her so, so much. You’re already so intentional about loving her.”

“Her?” You asked aloud, wondering why he’d chosen that gender. Your hands held tighter to your tummy at the assumption. “Why girl?”

He hummed, looking out the windshield, past your head, with a wide grin. “It just feels right,” he concluded, before motioning at the windshield, nodding towards it. “Look.”

You did as he said, turning to see a mother and son (presumably) traipsing up to the store, just past the nearest cart corral. The little boy was skipping, and the mother was watching her like the entire world started and stopped with the child. The sky was bluer because he was around. You felt that. 

“The way you’re watching them says enough, honey,” he concurred. There was that nickname again. . . Honey. Your heart skipped a beat at the term. “I see it all over you. You’re going to mess up. Parents do. My parents did a lot and I still think they’ve been the best parents.” When he gave a small, breathy laugh, you looked his way. He rubbed a finger over his bottom lip. “But what good parents do after they mess up is– they have humility and apologize. They show integrity to their child. You do that. Already. For me.”

Sitting across from him in the still air of the Jeep, you let your eyes bounce back and forth between his. His smell, warm, sweet, and woodsy, was enveloping every sense of your body, in the taut air of the vehicle. His breathing laced with yours, your heaving chest kept up with the rhythm of his. He was steadier than you. . . he seemed fine. 

You felt anything but. Your emotions were going haywire at everything he’d just said. The man he was to you. . . he was too good to be true. 

But, instead of letting yourself get sad that he wasn't yours, you looked at the store behind you and cleared your throat. It opened up your mind and the air in the car. He blinked a few times, tilting his head slightly, watching you. 

“Wondering why we’re here?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I thought– let’s get out,” he said, pausing the conversation to unload from the Jeep. You followed his lead, taking the tall step as gracefully as you could to get down and out. The slip almost happened–but didn’t. Thank god. 

Joining him at the back of the car, you waited for him to lead the way and continue. You wrapped your jacket tighter around your body, over the sweatshirt. There was a bite in the air that hadn’t been there before. Jake tightened his jacket, too, tucking his hands in the pockets of it. “I brought us here because I knew you were stressed. I knew it probably had to do with the baby,” he started, looking down at you. You felt his stare, looking up to meet it. “So I thought maybe coming here to get some books to study and prepare would help you feel more at peace about whatever was on your mind,” he drew in a breath before blowing it out into the cold, dry air. “And now that I know it had to do with preparedness, this was kind of–.”

“Perfect,” you finished, nudging him with your shoulder. 

He looked down for a second, his eyes read an unknown emotion before he kept on. “I know you probably have a lot of books already, but–.”

“There’s no such thing as too many,” you replied, leading the way through the automatic doors. 

“Precisely,” he agreed, coming to a stop as soon as the two of you had entered. Raising a brow, he looked down at you before throwing a thumb over to the in-store coffee house. “Want something?”

“You don’t even have to ask,” you responded with a light smile, walking toward the smell of comforting coffee and cakes. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

He’d footed the bill the whole night. . . including the surplus of books from Barnes & Noble. It had been a hefty bill, but he’d refused to let you pay. He had convinced you it was part of co-parenting – sharing purchases. And this was one of his first purchases to make for the baby.

“This was a good idea,” you mentioned at the end of the evening, juggling your one bag of books that you’d insisted Jake let you carry (the lightest one, after compromise) as you led the way up the stairs of your complex. “Focusing on other ways we can prepare for the baby, rather than worrying about what we can’t control.”

“I have a decent idea every now and then,” he chuckled, out of breath as he handled the bulk. 

Once you made it to the door, you unlocked it for the two of you.

And, for a moment, it felt so domestic.

It felt like a dream you shouldn’t dream. Arriving home after a big shopping run, walking through the door together as you laughed at the heaviness of bags and discussed a few of the books you’d chosen.

And as you made your way through the door finally, it broke your heart to see the night go. He wasn’t necessarily acting ready to end it, but the impending ending made your stomach turn. You wanted this for longer. 

He was going on and on about all of the things he’d researched as of late concerning babies and pregnancy and everything in between. You decided on grabbing a Canada Dry from the fridge, letting him sort the books on the counter into categories as he kept conversation easily.

Every now and then, you offered a small response to show you were listening, but otherwise, you let him talk. You loved listening to him talk about all of this. 

It made your heart feel ten times bigger. Though, as you took a sip of your ginger ale, watching him sort the books, your heart began to sink instead. 

You couldn’t help how much you adored his desire to learn about all things ‘baby’. He was already so good at his job as dad.

The way you’d felt all night–so peaceful with him. . . you knew it was good for you. He was literally your mental safe place (you hadn’t told him that though. Absolutely not). But. . . you knew it couldn’t go past the feeling of good friendship. Co-parenthood.

The unfortunate part, though, was that you really felt unable to stop the way you were feeling for him. It felt new and familiar all at once.

Though, you knew you couldn’t let yourself feel that way. You shouldn’t.

But with the way his eyes lit up when you looked up at him again, after staring at your feet in your whirlwind of contemplation, you knew you were doomed. 

There was no stopping the way that you felt about him. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

One morning at the very end of November, you woke up with a cold. A terrible one. The same cold that every other person in your classes was seeming to come down with. Theo had been gone with it all week, and you saw him more frequently than not to study. You’d decided on one or two days a week after class. There were also the few people who sat around you in class, who’d come down with it.

So, it was due time for you. 

Normally, you would have tried to make it through the day. But, you’d done enough reading to learn that coming down with a serious infection like the flu or Covid could lead to a baby’s fetal development getting stunted. So, you played it safe and decided to stay home until you felt better.  

You had called in to work that morning. And just after that, you’d emailed the professor you had that day to let  him know. Everyone you had spoken to was understanding, luckily, which helped you to sleep very peacefully. You only hoped that the extra sleep wasn’t just helpful to you, but also–mostly–to the baby.

Sleeping off the sick seemed the best option. You hadn’t really had the mental energy that morning to look into safe medicine to take for colds during pregnancy. So, sleeping it was.

Your colds were always intense–all of your sicknesses were. When you got sick, it never failed to knock you on your ass. So instead of stressing over it all that morning, you’d chosen sleep as the easier route.

You had been hoping that you’d wake up from a long nap feeling refreshed and better. . .but. . . you were not so lucky.

When your eyes fluttered open for the second time that day to find what was left of the evening sun peeking through your curtains, you officially knew it was time to figure something out. Your eyes were burning–hurt to open. There was an ache settled firmly in every bone in your body–weren’t sure if you were cold or hot. . . 

You were definitely sick. More than a cold. No two ways about it.

When you turned to your bedside table for a drink from your Stanley, you found your bedside table had a couple new additions since you’d fallen asleep. There was a brand new Stanley sitting next to your old one. One you’d eyed for a few minutes online a week or so ago, and then decided against due to the monstrously obnoxious size. . . 

You’d talked to Jake about it after he’d noticed your pensive face looking at your phone screen for longer than necessary. . . And now, there it sat on your white, wooden night stand. A 64 ounce, rose quartz Stanley, in all of its glory. 

And leaning against it and next to it were a concoction of helpful remedies with a couple of sticky notes to explain each of their benefits. The handwriting gave him away. Jake. In his scrawl, he detailed what to take and when, which ones you could take together. He’d even written out the link to a website talking about pregnancy-safe cold meds. There was also a fruit punch Gatorade. When you reached out, it was still cold. He’d been in recently.

Moving on from the drink and meds, you glanced at the Stanley and saw it had a sticky sitting underneath it, waiting to be read. 

Plenty of water will help you and the baby stay healthy. It was worth it 

It had perfect timing and came in the mail today of all days

:) –Jake

The note effectively had your head spinning from something other than sickness. . .his kind gesture, making your stomach do soft flips. Your hand floated to touch your tummy at the idea of him doing so sweet for you (and for the baby–his baby).

After reading his advice on what to take, you went ahead and took some Tylenol for your headache and body aches, then used a nasal spray to help loosen up whatever drainage you could. The Vicks rub he’d left had been a welcome solvent on your chest, temples, and under your nose. 

But, it didn’t take long for your stomach to start rumbling, so you took that as your sign to find something that would ease the scratch in your throat and warm you up. 

You went out to the kitchen for food, holding your brand new Stanley, taking several healthy sips of the iced water from it. When you bent down to pour food in Stevie’s dish, you realized there was already kibble in there. . . that Jake undoubtedly left for her.

You were sure your heart monitor was picking up all kinds of strange palpitations at his gestures. 

Around the time you’d noticed Stevie’s food, you went to text him to tell him thank you. Only to find he’d sent a text about twenty minutes ago saying he’d left for the night. And while it made your heart sink, you knew you had no right to feel sad about it. . . especially when he’d done so much to help you before you’d even woken from your nap. 

To add emphasis to that thought, you noticed at just the right time that he’d also left a couple Panera soups waiting on the counter for you. God. . . he was wonderful. You read the note he’d left with the two little sealed containers.

Soup is the best when you’re sick :) 

–Jake 

Your body was already hurting a little less after you’d heated and almost instantly downed one of the delicious soups. A warm shower sounded more than tempting, so you didn’t waste time throwing away your trash and making your way to grab the shower steamer pods he’d left for you on your bedside table (they were a pregnancy-safe brand, he’d assured on a sticky, which made you softly smile). 

After placing them in the heating shower to begin dissolving the comforting notes of lavender and rose, you padded back to the kitchen for your new Stanley when you noticed something on the counter.

In an arranged group on the counter sat a few books you'd bought the other night. You recognized them. They sat with a notebook, stickies, and pens. Two of the books were closed, stacked, and tabbed with stickies–all bright pinks, greens, and blues.

Though, there was one more, face up and open, as if he’d had to leave unplanned and hadn’t had time to shut it. There was a pad of stickies sitting atop the page it was opened to. A pen was on top of the pad, which, when you walked closer, realized there was plenty of Jake’s scrawl already written on it. The page had a heading that read:

Props and pillows and sleep, oh my! 

And he’d written the following on his sticky, which lay upon the page: 

–Look into pregnancy pillows for y/n

–Be patient!! 

–Do what you can to help her find the right set up for sleep or rest 

–Adhere to her sleep schedules (no loud sounds or bright lights when she’s asleep, etc) 

–She needs sufficient rest (has healthy outcomes for her and the baby)

You went to look at the cover of the book, but before you could look at it, you stopped yourself. For some reason, it felt like an invasion of his privacy. Even though he’d left it open on the counter, these were his notes, not yours.

But just before you could walk any further to the bathroom and ignore his notes, the book stacked on top of the other had a note stuck to the top of it. And, written in bold, black sharpie, were the words Remember: Do WHATEVER you can to help y/n – it’s for the BABY!

The words it’s for the baby being written with finality at the end of the statement reminded you that chances were, all of this was not really for you. . . definitely not. You didn’t deserve that from him. No, whatever was for you was done for the ultimate benefit of the baby.

All of everything he did was for the baby. All of the words of reassurance. The trip to the bookstore. Panera. The meds tonight. Taking you to counseling. . . ev-ery-thing.

And that was fine. . .

So why was a tear drawn to your eye as you sped away from the book that sat on top of the counter? And why had you felt the need to go back to your room on the way to the shower, to get the Stanley cup you’d bought yourself? Why did the thought of using the one Jake bought for you make your stomach feel all tangled and weird?

Because he doesn’t care about you, a voice nagged, reminding you. It was a familiar voice, filtering in from the dark tresses of your mind. He doesn’t care about you. This is for the baby. So if you feel like it’s for you, know it’s not. Let him help the baby. Don’t be selfish. The baby matters most. 

You couldn’t help but agree with the voice. The baby did matter most. Not you.

So, you resolutely chose to wait out the calming scent of the steamer, until it all pooled down the drain. Stepping in when the scent was gone seemed the only option, as the way the shower calmed you was only for your benefit and not necessarily the baby’s. 

Yes, it sounded fucked up and foolish in your head. But you were trying to navigate these thoughts the best you fucking could and you were grasping for something that made sense. But all you were doing was making no sense. 

God, what the fuck, y/n?

And, stupidly, for whatever fucking selfish reason (because you knew for sure you were selfish–evidence proved that), you found yourself hiccuping on tears that hurt your already-aching body, under the lukewarm spray of the shower.

He didn't truly care about you. Not really. It was all for the baby.

-🌼🌼🌼- 

Once your mind was lucid after your little cold-sickness stint, you noticed stretch marks had started showing up. One by one, they’d started becoming stark and apparent and made you feel gross. 

The creams and oils you’d ordered seemed to help the slightest bit with the new darkness of the few tiger stripe-like lines. They truly looked heinous against your otherwise unmarred skin. You’d felt insecurities really begin to kick in after you’d cried in the shower on the first day out of three of your sickness. 

During the latter three days of your cold (or whatever the hell it was), you’d sulked and avoided Jake’s help in whatever way you could. You wanted his help with the baby. Only with the baby. But the baby wasn’t there yet. 

So, you didn’t need his help. He didn’t need to care about you. Only the baby. It was common sense. And it would be fine. 

But it still made you feel oddly unwanted. The feeling didn’t matter. 

But, for you, with your utterly complicated past, feeling unwanted came hurtling towards you, without any sign of stopping.

Since you were a child, feeling unwanted in your mother’s grimy home, a whole range of other negative emotions accompanied that familiar feeling. Most call it depression. Your oldest friend.

And, it had officially lit up for this new stage of your life. Why enjoy things for too long? It wasn’t worth it. Right?

So, the way your skin was beginning to scar due to growth you absolutely couldn’t control. . . it just set misery aflame in your amped-up insecurities and dispirit. 

On the first night of December, the depressive thoughts persisted. You stood with your big sleep t-shirt tucked up under your heavy-ass boobs as you lathered your tummy up with the last oil in your new, nightly anti-stretch mark routine. As you did so, tears pooled in your eyes at the sight of yourself. 

And, seemingly out of nowhere, your thoughts picked up on a different train. . . something you hadn’t really taken time to be super upset about yet. The thought slipped in amongst the rest of your woes. 

It was the thought of being a single mother.

And while it didn’t matter and wasn’t completely true, because Jake would be there, you’d still be doing it on your own in a sense. You would be on your own. The two of you definitely weren’t together. He wouldn’t be there with you. He would just be there, doing his own thing for the baby, with Maya by his side. (Nausea crept up at her name alone. Gag.)

You were going to be a single mother. Just like your own moth–. No. You locked eyes with yourself in the mirror, momentarily stopping the massaging of your belly. 

I will not let my mind go there, you asserted silently, staring daggers through your reflection. I am not her. I am not. I can’t be. I won’t be. What would Gia say? What would Jake say?

Amidst your crying and sorrowful thoughts, the knock on the door of the bathroom kind of spooked you. And, in the depths of your despair, you couldn’t really care fucking less who saw you right now. That was just how pitiful you felt. 

“Come in,” you said, sniffing and trying to cover the sound of tears in your voice by swallowing them. 

When the door began opening, you had to scoot over a little to let Jake in. You knew it was him. He’d been home all night with you, while Maya was busy doing whatever the hell she needed to do for her job. 

He’d spent a couple hours catching up on New Girl with you and it had been nice. Except, anytime you thought about how it wasn’t really for your benefit and rather him just being your friend for the baby. . . It just wasn't the same.

“You okay?” He carefully pondered, coming to stand slightly behind you in the mirror.

But, as soon as he appeared next to you and saw your current state of dress, his eyes went immediately to your bare tummy. He stayed trained on the bump that continued to grow, day by day. Still not huge, but definitely not small.

Insecurities were instantly blossoming at his stare. He was not looking away for anything, lost in a trance. He was probably in shock at just how big your belly had gotten, compared to the last time he’d seen you like this. Chances were, he was repulsed by what he saw. 

You effectively decided the stretch marks had been tended to enough for the night. You went to pull your Pratt shirt over the exposed skin. But to your surprise, his hand was shooting out, around your body, just as quick, to stop you before you could pull it down too far. 

He definitely succeeded in stopping you, holding your wrist. You were in shock – skin flaming at his touch . . .felt it everywhere. 

“I want to see,” he requested, sort of breathless. What? He wanted to–? “You look–this is–.”

“Ugly? Fat? Disgust–?”

“Beautiful,” he firmly stated, his eyes finally locking with yours in the mirror at the word. “This is beautiful. You are beautiful.”

His hand still held your hand over shirt, not daring to touch your belly. You couldn’t move to make the position change. The fact that he’d just called you beautiful was like a lightning bolt to your entire nervous system.

“I’m not–,” you shook your head, at a loss for words. You did not fully agree with him. Was it beautiful that you were holding the baby? Was the baby beautiful inside? Yes. But were you loving your body these days? Absolutely not. “The stretch marks. . . I’m so fucking big. . .”

“You aren’t,” he suddenly dropped his hand, and you were missing his touch as soon as it was gone. He went to lean against the bathroom counter, facing you. His eyes bounced between your belly and your eyes, settling on your irises as he continued. “You are not any of the things you called yourself. I don’t think any of those things when I see you. . . I don’t even understand how you could–,” he shook his head, blinking once before finding your eyes. “I just see a woman who is special to me. A beautiful woman who is carrying my baby.”

Carrying my baby. 

Those words. . . they did something to you. Your palms were sweaty as you held tighter to your shirt, rolled under your boobs.

“The baby is beautiful,” you concurred. And surprisingly, you didn’t trip over your words. “But I am–.”

“You are beautiful. I am talking about you right now,” he stated, with no room for disagreement in his tone. “Don’t discount that. Please.”

“Are you just saying these things because I’m carrying your baby?”

Where did that come from? Shit. Nothing like baring your most vulnerable feelings to the very person you feel most vulnerable in front of. . . 

“No,” he said without pause. He sounded sure. “You have always been beautiful. It’s just. . . enhanced now. I can’t. . .it’s hard to explain.”

You wanted to ask him to try to explain it but you didn’t.

All of a sudden, you felt confident to ask more. 

“You don’t just think so because of the baby? Do you just care about me because of the baby?”

Jesus. There it was. 

“We’ve gone over this,” he sighed, rubbing circles against his temple. He didn’t keep on with the action, instead stuffing his hands in his pockets as he found your eyes with his. 

“I know, but I just. . . I feel like I don’t matter. I mean, I really don’t right now do I?" You sarcastically laughed, eyes watering. "All I’m good for is being the big, fat incubator who hates her body and has ugly fucking stretch marks because my belly won’t slow the fuck–.”

“It’s good that it won’t slow down,” he reassured, amber-brown irises smiling with his lopsided grin. “It means the baby’s healthy and growing.”

“But you do think I’m an incubator,” you stubbornly persisted. “Didn’t say anything to argue that.” Your tone unnecessarily snipped with your next words, “Jake, you just want to help the baby. I know this. So just wait until the baby’s here. Don’t worry about me or making me feel better if you just want to help the–.”

“Where are you getting this from?”

You stared at each other for a few moments. . . . He gave you a look that told you he could see you.

“My mind is a really twisty place,” you huffed a humorless laugh, rubbing your own temples now. “It never shuts the fuck up,” you paused–didn’t want to say anything about the sticky note on the book that had spurred the thoughts. The same thoughts you’d voiced the night you’d told him. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve already been insecure about all of this shit. It’s just–.”

“I don’t view you as an incubator,” he insisted, crossing his arms, strong fingers wrapping around stronger biceps. “I view you as a brave fucking woman who is being selfless as hell. You’re growing a fucking human, y/n,” he said, grin widening. You felt your lips lift, too. He continued, “And I can’t help but be amazed by that alone every. single. day. And while that is beautiful, yes - I won’t say it isn’t because it is,” he unwaveringly asserted. 

“But. . . it’s more,” he kept on. “You’ve been this woman-the one in front of me - for a long ass time–before I ever knew you. Though, since I’ve known you, I’ve had the privilege of seeing this woman. I knew your heart right off the bat–since the day Josh told me about this girl who was letting a man she didn’t know move into her fucking home. Just because she cared about the situation. Didn't even know me," He raised a brow, lips quirking as yours did the same. “You’re selfless and–,” he paused. 

His eyes shut briefly before opening to yours. Except this time. . . they were wet with emotion. Yours were, too. Your heart was pounding and you felt warm with a blush, from your chest to your face.

“And kind. So thoughtful when you don’t need to be. You care a whole fuckin’ lot for others and sometimes it gets you in trouble because you get in your head and it hurts you,” he said, brows dipped with a shake of his head. “But the fact that your heart is the way it is in spite of everything you’ve been through–I can’t even imagine, y/n. All of that and so much fucking more makes you beautiful,” he tucked his hair behind his ears before they went back into his pockets. “So, no, it’s not just because of the baby. It’s just one more thing that makes you beautiful.”

You were utterly speechless, and you couldn’t stop the wetness in your own eyes, a tear trickling down your own cheek. . . How could he even begin to say all of those things about you when you’d been so terrible to him? Always made assumptions?

You weren’t sure how much time passed when you finally swallowed down your own tears and found the most simple words you could mutter. “Thanks, Jake,” you whispered.

“Don’t thank me,” he winked. It clicked with you that you could faintly hear your heart monitor phone going off in your room. It was alerting you of unusual heart activity. No fucking wonder - with the poetry the man had just spoken. He heard it, too, apparently, brows wrinkling. “What is that sound that’s been going off for the last few–?”

“My heart monitor phone. My heart is beating really fucking hard in my chest right now and the monitor picked up on the palpitations,” you blushed, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear as you finally pulled your shirt down. “I’m not used to hearing people say things like that about me. It just catches me off guard when you–,” you coughed, blinking as you located some sense. “When anyone says sweet things like that to me.”

Then, you were back in time. Yet again. On the living room floor. That day it'd rained. . . a quiet, gray morning. He'd said things so like what he'd said just now. The same day those Aretha Franklin songs had sealed a place in your heart. Well– both of your hearts, apparently. . . according to Jake at the bar.

A comfortable silence had crept over the two of you that morning, he’d so obviously been watching you– admiring you–not to be mistaken for anything else as you'd laid atop him.

His next words confirmed it. 

“Even in the grayness of this morning, you shine so bright,” he said, almost absentmindedly. “You fucking glow, y/n. You’re just brilliant.”

All you’d been able to utter was a measly, “Thank you.” The sound of tears in your throat, behind your response, had surprised you.

“Has no one ever told you?” Jake had pondered, his warm chest breathing steadily and comfortably beneath you.

You’d explained how Josh and Elsie were kind to you, but. . . “hearing you say something like that. . .,” you’d emphasized to him. “Those words. . . It just feels good. I don’t know,” you’d shaken your head, a tear falling to meet his tanned chest. “And no one has ever said those exact words to me, no.”

“You are all of that and more, my lo—,” he’d cleared his throat, stopping himself from saying a word your heart was now longing so badly to hear. “You are so many things wrapped in one, y/n. So many fantastic things.”

“Stop,” you’d sniffed, more tears falling onto his chest. “You don’t have to say things like that. I promise I’ll still want to have sex with you if you don’t,” you’d laughed, wiping your leftover tears. The words had sounded funny (true, but still funny) as they’d left your mouth. 

“I want to tell you those things,” he’d said, firm in his response. “You deserve to hear those good things. Sex or not.”

And tonight had proven that he truly meant that statement. No sex, and still. . . .

But . . . goddamn. The sex. 

With that thought in mind, you couldn’t help but watch the sway of his ass in his tight black jeans as you followed out of the bathroom behind him. You bit your lip after bidding him goodnight– only able to think of how fucking badly you missed the sex. 

“I fucking love you,” he'd once told you - on the very night that had gotten you in this predicament. “And god, do I love fucking you. . .”

Not that word. . . Where had it come from just now?!

Love. Love. Love. Love. You hardly ever thought of him saying it to you–tried not to because it hurt and you knew it wasn’t true anymore.

But when he’d said those sweet things about you being beautiful just now. . . apparently, your mind couldn't help but chant the word . . .and the sound of him saying it to you. Why?! He was just being kind.

It was so hard wanting him and not being able to have him. . . Not like you ever actually had him - but before you fucked everything up with your stupid, hurtful words.

And, god, did you still want him. 

You couldn’t have him like that – all of the reasons were plain as day. But. . . at least you still had the memories. The wonderful memories. But being pregnant made the memories so much worse. . . because one little thought of how he felt inside of you had you actually throbbing for him.

As soon as you got to your bed, you were reaching into your bedside table for your favorite little vibrating instrument. The thought of that morning. . . the idea of having your breasts pushed against his bare chest again as he told you things just like he did tonight. . . You knew it wouldn’t take long for you to be unraveling. 

Before long, you were feeling all of the tremors you craved from Jake’s mouth, from the little toy held just right against your quivering bundle of nerves. And in less than five minutes, you were  shuddering, body tensing and releasing as you breathily moaned his name into your pillow.

-🌼🌼🌼-

December 4, 2022

Your week ended with a particularly exhausting day at the Black and Gold. 

Inventory had come out of nowhere. And, with Josh busy with his new career, it was mostly on you to prepare for it.

The two other girls who worked with you couldn’t give two shits and it showed when you’d shown up for a shift after theirs. Nothing was ever prepared in the evenings or the following mornings if they were in charge—and inventory week was no exception. 

In fact, it was glaringly more obvious when it was such an important week as inventory week. 

And having to do all of that after your few solid days of feeling like complete and utter crap and while being pregnant? It had been one of the longest days you’d had in your whole life (dramatic? Maybe. But whatever.). 

And to top it all off, you’d come home to the apartment being very warm to accommodate the cooler weather outside. 

For normal people, it probably felt nice to come into the warmth. And, most likely, it would’ve felt great to you before your pregnancy.

It was just too damn hot in the apartment tonight. You’d wanted to come home and take a warm shower to wash off the day and relax your sore muscles, but the temperature of the place had you throwing that idea away real quick.

So instead, you hurriedly went about feeding Stevie before rushing to your bedroom to dig out the box fan stuffed at the top of your closet. You’d bought it the summer the A/C had let out on you and your sister, and had kept it handy ever since for fear of it happening again. 

And at this exact moment, it felt just as hot to you as it did that summer the A/C quit working.

The fan was plugged in and blowing at full blast, towards the bed, in no time. It was sitting on top of your vanity seat, pointing right at your side of the bed. The speed at which you’d gotten it situated was astounding. And your sheets were cool and crisp and tempting you to climb into them when you pulled your covers down. 

But you couldn’t climb in yet with the way your bladder was squeezing and hurting with how badly you needed to pee. You’d put it off at the B&G, ready to get home. And then you’d come home to an uncomfortably steamy apartment.

Before heading to the bathroom, you stripped completely of your tight bra (thank you, God), your stuffy sweater and your leggings. Then, changed into a thin pair of pajama shorts and the first camisole you could find in your chest of drawers. And thankfully the thin strapped shirt had no built-in bra to constrict you. 

You’d welcomed Stevie into your room, her soft purrs and shaggy fur rubbing against your ankles as you promised her of your soon arrival back. 

Finally, after peeing and washing your face, you were ready to lay right in front of that fan. 

You stopped by the kitchen to quickly grab a Stanley from the counter– to find nothing. No Stanley. Neither of them.

Shit.

Slapping your forehead, you remembered almost instantly where they still sat on the counter at the Black and Gold. Both of them. Your rush to leave and rest from your long day had prompted you to forget a couple of your most prized possessions. 

Without your go-to water tumbler, you felt naked. And even more thirsty. 

Your day had been long and hard and now you were paying for it. Ugh.

When you scanned the kitchen for a quick alternative, your eyes immediately landed on the case of waters that Jake had recently bought for rehearsals only. You didn’t give two shits. You were bound to steal one to satiate your thirst. 

The one problem was. . .

It was sitting atop the fridge. Out of your reach. And with the few inches Jake had on you, he’d stacked it up there so it would be out of the way. You remembered him saying those exact words as you eyed the package now. Hated those words. 

Because not only was it out of the way, it was out of your reach. Out of your reach when you were dying of thirst and needed a drink of water. Stat.

Without thinking of risking anything, you went to grab a table chair quickly and quietly.

You had to be quiet because Jake was home and you did not want to wake him. Not when you were in cavewoman mode. . . and especially not with the way your tits and ass were flashing in your current choice of clothing. Or with the ugly heart monitor that was attached to your chest.

So, as carefully as possible, you sat the chair next to the side of the fridge with the waters and climbed on top of the seat to grab the case of Pure Life. Briefly, you worried about handling a heavy object while pregnant, but put it to the side when you realized pregnant women all over America handled water cases like this. You were fine. 

In the lapse of time it took you to contemplate holding the waters, and getting it off the counter, you misplaced the package on the counter top. And right as you silently stepped off the chair, the waters came crashing down onto the floor of the kitchen. The harsh sound of plastic smashing against the ground, filled with several heavy bottles of water, seemed to linger in the air around you as you stood there. One foot still on the chair, one off ready to go. 

Not able to change the fact that it crashed onto the ground, you just stood there and stared at the offensive case of water for a moment and cursed it for its loudness. But before you could silently wish harm for too long, you were bending to pick it up. 

Once it had been safely placed back on the counter with careful hands, you glanced towards Jake’s room. No movement or sound from it. He probably hadn’t heard — deep in sleep. 

And then. . . Your pregnant brain was sparking to life. 

There was a fucking Brita in the fridge. Filled to the brim with ice cold water, versus the room temperature water in the case. You’d just filled it this morning before class. And ice cold water sounded so much more appealing than lukewarm. . . 

If only you’d remembered before that you had the filtered water waiting in the pitcher. . . There wouldn’t have been a giant crash to possibly wake your roommate. 

Putting all of the irritation out of your mind, you went to grab a glass quickly from the cabinet, then hastily pried the pitcher from the refrigerator. With nervous hands, you poured until the glass was literally overflowing. 

“Shit!” You whispered at the mess, anxious to be rid of this situation. Tired and thirsty and still feeling warm even in your cami and shorts, your ears rushed with white noise.

This was not ending up like you’d planned.

The pitcher had safely found its spot back in the fridge and you were finally taking a drink from your (overfilled) glass, when you decided to multitask and grab a few paper towels to clean up the counter.

But when they wouldn’t rip off the roll, you yanked too hard. And that resulted in the water you were still drinking, to spill. It dripped down your chin, down your top mostly, and into the top of your shorts. Sensory overload was doing what it did best, overwhelming you—making you lose grip and had the glass falling from your hand and to the ground. 

That shatter was much worse than the water case falling, the shards thankfully large, but the few sparkling pieces of glass had you shushing Stevie away when she approached with curiosity. 

And if Stevie was approaching, then surely someone else had heard—

“Y/n, what’s going on?” Jake hushed, his voice close behind you, sounding like it was coming from the entryway of the kitchen. 

You stilled. Of course he'd woken up. You’d made a fuck ton of noise. Real nice.

You turned on your heel, just the slightest bit, to peek over your shoulder at him. And with the luck you’d already had with the night, the action made you effectively slip from the bit of water that had made its way under your foot. 

Falling, more like—and not using the counter to catch yourself like a sane person—towards the hard ground and glass, bump—baby— first—fuckfuckfu—.

Jake’s arms immediately wrapped around you, effectively stopping your fall. He hugged you tightly to him. One arm wrapped fully around your stomach, hand secured to your side, firmly in place. And the other hand— gripping your breast. . . fully. 

He had you wrapped up in him, ass pulled into his crotch to keep you steady.

And ho-ly fuck.

Your nipple hardened instantly at the feeling of him holding your chest. You’d been waiting to feel his hand hold your sore breasts. . . And your assumption had been correct. His touch eased the pain in them, felt deliciously good—his touch didn’t hurt them like everyone else seemed to do on contact. 

But then he began moving his hands away. 

No.

“I’m sorry— I-I didn’t mean to—.”

“Stay.”

The word just slipped out as you grabbed hold of his hand, keeping it secured where he’d initially placed it, carefully situating his fingers over your nipple for the sensation you longed for. 

And when you did, he squeezed the flesh through your thin shirt. His other hand gripped your hip, exposed just a bit by your shirt – the way his fingers held you there made you fearful that he’d leave marks.

You fucking hoped so. 

And fuck, if he didn’t like it, too. You could feel it against your ass.

The way he continued to massage his other hand on your chest, wrapping his fingers securely around your breast, feeling it, told you so, too. The impulsive urge to pull down the top of your shirt and give him full access was becoming more and more appealing by the second. 

But you didn’t do it. Didn’t want to do too much and scare him away. 

You just let his arm come to rest where he apparently wanted it to, fully over the other breast. He comfortably situated his arm, rubbed a purposeful thumb over your sensitive nipple. 

“Jake,” you whispered. Couldn’t help it. He elicited this feeling. “Please.”

With your words, he pressed his front harder against your ass. God, you could feel the shape of him.

Letting the moment take over, you decided to let your body lean into his, rested against him and pushed your ass purposefully into his hardening dick. The breath he sucked in was not lost on you, and you craved hearing it again, so you repeated the action against him. 

His hand tightened around your breast, and he began massaging it as he used his grip to pull you even closer to him. His thumb moved to rub tight circles around your taut nipple. It felt so good. . . your head fell back against his shoulder, sucking in your own breath between your teeth. The way he gently kneaded the flesh in his strong grip had electricity shooting through your chest, all the way down to your toes. 

Your heart was going crazy, beating frantically, barely letting up with its assault against your chest. The feeling of him against you was enough to make you lose your breath with the way your heart was clenching in your chest, all the way up to your throat.

And then you heard a familiar, faint beeping from your bedroom.

The blessed heart monitor phone. Tracking when your heart rate would increase. The stupid phone didn’t need to tell you that it was beating hard right now. And so what if you fainted? You would do it in Jake’s arms. No better place to be. 

All you knew was that you were elated that it was still in your room – and quiet enough to the average ear that it hopefully didn’t break the air of want between you and this man you wanted so. badly. 

Jake hadn’t heard it - or didn't care to stop if he had, that much seemed to be clear.

He angled his hips, pressing so cozily into your backside. You could feel all of him – moving in slow circles, while still pressed tightly to your ass. That continued on for a while until he nudged himself, right in the middle of your ass. You felt him pulsing. Tucked into you, making your core throb even more for him.

Your nerves were on fire, and when he began rolling his hips, thrusting into your ass. . . you released the tiniest moan. It was such a small sound that you briefly thought you’d imagined it. But then the hand that had been holding your hip came to wrap around your throat briefly, and then up to your mouth. 

His breath came in hot waves against your ear, his voice gravelly with need. “It’s late. We shouldn’t make noise like that. It’s too late.”

After making his point known, his hand moved to sweep some hair over one shoulder, leaving your neck exposed for him to breathe hotly against. . . and then lick. Your breath hitched at the sensation of his wet tongue, making loose circles against your hot, sweating flesh.

“You still taste so good,” he moaned with the words, ever so quietly. “You always will–but it’s like you taste sweeter than before. I can’t even–.

But he never finished what he was saying, choosing instead to press sloppy kisses against your skin. His lips and his tongue, moving together to suck gently. 

Fuck! What had gotten into–?

Your body relaxed into him all on its own, moving near enough to him that you felt like one. 

Your ass ground against him, pressing so close. He kept with his motions as he angled his lips to hover above your bare shoulder, breath hot on your skin.

Though, his kisses stopped. But, he still released puffs of overexerted breaths, over your skin, wet from his mouth. It made your toes curl and your eyes fall closed. He didn’t give your neck any more attention as he used his position to lean up and look over the front of your body, effectively pulling you even closer to him. 

“God,” he breathed, his breath hitting from exposed shoulder, onto your collar bones. Your motions continued, but just a little slower to keep him where he was, not wanting to somehow push him away. You felt him, throbbing steadily against your ass. “You’re soaked.”

You have no idea, you silently, hotly responded, moving to rub your thighs together.

But you remembered your predicament. What he was talking about. Your clothes were completely soaked through. There had been so much water. He was talking about your clothes.

“I spilled my water,” you breathed back, so quiet. 

“I can see that. Y/n– fuck,” he rutted against your ass, his hand moving to the bottom of your full breast to hold it in a steady grip. You realized he was moving his hand to see the entire breast, your straining nipples through the soaked white fabric. “Your tits. . . they’re so fucking– Goddammit.”

“Sore,” you moaned back, your body arching in need against the hardness in his loose pajama pants. “Heavy.”

“God, I’m sor–,” he went to move his hand again. And you once again brought your hand up to stop him. 

“No, Jake,” you held his hand in a tight grip, rubbing your thumb over the back of it. “Feels good.”

“Yeah?” He questioned, raspy and needy. 

Then, he was suddenly letting go of your chest to move your strap to do what you so desperately wanted.

Once it was draped over your shoulder, he moved a hand slowly over your sternum, into the front of your shirt. When he grazed his fingers over your oversensitive nipple, you whined, knees buckling. And, finally, he pulled your breast out to touch the air. 

And just before he could hold it with the hand that was readily going to grasp it. . . his bedroom door was creaking open. 

“Jakey?” Maya’s voice rang through the apartment. “You okay?”

Of course she was here. Why wouldn’t she be? 

You hadn’t heard the tell-tale sign of anyone taking steps towards the kitchen from the slightly creaky hallway, but you still decided you needed to get the fuck away from Jake. He was not yours.

You pulled away harshly and quickly, turning around all as you went to pull up your tank.

When you fully turned around, he was standing stock-still, watching your every move with your top, not letting his eyes fall away from your breasts. Your hard nipples. You felt the blush spread across your entire chest.

Then he bit his lip, your entire body heating at the motion, before he was responding.

You moved forward to hold his cheek, trying to wake him from the daze he was in. Your words barely hit the air, you were so quiet. “Jake, go back to your room. I’ll clean this up so she doesn’t–.”

“I’m good, babe,” he called back to her in a low tone, still honing in on your eyes. Your brows dipped, confused. He looked to the fridge, his hand coming to hold your bicep, keeping you there. Why was he not getting his ass back to his room? “Y/n’s asleep and I really don’t want to wake her,” he lied, eyes still glued to something to your left.

She could walk in and see he was lying! Why was he being so fucking careless? 

“Just go back to bed,” he continued, leaving no room for argument or worry. “I dropped something when I was getting up to get some water.”

“Okay,” she responded, not using the same near-whispering tone as him. “Just don’t be long, baby.”

“I won’t,” he simply said, amber-brown irises, tracing back to yours in the dim lighting of the kitchen, highlighted by the moon, shining in through the kitchen window. Full moon. Anything can happen. 

And what was happening was wrong. 

When you heard his bedroom door click closed and a little squeak from the bed to indicate someone had placed weight on it, you pulled away from him, his arm slowly dropping back to his side. The eyes that stared back at yours had a question behind them, but you didn’t give him time to ask it.

“Jake,” your tone clipped and quiet. You didn’t want to break the ridiculous cover he’d mindlessly created. “Why the fuck did you lie like that?”

“I didn’t want her to come in here,” he cut back, his inflection reflecting the same hot energy as yours. “If she would’ve known we were both in here, she would have come looking. I don’t need that,” he insisted. “And neither do you. Especially with your tits on full fucking display like that.”

You glanced down, after he’d motioned momentarily at your chest. And, his words rang true when you realized your entire fucking nipple and areola was visible through the material. Even in the darkness of night, you could tell as much. Your arms flew up to snugly cover them, flinching at the way it felt like sharp needles were pressing into your chest momentarily.  

When you peered down to where you saw his hand moving, you realized he was palming himself through his pants. You felt yourself release, the slightest bit in your panties.

Your hands tightened closer to your chest, doing the opposite of what you wanted in that moment–you wanted to bring your shirt down over yourself and let him finish on your waiting ches–.

Suddenly the pressure against you was too much and your arms were falling from their place across your breasts. Thus, standing there, on full display. Right fucking there for stupid ass Maya to walk in at any moment. 

Honestly, you were the stupid ass. And it seemed like Jake was, too. 

Maya was the innocent one in all of this.

“Go wait in your room for me,” he whispered heatedly, his words piercing your heart at the anxious energy floating through your veins. “I’ll clean this up. And then I’ll be—.”

“But–,” you brought your arms up to your chest again, covering yourself. It was a brainless move to flash your chest like that. You didn’t want to tempt him in any way. “This is my mess just–.”

“Y/n,” he all but spit in your direction with the harshness in his whisper. “I don’t want you falling and hurting yourself on the water or glass. Please.”

Good point. 

So, you decided you’d do as you were told, though not without the last word.

“Fine,” you practically growled, stepping over water, his hand reaching out to you, trying to balance over a puddle pooled at your feet. You grabbed his hand, one arm covered your heaving chest, as you made your way over the mess, and finished your thought. “But don’t come to my room. Go back to bed. I don’t want Maya to–.”

“I don’t care right now–,” he cut you off, but you didn’t let him continue before interjecting. 

“You will in the morning, Jacob,” you bit back, making fiery eye contact, crossing your arms. The hiss you released at the feeling of both arms covering yourself again was embarrassing. So, you tried to play it off. “You will. Just don’t make the mistake of coming to see me ton–.”

“It wouldn’t be a mist–.”

“Jake. Yes it would,” you insisted with a tense whisper, taking one step towards him, not taking your eyes from his once. “I’m not going to have you ruin what you have with her just to make a fucking mistake with me.”

Throughout the span of that small conversation, you saw his eyes go through every possible wave of emotion. His beautiful, deep set eyes had started wide with excitement, to now being filled with white hot frustration. He was mad. 

The last emotion made its way straight to the pit of your tummy and to your panties as you felt them draw even wetter. Damn. You’d take any sex with Jake right now, but angry sex? Dammit if that didn’t get you–. 

No, y/n. Stop it.

“Do you not want this? Why were you—just minutes ago if you don’t–?”

“I never said I didn’t want it.” You flat-out said, without a second thought. Why even lie when you’d just exposed yourself with whatever you’d just done with him? To him?

The two of you stood there, watching each other with flushed cheeks, hot breaths, and equally heaving chests. 

God, you would not be able to hold onto your momentary flash of integrity if you didn’t finish your thought and leave him. 

“We just can’t do it. It wouldn’t be right,” you sniffed. Shit. Your throat was tightening, eyes collecting tears. “I don’t want to be the reason you leave a woman–the woman you love,” you choked, foolishly, on the emotion that quickly made its way from your throat to your eyes. “I just want you to be happy.”

His own expression matched yours, his eyes pooled with tears of dejection. There were once more a couple moments, filled with silence.

Silence, aside from your deep breathing, and wrought with an energy you couldn’t place. You had to get away from him.

“Just go to bed. I won’t fucking bother you,” he said, swallowing thickly. He then spoke your words from earlier. “And let me clean this up.”

Again, you sniffled, but nodded, looking down, to cover it with a barely there 'goodnight'.

He didn’t say anything else, just went about his business in the kitchen to put things back together, turning his back on you altogether.

Suffice to say, you cried for a good chunk of time as you laid in bed, after changing into a big t-shirt.

Cried big, fat, somber tears.

The crying had even lasted long enough, keeping you up to hear the bed creak much more than necessary when Jake got back to his bedroom. . . The sound of soft, pleasured moans from both of them, accompanying the groans of the bed as they moved on top of it.

Lucky fucking you. 

The bed that used to be yours when that room was yours. . . The acts being made against it that made you want to punch something - someone. Someone with long, black hair and a too-sweet expression.

Like a child, you growled and used a spare pillow to cover your ears until you couldn’t hear anything through the plush filling of the pillow.

You also tried to distract yourself with TikToks, but you couldn’t focus on your feed filled with BabyTok. It just made you sad and wistful as you thought of your day of book shopping with Jake. . .

About 30 minutes later, you figured the coast was clear. It had occurred to you after lying there, doing aimless shit, that you were still very thirsty. . . your tongue felt like cardboard in your mouth. 

When you opened the door to go to the kitchen, though, you found a tumbler that didn’t belong to you, waiting for you. And when you picked it up, you realized exactly who it belonged to. . . the words told you as much. 

Merry Christmas, Jacob Thomas! 

Love you, 

Mom 

The Cricut-vinyl lettering was placed carefully across the front of the black off-brand Yeti. What you found when you looked through the clear lid was a cup full of water. Iced water.

The crying that ensued as you closed the door and placed the cup on your nightstand was no surprise to you. The sweet action made your heart thrum with unbridled admiration for him. 

You hated how things were now. . . how simply interacting with him the way you had was a mistake. When you compared it to the way things had been before the fateful day in the kitchen, it made your stomach sink and your eyes well with more tears. 

Then there had been what you’d heard through the walls. . . it made you want to fucking vomit. But. . .you’d brought it on yourself. No question about it. 

Aaand, more of the damn tears. . .

After taking a few healthy swigs from the cup, you felt sleep find you without warning. Your eyes were beginning to close on their own.

And, as you faded into a well-earned sleep, the only solace you found that night was the smooth bump of your tummy, which your hands held protectively–longingly–as you wandered to sleep.

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: hmmmmm what do you think will follow that night in the kitchen?????

Change the World from Friendsgiving :)

ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts! love youuuu &lt;3

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

Taglist:

@joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssoloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend

@aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @sacredtheslay, @alienobsever, @hollyco, @age0fwagner, @raceb14, @stardustcatcher, @styles-canvas, @ladywhimsymoon, @earthgrlsreasy, @peaceloveunitygvf

@torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98, @mackalah, @lek-gvf, @carlyfleet, @profitofthedune, @mefiorini, @welllauragvf, @highway-tuna, @dont-go-home-without-me, @sarah-gvf01, @polemicandcontent, @ageofbajabule, @texas-bbq-pringles

(i think i figured out the tags limit! woooohoooo!! boo, tumblr. you're not getting me down today lmao)

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake fic #my fics #covet #i am so DAMN excited for what's coming

[youthinluv]

zb1 as songs in my playlists (fluff edition)

pairing ; zb1 x reader genre ; fluff tags + warnings ; fluff, established relationship, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, confessions, non idol! aus, college au, highschool au, cafe au, brother's bestfriend au, petnames and tiny bit of angst in ricky's part if u squint, idk what else author's note ; i may or may not have gotten carried away with hanbin's part a little because too many ideas came while i was writing it so expect a full expansion of the drabble in like. a month or two LMAO 😭 enjoy though!

kim jiwoong — 何なんw - fujii kaze "…Don’t you say you didn’t wanna know it. I love you all the same, all the time. Though I’m here with you through thick and thin. You can’t see me, you ignore me, because I’m too close to you" The sun shone through the curtains hitting your face. Reluctantly, you open your eyes to be greeted with an empty space next to you.

Confused, you get up and walk out of the room and into the living to be met with the wafting smell of pancakes, soft music playing and Jiwoong behind the counters in the kitchen.

As he turns around, he gets caught by surprise seeing you awake. "Oh, good morning. You're awake already?" he asks and you nod as you walk over to the dining table where the food had been spread out.

He pouts at this, "I wanted to wake you up with breakfast in bed, but you got up earlier than I expected."

"Well you can blame the sunlight for that." you giggle, and Jiwoong's face lifts into a smile as he watches you.

"Happy 5th to us, love." he places a soft kiss on your cheek. Smiling, you look up to him and return the greeting. "Happy 5th to us indeed."

Comfortable silence settled afterwards as the song continued playing in the background.

"The regrets that made you learn a lot can be easily forgotten by living everyday life. With a fresh and empty resolve in your heart." the artist sang and you couldn't help internally agree with it, finding peace with the everyday life you've shared with Jiwoong all these years.

——— 

zhang hao — my eyes adored you - fujii kaze cover (original by frankie valli) "My eyes adored you. Though I never laid a hand on you, my eyes adored you. Like a million miles away from me, you couldn't see how I adored you. So close, so close and yet so far." Zhanghao was a good friend in your college department. He was wildly popular depsite being somewhat oblivious to this. And because of that, you've hidden your feelings for him thinking he wouldn't reciprocrate. In other words, he was so close and yet so far from your reach.

What you didn't know was that he reciprocated the feelings as well, and though he had many chasing after him, he had his eyes on you and only you.

And so, when Valentines came around and he was set to perform on stage for the event, he was really keen on having you watch.

On stage, he was searching for you in the midst of the crowd. When you two locked eyes, he smiled. Finally he could make his feelings clear to you and everyone else. Before his performance started, he was given time for a ment and he took advantage of this.

"I'd like to greet everyone a happy Valentines," Zhanghao greeted. "and although I've gotten many confessions today, I'd like to apologize as my heart and eyes are already set on someone else." he continued and you could hear cooing and disappointed sighs amongst the crowd.

You were ready to accept defeat when he finished up his ment. "And so, Y/N L/N, I hope you can accept my feelings for you."

The crowd cheered and the lights dimmed. Your senses blocked out everything and you carefully watched him in disbelief, wondering if this was a prank or not.

However, as he sang and carried out his performance, he stayed true to his words and only had his eyes on you all throughout his time on stage.

——— 

sung hanbin — fallen - lola amour "What if I told you that I've fallen, and I like the way you say my name? My heart skips a beat when I hear you calling and I like that it won't go away." You've become a regular at this small cafe soon after discovering it. Sure, the food and drinks were good, but that's not what you were here for. You carefully watched the barista make the drinks and place your order on the counter. Yeah. The cute barista was your main reason.

"Order for Y/N!" he calls out. The way he said your name always made your heart skip a beat. Hearing it roll of his tongue easily made the rest of your day better, so it didn't take much for you to become a regular.

You quickly stand up to collect your order, smiling at him as you approached the counter. "Thank you, Hanbin."

"Anytime. It's good to see you enjoyed the food." he smiled. As he was about to turn around, you called out for him, unsure of what took over you. "Hey, Hanbin!"

He hummed in response.

"Um... are you free this Saturday? We should hang out, or, something." you can feel your face burning up in embarrassment.

"Ah, yeah, I think I'm free that day. We should totally hang out then!" he replied, knowing he full well that he was—in fact—not free that day and he was willing to drop everything and clear his schedule for you.

"Really? Well, I think we can discuss the details when I swing by again tomorrow—"

"Oh, there's no need for that." he interrupted, writing something on a napkin before either one of you finished. "Here's my number, you can contact me here." he continued, handing you the napkin.

You take it, flustered and unable to say anything else. "I'll see you Saturday, then?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'll just send you a message here." you smile shyly at him.

"Great! It's a date then." he smiles back.

——— 

seok matthew — daydreamin' - ariana grande "It's the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you make me feel inside. It's in your smile, it's in your eyes I don't wanna wait for tonight. So I'm daydreamin' with my chin in the palm of my hands about you. You, and only you." Matthew was your older brother's best friend. He frequented your house, so you saw each other more often than not.

What stuck to you was how he treated you like his other friends, and he was nice about it. He seemed to make you comfortable the most amongst your brother's other friends despite the one year age gap.

Eventually, you developed feelings for him and you tried to hide it as much as possible, especially from your brother of all people.

But is it really your fault if you couldn't help blush whenever Matthew smiled at you, or act all awkward around him all of a sudden?

You also noticed that Matthew started coming around almost every day, and tried interacting with you as much as he could.

One night, your brother plopped next to you after seeing off Matthew. Wasting no time, he looked at you and bluntly said, "You like Matthew, don't you?"

With the way he caught you off guard, you couldn't even cover your face and mask your reaction.

"Please don't tell him!" you desperately plea, and your brother pulls away from you.

"Woah, chill. I won't. Besides, why do you think he's been coming around more often lately?"

——— 

kim taerae — melting - kali uchis "You've got some soft lips and some pearly whites, I wanna touch them in the dead of night. Your smile ignites just like a candlelight. Then somehow, I know everything's alright. Melting like an ice cream when you smile." You couldn't help but stare at Taerae as he laughed at Jiwoong's joke, a small smile forming on your lips as well as you see his dimples.

You couldn't thank the gods any more for making him extra smiley today, it made you feel better as well. You always loved it when Taerae smiled. It was contagious and you found it endearing, especially when you spot his dimples.

The conversation drifted to something else and he eventually caught you staring. "What? Is there something on my face?" he asks, and you giggled at him.

"Mmm, it's nothing, don't worry." you replied. "That doesn't sound very reassuring..." he pouts.

"I promise!" you protest, and his eyebrows furrow at this. "What, so you were just staring at me?"

You pause for a second. "...Maybe."

"Oh." Taerae lets out, the tips of his ear slowly turning red and you put your hands up in fake surrender.

"Sorry, couldn't help it. You know how I always melt like an ice cream when you smile."

His expression morphs into a sheepish smile as you engage in a conversation with the others to play off the situation, glancing at Taerae as he smiles to himself at your compliments.

——— 

shen ricky — for you - leehi ft. crush "Listen to me I am the man that you've been waiting for. Would you push the button that you've been looking for. With just one kiss, you're gonna need it more. Baby, I could give you what you want." Relationship after relationship, you were starting to doubt yourself after all the ones you were in turned out awful. Your self-esteem dropped for a while and you were close to swearing off on getting into relationships and dating.

That was until Ricky came into your life and made everything better for you.

He treated you better than you ever, reassuring and spoiling you as much as he possibly could. Sometimes, it makes you question whether or not you really deserve it.

"Hey, let's go out tomorrow night, my treat." Ricky suggests.

"Again?" your eyebrows furrow at him, "Didn't we already go out last night though?"

He stops in his tracks, slightly confused. "Oh uh, did you not want to...?" he pouts, making you panic.

"No! It's not that, I love spending time with you. It's just that... I'm worried you're doing too much for me."

Ricky looks at you incredulously, scoffing before placing a small kiss on the top of your head. "Baby, nothing's ever too much when it comes to you." he pulls away, booping your nose. "I could give you what you want, and it's what you deserve. Okay?"

He looks at you in a jokingly stern manner, which makes you giggle and nod.

"It's your turn to pick where we're eating tomorrow."

"Huh? Didn't I already pick last time though?"

"Shhhhh...."

——— 

kim gyuvin — say yes - ben & tan "I think my heart is beating me to death. I have got an arrow through my chest. I am so in love, so just say yes." "Y/N, I like you. Please accept my feelings and be mine!" You look at Gyuvin who stood flustered in front of you. Bewildered and surprised that he harbored feelings for you as well.

After giving it some thought, you smile at him. "Okay, I'll give you a chance on one condition." He nods, willing to do anything.

"I'll let you pursue me first. Then, I'll give you my final answer."

And so, weeks after that he's put in the effort to treat you the best he could, as if you two were already in a real relationship.

Gyuvin took you on dates, walked you home, gave you gifts and constantly looked out for you. He also took note of what you liked and disliked, bought things that reminded him of you, and acted like your actual boyfriend as a whole.

You found it endearing to see how much effort he was willing to put in, even though it was no guarantee on his part. In short, he was willing to do anything and everything for you, even if you didn't ask him to, and would do so without asking for anything in return.

To be fair, even if you liked him back, you wanted to test the waters with him first to make sure you were going to make the right choice.

And so, one day as you were walking home, you finally decide to give him an answer.

"Gyuvin... I feel like it's best if you should stop pursuing me." You start, feeling a little bad at how his face dropped.

"W—what? Why?" he stutters, quickly trying to calm himself.

"Why would you still pursue me if you're already my boyfriend?" You continue, putting a hand on your hip as a smile slowly formed on your lips, watching him figure out what you meant.

"Wait so... thats a yes?" Gyuvin sounded surprised and you smiled. "Mhm! It's a yes! I'll be yours."

You let out a yelp as he lifts and spins you around, and you two were giggling fits all the way home.

——— 

park gunwook — peaches - kai "Pretty girl, you're likе peaches. It's a soft embracе. A sweetness that spreads in my mouth. Feels good to be the bad guy" Park Gunwook always kept to himself. Despite his achievements in the debate club, dance club and as a member of his school's student council, he wasn't very popular due to his 'intimidating look' and he was fully aware of this. Not that he minded, of course.

When a new student was enrolled, he was assigned to show them around. He made sure he'd make them feel welcomed in hopes he wouldn't scare them off.

"Gunwook, the new student is here." A faculty member called out and he stepped inside the room to be met with them.

"Oh! Hello, I'm Y/N L/N. It's nice to meet you, I hope we can get along well. Please take care of me!" you bowed whilst introducing yourself.

"It's nice to meet you as well, Y/N. I'm Gunwook. Please, no need to be so formal and tense around me. We're in the same grade, after all."

You nodded and the school tour started. To Gunwook's surprise, you got along well with him and showed no signs of being intimidated of him. It was quite refreshing for him to be able to talk to a peer without them feeling like they were constantly walking on eggshells around him.

Eventually, days turned into weeks, which turned into months and you two became close friends.

"You know, I'm kinda glad you never found me intimidating." he starts as you two sat at lunch.

"Hm? What do you mean?" you shoot him a confused look and he continues. "People don't normally approach me because they think I'm scary."

This time, you look at him, baffled. "You? Scary? Really? I never really got that from you...."

He bursts out laughing and the topic quickly dies down. While you both sat at lunch in silence, he couldn't help but admire your features.

Gunwook always noticed how you had soft features, which was a stark contrast to his. He then realized why some people are surprised to see you two together.

"Have I ever told you how pretty you are?" Gunwook breaks the silence and you stop midway of a bite. "H-Huh?"

"You're really pretty." he repeats, making you even more flustered.

As the teasing continues, Gunwook silently wishes that things would change for the better. To him, your presence always felt like a soft embrace.

——— 

han yujin — can't stop - stray kids (seungmin, i.n) "I think I like you. Even I can tell when I look at myself. It is to the point that it is too obvious. I must want you so much no matter whatever I do, I can't escape it. I must like you a lot" The sun was setting, and after a long day out with friends, you and Yujin were left alone.

You two watched the sunset on a building's rooftop in silence—save for some music playing—and Yujin turns to look at you.

He couldn't help but admire how the sun shone on your skin, dying it an orange tone and how the light hit your eyes at a perfect angle, making them more beautiful than he ever thought.

He admired how the wind blew through your hair and the light made it look a shade lighter than it actually was.

"You're staring." you break the silence. He blushes and looks away. "I'm sorry."

Yujin had been in denial for the longest time now. He didn't want to admit that he harbored feelings for you, even to himself.

But despite that, it's become painfully obvious to his circle of friends. Even he can tell when he looks at himself. It's to the point that it is too obvious

"Is something on your mind?" you ask, and he turns to face you again.

'Your eyes probably have seen it all. Why did I pretend I didn't like you? Just the way they are, I'll express my feelings to you'. He thought to himself, taking a deep breath.

"I think I like you." Yujin blurts out. He carefully watches for your reaction as your expression seems to morph into a pleasantly surprised one. A smile instantly blossomed on your lips. "Really?"

"Yeah..." he looks embarrassed and you couldn't help laugh but at this. "Don't worry, I like you too." you reply.

You two fall into silence, staring at each other as the song playing comes to an end. "I (I) can't (can't) stop (stop) falling in love with you!"

#zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #zb1 scenarios #jiwoong x reader #kim jiwoong x reader #kim jiwoong scenarios #zhanghao x reader #zhang hao imagines #hanbin x reader #sung hanbin x reader #sung hanbin scenarios #matthew x reader #seok matthew x reader #matthew imagines #taerae x reader #kim taerae x reader #taerae imagines #ricky x reader #shen ricky x reader #ricky imagines #gyuvin x reader #kim gyuvin x reader #gyuvin imagines #gunwook x reader #park gunwook x reader #gunwook imagines #han yujin x reader #han yujin imagines #youthinluv

[g-xix]

We need a chippo crimes dating headcanons! 🥰

TheBurntChip Dating Headcanons

Yes you can have some Chipper dating HC's!! Bro is TOO FINE. Also, REQUESTS OPEN, REQUEST WHAT MORE U WANNA SEE ME WRITE!!!

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

-I feel like dating Chippo would be such a roles reversed relationship -Like, he sort of takes the wifey responsibilities whilst you focus on the convential 9-5 job, smth heavy duty like law asw -He finishes his podcast/stuff and makes steaks on Tuesdays, but otherwise throws smth in the oven or gets you takeout with him before coming home -In love with his own steaks -Mf would litr be moaning at the table about how good his steaks are whilst u two eat together -Always wants to eat with you as well -If the two of you are long distance, i.e. you had to go overseas to work, he'd fuck up his sleep schedule just to facetime you and eat dinner (or breakfast) with you on call with him -Also tho he does book holidays for j you (sometimes with your friends asw) because you rarely manage to get down time from work + he knows getting a break is so therapeutic for you -Often go on holidays together to places too tho #baecation -Your favourite is when you went to Dubai together, because he decided to vlog "Giving my girlfriend her dream holiday", where he paid for your shopping, had your nails done, and took you to quadbike for the first time -Obviously then the next day he took you to the golf course so that he could have a full day of golfing to repay for the time spent "doing that boring spa shit" -He complains about spas and self-care things on the camera and to his mates -Secretly it's his little guilty pleasure to do the occasional facemask with you every so often -First time it happened he was drunk and showed you a TikTok of some guy getting his face fully masked, treated and rolled, and Chippo had the audacity to ask "Why don't you do that to me :(" With a sad little face. -His sad little face ofc made you get out all your products and lay him down on the bed to get his face done -Decided to film it for a TikTok -Started with a sheet-mask which he slurred that it looked like he was joining a cult�� -Also had to get a hand mirror so he could constantly see himself bc he insisted on knowing what he looked like constantly -Used the quartz roller to roll the mask over which smoothed it out really aesthetically -Managed to convince him to pluck the stray hairs of his brows -He made a big fuss over the first pluck and said you were going to kill him with those things -You've not been allowed to touch his brows since. -Finished by putting some cooling and hydrating gel all over his face, which he babbled Felt like getting a facial, before continuously asking you whether that's what cum feels like, making you flush bright red as you wrapped up the video and made it into a TikTok -Next morning, Chip looks in mirror and wonders why his face looks so nice and nourished already -Sees the TikTok and is horrified at how he acted and what all he said -Shows you the video and cries WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO MY FACE!?! -Troops groupchat post the video in chat and are commenting allsorts of woooow, Chippo soft launch, Chippy's slaying 😜, one of the girlies 💅 -Chip got over it though. -Acts all unhappy about what you've renamed the skincare incident, but whenever you put a sheet mask on whilst watching a movie, he asks for one as well -He's had compliments that he's been glowing, whenever he does the sheet masks anyways, so he figured there was no harm in just putting one of those on

NSFW HC's: -Deffo an ass guy -Doggy's the favourite position because he loves seeing it shake + hearing the clap 👏 -I feel like he'd be into thick girlies asw, like, he doesn't care if you have tummy or stretch marks, he's just obsessed with the package behind that (one for my thick girlies bc i need more appreciation in lyfe) -Probs has a shared playlist which he sent with the message yo put songs into this playlist u wanna have sex to -Loves when you hickey him up -Absolutely loves going into the shoot, hickeys standing out bright purple on his neck. Wears them like a badge of honour basically -Isn't toxic or protective over what you wear either -Wraps his arm around you regardless of what you're wearing because at the end of the day he knows he's gonna be the one to take them off -I feel like he's a fan of face sitting asw -He was first to suggest it which was a bit scary because you felt as though he was just speaking spontaneously/impulsively and didn't actually know what he wanted -Was quite insistent on trying it- litr begged at one point which made u give it a try -Kinda cautiously hovering over his face, not sitting bc you j wanted to triple check "are you sure?" -He answered by wrapping his arms around your thighs n pulling you down + onto his tongue -Loves you pulling on his hair asw -Arching back, fingers knotting his hair + pulling him as you moan n grind down onto his tongue -Bro would get absolutely pussy drunk too -His arms are hooked around your thighs and basically clamping you down -Literally still eating you out whilst you're climaxing -Will not stop until you tell him to, he is perfectly happy just being down there and at your disposal -More of a giver than receiver in terms of oral -Has said on the podcast "I don't know what to do when I'm getting head! Do I put my hands on their head- but what if I accidentally hurt them?! And what noises do you even make, because I am NOT letting out a moan-" -He does moan in the bedroom. -Is always saying "Oh my God" or something else when he's bottoming out inside you -Doesn't rly talk much during sex tho -Jokingly degrades you whilst you're not having sex (Like calling you a degrading name just for jokes when the two of you are doing something) but leans more towards praise whilst actually having sex

Your songs + stories behind them: -City of Angel, 24kGoldn - Your lockdown spent with Chip consisted of doing everything with this song in the background. Just hearing it when it crops up in the 1000+ song playlist when you're on the road reminds you of the waterballoon fight in the kitchen, the TikTok challenges you'd film, and when Chip tried to cook something other than steaks every Thursday -Would I Lie To You? Charles & Eddie - There was a period of time where you were questioning whether Chip was cheating on you because of the way you knew he was lying when he said he was at the Fella's Studios after some stupid times like eight o'clock. Turns out he was organising your birthday celebration, and you felt stupid for even letting the thought cross your mind that Chip would be disloyal… You heard this song at the party and added it to the liked songs because of how much it resonated with your thinking earlier. -Bassline Junkie, Dizzee Rascal - highlight of your year is going to rave with all your mates (Harry, Mia, Will, Megan, Theo n the lot). First year you went you herd this song and you and Chip literally like unlocked a different version of you two. You'd never seen Chip looking so feral and Chip had never seen you so passionate over a song… Which might have had something to do with the bag Harry was passing around 😳

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Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!

To see more, here's my MASTERLIST

And here's my WATTPAD, with 50+ more oneshots to read

#theburntchip #theburntchip x reader #josh larkin #josh larkin x reader #x reader #chip #chippo crimes #calfreezy #callux #sidemen #youtube #fluff #oneshot #youtuber #requests open #harry lewis #ksi #headcanon #headcanons #headcannons #theburntchip headcannons #imagine #preference #tobjizzle #behzinga #miniminter

[annasinterests]

don't look at me like that unless you mean it

loneliness will blind you ♫ in between the wrong and the right

|| series masterlist || main masterlist ||

a/n: omg heyyy first chapter!!! also thank you to everyone that's dropped a note on my works so far because i didn't expect to get any so muah!!!! also, joel is in this chapter BUT it's very ellie&reader heavy because.. well you'll find out why. this was actually the first idea i started with when writing this piece back in like, january-february?? so i think it's marinated enough in my brain. also my mommy issues kinda shone thru with this one srry but love u all <3 oh and one more thing- i didn't name drop the song referenced at the beginning of this chapter but it's girl from the north country but bob dylan and johnny cash - it will be hyperlinked to the playlist :)

word count: 3.1k

pairings: joel miller x f!reader, ellie williams x reader (mother/daughter dynamic if u will)

warnings & tags: minors dni, swearing, canon events & divergence, consequences of salt lake city, angst (happy ending don't u fret), pining if u squint, implications of suicide, homophobia, themes of betrayal/grief — please tell me if i missed anything!

Here you were, slumped against the doorframe with a cup in hand, in the community center of Jackson's annual Christmas party.

Your least favorite holiday of the year.

Lights had been strung across the room, softly illuminating the space and creating a cozy atmosphere. Several white-clothed tables lined up against the walls with a large selection of food and drinks, although lacking in the alcohol department. Groups were scattered around, some bigger than others, some only caring for the company of a special individual. Everywhere you looked, it looked like everybody had somebody. Except for you, of course.

You drew your gaze down to your cup, swirling the last bit of red liquid at the bottom. You watched it slush around until it settled, then repeating the motion again. Maybe another cup wouldn't hurt..

When a familiar guitar strumming played over the speakers, you lifted your head in slight surprise at the tune, a slight smile tugging at the corner of your lips. A fondness bloomed in your chest at the sound of it.

You noticed that conversations had died down as people gathered in the middle to dance with their partners, holding each other intimately and swaying from side to side. Through the sea of people, you spotted the only other person by themselves at the function.

Joel.

He'd already been looking at you when you found him, shifting a bit once your eyes met. Across the room, you raised your cup to him with a sheepish smile, which he returned with a simple nod before looking away. He held a brown bottle in hand and stationed himself in a doorway, and you let out a pitiful chuckle at your similarities. Your eyes lingered on him for a moment longer before moving on.

Despite being together for nearly two decades and finally settling into a domestic lifestyle in Jackson, you distanced yourselves like this.

Your gaze drifted to Ellie and Dina. They were in each other's arms, and even from how far you stood, you swore you could see a blush on Ellie's cheeks. It was safe to say that they were enjoying themselves, completely immersed in each other's company. You let your head rest against the frame as you watched them in their candid moment, exchanging shy smiles and small talk.

You dropped your eyes back to your cup when they shared a kiss. Not out of disapproval– but to afford them the privacy of their precious moment. It was the most you could do given where you were. You didn't look up until you heard the sound of Seth's voice.

"Hey!" He called whilst approaching them. "This is a family event."

You narrowed your eyes and straightened up as he stepped closer to the girls. The fuck is his problem?

The scowl on Seth's face gnawed at your patience. You noticed the change in Ellie and Dina's demeanors. Ellie recoiled out of embarrassment while Dina waved off a half-assed apology with a look of annoyance as Seth lingered.

"Remember next time there's kids around."

Dina didn't take kindly to his instigation, nor did you. Yet, you expected nothing less from an old, entitled white man like him to create such needless strife. An anger bubbled at his irrational hostility towards them. Dina rolled her eyes while walking away with Ellie in hand, "Yeah, like you're setting such a great example!"

Seth scoffed loudly, "Oh! Just what this town needs, another loud-mouthed dyke."

Your mouth gaped then snapped shut. Without even realizing, your feet began to walk towards the three.

The two stopped in their tracks, exchanging incredulous looks. Ellie spun towards Seth, pushing Dina by hand, who attempted to block her. "What the fuck did you just say?" she pointed her finger at him and raised her voice.

By now, everyone had been staring. Those who had been swaying with their partners now stood stagnant with them in their arms, and those on the outskirts cut their conversations short. They all turned their attention to the commotion to the middle of the room.

"Hey!" You commanded as you attempted to intervene. Simultaneously, Joel placed himself between the girls and Seth as Dina pleaded with Ellie to de-escalate the situation, shoving him backwards with a low and demanding tone of get the hell out of here.

The men exchanged bitter looks before Maria got between them, essentially ending the entire ordeal and pushing Seth off elsewhere with Tommy. If it weren't for her, Seth was about to fuck around and find out the hard way. Once he was out of sight, Joel turned after Ellie who'd been going back to Dina, "You alright, kid-"

"What is wrong with you?"

The sudden frustration towards Joel took you by slight surprise. Faint lines etched themselves between your eyebrows as you listened.

"He had no right-"

"And you do?" Ellie's irritation now clearly focused on Joel. His intentions were only rooted in care and concern, yet further fueled her anger.

He stepped up for you, and that's your thank you?

Your eyes darted between them, the angry glower on your face deepening, and your mouth opened to interject when she spoke again with a particular defiance.

"I don't need your fucking help, Joel."

"That's enough!" You ordered, your voice rigid and harsh. Both Joel and Ellie winced at the sudden scold. "Let’s go– We're leaving."

Your eyes were sharp, eyebrows still knitted together, and your lips formed a thin line. You tried to control your breathing, but from how quiet the room became, you were sure that the angry breaths leaving your nose could be heard even from the deepest corners. You maintained your sternness while pointing your finger in the direction for her to walk.

"Now."

Ellie's anger faltered, a mixture of shame and chagrin taking the place of it. She hesitated with her actions, stealing a glance at Joel before turning her shoulder to Dina. She looked at you once more before dropping her eyes to the floor, hanging her head on the way out.

You caught a glimpse of Dina before following behind Ellie. Her arms had been crossed with hands rubbing nervously at them while looking at the floor like she was really taking in each fiber of wood that made up the ground beneath her feet. She chewed at the corner of her lip and didn't make eye contact with you.

Ellie had been leaning against the wall outside the community center, arms folded tightly over her chest. She didn't look up at the sound of your footsteps as you led the way, but reluctantly followed you until you reached the end of Rancher Street.

You closed the door after her and rounded the corner to the living room, bracing yourself along the back of the couch with your other hand placed on your waist. God, how you felt like such a mother right now. Ellie stood near the fireplace, back turned to you with a picture frame in her hand. She brushed her thumb over it before placing it down. For a few minutes, you stood in silence.

She wasn't the same the first time coming back to Jackson over four years ago. Sure, there were moments where you caught notes of her old self, where her habits and overly-talkative tendencies would resurface and fill the air with her infectious energy. You'd find yourselves engrossed in playful banter, exchanging remarks that carried a familiarity only time and shared experiences could forge. There were even times where you'd break out in spontaneous song and dance in the living room, where you'd revel in the sound of her unfeigned laughter at your theatrics, especially during your renditions of Islands in the Stream by Dolly Parton and Kenny Loggins. They had been like shards of sunlight breaking through the clouds.

Most of the time, though, it seemed like she was living in an entirely different world. She'd space out in the middle of conversations with either you or Joel, offering tiredness or other distractions as feeble excuses, but you never bought it, and you knew that Joel didn't either. She was too keen for such lapses; from the both of you, she learned the art of quick thinking and reading people. And while those skills were a blessing, they proved to be a curse for you and Joel in more recent times. Over several months, she'd ask from time to time about Salt Lake City, what happened, and why you three had returned to Jackson. Each time, you told her the same thing as the first time; they no longer needed her.

Partially, it was true. They didn't need her because the cure was a lie. You and Joel had called it way before you got attached to her, back when she was just another job to get done.

You knew she didn't believe it, though. She had created her own theories in her head, persistently seeking the slightest discrepancy in your stories, which never occurred. In a final effort to get answers, she ditched Jackson in the middle of the night to go back to that cursed hospital, leaving a note on the kitchen table and a pit in your stomach. You couldn’t have said that you were surprised that she’d gone to extreme measures, but you just never imagined it.

Two agonizing days had passed before they returned. The hardest part wasn’t that you couldn’t eat or sleep, but that you had to keep all of it to yourself. Wondering if they were safe, making up excuses for their absences, pretending that you were okay when the reality was that they were hundreds of miles away from you with no way of knowing anything.

On the second night, you’d been dozing off on the couch after crying your eyes out for the better part of the evening as your anxiety kicked up. You had barely heard the creak of the front door and the sound of Joel’s heavy footsteps, only the feeling of the dip of the cushions and a warm hand gently squeezing your calf. When your tired eyes met his, you were just able to tell that something unfortunate unfolded. He’d looked so worn down, his eyes sad and shoulders slouched in defeat. In few words, he affirmed that Ellie had come back to Jackson, but only on the condition that she had gotten the truth first.

She hadn't come home for the rest of that week, or the week after. She'd only make fleeting stops in your absence to grab clothes or other belongings. Joel took it hard, as expected. You did your best to reassure him that you both had done the right thing, and deep down you knew that he knew that, but it tore him apart regardless.

When she did start to come around the house again, she didn’t as much as look in your direction. She’d ignore your attempts at small conversations and brush off Joel when he’d suggest something aligned with her interests. And though she never brought it up, you knew the damage had been done.

Two years later, you still felt the impact as if it were mere days past.

Hell, this conversation had been coming for a long time. You had tried to protect her, but in doing so, also eroded the trust that bounded you together as family. As you watched her, you felt only what a mother could experience. You were angry– how could she not see what you did was for her? That it was grounded in love and the pursuit of what was right by her? Yet, interwoven with that was profound grief, an indescribable ache that settled deep in your heart as you mourned the days that only furthered the distance and strain. Silently, you begged her to not let you go, because how could you? But above all, you felt love; a commitment to her, even when she wanted nothing to do with you. You’d still be there, just in case she did.

"When is it going to stop?" You blurted, the weight of the question heavy in the air. She quirked a brow, but lacked an answer, compelling you to continue.

"It's been two years..” Your voice trailed as you struggled to find the right words to go about this. “We tried to give you your space– Stay out of your way, but enough is enough, Ellie." You threw an exasperated hand up, "So, when is this— Pushing us away, acting like we’re strangers— Going to stop?"

She shook her head dismissively, "You lied to me for two years, and you think that I'm supposed to be okay with that?" She raised and pointed her finger towards you and then at herself, "You took away my choice. My purpose. A fucking chance at making a cure!”

"There was no cure." The words fell flat.

Ellie scorned, "Right, right.. Am I supposed to believe that? Take your word for it?" She cocked her head at you.

Your voice became cautious. "Ellie, the risk wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth y-"

"How would you know it wasn't worth it, huh? You and Joel think that you can just go ahead and decide my fate for me, is that it?" she spat. "My life would've fucking mattered!"

You let a frustrated breath out of your nose and looked down at your feet, trying to compose yourself.

"It's fucked up. You fucked up. And you know it."

You snapped your head up.

"What I know is that I live with that decision every goddamn day, and never once do I think that I made the wrong choice." You pointed at her, "What you seem to be fundamentally misunderstanding here is that the Fireflies were never going to give you a choice!" She scoffed and turned away, but you pressed on, taking steps towards her.

"There were no guarantees! And what– you wanted us to let you die for some pipe dream? To let those people sacrifice you without thinking twice?" You gestured emphatically, as if physically illustrating the weight of your words. "And you know what, Ellie? Now, I can't help but think that you wanted to die in that hospital!"

A shaky hand reaching up to wipe her eyes indicated that you had struck a nerve. You wanted to shake her by the shoulders to get it through her thick skull that her life did matter, that giving in to survivor's guilt wasn't how her story was supposed to end. In a determined rush, you stormed into the laundry room and back, fetching out an old letter from her bag that'd been rarely shared with you.

"What about this, huh?” Your voice trembled as you held it up, forcing her attention back to you, “Remember what she wrote!"

Her eyes widened and softened upon the paper, tears still streaming down her cheeks. You presented a tangible piece of her mother’s love, a letter that’d been so well-loved for all of Ellie’s life.

“What about when she said that life is worth living?” a prickling sensation spread to your nose and eyes, “To find your purpose and fight for it–”

Ellie's knees buckled into the couch, and you instinctively moved to catch her, enveloping her before she could hit the cushions. She wept uncontrollably, garbling out words you couldn't put together. A lump quickly formed in your throat and threatened to spill out, but you pushed it down as your tears flowed. You caressed her head and rocked her in your arms. You were so focused on calming her that you were unaware of her arms around you until she tightened her grip and nudged her head farther into your shoulder.

"I just-" she sobbed, "I don't– I don't want it to be for nothing–" Her breath hitched with hiccups. "I wanted to make a difference."

Oh, how you understood.

"And not knowing if I'll ever be able to..” she whispered, “it makes me grieve over and over agai–” she pressed herself into your chest and you gently hushed her, knowing what she meant without even having to say it. She wanted to make up for all the losses gained along the way, to give people a chance in this world, and even though you disagreed on the cure, you couldn’t fault her for having a heart. She withdrew from the embrace to face you properly.

"I understand why you and Joel.." Her reference clear on you, "I just don't know if I can let go of the what-ifs, but I don't want to lose the people I care about because of that either."

“Oh, Ellie,” You took her face into your hands, wiping her tears with your thumbs, "we aren't going anywhere, no matter how hard you may try to push us away, you know that?”

A weak smile formed on her face, as did one on yours. She leaned in towards your touch.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner.. But just so you know,” her eyes peered up at you, “I would’ve done it again, because you are worth fighting for.” Your words filled with conviction. “And I’ll keep fighting, even if it means facing your resentment for the rest of my life, because at least it means that you’re still alive.”

Ellie reached up and curled her fingers around your wrists, not necessarily holding you there nor prying your hands away. She took deep breaths in and out. Her tears finally subsided but her skin still held the blotchy redness around her cheeks, nose, and eyes. You noticed that when she cried hard, her top lip became puffy and matched the fullness of the bottom, just like yours. You felt a tenderness in your heart. She may not be yours, but how sweet it is to share traits with someone who feels like they are. She moved her hands to carefully hold yours.

"I don't know how to let go of all of it right away, but I want to try." Her voice dipped to just above a whisper, but her sincerity was still evident, "I want us to be a family again."

You felt a flicker of hope, a possibility that you could move forward.

"Then we will be."

She threw her arms around you and squeezed tighter than before. As if you hadn’t shed enough already, more tears fell as you reminisced about your time together since she’d come into your life. Watching her grow over the years was like a tender symphony, seeing her blossom into a soul so uniquely her own as you guided her through triumphs and tribulations. You marveled at her unwavering resilience through everything, even now; she possessed such a delicate balance of lightness and strength.

This was your Ellie, the very essence of her etched in your heart, and oh, how you missed her dearly.

if u couldn't tell, i'm 1000% a joel apologist and no i will not be taking questions at this time 😌 y'all have a lovely day <3

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #ellie williams #tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #annasmasterlist #annawrites

[miss-atena]

Hello, person whom i may or may not share a home with, it is i, simply the most guy of guys, i would like to request a simple oc (u know who) x Rook Hunt, where, possibly, Rook finds out that he has been the muse of a certain someone, if u cant or dont want to write thats ok too, drinks lots of water btw xoxo

--ur best bud ¬u¬

Ehehehe KrisRook content my beloved òwó I got u covered bro (btw sorry i wrote Kris name wrong on the other post, i forgro to change it, i'll do it after i post this teehee)

Rook Hunt x Kristoffer Hartdagger - aMUSEing

Normally the Arts and Crafts club is a silent place, with only some ambient songs from the club's collab playlist as a company to the artists all in their zone. Today started no different, the club president presenting them today with a simple mindless doodle session before them getting into the more ellaborate club activities. Kris stayed very much in his zone as always, being the softspoken and shy boy he is. on his normal seat, with a sketchbook and some colored lead eraseable pencils, he doodled. Except everyone around noticed how he would sigh and stare at his doodles. The truth is, for a while Hartdagger had been in love. He just never opened up with anyone but his bestfriend Moira about it. "Ah~Monsieur Spotted, I see you're on art duties. Beuté!" "AHHH!" Kris was close to throwing the sketchbook up in the air in fear from the oh so common voice he grew to love. Rook Hunt seemed to be observind the club... again. "ROOK! GO AWAY! SHOO SHOO!" The club leader tried shooing the man away, but to no avail. he made his seat next to Kris, looking politely at the club president. "Ah, monsieur artiste, I can guarantee I will behave according club rules during my stay, you have not to worry!" "I-I... Sir, I can keep an eye on him... I-if you want it, that is,, i'm not forcing it in aniway i'm sorry if i seem like-" "Keep him from touching anything and it's all good Kris, if he gives you trouble i'll just call the headmage." "Right. Okay. sorry..." during the small conversation, Kris failed to observe Rook's head getting closer and closer to his space, until he could quite literally feel the brim of his hat touch his forehead. "My, my... I knew you liked to draw people, Monsieur Spotted, but never thought i would be a form of inspiration for you. Such magnificence, so much attention to the details." "Eep! You were... you... were staring at my doodles?!" Kris hugged the book to his chest "don't mind it! really!" "Why, it is a beautiful! If you ever are in need of a muse, I will be happy to provide! La chasseur d'amour will always provide the inspirations to seek the beauty in all!" While others only groaned, Kriss mumbled something under his breath. It seemed almost unaudible, but to a pair of trained hunter's ears, it was as clear as day: "you already are my muse" Rook kept his composure, but of course, the hunter had the affirmation of the prey, and now he is ready to get it for himself. "Perhaps you would enjoy a posing session later on Pomefiore?" Kris stared at Rook, face already flushes since the moment Rook invaded the boy's personal space, but he didn't have in him to deny, so he slowly nodded. Rook was going to say something, when he heard the common call of Vil for his Vice Housewarden's aid. Rook smiled sweetly before stooding up "It seems Roi du Poison is in need of my hunting skills, but fret not, for I'll come back at when the meeting ends! Trés Bien!" As soon as Rook left, and everyoned seemed more at ease, the president went to Kris "Hey... Thanks for the help but..." "Yes, sir?" "Do you know how does he know when the meetings end when we have it end in different times each day?" Rook Hunt things, were all everyone could assume.

Hope u like it! I never wrote Rook and I saw almost nothing of him yet so I'm getting used to him still!

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #thanks for the request! #twst wonderland #twst fanfic #twst rook #rook hunt #rook hunt x oc #Rook hunt x Kristoffer Hartdagger #anon ask #tena writing

[gallawitchxx]

get to know bee 🐝

so many lovely pals have tagged me in so many lovely things, so if you've been dying to know more about me (you are, right?) - this post is for you! 😂😌🥳

- - - - -

first up, this picrew!

tagged by @whatthebodygraspsnot & @heymrspatel 🖤

she's giving lgbtqia+ rights are the smart & sexy choice ✨🌈

- - - - -

next, it's tag game tuesday!

tagged by @celestialmickey @energievie @thepupperino & @creepkinginc 🥳

name: bee 🐝

age: the big three-zero for just a few more days 🎂

how many hours of sleep did you get last night? enough, i think! 💤

which do you use more: tumblr mobile or desktop? it depends what i'm doing! i like posting from desktop & scrolling on mobile 😌

a hobby you’d like to pick up: oooh, i'd really like to do some paint by numbers 🎨

if you were a crayon, what color would you be? sea foam green 🌊

what was your average screen time last week? hehehe it went up.... like 5+ hours? 📲

a song you put on every playlist: "silk chiffon" by MUNA because that is my gay ass right 🌈

favorite holiday: i don't think i really have one anymore tbh 🤷‍♀️

something on your bucket list: go to bali 🌴

you’re invited to a costume party, what are you dressing up as? reese witherspoon as elle woods as a playboy bunny 💗

what show takes up the most space in your brain? i mean.... shamey wamey probs! also love island my chaotic beloved ☀️

and finally, share something you’re looking forward to: hugging my friends 😭 i'm so touch-starved 😭 also i'm seeing john williams conduct a night of his film scores with the LA Phil this weekend & i am freaking stooooked 🤘🏼

- - - - -

lastly, here are 15 questions!

tagged by @gardenerian @squidyyy23 @transmickey @milkmaidovich @celestialmickey @such-a-barbarian @heymrspatel @look-i-love-u @palepinkgoat @creepkinginc @harrowhark-a-vagrant @rereadanon & @thepupperino 🖤

Were you named after anyone? nope, not that i know of!

When was the last time you cried? definitely two days ago, but maybe again today because it's cancer season & i loooove to weep 😭

Do you have kids? noooo & neverrrrrrr

Do you use sarcasm a lot? noooo & neverrrrrr (meaning yes & always)

What's the first thing you notice about people? probably their vibe. what a queer answer lmaoooo!

What’s your eye color? i'm a brown eyed girl, eat your heart out van morrison.

Scary movies or happy endings? happy endings all day!

Any special talents? i have a very strong inner compass & can navigate places i've never been in before with relative ease! this is a really handy talent tbh!

Where were you born? northern california bayybeee

What are your hobbies? writing, reading, playing with my pup, pal'ing around with my buds, going to the movies, swimming in the pool, being stupid!

Have any pets? yes, a small dream dog named gus

What sports do you play/have you played? basketball & taekwondo

How tall are you? 5'5"

Favorite subject in school? english lit, drama & french

Dream job? i do not dream of labor, but i also kind of have my dream job - i'm a writer! & i'm so grateful!

- - - - -

i'm not going to tag anyone because i feel y'all have already done these! but if you want to do any of them, please tag me! i love you all! xx

#thanks everyone for tagging me! #i loved reading all of your answers 🥳 #tagged #tag game tuesday #about bee 🐝

[blueaetherr]

ok, i loved your writing havertz x reader! singer and wanted a sequel (part 2)!

well, u could write a moment where the chelsea boys listen to some reader music along with havertz, as you mentioned.

[sorry if i got any wrong words, english is not my first language </3]

titled

pairings: kai havertz x fem!singer!reader [she/her]

warning(s): none

summary: the one where kai and his teammates vibe to his girlfriend's new single

a/n: part two to this; thank you anon for the request, and it was perfectly fine. i hope you enjoy this one!

A match ending in a win had the boys in high spirits entering the changing rooms. Vibrant smiles everywhere, exchanging handshakes and hugs, vibes far too high to fall low again, chosen beats switching the mood every few minutes. There was something satisfying about winning a rather difficult game; the rest—everything that followed after—was all too rewarding to want to let go of.

Though, the chosen beats really did switch up the mood every few moments. Old school Drake faded out with a slow and calming singer replacing him for the next few minutes. They heard her voice—Y/N's voice—and everyone went apeshit crazy. All eyes soon fell on Kai, his teammates calling his name, phones already out to record him. 

"Oh, here we go again," Mason rolled his eyes, breaking out into a smile. "Another one for Kai, of course." It was common fact that Kai was a heavy subject in Y/N's music and that left no room for the player to even avoid his teammates' teases. Y/N didn't consume the whole of the team's shared playlist, but she did to be heard more than enough throughout the day. 

Kai laughed, taking off his jersey. "You guys always to have to be so obvious with it?" He would never hear the end of it from his teammates; they loved to tease him about it, some more than others. The mention, sound or hint of Y/N from anyone, and all glances would fall upon the player. He simply couldn't, and would never, escape his teammates.

"There's so many about Lover Boy that's he's gotten used to it!" Timo said, and he was right. There were more songs about Kai than he could count on his fingers. He was simply the nature, focus and soul of Y/N's music discussions, and there was no shame to it. Not everyone could say that they inspired a song, let alone a whole album. 

And Y/N wrote about so much more than just she and Kai, of course; she could carry variety and sophistication with ease. Though she, Kai—the two as individuals—and the relationship was constantly changing. Evolving moods, stages, their ways to communicate with one another. And with that came infinite topics or stories to cover in her discography.

"It must be nice," Christian sighed, turning to his teammate. "Hey, didn't you say Y/N was supposed to release another song soon?" The players were shameless fans of her and more. Everyone was and could be, admitting it or not. Collectively or alone, they kept up with every release, every local event. Always asking for free passes to concerts (they thought it was unfair that Kai could receive all that and more), posting her songs on their socials. Never did the boys fall short of supporting one of their favourite artists.

Kai huffed out a breath as he sat down, ruffling his hair. "Yeah. Uh, it's supposed to come out today or something." He unlocked his phone, and his eyes widened when he took notice of the time. "Wait, no. It should be out now, actually!"

"Someone hurry up and put it on!"

"Okay, okay, I got it," Reece said, seeing as he was the last one to play with the music. He typed and scrolled through his phone before nodding, smiling softly. He had an early feeling that he would enjoy the song. "It's called Interference." He let the volume in the room fall low before playing the song.

It started with a lonely moment of silence—almost like hollow air—before they let her voice fill the room, a bit of shushing so the boys could listen to her words. I mean listening to Y/N was an experience by itself for the boys, for anyone really. They found it so easy and comfortable to fall into her music, her voice, her tunes, her melodies. From the excited looks shared around the room to recording their pure reactions to the song, there was a lot for the team to say. Though, in short, the boys thought Y/N sounded amazing.

Her voice kind and tender, yet almost like she was in the room with everyone else, voice bouncing in infinite directions to reach everyone's ear range personally. After playing a game, sure, it was nice to vibe to music that fit the mood. Tunes upbeat and with max bass, songs claiming victory and the feeling of being beyond the world, something to excite bodies more and keep the adrenaline flowing. That was something but Y/N let the boys sit back and drift the focus away from football, to let loose and relax as they should.

Kai could remember it all like he was right back in the music room all over again, sitting next to Y/N and watching her play the piano and finding her zone. It isn't perfect, as she would say, and I don't want it to be anyway. It had all of its imperfections. It was imperfect. Now more refined and volumised in voice, but that familiarity of Y/N, of her music, of their relationship still remained. All that peace and security and love she spoke on so much—it was all still there, through her voice and beyond her fluid words. 

When Y/N's voice faded out Ben fell back in his place, a dreamy smile crossing his face. "I mean-- Kai. She is just," he blew a chef's kiss, a hand hanging over his heart, "wow."

Kai chuckled when the boys were quick to replay the song. "She is, isn't she?" He was very proud of her. For what she created, for what she brought to life, for everything she sourced from a few words scribbled on a piece of paper. Not only because the players liked her music. That was indeed a positive, of course, but rather that she let others feel a certain or different way. That's what she wanted to do, and that's what she delivered. Y/N always did.

"And... this is gonna be on my repeat playlist by tomorrow for sure."

And somewhere, back in the music room, that pride was felt by Y/N. There was a dimple to her grin, a curve to her lips. The players blasted the song in the locker room, singing the lyrics they had yet to know, rocking with the song more than she thought of it herself. The sight of the players (mainly Kai) feeling euphoria galore was enough to get Y/N beginning the creative process for another music project once again.

#kai havertz #kai havertz imagines #kai havertz imagine #kai havertz fic #kai havertz oneshots #kai havertz fluff #kai havertz blurbs #kai havertz x reader #kai havertz x fem!reader #football imagines #football imagine #football oneshots #football fanfic #football blurbs #black!reader #asks #kai havertz x black!reader

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

ok its me again hi AAAHHHH this is so nice i feel so warm im lying on my bed kickin my lil legs i cant believe this thank you for being nice omgggg now im on a roll im gonna say things about julian hkdhjgdgjf

only one song really that i scanned the whole tag looking for to see if anyone said it before and i was so surprised that i didnt find it and i went to check the official playlists on spotify cause maybe its on there already and thERE ISNT ONE WHAT???? i had the muriel one liked on here and id never checked any other ones out lmao but like i swear there had to be one?? like maybe they made it first and its somewhere separately??? julian is like the most popular one how the hell does he not get a spotify list is that how this tag was created?? *gasp* am i discovering the ~fandom lore~

(just gonna say you dont actually need to answer any of that in detail dont waste your time gksgkydgjf im just screaming into the void cause i was so flabbergasted after those 3 whole minutes of research i put into this)

ANYWAY the actual song would be House of Wolves by our lord and saviour MCR! its so good for him with his whole Woe is Me drama king vibe lol and the plaguey thematicssss mmmm delicious TELL ME im a BAD BAD BAD BAAD MAAAAN aight you lil masochist i see u and the "you better run like the devil cause they never gonna leave you alone" you get it caUSE HES A FUGITIVE DO YOU GET THE DEEP UNRAVELABLE METAPHORS DO YOU GET IT DO YOU G aight shut up hkhfjtdy anyway

ok i lied jystfhte heres another one i just remembered i really wanted to put here its not new but just in case somebody hasnt seen it yet lmao its such a masterpiece ill do anything to give it its due here ya go

https://youtu.be/61HltPN_k3g

and the other thing im really glad to have seen people mention here is musical songs cause thats one of the things i love about him the most like yass we love a thespian king slay grl so then anytime im binging a musical there always come the intrusive thoughts of "aw hed love this one" and "oh hed be great for this role" like i went to see f-ing swan lake with my f-ing grandpa and one of the major takeaways i got from the experience was (UH IM GONNA PUT A SPOILER WARNING HERE? I GUESS? IN CASE ANYONE CARES HELLO JULIAN BAD ENDING SPOILERS AHEAD DO MOVE ALONG NOW IF YOU DONT LIKE THAT AVERT YOUR GAZE CITIZENS LMAO LIKE YOU HAVENT SEEN FANARTS N ADS ALREADY ALRIGHT ALRIGHT) "omg jules would be so perfect as that bird guy villain IN HIS BIRD GUY SHAPE TOO OMG WITH THE WINGS ON STAGE THIS IS AWESOME WHY CANT I DRAW GOOD GODDA-"

anyway hed love hadestown (hed at least try to cast muriel as hades cause hes perfectly intimidating for it but theres way too many lines which okay Maybe but AND he has to sing???? nah hes out bkgdhkdt) i dont know what hed think of pierre natasha & the great comet cause its maybe a little eccentric i suppose but i think hed appreciate the cultural roots of the vibe with him being fantasy ruso-slav-ukrainian-whatnot heritage i reckon and hed definitely have a blast at a live performance and hed ABsolutely join in with the actors in between the rows at some point and theyd ABSOlutely let him cause hes that good and game recognize game cmon hes gonna show you amateurs what a real kazotski looks like

i can also see him enjoying sweeney todd, for its delightful edgyness, maybe even some themes relatable for him, and his sappy ass would SO memorise Pretty women to whip it out at an opportune serenading moment khgdturshc im so cringe and loving it

well i cant think of any more shows to throw him together with so thus ends my soliloquy wow i cant believe thats how you spell that anyway i hope anybody who knew what the hell im talking about enjoyed all that jgfztits see you in another 20 minutes when i come back like "AND ANOTHER thing-

Yay, it's the character song essays anon!! :D

I'm glad to see you back, and I will once again be re-linking the song you shared below and adding your suggestions to the tag ^.^

And frankly, I'm 76% certain that one of Julian's love languages is theatre, especially musical theatre. That could be tickets, that could memorizing the lines from one of this favorite scenes and reciting it back to him, it could be showing up to every single performance he's involved in :)

I'm glad to see you back in my inbox, friend, feel free to message me if you ever want to obsess over the characters together! Cheers -

brainrot

#ask arcana brainrot #arcana brainrot playlist #the arcana #julian the arcana #julian devorak #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game

[imaginingfrancium]

sharing some of my xyx headcanons

so that my mind will be at Peace, i'd like to share some of my own xyx headcanon crumbsszxs, related to him being Filipino and other random stuff (from a Filipino [me] who can't stop having xyx brainrots. v detailed, sort of political, and self-indulgent themes ahead):

his parents are full-blooded filipinos, who decided to migrate to australia (to have a better life~~) (taking it from my experience of having relatives telling u to get a job/move abroad bc living in the ph suckz)

his dad passed away when he was in his early teen years. his mom married a local aussie man years later.

yes, he loved his dad so much. his dad was That Present, Supportive Father yeh

he grew up seeing his parents being so loving, caring, etc to each other. like that was his basis of love; he wanted to experience what his parents had. he hoped for it so much that i guess after how many heartbreaks (uhuh lovesick teenager xyx), he got tired and gave it up lol (until fLASH FORWARD to meeting us, and there: the love that was really something. not just the idea of something *bow)

his sister (yes, he has one) is a nurse and he is a lawyer. not bc they were coerced by their parents, but they just really decide it for themselves (imagine the number of times they had to say "no, really. i just want to be one") (v random hc, yes)

he used to visit the ph when he was young. those trips stopped since most of his family members already moved to australia too, and other places abroad.

even though he speaks english with a strong australian accent, it's like it's turned off when he speaks tagalog.

(i reckon that he can speak better tagalog than me 🕴 Jose Rizal be laughing in his grave rn)

he grew out of his catholic roots when he lived by himself, but still tries complete all 9 Simbang Gabi/Misa de Gallo masses. to have some connection with his devote catholic mom, and to honor the times he spent attending these masses with his late dad. (i like Simbang Gabis because of the native delicacies being sold outside the church every after mass)

after the first time you attended Simbang Gabi with xyx, he made a mental note to add Ben&Ben's Bibingka to his playlist about u (v self-indulgent but iykyk) (well if he has one) (i think he does tho)

he is Anti-Marcos and you cannot convince me otherwise. (he could've been that guy who called out marcos jr. personally when he was in aus for a family vacation) (can't find the video of it SKSKSKS)

he was supposed to study in the ph for college because attending university in australia is Expensive ™. luckily, he was able to enter one with a scholarship.

if he didn't though, he probs studied in UP or Ateneo (xyx wearing the UP sablay... as an iska, *tucks hair behind ear*)

(to my fellow filo/filo-speaking bp players) he didn't tell you he was filipino and can speak tagalog when you first got together. he decided to keep it to himself for a while bc he wanted to see your reaction 😎 the moment you knew was when he responded to an endearment you said in tagalog.

"so all along, you understood what i was saying?" "yes." "🕴️" "also your tagalog sucks." "oh f*ck off (affectionately)"

there is a news article about him written by a local ph news source. headline was "Australia-Raised Filipino Lawyer helped win big case vs. big company" something something. (you can smell the Pinoy Pride 🇵🇭 XD comments from here)

xyx listens to OPM !!! it's his 3rd most played genre on Spotify.

he grew up listening to it because of his dad (it is a way for dad to cope with his homesickness) (one more and i'll make a separate hc post about his dad)

with that info, lemme tell u that you both once danced to Ang Huling El Bimbo and/or Panalangin

v sorry for the many random, unorganized thoughts lol and the grammar errors. anyw lemme know what you also think ‽‽

(OPM songs i listened to while writing this: Isang Anghel by zild *highly recommend!!; dekada '70 by zild; Torete by moonstarr88)

(also gonna promote my bloomic but pinoy shitposting hehe)

#filipino xyx brainrot i didn't ask for #my coping mechanism is to write shit down #i need to let this out or else #xyx #blooming panic #bloomic #bp xyx #blooming panic xyx

[rrat-king]

\0/ !!!! (only if u like hugs but) hugs u hugs u i appreciate YOUR mind on them u are liek a gospel- anyways i dont have anything more to add right now but i offer you some trackerbees songs some for one each and some that can be both!

mesh by ollie lewin feels so kristen (kinda post break up to the break up truthers out there but like the yearning of could we try again?) i found this song because of the before your eyes game and uh. an amazing game 10/10 would totally check tws but wow. i sob everytime your dog by soccer mommy obviously very tracker but is that resentment energy of like i hate that i love you this much and i hate ive let it make me neglect my own shit its sorta the same vein of when you desperately want to go back to someone when you know you both need space to grow. like do you sacrifice your sense of self for feeling loved?! forwards, beckon, rebound by adrianne lenker (honestly so many of her songs feel like them to me but alas) but this like hazey imagery of can we be like this? it feels very outside of real for them if they got back together because that energy of everyone already knows our history, we already knew each other inside out. can we go back and relearn that?! will it hold a candle to that flame or will it fizzle out all over again?! honorable mentions; grown up by leith ross, lover // ode to my family by the cranberries (specifically the second verse bc she is still just a kid even if she brushes off hating her parents she gonna think abt it like oh why wasnt i good enough for them, people think i dont care at all but it still eats at me a little bit)

feel free to disagree with me!! i have just had no one to share my trackerbees-isms with and we dont see a lot of ppl explore them !!! so just,, lot of info dumping i hope that is okay

this is perfect. these songs are perfect and i hope you dont mind but i made them into a playlist and added to it a little bit. i'll link it here. but yeah i love talking about them always so pls pls feel free to talk about them with me cuz i am full of thoughts :))

#bird answers #d20 #trackerbees #fantasy high #kristen applebees #tracker o'shaughnessey

[dionysianfreak]

Hi there 👋 Asking for some advice!

I've been researching and (I guess you could say) dabbling in hellenic polytheism for the past...idk, 3 years? I've gotten into the philosophy behind it. I have a decent understanding of decorum, traditions, etc. I've had a few interactions with select deities.

...but, I never have the time to start a regular, meaningful practice. I really love the religion. I love research. But I never have time. And every time I feel like doing something - saying a prayer, for example - I don't feel adequately prepared. I do much less than I would like to, but can't really change my circumstances.

If you had 10mins a day to devote to helpol, how would you spend it? Why?

hellooo sunshine, I can sympathize with your situation to an extent. my life tends to go in phases of extremely busy to all the time in the world on my hands. between that and crippling neurodivergency, my practice is anything but regular. it's pretty much "when I can sit down long enough or muster the energy for it i do all I can in that small amount of time". sorry if this is a more complicated answer than you expected, but I want to give you a lot of ideas, because honoring the Gods can be very mundane.

the first day, I would create a Pinterest acc/boards for the Gods I wish to worship. this way, whenever I have a few moments of boredom or want to devoted some time to it, I could save art and images that I relate to Them and keep them as a devotion. I'd spend a few moments searching their names with "art", "Deity", or "aesthetic" with it to get a few pins for each to start off. then, you can use the more ideas button in the board to see directly related images to what you've already saved. your feed will naturally follow what you like across your whole account. if youd like a visual, or would like an example, this is my devoted Pinterest board.

the second day, (if you don't already have a music collection/app) I'd get a music streaming service such as Spotify, apple music, or YouTube music and collect a lot of music I like onto it. I would create playlists for the Gods I want to worship and I'd probably go through and save a few songs I think Theyd like/remind me of them. as time goes on, keep adding songs so that you can casually honor them while doing mundane things like cleaning, driving, or in between tasks. I'd you'd like a visual or example, this is my devotional playlist to Hermès

on day three, I'd clear a small space and speak words of dedication to begin a shrine. there doesn't need to be anything but dedication, which is something as simple as "i dedicate this space to Deity" or "Deity/Deities, this space is for you. it can be a whole table or a small spot on the counter. there can be small items or nothing at all. this way, i can give offerings whenever i have a chance. a very quick offering I like to give is sharing my meals. I'll cook my daily food and give a small portion to the Gods. if I'm eating a snack like crackers I'll leave a few for Them. this is all you need to start, or at all. from here the possibilities are endless for your space. I'm sure you've seen photos of people's large and lavish shrines, those too once started as a blank, empty spot on the counter.

on day 4, I'd spend a little time finding poetry or prayers that I like. I definitely find a lot on Pinterest but there's a lot more on Tumblr, you can also use Theoi.com for English versions of the ancient hymns. the reason i separate poetry and prayer is because I know many people are uncomfortable with it due to past experiences. I found prayer uncomfortable and alienating as a kid and that still follows me. instead I like to see them at poems for the Gods. words of dedication spoken under my breath or said in my mind. or, if you like to write, you could write a small poem in 10 minutes. prayer and poetry are very good ways of connecting with the Gods, if it's your thing.

in the days beyond this, i would spend time building my dedications. maybe picking up votives (physical, non-perishable offerings for your shrine) if they catch my eye in my daily life. I'd also maybe get a tarot app, or find a coin to use for simple divination. this takes getting used to, but having an on-the-go coin for yes/no divination has saved my butt a few times.

I hope this helps lovely. I tried to split it with color to make it easier to read. no matter how small an act may seem, it is your sacrifice of time and energy that the Gods will reward. after all, that is the one thing we can give Them that we will never be able to take back. happy travels and may the Theoi bless your days

#helpol #hellenic polytheist #hellenic polytheism #resources #devotional acts #lostlitte #ask #theoi #greek gods

[evanescentdawn]

1. Share a song that makes you think of "me and you" 🥺 and also 3. Heh

hi, haku <3 thanks for sending this in ^^ I went ham as usual

also would u look at this. i actually Finished answering this and did not leave it to rot in my drafts for many months ahem which I think deserves a golden sticker. a great yuki feat for nov 2023

1. Share a song that makes you think of “me n you”

UHH…. honestly don’t remember what song I was listening to when writing that fic but def was in my touken playlist. but mmmmh. “spring thief” + “thought crime” by yorushika because the vibes are FITTING. I do not think by lyrics fjfjjfjfjf

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

currently it’s my v beloved, hands under the scorch of the sun (we loved once) (once that is not now) (anymore)

every time i go thro my ao3, which has been a lot lately honestly lol I go so unwell when I see it. ITS THE !!!!! FIC !!!!! I love it so much it’s SO fun it’s so great it’s thee best. I was on a roll when I was writing it

AND OH THE TITLE. OH THE TITKE it’s so great. great as in im So ASHHSHDJDJDAHHHHHH oh my god. I was so Real for it. as my past me wrote “*explodes* —> me” in the end author notes, so v true and noted.

I love v dearly and it’s current fav because of HOW I WROTE IT. the unsaidnsss the tension it goes SO hard it’s unreal. it’s weird in a way too because it’s???? not at all typical way I write???? like WHAT is “casts a look” I never use those kind of phrases or write ways I did in this which is why it makes it so fun and so weird. also PUTHOR/SKALES !!!!!!!! this two make me so unreal for real. ever time I see this fic my longing to finish is another puthor/Skales is so v great. MY BELOVED SNAKES !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

also HEH I’ve been actually been thinking about this fic today. well, technically it was kinda yesterday since it’s 3am rn. don’t ask why I am awake. ANYWAYS, some thoughts I had. like I read this post on “narration distance” and it got me Thinking about it (by that came to learn some v interesting Very Cool stuff about this draft I made yesterday? about Ichigo & Rukia lol) and was looking at my other work and i came to this one again and the start of it:

“pythor casts a look at skales. “what are you doing here?” >>

it immediately starts with a zoom-in, no easing into the character or the scene. fanfiction being a exploration of characters you already know makes this fun sandbox where you can start fics zoomed-in and it won’t be jarring in some ways because the readers assumingky ALREADY know this (assumingky as I’ve Read fics for fandom I know jack shit) anyways. I kinda forgot what sort of thoughts I had then, but. anyways.

I love it drops right into the action of things, no set up for the setting or what not. also I love how it starts hard with “Pythor” the little distance between the narration and “Pythor” right from the beginning puts a focus on Pythor. its an immediate invitation to this pythor’s world. also the way that skales is also referred to as their name in pythor’s pov, instead of a pronoun — putting focus on puthor&skales relationship and creating this smaller distance between the reader and these characters. it’s would be different to read “Pythor casts a look at them” as it makes Skales unknown and puts a distance between the narration and the “them” who is unknown. But instead, it was “Pythor casts a look at Skales” >> it gives importance to Skales as a character in this moment and significant to Pythor itself

and then looking at the entire sentence, at the middle bit that connects Pythor and Skales, “casts a look”. the verb “casts” is very fun sounding and especially the way it’s “k” and “s” sounds give it intensity and the way it it’s a deliberate action that is stressed with the word “cast” is written phonetically. it gives the following “a look” phrase a intensity.

also interesting how “casts” immediately follows “Pythor” putting Pythor…. andddd stoping myself here because my head is hurting. trying to articulate yourself is blergh. anyways V COOL START I LOVE IT V MUCH

also my fav ever part in this fic that makes me *scream*

“i’m here for a proposal.”

skales slithers closer, and skales’ hand is not touching pythor’s but — it’s a close thing.

“for a marriage union.” skales says. eyes firm and not breaking away from pythor’s, saying everything that skales’ mouth isn’t.

something that pythor doesn’t want to translate.

like WHAT IF I EXPLODED. god god god the “skales slithers closer, and skales’ hand is not touching pythor’s but — it’s a close thing.” is my favourite thing EVER

the repetition of “skales” putting emphasis on Skales themselves and everything they are doing. also I LOVE “slithers closer” slithers has this snakey-sneaky feeling to it also the alteration of “Skales slithers” has a nice ring it to. also AHHHH the “closer” it gives it like a tension of some kind. but it doesn’t stop there it goes AND SKALES’ HAND IS NOT TOYCHKNG PYTHOR’S what if I exploded fr. I love the focus on “Skales’ hand” and the way it’s not touching pythor’s. Like the fact it’s not pythor’s is significant!!!!!!!!!!!! it’s about the HANDS, and the NEGATIVE SPACE BETWEEN SKALES AND PYTHORS HANDS and the way the me continues this with the “but” and the dramatic pause of the emdash and says ITS A CLOSE THING

screaming. screeching. OH this is so good. OH this is so brilliant. I love it to death

also HELLOOOO “saying everything that skales’ mouth isn’t.” GAHHH AHHH AHHHHHHHH and that ENDING OF

“something that pythor doesn’t want to translate.”

the way!!!!!! nothing is like said!!!! the way the something that Pythor doesn’t want to translate is never said what it is!!!!!!!! but Pythor does know what it is but it DOESNT want to translate it. the way the whole passage has “Skales’ mouth” “Skales hand” “eyes firm” like as if ever part of Skales is saying something. it’s SO NNNNNGHHH good like give it to me

also the way a… lot of things of these things were accidentally LOL as I was trying to djdjdj write without using pronouns which is a challenge but also creates this super fun effect that im so loving. its so cool. this fic is so cool. I love it v dearly. PYTHOR/SKALES !!!!!!!!!!! OF MY HEART HEHHEHEHHE

also hello the way Skales is so active in this part. the way they slither closer, the way THEIR hand is close to pythor’s and the way THEIR eyes are firm and not moving away from pythor’s. the way !!! Skales only talks !!!! both verbally and a lot thro their body language as well. meanwhile Pythor is just There and while its their pov, it looks like Skales has taken the spotlight. and it finishs with “something that pythor doesn’t want to translate.” LIKE PYTHOR !!!! KNOWS WHAT SKALES IS TRYING TO SAY AND KNOWS SKAES BUT IT DOESNT WANT TO TRANSLATE IT !!!!! IT WANTS TO REJECT IT !!!!!!

also the way the ending just drops off! it doesn’t say what pythor’s responding answer is! it leave u hanging SCREAMING on this heightened tension screams OH its So good so v in love with it heh

def my fav piece right now <3 <3 <3 the Pythor/Skales is so Strong sighs longingly I wish to write more for them but working on the two ideas I have right now is to much work urgh and trying to make more ideas provides to be Hard cuz brain empty only Pythor/skales no idea NDJJDKDJDJD <3 so Helpful lol

ANYWAYS SO THERE IS!!!!! MY PYTHOR/SKALES!!!!!!! FIC !!!!!!!!

im so normal btw abt the title. refraining myself so bad into going into it because i do have not the spoons for that rn JDJKDKDKDKD

#answered asks #hakucho-art 🥰🥰♥️♥️ #<3 <3 <3 #pythor/skales HEH #fic: hands under the scorch of the sun #WE LOVED ONCE #ONCE THAT IS NOT NOW #ANYMORE #sobs & screaming gOD #also lol have the touken song playing rn in the bg. in some touken mood right now I miss them 🥺 #ALSO HELP??? WHEN IT GET TO 5:00 #I SWEAR IT WAS 3 SOMETHUJG WTF SINCE I WAS WRITING THIS #r u saying it could at least 1 hr and something wtf #it Did not feel like that????????

[icharchivist]

I love seeing belial pass by my dash he’s like. a friendly summer storm. anyways I 1) think it’s so funny that whenever I see his summer art I get distracted by the whole sunsetted sky and go oooh pretty… and forget belial who is in front of that. sorry my guy. but 2) perhaps gbf has done this already but I would like to submit to the courts an idea: sleeveless black turtleneck, leather jacket worn slightly loosely so u can see his shoulders / arms partially, and fingerless gloves. just because I think it’s Weirder to pull those off with your teeth in a way that I think belial would be into. this ask was originally gonna be about like. ur rec playlist of songs was one of the only things I downloaded for my flight so I finally listened to all of it and it was very good, probably within temptation was the standout artist to me? anyways that was going to be the ask but I got derailed and had to submit my piece lol. happy thirsting or making yourselves sad I’m actually not sure entirely what’s going on ✌️

dfLKDFJDF THE WAY BELIAL DERAILED YOUR TRAIN OF THOUGHT. his power.

The background taking more of your attention than whoever is in front of that is so funny. Belial is out there out-whoring himself and you're like *shoves him aside* woah the view is so pretty!

And for the style this is SUUUUCH a cool idea. They've never truly done something like that "frankly i think every single arts of Belial still have him have a decolletage except for two sprites) and the sleeveless black turtleneck is something i've seen other angels wear more... but maybe he should just embrace it bc i'm totally down for this imagery; it'd fit him so well oghhhh. And pulling fingerless gloves with your teeth is an ordeal but i'm sure Belial could make it sexy.

Back on topic, LMAOOOO. Ultimate Belial distraction. BUT!!! I'm so glad you got around to listen to it and it made it pass the time during your flight!! i'm so glad you liked it!!!

And so so glad you liked Within Temptation ahhh <333 i adore this band!! It's a band i discovered when i was like 12 and it genuinely shaped a lot about myself, if only bc the aesthetics really spoke to me and at the time it wasn't something i was used in seeing. I kinda fell out of it when i was like 16 because i was looking back at it like "ew cringe stuff from my cringe years", but i relistened to it all a few years ago and was just. actually that slapped 12yo me knew what was up. and now i love it even more.

So i'm so glad you liked it!!! thank you so much for sharing <333 i did select songs and there's a whole lot others songs by WT that i adore so i def recommend checking more of the artist if you're curious for more! esp since a few of the album kinda have a narrative flow in a sense? Or at least i can easily project one on them and it's real fun!

ANYWAY!! thank you so much for the message and the good wishes. And with Belial it's always thirst and sadness at the same time, thank you very much <333333

Take care!!!

#ichareply #aranarumei