#literally had to save this on google docs and update it when i can as tumblr would of eaten this if i hadn't

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 9 (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; fainting; regurgitating profusely; nausea; extreme feelings of stress and anxiety; extreme feelings of sadness; abandonment issues; allusions to a dark, forgotten childhood; therapy; mentions of EMDR therapy; prenatal visits; arguing/raising of voices; heart issues addressed (POTs); use of heart monitors; hemoglobin kits mentioned; emergency room visit and all that might entail (e.r. visit is a longer one, so strap in); revisited, vivid memories of sex; jealousy; body changes as a result of pregnancy; negative self-talk; looooots of baby talk; pregnancy hormones (and this is nothing compared to what's to come - that's all i'll say); reader still being sad while she checks Jake out; oh! and Joshua Michael Kiszka being the perfect angel he is <3 (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 32.6k+ (what the actual-?)

a/n: hi my lovely readers <333 i am deeply apologetic for the time you waited to receive this chapter, but i hope the length (holy fucking shit, btw) will make up for it. i really will try my damndest to not take almost a month next time.....

BUT, as you guys have learned, my chapters are very rarely "short" in length, so you can rest assured i'm quite literally busting ass trying to write the chapters in the near-month span of time between updates. lol <3 (while also doing real-time life w a job and family to tend to every single day)

this story is my baby that has been outlined for months in a google doc and i refuse to release chapters until they're completed with everything i deem necessary to include. i promise it's all for the good of the story and for the ultimate enjoyment of the readers (you!). <3 i'm never purposefully leaving you hangin', babes <3 ily all more than i'll ever be able to properly express. 🫶🏻

special shout out to my sis for being my go-to beta, ear, advice-giver, helper, AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN when it comes to all of the silly little stories i write. @joshym. you are my favorite. you know that. and i love you. so fucking much. forever the daniel to my samuel :)

and another shoutout to my wonderful pal @welightthefire - GOD, i love you. y'all, this lady has been my main source for all things baby related and i'd be hurting without her help on alllll things baby and pregnancy. <3 babe, you are the bomb and you better KNOW IT.

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

-Horace

-🌼🌼🌼-

Your stomach dipped all the way to the heels of your feet, your body feeling a rush of equal parts cold and hot. 

There were no words spoken for several moments, and almost as soon as you’d said it, Josh had turned to face the front. Jaw clenched tighter than you’d ever seen it, he put the car in drive as his hands wrapped tightly around the wheel – 10 and 2. His back was ramrod straight and his jaw didn’t stop flexing as you swiveled to sit to look out the windshield alongside him.

Your stomach was churning— for multiple reasons. On top of the anxiety in the moment, you also hadn’t been eating much as of late. Your appetite was almost nothing — save for pickles and Cosmic-fucking-Brownies. 

It had blossomed seemingly out of nowhere. 

After your night of Mac and Cheese with Jake, you had started borderline craving it afterwards—alongside the brownies and pickles. But, when you’d made some for yourself, you came to realize, with the first bite to your mouth. . . That Mac and Cheese was no longer your friend. 

Although, it had made very close friends with the toilet, as you’d bent over it hurling until every last bit of the yellow food deposited in front of your sweaty face.  

Surprisingly, you’d still been hungry after puking. . . but unfortunately, everything else you’d tried to eat either ended up in the toilet or in the trash from the smell alone. 

And, to your utter demise, Cosmic Brownies had been ruined that day, too. Their contents eventually met the toilet when you’d tried to snack on one that same evening to fill your empty stomach.

Suffice to say, the nausea had started to kick your ass and this particularly tense situation was doing you no favors.

All you could do was steal glances at him, awkwardly, for the thirty or so minutes it took to get to the women’s clinic. He wasn’t talking at all which was so unlike Josh. You’d never gone this long being in the same space as him where he wasn’t talking. The man loved to talk. And you loved to listen and engage.

But that was not the energy that was transpiring between you two.

You would have normally put on music to fill the hollow, painfully silent space. But, you couldn’t bring yourself to move, much less put on music that would just add to the discomfort that you’d created with your confession. And, honestly, it felt like you were already making too much noise every time you took a deep breath. 

Besides stealing the occasional peek at him, you watched the multiple semis that passed you, and the forests that lined the highway, full of leaves with changing colors. 

And Josh just drove. Just fucking drove. And, even worse, he drove normally. Better than normal, actually. Unlike ever before, he was following the highway’s speed limit, all while not getting emotional anytime someone pulled an asshole move on the road. 

He seemed to be putting every bit of his energy into three things: focusing on the road, keeping his jaw clenched tight, and not moving his hands from 10 and 2 unless he had to look over his shoulder to switch lanes.

Once you pulled up to parallel park on a busier street in SoHo, you’d made up your mind to tell Josh to just drive back and that you could hitch a ride with an Uber. 

You didn’t want to make him feel any more uncomfortable than he apparently already felt. 

For one, he didn’t need to be here if he didn’t want to be. And secondly, you couldn’t fucking handle any more right now. The whole point of him being with you was because you were already fucking stressed before you’d ever even told him. And at this point, it seemed you’d been correct in your assumption of him being angry. 

But right now, his reaction didn’t fucking matter. This appointment mattered. Your baby mattered. You needed to be in some sort of decent mind space before you stepped foot into the place. And whether or not that included him was relative to his response when you informed him of this.

You breathed in and out heavily, shutting your eyes as you did so. Once you opened them, you pressed the unlock button on your door, signaling to him that you were ready to get the show on the road. You didn’t have time to fucking sit here and let him sulk. 

Releasing a deep breath once more, you finally turned to look at him once you’d unbuckled. Then, once facing him, you mustered the firmest tone possible at that moment. “Josh,” you started, sharply. He blinked slowly and flexed the muscle in his jaw once more before he turned to make eye contact with you. 

Fuck. His eyes. . . Was he angry? Sad? Indifferent? You couldn’t fucking tell. You’d never seen him so guarded. God, you shouldn’t have invited him to this. You really had started to hope that he would react more like Elsie and Gia thought he would. 

But he hadn’t, and you were faced with whatever the fuck this attitude was that he had chosen to wear. 

Once it was obvious he was going to look at you as you spoke, you continued. “You don’t have to go in there with me,” you began, firm yet empathetic. “I won’t make you. I will go in on my own. I have to. For my own reasons, I have to keep this appointment today. But you don’t have to come in if you would rather not,” you stated, steady and sure. He was free to fucking leave if he wanted. “You can fucking leave. I will not make you go in if you’re angry or upset or uncomfortable. I’ll get a damn Uber and you can drive back to the complex to get your car.”

He seemed to come back to the present, blinking several times and shaking his head. He rubbed one hand down his face, just as Jake did when he would get stressed. 

The similar reaction made your tummy feel fuzzy and desperate for the security you needed at the moment. You needed someone right now. Even if you were willing to do this on your own (which you were), you could really use his support at the moment. 

You unlocked the doors once more, making sure they were ready to go before you reached for the handle. 

Resolutely, you looked over your shoulder before you addressed him once more. “I’m sorry that I made you angr—.”

“I’m not angry,” he finally said softly. After clearing his throat to talk properly again after not talking for so long, he continued. “I’m shocked and— I’m just feeling a lot of things,” he iterated, his eyes begging you to understand. And, you did. “But I am honored that you wanted me to come with you today,” he said, his face transforming to once again show you your Josh. He was back. Grabbing your hand, he finished his thought. “And I would love to go to this appointment with you.”

The tears that filled your eyes and trailed down your cheeks one by one couldn’t be helped. 

“I couldn’t have done this today without you,” you said, voice cracking with emotion. You popped the glovebox to get a napkin to wipe your face, not looking at him as you kept on. “I’ve been so scared for this, and the only person— besides Elsie— that I wanted here with me, was you.”

He reached over to hold your hand, and you tucked the napkin into your lap for backup when you caught his eye again. Before he spoke again, one tear escaped his eye. With one hand lightly squeezing yours, the other dashed up to wipe at the new wetness under his eye. 

Then, after shaking his head, he raised a curious eyebrow to address you. “Wait,” he said wetly before clearing his throat. “Is this your first appointment?”

“Yes,” you blinked, a blush skirting over your cheeks. “I’ve been in denial of it all until super recently.” You sniffed, feeling a couple more tears escape your eye at the topic of conversation and finally talking to Josh about it. It was, admittedly, a lot. “It took me a hot fucking second to come to terms with all of it, so I’m just now at the first appointment.”

He nodded, brows still furrowed as he looked down briefly before finding your eyes again. “How far along are you?”

“I think I’m technically like eleven-ish weeks,” you replied, doing quick math in your head. “I would need to look at my app to give you an exact number. Normally I have it right at the front of my brain, but my nerves are fucking wracked right now,” you bashfully swept your eyes over your hands, interlocked on the armrest. “For obvious reasons.”

You heard him hum and took that as your sign to look at him again. He was watching you carefully, quizzically. His eyes squinted as you, yet again, flushed under his stare. 

“What?!” You hastily spit out, nervous. 

“Does he. . .?”

Knowing exactly what he was asking, you quickly shut down his train of thought. “Jake doesn’t know,” you informed him, tucking your chin as you quietly repeated yourself. “He doesn’t know.”

“Alright,” he responded, not questioning you in the slightest. Your eyes flashed up to meet his: the color of cocoa and sparkling. “Does Elsie?”

Without any words, you gave him a look that answered his pondering thoughts. 

He chuckled, and you joined him by huffing a little laugh, just under your breath. You felt your cheeks loosen with an easy smile. Your shoulders were relaxing more and more by the second. The familiar, natural sense of joviality with him was settling your frazzled nerves.

You eyed the clock on the dashboard and suddenly realized that you were cutting it very close to your appointment time, with no more than a few minutes to spare before you would be running late. 

Sensing your sudden shift in mood, he took the keys out of the ignition just as you unlocked the doors once again, and opened yours. 

“Let’s go inside,” he encouraged, mimicking your action as he opened his own door behind your turned back. 

When you were out of the car, and waiting (sort of) patiently on the sidewalk for him, you physically shook out some of the anxiety that had made home in your bones for the last several months. 

He officially knew that you’d had sex with Jake. He knew that now. And he knew that it had resulted in a baby. He knew enough for now.

And it actually seemed like things were going to be okay. Maybe Elsie had been right all along (though you’d never tell her that).

Your thoughts were affirmed when he came up beside you, pulling you into a hug as soon as he was at your side. A full-on Josh hug: arms wrapped securely around your shoulders. You did your best to hold back tears, so as not to soil his stark white sweatshirt.

Pulling away before you could let any inevitable tears take over, you looked up at him to see his dimple, present in his cheek. You couldn’t help the single tear that trickled down your cheek at the overwhelming feeling of normality. He was warm. He was real. He was Josh. 

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, bringing you to him once more before taking your hand in his and wrapping it up tightly. 

Peeking up at him through wet lashes, you saw his face was still turned up in his signature grin, his eyes, slightly playful as he gave you a knowing look he’d given you a thousand times before. 

“You’ve got this, mama,” he reassured with a wink, opening the door to the clinic for you.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The place was fucking amazing. The pictures you’d seen on its website hadn’t done it justice at all. The environment was trendy and relaxing and comfortable. Soft music, similar to that of a lullaby played in the open space, only illuminated by the natural light of the day. No overbearing fluorescent bulbs.

Thank God.

As you made your way to the front desk, you decided to let go of Josh’s hand. 

For some reason, it just felt right to do this on your own. Felt right to make this stride on your own. You could handle the front desk.

“You go sit down,” you offered, motioning to the couches that filtered the chic waiting room. “I think I can do this part.” 

“You sure?” He asked, brows dipping to show his genuine concern. “I’m with you every step of the way. I mean it.”

Your eyes drew wet at the words, but you sniffled and cleared the emotion from your throat when you went to grab his arm through the soft white material of his sweatshirt. “I love you so much for that. I can’t even tell you, Josh,” you told him, a tear escaping despite your efforts. “But I’ve gotta take this step on my own.”

He nodded, needing no further explanation. “I’m over here if you need me,” he threw a thumb at the couches behind him. 

You watched as he walked to the couch nearest to the front desk, sitting comfortably on the blush pink velvet that covered it. You tipped your head at him once, showing him and yourself that you were starting your trek to the counter. 

Once there, you were greeted by the kind smile of a woman most likely in her fifties or sixties, her thick black-framed glasses taking up more than half of her face. Her tanned complexion was flawless and her lips were full with red lipstick as she stretched them over perfectly white teeth. Her jet-black hair was half-up, half-down, haphazardly thrown up with a claw clip, but looking flawless nonetheless. 

She matched the modish aesthetic of the clinic to a T. 

“Hi, babe,” she cheerily greeted you with an out-of-place Southern accent in SoHo, her voice still low to keep the room quiet. “You have an appointment today?”

You froze. The reality of it all suddenly came barreling towards you.

Fuck. Shit. Yes. I do have an appointment today. I’m pregnant. I’m standing here, waiting for an appointment because I’m fucking pregnant.

Dammit. What the fuck? I’m. . .?

You standing here suddenly seemed completely astronomical and unreal– was this truly what life was for you now? While thinking about it nonstop, you’d also not been thinking about it to the extent that it would’ve taken for all of this change to click. This was real. Real life. 

You were carrying a human child. 

And you were at your first appointment for it.

Goddamn.

Blinking several times, you tried to keep your grounding firm as your eyes traced her features a thousand times– searching your suddenly static-filled brain for the most simple word in the English language. 

“Y-y-y–,” you shut your eyes tightly to reset. Come on, y/n. You’ve got this. It’s just one word. 

But you suddenly weren’t sure if you ‘had this’. Your hands began to shake uncontrollably at your sides; you wiped them repeatedly on your leggings. 

But before you could moisten the fabric covering your thighs completely, you went to place them on the counter, touching your current surroundings to center yourself. To hold on to what was real. 

Gia would be so proud.

But then your brain raced right back to the true reality of it all. The reason you were freaking out in the first place was because of the real you couldn’t escape–not that you wanted to, by any means. . .right?! You wanted this. You wanted this. 

You DO want this, y/n. Deep breaths.

The voice sounded so eerily similar to your therapist’s that it helped you to grasp onto a flicker of stabilization. 

This reality was not new. You’d known it was real. You had known there was (probably—hopefully) a kid in you for the past few weeks. And being in this place didn’t make that anymore different than before— minutes before when you’d stepped through the door of the clinic. 

Then you’d walked up to the counter and had one simple question asked of you.

You shook your head once more before blinking open your suddenly-wet eyes. 

But you couldn’t look up from the floor. From your high-top, white Chuck Taylors, now off-white and stained from years of wear. 

And swirling before your eyes in ways they shouldn’t be from the amount of nerves encapsulating your brain. . . Your stomach was rolling.

All of a sudden, you felt a familiar arm wrap around your trembling shoulders, strongly holding you to his chest to keep you stable. The cologne that came from the person, along with the overwhelming rush of relief that came with his presence was a dead giveaway for your new company.

Everything settled.

“Yes,” Josh stated, clearly, for you. “Yes, it’s her first appointment. Y/n? Y/l/n?”

A couple of beats and a few clicks from a mouse followed his words. Then you heard a clipboard clack lightly against the counter and a pen getting clicked open before she sat it on top of the board. 

“Whenever she’s ready,” her voice assuredly spoke, so soft and warm. “I’ll get y’all back there when the time feels right.”

You’d effectively curled tighter into Josh before you looked back up at the sweet lady, meeting her eyes with embarrassment laced through every feature on your face. The muscles in your jaw relaxed when you met her eyes, finally speaking. 

“Thank you,” you muttered. “I’m so sorry.”

She tilted her head at you, sending an understanding wink your way. “No need to apologize, sweet pea,” she calmly hushed, her voice sounding reminiscent of any old Southern woman you’d ever seen in a movie. “It’s a whole lot to deal with. We get it.”

Your lips quivered up into a small smile, eyes watery. “That means a lot,” you sputtered, fresh tears making their way to your jaw. 

Dear fucking God. The tears had to stop at some point. You’d always been a crier, but these motherfucking hormones were just bringing out the absolute most. Pulling out all of the stops. Your emotions, pre-pregnancy, were already shaky, at best. . . and they were apparently just getting progressively worse with the damned baby hormones.

The anxiety was understandable. But the crying? It was almost nonstop. And it was getting old already. 

Though, you knew–you knew–that it wasn’t even fucking close to being over. If everything today went accordingly and you officially found out there was a whole ass baby growing inside of you, you knew that this spike in emotions was only the beginning. 

Sharing one more smile with the lady behind the desk, you walked with Josh back to the waiting room couch he’d been occupying prior to your blessed meltdown. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Unashamedly, you let Josh fill out all of the paperwork. You were still tense and uneasy, but the way you’d handled answering the questions, with him right by your side helped more than you’d intended it to. The process had just been an easy ebb and flow, answering basic questions about yourself. 

And questions about Jake—but Josh answered those with zero problems. Basic Father-Of-The-Child shit that Josh could ramble off in his sleep. You couldn’t help peering over his shoulder as he answered those. You couldn’t explain the intrigue— you just thought it funny seeing him answer questions about his twin. . . Like it was nothing. 

Then came questions about your menstrual cycle. Which were not your favorite to have Josh write the answers to— but you didn’t want to put pen to paper, so you continued to let him write even those, too.

The rest of the process went easily. He’d rattle off a question, and you’d answer it. That was how it’d gone for roughly thirty minutes. 

He’d clicked his tongue, drawing a line down the section about past pregnancies. And then he’d come to a question that made him give you a look. He had one eyebrow raised as soon as he’d read through the last question. 

The last question. The last question that had been slightly unwelcome and less than wonderful to have him fill in for you. 

You didn’t know why you hadn’t thought of it being on the sheet. Your mind had been too focused on other things for the past several days. Like hopelessly depressing scenarios involving your baby’s wellbeing and telling people and eating fucking pickles. . . you just hadn’t really given much weight to possible questions on this initial patient questionnaire. 

You pulled your body back slightly, your own face morphing to one that mirrored his. “What?”

“The last question— they want to know if you’re sexually—,” he cleared his throat, shaking his head once before before continuing. “If you’re sexually active.”

You blushed deep crimson—your cheeks, flaming hot. You knew exactly where his mind went because it was where yours went with the question. 

Are you still having sex with Jake?

You coughed briefly, clearing the awkward air before you responded. “No,” you divulged, your eyes flitting up to his: big, wondering and deep chocolate. “No. We’re not— fuck. I’m not. I’m not having sex. I don’t know if he is,” you rambled, bringing a hand up to slap your forehead. Your heart rate even accelerated the slightest bit, hurting your chest. What in the fuck? That's unnecessary. It’s one question, y/n. Quit being nervous—there’s no need. “But—I’m not having sex. Not sexually active, no.”

Josh brought your hand away from your head, which was suddenly breaking out in a cold sweat. You found his eyes: open and willing to listen and understand. Your heart rate slowed considerably at his expression. “It’s okay, y/n. Either way, I don’t care. It’s your life.”

You blinked away more tears—god, fuck. Not trusting yourself to speak, you simply nodded in response. The response was what you’d needed to hear from the beginning. Would things be different if you’d heard those words from him at the beginning of all of this? 

It was no use to imagine. You hadn’t heard his affirmation before now, and at this point, it was officially too late. You’d hurt Jake. Jake had moved on and proved to you that you really weren’t that important to him.

And, the sad truth: even if Josh was okay with it, you had plenty more reasons to keep your title with Jake strictly roommate—friend at most. 

Also, officially, the mother of his child.

Clasping your hands over your tummy, you watched as he checked the “no” box. Then, you watched his eyes scan the sheet quickly to check for any missed questions, clicking his tongue against his teeth all the while.

Thankfully, it seemed you’d successfully answered all of them when he got up to walk the sheet back to the counter for you, where a nurse now occupied the seat, you’d observed. Scrubs, making that apparent.

You had been too busy spacing out on the many questions Josh had asked of you, per the sheets. You hadn’t the mind to pay attention to where the receptionist had gone.

Josh came back over to you shortly to get your driver’s license from you, along with your insurance card. 

“They’ll need these on file,” he said, flashing both at you once you’d given them to him. He brought them back after they’d scanned them into the system, but went up to the counter to answer any questions they may've had as you waited on the couch. 

He was seriously the best. You, proving to be completely useless, didn’t hinder him from being the most incredible friend whilst you sat, doing nothing. 

Before too long, once (you assumed) the general information from the sheet had been entered in the system, you heard your name called from the door to the side of the desk, and you were steadily ushered to the back by a nurse. (With Josh in tow, of course. He wasn’t going anywhere.)

“Nice day outside?” The young nurse, blonde hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, asked politely, as you stepped off the scale she’d weighed you on. 

“Yeah,” you responded, glancing over your shoulder at Josh. “Nice fall day. But a little warmer than we like it, huh, Josh?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yes,” he responded. “Definitely not enjoying my choice of clothing today. . . Not the day for a sweater, I’ll say.”

The nurse hummed, taking in the information as she grabbed a cup from the counter with your first initial and last name on it. “How long have you guys been together?” She addressed you once with a smile, looking between the two of you with a twinkle in her eye. 

You didn’t mean to squawk with a laugh. 

But thankfully you didn’t have to worry about it because Josh did, too. 

The laugh was, once again, exactly what you needed to calm you down. Your shoulders, still releasing their tension from earlier, became more and more relaxed with each giggle you released. Josh was holding his mouth and shaking his head, his smiling eyes closed while you answered the question. 

“We’re not together,” you explained, the laughter dying down as you caught the nurse’s wide eyes sympathetically. “He’s my best friend. Dating my sister, actually.”

“Oh,” she grinned shakily, eyes jumping back and forth between the two of you. “You both just–he’s here with you today—and you two just seem to fit so well together.”

You smirked, throwing a sideways glance at Josh who was watching the woman with the same sympathetic gaze as you. He must’ve sensed your staring, though, because he quickly threw a look your way. 

He winked at you before adding in his two cents. “I mean, you weren’t wrong. We do mesh incredibly well, but her sister’s had my heart for a helluva a long time. However, I am the uncle,” he informed her, pointing to himself before throwing the same pointer at your tummy. 

It made your heart flutter a thousand beats per minute at hearing him say, for the first time, that he’s the uncle. Josh being bound by blood to the little bean growing within you is another reason you feel assured in your decision to keep it. It’s part of Jake, and part of your closest confidant (aside from Elsie) for years. You’ve obviously thought about it plenty of times before now, but finally hearing Josh acknowledge it was something your heart desperately needed.

“My brother is the father. I’m just her best friend–don’t know what he is to her, though," he finished.

Your eyes widened as you were still getting used to hearing Jake being referred to as the father out loud. . .

Better get fucking used to it, though–nothing you could do about it. 

You also weren’t sure what to make of Josh’s last statement–was he still upset with you that he didn’t know anything about Jake’s role in your life? The inflection in his tone sounded a bit more sneering than you would have liked.

Whenever she spoke next, you were able to snap out of it, recovering quickly.

“Whoa,” she said, blowing out a breath. “That’s. . . wow.” Shaking her head, she looked at the cup in her hand, handing it over to you before she continued. She seemed to be done with the conversation, and ready to get back to the task at hand. “Every woman that comes in for her first appointment gets her blood drawn and urinates in a cup,” she motions to the plastic container she’d handed over to you, then taps at her arm as she watches you carefully for her next spiel. “We draw the blood so we can use it to identify your blood type and to look for other conditions we may have to monitor or treat during your pregnancy.”

Damn. That was a hell ton of information. What do I even make of all of that?

It was your turn to just stare blankly at her and offer a simple okay before she was pointing to the room with the open door, across the hallway, for Josh.

“You can wait in that room for her,” she stretched a little half smile over her delicate features. “She will be there shortly.”

He gave you two thumbs up and a reassuring grin before going in the direction she’d told him. Then she was leading you to the nearest bathroom so you could pee in your fucking cup. After giving you a few instructions, along with a sterile wipe, and informing you on how to get an uncontaminated urine sample, she was letting you in to the single-person restroom. 

It definitely matched the trendy environment of the rest of the clinic and was cleaner than probably any other public restroom you’d ever been inside. You did exactly as she’d instructed and made your business quick before handing off the sample to the same nurse from before. She sat it in a window where someone behind immediately grabbed it. 

“Going off to the lab,” she half-smiled, but quickly tipped her finger to signal you to follow her further down the hallway. “Now I’m going to draw some blood real fast, and then you’ll be free to go wait for the doctor in your room.”

Sitting in a chair in a room towards the back, a couple of other nurses went about their business as your nurse cleaned your arm, using a cotton ball with her now-gloved hands. 

“Does getting your blood drawn freak you out?” She apprehensively questioned before she went to insert the needle. “Or these?” She wiggled the needle in the air to emphasize.

You shook your head, pursing your lips. “For some reason, those are two things I’m totally fine with,” you spoke, your voice tilting up at the end. “I don’t know why they don’t freak me out—everything else fucking does.”

God, shut the fuck up, y/n. Let her do her job.

The blonde gave you an odd look, as if you’d spoken too much for her taste. 

And that pissed you off. You no longer felt bad for talking too much. 

You fucking asked me, bitch.

Thankfully, you were able to get rid of her in minutes-time. As soon as she’d bandaged your arm over a cotton ball, she pointed you to the room she’d sent Josh. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled with a small, semi-annoyed smile before making your way to the room where Josh waited. 

His eyes were huge when you made your way into the small exam room. 

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “You’ve got it cut the fuck out for you, huh?”

You gave him a look that said Seriously? and rolled your eyes. “Duh, Josh,” you replied, taking in the small room with pretty pictures of babies all over the walls. “I kind of already knew that. Since I am the one carrying the fuckin’ baby and all.”

God, that was harsh, y/n. He doesn’t deserve your anger like that.

Both of his hands went up to guard him as he crossed one leg over the other. “Jesus, y/n,” he sighed, eyes huge. “Give me a damn break. I didn’t even know until today that you were pregnant. Didn't fully know any of it. It’s a lot for a guy, I guess.”

“Damn, I’m so sorry that it’s so much for you as a man, Josh,” you scowled, your voice not hiding any of your irritation with him for his last comment. 

Seriously, y/n?

To be fair, as amazing as Josh truly was, he was still a man— and half of the time men didn’t know their heads from their assholes. Didn’t ever know the proper times to say stupid shit. (Or, to not say it at all.) 

You had to put it in perspective, though . . .because you kind of sucked at saying ridiculous shit, too. So you could only get so angry with him.

“That was a stupid thing to say,” he admitted. “Sorry.”

You tried to laugh it off. You didn’t want there to be unnecessary tension right now—it was the very last thing you needed. “It’s fine,” you encouraged. 

You propped yourself to sit the best you could on the edge of the beige-matted table. The thin paper that covered it crinkled underneath you– made you feel like you were making way too much noise for the tiny room.

“I’m sorry for being short. I need you. For multiple reasons. But right now. . .I just need you to be with me when I find out if this bean actually exists in my loins. . . If I’ve been imagining it the whole fucking time, or if I’ve lost it. . .,” you swallowed. You had to blink back the tears gathering in your eyes as you trailed off at the dreaded possibility. “I just need you to see with me if there’s anything sad to be seen,” you added, voice suddenly wet. 

“Hey,” Josh spoke, softly. “Look at me.”

You swiveled to do as he said. The attempt to not cry was useless. The tears were drenching your cheeks. The fear that had settled so deeply in your bones since the day you’d heard that podcast was coming to light, as you’d just uttered the worries aloud for the first time. 

Barely seeing Josh through the wetness that clouded your vision, you replied the best you could, albeit extremely pathetically. “Yeah?” 

“Why are you worried about those things?” He asked, so quietly, eyes gleaming to bring light. Grabbing your hands, his eyes became suspicious slits when he addressed his next question. “Y/n. . . Have you given yourself any time to feel excited about this appointment? Or have you just focused on the anxiety you’ve built up, surrounding today?”

You bowed your head out of embarrassment. “I’ve been excited, Josh. . .,” you muttered, completely aware of the lie. 

“Mmm,” he responded, rubbing his chin with one hand as the other still grasped both of yours, sure and comforting. “I suspect that’s untrue. . . I know you, my love.”

Gasping on a sob, you closed your eyes to stop crying, covering your face with your hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said, squeezing your hands, down and away from your face. He held them still with one of his own, the other helping to slide his chair closer to you. “Don’t you dare be sorry, mama— there’s no reason. This is just the beginning; you’ve got plenty more opportunities to be excited. . . I’m sure plenty of women get worried before this first appointment. There’s a lot up in the air before the first time you see the little thing on the screen.”

You opened your eyes to look at him. And though they were still wet, nothing else was coming from your ducts— thank god. “Yeah?” You asked, desperate to know he actually might understand, tone begging him to tell you you’re not crazy. “You think?”

He nodded with his lips pursed, his new mustache squiggly with the action; his brows, tied together, and eyes, serious. “Oh, yes. I know it. You are not alone, love,” he reassured you, helping your heart rate slow to normal for the millionth time that day. “But that’s why I hope every single one of those women has a person who is there for them on days like today.” He paused, setting his eyes firmly on you before continuing. “Because, today, we are going to discover and conquer whatever we find out from that screen—,” he tilted his forehead toward the monitor screen, “Together.”

Your eyes welled, lip sticking out with a pout. God, you loved him. You truly couldn’t have done today without him. “I really need a hug from you.” 

Without question, he was up and out of his seat, wrapping his arms snugly around you. You tucked your nose into his neck, breathing in his cologne— the familiar smell of his patchouli exactly what you needed to feel secure in the moment. 

You were busy focusing on his breathing, in and out, in and out, when the door received a knock and creaked open behind his back. He must’ve heard, too, and moved away from hugging you and back to his seat as you both watched for the doctor to walk through the door.

But the only person you saw was. . . the receptionist? What was she doing in—? 

“I’m Dr. Rose,” the beautiful lady—who was a doctor apparently, not a receptionist—greeted you with that same, thick Southern accent. “It’s nice to see you doin’ better since I last saw ya, babygirl.”

You blinked several times, feeling immediately at ease with the familiar face. “You’re a doctor? Not a receptionist?”

God, stupid, y/n. Duh. She just said that, you moron.

She chuckled. “Yes ma’am,” she replied, as she clicked on every button on the monitor needed to complete the appointment. Afterwards, as things whirred to life, she went to open the laptop she’d carried in with her, sitting atop the counter. “I’m your doctor, sweet cakes,” she twanged in her western tone. “I’ll be with y’all until the very end of this wonderful journey we call pregnancy.”

You grinned, appreciative of the fact that you were already familiar with her—even if it was from the tiniest interaction earlier. But you couldn’t hold onto that feeling for too long before you got nervous of the impression you’d made earlier with your anxiety attack (or whatever the hell that’d been). 

With concerned brows, you cleared your throat before offering up some words of your own. “I’m so sorry that the first time you met me I was acting like a basket case,” you apologized, extremely self conscious. Crossing your legs tighter, you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. When that still hadn’t been enough to contain the nervous energy, you let your hands rest on your belly. 

Tapping away at the small bump, skin tight under your sweater, you waited for her response. 

She gave you a look that immediately eased you. Her brow, raised, and beautiful red lips quirked up in a small grin. “Now, little missy, I told you earlier that we get it and I meant it.” Dr. Rose sat on her rolling stool, wheeling over to the table. And once there, extended it to be higher so she could talk better with you closer to eye level. “You are not the first one to get all nervous at your first prenatal appointment—or any OB appointment at all— and you’re certainly not the last—far, far from it,” she smiled wide, close-lipped and completely empathetic. Her deep set, big, brown eyes— lashes so long and curled to perfection— showed you how much she cared, behind her big black frames. “Now, how about we get to the good stuff?”

There were obviously a couple tears dripping down your cheek, and you pushed them away as you nodded. Your tummy did all of the flips and tosses and turns—your skin was practically buzzing with nerves. 

You were so close to seeing the truth.

Facing this head on.

“Go ahead and lay back for me,” she instructed. You did as you were told, bending an arm behind your head, trying to get comfortable in skin that felt restrictive. As she stood up, clicking a few buttons to get the monitor screen situated, she asked some questions. “Now can you give me a small debrief on your health history? Anything you can think of? Don’t worry about digging too, too deep right now. We have your blood samples and urine sample that will also aid in indicating any abnormalities.”

The word abnormalities wasn’t your favorite thing to hear, but you didn’t let it sit tight in your brain as you pondered anything she might need to know. 

“Um,” you dipped into the more current issues you’d faced. “I guess. . . anxiety? Depression? Do those count?” 

Dr. Rose hummed in approval and gave a small grin as she went to get a few materials from the cabinet.

“I think the anxiety is worse than the depression, but they’re both persistently just. . . there,” you contemplated what else. . . nothing much was coming to your mind. “I also got my tonsils taken out when I was like 12 years old. . .?”

“You say that as a question,” she commented, a lilt in her voice and a smile on her face, showing that she found it funny. 

“I did have them taken out,” you huffed a laugh, rolling your eyes at yourself as you pushed back a few strands of hair that had fallen out from behind your ear. “I’m just kind of. . .blanking. I know there’s more, but I’m just–just fucking nervous.”

“That’s understandable, sweetie pie,” she assured, her thick Southern accent making your heart rate settle just a bit.

“I know I’m probably missing a few things. Like, there are parts of my childhood that are hazy at best, so there might be things buried back there that I can’t tell you today,” you informed carefully, hoping she understood. When she nodded, you took that as your sign to continue. “I’m seeing a therapist right now who is actually helping me dig up some of it, so I might have a few more answers for you next visit.”

There was a moment of silence as Dr. Rose continued to prepare the sonogram machine, the obnoxious clacking of keys and buttons covering the dull electrical hum that surrounded you. However, that singular moment of time seemed to carry on and on as the nerves in your body seemed to twist your gut to the point that your organs felt close to pushing out of your belly button.

It was as if simply mentioning your mental health – and whispering of your past – was enough to send you into a mini spiral. The muted lull of the clinic didn’t help anything. . . the almost soundless environment, wrapping you up in its emptiness and choking you.

Tap, tap . . .  Tap, tap . . .  Tap, tap . . .

You tried to focus on the thrum of your fingertips along the tender skin of your swollen abdomen, hoping and praying it would keep your thoughts at bay.  

She was taking a long fucking time–which you were sure was normal and warranted. 

But, God. The room just started feeling smaller and smaller as the thoughts got bigger and bigger. You were in the room that was about to tell you the truth of the matter and you still seemed so far away from finding out. . . You weren’t sure what to think. 

Were you even ready to see what the ultrasound was about to show you?

Josh must have noticed the nervous energy you were exuding as the stoppers on the legs of the chair made a sharp scraping noise against the sterile linoleum tile, making you cringe the tiniest bit. He moved his chair closer to the side of the table next to you, opposite of where Dr. Rose sat on the other side.  His dark eyes made contact with yours and his brow raised as if to say, ‘are you okay?’.

All you could manage to do was nod in response, brows knitted.

“Alrighty, I’m going to put some of this gel on your belly and then you’ll feel a bit of pressure once we start.”

You were half expecting a chill to make you jolt with the application of the thick gel, much like you'd seen in movies - you know, where it’s freezing cold and uncomfortable - but as it fell against your skin, you were surprised to be met with a warm temperature that relaxed you.  The clean scent of the gel overpowered your nostrils, but not in a bad way.  It gave you something else to focus on as a slight pressure from the head of the wand, came to push lightly against your belly, just above your pelvic bone.

The black and white image appeared on the screen and. . . showed you nothing. 

Nothing. 

Emptiness. Empty stomach.

Amidst the gray static on the screen, there was nothing but a big black spot that resembled a the shape of a bean.  You had to force yourself to look away, an all-too familiar stinging feeling in the corner of your eyes, showing up again.

All this time, the acceptance of your pregnancy and the effort and hard work you’d put in to create a better life for yourself (and this part of him inside you). . . had shown to be completely pointless.  The feeling of hope that you'd begun to welcome into your life was on the brink of shattering and it didn’t help that Dr. Rose wasn’t saying anything. . . wasn’t doing anything aside from sliding the wand against your empty stomach.

God fucking dammit. All of your worst fears were coming to fruition and every moment you stared at the bleak screen you felt the emptiness on the screen envelop your heart until—.

Thump thump.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as Josh gently grabbed onto your arm, reassuring, and pointed at the screen above you. On the screen, displayed clear as day right in front of you, was the outline of a baby’s delicate profile.

The soft curve of its forehead, the splotchy spikes of a tell-tale spine, a little belly, the slightest movement of four tiny limbs protruding from the sides and bottom. . . and the tiniest flicker in the center of it all.

You couldn’t tear your gaze away as Dr. Rose started to press more buttons and a bunch of small dotted yellow lines showed over the image of your baby, measuring from point A to point B. She was speaking, but you couldn’t be bothered to listen to the words she was saying. All you cared about was the miniscule movements on the screen as a leg kicked up or an arm pushed out.  

It was beautiful, striking, amazing, wonderful, unbelievable, and real. . . so very real.

What you had found yourself questioning for weeks wasn’t just a thought, but now cemented reality. The concerns you had and the voice in your head doubting you were silenced to nothing - because the life growing inside you, the product of you and Jake, was right in front of you.  

The product of the best night of your life was finally proven to be the best part of you and it was real.

Thump thump.

The steady sound of a little racing heartbeat drew you back to the present and to the words your doctor was saying to you.

“Profile looks darn good, placenta is anterior, there’s the umbilical cord. . .,” She spoke as she pointed with her finger to each shape of white that was mixed into the static. “Heartbeat is 160, there’s the bladder and the kidneys, oh!” Dr. Rose exclaimed with a chuckle as she seemed to record a movement. Upon playing it back in front of you, she explained the movement as a little hand with five fingers moved up towards a space by the baby’s nose. “The little angel is wavin' at you, mama,” she looked down at you with a knowing smile. 

Your heart swelled more than you’d ever felt in your entire life. This was . . . otherworldly. Absolutely earth-shattering. There were not any words you could string together that would do this moment justice.

“Wow,” you muttered, voice officially clogged with the tears that relentlessly poured down your cheeks. You sniffled. “It’s. . . moving?”

“Sure is,” she winked. “Has been for a while. You have an especially active little one – already. Prepare for some monster kicks here in a couple months, mama.”

“Wow,” you repeated.

“Gets it from their uncle,”Josh said, sniffling behind you.

You smiled over at him. You felt the joy he did. All around. More. This was your baby. Yours and Jake’s. God.

“Exciting, huh, babe?” She asked knowingly. 

All you could do was nod. You weren’t sure you could stop smiling. . . it was hurting your cheeks, but you welcomed it. This was. . . this was everything. Everything you could have ever wished for.

“I know it, honey bun,” she agreed, her red lips perked with joy for you. “Also, according to the size of the baby and the start date of your last menstrual cycle, I would say you are at right about 12 weeks, little missy.”

Once she’d confirmed the gestational age, you saw her scoot the cart back a bit and wipe the wand she’d used with a sterile wipe, putting it back in its slot. Then, she cleaned your belly of any leftover jelly. You just watched from where you were still leaned back, head resting on one arm behind it. She stripped her gloves and tossed them in the nearest waste bin.

“Twelve weeks. Yep,” you breathed, pulling your shirt down. Your cheeks lifted even more at officially knowing (relatively) how old your little bean was. “Based on my last period.”

“Yes. Because, oddly enough, that is technically when the pregnancy started,” she explained. “On the first date of your last menstrual cycle.”

Dr. Rose went to grab a packet, a pamphlet, and a few free-flying papers, all paper-clipped together, from the counter. You sat up as she clicked her way back to you on her stilettos. She kept talking as she handed them to you. “I don’t wanna clog up our time today with all of the technicalities – unless that’s what ya want?” She offered. 

You shook your head no. Today, all you’d come in wanting to know was that your baby was alive. And you knew that now. And fuck, it felt nice. Better than. 

Except . . .

“Is the baby healthy?” You asked worriedly, needing to hear her tell you.

“Positively. One hundred percent, mama,” she confirmed, her teeth sparkling behind her red lips. “From what I could see on the scan, you’ve got a perfectly healthy baby squirmin’ around in there.”

You internally and externally let out a sigh of relief that had needed released for a fat second. The baby was okay. Healthy. Moving. Alive. 

Everything was going to be alright.

You looked down at Josh, his face glowing, cheeks glistening with tears. “I’m so proud of you,” he choked. 

Another tear slipped down his cheek as you felt one well in your eye. You didn’t know why he was proud of you, but the words made your emotions spike. You were proud of the little life inside of you. . . already doing its best to live its best life.

“Back to what I was sayin’ before,” Dr. Rose went on. Your eyes found her, clicking off the machine. “In that paperwork you’ll find all of the technicalities and logistics about the pregnancy. Which vitamins you should take. Prenatals our clinic suggests. Recommended foods to eat. The baby’s size week by week. When I say everything, sweetie, I mean ev-er-ything,” she emphasized in her twang. “You can find the same information on our clinic’s website. There is a help tab on there for our mothers-to-be, but I always provide physical copies for my girls. I also recommend downloading at least one pregnancy tracker app to get notified with updates – it’s just convenient and fun.”

“I downloaded one recently, actually. It’s been amazing. Thank you for everything,” you weakly offered. You also had to know. . . “Will you be the one delivering the baby?”

“Sure thing,” she affirmed. “With ya till ya want rid of me. Speaking of that day, our partnering hospital is Cedars-Sinai, so that is where you’ll end up having the baby,” she paused, bringing her eyes to you. “Since you indicated on the form that you would prefer a planned hospital birth over a planned home birth.”

“Correct. Hospital birth for me,” you affirmed.

“Now, we are going to schedule your next appointment for four weeks from now,” she continued, opening her tablet and typing out the information for her calendar, presumably. “How does December 8th sound, honey bun?”

You didn’t check your calendar, because you would make that day okay. Anything you needed to do to make it happen. “Sounds perfect,” you replied, practically jittering with excitement for the next one. “When will I find out the gender?”

“I always have my girls wait until week 18,” she responded, turning buttons off on the machine before scooting it back where it had started. “So, when you come in for your next appointment, we will actually have ya schedule an extra lil appointment in there to see what our little buddy is in there.”

“Got it,” you told her. 

“Your sonogram pictures will be waitin’ at the front desk for ya,” she said, washing her hands. Then, after she dried them, she grabbed her laptop. “And finally, your due date is–at this point, according to what we know–May 23rd.”

The date was suddenly the most important you’d ever heard. 

It was the day you now felt you’d been waiting for your entire life.

Without ever knowing it. 

This baby was already changing your heart for the better and everyday, it seemed like all the little (alive and moving) bundle of hope did was bring you unadulterated joy. 

The most precious gift that you’d made with someone so precious to you.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Once you’d finished the appointment, Josh had asked if you had any plans. And when you’d said no, he ended up driving you both to a cute little cafe he'd heard about in SoHo. A place that, even from the outside, oozed with a charming aesthetic. 

The two of you sat there, pointing out every single detail of the sonogram pictures, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the tiny feet, tiny hands, and the itty bitty, adorable body that belonged to your baby. . . You had never seen something so beautiful. You were sure of it.

And after that, you’d taken some time to catch up. You’d talked about him and Elsie, Elsie and her travels, and the fact that you’d started going to therapy. (Next to the baby, he was most excited about this.)

All you’d ordered was a Sprite since you weren’t feeling the most hungry as of late. Josh had followed in your lead and only ordered drinks as well. Honey tea and a glass of water. He’d made sure to tell the waitress to grab you a water, too. 

And after a quick trip to the bathroom to relieve your ever-aching bladder, you were back at the table. 

Back at a table where Josh was giving you a look. His eyes were narrowed, a mischievous grin turning his lips up to show a dimple in his cheek.

Just as you’d sat down, the waitress was bringing Josh a new, piping hot tea, since he'd (apparently) already finished the first. 

And then, as soon as she was gone, he was talking.

“I sort of had a weird inkling of something going on. . .,” Josh noted as he stirred, then took a long swig of his tea, steam still emitting from the top. “Goddammit!” He gasped, a pained expression painting his features, as he coughed over the warm temperature of the beverage. “Hot hot hot hot,” he repeated to himself, finding his ice water and taking an even longer swig.

You couldn’t help the burst of laughter that bloomed in your chest, flying past your lips as he continued to down the water. All you got in response was him flipping you off with one long digit, and a wrinkle, knitting his brow.

The sinking feeling in your stomach couldn’t be ignored, though. . . you’d heard what he initially said. How had he known? God. . . how long? Your mind was a frenzy as you forced yourself to stop laughing to focus on the serious subject matter at hand.

“How?”

“Well, y/n,” he replied smartly, motioning to the cup. “It just came from the pot, I’m sure. Don’t you see the damned thing is steaming? Why did I even take a–?”

“No,” you stopped his rambling to clarify your question. “How did you . . .? Did you seriously know?” As you were still air-quoting the last few words, he was already nodding his head to answer you. “How? Why? What did we do wrong? I-I mean- God. Do Sam and Danny know, too?”

“Now, I didn’t say I knew,” he corrected you, feeling at the sides of the mug to test the temperature. And, yet again, he was met with the scorching temperature, thus hissing and placing his hands around the plastic of the water cup. “In essence, I said I had an idea. And you didn’t do anything wrong. I just– he’s my fucking twin, y/n,” he set you with a stare that said ‘Remember?! Can’t fool me!’, before he continued. “And where you’re concerned. . . I know you very well. You’ve been my best friend for several years. . ." he reminded you. "Oh, and I’m also a fucking empath. Which you, my dear, were the first one to ever point out my empathic tendencies. . .,” he winked at you with a grin on his full lips. “You should’ve known you couldn’t keep that shit from me. Not without me getting suspicious as hell.”

“Are you mad?”

He stuck his lip out, looking down at the tea, running his finger tip along the rim of the mug before he wrapped his hands around it again. Apparently not at a burning temperature anymore, he decided to bring the cup up to his lips, pinky up as he gripped the handle. This time, he closed his eyes in relief at the taste of the honeyed tea on his tongue. When he placed it back down, he continued watching it, lips still pushed out in a pout as he shook his head, brow wrinkled.

“Nah,” was all he supplied, his eyes hyper focused on the white ceramic mug.

Of course, you were not convinced. “Josh. Look at me.”

When his eyes slowly slid up to find yours, you found at least one reason he hadn’t been looking at you. There were wet pools accumulating in the ducts of his deep brown eyes. He breathed in deeply, his chest expanding with the giant breath before he blew it out, a lone tear making its way down his cheek. 

“I–,” he started, shaking his head and messing with the front of his curly mop of hair. He dropped his hand to tap against the table. “It’s not that I’m mad. It’s really hard to make me mad. I’m more mad at Jake. He makes me mad very easily when he wants. Because I know he can do better. . . Like starting this with you and not having the balls to see it through and leaving you with a baby in your belly.” It was as if the steam had been transferred from his cup to his ears, his nostrils were flaring as he shook his head and squinted his eyes shut. 

Damn, he and Jake look very similar when they get angry, you suddenly discovered.

“And now, he’s just been fucking Maya while you’ve had to deal with–.”

The tears came instantly. Your vision was blurry before you were even able to process that the tears were there. 

“Oh my god, y/n. I’m so– fuck. I’m sorry,” Josh tried, his tone willing you to hear him out. 

You blinked furiously, covering your eyes with one hand. But, finding it useless to try to hide the tears, you just let them fall freely as you now took deep breaths, your eyes piercing through the window of the cafe. “Can we please not–?”

“Y-yeah, Goddammit,” he nervously fluffed the front of his hair. “Y/n, please look at me.”

Forcing your eyes away from the clear autumn sky, you found his eyes, earnestly begging for you to listen to him. “He wasn’t– he hasn’t– I don’t–,” he growled under his breath, reaching forward for your hand. Which you only stared at until he spoke next. “Please, just take my hand.”

So, you did as he asked and looked at him with desperately sad eyes. 

He watched you carefully for a few minutes, letting the tears leave as he reassured you and apologized a couple more times. 

He cleared his throat, blinking his eyes a few times before apparently deciding on a new conversation. “When did you guys begin. . .?”

You knew he was asking when you’d started fucking his brother. But he obviously wasn’t going to say it. 

Nice turn in conversation, Josh.

“It’s complicated,” you offered wetly, not in the mood to talk.

He hummed, before raising a brow with searching eyes. He was trying to get through to you. “Was it that night at Baby’s All Right?”

How the fuck did he know that–?

But, like you said, it was more complicated–because, no, it really didn’t start at Baby’s. 

“Technically," you sniffled, swiping a finger, then a thumb under both of your eyes. "It started before and after that night. It was a long, drawn out thing that shouldn’t have ever started.”

Instantly, you felt guilty. 

The words felt wrong to say. . .the first thing coming to your mind – the baby. 

If it hadn’t started, you wouldn’t have the baby. The sweet little bean in your belly with a beautiful, beating heart. You placed a steady hand against your tummy to make up for the harsh words. 

And the second thing. . . you couldn’t begin to imagine never getting to be that close to Jake. . . you were grateful it had started. . . But you also hated yourself for ever letting yourself get so tied up in Jake Kiszka.

Figuratively and literally. God. Stupid.

“Yes, it should have,” he affirmed, your eyes flickering to him. “For my niece or nephew alone.”

“You’re right,” you agreed, eyes filling with more tears at the conversation and the spiraling thoughts in your mind. “But, I guess, if we are getting technical. . .," you sniffed. "It started that night he left the venue so pissed and you were equally as pissed with him.”

He seemed to think on that for a second or two, trying to go back to the night to which you were referring. Once he finally found it, his eyes lit up with a twitch on his lips. 

“He was mad that night,” he remembered, his hand squeezing yours. You decided to pull yours away from his as you felt it beginning to perspire. Wiped them on your pants, waiting for him to continue. “And now I know why. You weren’t there.”

“Essentially, yes,” you confirmed with a tilt of your head. You couldn't help but snicker with the next part. “It started when I got home.”

Josh’s lips stretched to the point that his eyes bulged and his cheeks puffed out. He blew out a breath while his eyes stayed huge. “And that is all I need to know about that night.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his expression and his words, to which he lightened with you, falling into a soft moment of laughter alongside you. 

When the humor died down, he took the initiative to speak. And you let him. You really weren’t feeling like talking. The smells of the cafe, for one, were starting to make your stomach turn. “I could’ve guessed that it started around that time,” he began. You quirked a brow, asking him to explain further. “He . . . he changed around that time.” You didn’t speak, which told him to continue. “You see, when he first got to New York, he was so fucking surly and rude. He wasn’t just like that with you, mama. He was short as hell with me, too. And the other guys got his bad side – especially Sammy. His heart was broken and he didn’t know how to handle his shit. He started coming back into himself around that time, though. . .Middle of summer. He sort of peaked around the middle of summer. And if I am doing the math right. . . that is when it was happening?”

You nodded an affirmation, impressed by the quick math. 

“Yeah, he was Jake again,” he expressed, eyes tearing up again. “He was joyful for the first time in years. I hadn’t seen him act so freely and fun since before he and Amelia started dating. There was always something stopping him when he was with her – she was stopping him. But you. . . you must’ve encouraged him to be himself. You didn’t turn down the challenge. You took a chance on my brother.”

After considering the words, the lightbulb appeared above your head. That conversation the day in the record shop. The same day you’d played over and over again to convince yourself out of being with Jake. You’d focused on the other words so much that you’d forgotten all about the positive things–the possibilities that had been discussed that day.

You remembered it now. You'd been talking about high school. And how Jake had sort of decided to fuck all when Josh hadn't. . . and it had turned into you bringing up your love of a challenge. 

Josh had nodded, lips turned down, his eyes still holding a little glint. “Yup. Get my point now?”

“Yeah, but like I just said, I’m not one to turn down a challenge. Just like you, Josh. And your brother. . .I’ve learned he is nothing if not a challenge.” 

He had nodded, knowing you were right. And he’d known you long enough to know that you did indeed enjoy overcoming any problem life may hand you.

God, what had happened to you? Where had the desire to accomplish challenges gone?

Why had you given up? Had you given him up? Or had you simply been done with that challenge? Had Jake just been ready to fly? Had you done what was best?

But, you sidelined those thoughts and decided there were more important matters at hand. Like Josh telling you more about how he was feeling.

“So. . . you’re not hurt?” You asked, your voice hoarse from not talking. You cleared it, and tried again. “You’re not hurt?”

“A little, I guess,” he nodded, eyes studying you.

“That’s fair,” you encouraged – glad he was sharing his heart. “I’m sorry for not telling you. But I just kept hearing your voice in my head–that same day we talked about challenges– that same day you’d told me something and it repeated itself over and over to the point that I tried to resist things happening with Jake. Mostly for you, Josh. I didn’t want to betray you. Didn't want him to betray his dreams. But then it just became something bigger that I couldn’t control. It was . . . different than anything else I’ve ever experienced. I couldn’t stop it from happening.”

“Did you want to stop it?”

“I tried to convince myself that I wanted to . . . but I never did. Not really. I wanted him the whole time, but I felt wrong for it. I was totally disregarding what you’d said to me. . . Going against your wishes for him.”

His eyes got big as he took another sip of his tea, that at this point, was probably lukewarm. But if it was, his face didn’t show it. He licked at his lips and peered at you pensively, curiously. “God, y/n. I’m sorry. What did I even say? I don’t remember,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I hate that my words have been just fuckin’ tormenting you, mama. I’m so sorry.”

“No,” you said, pointing your finger at him, your eyes serious to communicate your point. “You don’t be sorry. I’m the one who was in the wrong. Not even Jake, necessarily,” you included the last part, just on Jake’s behalf. “I was the one who did it even after you’d confided in me that you were happy Jake was getting to live life for himself for the first time – without having to worry about being hung up on a girl. And, then I just let myself be that girl you didn’t want for him – I was the girl to get in his way while he should’ve been living for himself.”

“In the spirit of fairness, though, I told him that he needed to take a break from women. He didn’t listen to me either. Well, sort of. . . he actually did follow my advice, I guess,” he encouraged, his eyes searching yours. “Because I also told him that I wanted him to think of what he wanted first.” His tone lifted as he winked at you. 

Your brow wrinkled . . . what was he trying to say? 

He continued, “Which, I guess, my dear, after the dream . . . was you.”

Feeling suddenly lightheaded and loopy with Josh’s words, you let them settle for a minute or two before saying anything more. 

And, the waitress had perfect timing. She filled the open air by asking if you needed anything. First time she’d been back in a hot damn second. Josh asked for a new tea, and you asked for another glass of Sprite. 

All that you could think in that moment was that you really had been the opposite of the right thing for Jake. So, you decided to speak your mind.

“But. . . no,” you declined his words, shaking your head. “No, Josh. He didn’t put himself first – he had a woman – me – that he was focused on instead of learning himself.”

He took a bit to consider your words, his eyes squinted at you as he pursed his lips. The waitress came back to the table as the conversation lulled for his response. 

As soon as she left, though, the two of you were back to it.

“Y/n,” he began, his lips growing into a sure smile. His hands came to clasp in front of him, his hair bouncing with each disbelieving shake of his head. “He did. He moved here. He started pursuing the dream. He got a job he loved by teaching lessons.” Thus meeting Maya, you snarkily thought. “He did put himself first. Did all of that, and then he pursued you.”

. . . you hadn’t really thought of it that way. Not once had you considered that. 

God. What if you’d told Josh a long time ago? Chances were, he would’ve eased your fears and worries. . . but instead, you’d assumed he’d think the worst and let your thoughts derail. 

Would you even be in the predicament you were today? 

You knew the answer. The answer was most likely no. You wouldn’t have the baby because there would’ve never been a night - the night - to relieve your Jake-induced stress. Because you would have already taken the time to talk to Josh. . . He would have reassured you before you even had time to ever get to that depressive point.

Would he have convinced you to be with Jake? 

You didn’t know. . . but. . . it was too late now. 

You were where you were now and there was nothing you could do about it. 

And none of this ever worked in how Maya had already been in the picture – maybe she had been part of the reason he became happier in the middle of summer.

In the end, she could be the one to thank for this– it could most definitely not be you. The sad truth of the matter was, she had probably been filling his cup all along. . .while he was filling yours.

While you were letting yourself get tangled in him, he was feeling the same emotions. . . but for her. Because, in the end, she was easier than you.

You couldn't find it in good conscience to be with him anyway.

Because, well, you still wouldn’t have wanted to distract him from his dream with a relationship. His dream was too valuable to possibly table for you. You were too much of a mess that he could get distracted by, rather than taking the time to fulfill his dream.

She freed up his time with her carefree nature. And you only infiltrated his time with your darkness. She was sunshine, brightening up his paths.

You had to figure you out before you could ever make someone as happy as Maya made Jake. 

Before you had this baby.

However the tables turned, they had already turned. And it was too late to go back and change anything now. You weren’t even sure what you would change–or what you would think if you could turn back time. There was too much filling up your brain–your life– to make the wisest decision. 

It didn’t matter anyway.

So, you told Josh all you could think to say. The same words you’d thrown nastily in Jake’s face, you threw harshly in your own.

“Well, I guess I served my purpose.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

When Josh pulled your car into your space, Jake’s was nowhere to be found. As always, you couldn't help but wonder where he was. He hadn't worked today so he was probably with-.

“I really am most mad at my brother.”

“Try not to be,” you encouraged lamely. You really didn’t care too much about him being angry at anyone right now. . . all you really cared about was getting upstairs to your bed to take a nice, long nap. It had been a day. 

“I’m going to be for a whi–.”

Tap tap tap.

Both of your eyes turned to Josh’s window. Outside of the driver’s side was Jake. You could see all the way down his loose shirt. It was open and tempting his tanned skin and firm chest, while his necklaces hung loosely in front of him, as he was bent over to peek into the car.

But. . . you could see the heated glare from his eyes, even through the tint of his Ray-Bans. His nostrils were flared and his lips had curled into a faux smirk. 

When Josh rolled his window down, you heard Jake's breathy chuckles that had no indication of anything truly humorous behind them. They sounded more bitter than anything else. 

“What have you two been up to?” he questioned, the inflection on the word ‘you’ paired with his snide tone told you he was probably less than thrilled to see you and Josh together. Alone, at that. 

But why? Why the fuck would he care?

You were struck completely motionless and silent, feeling nauseous again, desperately trying to swallow down that all too familiar sensation. But this time, it wasn’t due to the hormones wreaking havoc in your tummy, it was Jake’s presence at this incredibly horrid time that had your belly flipping in slow motion somersaults. 

Josh huffed a laugh that nearly replicated Jake’s. Mimicking his twin to further his irritation, no doubt. You knew Josh was in no mood to put up with Jake’s piss-poor attitude, especially given everything he had discovered. You were tightly holding your breath at whatever the hell could possibly come from Josh's mouth, hoping that he would say as little as possible.

“Funny that you should ask, Jacob,” Josh retorted. He turned his head to the left to make eye contact with his twin, his fingers were still gripped to the steering wheel with a force that turned his knuckles stark white.

What was he about to say? Shit. He knew better. . . right?

“Because," Josh began. "I don’t exactly believe it’s any of your business what we're doing. In fact, I know it’s none of your business.”

Ironic. . . because it most definitely was his business. He just didn’t know it. Not yet.

He flashed Jake his classic Josh grin, extra wide with eyes squinted, an extra, added dramatic flair of his fluttering eyelashes to seal his condescending statement. 

You let out the breath you had been holding, thankful that Josh kept from saying too much. This was not how you wanted Jake to find out. Although, you still had no idea when or how you would approach that. 

All you knew for sure, was that this wasn’t the right time. 

Jake had stood firm the entire time, a brow raised with an obviously fake grin that held his lips in a tight line. His first response was a snicker through his nose and a patronizing simper, just shy of a full on scowl. 

“‘Kay, got it,” he sneered. Then, he was patting the side of the driver's door with his opened palm before swiftly turning on his heel to walk away. He forcibly shoved his hands in the front pockets of his black jeans as he sauntered off, and you couldn’t help but notice how it stretched the fabric even tighter against his perfectly, rounded ass. A sight you still fawned over, admittedly. 

How could you not?

But you broke your gaze quickly once Josh turned to face you once again. Even though he finally knew about the special addition that you shared with his brother, you’d still feel awkward (and a little guilty) as fuck if he watched you gawk over him so openly. Especially on a day so sensitive as today.

Josh had let out an exasperated sigh deep from his lungs, his jaw clenched and hard when he finally shut the humming engine off. “I have so much that I want to say to him,” he muttered, mostly to himself as his tone was hushed.

Yeah. Me fucking too, you thought to yourself. Don’t you think I get it?

Without the engine running, the car had become dead silent. The type of silence that allowed you to hear the rapid beating of your own heart clearly in your ears. (You even thought for a moment that you could hear Josh’s, too. That kind of quiet. Like earlier. Right after you'd told him.)

It gave you time to ponder. . . Despite his incredible response to all of this today, you still worried. Because, for the first time in the literal years of having Josh as your safe haven, you feared that things could have changed far too much for him to ever look at you the same again.

But then, your never ending train of overthinking was put to a halt when he placed a loving hand on your knee. When his warm eyes connected with yours, they reassured you that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere. At least not anytime soon.

“You ready to go inside, mama?” 

His sweet smile that you had loved for years lit up his once hard features. Seeing the signature grin lifted some weight off your heavy shoulders.

You nodded your head and unbuckled your seatbelt as he did the same. But as you lifted the latch on the passenger door, another thought began clouding your mind, a question that you felt you needed to ask someone. That you needed to ask Josh.

“Hey. . .,” you started as he already had one foot out the door.

He stalled his movements and promptly turned his head to face you. 

“Yeah?” he answered, the same smile still cocked in the corner of his mouth.

“When should I tell him?”

He situated himself back inside, resting his back against the dark leather. His eyes were cast on yours, soft and kind as you’d always known them to be, yet a seriousness found within them. 

“That’s up to you, mama. You have to decide when the time feels right.” His gentle hand reached to grab your shoulder in a reassuring gesture, effectively pulling you away from your burdening thoughts. 

Once you’d finally made your way out of the car, you heard him clear his throat and looked to see what else he had to say. He was squinting at you through the autumn day’s rays when he finished the line of thought he’d started in the car.

“But. . . knowing my twin, he’d want to know sooner rather than later. Don’t wait too long, love. He’s got a good heart, you know that. Give him the chance to step up like I know he will.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Friday, November 11, 2022

You’d missed the show completely. As you knew you would. 

Josh had known you were going to show up later than usual since your school work was (quite actually) burying you. Specifically, it was thanks to a 20-page paper that was due tonight. 

Thankfully, you’d been able to finish it in time to at least meet the boys at the bar (smoke free, Josh had clarified on the phone) they’d decided to hang out at after the show. You hadn’t hung out with them after a show in forever. Hadn’t even been to a show in. . .well, you didn’t even know how long.

The reason could be mostly chalked up to your intense homework load this semester, but part of you knew you’d also been trying to avoid them due to the addition of Maya. 

It just didn’t feel the same anymore. And you knew you couldn’t force yourself to pretend. So, the extra school work turned out to be a pretty good excuse. At least you weren’t fabricating anything when you’d told them you couldn’t make it. (Although you would prefer if you didn’t have so much fucking homework.)

But you did miss watching Jake perform. You missed the faces he’d make while playing his guitar, the ones that so closely resembled the one’s he’d make with you. The way he’d thrust himself into his beloved instrument, or pull it close to his body with a force that left your head reeling and your body in dire need for him. 

As much as you missed all of that, something you missed even more was witnessing how his passion exuded through his entire body while he played. How his love for his art was so wonderfully evident as he put so much of himself into every song he played. 

And with the way your body kept betraying you – literally pulsing with desire for him anytime he was simply near you . . . to the point of needing to relieve yourself with your hands or a toy. . . You were weak as fuck. You figured it probably wasn’t the best idea to watch him perform like that with your hormones going ballistic.  

Too many factors worked together to make you feel rather uncomfortable about being near him in that capacity. But. . . here you were. Waiting at the bar for them to arrive. 

Putting yourself in a situation where he’d inevitably be near – sitting at the same booth as you, most likely. Admittedly, it wasn’t your most incredible idea. But Josh telling you the other guys had been missing you made you realize how badly you’d missed them. 

So. Here you were. Scrolling on pregnant influencers’ Instagram pages for helpful tips and testimonials (and occasionally Jake’s page, just to torture yourself) as you waited for them.

Just as you’d thought to send Josh a text letting him know you were at the bar and sitting at a booth near the back, you felt the urge to pee like no other. Your belly had sort of popped in the few days that had transpired since your first ultrasound. You were learning that twelve weeks on your body was the. . . rounder version of twelve weeks. . . Which was not working in your favor to hide your changing body. 

Thankfully, the rest of your body looked mostly the same as normal – save for your boobs which were still about as big as they were in your Shining twin costume (not growing too much more yet, but continuing to be sore as hell). They weren’t giant, per se, but they definitely looked noticeably bigger and felt fucking heavy.

So, you were officially having to wear looser-fitting clothing to avoid anyone looking at you differently. To be fair, to most eyes, it probably would've looked like some weight gain around your midsection if you wore normal clothing. But to you, it literally just looked like you were pregnant. 

You were definitely getting used to waking up every morning to a body that looked just a little different than the day before. Noticed every little change—but they didn’t feel little to you. . . Anything that changed felt massive to you.  

. . .Hence why you were being overly cautious with the giant sweaters. . . Because, to you, it looked so obviously different that you didn’t want to risk people thinking anything or asking any questions.

And, thanks to your newly expanding uterus and a spike in your progesterone (according to your Ovia app), you were beginning to actually wiggle in your seat from the urge to pee. It was all rather unkind on your poor bladder. . .  You had to fucking relieve yourself soon or you would be peeing your leggings. It would be embarrassing as hell to pee yourself and smell like it for the entire evening.

Though, you realized, as people started filtering in, that you couldn’t get up to pee. . . It was too much of a risk that you’d lose the one big booth to this hastily growing Friday night crowd.

Just as you’d started contemplating your lack of options, a particular laugh you’d gotten (unfortunately) used to, made its way through the crowded bar. Your eyes zoomed to the dark haired, caramel-skinned beauty who’d taken up residence in Jake’s life. 

Maya. 

Her laugh was just as beautiful as she was. . . Directing every eye in the front of the establishment to her as they joined in on whatever she was laughing about. She was a force to be reckoned with and it was obvious anytime you saw her. You were pretty sure you could see her chocolate eyes actually sparkling, all the way from across the bar.

Then, here you were in a giant ass Pratt hoodie with plain black, ratty leggings and your white Chucks. Feeling bloated and gross. . . And still needing to really fucking pee. So you had to put your insecurities to the side and get up from the spot you’d effectively heated up for the last twenty minutes because your one and only solution had just walked in. 

You didn’t want to walk away and lose your spot, so you did the only thing you could think to do. 

“Maya!” You called in her direction, tucking your phone into your hoodie pocket with one hand while the other waved at her. An incredibly forced smile was plastered to your face. 

Is this the first time I’ve ever spoken to her? You wondered briefly. 

Even though you knew the answer. 

Yes, definitely the first time I’ve ever talked to her. Weird. And funny fucking cause for it, too, you giggled to yourself, just behind your close-mouthed grin.

It was as if she’d already seen you, because she looked at you with a knowing look. She sent you a (stupid) wink and a (stupid, yet admittedly kind) wave, along with a wide smile—bright white teeth complimented by her full lips. 

Standing up had caused your bladder to go into emergency mode—a sensation similar to nearly bursting was the only way you could describe it. And, strangely, you suddenly felt sort of dizzy from the overwhelming pressure. 

That’s odd, you thought absently, brows wrinkling ever so slightly with the feeling. Ignoring it, you kept waving. And, the smile slipped from your face as you urgently motioned her over. Getting the hint, she said goodbye to the few patrons she’d been talking with and made her way to you. 

Long, wavy hair, inky as the night sky, flowed in waves around her shoulders as she sweetly pushed through people on the way to the booth. 

Every man she passed had to do a double take, watching her as she passed by them. . . You didn’t blame them. She was a fucking dream. (And you hated it.)

Body positively snatched and voluptuous in her all-black outfit. Her large breasts, exposed just right in her extremely low-cut black shirt. The shirt dipped all the way to the middle of her rib cage, exposing a lot of her perfect, perky breasts and tight abdomen. The tiny waist just below the dip was intimidating at best and had you feeling extremely self conscious of your nearly non-existent waist (thanks to the tiny friend living inside of you). You were glad you couldn’t see her ass, because you knew the exquisitely round part of her would have you heading for the door rather than the restroom. 

God, why did she have to look like a damn model? It was the worst possible thing for you. You were sure of it.

Once she was finally at the table, you didn’t want to stand there and stare at her. She had you feeling ready to jump out of your unfamiliar, changing body. Made you feel like nothing, just by standing there.

And, most importantly, you were nearing the risk of peeing with a singular movement at this point. You really weren’t sure how you’d make it to the restroom, but you had to try. 

You were already toeing around the table, out of the booth, when you spoke to her, averting your eyes and finding the restroom sign instead. “I’ve gotta pee really fucking bad,” you hastily said, taking the final step from the back of the booth. “Can you save this table for me so we have a place to sit?”

“We?” She questioned. “Y/n, I would definitely normally save it for you and your friends, but I have to work on finding my own place since I’m waiting here for Jake and the—.”

“Jake and the guys, I know.” You snapped, eyes flashing as you finished for her, not focusing on your facial expression. You were almost positive you rolled your eyes at her comment. 

Does she not know? Why? Did no one tell her?

Bouncing on the heels of your feet, back and forth, you quickly continued. Matter at hand. “I’m here to hang with you guys, too, but I’ve gotta—.”

“Pee!” She finished, a giggle that was probably supposed to be cute left her lips. “Go! I’ll save it. Go, go, go!” 

You were already walking away with her last sentence, hearing her from behind your back as you focused on not wetting your pants on the way to the ladies room. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

When you got back out, you were instantly met with the sight of all of the guys at the back booth you’d saved.

Your eyes, sadly, found Jake and Maya first – sitting practically on top of each other in the back corner of the booth. She was wrapped up in Jake, while engaging in a conversation with Sam. And, even though she seemed to only be halfway listening, Sammy kept on talking like she was interested in only him. 

But with the way Jake’s hand toyed with the hair over her shoulder and eventually traveled to squeeze (and hold) her waist. . . you knew why she wasn’t fully listening. Sammy would not be getting her full attention any time soon, and you knew that from personal experience. If it were you Jake was playing with like that, you would have tuned Sam completely out. 

Pushing any emotion down that threatened to boil up to the surface, you kept on walking to the booth. 

And when you got close enough, all of the attention was suddenly on you. The first one to notice you was Danny, who got up from his end seat on the booth to greet you with a giant hug. You sank into him, feeling all of the love that he was emitting sink into your sore body. 

Then, Sam was loudly exclaiming your presence, telling you that he was waiting for his own hug. 

You went around the three brothers who wanted to give you a squeeze. 

Sam hugged you especially hard, making your boobs ache like no other when he pressed hard against you. Gratefully, Josh had been paying attention when you caught his eye with a pained expression and had loudly determined that it was his turn.

After Josh had grasped you from Sam and given a loose hug, you stood awkwardly. Waiting. But for what?

But. . .you knew what. . .knew why.

It was Jake’s turn. 

Though, all you got was a little close-lipped smile and a half-wave with a head nod from his spot next to his supermodel girlfriend. 

You reciprocated with essentially the same response, your stomach falling to your feet as you did so. It was ludicrous to think he’d get up for a hug, too. Especially with Maya sitting next to him with her perfectly-fucking-manicured hand clutching the inside of his thigh. 

God, you needed to feel him close to you, though. You needed your hand on his inner thigh, dangerously close to a place on his body that’d been so accustomed to yours. You couldn’t help the way you yearned for him to be inside of you again. . . It was fucking embarrassing as hell.

And, then there was an incredibly intrusive thought. 

It told you that, for some (strange) reason, the idea of his pecs pressing into your sore breasts. . .sounded extremely appealing. (And the thought of his hands or his warm, wet mouth on them? Fuck.) 

But— you knew at this point, there was a fat chance of that ever happening.

He didn’t want you near him like that. And definitely not his hands or mouth on you. So you were sure he did not want a measly hug either.

And right now? In this bar? At this exact time? Obviously-fucking-not. Why would he move away from perfection? For you? In your frumpy-ass outfit? As you glanced down self-consciously, you even noticed one white sock peeking way higher than the other from your high-tops. 

Small details. Small details that showed how much of a fucking mess you were in comparison to her.

When you heard his laugh cut through the wave of emotion you were feeling, you looked back up at him. Only to see that he was engaged with Maya and Sam in some (apparently) hilarious conversation. 

He didn’t give two shits about you that way anymore. Why would he?

The terrible things you’d said to him in the kitchen were the first reason that came to your mind. Haunted you everyday, reminding you that you didn’t deserve his attention. 

You bet she, in her utter perfection and 'sunshiney' ways, would never tell him the things you had. He was probably relishing in the mental break she provided him. A break from the emotional thunderstorm that was you. 

But what the two lovebirds didn’t know was that you were carrying a part of him within you that she couldn’t do a thing about. No matter what she was to him, she didn’t have what you did. 

Though, the depressing truth of the matter was even if you were carrying his baby, Maya was still the one falling asleep next to him more nights than not. You had a piece of him, yes, but she had all of him. 

Fuck. That felt selfish. Without even thinking about it, you brought your hands up to your stomach as an effort to apologize to the little lemon-sized baby in your tummy. 

You are enough for me, you desperately thought, looking down, hoping to translate the words somehow to your unborn bundle of hope. You give me plenty of joy. 

“Y/n,” Josh spoke, breaking you from your reverie. 

“Mmm?” You hummed.

Then he was leaning over, whispering so quietly in your ear. “You’re about to give particular notice to your stomach.”

Shit. You instantly dropped your hand, looking around to make sure no one had noticed. 

Thankfully, no one had. 

You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to your best friend, and scooted into the space he and Daniel had left for you, between them, on their side. 

Sitting again helped to balance you, as the dizziness from earlier kept coming back in tiny spurts. You didn’t know what it was all about, but you knew it was probably something attributed to pregnancy. It was probably something normal that you didn’t need to be worried about. 

But, you figured having someone to lean on would help to keep you steady. So, you found Josh’s shoulder, pressing against him. It was more than necessary, so you let your shoulder lazily lay against his arm. The closeness to a safe person felt overwhelmingly comforting in the otherwise emotionally-wrought headspace you were experiencing. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

About an hour later, you found yourself humming along to the music that had gotten progressively louder over the time you’d been sitting with the guys. Getting lost in the melodies felt nice. And you’d noticed, walking in that night, that it was soul music night, according to the sign on the front door of the bar.

Your favorite.

After sitting with them for only a few minutes, making small talk with Sam and Danny to catch up, you’d essentially let yourself become an observer. You’d just listened to them talk about all of these new, sudden opportunities that were coming around for them.

So much was changing. 

They were essentially done with the smaller gigs. Their label’s management had put their foot down that they were done with those. They wanted them going to more popular, reputable places to get their name out there. The label had taken it upon themselves to work with their manager to put them in bigger venues. They’d even begun advertising the boys with promotional pictures and posters all over active streets in Brooklyn.

“We’ve had photoshoots, y/n,” Sam had boasted in wonder at one point, making sure to involve you in the conversation. “Photoshoots! Like, real rockstar things.”

“‘S fucking nuts,” Daniel agreed, nodding beside you, sending you a small smile. “People working on wardrobe for us and all that shit.”

“Well, you are rockstars,” you told Sammy genuinely, letting your eyes skate to each of the boys (save for one). But, when you finished your statement, you let your eyes find him. And his eyes literally melted into yours. Like he’d been waiting for you to acknowledge him. “You’ve been ready for this for a long time. I’m just glad you are finally getting to live it.”

But you tore your gaze away before it could become too much. Though, the snicker you heard from Maya made your eyes cut to her. You forced yourself to hold your tongue. Didn’t trust yourself with what might come out of your mouth. What had her feeling all bitter and shit? She didn’t get the fucking half of it.

That particular thought had your hands falling to clasp tightly against your tummy, thankfully hidden by the table. 

They’d also begun working on their first album (which you knew about), but its release date had officially been set in stone for May. It was daunting for you and felt huge to you, so you couldn’t imagine how it felt for them. 

It was all moving so fast. . . Which, if you were being honest, terrified you for what was to come in the near future. The little bean that was set to arrive around the time of the album’s release. Because of all of your recent . . .changes, it just felt like a terrible time for things to feel so unsure and abnormal. 

You knew it was selfish to feel that way. You did. It was just impossible to not feel worried and anxious. 

The stress inevitably started climbing up into your upper back, creating tension. And, Josh, being Josh, must’ve sensed a change in your demeanor. He’d wrapped his arm around your shoulders when you started feeling all bunched up and jittery. You’d leaned into it, needing the incredible amount of comfort in his embrace and presence. 

The music was setting your mind at ease from the tension you felt in your body. It also helped to alleviate the awkward air you felt with the proximity of Jake’s guest. Who sat there looking so beautiful all night. Jake’s arm hadn’t left her shoulders all night, twirling her long waves between his long fingers. You had to look away at several points. It didn’t take long for the sight to become too much. Your ever-present nausea only increased by watching them. 

So you didn’t watch. Didn’t allow yourself to look at him.

You breathed in the music. The music saved you. You just listened to the music. The world was a blur. 

But, when they all joined in on mutual excitement, all smiles and voices getting louder, you tuned back in just slightly.

And when you did, they were talking about one particular thing they were all looking forward to: a special event of sorts that was coming up. 

Apparently it was a huge thing for this event to take place. One final step before embracing the stardom. It would happen in a few months’ time — once the label execs heard a few songs, and released them as singles. Then, they would get to preview them to the public. 

It would be an intimate type of event, more like old times, but for a few semi-important people who worked for the tour management team and whoever else wanted to come. It would be a listening party where the boys would play their new music. And according to the boys, it was the label’s attempt to get an idea of touring being a possibility. 

A lot of it was pinned on if the turnout was good. On how the guys interacted with the crowd. How the performed. . . It would be a sort of audition for the tour management team. 

“I have faith that they’ll love us,” Sammy said, buzzing with excitement. “I’m speaking that shit into existence.” 

The rest of the guys agreed.

Your eyes inadvertently snapped to Jake when he spoke next. “And once we start touring. . .,” he said, grin huge and his eyes shining at the other guys. “That’s when it all becomes fucking real. And it’ll be here before we even know it.”

Your stomach fell.

Josh squeezed your knee after he’d said it, knowing exactly what you were thinking.

Your thoughts were fucking spiraling. Looking down, you closed your eyes to will the tears away— tried your best to be subtle with your bundled up emotions. 

You felt so excited for him. You wanted it for them—for him. All along, you’d wanted him to live his dream. The one he’d had for so long. But the idea of him going off and away. . . All of them being so far away, all of the time, right at the time your life would be inevitably changing for the rest of forever. . . It was a lot to wrap your mind around.

It had your stomach tied in fucking knots—the idea of Jake being a dad, but not getting to be one. Leaving you. Leaving the baby. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, per se, but it was going to hurt like hell. 

You swore, right then and there, that you would not let him give it up for anything. Not a baby, definitely not you (not that he’d want to abandon it for you) — it was the last thing you wanted. The last thing that would happen. 

He would live the dream. Even if you had to force him to do so.

No matter how badly you already knew you’d  want him around during that massively  transformative time. . . You were capable of doing it on your own. And Elsie would help. She would most definitely be around, you already knew. 

But. . . Jake. 

You shoved the thoughts down to the tresses of hell, literally planting your feet flat on the floor to center yourself to present time. Shifting a bit, you laid your head on Josh’s shoulder, letting your eyes drift closed after a while. Didn’t sleep, no, but you felt like you could have. Your body felt loose and weak from the night’s stress slowly leaving your body as you focused on Josh’s steady breathing and the music. 

As the night wore on, the volume had ended up getting so loud that everyone practically had to yell at one another to have a conversation, even within the close confines of the booth. 

So, you had to blink your eyes open at that point. It was too much. The over-stimulation was soon approaching. You could feel it. You felt. . . heavier than normal. Like, you were being pulled down to the earth with exhaustion. Which was new, but probably just over-stimulation.

Even with your eyes open, they were hooded. You were so tired, you felt as though you couldn’t open them much more. And the dizziness from earlier was back with force. 

So you focused on swaying your body a little to the rhythm of each song, tapping out the beat of each on the table. Josh had instinctively begun humming along with you while still managing to keep conversation with everyone else. He’d sneak the occasional smile to give a sign of him remaining loyal to your company as well as the others’.

The melodious harmonies of Stevie Wonder’s "Please Don't Go" had been a surprise, as it was a more unpopular hit of his. It was a welcome distraction to listen to a song you knew well over the speakers, for all ears to hear. Nothing beat hearing songs you loved, playing in public spaces. 

Oh, Stevie. His songs had historically been known to bring you peace. Always had. Always would. Stevie's music never failed to meet you where you were emotionally. This song, not being an exception, and hitting extremely close to home for the present time. . . But still, the tension you’d felt all night began to dissipate, sizzling out almost completely with the beautiful ending of the track.

Just as the heavy weight of your anxieties you’d carried all night had lifted, the next song started to ring throughout the building.

Only this time, the feeling it gave you was a far cry from the previous. 

You knew it instantly. You’d be able to hear this song even if it weren’t blaring throughout the building. 

As soon as the first note sounded, it sent a vibration straight to your heart and a swarm of butterflies (that actually felt more like bees) to your tummy. 

You hadn’t looked at him yet, but you felt Jake’s eyes piercing through you. 

You didn’t want to look at him. Not yet. 

Your hormones had been far too out of whack for that. You knew you’d cry instantly upon seeing his face while this song played at a volume that you now wish was much, much lower.

Aretha’s powerhouse voice repeated it over and over again. 

You’re all I need to get by, you’re all I need to get by, you’re all I need. . .

No, you weren’t looking at Jake. But he was still the only vision clouding your mind’s eye. 

You were back on your living room floor. . . his eyebrows bunched together with each heavy thrust into you, the sweat that accumulated between them, the perspiration and exertion that could only come from real intimacy. . .passion.

And it was plain to see that you were my destiny. . .

His coffee colored eyes that bore into you as his body connected with yours in the most intimate way that it could’ve. 

And when I lose my will, you’ll be there to push me up that hill. . .

How he filled you so completely, stretching you the only way you ever wanted. . . How, in that moment, it felt like he was made to fit you. Your body, your heart, your life.

I don’t know what’s in store, but together we can open any door. . . 

Without even meaning to, your eyes met his. 

And while Maya was going on about whatever she felt the need to talk about, he was watching you. His eyes were extremely thoughtful. . . So much being communicated behind them. 

If you were delusional, you’d even go so far as to say he was admiring you. . . The way his eyes flashed a bit as you watched him, too. 

But you weren’t delusional. 

Though, you just knew that he was thinking the same thing as you. . . He knew. He knew this song was special. 

And as much as you attempted to not wear your emotions, with your condition, it was impossible.

You felt your eyes prick with tears as the song came to an end, and you quickly put your head down for what you knew was coming. And when the small drop hit your cheek, as soon as it appeared, you wiped it away. 

You looked back up, sniffing once and shaking your head.

Why did I have to fucking look?

“God, I wish they’d play music from this century here for once. Or at least something halfway decent,” Maya snickered, her attention on Jake, pulling his gaze away from you with her ignorant remark. “This song could put me straight to sleep. Music like this is meant to be left in the past where it belongs.” 

What the hell? What was even the point? 

What she said had your blood boiling with red hot rage. Of course she had to pick this song to insert her disgusting opinion.

And how was Jake, of all people, in a relationship with someone who thought so little of older music? How did he put up with that shit? It would be really fucking hard to hear things like that all the time if you were in his shoes.

A look of pure disgust washed over Josh’s face, and you knew he wouldn’t take her shit laying down. Not when it came to good, classic soul music. Not to mention, Aretha was one of his biggest vocal inspirations. “How can you not appreciate the Queen of Soul? She paved the way for singers of every genre, her voice is timeless and immaculate. To criticize her is to criticize all music.” 

His defensive tone had everyone silent for an almost uncomfortable amount of time.

You wanted to chime in and let her know that you agreed with everything he said. But you felt it best to keep your mouth shut given the real reason you were so pissed. Didn’t trust your emotions to stay steady enough to get your point across. 

This was personal.

To your shock, it was Jake that ended up breaking the awkward silence at the table. “You know, babe, some of us have some pretty significant memories tied back to music like this,” he asserted, sharply, pulling away from her, dropping his arm from her shoulders to look at her better. “This song specifically. . . At least for me.”

Your heart leapt into your throat at what he was implying. Significant? He couldn’t mean. . .? But then he flashed his eyes to you. And you knew. 

Fuck, Jake. The butterflies let completely loose in your tummy at the implication. At the look. 

He continued, his voice growing softer, while staying assertive. “And it could very possibly be hurtful to others when you say surface level shit like that.”

Maya scoffed, rolling her eyes. This was the first time you’d ever witnessed the woman be something other than a dream. “So I can’t have opinions, hm?” 

“I never said—,” Jake tried, getting interrupted by her continuing. 

She was piercing him with a glare, tone biting. “Did you ever stop to think about how it hurt my feelings when you refused to see 21 Savage with me? And after I got us the tickets, no less?” 

You didn’t mean to snort a small laugh at her words. 

But. . . 21 Savage?!

Thankfully, you weren’t alone in finding amusement in the words as everyone else had a similar response. Sammy spit out the drink he’d just taken, some of it even coming out of his nose. Daniel had clapped a hand over his mouth and dragged it down his face, closing his eyes in the process. 

And Josh turned to you as soon as you turned your sights to him. He made eyes at you, raising his brows with a grin threatening to turn into a laugh. If he could’ve spoken, you assumed he’d say something along the lines of ‘oh, shit.’

Sam was the next to speak, barely able to catch a breath as he wiped the leftover drink from around his mouth with a napkin. “Maya, my dear,” he giggled, the words distorted a little by the wipe of the napkin. “You surely can’t have an emotional connection with his music?”

“Maybe I do,” she retorted, scooting away from Jake a little. Crossing her arms over her cleavage, she eyed Sammy, judgmentally. “Maybe it saw me through some really hard times.”

“Did it?” Danny tried, his face seeming earnest in pursuit to find sense in her music taste. 

“Well,” her eyes found Danny’s, but darted around a bit, still. “Not necessarily. . . But I do enjoy his music. . . Which is my prerogative.”

Josh’s brow was quirked. He stared her down, his face a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “Maya,” he cleared his throat. Her eyes found him, hard and defensive. But it was obvious she was losing some steam. “There is a difference between enjoying music and having it change the entire trajectory of your entire life.”

Before she could sputter out a response, the waiter was back at the head of the table with the two pizzas the guys had ordered. 

“One pepperoni pizza,” she said, placing one giant tray of pizza on the table. 

Your nose immediately picked up on the overwhelming scent of cheese and pepperoni. You had never smelt something so greasy. This was even worse than the greasy smell at Waffle House on the morning you’d gone with Elsie. And where there, you could find some sort of nostalgic comfort in the smell of it. . . there was nothing that could make this pizza’s smell appealing. Fuck.

“And. . .,” Sammy’s excited tone broke through your nauseous reverie. 

You didn’t look up, only watched in near agony as the second pizza, filled with every vegetable in the book, was sat right in front of you. Every fucking vegetable had it’s own special, rancid smell that you hadn’t ever noticed until now. 

Goddamn. And it just got worse as you let your eyes follow a slice that Sam took off the tray, cheese so disgustingly stringy, to his waiting mouth. The way his teeth sunk into the pizza and the oil slipped down his chin. . . You felt the bile rise in the back of your throat at the sight. The dizziness set in again. Then there was the cheese that came to the corner of his mouth as he chewed his first bite with an open mouth. 

Closing your eyes, you tried your best to will it away. 

But you couldn’t. It was too late. Behind your closed eyes, all you could see was the sight again, but this time, in slow motion. . . more and more repulsive with every flash of the image. 

You found Josh’s leg, hitting it repeatedly to indicate that you needed out of the booth. Your other hand, held tightly over your mouth, which felt as though it could explode with projectile vomit at any moment. 

That would be real cute. A really effective way to make Jake look at you. . . but not for the reasons you’d want. 

At. All.

Thankfully, Josh got the hint and quickly scooted out of the booth to allow you out. 

And as soon as your feet hit the concrete floor, you were speeding to the bathroom once more. This time, immediately landing on your knees over the toilet with a hand clutching your hair, as you retched the (very little) contents of your stomach into the toilet.

It was alarming, to say the least, as you saw only clear saliva goo floating around in the bowl. . . no food accompanying the sickness you’d just produced. 

I haven’t eaten today, you thought suddenly, wiping your brow of the sweat that had accumulated. Nothing to puke out because everything sounded vile.

And then the dizziness was setting in again as you rose from your place on the ground.

You really hadn’t been eating much at all. And pickles, being the only thing you could stand to eat, did not give you proper nutrients. You knew that. 

Have to figure something out, you decided as you washed your hands. Disturbingly, you saw four hands instead of two and it was daunting at best. Need to go home and do some research so I can figure out how to fucking eat something.

By the time you got back to the booth, you already had your keys out of your belt bag. 

Josh gave you a sympathetic grin. He mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’ and you just shook your head, reassuring him with a mimicked ‘It’s fine’ in response.

When you snapped your head up from Josh to say bye to the others, you realized that Jake was watching you closely. Pensively. Unsurely. 

You gulped, setting your eyes on him. If only you knew, Jake. . . But, suddenly, anger was flaring in the place of any butterflies. Lack of food and pregnancy could do that to a person. But you don’t know. So quit looking at me. 

“You feelin’ sick, Baby Dragon?” Sam said, breaking you out of your staring contest with Jake.

“Yeah, noticed you weren’t drinking tonight. . . you okay?” Danny interjected. 

“O–Oh, yeah. No, yeah,” you shook your head, which only caused your head to throb. Shit. “Just tired. Exhausted from school.” And from carrying a human life in my uterus. “I wanna get home and rest.”

“I forced her to come tonight,” Josh added. He looked at you before exchanging looks with the other guys, emphasizing his point to help you out. “She has had her nose to the fucking grindstone. I insisted she needed a night out.”

“Forced her?” Jake scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “God, y/n. If you don’t want to come, then don’t come.”

You fumed at his words. What the fuck? Just minutes ago he was jumping to defend your song. “He didn’t force me,” you growled back at him. Don’t test a pregnant woman carrying your goddamn baby, Jacob. “What he meant was that he encouraged me to come since I haven’t been around for a while.”

“And why’s that?” Jake pushed, continuing to jest at you. Is this a game to you, asshole? 

“Jake,” Josh snapped, tone sharp and heated. 

“School,” you asserted (with a partial lie), shutting your eyes when you started seeing two of him. When you opened them to stare back at him, you focused hard as you continued to see four brown eyes instead of two. “But that’s not really any of your business is it, Jake?”

He was silent, his jaw clenching. Then he looked back to Maya, starting a conversation with her, effectively shutting you out. 

You weren’t sure how long you could put up with the hot and cold act from him. You knew that he was hurt, but you preferred the moments in recent times where he’d shown the soft side of his heart. The Jake side of his heart. 

The one flashing through your mind at this moment was on the night of the Halloween party. When he’d picked up the dropped brownies for you and then offered to help you carry stuff to your room. . . albeit he had been drunk. It’d still been him. You knew it. It was something he’d do. . . you knew him. 

And you knew him well enough to know when he was acting like an ass, it meant he was hurt. You weren’t oblivious to the recent hurt you’d inflicted on him. . . but why was he suddenly reacting like this again? Why now?

When another wave of dizziness took you over, you had to once again shut your eyes to keep your balance, and you held tight to the strap of your bag. Your head was also, once again, pulsing.

You opened your eyes and tried to stay steady, as you didn’t want to worry the three who cared. Pulling your phone from the pocket of your oversized hoodie, you shook your keys at the guys who still watched with concerned eyes. 

“Be safe,” Danny offered sympathetically, reaching a hand out. You grasped it, rubbing your thumb over the back. 

As soon as he let go, Sam was up and pulling you into a hug. Once he’d succeeded in killing your boobs again, he held onto your shoulders. “We miss you,” he said, breath thick with alcohol that was making your stomach turn. You held your breath and tapped at his hand politely before scooting back from him. “Love you, y/n.”

You repeated the phrase back to him before Josh got up, presumably to walk you to the door. “I promise I’ll start coming around more often again,” you told them. “I miss you, too.”

And just before you stepped to head toward the exit, you found Jake’s eyes again. 

They were softer now, showing concern he couldn’t hide at your current state. But there was still that fire behind them that you’d learned was purely Jake. And it made your heart thump a little harder in your chest.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The tiredness was unreal. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you were so fucking exhausted. Everything that had been happening recently–the therapy, telling Josh that you were pregnant with his twin’s baby, being pregnant with said baby (and worrying that you weren’t), taking sixteen-fucking-hours of classes. . . it had been a lot. That much was obvious as hell. 

And tonight had been emotionally taxing for sure. . . and knowing you, you knew it was more than extremely possible that the emotions alone had been what’d finally done you in. Drained you for all you were worth.

Well, that, and the lack of food in your system. And the persistent barfing.

You'd been poring over the resources that Dr. Rose had given you access to. And, one of the links on their site had informed you that it was extremely possible for the fatigue to peak around this point of the pregnancy–ten to twelve weeks.

And considering you were right about at 12 or so, it was on the mark.

But when you’d read that, you hadn’t been expecting the feeling to be similar to that of being weighed down to the Earth by heavy-ass lead. You were dying to fall into bed and sleep off the exhaustion–right after taking a measly Tylenol for the pounding headache that’d been burgeoning for the past several minutes. 

All you could do at this specific moment, though, was focus on driving–and pulling into the apartment complex with as much precision as possible. The pain in your head was beginning to make your vision blurry and the things around you waved in ways you knew they weren’t supposed to. Goddamn. 

You finally made it to your parking space–by the grace of some higher entity. But, as soon as you tried to move to get out, everything around you began to spin at an accelerated speed. Moaning, you brought two shaking hands up to your eyes as you closed them. You started to count to ten, trying your best to take deep breaths–but even that was getting hard to do. Fuck. 

Finding your motherfucking bearings was proving to be a task and a half. 

And your head was just fucking throbbing relentlessly. 

“Dammit,” you groaned again, the words slurring just a bit. 

Somehow, though, you were able to make the trek from your car to the complex’s staircase–so close, yet so far, from your place. But you could feel the way your heart was thrumming quickly in your chest—just pounding against your ribcage from the basic action of walking.

Everything began waving around you again. You felt like you were floating and your head was becoming lighter and lighter by the second; the only reminder that it housed a brain was the raging, convulsing feeling in your skull. 

Your vision was incredibly blurry at best, as you looked from the base of the stairs, all the way up to the top. The top of the stairs was hardly visible. 

Shit. How the fuck am I going to climb these steps like this?

But, you weren’t able to contemplate it for much longer before everything started fading more and more, until you felt yourself falling and all you saw was a black abyss.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The hand you felt holding yours was the only thing that weighed you down to the white room. The other things that you immediately noticed: the sound of steady beeping (which was incessant) and the smell of antiseptic and bleach wafting from the bedding. 

The bed itself felt reminiscent of high quality cardboard, but the sheets were warmer than you would’ve expected. 

Letting your body relax back into the warm, polycotton sheets, you began to drift back to wherever you’d been. But you felt something hold you to the present. It was the someone with the hand who was helping to keep you conscious. The thumb that swept purposefully across the back of your hand tied you to the real world before you could escape to the one behind your eyelids.

Then you felt the hand holding yours squeeze the slightest bit tighter. Your lids were heavy when you squinted them open–immediately hating the way the fluorescent lighting assaulted your irises. You didn’t know if it was possible, but you were damned sure you could feel your pupils adjusting to the overbearing beams from the bulbs. 

Moaning, you reached your free hand up to cover your eyes. And when you did, you noticed the influx of tubes, taped to and sticking out of your hand. Specifically, the needle connected directly to your vein. What the fuck was going on?

Amidst your confusion, you finally processed who the hand was connected to as you heard his voice.

“Yes, yes,” Josh said in response to something. You noticed that he was seeming to squeeze your hand in little pulsing intervals. When you squeezed back to indicate you were awake, his eyes were immediately on you, abandoning his conversation. “Y/n? Oh, fuck,” his voice was thick with emotion. His gaze became wet as he checked your face over. “I was so worried about you.”

You didn’t know what to say, since you weren’t really sure why you were here or what had happened to get you here. . . All you could remember was being tired and dizzy with a pounding in your head. 

You tried to speak, but it was in vain, as your throat was dry as fuck. All that came from your lips was a measly croak. But, thankfully, Josh was immediately coming to your rescue with one of the hospital’s giant plastic cups, filled to the brim with water. He held the straw to your lips and you sat up a little to have better leverage to take a drink. To your surprise, the pounding in your head was gone, and there was no dizziness accompanying your movements. 

And no nausea – best part of all.

As soon as the water slipped past your lips, you shut your eyes in utter relief. Water had never tasted so good. You weren’t sure if water even had a taste, but at that moment, you swore it did and that it tasted like liquid gold would. 

Once you’d had enough for the moment, almost draining the large cup, you backed away and leaned into the pillows that awaited behind you. 

Sighing in relief, you tried to say words again. And this time, it worked. “What’s going on?” You slowly spoke, your head still feeling slightly airy. You let your eyes trail to Josh’s, questioning him. “Why am I here?”

Then, you started panicking. You shot up from where you’d settled against the pillows, clutching your stomach. The IV’s connected to your hand pulled at your skin, stinging. You ignored the pain though, and felt your tummy. It was still round, but obviously that didn’t mean– oh no. Your deepest fears came to life in your head, piece by terrifying piece. The baby. 

“Oh, fuck, Josh,” you said, your eyes were wild and immediately drew wetness, which ran steadily down your cheeks. No no no no no. “The baby? Is the baby–? Oh–.”

“Yes, yes,” Josh shushed you, running his free hand over the top of your head. “The baby is fine. Already checked and looks the same as it did a few days ago,” his eyes shone with reassurance. “Nothing is wrong with the baby.”

“Heartbeat?”

“Steady as can be.”

You felt your lungs fill with air again. “Okay,” you breathed out, leaning back into the pillows once more. “Okay.”

“But you on the other hand,” he started, his brow raising and eyes burning into yours. “You need to be giving yourself proper attention, mama.”

“I—?” You shook your head. You knew you weren’t the most attentive to yourself, but you’d tried very hard to be more self-serving recently in some regards. Longer showers, Friends, Cosmic Brownies (RIP) and pickles, therapy (if that counted). . . “I’ve been trying. . .” 

But the vomiting is proving some of that to be impossible, Joshua, you thought silently, snidely.

“What your friend is trying to tell you,” the doctor began. Your eyes shifted to her, an older woman with delicate features whose gray hair was pushed back by a pair of readers. Then her brows wrinkled. “Well—friend? Father of the baby?”

You both spoke at the same time.

“Oh, no—.”

“Not me,” Josh corrected with a laugh, his smile bright and humored underneath his new mustache. “That’s my brother’s baby in there.”

Ridiculously, you began to blush at hearing Josh say it out loud. You were learning that any time it came from his lips, it made your breath catch in your chest just a little.

Jake’s baby. 

“Oh, my apologies,” she smiled, her crows feet wrinkling, voice wise with years of experience. “I just wanted to proceed using the correct title to address you. Speaking of which, I am Dr. Stevens. It’s nice to meet you, Miss y/n.”

“Same to you,” you answered with a tiny, unsure smile and nod. “Thank you.”

Dr. Stevens hummed, then came to sit on the end of the bed, same side as Josh. You eyed her curiously as her expression turned a touch more serious. “Miss y/n,” she said, sounding like you’d imagine a caring mother would. “You are here because your iron was frighteningly low,” she said, concerned and checking your chart. “If it had gone untreated one more night, you would have been incredibly ill and unable to function properly at all come morning.”

“What?” You asked, shocked. Anemia wasn’t a new thing to you, you’d always had it. How had it intensified so quickly? “I mean, sure, I’ve always had mild anemia. Just kind of a thing that’s been there . . .haven’t thought about it in years, actually,” (because of some damn triggering, buried memories attached to it). “But I’ve never had – it’s never been as. . . Intense as this,” you held up your hand that was covered in tape and inserted tubes.

“Well, honey, you’re carrying a baby now who also needs those vital nutrients to help it develop,” she counseled. “And proper hydration,” she reminded. You nodded, eyes zoned in on your hands, full with pieces of plastic and tape, and not her face. When Dr. Stevens spoke next, her voice was the most stern it’d been so far. “And prenatal vitamins– those are essential for you and the baby.”

Your eyes flicked up to hers. The way she pierced you with her stare made you lean back like a scolded puppy. Your tail would have been between your legs if you had one.

Why hadn’t you bought any damned prenatals yet? Fuck all.

“Yes ma’am. I don’t know why I haven’t been taking–,” you tried, huffing. You were ashamed of yourself. “God, I feel bad,” you placed two hands on your tummy and looked down at it through the hospital gown you’d been changed into. “How has all of it not harmed the baby?”

“Well, again, tomorrow would have been a completely different story had you not been rushed in tonight,” she reminded, talking you through it slowly. “But we’ve got fluids pumping through you to get you back to normal.” She motioned to Josh, you looked at him with a small smile that he reciprocated. “And your friend has promised to take you for a prenatal run tomorrow morning. To find the ones that you feel might suit you best.” Dr. Stevens smiled, looking over at your bedside table. Your eyes followed, seeing the small medicine bottle sitting there, waiting for you. “For now, I have a couple ready to send home with you,” she assured.

“I’ve never been the best at prioritizing my health,” you mumbled, messing with a loose thread on the hospital gown. Josh held the hand that was anxiously picking at the material, making you stop. You looked over to see his kind, encouraging eyes. “I have ingrained my brain with several unhealthy, learned habits,” you admitted, finally looking at Dr. Stevens again. “So I guess this was a reality check of sorts. That it’s not just me anymore. I can’t just ignore what I need to acknowledge.”

You didn’t know what was inspiring the constant flow of transparently deep emotions to all of these unknown people in your life, but you weren’t totally opposed to it anymore. 

Dr. Stevens’ face contorted to show that she had sympathy. You were relieved. But when she spoke next, her voice was firm. “You’re right. This baby is forcing you to take care of yourself so he or she can survive and come out healthy and happy. I believe this baby is teaching you some proper life skills. But you need to be eating well to help this child have a good, healthy time in the womb. . .help him or her thrive at this vital stage in its life.”

God. She was right. You had seen the words Failure to Thrive on multiple sources you’d checked out about pregnancy. . . .always just skimmed past them, as it didn’t seem to pertain to you. But, of course it did. The vomiting. Not taking prenatals (seriously, what the fuck, y/n?). The lack of eating anything (save for the baby pickles). . .

You’d been so in your head about the present state of your health that you hadn’t taken nearly enough time to consider the baby. 

“I’ve just never been bad about eating. This is new,” you confided. “And it’s just gotten worse this past week or so. . . I haven’t been able to eat. Everything has made me want to vomit.” Then you decided to add, “Well, everything besides pickles. They’ve been my only source of any nutrients – which I know is pathetic, by the way – I just–just can’t even be in the same room as most food, much less eat it.”

“You’re experiencing a severe case of hyperemesis gravidarum, which is just a fancy way of saying that you’re excessively vomiting during your pregnancy. It’s due to a drastic change in hormones. Your HCG levels are through the roof, where they’re usually not. Most women just have to suffer through it,” she said in response, handing you sheet with the fancy medical term at the top. “That is an information sheet. Keeps you informed on the ins and outs of why you might be experiencing it.” She sighed before going on. “It will pass, honey. Give it a few more weeks and you should be over the worst of it – if not before. But being anemic makes it that much worse,” she explained, flipping her readers over her eyes and looking through the papers on her fancy clipboard. “You’ve just gotta stay on top of those preexisting conditions.”

“And not taking the prenatals. . .,” she scolded, making you look up from scanning the sheet. She gave you a look. “Is what has you in this condition. You should also be taking an additional iron supplement. I’m. . . sure you didn’t tell your OB about your previous anemia?” She wondered aloud. 

“No,” you murmured. “I really haven’t seen it present itself since I was really young. And it wasn’t really severe. . . at least I don’t think,” you rubbed your forehead, suddenly experiencing several sad moments in time. From a long time ago. So, once again, you bared your heart and explained.  “There are things from my childhood that I’ve forgotten. And even though I do actually know I experienced bouts of it during that time, I haven’t ever really acknowledged it because I just kind of forced myself to forget about it.”

Really, for some godforsaken reason, thinking about your anemia only brought back very unwelcome flashes of your mother’s house. . . and other dirty places you didn’t want to think about. Hence why you’d blocked it out.

Josh squeezed your hand– tried to bring you back.

Thankfully, Dr. Stevens continued before the thoughts could take over. “I am sorry, honey,” she said, empathetic. But, she continued on professionally. “The hard truth is that some of the things that have always sort of laid dormant can come back with a raging force during pregnancy. . . simply considering that the pregnancy is essentially a revamp on your body,” she paused when you chuckled at the word ‘revamp’. Yeah, right. She smirked at it, too. “I know, funny word choice. Doesn’t always feel like you’re revamping,” she flipped to the next page in her chart. “What I mean is, things can come back up and be bigger–stronger–than before. One more thing that is changing and increasing in your body. Medical conditions from the past may come back and get more ‘intense’,” she winked at you, using your word from earlier. “But, it’s important: now that the anemia has shown itself again – so aggressively –  at a time that your body is already very vulnerable. . .” She sighed, flipping her readers back into her dark gray hair before unclipping a paper from the chart and handing it to you. “It’s time we get a handle on all of it before it possibly shows its ugly face again.”

The sheet she handed you included several foods that you could eat to remedy the morning sickness. Some of which had made you feel like puking – or actually puke. But, there were a few things you didn’t have at home. Boring, bland foods. Things you just never bought. A few fruits and vegetables. . .

And a shit ton of vitamins.

“A lot of plain Jane stuff on there, I know. And vitamins, vitamins, vitamins,” she acknowledged. “But those supplements and bland diet are what will see you through the dark ages of this morning sickness. We need to treat that first. And then, you should be able to ease yourself into other foods and get your iron levels healthy again for you and your baby. Please focus on following that guide of foods and vitamins and just call my extension – which I attached to the top of that sheet – if you have any issues.” 

She then passed one more sheet over to you and added one more piece of information. “This sheet will include the Hemoglobin Kit I’ve ordered for you and it will be sent to the address your friend provided for us within the next few days. Please be using it to check your hemoglobin levels. Hemoglobin is the main component of red blood cells–a protein– that we need to see at normal levels. I’ve included where your levels should be on that sheet. They should never be too low or too high. Please read the information on the sheet and in the kit to answer any additional questions you may have. This will help you to track of how your levels are doing and if your anemia is spiking again,” she said, her voice seeming to drone on and on in your ears. “And again, call if you have any questions or concerns.”

As you continued reading through the paper, she unclipped another and handed it over to you.

You really were thankful for the documents, really, but dear god there were a lot of them. Virtually and physically. From your OB visit and tonight. It was overwhelming . . . made your skin feel tight and overheated.

It was also a lot of information for you to over-fucking-think. 

I’ll have to take them to Gia. She’ll help me sort through them, you reassured yourself, taking a deep breath in and out to calm the nerves. 

“And the morning sickness should. . . pass sooner rather than later?” Josh’s question broke through your reverie. Your eyes shut to refocus on the present moment and not the papers.

“It should, yes. For most women, it does,” the graying doctor confirmed. “You’re. . .how far along? I’d estimate about eleven, maybe twelve weeks?”

“Yes,” you nodded. “Twelve weeks according to my OB.”

“Yep. You should only have a few weeks – or less – left. Just try the foods on that sheet. The vitamins. Stay hydrated. There are several recommended supplements the sheet provides. You can find most all of them on Amazon.” 

You handed the sheets over to Josh, needing them away from you for the time being. You needed to be in the now. Needed to focus on anything else the aging, wise doctor may need to say. 

To put it plainly, tonight’s event landing you in the hospital had you scared shitless. And learning as much as possible from her would hopefully wind up putting your mind at ease. . . though, at this moment, it just had your heart rate increasing rather quickly.

She eyed the monitor next to your bed, moving closer to it as she observed something. “There goes that heart rate again,” she squinted at the vitals once more before pushing her glasses into her hair. She looked down at her chart, her lips pursing and readers going back on as she checked it over. “That’s another thing I want to address,” she hummed, sitting next to your legs, facing you and Josh from her seat. “Have you been under a lot of stress lately? A major change? Besides the baby? Mentally, perhaps? Emotionally?” She questioned. “Because while your iron levels were scarily low, your heart rate was also dramatically high. Which, yes, is related to the iron levels. . . but, I thought I’d go ahead and check as more often than not, it can pertain to an extreme amount of stress your heart is under from other sources.”

You stuttered out a response that involved you beginning therapy for the first time in years. You tried to touch on how you were experiencing a lot of emotions around what you would eventually be talking about in therapy. . . how you’d already bared your heart to Gia and opened up every single gate possible to effectively begin therapy. 

“I wanted to do it. Still do," you explained, needing Dr. Stevens to know that. “I would do it all over again right now if I needed to. She’s already helped me so much – after only one session, just with me basically projectile vomiting my past and emotions all over the room.” You took a breath, before finishing. “It doesn’t make it any less difficult though. It hurts. Physically, it hurts to talk about it all. I know it will all come together in the end. I trust the process–I trust my therapist. But it was extremely taxing – on top of everything else I’m feeling right now.” You glanced over at Josh before adding, “The baby’s father is. . . he’s just. . .”

“A lot,” Josh finished with a half-chuckle. “He’s a very good guy. He’s just a lot.”

“I have a lot of feelings about everything happening in my life right now, I’ll just say that,” you ventured to tell her. “And I had somewhat of a handle on my anxiety and depression before I got pregnant, but it’s also been something to resurface in a brand new way with the pregnancy hormones. Without me even knowing it sometimes. And before I know it, my heart is actually hurting my chest from the amount of pressure I’m putting myself under.”

Josh scooted his chair over closer to you and wrapped one of your hands in two of his, holding on tightly.

“It hasn’t all really clicked until now. . . that all of it might be related to my. . . issues,” you confirmed aloud, peeking over at Josh just briefly before looking back to Dr. Stevens. You’d just spilled your entire heart and it was making you feel extremely uneasy. God, she hadn’t asked to hear all of that. “I’m so sorry about spilling all of whatever that was,” you waved your hands around before combing them through your hair, trying to breathe deep breaths. You found her eyes, which you now realized were green. “I really–god, fuck. I’m– that was a lot for you to hear and you didn’t ask for the whole–.”

“I needed to hear it all,” she consoled you, tapping a comforting hand on the top bed sheet, rather than your leg. “It helps me assess the situation. . . and from what I’ve heard, it sounds like the most probable cause of you fainting tonight was due to the iron deficiency and your heart.” She assessed the numbers on the blinking monitor yet again. “It just hasn’t slowed much since you’ve been here, sweetie. Even with the medications we’ve given you to temporarily alleviate it, it’s still been sitting at around 120 beats per minute. And since you’ve been awake, it’s spiked enough to cause some concern to this doctor.”

As she expressed her concern again for your thrumming heart, (which you had noticed an increase in it’s pounding as of late) it began beating a little harder once again, causing an unpleasant tightness within your sternum. You winced. 

Josh noted the change almost as quickly as you did. His hands that held onto yours began squeezing even tighter, the skin of his palms now wet and clammy. He brought your hand, wrapped in his, up to his chin. The hair on his chin was unfamiliar to the last time you’d touched his face (who even knew when you last did that), but it still felt familiar enough against your knuckles to calm some of your nerves.

You couldn’t help but look at him with wide, fearful eyes. His eyes were steady on you, his attention only breaking from you to look at Dr. Stevens with a nonverbal note of worry for you. 

She stood from the bed and came to stand beside you, inserting the buds to the stethoscope around her neck, and held the circular part to your back. “Cough for me, sweetie,” she told you, her calm demeanor forcing you to come back from your momentary freak out. “Make it a big one.”

You found it to be an odd request, but you weren’t in any place to question this doctor who had shown you nothing but kindness. And offered help when you, apparently, so desperately needed it.

You did as she said, and forced the best cough you could muster. It instantly relieved the tension in your chest, even lowered your heart rate a bit as you watched the blinking numbers begin to drop on the screen. 

“Wh-what was that? Am I having a heart attack?” You felt silly asking her that. . .but you didn’t know any better, it may as well have been your body plummeting straight into a cardiac arrest. 

This was all a lot, and now you were very hyper aware of every little change in your heart that you felt, saw, or heard from the screen.

She chuckled softly, taking the stethoscope away from her ears, hanging once again around her neck. She watched your vitals intently as the blood pressure cuff attached to your left arm (that you hadn’t noticed yet) began squeezing you rather uncomfortably. 

“You’re not having a heart attack, my dear. Not even close,” she reassured. Although, you still felt the worry present in the pit of your tummy that you were unknowingly clutching again. “I am no stranger to the intense effects of anxiety. I’ve seen it time and time again. I think that was a big part of the palpitation episode you experienced a few minutes ago and the persistent increase in your heart rate I've seen so far tonight. However, I would like to conduct a little further testing. Just want to be sure your heart is nice and strong – for you and for the baby.”

You felt the air from Josh’s lungs release against your knuckles as he let out the breath he must’ve been holding, squeezing your hand just as tight as before. As terrified as you were, his presence provided the safety net your spirit needed to not be thrown back in a massive panic attack. 

She sat down on the bed next to you once again, her kind eyes offering little comfort right now as you start to feel overwhelmed with the sudden discovery of so many things that were apparently wrong with your body.

“If you can remember, have you ever been rather sensitive to the heat? Maybe suffered from heat strokes during your youth?” 

Her question had your mind yet again returning to your past that had been kept securely behind a locked door with no key. A place you didn’t venture often. 

But it did bring forth some hazy recollections of your days as a child, playing outside in the thick,  dry summer heat. How you couldn’t stand to be out in it for very long without feeling. . . faint. And dizzy. So fucking dizzy. 

A long since forgotten trait of yours that you never thought to pay any mind to. 

“Um– yeah, actually. Now that I think about it, Summers were always a challenge. I couldn’t stand being outside for much longer than a few minutes some days without feeling like I could pass out or throw up,” you huffed a humorless laugh at the memories playing back in your head. Miserable times. “It was. . .fucking awful.” 

You’d suddenly started to remember all the times you felt faint as a child. But it wasn’t always from the rise in temperature. Sometimes, it was from the stresses your mom tossed your way, the fights, the troubles that brewed in your home. It became more and more clear that fainting was most definitely not new to you. You just couldn’t remember. 

“Okay,” Dr. Stevens continued, her hand now patting your shin as she seemed to pick up on the unease of remembering your past. “What about when you go to stand up after a period of being seated or lying down, does your vision become a bit obscured at times? Like you’re seeing stars? Tunneled vision, maybe?”

“I mean, y-yeah,” you stuttered. “Sometimes. But it doesn't last for very long. Doesn’t everybody experience that, though?”

You had no clue where she was going with all of these questions— questions that she seemingly already knew the answers to. Of what it all meant, you weren’t sure. But you knew you needed her to cut to the chase soon before you began plummeting even further down the anxious path you’d started paving. 

“What does it mean? Is this something I should be worried about?” You asked through newly developed tears you had no control over. 

Your mind was running rampant with only one singular thought: the baby. What does this mean for the baby? 

“You don’t need to worry, sweetie. This is actually a lot more common than you think.”

She stood up from the bed, unclipping one more piece of paper from the board she’d been holding prior to sitting down. She handed it over to you, the paper weighing your hand down with what you were to find on it. 

But before you could begin to worry about what was on it, she was explaining it to you.

“That sheet is going to inform you on the ins and outs of Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, most commonly referred to as POTs,” she seriously informed, her eyebrows dipping to show concern for your worries that you knew were painted all over your face. 

“That’s a funny name,” Josh giggled, the breath from the laugh he’d let out fanned against your knuckles. “Like pots and pans. . . you know?”

You wanted to slap him because, shut the fuck up, Josh, now is not the time, but. . . try as you might, it actually calmed you down a bit. You couldn’t help the tiny ghost of a grin that floated over your lips.

Dr. Stevens glared at him, causing him to stop his little joke, before she continued on. “POTs,” she enunciated the name while flashing her eyes to Josh, “is nothing to be concerned with, but it is a valid heart condition that does require a bit more testing to confirm if it’s present or not. Just to be safe.” 

You peered down at the sheet in front of you and the bolded print that you tried so fucking hard to not be too overwhelmed by. It wasn’t the worst possible condition, but it was still a fucking heart condition that you could possibly have. And with everything else that’d happened tonight and your current life predicament. . . it was causing your head to spin.

Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS) is a condition that causes a number of symptoms when you transition from lying down to standing up, such as a fast heart rate, dizziness and fatigue. While there’s no cure, several treatments and lifestyle changes can help manage the symptoms of POTS.

As you read the small print across the page, she told you exactly what it was she suspected you had. “To put it plainly, your heart can’t pump blood quickly enough to your body, resulting in a higher heart rate and a lower blood pressure that can sometimes cause you to faint.” She came close to your bedside again, “If you don’t mind, I am going to need to listen to your heart again.” 

It took you a bit to come to, but when you did, you finally nodded in response. She placed the cold end of the stethoscope against your chest while securing the buds in her ears to listen to you.

“This, combined with your lack of eating that caused the extremely low iron levels could have developed from your pregnancy. Although, I’m willing to bet they’ve been present your entire life. Certain instances can trigger them. Stress, severe anxiety, or pregnancy. In your case, dear, I’d say it’s all of the above. A bit of a trifecta, you could say. The ingredients for the perfect, terrifying storm.” 

“Jesus, mama," Josh breathed, his lips faintly brushed over your knuckles as he continued to hold your hand close to his face. “You have got to start taking care of yourself. I can’t stand to see you like this.”

You knew that. God, you knew that. It had always been easier said than done. But it was no longer all about you anymore; the moment the life began growing within you, it gave you a newfound motivation to take care of yourself for the little life you were now responsible for.

“What other testing needs to be done?” You asked. You were hesitant of what her answer would be, but if it provided a step in the right direction towards becoming the healthiest version of yourself that you could possibly be, you were all ears.

“There’s a specific test, a tilt table test, that must be done to provide us with a little more insight to the specifics of your case. However, it’s not safe to perform it while you're pregnant,” she explained. “So for now, I’m just going to send in for a heart monitor that will be delivered to your house in the next week or so. You’ll wear it for four weeks and that'll give us plenty of information in the meantime. I’m also going to refer you to one of the best cardiologists we have on staff here.”

A heart monitor? That sounded utterly terrifying to you. 

“I am also going to insist that you keep track of your hemoglobin levels daily,” she continued. “You can also buy your own blood pressure cuff to partner with the hemoglobin kit we have set to deliver at your doorstep. You should be able to apply your insurance to the purchase of the blood pressure cuff, if you decide to include that step as well,” Stevens took a deep breath before going on. “Keep a daily journal to log your numbers. Just a notebook to track your blood pressure and hemoglobin levels. It’s vital that you do these things, y/n. Fainting like this can not be a normal occurrence. It’s not good for you or the baby.” When she spoke next, you felt your heart leap into your throat. “The lasting effects on you or the fetus could be life threatening if you’re not careful. . . could be terribly detrimental to the baby’s development—specifically his or her little body or brain development.”

Life threatening. Detrimental. Baby’s development. Little body or brain development.

You heard your heart rate go up on the monitor, but you weren’t about to freak yourself out any further by looking at the changing numbers. You literally felt your pulse quicken and your breath become shallow in your throat as you struggled to take full breaths.

Focus on the now. Focus on what is real. What is right now. Baby is not in trouble yet. 

You have time.

You brought a thumb and middle finger up to your temple, rubbing away furiously to relieve the oncoming headache that had been simmering at the surface for the past several minutes. Your other hand found its home on your swollen belly.

It was all so overwhelming–staggering, really, and you weren’t prepared for any of it in the slightest. 

But, then again, how would someone prepare? You felt as if you were living in a brand new body, much different from the one you’d lived your whole life in up to this point. There was so fucking much out of your control and unknown. It was all pushing down, heavily, on your already-tense shoulders.

“Relax, mama,” Josh sensed your tension, and knowing you as well as he did, he knew it was time to start helping you articulate the right questions. He brushed his thumb across the back of your hand as he calmly asked, “What do we need to do if her numbers aren’t. . . normal? What are some measures we can take to get them to where they need to be?” 

The fact that he was willing to stand alongside you during this whole thing, that he wanted to, it was such a comforting thing to know at this moment. Not that you had any doubt in your mind, but hearing him say something as simple as ‘we’. . . it just warmed your heart completely. 

“Lots of fluids,” she answered through a sincere smile. “And an increase in your salt intake to help your body maintain those fluids.” She handed you yet another sheet and sat back down next to you, looking you in the eye with a stern, motherly expression. “That should help you out with foods to eat and fluids to drink, in addition to the sheet from earlier. But, honey, you need to change your diet. It’s essential that you incorporate healthy eating habits at this point in your pregnancy. After you’ve gotten your body accustomed to the bland foods on the other list I’ve supplied you, you need to start adding lots of iron heavy foods to your meals. Meats, leafy greens, rice. . . things of that nature.” She searched your eyes, hers kind and knowledgeable from years in the field. “Alright?”

You nodded your head in confirmation, wondering how the hell you were going to make that happen with the way normal food left you utterly disgusted at the present time. 

“We’ll make sure of that, doc,” Josh responded in your place, throwing a wink at you as he knew damn well how horrible your food aversions had been. 

“M-my therapy,” you found your voice. “It’s going to be intense. It will cause my body stress.” Dr. Stevens looked at you quizzically before you went on, “It’s called EMDR therapy. Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing; although, I’m sure you’ve heard of it in your profession. I don’t know all of the logistics yet, but I know it’s not a conventional form of therapy. What do I do if I wish to continue that? Should I continue it?”

“It should be safe, as long as you make sure to have a thorough discussion with your therapist after each session. That is dire in helping your body and your mind process it all in a healthy manner. In order to have a healthy body, you must also take care of your mind, especially in those circumstances. I do want you to consult with your therapist over how much stress you’ll be able to handle at any given time. Don’t let your mind go too far. If you have a good therapist, they’ll know the signs if you’ve had enough, though, don’t be afraid to tell them.” 

If there was one thing you did know about all this uncertainty, it was that you could trust Gia to not lead you astray, or towards anything that would be detrimental to your mental health. 

Dr. Stevens smiled, her clipboard once again tight in her grip before she stepped further to the curtained room you were shielded by. “Do you have any more questions?” 

Josh glanced at you, waiting for you to say anything or waiting for you to communicate something for him to say on your behalf. You were sure you had questions, but you were just fucking flooded with stress to the point that all you wanted to do was sleep. . . just ready to get home.

Also, seeing as it was an emergency room, the idea was to get patients in and out. Wasn’t supposed to be the length of a standard visit. 

You’d taken up too much of her time.

So, you shook your head at Josh and then looked to Dr. Stevens to tell her no thank you.

And when you did, you glanced down at the name on her coat and the name of the hospital stitched into the white fabric. You hadn’t even noticed. . . .  Cedars-Sinai.

Same hospital I’ll have the baby at, if all goes according to plan, you suddenly realized, the thought bringing you a weird sense of peace. And it will go according to plan.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Josh went about gathering up all of the documents that had been handed to you and the prenatal pills provided as a nurse came in to disconnect all of your tubes and shit. He'd waited outside the curtain. and asked the nurse a few more questions as you'd changed back into your clothes.

And on the ride home, he’d put on peaceful music over the speaker of the car. He was used to doing it when you rode in his car as you hated riding in it. But tonight? Tonight you found comfort in the hunk of creaking metal. 

Because it meant you were going home. 

When you got home, Josh helped you up to the apartment and went about opening the front door and setting up your bed for you. All while you brushed your teeth, pulled up your hair that smelled like hospital, and changed into your comfiest PJs. 

Just as he’d tucked you in and was about to leave, you pulled on his hand and begged for him to stay. You really didn’t want to be alone for the night, mumbling as much to him. 

So, like the perfect friend he was, he set up a pallet on the floor as you tossed him a pillow from your bed. 

And to your solace, sleep found you as soon as your head hit the satin of your pillowcase. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 14, 2022

Every Monday being your therapy day was honestly the perfect way to start your week. You’d decided that on the way to the counseling practice on the chilly November afternoon of your second appointment.

You already knew it would be like it had been before. Before, (on your first and only other visit before today’s) it had just felt like a breath of fresh air to talk to a licensed professional like Gia. She was just fucking amazing. And you knew every week would be like before: a fresh start with a confidant who could give you killer fucking advice. A little date of sorts with a licensed professional who was positively eager to help you get through your week (life, generally) the best you possibly could.

Well, at least your therapist was eager to do that. 

Even as you sat on her trendy, camel-colored leather couch for your second appointment, you felt completely comfortable and at ease with Gia. She had already become one of your favorite people. 

You’d spent the first thirty minutes or so filling her in on telling Josh, your first prenatal exam (also showed her the sonogram pictures, which she’d loved), and the emergency visit. No details had been spared and you made sure she had time to give you any advice or words of wisdom she deemed necessary. But she’d really just let you have the floor and talk. 

Once you wrapped up your scary details from the night of the E.R., handed over all of the documents you wanted to sort through with her, and talked through them until you felt more ease about all of the anemia and heart shit, she’d looked at you seriously. 

Pinned you with a stare, her eyes sparkling like emeralds as she thoughtfully assessed you. 

She sat down her tea, and then wheeled herself over to you. Her oversized sweater was a turtle neck that matched the color of her couch, and the too-long sleeves of it touched your hands as she grasped them loosely in her hands. “Y/n,” she began, peering at you openly through her circular, wire framed-lenses, “We do not have to do EMDR. I want to remind you, it is entirely up to you if you choose to go that route. If you are fearful of it causing too much stress, I understand wanting to venture down another therapeutic route.”

“No,” you shook your head, a small smile curled the corner of your lips to reassure her. “I want to do it. I believe it’s what will work best to get to the heart of things. Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she agreed, brow knitted. “I just don’t want you to feel any unnecessary stress during this vulnerable time in your life.”

“As long as you promise to help me wrap it all up with a good talk at the end of each appointment,” you suggested with hope evident in your tone. “To wrap it up as much as we can for me to make it through the week.”

She grinned. “I can do that,” she affirmed with one certain nod, her loose bun, full of her soft blonde hair bounced with the action. “Did the doctor recommend continuing it?”

“Yep. Said it shouldn’t be an issue if we manage to discuss it all at the end of each session,” you offered. “Doesn’t want me carrying around anything unresolved that could make my stress levels increase.”

“Well, that’s definitely doable,” she confirmed with a wide grin. Scooting back, she grabbed her tea from the repurposed desk in the corner of her office before propping her ankle on top of her bent knee. “So, if you do wish to continue with EMDR, I’ll go ahead and explain it a little better than I have yet.”

“I do,” you said as a final agreement. “What should I know before we start?”

So, Gia proposed EMDR and all of the benefits that could come from the specific form of therapy. You listened to every detail readily. Were you scared? Yes. Were you anxious to begin? Also yes. It was intriguing and a little exciting to be so close to finally diving deep into the curves and corners of your mind and memories. 

Once she’d finished with that, she was rolling her chair back over to you and placing her elbows on the ends of her thighs as she bent to talk intimately with you. When she spoke, the smell of spearmint on her breath was oddly calming. “There’s something I feel I should mention before we begin. A bit of a warning that you should heed. Some clients experience this, some don’t. But something to be aware of, nonetheless.” 

Your eyes widened at her use of the word ‘warning,’ and her sudden change in tone made you believe this was something a little more serious. You knew there were risks involved with this somewhat unconventional form of therapy, but you hadn’t let yourself delve into all of them just yet. You had tried your best to leave the ball in Gia’s court to explain it all to you. 

And you knew that anything deemed risky, Gia would let you know of them before you agreed. Any online research wouldn't be nearly as viable as it would be coming straight from Gia’s mouth. 

Still yet, your heart beat just a little faster in preparation for whatever she had to tell you.

Deep breaths, y/n.

“Tell me,” you asserted. In search of some extra comfort, you placed a hand on your belly, the pulse vibrating in your palm also immediately triggered the fear in you that your heart was possibly over exerting itself.

Deep. Breaths. Gia’s got this. She won’t let you do anything too risky to your health. She wouldn’t let you.

“Some people report experiencing rather intense flashbacks that can come unannounced. And when I say intense, I truly mean just that, y/n. If they come, they can be debilitating.” 

This was the first you had seen her eyes downturned, a picture of worry painted within her emerald green irises. “There have also been accounts of severe nightmares—well, more along the lines of night terrors. The kind that can wake you up in a panic. I just want you to be aware of these possibilities before we begin. I need you to promise me right now, that if these things do happen, you’ll call me. I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the night or the middle of the day, you have to call me, and I will answer.” 

Middle of the day? They could come then, too? Shit.

“Is it. . .  really that serious?” You took a moment to ponder your question, not entirely sure what to make of it all just yet. (And you couldn’t help but wonder if Jake found out about these little occurrences during his research before bringing the idea up to you.)

“It can be,” she noted with a stern tone that sent yet another wave of anxiety through your tense muscles. “That’s why I need you to make me that promise. That isn’t something you should ever experience alone. As I said, it can be debilitating.”

Your mind began turning furiously with the thought of having to experience flashbacks. Would they be flashbacks to things you already remembered? Or worse. . . things you didn’t? Both?

If you were being honest with yourself, you knew the answer and it was honestly terrifying to you.

For a split second, you started to doubt whether or not this was the right solution for you. But, you couldn’t deny any longer that you did need the help. You had to be better. For you and for the life that was growing inside of you. The baby needed a healed mother. 

And you knew Gia was the perfect person to guide you through it. You trusted her, and that was something that has never come easily for you. 

“I’ll admit,” you began, still holding tight to your belly, reminding yourself of the growing reason why you needed to do this. “I’m nervous. But I still want to do it. I promise I’ll call you when— if— that happens. . . but, what if you’re not available?”

“Don’t be nervous. You’ve got this.” She flashed you her sparkling white teeth in a smile that put your spirit right back at ease. “And I do my best to answer. It’s my job as your therapist to see you through this. Some don’t take it as seriously as I do, but I know that you’ll need me in your corner and I’m happy to be there. I signed up for this, just like you did,” she grinned, once again using her feet to scoot her back to her desk, in her plush, light pink chair. “But, on the off chance I’m not able to answer, I would immediately contact someone you trust to see you through it. Hold you. Talk to you. Just be there with you. Whatever you need. Someone who would be willing to do that.” She opened her laptop before turning to you, an idea seeming to spark in her mind. “As a matter of fact, before our next session, why don’t you make it your assignment to think of the person you’ll go to in situations like that? Just one person for now and if you think of more, then double whammy.”

She winked, and you just sent a barely-there grin back to her in response. As she went about clicking open tabs on her computer, you knew you didn’t need until next session to think of your person. 

Because as soon as she started talking about that person, you were back in the hallway of your grandparents’ home – right outside your bedroom. And the person next to you right then and there. . . he was the one you wanted with you if the terrors hit. 

Not Josh. Not even Elsie. 

But Jake. 

Would he be okay with that though? Would it be worth asking him?

Gia was once again speaking as she clicked through a few buttons on her laptop. “Y/n? You okay, love?” 

You looked up, finding her eyes waiting for yours. “Oh–oh, yeah,” you stretched your lips to make the best smile you could. “Just being an overachiever and already brainstorming my person to contact.”

She hummed, giving you a sneaky smirk. “Does it happen to be a certain roommate of yours?”

Eyes bugging, you were shocked that she’d guessed. But were you really? She sorta kinda (definitely) knew the depths of your heart. She'd probably known who you’d want to pick as soon as you'd known it. 

Nodding sheepishly, you decided to ask, “Is that a bad idea?”

“I don’t believe so,” she assured. “From what you’ve told me about him, he seems like a pretty good guy and I think he’d be more than willing to help you if you needed him.”

“Really?”

“Really. It’s also super convenient because he lives with you,” she insisted with a final wink before she said, “Anything I might’ve forgotten will be in the PowerPoint I’m about to send to your email. But, I’ve gotta say, I’ve done it enough times with enough clients, I think I’ve covered every base for today.” A few beats of silence passed before she triumphantly pressed a button. “Aaand, sent!” 

Then, wheeling back over to you, her pristinely white Nikes made the smallest squeak on the stained concrete floor of her office. “Okay, so today,” she began. “How are we feeling?”

“Really good,” you confidently responded, wiping your palms against your leggings before a true smile fit to your features. “When will we start?”

“I think next session we will find your safe place,” she said with a raise of her brow. “I will explain what I mean by ‘safe place’ next time, and directly after, we will send you there. Try not to worry about it until then, okay?” She requested, eyes searching yours for an answer. To which, you nodded. She continued with a grin. “For today, I want to call it quits with the EMDR talk. . . Let you rest. Unless. . . you have any questions, of course. . . .”

You wracked your brain, and when you couldn’t think of anything immediately, you told her you didn’t have any questions. 

“Come with some next time if you think of any. And, my email is always open in between visits if needed–even if it’s just a minor inquiry you have,” she reminded. “Oh! And I’m not sure if I mentioned this yet. . . but, if we need to ever schedule an emergency visit over Zoom or in the office. . . that is also always, always on the table. I know that these things get heavy, and I want to be here for you through all of it, y/n.”

“Got it.”

Although, something did come to your mind as you were both standing to leave the session. You hadn’t given the question much thought in your own mind (shockingly). It had entered your wave of thought the day of your first prenatal appointment. When you’d asked Josh. 

But since then, your mind had been too preoccupied with everything else that had recently happened that this thought had been put on the backburner. 

But, you were curious what her opinion was on the matter, now that it had resurfaced. 

Right before she opened the door, delicate hand on the handle, you grew sweaty. But you needed to ask the question, because if you didn’t do it now, it would be tormenting you until next Monday. 

So, you asked her the same question you’d asked Josh.

“When should I tell Jake about the baby?”

She turned her shoulder, her eyes stern when she responded. “Soon. . . sooner rather than later. Just focus on what is real.”

Sooner rather than later. . . same exact words Josh had said.

-🌼🌼🌼-

It had been a long day of classes and the short shift at the Black and Gold after your classes had completely wiped you out. 

When you got home, all you’d wanted to do was take a nap to sleep off the exhaustion from the short day. Before pregnancy, you wouldn’t be hitting a wall so early in the day, but now that you were, you could hardly function after going nonstop for more than a few hours. 

Your body was functioning in overdrive, trying to produce enough energy to sustain two lives. . . and you were still getting used to it. Honestly, you weren’t sure you would ever get used to it.

But before your nap. . . you wanted to take some time to release some of the soreness in your changing body with a warm shower. You were sure to grab a towel from the dryer because, even though you knew Jake wasn’t supposed to be home for a few hours, you still didn’t want to risk him seeing you. The idea of him seeing any slight changes on your body made you cringe. You weren’t sure if you felt comfortable in your body yet, so you definitely didn’t want him seeing it. 

There was also the enormous, glaring factor of him seeing the changes and realizing what was going on. You really still just looked bloated (albeit very, very bloated). . . but you had a feeling that he would catch on. He’d gotten very used to what your body looked like for the better part of the summer, so you could see him noticing your stomach protruding more than it ever did before. 

He’d know. . . you just had a feeling.

After a day of trying to wear regular jeans, you’d decided it was a bad idea to wear your normal sized jeans anymore. The tight waistband had cut into your abdomen all day and squeezed you like a motherfucker. Thankfully, there’d been a lull in customers before the end of your shift, and the oversized sweater you’d worn had provided enough coverage for you to unbutton the jeans when you were alone in the store. 

But when you finally got to take them off, you breathed a sigh of relief to be out of the confines of the stiff clothing. And the big, fluffy sweater had gotten to be too warm by the end of your shift, so taking that off had also been extremely relieving as well. 

After you’d tied your hair back and heated the shower a little cooler than your usually steaming hot showers, you had to get used to the temperature as you stood and lathered up your belly, giving yourself your daily time to just observe how it was growing. Ever since your visit to the E.R., you’d become more conscientious of how it was growing.

You were new to this pregnancy thing. You didn’t know if it meant your baby was okay or not if your belly wasn’t growing at a certain rate.

To your utter relief, over the past few days, you had finally been able to eat more–following the lists of food Dr. Stevens had given you. You occasionally got nauseous, but the puking had limited significantly with the suggested bland, healthier foods and constant Ginger Ale (which you’d actually found much more delicious and helpful to your twisty stomach than Sprite). 

Then there were the Preggie Pops and the heaven-sent PregEase: both of which had been fucking life savers. (Both stayed safely locked away in your room, on a shelf in your closet, right next to where you’d pinned the sonogram pictures.)

Once you’d let the quick shower relax your muscles exactly like you’d needed, you took your time drying off. And once you’d washed your face and changed into bike shorts and a giant t-shirt, you weren’t so tired as before. So, you’d settled into the couch with your phone, a book, a fluffy blanket, and a delicious bowl of sweet red peppers and pretzels.

It had become a go-to snack as of late. 

You were looking forward to finishing the steamy romance that had popped up on your BookTok a few weeks back, but you wanted to look into BookTok reviews for the second book in the series before you finished the first. Just to prepare yourself. 

Though, when you opened your TikTok app, you didn’t look into the book. No, instead, you found your fingers searching ‘13 weeks pregnant’. You wanted to see how other women looked at this point in the game. You couldn’t help wanting to compare your progression to other women. It wasn’t a healthy course of action – you knew that. You just had to see. . . get an idea.

You saw a lot of videos of them talking about entering their second trimester. Which, like your Ovia app had already informed you today, you knew you had officially passed the first trimester. . . which was a massive thing to you. Passing the first trimester meant several exciting things. A few being: the chances of your baby surviving the pregnancy increased tenfold; the morning sickness started screeching to a halt (thank god); and you’d be able to find out the gender of your baby in a few short weeks.

Though, the other glaring thing at the front of your brain was how you needed to tell Jake. Because of the fact that you were already in your second trimester.

The main thing you were concerned about was staying healthy, though. . . you were really hoping you were doing okay at keeping yourself healthy; you needed your baby to be healthy. All of your numbers seemed to be getting back on the right track as you’d been tracking your hemoglobin for the past few days. It was all very comforting–-you felt better.

Just as you clicked on a video about symptoms at week 13, the front door opened to show Jake coming through. You quickly shut the app off and locked your phone, pretended to be reading as sweat accumulated in your arm and knee pits. (Lovely.) 

Though, you couldn’t help but turn your body to peek at him in his peacoat, with a scarf wrapped around his neck, and a beanie covering his ears. Much like he’d looked on the night of the macaroni and cheese and therapy talk. 

He had a little chill in his bones, it seemed, as he shook them out when taking off his coat and scarf. His hat was next, leaving his long hair staticky in its wake. He smoothed it back with one more chill before he was off to the counter, dropping off the mail and his keys. But he didn’t immediately go to his room. He went about opening a drawer, finding a pair of scissors and heading to the mail on the counter. 

You did notice a package now that you looked closer. And he was hurriedly going about cutting through the yellow protective packaging.

Out of nowhere, you decided to speak. No idea where it came from. Curiosity killed the cat was all you could come up with.

“Whatcha got there?” Whatcha got there? Okay, first of all, what the fuck?

He peered over at you, raising a brow before lifting the now-open package to display it to you. “New guitar part I ordered.”

“Oh,” you blinked, not sure what else you’d been expecting from him. Of course he wasn’t about to make pleasant conversation. Not when something had apparently climbed up his ass where you were concerned for the past several days. 

Once again, you were right back at square one at the most inopportune time. It made you question your idea to make him your go-to person for your expected night terrors. . . but you didn’t want to let go of the possibility yet. Not yet. 

“Have fun with that,” you offered, turning back around to the book you most definitely didn’t want to read at the present time. Instead, you took a nervous bite of a pepper. 

“Um, y/n,” he said your name with a question in his tone. “What the fuck is this?”

Your heart tripped over itself in your chest. What had he found? Without looking at him, you decided to just go ahead and get your ass off the couch to survey the situation. 

He was holding the box containing your heart monitor in his hands.

Fuck. You really didn’t want him to be privy to that part of your life. For whatever ridiculous reason, you were embarrassed by it. 

Deciding honesty was the best policy, you decided to just flat out tell him. “I went to the Emergency Room the other night,” you started. “And the doctor just wanted –.”

“The Emergency Room?!” His voice raised a decibel, obviously alarmed at the new information. “Wait . . . is that why Josh had to leave the bar–? The same night you were gone all night.”

“Wait. . .how do you know I was gone all night?”

“I live with you, y/n,” he scoffed, talking to you like you were an idiot. 

You felt your blood pressure rise, your heart beating in your ears. “Yes, Jake, I know this,” you matched his tone, the hormones working in your favor this time–making you angry rather than sad. “But why the fuck were you awake?”

“I was waiting for–,” he stopped, clearing his throat before starting over. He looked down, a crinkle in his brow. “I couldn’t sleep.”

He was waiting for. . . who? Waiting for. . . what? Your curiosity peaked, but you ignored it for the time being. 

“Well, not that you need to know, but yes. I was at the E.R. that night,” you explained. “Something happened that landed me there and it resulted in them wanting to track my heart activity. Nothing huge.”

And for once, you didn’t feel bad for lying to him. Your nerves were lit on fire with irritation towards him. 

He doesn’t need to know.

“You got a heart monitor in the mail,” he stated, not dropping the possible severity of the situation. "And you're saying it's nothing huge?"

Without a second thought, you were yanking the package from his hands. 

“It’s. not. your. business, Jacob,” you squeezed the package until the plastic wrap squeaked from the tight grip of your fingertips. Then, something else clicked. “Why the fuck were you not looking at the name on the package? Remember, like you said, you live with me. You know that not all of the shit that comes in the mail is yours.”

“I just wasn’t thinking–.”

“Kind of fucking invasive, Jake,” you interrupted hotly. “Don’t you think?”

“Well, it helped me to know something was wrong with your heart. You wouldn’t have told me if I hadn’t opened the package,” he argued back. 

“You didn’t need to know!” You said, your voice raising at the same speed as your blood pressure. “Still don’t!”

“But Josh sure as hell does, right?” He demanded, swinging his finger towards the door, his jaw clenching. “He needed to be your knight in shining fucking armor, huh?”

“Why the hell do you care?!” You fumed, the question exploding from your chest with the same emotion that had tears gathering in your eyes at the question. Angry tears. Confused tears. 

“I don’t!” He snapped, his beautiful, brown eyes, hard. His jaw, set and tight. 

His words sat in the air for a few minutes. Your stares were intertwined; swimming with tangled emotions. The air felt hot and heavy as it surrounded you. It was taut with newly spoken (and still unspoken) surmounting feelings and disequilibrium. Nostrils were flaring. Both of your chests heaved, the sound of his breathing mixed with yours in a way that made you want to slap and kiss his pursed lips.

You didn’t let yourself stand there much longer – needed to get away from him. Without speaking to him, you tore your eyes from his, gathered up your stuff from the couch, and tried to walk with as much dignity as you could to your room. 

Somehow, you were able to get the door open with your hands inexplicably full, and after you’d entered and before you could shut it behind you, you shot a glare his way. He was still watching you.

“Fuck you, Jake.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 17, 2022

The next night saw your ass in the shower again. 

Except this time, you were sitting in the tub, legs drawn to your chest as close as possible with your rounder tummy, and chin on your knees as you let the warm water soak you through. 

You’d already shaved and washed everything. So, now, you were just letting yourself be.

Your thoughts had been spinning since last night. So, in an effort to help your heart, you’d invited Josh over for a movie when Jake left to give lessons for the day. And, of course, he’d said yes without question. 

You’d spent the day drowning yourself in popcorn and Canada Dry (Josh surprised you with a new 12-pack when he’d arrived) as you’d watched all three Bridget Jones movies. Back to back to back. They weren’t Josh’s favorites, but he humored you by trying to indulge in the trilogy – even managing to laugh at the funny parts. 

Between movies, he’d let you cry on his shoulder. Or, intermittently, during the movies. . . By the time he’d left, your tears had positively stained the white long sleeve tee he was wearing. 

He didn’t ever ask what it was about – who it was about. And you never told him. But you knew he wasn’t oblivious to who caused your emotional episode.

Now he was gone. Had been for about an hour. And Jake wasn’t home yet. Not that you fucking cared. 

You’d meant it when you told him what you did. Fuck him.

Though, the devastating matter was that you couldn’t decide if you were more mad at yourself or him. Everyday was a replay of the day in the kitchen. And you were sure he replayed it everyday, too. . . and he was definitely allowed to feel hurt after the horrendous shit you’d thrown at him.

But what was with the back and forth? Hot and cold? How he’d been okay the night with the mac and cheese? How he’d spent his time researching therapy for you to try? How he’d been quick to defend your song to his girlfriend? 

And, just as quickly, he was snapping at you. Getting upset out of nowhere. Instantly angry with you when you’d come out of the bathroom at the bar. Getting pissed for no reason at you and Josh for sitting in the car. Telling you last night that he didn’t care about you. 

Was that true? Did he not? It fucking killed you if it was true. But you couldn’t blame him if he didn’t care. Why would he?

You took the moment to stretch your legs out in the shower, watching as the water painted your skin with droplet after droplet. Then, you looked down at your tummy, extra round after a day of pigging out. 

Placing a pruned hand on it, you looked down at the part of your body that housed your human. Surprisingly (not), tears clouded your voice as you spoke to it, rubbing the skin reassuringly. “I’m so sorry that your mommy and daddy are so fucked up.”

After letting a few tears fall to meet the tight, rounded skin of your tummy, you forced your legs to stand up. The feat was proven a little difficult as they’d fallen asleep, but you still managed. Regretfully, you’d turned the water off. You didn’t want to leave the shower but you were officially prune-y as hell.

And, as you gathered a towel to wrap up in, you realized you were also very fucking tired.

You carefully attached the heart monitor’s adhesive to your chest like the instruction manual (and multiple videos you’d watched) told you to, and followed it with the monitor itself. You then checked to make sure the phone you’d been given with the kit was ready to track what it needed.

Finding your phone on the counter after you’d washed your face and brushed your teeth, you decided Josh deserved a thank you after putting up with you the last several days.

Especially after you’d just rocked his motherfucking world . . . and he’d been so cool about it.

God, you just loved him.

You, 10:17 p.m.: I’m so glad I have you. I mean it from the bottom of my heart that I wouldn’t make it through this pregnancy without you. And your love and amazing fucking support. I’d be lost without you.

And after you sent it, you began towel drying your hair, then brushed through any tangles the best you could. 

When you heard a ding! sound from the living room, you spent a few minutes thinking it was your imagination. But when you heard it a second time, you realized it was most likely not in your head, and that Jake was home. 

So, checking your appearance once more, you wrapped the towel as tight as you could around your body before shutting the light off and opening the door. 

You glanced up to see if he was in fact home, and the sight that met you had you stop in your tracks. 

Josh’s white phone case with the little triangle symbol he’d drawn on it one day at the B&G. 

In Jake’s hands. 

Jake’s face, looking at the screen of said phone, mouth open in shock.

And as soon as you closed the door to the bathroom, the smallest sound of it shutting, made his eyes slowly slide up from the phone to your face.

He held the phone up, showing you just what he’d seen. Fuck. 

“You’re pregnant?”

You took a careful step forward, the blood in your veins frazzled and vibrating. Deny deny deny. As long as you can, y/n. “What gives you the right to be in Josh’s phone? Your invasiveness really knows no fucking bounds these days,” you clipped, voice shaking in spite of yourself.

He blinked a couple of times, a smile forming on his mouth. A wide, sarcastic one, which turned into an astounded scoff. “Really? That’s what we’re going to focus on right no–?” He shook his head, clicking the phone shut before taking a few cautious steps towards you. “His face I.D.; it opens to me. I’m his fucking identical twin.”

“Prove it,” you challenged. 

“Was already planning on it,” he snipped. And right in your line of sight, he opened the phone, putting his face in front of it. Then, it was turned to show you. The same tantalizing screen as before. “Proven.”

“Well. . .,” you faltered, scrambling. “Why did you have it?”

“It was laying on the counter. I went to grab it and my keys,” he jingled the keys in his other hand. “I was going to take it to him,” he explained, sounding exasperated and patient all at once. An anomaly. “But when I picked it up, I looked down, and it opened.”

He took two steps back, once again, holding the phone up to show you the text screen. The gray bubble had never looked so horrifying as it did in that moment. The sweat accumulating on your forehead proved your entire skin care routine pointless. You were shaking. Your skin felt like it was going to fall off from the vibrations taking over underneath it.

“Now,” he started slowly. “Will you answer my question, please?” 

His voice broke on the last word and it triggered a single tear to trickle down your cheek. 

“Yes, I am.”

“Whose?”

“Really, Jake?” You questioned, the question making your heart break. How could he–? 

His eyes went soft momentarily, pleading with you. “I just need to hear you say it, y/n.”

“It’s yours, Jake. The baby is yours. Who the fuck else?”

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: this monstrous chapter was a fucking doozy and you already know i wanna talk about it!! come to my asks and we shall chat <333

oh, but i'm just wondering........ what do you think reader's safe place will be? ;) a place? a person? both? hmmm....

ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts! love youuuu <3

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

Taglist: @joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssoloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend, @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98

(and, due to t*mblr’s shitass guidelines, i will be adding the other tags in a reblog of the story!)

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

[inevitably-johnlocked]

i have a confession

recently i had some trouble and had to delete an email

problem is, i used the google docs there to write my fics. and i thought i downloaded them all, but only one of my major ones did, and i lost everything else

literally all of it

i am anonymous because i lost my tumblr acc but on ao3 i am veetheree, and i had this longer dilemma regarding my potterlock fic (pretty disillusioned with rowling and all.that, unsure whether to continue) but even so i saw that a lot of people subscribed to it and i wanted to at least see where the story leads, i had over 300k words apart from the 40k i published

and i domt hve it anymore :') i didnt check the process because it seemed okay and i had other uni and work stuff to take care of, and now i check it and :') it's gone :')) im not doing well, and i am going to delete the fic i think

i dont have the energy to maintain it and i dont want it to be left in the dust either - i have lost all hope for it, and this is just a punch in the gut. and i was proud of the plot and how i intertwined the 2 worlds too

this is mostly just a rant because i dont really have anybody else who can relate to the pain of fic writing and the challenges that come with it

also, as to why i had to delete the email - it's complicated, hacking situation and such, but it happened over 2 months ago so im not able to retrieve it and neither do i really feel like looking into it, im done with that fic for good 😭

that's all, thank you for being a safe space for me to go to, and i apologise to anyone who was waiting for that fic to be updated :(

Hey Lovely *HUGS*

OH GOODNESS, I'm SO sorry you had a garbage time with your email, and even more so, accidentally deleted fics from your Google Drive without saving all of them. I'm TERRIFIED of losing my own fics from my G-Drive all the time (I do actually write and have about 15 "snippets" of fics on there) and back them up religiously.

That said, I can understand how life can overtake literally everything and just make being online Too Much™ – happens to me all the time 💜🖤. And I know how disheartening it can be to just... not have the motivation anymore to continue on with something, heaven knows I've done that plenty in my 40 years, LOL. And Lovely, we have to remember to do what's best for us in the long run.

When I was a teen, I wrote a fairly popular Sonic fanfic series that I never completed, literally left it on a cliffhanger. This was back before even FFNet, and fics were distributed in the Sonic fandom on our Geocities pages via Webring, LOL. After life took over, it still remains unfinished over 20 years later. I recently found the original word docs of all 9 of the stories (with the 10th one half-finished) and while I cringe at my bad writing from back then, I still love immersing myself in that world. One of these days, maybe I'll finish it, because I do think it was a great concept and intriguing storyline that dealt a lot with humanity and sentience, just obviously written by a teenager, hahaha.

The point of that anecdote? We can still love the things we wrote, and still want to engulf ourselves in that world from time to time and not feel bad about it. And if you decide to come back to it a decade from now, that's okay too. You're only human.

And never EVER hesitate to come here for a friendly eyeball to vent to. I try my best to make y'all feel not so alone. Glad to see you are okay, Vee, truly. That's what's most important.

*SNUGGLE BUGGLE HUGGLE* I hope you have a beautiful, prosperous day. And I'm sure your fic-fans understand <3

#steph replies #steph's sofa #new tag i think... i answer enough asks like this :) #chatting with lovelies #fandom life #author problems #writer problems #my advice #i am not a professional

[melodygatesauthor]

Sick of people asking me "when", and I'm gonna talk about it...

If you aren't in the headspace for a post more on the "negative" side then don't read this, but I need to say something about this before I lose my fucking MIND.

The entitlement coming from some of my readers has GOT to fucking stop, and I'm so goddamn serious right now. You have me at my fucking limit on what's supposed to be a fun hobby. So here's what's happening, and I'm not going to be nice about it because I'm so fed up I want to cry:

Over the last few days, I've woken up to messages in my inbox that are all being demanding, entitled, and downright fucking RUDE. Some of you saying you're "disappointed" that I haven't updated certain stories or just saying "where is the next update for x story". Fuck the FUCK off okay? (This is in NO WAY directed at the majority of my readers. The majority of you, fortunately, are very kind and leave me such nice comments and I love you *forehead kiss*)

---

First of all, don't you think that if I had the update ready I would post it?

I don't get paid for this (a point that I will be touching on more later, don't you worry.) so my "payment" is the gratification I get from reblogs and comments. If I don't post, I don't get "paid." So just know that I want to post my stories as much as you want to read them. I think I speak for most writers when I say that. I'm not a fucking dragon hording my fucking stories and chapters in google docs and laughing while you all suffer. I have the stories in my head and I'm crying while I suffer because I don't have enough time to get them all out onto paper before you all start turning into nasty little gremlins over them.

Secondly, you demanding asking for more is not encouraging, nor is it motivational.

Again, I think I'm speaking for most writers with this. When you demand or ask for more, THE ONLY THING *taps megaphone* THE ONLY THING you're doing is reminding the writer that they haven't updated and it gives us a little pit in our tummies at our "failures". (a little note to my fellow writers reading this, you're not a failure, but I know it can feel like that when people come into your inbox like this, despite it not being true). "HoW dO i MoTiVaTe A wRiTeR tO uPdAtE mY fAvOrItE sToRy ThEn?" Well you entitled asshole, I'm SO FUCKING GLAD YOU ASKED. (Because that brings me to my next point).

Third, I'd be willing to put the $200 in my savings account and the change at the bottom of my purse on the fact that YOU HAVEN'T EVEN REBLOGGED MY STORIES.

Sorry, feeling called out? Fucking GOOD. I hope your pillows are warm and moist af on both sides when you're trying to sleep because literally if you're coming into my inbox, acting like THIS and then you have the AUDACITY to not even reblog my work? You're one of the worst kinds of people and I wish you nothing but the worst. It's the ONLY thing I ask for in response to my hard work and I'm sure you can't even manage that. You should be embarrassed.

Fourth, let's talk about how much money I make doing this shall we?

$0...I make ZERO DOLLARS and you are talking to me with more of an attitude and entitlement than a Karen in a fucking grocery store during Covid. Get a grip bro. Wanna start paying my bills so I can write fanfiction full time? DO IT, and THEN we can chat about WHEN something isn't getting updated or WHY it didn't get updated. Until then, shut your fucking mouth and enjoy what I put out, or get off my page. I don't care anymore, I'm so done being nice about this.

Fifth, I LITERALLY UPDATE YOU ALL WEEKLY TO LET YOU KNOW WHEN THE FUCK I'LL BE UPDATING WHAT THE HELL!!!!

With the exception of this past week because I've been so goddamn busy, I post a WEEKLY update letting my readers know when I'll be updating something. I have a busy work schedule, and it's summer, so there are lots of things going on in my life right now. I try to help mitigate the questions you have about "when" and "why" by doing this. What makes me annoyed is that you all seem to be on my page, noticing that I'm not updating and getting upset about that, but you don't take the time to look at the fucking information I put out in your face to avoid having to answer the same questions ten fucking times. Omg and for the love of god FOLLOW @melodygatesupdates FOLLOW THAT BLOG RIGHT NOW OR SO HELP ME. If I have ONE MORE person ask me about my tag list after reading a fic that says "I don't have a taglist anymore so follow @melodygatesupdates" I'm going to lose it.

So here's a blanket statement as to "why" I haven't posted whatever chapter or story you've been waiting for. Pick one of the options below because either one or more are accurate.

I'm working too many hours to have time for updating regularly so am only working on fics that are currently inspiring to me.

Another Adderall shortage so I'm having a hard time focusing.

I don't feel like it today, and despite what you may think, that's a perfectly valid reason not to write something.

I'm working on something else.

Something bad happened in my personal life.

My personal life got busy.

Going forward, for my own sanity, I'm no longer entertaining questions about "why" I haven't updated or "when" I plan to update something. 9 times out of 10 I'll let you know if something is going to be delayed or if it's not in my current scope of interest, but otherwise, just don't ask.

If you're nice when you ask, I'll probably just ignore you and delete your inbox ask. I feel bad doing that to those of you who are kind when you ask, but I just can't take it anymore, especially when I'm telling you right now that you don't need to ask me.

For those who come in hot like "why haven't you..." or "When are you going to..." I'm blocking you. Consider this a warning. Even if you come in on anon, you can still be blocked and I won't fucking hesitate. Learn some manners and then come talk to me, but until then I'm not going to entertain this behavior any longer.

I'm a grown woman in her thirties just trying to pass the time with something I enjoy, and waking up to this every morning over the last few days while working 60+ hours a week fucking sucks. So for my own mental health, I have to start putting my foot down. You're ruining my online experience and making this less fun for me.

Thanks for reading, I love those of you who read this whole thing and who AREN'T the people this post is meant for. You're the real MVPs.

#melody talks #melody is fed up #thank you for coming to my ted talk #dicourse kind of #frustrated #venting

[cynderofnight]

Just seen your Labby/Teddie headcannons go off bud. You rant and rave we wanna seeeeee! Share your stuff if you want it's all valid and good!

God I had this ask for long mainly cause I’ve been thinking and overthinking on headcannons screw it, I’m too full on ideas so imma go crazy

(i swear to god if i do hit the word limit, I’m gonna YELL)

anyways the whole thing is under read more cause again, I talk too much

Okay to start things off, Labrys really like dogs cause ya know, Snowy. So she likes talking or interacting with any dog she meets. She’s a dog person all the way. But guess who doesn’t like that? Teddie, that’s who. He will get jealous at any dogs that take Labrys attention away from him. “Labby-chan! I’m right here! Why don’t you talk and pet me instead of this mutt! :(” Though he doesn’t stay jealous as long as she just simply pets and chat as they are strays or owned. So he’s fine until Koromaru comes in. Ooooo boy, Koromaru is a member of the Shadow Ops so his pets and chats with Labrys are longer as he has nowhere to be often and the two are pretty close. He’s the one that gets Teddie to be stomping jealous. The two are pretty much rivals on Labrys affection, even if Teddie is already dating her. He’ll fight him on being cute and adorable. Also, Koromaru actually plays along with him in this rivalry as he sees it as fun. That said, he finds it amusing that getting close and cuddling with Labrys sets him off. Kid you not, he will hop on Labrys’s lap being all cute to get all the pets and then turn to Teddie with a happy shiba inu pup face. He looks so innocent but really is purposely making Teddie get jealous cause it’s fun. Teddie and Koromaru actually do get along with each other since they’re both cute, mascots, and persona users. It’s just that when Labrys walks into the room, that friendship turns into rivalry because ya know.

Labrys doesn’t need to sleep since she’s a robot and all but Teddie does. Labrys used to just walk around or do something but that changed when she saw Teddie gets nightmares. Like his nightmares consist of him being no longer liked and being left in the tv world or having all his friends killed by shadows and he couldn’t do anything about it cause he was so scared like how the IT first found him in the tv world. Though now that he’s super close to Labrys, sometimes he’ll have a nightmare of her being destroyed in battle and can’t be fixed. He’ll wake up with tears and will crawl into his suit and stay in it till he feels better since his suit gives him comfort. Labrys walked in when she heard a noise and found Teddie crying in the corner in his suit. Teddie doesn’t tell her anything at first as to not bother her but after some talk and comforting words, he lets it out. Labrys gets how he feels as she has similar nightmares as well just a little different. Like how she’s the one who kills all her friends and gets locked away and has her memories wiped. Nonetheless, she coaxes him outta of the suit and makes him go to bed. But when she tries to leave, he freaks out and grabs her hand. He asks if she can be nearby and watch him as he’s afraid of dealing with the nightmares alone again. Though after he asks he gets a nervous feeling he’s bothering her so he adds if she only wants to and if she can’t then it’s okay. (Ted, your sad face and fear is making Labrys feel sad and concerned. Not in a bad way either, she just cares about you so much.) She agrees to watch him as it’ll make him more comfortable and she’s not really doing much in the late nights. So when Teddie sleeps, Labrys will be nearby watching over him to see if he's okay and help him out if any nightmare gets him. Of course with her staying in one place, Aigis wonders where she is and looks for her. Once she sees Labrys watching over Teddie in his sleep, she instantly gets it and leaves them be. Of course not without her reminiscing about herself and Minato cause ya know.

Moving on a different headcannon, the shadow ops are pretty happy with how happy the two are, meanwhile the IT are confused that Teddie is dating. It’s mainly Yosuke though cause he’s like “That damn bear is dating? and it’s Labrys? Huh???” Though after he’s done being confused he’s very supportive but not without him teasing the heck of Teddie. That’s what he gets for teasing Yosuke about him and Yu together. Everyone is supportive of them in different ways. Yu helps Teddie with dating advice. From now they perfect date spot to what to give on valentines since Labrys doesn’t do chocolate. He helps give good tips. Chie, Yukiko, and Rise take them out shopping for fun cause Labrys doesn’t really have much outfits and Teddie likes to have more. Yukari and Mitsuru might join in the shopping but it’s rare by how busy the two are. Kanji finds the two adorable with each other and he helps Teddie make a Teddie plush (like the one Nanako receives) as a gift for Labrys for an event. “With this, you’ll never be alone! Either I would be with you or mini me will! Us bears will be by your side no matter what! :)” With Naoto I think he often gives books for Labrys to read and for Teddie he makes little gadgets to keep him busy. I think that weird cube thingy with all the little clicks and what not would be a favorite of his. As for the shadow ops, Yukari tolerates Teddie cause how he is but finds him better than Junpei and she takes Labrys and Teddie shopping when she can. Sad Junpei noises here. Junpei and Teddie pick on each other but in a fun way. Junpei knows how to handle kids so he knows what to do in dealing with Teddie from distraction and getting along with him. Ken likes Teddie but he’s on Koromaru side of the two’s rivalry. Ken and Labrys get along as they watch Koromaru and Teddie have their cute contest. Mitsuru supports the relationship with Teddie and Labrys but every now and then, Teddie gets a mom glare from her. Aigis and Teddie get along very well which makes Labrys pretty happy. While Aigis doesn’t have “a pun for every occasion” anymore because of PQ, she is learning “bear puns for every occasion” from Teddie. Yukari keeps telling her to delete it but she relearns it from Teddie every time. Akihiko is always up to train the two and Labrys is always down but Teddie isn’t. “I don’t wanna fight the half naked man! :(” Fuuka really likes Teddie but Teddie gets confused by her from how she talks about technology and big words. He still likes her though since she’s really cute! 

I’ve run out of ideas or I hit a burn out. Surprised I didn't hit the limit but I talk about this too much. I might have more ideas later but as of now this is what I mainly got plus the previous one. So yeah, have these long head cannons. I spent too long on this so enjoy it.

#cyn speaks #ask #anon #persona #persona 3 #persona 4 #persona 4 arena #headcanons #ships #Teddie #Teddie Hanamura #Labrys #Tedrys #Teddie x Labrys #cyn rants #fucking hell i spent so much time on this #like a few days #literally had to save this on google docs and update it when i can as tumblr would of eaten this if i hadn't #but yeah he's my headcanons #i might have more but right now my brain empty #also i ain't tagging everyone cause then it would be long in the tags #and i already speak long in the tags #so i'm just tagging the two i'm mainly talking about

[nugnthopkns]

gonna keep this love if you let me

word count: 4.0k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, slight innuendo, alcohol consumption, cursing, a lot of wedding talk

recommended listening: burning | maggie rogers

series masterpost: here

a/n: found this during my google docs purge and decided to finish it!! guess that means hiiapl is tentatively back, but updates will most certainly be sporadic. also i know literally nothing about st. louis or the blues so pls don't come for me

Life would be completely different without Colton.

It’s crazy to think so, but it’s true. Had you not met him nearly five years ago at a bar in New York, you’d be in a totally different situation – probably married to the Wall Street douchebag you were with at the time and struggling to find your sense of self. Instead, you’re happy in St. Louis with the best chosen family you could ever dream of. Colton is a lighthouse in your storm, keeping you steady and providing hope.

Marriage has never been off the table, but it hasn’t exactly been on it either. Both you and Colton are young, barely into life itself, and you know he wants to enjoy his youth. Tyler tells you that you’re being ridiculous, that Colton is more than ready to settle down, but you’re scared to broach the topic. You’ve never handled rejection well, and Colton wielding that sword would be too much for you to bear. It doesn’t stop you from fantasizing about what your wedding would be like – you want it to be small, just close family and friends, and maybe on a lake. One day you’ll gather the courage to ask him what he thinks about spending the rest of his life with you.

“Babe, have you RSVPed to Scandella’s wedding yet?” Colton asks you as he slips his dress shoes on. It’s early May, and the Blues are trying desperately to make it out of the first round.

“No,” you draw out, slightly confused. “We didn’t get an invitation.”

“It’s on the fridge, under the grocery list. I put it there like a week ago.”

You roll your eyes and laugh. “How was I supposed to find it, Colt? I’ll do it as soon as you leave. Have fun in Denver.”

He kisses you gently, promising to score you a goal, and pats your dog on the head before wheeling his suitcase out the door and into the trunk of Tyler’s car. You wave to your boyfriend’s teammate and watch as they turn the corner. Once inside, you dig around on the fridge until you find the invitation. It’s a little crumpled, a clear indication Colton shoved it in his pocket after practice and left it there for a while, but it still looks gorgeous. Celeste, Marco’s fiancée, has a timeless style that is perfect for the wedding she’s no doubt deep into planning. Flipping the card over, you see the deadline to RSVP is in two days, so you rush to pull up the website and input your details.

Not even five minutes after saving your seats you get a text from Celeste. Cutting it pretty close to the wire, wouldn’t you say? followed by Please know I’m kidding, and I’m ecstatic you and Colton can make it.

You laugh, typing out a reply that explains your lateness. He never told me about it, just put the invite on the fridge after letting it sit in his jacket for a week. We can’t wait to be a part of the big day :) x

The two of you chat for a while longer, exchanging details about the wedding, before you take Perseus on his long walk and comfortably fall into the routine you keep when Colton isn’t around. Despite trying your best to dream of other things, you spend the night picturing what your boyfriend’s face will look like if you ever walk down the aisle.

☼☼☼☼

It’s chillier than you thought it would be, but with Colton’s suit jacket wrapped around your shoulders the warmth will soon return to your body. Marco and Celeste elected to have an evening wedding, and the setting sun makes the venue even more beautiful. Montreal is a beautiful city, with a wonderfully rich history, and the distant sound of boats on the St. Lawrence provide serene background noise.

The arm that is resting comfortably on the back of your chair shifts slightly to pull you closer to Colton. “When can we start drinking?” he whispers as you wait for the bride to make her entrance. “You look exceptionally good in that dress, and I need an excuse to have my hands all over you.”

“Colton Parayko,” you chide, “We’re in public!”

“When has that ever stopped me?”

Before you can reprimand him the music starts and the crowd rises. You follow suit, peering over Colton’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of Celeste. She looks stunning, all smiles as she makes her way towards her soon-to-be husband. The ceremony leaves you both in tears, with Colton’s teammates laughing hysterically at you. It’s the first time you don’t hear Colton defend himself when chirps are thrown.

The drinks flow freely throughout dinner, and by the time the dance floor opens you’ve consumed one too many gin and tonics. You can’t convince Colton to participate in the silly group dances so you’re with the group of wives, dancing up a storm and having the life of your life. Eventually he makes his way to the floor, stealing you away for a slow dance to some overplayed Ed Sheeran song. You rest your head on his chest as he sways you in small circles, sealing it with a kiss as the music fades into a song he can’t resist bopping along to. Both of you spend the rest of the night dancing with your friends and making memories you hope to duplicate as more of the team gets married.

It’s after midnight when the remaining guests send the newlywed couple on their way in a flurry of applause and bubbles. The hotel you’re staying at is only a short walk from the venue, so you and Colton make your way there at a leisurely pace. Much of it has to do with your inability to walk fast. Despite your boyfriend’s suggestion to wear a comfortable pair of sandals, you wore the highest pair of heels you own, and the pain you feel makes the journey longer than it needs to be.

“Hold up for a sec,” you whine slightly when Colton gets too far ahead of you for your liking, “‘M gonna take my shoes off.”

He looks at you like you’ve grown three heads. “Don’t do that Y/N, you’ll tear your feet to shreds. This isn’t even a real sidewalk.” He has a point – the path you’re on has you walking on a gravel shoulder.

“Don’t care. ’M tired and want to get home faster,” you mumble, bending over to undo the ankle straps.

A deep sigh rumbles from his chest, but Colton backtracks to stand in front of you. “Hop on.”

You do so with little protest and spend the rest of the walk clinging to Colton’s back. The hotel staff don’t bat an eye when the two of you enter the lobby, no doubt having encountered stranger things than a piggyback ride. It takes him a second to open the door but the latch eventually clicks, and Colton tosses you playfully on the bed. The two of you work quickly to complete some sort of nighttime routine, exhaustion hitting both of you hard. You want nothing more than to curl into Colton’s chest and sleep for at least fourteen hours.

Sleep has almost overcome you when Colton whispers a question into your hair. “Do you think we’ll have as much fun at our wedding?”

You try hard not to let your surprise be visible, but your heart is racing. “You want to get married?”

“Of course,” he says. “I knew you were the one a long time ago.”

A smile makes its way onto your features, though he can’t see it due to the position you’ve situated yourselves in. “I’d like to marry you one day,” you whisper back. The hum he emits reverberates in your chest, and you go to bed with your mind made up. You’re going to propose to Colton as soon as possible.

☼☼☼☼

It’s unconventional, you proposing to your boyfriend instead of the other way around, but your relationship has always been like that. Colton’s never been one to do things on other people’s timelines and neither are you, so many moments have been ‘too rushed’ for some family members’ liking. However, you do spend the rest of the summer debating on whether to go through with your plan or not. What if he says no because it’s too weird? The thought plagues you throughout your vacation to Alberta, and when Colton notices how off you are you chalk it up to feeling under the weather. He buys it and never brings it up again. Life has returned to normal, the season is underway, and you’ve finally committed to asking Colton to marry you.

Tyler points out how unorthodox the situation is when you pick him up to go ring shopping.

“In any other relationship I’d be doing this with Colt, not you.”

You laugh as he settles in your passenger seat and buckles up. “Since when has this been any old relationship? I moved across the continent for him.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugs. “Do you know what you’re looking for?”

The two of you spend the ride to the jewellers discussing what you think Colton would like. You argue that he’d want something simple – relatively thin and plain gold. Tyler insists that his friend wants an intricately carved ring that takes up a great deal of space on his hand, but you know he’s only doing so in an effort to make Colton look ridiculous. The bickering only stops when Tyler kindly opens the storefront door for you.

“Hi! Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” the salesperson asks. He’s charming in the way salespeople usually are, all perfectly placed hair and dazzling smile.

“We’re just looking for rings,” you explain, eyes scanning for the display case that holds rings large enough to fit Colton’s finger.

The employee smiles, undoubtedly glad he’ll be making a nice commission off the sale. “You’re a smart man sir,” he nods to Tyler, “Bringing her in to make sure she likes it. Congratulations.”

The brunette looks at you in confusion for a moment before clueing in. “Oh,” he mutters, “We aren’t together. I’m just here for moral support.”

You nod. “Could you please point us in the direction of the men’s rings?”

Though more than a bit embarrassed, the employee leads to that section of store before leaving you to your own devices. Clearly it isn’t a common request, and Tyler chuckles a little before turning his attention to the elegant rings in front of him. There are a lot more options than you thought there would be and you feel a little lost. You know what Colton likes, so you whittle out anything you know he would hate. Tyler tries to sneak in a few rather garish choices but settles down once he sees how overwhelmed you are.

“Don’t stress so much. Colt’s going to love it regardless because it’s from you, and it means the two of you are getting married,” he insists.

You aren’t convinced. “What if he hates it?”

Tyler scoffs. “That’s going to be damn near impossible. He practically worships that ground you fucking walk on.”

The nerves settle enough for you to actually be productive and eventually you settle on one that looks strikingly similar to what you were describing to your friend in the car. Unsurprisingly they don’t have Colton’s size in store, but let you know when you place the order that it should be in by the end of the week. On the way home you pick up some dinner before dropping Tyler off in front of his house. “Thanks for coming with me today,” you say sincerely to which he just nods his head.

Colton’s back from his physiotherapy session when you slip through the front door. “How was your day with Bozak?” he asks as he takes the bag of takeout from your arms and sets it on the counter.

“It was fine,” you sigh, “But I’m glad to be home.”

“What did he need help with?”

You freeze. Though you assumed Colton would ask about the details of your day, you never actually cobbled together a white lie to tell him. “Uh, he wanted a second opinion of some art he wants to buy,” you stutter, “And I took that art history course in college. He just needed me to tell him it was a replica and that the seller was overcharging him.”

He buys it, and you feel a little bad about lying. It’s one of the few times you’ve ever done it throughout your entire relationship but you really don’t want him figuring out your plans. The rest of the night is spent pressed comfortably against his side on the couch, eating Chinese food and laughing at the contestants on the reality show the two of you are currently obsessed with.

☼☼☼☼

The ring box is burning a hole in your pocket. The jeweller called while you were at work, so on your way home you stopped by to pick it up. It’s perfect, just as beautiful as you remember when you picked it out a few days ago. You don’t have a plan, no elaborate yet endearing way to ask, but you know you won’t be able to keep the secret for long. Every fibre of your being wants to be engaged to Colton.

Your house is empty when you arrive home, save for the large dalmatian that comes bounding towards you at the sound of the door opening.

“Hi Perce,” you coo, letting the animal jump a few times in greeting before settling him down. Perseus soon becomes bored of watching you take off your shoes and wanders off, no doubt to find a toy to chew on.

The Blues have a game tonight, and it’s one of the few Friday night home games you can actually attend. Your office has a terrible reputation for scheduling mandatory team dinners on Fridays to ‘improve work flow and connection’. It’s mostly bullshit, but you can never get out of them for fear of getting reprimanded – your bosses take them very seriously. However, more than half the office was away at a professional development conference this weekend, meaning the rest of you were off the hook. You got home with just enough time to eat a quick meal and change into more comfortable clothing, including a much too large Parayko jersey. Perseus follows you to the door and whines as you say goodbye, but stops when you mention Colton returning in a few hours. The dog may have been yours originally but there’s no way anyone would know if you didn’t occasionally bring it up – Perseus is attached at the hip with your boyfriend, possibly soon to be fiancée. They do everything together and Colton is the one he drags out of bed in the morning to go to the bathroom.

By the time you get to the arena the stands are packed. There’s no way you’re getting down to the glass to possibly spare a moment with Colton, so you continue on your way, weaving through people and giving the occasional wave when someone recognizes you enough to call your name. Warmups are finished by the time you make it to the family and friends box and you settle in beside some of the other girls to watch the game unfold. The ring box sitting on the kitchen counter is all you can think about, especially when someone mentions how they recently had a sister get engaged and pass around pictures of the ring. You know you won’t have one, that it will be Colton with something on his left hand, but you don’t care. You just want to spend the rest of your life with him.

The game passes in the blink of an eye. Truthfully you didn’t pay any attention, too focused on imagining a future with Colton. All you know is the Blues won, and that knowledge is in your brain only because everyone else in the box screamed about it. Colton put up four points, meaning he has to speak to the media, and he sends you a text not to wait for him. You drive home listening to a top-forty station tapping absentmindedly at the wheel. Something in your gut tells you that you have to propose tonight. It doesn’t matter that there’s no plan that there’s a chance Colton could say no. You’ve kept it inside long enough and now that you have the ring in your position you’re only going to become more spaced out waiting for the ‘perfect’ time to propose. Life is messy and unconventional, and you’ll be damned if you go through one more moment of it without being engaged to Colton.

Things move in slow motion as you wait for Colton to get home. Perseus is upset when you return sans large blonde man, but perks up when you give him a treat and take him outside to let off some steam. It’s warm enough that you don’t need a jacket, and you perch lazily on a patio chair. Your mind is moving a mile a minute, wondering what you’re going to do if you even do anything at all. Despite your haste to propose, you find yourself wondering if you’ll be able to vocalize those feelings. So many things could go wrong that you’re debating if the whole idea was good in the first place. You’re so caught up in your internal monologue that you don’t hear Colton come home, and only recognize his presence after he lets out a grunt when Perseus runs at him with full force.

“Perce, come on man. You know you’re too big to charge me like that,” Colton laughs, turning to press a kiss to your temple. “How was work today babe?”

You smile at his enthusiasm and give in, detailing the monotonous work you had gotten up to at the office and mentioning how nice it was that everyone was out of town. Colton agrees, saying it was nice to see you at a game without the worry on your face of missing important work-related things. The two of you converse in hushed tones, not wanting to wake the neighbours because it’s well past midnight, until Perseus decides he’s had enough of running around and heads to the door. You follow him inside but stop in the kitchen, Colton nearly running into you because you stop so suddenly.

On the counter, beside the sink and in plain view, is the box housing Colton’s engagement ring. You must have left it there in your rush to get to the game, and forgot it was even out to begin with. How he didn’t see it when he came home is beyond you.

“What’s wrong?” Colton asks, concern lacing his voice. You aren’t one to freeze up and the fact that you did is unnerving for him.

You shake yourself out of it, not wanting to alert him to the presence of the foreign object in the room. “Nothing,” you sigh, “Just tired and sore from the game. You know those seats hurt my back.”

He doesn’t buy it and is quick to let you know. “I call bullshit. The patio chairs bother you more and you were fine. Just talk to me baby, I just want to help.” You’re sheepish, knowing you’ve been found out, and just keep staring at the box in silence because you don’t know what else to do. Colton scans the kitchen to figure out what has you so spooked and eventually lands on the black box that nearly caused you to have a heart attack. “What’s that?”

It’s as if a dam breaks inside of you. “It’s a fucking ring box, with a ring inside it. For you. I want to get married and I know you’re not pressed because we have all the time in the world but I love you and I want to officially spend the rest of my life with you as soon as possible. So I went and bought a ring with Tyler the other day because I decided I was just going to propose to you because fuck tradition you know? I love you so much that it hurts and I want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me. And I was going to think of a cute way to ask but I left the stupid thing on the counter when I got home and here we are.”

Shock, followed by amusement and wonder, take shape on Colton’s face, but he does a good job at recovering for your sake. You can’t believe your emotions came out like that, and want to curl into a ball and never see daylight again. “I’m just gonna go to bed,” you mumble, but Colton stops you from leaving with a gentle hand on your wrist.

“Wait babe, let’s talk about this.” That’s truly the last thing you want to do, but know it’s the adult approach. You sigh and turn back to face the man you love more than life itself.

Colton immediately pulls you into a hug, providing reassurance that what you said and how you feel is valid. You clutch the back of his t-shirt tightly, not wanting to ever let go because it means you have to face the gravity of the situation. Though it’s obvious Colton wants to talk he doesn’t push, which you greatly appreciate. Minutes pass before you pull away, pulling at the hair elastic on your wrist out of nervous habit.

“You want to marry me?” The question tumbles from Colton’s lips in a rushed manner like he can’t believe it. You nod while giggling, finding it funny that he could be so shocked. “Well then,” he smiles, “Let’s see the ring.”

With a bit more encouragement you leave his side and pad around the island, grabbing the box and making your way back to Colton. You hand the sleek black box to him, and cover your eyes while he opens it. If he hates it you’d rather not know, considering you poured your heart and soul into this decision. It’s silent for a few moments and you know Colton has opened the box. Going against yourself, you peek through your hands to see him crying.

“It’s beautiful,” Colton breathes, the words catching in his throat from the tears.

Unsure what to do you reach up to wipe the tiny water droplets from his face. “Don’t cry Colt,” you whisper, but your words are watery because you’re crying too. Before you can speak again he’s filling the silence with the one word you wanted to hear more than anything in the world.

“Yes.”

Tears flow freely from your eyes now, and if someone were to see the two of you through a window they’d be concerned. You know you look a mess but the only thing that matters to you is putting that ring on Colton’s finger and making it official.

“Yeah?” The question barely makes it past your lips before Colton is picking you up and slamming his lips against yours. You return the kiss instantly – giggling and trying your hardest to show him just how much you love him. It’s messy, all teeth as excitement gets the better of you both.

It feels like hours pass while you kiss Colton, legs wrapped around his waist as he supports the two of you. Eventually you pull away, too excited to see the ring on his finger, and jump down. Wordlessly he passes you the box and you slide the gold band onto the fourth finger on his left hand. The sight of it shining takes your breath away and a giddiness fills your soul.

“We’re getting fucking married,” you squeal, wrapping your arms around Colton again because you can’t contain your joy.

He laughs, big and loud and hearty, and meets your gaze with a fondness that is indescribable. “I think it’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”

You couldn’t agree more.

#colton parayko imagine #colton parayko x reader #st louis blues imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #hiiapl

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

As an aspiring writer myself, do you have any tips for writing fan fiction? What are your favorite tools (like an app or a device or even favorite thinking tool) that you use? Thank you for your time-👑🌻

aww i cant believe you came to me thank you :D

tips for writing... i'm usually the student not the teacher but i'll give it a go lol

1) i use google docs for all my writing bc it's easily accessible on all my devices and it autosaves my work (i had SO many issues with microsoft word lol). i also write on my laptop bc i type a lot quicker on laptop than mobile.

2) this is a general writing tip but i tend to write the dialogue first. it's not a tip i came up with (i cant find the post i saved it from) but i found it SO useful to write the dialogue for the scene first and then fill in tags/actions/movements etc. bc sometimes you just get stuck on how a character walks across a room or makes a certain movement. when you have the dialogue first, everything else often just falls into place around it.

3) this one may not work for everyone but when writing fanfiction, try to hear the person's voice in your head as you're writing their dialogue. if you're writing about Grian for example, imagine his voice saying the line and that should tell you if it's in character or not. this'll help you characterise them and make sure you're getting the tone right.

4) don't judge your writing based on others'. i know this is hard and i'm guilty of it myself bc there's so many amazing writers in this fandom but you'll have your own style and trying to copy others won't help. practising will help a lot with this as you develop your own voice. but the main thing is don't feel intimidated by others. you may think another writer's work is far better than yours but chances are they may feel the same about someone else's. you'll always judge your work harsher than your readers will bc you wrote it.

5) go where the motivation takes you. again, this one won't work for everyone but if you have more than one fic on the go, work on the one that you feel most motivation for. if there's one you feel guilty for not having updated in a while, don't force yourself to work on it bc it won't be your best work and you'll end up disliking the fic. eventually, the motivation will come back. write what you're currently in the mood for. at the end of the day, writing is meant to be a fun hobby, especially fanfiction writing.

6) don't be afraid to be self-indulgent. we write for ourselves first and foremost - other people's praise and feedback are just a bonus. sometimes you just gotta write something that you would love to read and sometimes these fics will never get posted and that's okay! having an archive of fics that you love, even if nobody else has ever read them, to read when you need motivation can really help. write the things you would love to read.

7) note all your ideas down in one document. this is a general writing tip. if you think of a plot idea, aesthetic, theme, dialogue idea, character idea, literally anything you'd like to explore, note it down in a special ideas document. you've no idea the amount of times i've realised that an idea i thought wouldn't fit in anywhere actually fits very well into the story i'm working on. save everything. you never know when you can use it.

this is all i can think of at the moment; i hope it helps! good luck!!

#vaunna’s asks

[stonefreeak]

I absolutely love your chancellor kenobi series and am so grateful that you've written so much of it, you have sparked much joy for me. I wanted to ask your advice as someone who has written & published a large AU with many moving parts. How do you choose what order to publish things in? Do you have an outline that you stick to, do you publish as you write it, do you go with the flow?

Hello! Thank you so much, I'm glad to hear that you enjoy it!

Now, I could probably tell a few horror stories about how I was structuring my files and writing early on before @veilofadyingstar clowned on me enough times to get me to not write more than 5 different fics in the same google doc, separated only by headers (yes really), but I don't think that's very conductive to your questions, so I'll leave it at that, lol.

Chancellor Kenobi (CK) started as directly-into-tumblr ficlets. As in, I wrote everything directly into the text post editor and then just tagged it and pressed save and that was that.

It was also, early on, sort-of-not-really a prompt fic. Basically, I started by writing a ficlet on an idea, and then people wanted more of that ficlet, so they sent me asks. Sometimes they did manage to hit on what I imagined would happen, sometimes they didn't (in which case I would tell them what actually happened). I have so many asks still that I planned on replying to with a ficlet but just forgot, which is why my inbox currently has 156 messages in it, lmao (sorry everyone who sent me an ask!)

Back when this was the format CK was in, back in December 2016, I posted ficlets in whatever order I wrote them. I updated daily back then, sometimes even twice per day. After 10 days of this (so on the 13th, with about 10ish ficlets to the story) I asked if people wanted me to collect everything in a masterpost, which they did, at which point I had to go back and actually double check the order of events.

This was all so early on in the story that I just posted ficlets as I wrote them, haphazardly adding them into the timeline where they belonged, without caring about posting order at all.

I had an idea of what would happen, and as it grew more complex and I got further into the story, I realised that posting things out-of-order wouldn't be feasible anymore. The ficlets were becoming far too context dependent (because of the complexity and details of the plot) so even though I was still writing ficlets in the order of "whatever strikes my fancy", I now had to wait with posting until it was actually the next bit of the plot, this is when my updates started to slow down a lot, because yeah...

I started writing down an outline of events, but I never finished that, and I've since lost it lmao. So the actual plot, the story, the details... all of that lives only inside my head. I'm mentally keeping track of everything.

Which, honestly, I don't think I recommend that LMAO

After all, keeping it all in your head means that if you forget something, lmao, it's gone. bye bye

However, I did mention fairly recently that I'd done some organising of my files where I properly placed files out in order and name them, which now kind of works as an outline, lol (I use a writing subscription service for a gamified writing experience called 4thewords). However, there are a few blank files in between the named ones because I know I need more stuff in there in between the named events so it's not really a proper outline either.

So. I still write the fic out of order, which is something I can easily do due to the format I'm writing it in: interconnected ficlets as chapters. This means that I have ficlets that are far in the future of what I have posted, but they cannot yet be posted for the simple reason that the plot is now so complex that things need to be posted in order, otherwise it won't make sense.

As such, I no longer publish as I write, though I used to. At this point, the fic has grown too large and has too many moving pieces for that to be feasible.

Generally, I usually like to finish a fic before I post it, because that means that I can go back into early parts and edit them if need be (say I come up with something cool I need to foreshadow, or I realise that I mentioned something too early, or I realise I introduced a plotline I dropped so it's better to edit it out etc etc). That's not really possible with CK anymore (though, I mean, I guess I could go back and secretly edit stuff and pretend like nothing's up, lmao) so it's entirely possible that this fic has some inconsistencies etc (though I do my best to ensure there aren't any, there's always the risk I've missed something).

Writing CK and sharing it with all my readers has been an amazing experience, and I dearly hope people are not only willing to stick with me to the end, but also that they will feel like the pay-off was worth it.

For some people, finishing a fic before posting doesn't work because they need engagement to keep going, which is absolutely valid! For that, I think having a more structured outline is very useful in order to keep things clear and avoid accidental plot holes. It's no guarantee of course.

Ultimately, how you post and how you write comes down to you as an individual writer.

For me, it's rather flexible. Sometimes I write things in a strictly chronological order from start to finish and that's it. Sometimes I skip around in the story and need to make sure I leave very large empty spaces (metaphorical or literal) so I know where there's missing content that need to be written before the story is finished.

All of this is of course very much personal to me, and what works for one writer might not work for another. But I hope it gives you some help and some insight, perhaps.

Happy writing, anon!

#Supreme Chancellor Obi Wan Kenobi #writing #I got an ask! #anonymous #how I write #writing tips #well #kind of #long post

[likeawildthing]

Not to be morbid on main, but everyone dies and people are rarely prepared for it. It’s so much easier when you know your loved one’s wishes. So even if you’re a teenager or twenty-three and healthy, I hope this helps you start thinking about end-of-life wishes, because it can happen to us all (both the dying and, rudely, being died upon).

Cremations are an affordable way to subvert the funeral industry, but going this route puts the burden of “the little things” on the family. I’ve learned a lot in the last 36 hours and wanted to pass those things that weren’t on any checklists, because the burden is on you to navigate the process.

Putting this under a cut because it’s so long (although not comprehensive). Obviously some of this is altered because COVID and some is meant to be applicable in some distant, theoretical future when we can go out to lunch again.

Before you die

Think about it, talk about it, write it down

Think about what kind of rememberance you want, if any. If it doesn’t matter, tell people that so they don’t fret about it and grieve in whatever way works best for them.

Communicate now to save your family and friends angst later.

Build an “in case of death” binder, zip drive, google doc with links, etc. Make sure your passwords are up to date so that’s not an administrative nightmare for your loved ones.

Advanced directives. Here’s a great article explaining the types of medical advanced directives and decisions to make before an accident or illness happens, including whether you want to donate your organs.

We lost grandma for about twenty minutes yesteday because we couldn’t find the paperwork and grandpa couldn’t remember where they signed up for services. Death. Binder. Have a death binder/folder/zip drive so no one loses grandma.

Insurance. 

You likely have insurance through work, so consider that. It will also expire if you leave your job.

You can usually get, with minimal fuss, a 10- or 20-year term policy with enough to cover your arrangements and debts for less than $20 a month. Death expenses are anywhere from $5-$20k, conservatively. 

Talk to your auto insurance agent and score a multi-line discount.

Body snatchers. 

If you want to be cremated, talk to a local crematory beforehand and give them your basic information. It can be paid out of your estate (i.e. by your family or a life insurance policy) when it happens. 

Most funeral homes (I believe) require pre-payment. It’s super morbid but there are TONS of heavily discounted grave sites for sale on Craigslist if that’s the route you want to go. 

Here’s a list of certified green burial sites in the US.

Donating your body to science 101.

Memorial service. 

The idea of a “proper” funeral is more or less out the window, especially in the time of COVID. Celebration of life? Religious ceremony (or not)? A picnic at your favorite park? Anything goes, so figure it out now. 

When my sister-in-law died, we had a celebration of life at a non-profit who donated the space and had a poker tournament with her ash tin (she lost). 

Whether you have strong or no preferences, write that down to guide decision-making. 

Memorials. 

Traditionally people would donate money in the event of a death to a charity, foundation, or family account, or flowers to a funeral home or church.

 Family accounts (like for children) are traditionally done in care of the deceased’s bank but online fundraisers are a thing. 

If you have a particular charity you love, add this to your list of wishes.

Food. 

Before COVID it was pretty typical for there to be some kind of meal after a funeral. Will this be a restaurant? 

This is ultimately up to the family but if you have strong preferences (i.e. no church or Italian food), tell people now.

Obituary. 

Writing down the basic facts of your life, hobbies, and accomplishments you want included in your obituary means your family doesn’t have to do a guessing game. 

Plants, animals, stuff, etc.

Do you want your clothes to go to a specific charity? 

Do you NOT want your stuff to go to a specific charity? (Goodwill is terrible!)

Who will get your car (person, donate, sell)? Want to have your record collection to go one sister? Obviously family will divvy up stuff how they like, but write down any special considerations.

Have a plan for your pets (insurance, vet info, guardianship).

Please organize and digitize your photos if they aren’t already.

If you lose someone close:

Identify the primary griever

Support that person/those people by providing feedback when solicited, running errands as needed, and running interference so they aren’t inundated with all the little things.

Notifying people

Use the phone tree method. Great Aunt M will be happy to help by calling your cousins. Your boss, coworkers and HR. Your mom’s best friend/your adoptive aunt, your mom’s bunco group. 

Ask that family not put anything on social media until the principal people are informed. I found out my grandpa died on facebook!

Esp these days, set boundaries for visits (who, where, and in what capacity).

Designate one person to be the primary contact for extended family to keep the burden off the primary griever(s). 

Give this persons’ information when the first phone calls are made. It also makes sense for this person to be the travel coordinator. 

This person should have a good handle on family dynamics (i.e. my aunt is flying in and would drive my grandma nuts so she’s staying with Mom). 

This should be their only task because it’s time consuming.

Food

When people die, people gather, even in the time of COVID. Be responsible but expect a ton of drop by food. Clean out the primary griever’s fridge in anticipaton.

Organization

Start a shared family Google doc or sheet. Consolidate to do lists, anecdotes, important contact information, questions and inquiries, etc. 

Pay to have the houses of anyone hosting (gatherings, people coming in from out of town, etc.) cleaned. Or, delegate. This can be an act of service for someone who wants to help and doesn’t mind doing the work. 

Find the death binder (hopefully), legal documentation, etc. Get a folder or binder for papers if one doesn’t exist. And start a shared google doc for loved ones to track everything.

Delegate

I know I have said this three times, but it’s important. If you’re a primary decision maker do not be the primary do-er. My mom is the primary decision maker so my sisters and I are doing literally everything else. 

Say YES when people ask if they can help you. Look at your running list of to-dos and say yes.

Pay to have the houses of people who are hosting cleaned. It will seriously be such a life saver, or this can be an act of service for someone who wants to help.

Social media

You will need to decide what to do with a person’s social media. Do you start a tribute page? Turn their facebook (if they’re old) into a tribute page for a time? Indefinitely? Things to think about. 

Thank yous

Keep a running list of people to thank after via hand-written thank you notes. The link includes guidelines on 

who should receive a thank you note (gave flowers, brought food, made donations, helped with arrangements or the service(s), did readings, or went well out of their way to warm your heart or show up)

when to send them (ideally 2-3 weeks after the funeral)

here’s how to write them (it doesn’t matter if you buy fancy, ones or dollar store ones, make sure they’re hand written).

Receipts. 

Don’t be the petty biatch your cousins hate, but do save significant receipts to be reimbursed by the estate. (I.e. catering hundreds of dollars of food, paying $250 for programs and thank-you cards like I just did, etc.)

Service.

You will have a million decisions to make including

what kind of service to hold, if any

where to hold it

costs

hymns, readings, and anecdotes to share

who will be pall bearers, readers, vocalists, and give eulogies

Crematories handle cremation only, not the service details. 

you will need photo boards (Hobby Lobby has nice black foamcore ones) or a powerpoint (and a way to display it depending on the venue)

a guest or memorial book

a card basket,

memorial cards, possibly programs, and thank you cards 

Officiants, musicians, religious institutions, etc. all need to be paid (and tipped) for their time.

If we ever wrangle this pandemic, donating funeral flowers to a nursing homes is a fantastic way to brighten residents’ days. 

Obituary.

Obituaries are expected, but traditionally costly ($200-$800). As part of the publishing fee, most newspapers keep the obituary on legacy.com indefinitely.

A funeral home will assist you with this, but the burden will be on you and your loved ones if using other methods. 

These take hours to write and many hands does not make light work. Keep it to 2-4 key people. Having the facts laid out will help, and so will looking at other obituaries. I read a great tip which was to write about your loved one in present tense first, then change the tense before submission. 

Newspapers will update your spelling and grammar but that’s about it. Cheaper alternatives: 

Death notice which gives age, date and location of death, and who is handling funeral arrangements. Our crematory put in the death notice for us because they had her body, but the requirements on this likely vary state-to-state. 

Here is a place to put a free online obituary.

Plants, animals, stuff, etc. 

Save the plants and pets. 

Household misc. are usually not dictated by the will, except in special circumstances or contested items. Closest members will go through possessions first. Voice early if you want something in particular, but understand that you may not get it. That’s ok. 

Going through someone’s life is an overwhelming process. You may be repulsed and sad and overwhelmed and amused, all at the same time.  

In deciding what to keep, as I’ve now cleared out three houses, I’ve found that quality over quantity is the way to go. The sweet spot? 1-2 sentimental + useful things. My great grandmother’s thimble and juicer? Use them all the time, and I remember her lemonade. 

It’s okay to throw away some keepsakes and let things get thrown out or donated, depending on the thing. 

Don’t give into guilt if you don’t want the china your Aunt Karen is pressuring you into taking when she doesn’t want it either.

Legal stuff. 

If someone dies, there will be all kinds of legal things you will need to do (bank accounts, utilities, debtors, education, etc.), investments or 401k, etc. 

This varies too much by state and circumstance to talk about in depth but there are guides to specifically help you.

If someone you love has lost someone they love

Do not give platitudes or ask if they’re ok

Don’t expect a response from someone grieving

Do send a card! It’s so thoughtful. I keep a stack of blank condolence cards and a set of forever stamps in my closet. It doesn’t have to be a $20 card to be special.

Don’t judge someone by how they grieve

Offer specific, actionable help if you’re close enough to give it

I am going to come over and clean at 10, leave the house unlocked

I’m at the store and am going to buy cheap vodka unless you tell me what kind of wine you want

oops I got you an uber eats gift card in your gmail sorry/not sorry

Buy thank you cards with stamps as a condolence gift, depending on the person and situation

Send a plant instead of a bouquet of flowers

Make a donation in the loved one’s name if you have the funds

If the grieving person is someone super close (best friend, sister, etc.) add the date in your recurring calender so you can check up on them this day next year with a card and/or phone call

#cw death #grief #end-of-life decisions

[spnfanficpond]

Pond Diving - Imagineteamfreewill

Welcome to today’s Pond Diving Spotlight! We hope that you enjoy this little insight to our members and perhaps even find some useful tips for your own writing. Happy reading!

Want to volunteer, send us an ask! We’re looking forward to learning more about all of you! Not sure what PD is, you can learn more here.

“Don’t Be Koi About It” - All About You

Name: Meg

Age: 20s

Location: United States

URL: @imagineteamfreewill

Why did you choose your URL: I first started out structuring my stories as imagines, and the “Team Free Will” part was pretty obvious.

What inspired you to become a writer: Reading Supernatural fanfiction inspired me to get back into writing, but I’ve always enjoyed it. My mom likes to talk about how when I was in Kindergarten, I drew a picture about how I wanted to be an author and now I write in my free time.

How long have you been writing: According to tumblr, I’ve been writing fanfiction since 2014, but I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember.

What do you do when you are not writing i.e. Job/Hobbies etc? I’m a music teacher, so I sing and play piano, and I’ve played a bit of cello and tenor saxophone as well. I love movies, baking, sleeping, and a few video games.

How long have you been in the SPN Fandom? I joined sometime around Season 8 or 9, I think. I don’t really remember!

Are you in any other fandoms and do you write for them? I really enjoy Marvel and I’ve read a lot of Marvel fics, but I don’t write for them. I like a lot of TV shows (New Girl, Parks and Rec, The Good Place, Outlander, etc), but I wouldn’t consider myself part of the fandom.

Do you do any writing outside of fanfiction? If so, tell us about it? I love to write poetry. I had a poetry blog at truenorth-ink a while ago, but I haven’t updated it recently at all. Most of my poems aren’t published or posted anywhere.

Favorite published author: I love some of the early series by Rick Riordan and I also really enjoy poetry by Nikita Gill and Atticus. Lately, I've really been getting into Leigh Bardugo's books.

Have you ever read a book that made an impact on your life? Which one and why?: I think "East" by Edith Pattou really affected me! I read it when I was in 6th-8th grade and I think about it often. I think it's something that really stuck with me and got me interested in fantasy books so much. I read it at least once a year.

Favorite genre of fanfic (smut, angst, fluff, crack, rpf, etc): I love angsty stuff, and most of the time I prefer it when it has some fluff mixed in. Straight fluff is often hard for me to read because I need something that’s more realistic for my own life and point of view. I also really like whump, but that can be a lot sometimes so it depends on my mood.

Favorite piece of your own writing: I don’t know if I have a favorite, but I loved writing Back to the Start (my mermaid series) and The Switch (a canon-divergent apocalyptic Reader x Sam series). Right now, I'm really enjoying my Consort series (a Goddess!Reader x Dean series). Creating my own rules in my own little universes is one of my favorite things to do, especially since I can’t always do whatever I want in real life.

Most underrated fic you have written: Empire. I loved getting to write Boyking!Sam because it was so different from my normal Sam stories and I did a lot of research for it. I’m pretty proud that the story never got too bloody or gory, too, so if you want some Boyking!Sam that’s not drenched in blood (for lack of a better term), I’m your girl!

Story of yours that you’d most like to see turned into a movie/tv show: Probably Back to the Start or The Switch. I think those two series would be amazing to see with J2, the rest of the cast/characters I included, and special effects! There’s so much I’d want to explore with both of them that I didn’t put into the series.

Favorite Tumblr Writer(s): @luci-in-trenchcoats, @sunlightdances, @supernaturalfreewill, @lipstickandwhiskey, @smol-and-grumpy, @percywinchester27, and @kaz2y5-imagines

Favorite fic from another writer:  I don’t think I could pick just one, but I’ve read all of @sunlightdances Dean fics multiple times. Her works got me through some pretty sucky times in my life and I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of her writing! I’ve also been reading her Bucky fics recently and it’s made me love Marvel fics even more than before!​

Favorite character to write: Sam Winchester

Favorite Pairing to write: Reader x Sam (Reader x Dean is a close second)

Least favorite character to write (and why): I don’t like to write for Crowley or Gabriel. Gadreel is hard for me even though I can do it, but I don’t understand Crowley or Gabriel’s personalities at all because they’re literally so far away from mine.

Do you have anyone you consider a mentor? No, although @lipstickandwhiskey and @kaz2y5-imagines really encouraged me in my writing!​

Do you have any aspirations involving your writing? I would love to write a non-Supernatural work of fiction to publish, but that’s a long way off.

How many work-in-progress stories do you have: Oh Lord, I have so many! I have at least four series and two one shots in the works right now. I've also got over 100 one shots/series plotlines written out in the notes on my phone and various Google Docs.

What are you currently working on? I’m currently working on a Cinderella series, my Underworld series, my Puer Rex series, my Consort series, an Author!Sam fic, and an Author!Dean fic. I also write stories for my Words series now and again.

“Pond Diving” - All About The Writing

What/who has had the biggest influence on your writing? Reading other people’s work. The intense storylines of @luci-in-trenchcoats ’s fics have gotten me to be more bold with my writing and the emotions and description in @supernaturalfreewill’s works have inspired me to let my work have more feeling.

Best writing advice you've been given: Not necessarily writing advice, but I was once told that anything worth doing is worth doing at least a little bit every day. Think about it—if you wrote even just five minutes a day, how much better will you get over the course of a month? A year?

Biggest obstacle you’ve faced in your writing: Repetition of words and commas. So many commas and so many uses of the same word over and over again. It’s a hard balance between using the word and using synonyms without sounding like I’m sitting there googling synonyms for “said”. I also tend to spend a lot of time on things that I think are super important but aren’t really important in the long run. I’m wordy as hell and my writing would be dull if I didn’t edit it as thoroughly as I do.

What aspects of writing do you find difficult when you write fanfiction? A lot of times I have these ideas that I think would make a great series but I don’t think through them, so planning out the plot of a series (or even a standalone fic) beforehand is something I struggle with.

Is there anything you want to write but are afraid to (and why): I would love to write more fics that have the characters dealing with severe mental disorders or that take place in a mental hospital, but I’m afraid that I’ll portray something wrong and solidify harmful stereotypes about what it’s like to deal with those things.

What inspires/motivates you to write: Honestly, just wanting to write things that I enjoy. Sometimes I get sick of reading other peoples’ stuff since it’s not exactly what I want, so I just write my own!

How do you deal with self doubt: Understand that sometimes it happens. You’ll doubt yourself—everybody does. If I’m doubting myself or my writing, I’ll take a break until I remember why I write. Then I’ll remember that yeah, writing for an audience is fun, but I write because I have cool ideas I want to explore, not because I need the attention or love of strangers. Lastly, I’ll reread my old fics, especially the ones I love, and then I’ll go back and edit old fics that I haven’t looked at in a while. That way I can see how I’ve improved and I don’t feel so terrible anymore! Reading my own fics is a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine, and I’ll read through my masterlists every once a while just to remind myself of the things I’ve loved, where I’ve been, and where I’m going.

How do you deal with writer's block: Like I said, I reread old fics and edit old fics that I haven’t looked at in a while. Seeing the things I’ve done before always helps to focus me. I’ll also read other people’s stuff or talk about headcanons with some friends to try and find some inspiration.

Do you plan/outline your story before you start: Lately I have been, but only because my periods of intense inspiration and productivity are getting farther and farther apart because of my job. I’ve found planning it out to be more and more helpful, especially for my series. A lot of times if I get a great idea, I’ll outline the whole plot or any significant details I want to put in that one shot/series so that I can come back to it whenever I have the time or I’m inspired for it again.

Do you have any weird writing habits: I write best in places that are unfamiliar to me or in places/times where I shouldn’t be writing. Class? Writing. Airport terminal? Writing. 4am when I have to be up at 6? Writing.

Have you ever received hateful comments on your fic and how do you deal with it? Not that I remember! I feel like there’s probably been one or two over the years, but I probably just got upset about it with my friends for a while and then got over it.

Conversely: what’s been some of your favorite feedback on your fanfic? A long time ago, when I was writing Back to the Start, I had one person who sent me asks for every single series update. I screenshotted them and saved them on my laptop. There’s one particular one where they say that they’re happier because of my writing and honestly, isn’t that what we all strive for? That people’s lives are better because of our stories? I’ve also had some pretty great friends recently who’ve made it a point to reblog and send asks/messages on all my works, which has been so meaningful that I never replied to the asks. They’re sitting in my inbox and I go through and reread them sometimes when I’m feeling down.

If you could give one piece of advice to a new and/or struggling writer, what would it be?  ​Write down everything. If you come up with an amazing piece of dialogue, even if it’s just one sentence or one person talking, or if you come up with something you’d think would be a great title… WRITE IT DOWN. It doesn’t matter if it fits into whatever you’re currently writing or not, it’ll come in handy! I don’t know how many times I’ve gone through my idea list and found really obscure lines/titles/inspiration that didn’t make sense when I wrote them down, but are now exactly what I need to finish a fic. Even if you don’t end up using it, jotting down your ideas is still writing, and that’s good practice!

#pond diving #spnfanficpond

[iscream4clones]

Ok so first of all.... there are 514 of you??? HELLO???

I really don’t know what I did to deserve all of you lovely people??? But I can’t describe how much I appreciate all of the support I have received and all the fantastic people I have been able to meet!

I know I announced not too long ago that I was going to be clearing my drafts of fics that I had saved to read. I’m nearly done! That being said, I know I’ve missed a lot of people’s writing, especially stuff I have been tagged in. I apologize for not being the best with keeping up on reading things! But there’s literally so many good writers here, I wish I had the time to read everything but I really do not. Please though, if you really want me to read something of yours, I encourage you to send it to me via MESSAGING so that I can find it easily. Even with tumblr sorting notifs my tags are still a mess.

With fics though, if you’re wondering why I haven’t really read much of your work, but you also post mostly NSFW, that’s probably why. It takes... a lot for me to read NSFW work, and while I still want to try to reblog things so other people can see it, I also don’t really want my blog full of NSFW content. I hope you all can understand!

Now as for requests! I have a lot sitting in my inbox, so if you sent one, I definitely got it. I am going to be clearing my inbox though to start the new year fresh, and I will be moving them to my google docs. Some of them might end up being deleted if I don’t think I will be able to write something good for them though. I also believe I am going to be closing requests.

The rest of my updates below the cut!!

So... I have to take a break from writing

Some of you may have seen my post from the other night, but basically, my mental health has been shit. This has put an extreme damper on my creative and writing abilities which.... it’s not like I have been producing a whole lot recently anyway.

I also really need to strap down and finish my graduate school application, which is due the end of next month.

I might still be around to reblog some fics, maybe share and answer some asks for some follower interaction, but don’t really expect any content from me. I’m also not sure when I will be back, but I will be writing again eventually. I just need to focus on doing things for myself right now.

Please feel free to reach out to me on here or discord in the meantime, I still want to interact and talk to you guys, this includes even just sending me thoughts about clones or star wars or anything. I just won’t be writing fics.

Anyway, love you all and thank you all so much for being patient with me thus far, and for the continued endless support. I appreciate you all so very very much <3

#allison is screaming

[voltrontranscript]

VLD S8E1: Launch Date

Season 8 Episode 1: Launch Date

Transcript by @dragonofyang

Summary: It’s the final day on Earth before the protagonists launch back into space on the IGF-Atlas to face the Galra. Lance has a big question for Allura, and the Altean pilot Luca provides more questions than answers.

[Google Doc]

DOTU Pidge: Hold it, I’m getting all shook up!

Pidge: I don’t really sound like that, do I, Bae Bae?

[Cut to the medbay where Luca is surrounded by medics, as Allura observes through a window.]

Romelle: You know, back on the colony, Luca and I didn’t always get along. But despite that, I always respected Luca. She had an inner strength that many did not and a desire to be a part of something greater than herself.

Allura: If she was so desperate for something to believe in, it may have made her susceptible to being manipulated.

[Cut to the Garrison kitchens.]

Hunk: Alright, that’s all of it.

Hunk’s Mother: Here’s all our family recipes. And this is something special just for you.

Hunk: Banana cake! Mom, you’re the best!

Hunk’s Mother: Well, your father and I are just so proud of you, saving the universe and all. We love you.

Hunk: Launching tomorrow. The big day. It seems like it was forever ago when we piled into the Blue Lion and blasted out into space. Man, we had no idea what we were getting into!

Lance: Yeah.

Hunk: But, now it’s different. We’ve seen it all. We’re rugged veterans now, going back into battle one last time.

Lance: Mm, yup.

Hunk: Guess that makes us heroes or something? Like the type of heroes that would have their own TV show! Did you watch it, Lance? Ah, it’s so cool! It’s so cool. They got you spot-on, but Coran is like, he’s all super-serious and stuff. And Allura is a little… I don’t know, she’s different. Keith is friendly! He’s happy all the time. I mean, they got it so wrong. Plus, I think they’re hinting at some romance between him and Allura.

Lance: What?! Keith and Allura? No, it should be Lance and Allura!

Hunk: Ooh, a love triangle. I like where you’re taking this.

Lance: No, no. It’s not about that.

Hunk: Wait, that’s right. You said you were gonna ask Allura on a date. You asked her, didn’t you? Oh, and she said no. Oh. Oh, man. Here I am, rubbing your face in it.

Lance: She didn’t say no. I… Well, I never asked her.

Hunk: You chickened out?

Lance: I was going to ask her, but she’s been spending, like, every day in the med bay. Maybe… Maybe this just isn’t the right time.

Hunk: No, Lance. What? It’s the only time. After tomorrow, we’re back out in space fighting the Galra. There is no other time, literally. You’re asking her today, and that is final, young man.

[Scene change to a large meeting hall.]

Shiro: Everyone, welcome to our final briefing here on Earth. It’s been several months since we began to rebuild, and tomorrow we launch and continue our liberation efforts across all planets still under Galra rule. Commander Holt, what’s the latest from your team?

Sam: We’ve confirmed that there’s still no Galra activity within several galaxies of the Milky Way. It appears Earth was Sendak’s only target.

Shiro: Where are we with Earth’s defenses?

Keith: I finished my check-in with all the garrison facilities around the globe. All defenses are up and running. Earth has everything in place to keep itself safe.

Shiro: Great. And Atlas preparations?

Veronica: Repairs to the IGF-Atlas were completed early last week and it has since passed every test protocol we’ve put it through.

Shiro: Good. Any updates on the Altean pilot?

Allura: Still unresponsive, but she could wake any day now. Perhaps if we had a little more time, we could find out who sent her.

Keith: There’s no way to know when or if she’ll regain consciousness. We can’t wait any longer. We need to get back out there and end this war before the Galra can reorganize.

Shiro: Keith’s right. We’ll be in constant communication with Earth. When the Altean wakes up we’ll know. I have one more item to discuss. It’s our last night on Earth and we’ve got a lot of hard work ahead of us. We may not be back home for years. So I’m ordering you: take some time for yourselves. Be with the ones you love. You’ve earned it.

[Scene change to the hallway outside the meeting room.]

Lance: Hey, uh, Allura?

Allura: What is it, Lance?

Lance: Oh, nothing much. Just, uh, checking in. So, how are things?

Allura: I’m sorry, but I really need to be getting back.

Lance: Oh, right, yeah. Okay. Um, w-well, I don’t want to keep you, so… Oh! Uh, actually, I was wondering if--maybe, if you want to, you could have dinner with me tonight? A-and my family? Dinner with me and my family? My mom’s cooking for our last night together. I… I just thought you could join us.

Allura: That sounds wonderful, but I can’t.

Romelle: Allura, I know you’re worried about Luca, but we’re worried about you. It’ll be good to get away for a night and clear your head.

Lance: Right, yeah, all that stuff she’s saying. Totally.

Allura: Perhaps dinner would be nice. I’d love to.

Lance: Really? Awesome! Dinner tonight. Us. Yes.

Hunk: Okay, Loverboy Lance. Now walk away before she changes her mind.

[Scene change to the green room on the IGF-Atlas.]

Allura: Pidge, do you have a moment?

Pidge: Sure. What’s up?

Allura: Well, you see, I, um… I have a--

Romelle: She has a date… with pointy chin! Where are proper courting vestments obtained on your planet?

Pidge: Wait. A date? With Lance? Weird.

Allura: I was hoping you might be able to accompany me as I choose my proper attire in accordance to Earth’s custom.

Colleen: Katie? Fashion? That’s a good one.

Pidge: Well, I heard the mall has reopened. I’ve been wanting to check it out, but I’m grounded.

Romelle: Grounded? Oh, I wasn’t aware humans could float.

Pidge: No, no. It just means I’m not allowed to leave my mom’s supervision. It’s a form of punishment.

Allura: What are you grounded for?

Colleen: She’s grounded because apparently my daughter thinks that running away from home and gallivanting off into space without her mother’s permission is an acceptable activity for a fifteen-year-old.

Pidge: Well, apparently, finding my brother and saving my father [voice distorting] from an intergalactic tyrant doesn’t get me a pass!

Colleen: [voice distorting] Not on your life, young lady.

Allura: Please, Colleen, I could really use her help.

Romelle: We will not let her leave the ground once.

Colleen: Alright. But only because I know how much Katie hates shopping for clothing.

Allura: Thank you.

[Scene change to the med bay where Luca is kept.]

Sam: What is it?

Doctor: She’s stabilized, but we need to be careful about how we proceed.

[Scene change to Earth’s mall.]

Rizavi: Okay, Operation “Find Allura a Date Outfit” is go. We’re gonna take it one store at a time ‘til we come out of this place successful. Let the hunt begin! I love shopping. Don’t you, Ina?

Ina: It’s a primal urge from when collecting and gathering was a means of survival.

Rizavi: It just calms me, like skydiving. Now, come on, I’m gonna shop this mall so hard.

Pidge: Killbot Phantasm 26: Revengifiance! This is out?

Rizavi: Oh my gosh! It came out a few days before the Galra invaded. No one was ever able to reach the end.

Vendor: That’s right. I have one of the few undamaged units left.

Pidge and Rizavi: We’ll take it!

Vendor: Okay. Great to meet such passionate KBP fans. What have you got to trade?

Pidge: Trade? I, uh… I don’t really have anything.

Vendor: I’m sorry, but no trade, no game.

Rizavi: Well, that’s some way to treat a Paladin of Voltron.

Vendor: Wait what? You mean, like, from the show?

Pidge: Show? Well, kind of. It was based off me.

Vendor: My kid loves that show. The game is yours if I could just get an autograph for my daughter.

Pidge: [DOTU Pidge impression] Sure thing! Anything for the kids!

Pidge: [normal voice] Ah! Ooh?

Pidge: [DOTU Pidge impression] What?

Pidge: [high-pitched] You got it, chief! Far out! 

[Scene change to Lance in a residential hallway.]

Coran: Yes? Oh, Lance! To what do I owe this visit?

Lance: Hey, Coran. I wanted to ask you about Allura.

Coran: Sure. What is it? No one knows her better than I do. Except for maybe the mice. They do have a telepathic connection to her, which seems like cheating to me.

Lance: Right, yeah. Well, I’m going on a date with her tonight and--

Coran: What?! But you’re not even royalty! Or Altean! And you’re definitely not Altean royalty!

Lance: Whoa, Coran! Chill! I don’t think Allura even cares about stuff like that.

Coran: It’s not just about Allura. Did you even acquire permission from her primary guardian?

Lance: Well, who’s that?

Coran: Well, let’s see. Ah, me! Now, count to zingor, then knock.

Lance: But, Allura already said… Ugh!

Coran: Ah, Lance. Please, have a seat. Exactly what makes you think you’re qualified for such a prestigious position? For example, who are your references?

Lance: Position? References? What are you talking about?

Coran: You see, I’ll need at least two notarized certificates of commendation speaking of your greatness from reliable sources before I’ll even consider giving you my approval. And you must do something about that outfit. Altean courting vestments are essential. Seeing as we’re not on Altea, we’ll just have to make do.

[Scene change back to the mall.]

Rizavi: Oh, I’ve got a good feeling about this place. Allura, leave this to us. Ladies, divide and conquer!

Rizavi: I think we’ve done it.

Unilu Shopkeeper: Well, hello there. Is this everything?

Rizavi: Yep. Mission complete.

Unilu Shopkeeper: Let’s see, what have we got? A decorative tarp with casing, one foot container and its mirror match, and some miniature chain binding. That’ll be one phoeb of servitude from your small friend there.

Rizavi: What? A year?

Pidge: A month. I got this. [DOTU Pidge impression] How about you give us all this and I give you an autograph from a world-famous Paladin of Voltron?

Unilu Shopkeeper: No! Price just went up to three phoebs.

Allura: I could give you a royal decree of service from the Crown Princess of Alte… oh, right, I, um…

Romelle: I could bake you a decaphoeb’s worth of blomfruit pies. I just need blomfruits. You wouldn’t happen to sell any, would you?

Unilu Shopkeeper: Shipping will cost you ten phoebs of servitude alone.

Allura: Perhaps this was a bad idea. I don’t need the dress. Let’s just go.

Unilu Shopkeeper: Wait! I’ll give you a friendly deal. You can have this for Killbot Phantasm 26: Revengifiance.

Rizavi: No deal! What could you possibly need it for?

Unilu Shopkeeper: I’ve been looking to get my claws on that game for decaphoebs. I’m a huge KBP fan.

Rizavi: Mm-mm, sorry. No can do. I’ve waited three years to get to the end of this game.

Pidge: Fine, you can have it. We don’t have any time to play it, anyway.

Allura: Thank you, Pidge.

[Scene change back to the med bay.]

Sam: She’s stabilized, but she won’t speak to any of the doctors. I was hoping a familiar face might put her at ease. Maybe Romelle can help.

Coran: I’ll see if I can find her.

[Scene change to Black Lion overlooking the sunset.]

Lance: Man, you can be a real hard guy to find when you wanna be.

Keith: Hey, Lance. Whoa! What are you wearing?

Lance: Coran made it for me for my date with Allura.

Keith: A date with Allura? Wow! Well done, Lance.

Lance: Thanks, but it could be our last. I can’t keep all these Altean customs straight.

Keith: Listen, if she’s going out with you, it’s because she likes you. The annoying, stupid, Earth version of you.

Lance: You watching the sun set?

Keith: Yeah. Might be a while before we get to see it again.

Lance: Man, I’m really gonna miss this place.

Keith: That’s why we’ve gotta end this war. And we’re gonna do it with the Lance that’s the Paladin of the Red Lion. The Lance that’s always got my back. And the Lance who knows exactly who he is and what he’s got to offer.

[Scene change to Allura at Lance’s family home.]

Lance’s Mom: Come in, come in, my dear! Oh, you look wonderful! Doesn’t she look wonderful, Lance?

Lance: Wow. You look amazing.

Allura: Thank you. You look nice, too.

Lance: Well, it’s no Altean vestments, but...

Allura: Imagine you in a Forlongian brill hat.

Lance: Oh, Allura, this is my mom, and Pop-pop. You know Veronica. That’s Rachel, my brother Marco, other brother Luis, his wife Lisa, and their kids Silvio and Nadia.

[Scene change to the middle of dinner with Lance’s family.]

Marco: ...or the time when we were kids and Veronica mixed dirt with water and told Lance it was chocolate milk.

Veronica: Oh, yeah! I still can’t believe he fell for it.

Allura: What did he do?

Veronica: He told on me, of course. Then, Pop-pop gave him ice cream and I got none.

Marco: Yeah, Lance was always the baby of the family. It only took you coming to dinner to finally graduate him to the adult table.

Veronica: Speaking of dates, maybe you can put in a good word for me with that long-haired friend of yours, hm?

Lance: What, Keith?! No, no, no, no, no! No way. No.

Lance’s Mom: Lance never brings girls home. You must really mean something to him.

Allura: That’s strange. He always gave off the impression of being rather popular with women.

Lance’s Mom: Oh, he gets that from his father. It’s all talk, but if you can get past that, you’ll find a good boy with a big heart.

Veronica: A toast to family. Though we may be apart after tomorrow, we’ll always remain close at heart. Family is forever.

All: To family!

[Scene change to the med bay.]

Romelle: I’m so glad to see you’re alright, Luca. We can help. What happened to you? Where’s the colony?

Luca: So you can betray them yet again?

Romelle: What?

Luca: You abandoned us, Romelle. And for the Paladins of Voltron, the very ones who killed our savior, Lotor.

Romelle: No, it’s not like that!

Luca: You’ve sided with the great destroyers! She told us of their lies. She’s going to fix it all. She’ll reunite us with Lotor, with Altea. You don’t stand a chance against Honerva--

[Scene change to Lance and Allura walking along a park full of dead trees.]

Lance: This place used to be so beautiful.

Allura: It’s all my fault the Galra did this to your home.

Lance: No, it’s not your fault. Besides, meeting you is the best thing that ever happened to me.

Allura: When we were out there fighting against the Galra, I somehow felt like… like we were a family. Each of us was alone, but we were alone together. But now, here on Earth, I see that everyone already has a family and a home to return to once the war is over. Everyone except me. And for the first time, I feel uncertain about what my future holds. It’s silly, I used to think that the team relied on me. That I needed to be strong for everyone else. But now I see it was I that needed all of you. You are my strength.

Lance: Allura, you are not alone, and if I have anything to say about it, you’ll never be alone. I--I don’t care if this is only our first date. I… Allura, I love you. I have for a long time. I wanna be your family. Earth can be your home, or anywhere you wanna go. It doesn’t matter. I would follow you across the universe.

Allura: You truly feel that way?

Lance: With all my heart.

Lance: I think he wants us to smile.

[Scene change to the meeting room, this time only with Allura, Coran, Shiro, and Romelle.]

Allura: If Honerva sent that beast, then our mission must change.

Shiro: No, we have a plan and we need to stick to it. If Honerva’s really behind this, then I’m sure we’ll find her along the way.

Allura: Or she’ll find us.

[Scene transition to the outdoors, where the IGF-Atlas stands before a crowd of people.]

Sam: This will be perhaps the most defining moment in our history. The day humankind reaches beyond its home world to help the immense universe of which we inhabit such a small part.

Keith: In the blink of an eye, the world as we knew it became much larger than we’d ever thought possible. And now we rise up to join the fight alongside so many others different from us, but of like minds, to stand firm in the face of tyranny.

Allura: For all deserve to decide their own future as we have decided to spend ours ensuring the freedom of the universe.

Shiro: Each and every one of you has given something to this fight. Many have been lost, but not in vain because through their sacrifice, many more will live on. I make you this promise now. We will return triumphant.

End.

#vld #voltron #transcript #coran #allura #keith #hunk #lance #shiro #luca #pidge #romelle #sam holt #colleen holt #nadia rizavi #ina leifsdottir #veronica #marco

[creek-cryptid-deluxe]

So, It’s been awhile. There’s a reason. The last week or so has been... a week. jesus christ. I shall regale you of my tale, not in chronological order necessarily because that’s how I roll. BUT if you suffer through it, you shall be rewarded with an outdoor plant update post after. Bribery. 

So. Early last week, The Spawn sat down with me and presented a proposal, a well researched proposal, advocating for her starting her own residential cleaning business because she finds it incredibly satisfying and relaxing to clean stuff and she does quite well. So we sat and brainstormed, researched, and talked about how she planned to advertise. She needed a business gmail (and all the tools that come with that), logo, business social media, website, and flyers. 

Being her age, she doesn’t have the skill or knowledge to do these things. So, I volunteered to help with these things so that she didn’t have to spend money hiring someone. I created the email account, put all the brainstorm stuff into a google doc that saved to the biz drive, which included a to do list and the basic info needed. I created a logo. (At which point, she called me a wizard while watching me do so.) I helped her try to create a biz facebook account, but facebook immediately flagged it as breaking the rules. like literally as soon as I created it. So I appealed it & The Spawn wanted to wait to see what came of that before I went further. So she took me with her to shop for the things on her supply list, and we decided to go grab some of the smaller stuff still needed for J’s appt at the same time. This was Friday. 

Saturday, I got a text from J in the early afternoon saying that he needed me. I quickly packed a ‘just in case’ bag, since I didn’t know what to expect or how long I would be there. Now, you have to understand that in the 7 years we’ve been friends, while he has discussed things with me via phone or text, in person he is like me, incredibly stoic. Hell even via text or phone, he always insists that he’s fine and responds to my reminders that i’m here if he needs someone, and to just let me know, he responds “I appreciate it, but I won’t”. So him reaching out like that is a MASSIVE thing. I showed up, let myself in, and he just walked up to me, wrapped his arms around me and started sobbing. I stayed the night, alternating between being comforting and being distracting. It was extremely disarming to see such raw emotion from him repeatedly over the course of the night and to hear him say the things that he is usually uncomfortable articulating. 

The next morning he seemed better, thanked me for coming (to which I responded “Of course I came. I’ve not ever been lying when I’ve said that I’d come if you needed me, day or night, but you have to let me know.”) and apologized for ‘being a mess’. I told him every time he apologized (which happened quite a bit over the course of the night) that there was no need for an apology because this wasn’t something to be sorry for. He was struggling, as people do, and rather than embrace the darkness or fight it alone, he asked for help from someone he trusts and loves that he knows reciprocates. That i know how hard it is for him to do that and that I am proud of him. 

Sunday afternoon the kids (The Spawn and The Bf) picked me up because she needed to take him home but didn’t want to leave the dogs alone. I got in the car after The Bf got into the back, insisting I take the front seat. We hadn’t even gotten out of the parking lot of the apartment complex when The Spawn casually asked “So are ya’ll fucking?” 

that’s how I learned that I was the subject of a bet. Apparently, The Bf asked where I was when he came over and out of convenience, not wanting to really explain the relationship, The Spawn said I was at my boyfriend’s. I guess he went on about how how come I’m never hanging out with him, etc, so The Spawn explained the actual nature of our relationship. At the end The Bf said “Nah, they fuckin’ but your mom isn’t telling you.” The Spawn said, “No, she’d tell me because when I started high school I asked her about her past encounters and asked about what stuff was, if she’d done it, and if she enjoyed it, and she was always honest with me. That’s how I know she likes it up the butt.” He insisted that J and I were banging so The Spawn, knowing the truth, took advantage of this and made a bet. It was an easy win for her. SO...

I get asked this question & I look at her, eyebrows raised because she knows how our relationship is (granted if I were physically able and he was willing, I would definitely jump back up on that horse) and said, “No. Mom is no longer physically capable of fucking without risk of severe injury. Plus, despite having ridden that horse previously, I’m not into endangering our besties status. I would go into further detail and commentary but I don’t want to make The Bf uncomfortable. These are things you know, so why do you ask?” She told me of the bet, Then i promptly text J about it because I knew he’d get a laugh out of it. And I was right. 

By the end of Sunday, she recieved an email stating that facebook was upholding the ban, so she and I talked and decided to make a webpage via WIX and after getting a few clients, she could upgrade her account with them to get extras that are offered, including her own domain (rather than the name.wix address) and a lack of wix ads on her page.  And then it all went downhill from there.

Monday through Wednesday (yesterday) had The Spawn breathing down my neck more than any boss I’ve ever fucking had about when her business shit would be done. On top of what I’d already done, between Monday and Wednesday I:   set up her google voice account for a business number, wrote her a “first time client” script, created a google sheets quick reference client database, created a google forms for detailed client records (all in a folder together that is searchable by client name, which would be the title of the form), set up the calendar, downloaded and edited/collaged her before and after photos she took via cleaning some of our spaces, and built her a 7 page website including the photos, facts, and little blurbs that go along with it. It went live at the end of yesterday. 

Throughout this process, rather than just checking in and thanking me for doing it all to save her money, she asked me every couple hours what still needed to be done. When I was not as far along as she felt I should be, she got progressively more hostile. Yesterday morning she had the balls to text me “What all do we still need to do before I can get rolling?” I responded with “ ‘We’? hahahahaha *I* still need to [list].” 

I’m sure you’re saying to yourself, “Am I missing something? Did you forget to list something in the list of stuff you did between Monday and Wednesday? You mentioned flyers....” You are correct. But yesterday while I was being driven to my 2nd vax appointment by my father, I basically told him that I’m fried. If a flyer just included facts, I’d be fine, but the part where I need the potential customers to be drawn in and want to learn more is not happening. The creative well has run dry to the point that it is reminiscent of the dust bowl. And I reminded him that there is a reason I no longer do this type of shit for a living. I mentioned that thinking about The Spawn’s company is making me stress puke and that any time The Spawn approaches me to talk about anything, I immediately feel incredibly nauseated. 

Now it should be noted that when I mentioned this in a multi paragraph text earlier, he responded with “Just take a step back from it for awhile, then go back to it.”    

and everyone wonders why on earth I don’t speak up when I hit my limits and why I just push onward despite the damage it does to me. THIS. THIS IS WHY. Everyone is all for me not pushing myself too hard... until it is inconvenient for them. So I basically screamed in the car. On the way back he said he’d help. Ok. cool. 

Except that every fucking idea he had legit just tripled the amount of work I was going to have to do. I mentioned being burned enough that I was considering just paying a freelancer to do it. This motherfucker chimes in with “Oh! [Cool Ex Employee Who Left to be a Stay at Home Mom with her First Baby] does stuff like that. Let me reach out to see if she’d be willing to.” BRUH. That should have been the first thing out of your mouth after my original texts! Jesus Christ. I agreed but with the caveat that HE had to tell The Spawn and say it was his idea because he sees me getting overly stressed and has put his foot down. And he had to do it that night because I knew that if he didn’t, the first thing I’d hear today was “So when are my flyers going to be done?” and I am absolutely not dealing with that shit. The only thing I am doing from this point forward is showing her how to use her database/client files/calendar and I will be happy to answer questions or give advice, but that’s it. This isn’t my company and I’m not employed by her, so I’ve already put in far more work than should have been expected of me, with very little thanks outside of after I finished her logo and a couple times she came down and watched, then told me I’m a fucking wizard. 

Really It was good in a way because I had been doing that thing lately where I wonder if I’m just being dramatic because admin type stuff isn’t that hard and if I could do it from home, I should be able to manage... but this put me back down on earth, where I absolutely am not being dramatic and I cannot fucking do that shit 40 hrs a week for some random asshole. Shit, this was for my own child and I was ready to give up, stab her, then tell her to go fuck herself.

so...that’s been my last week and a half for so. Also, my only side effects from Vax 2 (pfizer) is feeling more tired/run down than usual and a bit of extra joint pain... but those might actually be related to the stress and hell I just went through. who knows. 

as always, don’t steal my shitshow. get your own shitshow. suffer through your own crap. 

[danzinora-switch]

Writing Update

I know I’ve been very quiet in the fanfiction community lately (and I do intend to finish As a Doctor, c’mon, I’ve only got 3 chapters left) so here’s what’s up:

I haven’t had Microsoft Office since April.

When I got my new laptop, it was Windows 10, and since I don’t have the old product key when I got Microsoft Office 2010 on my old one I had to use Microsoft 365. However, since I don’t believe in paying a $99/yr subscription fee for a product I had already been using for free (for all intents and purposes) I haven’t had Microsoft anything since that free trial expired. I want to get the Home/Student version, but that’s still $149. Since I’ve been switching insurances and other life stuff, I haven’t been able to justify the cost.

BUT, this month I should get an “extra” paycheck, so I’m hoping by the end of July I can restore writing ability on the computer and finish/work on some fics. It’s been driving me crazy that I haven’t had the ability to just... open up a blank document and write.

What about Google Docs? I have used them a little, and it saved a McCoy fic I had started back working on in March when my laptop died (uploading that fic to the drive was literally the last thing I ever did on that laptop) but... it’s not my favorite. I have an entire desktop folder organized just right for my ideas, and I also write as a way to think, figure things out, and work through my emotions, so writing stuff like that on the cloud, well, doesn’t feel as private as I would like. I use it when I absolutely have to... but Microsoft Word is home for me.

So with any luck, I’ll be back by August!

#writing #fanfiction #danzinora switch #as a doctor

[elsaclack]

imma just state for the record that while i really want you to get on writing the next chapter of the royalty AU, i also REALLY REALLY WANT YOU TO WRITE ANOTHER SEGMENT FROM YOUR OLD “JAKE CAN SENSE AMY’S FEELINGS” SOULMATE AU LAKSJDFLAKSDJF 😍😭💕 (idk if the old drabbles still exist online at this point but wow i think about that AU maybe once every 16 minutes, i’m a mess)

HELLOOOOOOO ERICA i’m not even sure if you remember sending this to me, it’s been sitting in my ask box for THAT LONG!!! but it’s been too long since i’ve been able to write anything i’m really REALLY proud of so i decided that tonight is the night!! and when i went to my ask box to knock out a prompt, this one literally started writing itself!!!!

lmao!!!!

SO YEAH u said another segment from the soulmates can feel each other’s emotions au and i thought what better segment to write than the one you liked the most out of the old ones that i STUPIDLY forgot to save/crosspost before i deleted!!! aka i rewrote it LMAO

it’s. Different than it was before but that’s because i had no idea what i was doing before and now i kind of have half of an idea about what i’m doing lmao it references one of the other one-shots and i’m about 95% sure i still have that one as a google doc so after i copy and paste this bad boy into a google doc, i’ll double check that i still have that other one too :-))))))))))))))

ANYWAYS THANK YOU FOR THIS AND THANK YOU FOR THE ROYALTY AU I PROMISE I WILL FINISH IT PLEASE ACCEPT THIS AS AN APOLOGY FOR BEING SO FREAKING LATE ON UPDATING LMAO

Amy’s front door is incredibly old.

There are places between the grains of wood in which the paint has seeped and morphed together before it dried, Jake notes.

He’s been staring at said grains for the better part of five minutes now - or, at least, that’s how long he’s been aware of the fact that he’s been staring at said grains. It’s really stupid, all things considered. Stupid that he’s paralyzed on her doorstep when he’s trudged across it more times than he can count. Stupid that he’s been standing her motionless for so long, he’s certain he looks like a weird stalker to any of her neighbors who might be looking through their peepholes out into the hall. Stupid that with every second that passes, the ice cream in this plastic bag melts a little more.

Stupid that every time he inhales, he feels her split and aching heart, feels her loneliness, feels her bitterness, all as real and intimate as if they are his own.

Something happened half an hour ago. He’s not entirely sure what - hasn’t tried sussing it out beyond the initial bombardment - all he really knows is that he was home, on his couch, content with his Jurassic Park with limited commercial interruptions, and then it felt like the whole earth was falling to pieces and he knew.

So maybe he is sure about what happened - she’d mentioned as she left the precinct earlier that she had dinner plans with Teddy tonight. And it’s odd, how beyond his immediate concern for her, he feels his own undeniable sense of hope rising. His soulmate - who doesn’t know she’s his soulmate - is single once again.

Finally.

Maybe, he’d told himself as he mindlessly snatched his keys off the counter and jogged out of his apartment. Maybe.

“Amy?” He calls as he raps his knuckles against the door. Her emotions flicker in a familiar rhythm against his breast - a split-second of surprise, a mix of confusion and apprehension, a lick of irritation. “Ames, it’s me. You home?”

(Of course he knows she’s home, but this is all for her benefit, he’s not going to come gallivanting in ten minutes into her single-hood toting ice cream and a declaration of his undying love and an oh, yeah, I’ve been meaning to tell you I’m your soulmate -)

Her apprehension and irritation are gone now, giving way to a much larger portion of pure confusion. “Jake?” he hears her voice moving, muffled, but close beyond the closed door. The light seeping out through the peephole flickers as her head moves by. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” he says as nonchalantly as he can. “Your drug store had a better deal on ice cream - two-for-one.” He hoists the bag up a little higher, as if the opaque brown plastic will back his claim. “I figured since I was already in the neighborhood, I’d come by with dessert.”

Her confusion grows more intense - the light has not returned to the peephole. “I told you I had a date tonight,” she says slowly.

He’s lucky she can’t feel his emotions - otherwise, she’d register the spike of panic jutting up in his chest. “Oh, that was tonight?” His voice cracks beneath the pressure of his scrambling ruse; the skin of his forehead is in danger of ripping for how grotesquely his brows have contorted into what he can only hope is an expression of shock. “I thought you said that was tomorrow!”

“No, tonight.”

“Maybe it really is time to invest in one of those planny-thingies.”

“Why, so you can keep track of my date schedule? And don’t pretend like you don’t know they’re called planners, you got me one for Secret Santa last year.” There’s a savagery to her tone echoed by a twist of pain in her chest; he opens his mouth, but her immediate pulse of regret gives him pause. “I’m sorry,” she says, now much quieter, and he can’t pretend to hide his concern any longer.

(It’s not like he’d have to work that hard to come up with an excuse - she’s practically an open book, especially to him, even with a closed door between them, and it certainly doesn’t help that he’s an amazing detective-slash-genius.)

“Are you okay?”

The pain in her chest seems to wrench a little wider, pierce a little deeper. “I don’t know,” she says, and the light in the peephole reappears a split-second before something solid thunks against the door from the other side.

(Her forehead, he’d be willing to bet.)

“Do you want me to leave?”

The part of her that seems to jump at that suggestion is a bit of a blow to his ego, but it’s nothing compared to what the skittish panic that flares to life the moment the question leaves his lips does. He hears her sigh again - hears the metallic sounds of a hand landing on the doorknob - hears silence. And then -

“No.”

- so small and quiet, he almost misses it.

“Do you want me to come inside?”

“I don’t know.”

And she really doesn’t, he notes.

“I promise I won’t judge,” he offers. “You don’t even have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to. If - if something, y’know, uh, happened. You don’t have to talk at all, we can just - we can sit and watch TV and eat ice cream and I can run my mouth until it’s just like white noise.”

She’s quiet as she deliberates. “What kind of ice cream?”

“Cherry Garcia, obviously.”

A pulse of gratitude and affection and something else he doesn’t exactly have a name for warms his chest as the lock on her front door slides out of place. “I just - I need to warn you,” she says before she opens the door. “Don’t say a word.”

She opens the door before he has a chance to clarify, and the moment she does he understands - it’s clear that she’s been crying. And he well and truly hates himself for the first thought that pops into his stupid reptilian brain:

She is the most beautiful person that has ever existed.

Her cheeks are red - rubbed raw from her swiping fingers and probably tissues to blot away any running mascara that streaked down toward her jawline. There are no tears glistening in her eyes or clinging like dew drops to her eyelashes, but the whites of her eyes are still a little bloodshot, and the browns of her pupils are intense pools of chocolate that seem to pierce his very soul in the brief split-second she allows herself to meet his gaze. Even her lips look darker than usual - probably stains leftover from whatever lipstick she’d so carefully drawn on just to haphazardly wipe away.

It honestly takes him a minute to even register the fact that her hair is thrown up in a knotted, wild bun, and that her frame is essentially hidden beneath the baggy layers of a massively over-sized Cheap Trick concert t-shirt and the rattiest grey sweatpants he’s ever laid eyes on. All in all, he’s very obviously walked into the immediate aftermath of an Amy Santiago break-up.

And she is the most beautiful person that has ever existed.

“I said don’t say a word.” she repeats, this time through grit teeth. He panics for a split second, ready to dump the ice cream on the floor and fling himself out the window if he’d subconsciously spoken that totally stalker-esque monologue out loud, before his awareness catches up to him and he realizes he’s been staring. Motionless and staring, actually. Or, well, more like motionless and gaping and staring. A quick assessment of her emotions confirms, she’s not feeling shock - she’s embarrassed and self-conscious. She thinks he’s judging her.

Well that simply won’t do.

“I’m just waiting for you to go turn the TV on so I can get spoons,” he says as he gestures toward the kitchen, hoping his bravado sounds more natural than it feels.

Suspicion has joined the maelstrom of emotions storming through her chest, but it only seems to manifest in her slightly narrowed eyes; she backs away a pace, and then two, before finally turning away and trotting out into her living room. He releases the breath still caught in his chest in one quick huff, and shakes his head as if to clear the cotton suddenly stuffed there as he makes his way toward her silverware drawer.

“It’s the third drawer to the right of the dishwasher,” he hears her call as he pulls the drawer open.

“I know,” he says, letting an ounce of indigence color his voice. “You think I don’t know where your silverware is?”

“I don’t know!” she says, and not for the first time he’s so grateful that she’s his soulmate - otherwise he’d be left wondering if she was kidding beneath the miles-thick layer of outrage ringing with her words, instead of feeling that little bud of amusement in the center of everything else. “Teddy never figured out where it was and we dated for nearly a year, you’ve only been over here, like, ten times!”

He’s also thankful for the wall standing between them at this moment - the wall that covers his involuntary wince, accented by stabbing the spoons through both pliant ice cream surfaces at the same time. “Well,” he says as he gracefully lifts both ice cream cartons and eases the drawer closed with his hip at the same time, “that’s the difference between me and Ted-odore - I’m a detective. I remember details.”

Her expression is equal parts disgruntled, thankful, and annoyed when he makes his way into her living room. “Teddy’s also a detective,” she reminds him as she plucks her carton of ice cream from his hand.

“Ah, but only I am an amazing detective-slash-genius,” he reminds her. They sit at the same time - her carefully, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch over one shoulder and folding a leg under her in one movement, him flopping back, the force of his body connecting with the cushions just short of hard enough to jostle the narrow table behind the couch.

It’s the end of the conversation for quite a while - long enough that they get through an entire episode of The Office without interruption, long enough that half of his ice cream is gone and his fingers are well and truly numb. It’s just long enough that he knows she’s absorbed in what she’s watching - her eyes never deviate from the screen, and the inner turmoil seems to quiet down to some distant back-burner in her mind. Just long enough, he thinks, for him to do a little surreptitious investigating from right here on her couch, without her ever noticing.

He turns to his right, away from her, pretending to cast around on the table behind the couch for a coaster upon which to set his ice cream. He already knows there’s a stack of three on the coffee table eight inches from his knees - the fourth is on the other side of the coffee table, beneath Amy’s quarter-finished ice cream - but he also happens to know that she has a nice set of geode-looking coasters stacked neatly on this table, equal parts artistic and utilitarian, and (if he’s not mistaken) identical to the ones he’d spotted at Captain Holt’s house some eighteen months earlier.

He pretends to grapple for them - they’re two inches to the right of where his hand is currently grasping - all while studying the scene laid out on the dining room table just visible from this angle. There are still dishes there - dirty dishes, if he’s not mistaken - which is, of course, highly uncharacteristic for the woman to whom they belong. It’s clear the meal was in progress when...something happened. Something abrupt and unexpected, something shocking - something that clearly rocked her to her very core, drudging up feelings of isolation and loneliness and a few others he recognizes from the dark weeks that followed his father leaving all those years ago.

He’s practically bursting at the seams with desperation to know why.

The light piano theme song plays over the end credits just as Amy loudly and pointedly clears her throat, and he winces as his fingers close over the coaster he was seeking. “You’re not as sly as you think you are, Mr. Genius,” she mutters as he rights himself on the couch again.

He sighs as he leans forward to set his coaster and carton on her coffee table. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he reiterates, and he knows from her quiet calm resonating near his heart that she truly understands that he means it. “I just - y’know, I wanna, um. Make sure that you’re okay, and stuff.”

She doesn’t look at him. The next episode is already queuing, seconds away from starting automatically, but her eyes are now glazed as she chews the inside of her cheek. Movement by her hip catches his eye - her fingers drum restlessly along the side of the remote, the only outward sign of her visceral inner turmoil, now back to center stage.

“I wanna talk about it,” she says haltingly, thumb mashing down on the pause button. “I do, I - I need to talk about it. I just -”

- don’t want to, he finishes in his mind after she falls silent again. Even if he didn’t have a front-row seat to the weighing of emotions happening in her gut, he could easily follow through her facial expressions - even the nano-expressions, the ones that really don’t even fully register before they’re gone, replaced by the next. 

“It - it sucks, okay?” she finally says. “This whole situation just sucks.”

He remains silent.

“We were, like ten minutes into dinner and everything was going fine. I was telling him about that perp Charles and I took out behind the bakery earlier, and how Charles refused to leave the scene until he’d sampled literally everything the bakery sold, and when I looked up I realized he’d spilled wine all over himself while I was talking but he hadn’t even noticed it because - because -”

She draws in a ragged inhale; he can feel it dragging like knives across his heart.

“I’ve never heard of a connection manifesting that late in someone’s life,” she says after a moment of composition. “I mean - I know it’s possible, obviously, I’ve read articles about it and everything, but I’ve never known anyone who’s had that happen to them. It’s always young kids to teenagers, that’s when it’s most common for the connection to start - Teddy’s thirty-seven years old. He didn’t think he was the receptive one in his partnership. He didn’t think he had a partner. But he does, and he felt them for the first time half-way through my story about Charles shotgunning a croissant. And it wasn’t me.”

The silence is thick and swelling in his head, and the temptation to scream the truth is almost overwhelming for all of two seconds. He’s not certain he would have been able to keep his composure, if not for her stark feelings of inadequacy roiling with her heartache radiating through his chest.

“That doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you,” he starts, far more tentatively than he would like. She rolls her eyes. “Hey, I mean it. There’s nothing wrong with you, Amy.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” she mutters, “you’ve felt your soulmate since you were seven years old. All I’ve had for my entire life is radio silence. Every single one of my brothers is the receptive one in their partnerships. I’m the only one of all my siblings. My parents had already met and were dating as teenagers when their connection started. I am literally the only person in my immediate family who doesn’t feel a connection. It’s not that outlandish to assume I’m the defect, here.”

“Maybe you’re just not the receptive one,” he counters, determination growing with every ounce of inwardly-focused disdain he feels pouring through her very veins. “Maybe there’s someone out there right now who can feel everything you’re feeling, who’s hurting just as bad as you are because you’re hurting so bad right now. Maybe there’s someone who’s been looking for you for his entire life, who’s looking that much harder so he can prove to you that you’re not defective, you’re not a mistake, you’re not worthless.” She’s staring at him full-on now, brows furrowed, intently focused on his every word. “You’re one of the kindest, most thoughtful and amazing people I know, Ames. Your soulmate is out there and as soon as you find each other, I promise, this will all be worth the wait. Don’t be so mean to yourself because some chump missed out on the opportunity of a lifetime so he can go out hunting for a soulmate while covered in red wine stains. Okay?”

She seems to hesitate, before the corners of her mouth twitch against a smile. “Okay,” she says softly.

He’s not sure how and he’s not sure why, but he does know one thing: something in the air has shifted.

He isn’t able to put a name to it until three weeks later, when he finds himself back in that very same apartment on that very same couch, the very same ice cream in his hands, the very same episode queued up and ready to start on the television somewhere off to his right. He’s paying it very little attention, in all honesty - he’s far too enthralled by the gorgeous woman in the red dress on the other end of the couch, toeing off her heels beneath her coffee table and settling in in much the same position as before.

(Save for the silky black curls swept over one shoulder so as not to drip ice cream in them, of course.)

He’s watching her shift, watching the kinetic energy burn through her rolling ankles and curling toes and twitching nose and drumming fingers. She seems intently focused on her ice cream - the very same carton from which she’d eaten the last time he was here - but he knows there’s a level of awareness of his gaze on her.

Just as she knows that he knows.

It hits him here, in this moment: she knew.

“You knew,” he says. Her eyes flick up to his face and all at once, his suspicions are confirmed. “You knew!”

“Knew what?”

“The last time I was here, before I left, I felt something change. I couldn’t figure out what it was, but now I know - you knew I was your soulmate before I left that night, didn’t you?”

It’s the first time they’ve really talked about it since their confrontation in the evidence lock-up - since the electrifying kiss that followed it - and as her smile blossoms, her amusement peaks. “I had a feeling,” she corrects.

“What gave it away?”

“What, you mean how did I know? The kiss was a pretty good hint -”

“Yeah, but you weren’t really shocked after that. I mean, you were, but - not about it being me. What gave me away?”

“I knew three days ago when we were raiding the warehouse and I got ambushed by that guy and you came flying in before he could even pin me to the wall. But I had a feeling after you gave your little speech about how I’m basically the greatest human being on the planet and you mentioned my soulmate feeling emotions that I know I didn’t put into words.”

“Damn it,” he mutters, letting his shoulders fall back against the cushions behind him. She laughs, delighted, and the sound is like pure sunlight bubbling between his ribs. “After all these years, I can’t believe I just straight slipped up. Right to your face, too! I’d always assumed it would be Charles who screwed up.”

A wave of surprise washes over her, but she suppresses it a moment later. “We’ll talk more later,” she says with a smile. “Right now, I wanna try something else.”

She leans forward to set her carton on her coaster and a second later she pounces, pinning him back against the cushions, hovering over him. Her grin has gone Cheshire and her fingers are closing over his before pulling his own carton out of his hand; he releases a breathless laugh as she leans away, just far enough to reach the coffee table, before resuming her position over him. “This is new,” he says.

“It is,” she confirms. “Also new? You feeling unsure of something.”

“Hey,” he snaps, “I’m always unsure of things. You’ve never known because I’m good at hiding it.”

“Not anymore.”

She leans down before he can respond, until her lips are a breath away from his. He can feel his heart tripping in his chest and he knows she can feel it, too - breathless anticipation radiates and sparks like a livewire between them, igniting every last nerve ending, like a fuse lit seconds away from exploding. “Whoa,” he chokes, hands fumbling before landing on her hips.

“Intense,” she breathes back, apparently to enthralled by the build-up to dare take the plunge. “Did it always feel like this?”

“Never actually done this before,” he mutters.

She pulls back an inch - just far enough for him to see her roll her eyes in accompaniment with her wave of exasperation crashing through his chest. “I just mean - this, us, our - our connection. Was it always this intense?”

“No,” he shakes his head, acutely aware of the fact that his hands are still on her hips and he can feel the heat of her skin through the red material. “N-no, never. I mean - when you were feeling something intense, it was kind of strong? But now that it’s a two-way street, so to speak, it’s - everything is way more intense. Especially this.”

She hums thoughtfully, gaze fixated on a spot on the cushion just over his left shoulder, before she suddenly seems to remember herself and where she is. He grins up at her when she blinks herself back into focus - and the twist of affection in her chest is almost cruel for how blinding and savage it is.

“Wow,” she breathes, lifting up a little higher to press her fingertips to her sternum.

“Sorry,” he mumbles a bit sheepishly. “I just - I’m really into you.”

“I can feel that,” she says with a laugh. Her hand falls from her chest much closer to his face than before; he briefly closes his eyes at the feeling of her fingers carding through his hair, part curious, part reverent. “I’m really into you, too.”

He grins again before lightly pinching her hip, laughing when she thumps both heels of her hands against his chest in retaliation. “I can feel that,” he echoes before bending his knees, bringing her teetering forward, back to her original position of a breath away from his lips. This time he cranes his head up to catch her before she can draw back; like both times before, the meld of her lips against his brings everything else to a screeching halt. Her hands splay out gently on either side of his face as his slide up the dips of her waist to skim up her back, thumbs sweeping out over the defined ridge of her lowest ribs.

She pulls away after an eternity, after a split second, lips dark and shiny as she gasps for air; she closes her eyes when he reaches up to move her hair back over her shoulder, so that nothing impedes his view of her face. “You were right,” she mumbles breathlessly.

“Huh?”

“You were right,” she repeats, with a little more conviction than before. “This was worth the wait. You were worth the wait.”

It’s the last coherent thing either one of them says until morning.

#my b99 fics #brooklyn nine nine #jake x amy #peraltiago #jake peralta #amy santiago #soulmate au!!! #erica gives the basic gist of the set up in her ask lmao #ANYWAYS PLS ENJOY #startofamoment

[buddhasfanficdictatorship]

Fanfic Progress Update: Light at the End of the Tunnel and Going Forward (Part 2 of 2)

Part 1: Here

Sorry this took awhile get out, my lying ass said “a few days” last time, but a month is about the same amount of time... right? I’ve been busy trying to finish up a fic I wrote for a very helpful friend as a Christmas gift, which obviously isn’t late as crap now. Besides that, some unavoidable stuff came up (including having my phone containing writing notes totally crap out on me, internet issues, oh and almost becoming homeless because my landlord jacked up rent a bunch without notice, forcing me to try to sell my plasma and to scramble for money. That was fun. But that’s a whole other story).

I hope you’ll understand that real life troubles have to take priority. I know, it’s always excuses with me, sorry. I wish I could control my life and not have all this shit constantly come up too.

Okay, now that my customary pathetic excuses are out of the way let’s get down to business! First up? Fic progress updates! But PREPARE FOR AN ONSLAUGHT OF WORDS! (as if that’s anything new).

The Bonds That Never Break: The last piece of the “Birthday” chapters (which were originally supposed to be one but got split because all these issues) has had some progress (maybe 1/4 of the way) and won’t be a difficult undertaking finishing it up since I know what I want to do, but... Honestly I've hit a major roadblock with the fic beyond this point. My ideas for original stuff are coming up empty and simply rewriting the entire plot isn’t my plan (even now I think the ratio is too far skewed for canon content without enough additions of my own).

The problem as I said in my Author’s Notes of the most recent chapter is the format keeps me tied to the canon, which limits my options. I love the idea, but I can’t deny doing a faithful canon rewrite is a pain sometimes. And in the coming chapters my new ideas are pretty much nil beyond a few scattered chunks from the Konoha Crush arc to about halfway through Shippuden.

Side Note: I planned on skipping canon rewriting most of Shippuden. The fights with Akatsuki and such don’t really play into Naruto and Sasuke’s relationship and I’m not interested in doing that much extra legwork beyond the main focus of this fic. I only care about the dorks and their story and elements of the anime that deal with it. So beyond that, we’ll jump a bunch of that and go directly to the end, a new ending where they get together eventually, where everything will be new.

So me being stuck being the case, I MAY skip forward a ways to something more solidly planned and thought out, and come back later to fill in the gap. Maybe to the point after the ending where everything is my own creation so we can see the dorks repairing their relationship and just making out like they SHOULD have done from the start. We’ll see what happens. I’d be very interested in hearing reader’s opinions, maybe I’ll set up a poll to see what you you think.

I REALLY think I need to put this on hold for a while and watch the anime start to finish, to help inspire me and bring back my passion. I love these guys but over the last year and a half my interest has faded. I need to get back into the ship and reignite those feelings I first had when I started the show so I can channel that into better chapters.

The Horny Canine Boys of the Hidden Leaf Village: Having trouble with this one too. To put it in semi-simple terms, I know what I want in chapter A and chapter C, but connecting them together with chapter B is causing me issues. Haven’t started the next chapter yet (technically the conclusion to the most recent one, since I broke that up because I wasn’t finished and had gone so long without updates) but I do know what it will involve and have plenty of notes so it shouldn’t take TOO long. That being said, from there I’m not sure what to do. I might skip forward and do chapters later on in the story first since I have a clearer idea of what I want them to be. This fic is mostly porn without plot so it’s not like skipping around would matter that much, but it’s still pretty frustrating. Probably going to make a poll for this one too, to get reader’s opinions regarding to skip or not.

Dogs Keep it in the Family: Some progress on finishing up the update I cut short, mainly need to assemble all the parts and ideas together into a cohesive whole. So not too much work. The problem with this one is mainly issues of quality I have with it, content not meeting my expectations. I have plenty of notes and a few more chapters plotted out, it’s mainly just finding the occasions where I can get some good writing done. That aside there’s also a lot of questions beyond the first couple chapters of what I want to include that I’m not sure about. I need to think more about this one.

The Unorthodox Journey of a Pokemon Breeder Boy: The next chapter of the Charizard segment is roughly half way done. But I pushed this out way too soon mainly because I was so sick of it being constantly on my “To-do list” in an in-progress state during months and months of interruptions. Going forward though I’m not really sure what I want to do with it; I simultaneously have this grand vision, but an abnormal lack of concrete ideas for new chapters. I’ve had some little sparks of inspiration and prompts, but beyond that I’m just not feeling it flow into a greater idea.

Here’s my planned schedule for this round of updates. Thing’s could change, but I’ll make a notice if they do.

1. Untitled Inuyasha fic; Koga/Ginta/Hakkaku threesome. This is a gift for a friend I’ve been trying to finish for weeks now

2. The Bonds that Never Break. Last segment of the Birthday chapter

3. The Horny Canine Boys of the Hidden Leaf Village. Next half of the Dogs Will Play chapter. This one has the least recent update (and is by far my most read fic) so I might push it ahead.

4. Dogs Keep it in the Family. Last chunk of the Mother’s Stern Hand chapter

5. The Unorthodox Journey of a Pokemon Breeder Boy. Second half of the Charizard segment

Next are details of my plans going forward. It’s lengthy (it’s ME after all) but important so I’d recommend checking it out. Long story short: After updating each of my current fics, I’m temporarily switching over from the large projects above to one-shots for a time.

But I’ll still be writing and I’m not dropping any of those big fics! I just need a break from the intensive work they require.

On to other matters. If you’ve read my other insanely long updates (if you have you’re a trooper) you’ll know I haven’t been having a great time for a long while. If not, check Part 1 or older Progress Updates for more info. Long story short, I’m completely worn out from endless months and months of bullshit. Even though its FINALLY quieted down now, I still need a break.

You might say, “But you’ve been on hiatus for months!” That was because I could never get a night without fist fights or drunk parties or literal death threats being screamed all hours. That hiatus was because I couldn’t focus, because I was in a stressful situation and had no real alternative.

Now I’m saying I need some mental health time, a break from scrambling between fics that went without updates or had half finished chapters as compensation for that utter nonsense, trying to catch up and failing to get back to normal because of it. I went straight from that atmosphere into rapidly trying to get everything back up to speed, never taking a breather and celebrating my freedom. I need to take a few steps back and gather myself, actually breathe easy without fears of drunk assholes trying to break in to people’s apartments, before I jump back into things.

Because of all that crap, I had to make do with putting out lazy and poorly constructed work. It made me feel like a shitty writer and that I was letting readers down. I can’t express how awesome people who stuck by patiently waiting for updates, understanding I wasn’t in a great place, really are. But not doing my best made me feel like I wasn’t meeting expectations of people who had been so nice. Yes it’s just fanfiction, maybe I’m getting dramatic, but still.

I’m so sick of putting out half-assed or incomplete chapters and fics. Rushing from one to another, scrambling to make updates that aren’t complete or as polished as I would like, leaving this trail of disappointment behind me. I look at what I’ve produced lately and I’m just so deeply unhappy with the quality. Most of that was the horrible situation I was in, but now it’s my haste, like I’m trying to do 5 things at once to catch up now that things are okay and none end up great. I appreciate dearly readers supporting me and being understanding all this time. But when you KNOW you can do better and aren’t meeting your own expectations it’s very frustrating. I take my writing, even if it IS only fanfiction, seriously. I feel a commitment to making the best chapters for people who enjoy what I do.

These big projects are so exhausting, so much work tweaking them just right. All the effort and time I spend has just worn me out. It’s gotten to the point that I’m starting to resent working on them, it feels like an obligation. I rush through stuff trying to make everyone happy and in the end my work suffers. It’s tough to make good stuff when it feels like a chore. And that’s never a good mentality to have when writing. I’m not doing my best work when it’s not fun.

Add to that the fact that my notes are an ABSOLUTE CLUSTER FUCKING MESS. Bits and pieces of stories saved in Google Docs, on my phone, and written in spirals, scattered everywhere. There are things for both Canine Boys and Bonds that I didn’t write down when I was breezing through work that I have now forgotten in my haste to churn out dwindling chapters and struggle with all the bullshit that had overwhelmed my life. That’s a big problem.

For example. In Canine Boys I know what I want to do with chapters 5 and 7, but my notes on 6 are paltry and I have since forgotten what I wanted to do. Problematic, even if it is just porn.

And there are pieces to the planned ending of Bonds that are hazy and difficult to remember because of the time that has passed, mental stress, and lack of organization. I need to get things in order first thing.

No joke, when I look at all my future plans and mess of notes, sometimes I get micro-panic attacks. Because there’s just SO MUCH to do, SO MUCH I need to plan and write, and oh god what did I forget this time, ugh I can’t figure out how to move on and do the next chapter, I can’t remember what good thing I planned for this and I’m disappointing my readers!!! ect. It’s truly overhauling sometimes. And it’s not pleasant or an effective way of writing. I need to get this mess sorted out, lay back and have some brainstorming to fix all those plot and continuity issues.

As if that wasn’t enough, my phone had loads of good things saved on it, ideas for both Bonds and Canine Boys that were GREAT and necessary to moving the stories forward. Well a few days ago it totally crapped out and I can’t access it. Losing the notes saved on my phone has left me pretty bummed. It’s like a knife in the heart. Because I had SO. MANY. GOOD. IDEAS. ON. THERE. And the thought of them just gone makes me just want to give up because I worry I won’t ever come up with something to match and replace all that was lost.

So yeah, I need to take a step away from these big works. All that being said, I’m not on hiatus anymore. More like semi-hiatus. I’m taking a break from “serious” writing, from these huge projects (all 4 current fics would count) and switching over to some smaller one shots in the meantime. I need time to recoup and rest and actually celebrate my newfound peace and quiet without deadlines. I want to work for a while with worrying about timely updates or letting readers down with quality issues. I’m going to take a breather, regain my confidence, organize my disaster notes, and come back strong, RATHER than keep limping along as I have been.

SO, once I make one more update to each of those 4 fics, I’ll be putting them off to the side for a while and focusing on simpler one shots. Hopefully people will check those out too, it’s still me and my style, just smaller (and a friend joked that I don’t do small projects. A one shot for me is like 10-20k words).

After these updates, which in all honesty won’t be my greatest work, not that I’ve been excelling for a while, I am DONE doing shoddy unfinished work. No more.

Once these chapters are out I’ll be shifting to one shots for a temporary cool down so I can gather my thoughts and organize my ideas. This should mean when I come back to these the quality is better, my inspiration is restarted, and I can get back on track writing fluidly instead of struggling.

I have no idea how long this period of smaller works could last. I would estimate anywhere between 3-9 months, since I want a more long term period of separation. Too much focus and worrying has made dealing with them tedious, I just don’t want to have to worry about them for a bit.

As you can see from teh Future Ideas section of my Masterlist I have LOOOTS of ideas. A good number of WIPs were recently inspired by my friend Ren and his beautiful, dirty mind. No I am not working on all those works in the Future Ideas at the same time, this is just a list of ideas that have popped into my head over time. Some may eventually be dropped if I can’t work them properly, but I do have a good chunk of progress already done on a number of those, while others have a few paragraphs written, and some are pretty much a premise and a few sentences.

Do not expect all those to be finished soon. This is a VERY VERY long term look at my plans. Like, over the few years or more probably, knowing how slow I write and how annoyingly perfectionist I am. I will likely shift priorities around between all these as new ideas inspire me or old fics require attention, but from now on I plan on trying to focus the bulk of my attention on 2 or 3 projects at once. Sort of like an assembly plant; one fic in pre-production, one in the process of being built, and one getting the final touches. That way I can churn things out more efficiently. I think that's a much better way to balance all my fics than rushing to and fro manically.

DO NOT WORRY! Just because I have all these future plans doesn’t mean I’m abandoning any of my current fics; Bonds that Never Break, Canine Boys, Dogs Keep it in the Family, and Journey of a Pokemon Breeder Boy will still get attention and I have plenty of thoughts, notes, and plans for those going forward. This list of fic ideas is just a glimpse into my thought process and future plans, in addition to somewhere I can keep readers updated with my priorities (I’ll make updates here as well).

I know what you’re probably thinking. “Oh great, more fics you won’t update on time.” Or “Perfect, the one I like is being pushed aside by this new stuff.” Remember this semi-hiatus is only temporary. Most of the ideas I have in mind are one shots. And they aren’t as intensive as my current works, they’re a much needed break so I can refocus and collect ideas for the major projects. I’m not abandoning ANYTHING, NONE of my fics are getting dropped. I’m just taking a more long term view of things so I can stay in shape.

I’m deeply sorry if some people don’t want to deal with that and jump ship, I completely understand your frustration. I fully expect to lose some readers, much as that pains me. But most importantly I need to do what’s right for me.

There’s a saying, “The candle that that burns twice as bright burns half as long.” I’m at that point. I don’t want to burn bright with a few good chapters and end up burning myself out before really finishing anything.

#progress update #progress #update #wip #fanfiction #fanfic #hiatus

[pikapeppa]

Pikapeppa READS (for once): Multi-fandom fic recs!

I spend a hell of a lot more time writing than reading, but I finally sat down to read a bunch of stuff this week, and I thought I would finally make a fic rec post. I’m sharing recs for Horizon Zero Dawn, Dragon Age, and Mass Effect; most will be NSFW. Please see below the cut if you’re interested! 

Horizon: Zero Dawn

- Between Armor and Skin by @jadefyre . This is a wonderful 3-part Aloy/Nil PWP that I had the pleasure of watching the lovely jadefyre actually write (the magic of Google Docs!!! LOL!). I highly recommend this gem.

- Time Out by @silencenorth . Also a great piece of Aloy/Nil smut, set under a waterfall. And you guys know how I feel about Aloy and Nil and waterfalls. 

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- The Moth by @sacrificethemtothesquid . Now this one is an Aloy/Erend fic, and ya’ll know this is not my ship, but this fic is so well-written and heart-wrenchingly beautiful that I devoured it like dinner when I first came upon it. I’m admittedly like 10 chapters behind at this point, but I look forward to catching up REAL soon.

- Coffins and Carnations by @problematic-cinnamon-roll. Back to Aloy/Nil again, and this time an ADORABLE flower shop AU that had me giggling like a schoolgirl on the subway. Another one I need to catch up on soon!

Dragon Age

- Anachronism by Maleficar on AO3. A time-travel Solas/Fen’Harel/Lavellan fic that is INSANELY HOT but also with a perfect pinch of feels and some awesome/intriguing young!Solas headcanons. This is one of my favourite pieces of fanfic and of smut that I’ve ever read.

- The Benefits of Banging Some Bricks by Maleficar on AO3. The premise here is that Skyhold - yes, the castle of Skyhold - seduces the Inquisitor. It sounds like crack but it’s fucking magic, people. LITERALLY AND FIGURATIVELY.

- Pas de Deux by Maleficar on AO3. Okay, fine, I just really love this particular writer, but this here is a piece of Solas/Trevelyan smut that is just... so insanely hot. Hot, and beautifully written, and well-tailored to the fact that the Inquisitor involved is a human and not an elf, and such a gorgeous dark!Solas characterization, I just... please, read it. You won’t regret it. *sploosh*

- Message Sent by Aicosu on AO3. Modern AU Solas/Lavellan where their relationship develops entirely via text and eventually phone. It’s... how can I explain this: @hellarcanine and I spent this whole day reading and screaming about this fic from opposite sides of the earth. It’s funny, adorable, heartwarming and heartwrenching, and ends on a horrible cliffhanger because it’s unfinished. You’ve been warned.

- Sovereignty by gamerfic on AO3. Solas/Abelas/Lavellan threesome fic that actually has a very interesting plot, interesting feels, and really fucking hot smut, with an extremely intriguing twist ending that I would honestly love to see a follow-up for.

- Midsummer Dream by @dismalzelenka. Cute and funny Blackwall/Lavellan smutty oneshot with Lavellan being cheeky and Blackwall falling into her charms despite himself - my favourite kind of Blackwall catnip. Super enjoyable!

- Like a Lonely Lover’s Charm by acertainheight on AO3. Beautiful, torrid, vicious smutty femHawke/Isabella oneshot where Isabella has to save femHawke from a desire demon. It’s... god, it’s something else. The first and best piece of f/f smut I ever read.

Mass Effect

- Popping the Heat Sink by @makocartwheels. Honestly, guys, everything Mako writes is fucking gold, but I’m just going to talk about this set of smutty Shakarian oneshots. It’s Shepard and Garrus learning the secrets and pleasures of interspecies sex. It’s hot and touching and beautifully written, and honestly, it’s my favourite little series of Shakarian fic of all time.

- Rust by @orangeflavoryawp . A short, beautiful and heartbreaking Shepard/Mordin piece that had me bawling. Have your tissues ready if you brave this one.

- All Things Worth Keeping by @ahealthylionisanonillion. Super rarepair of Kolyat/female OC who is not Shepard. Honestly, this fic - I don’t even remember how I got here, but it’s SO interesting from a non-Shepard POV, and well-written with fascinating world-building and humour that is clever as fuck. It’s a WIP, and the writer is meticulous about editing and trying to improve it (although it’s PERFECT AS IS IMO), but honestly it’s so worth reading.

- In the Yellow Time of Pollen by @thunderheadfred. Sara Ryder/Kallo Jath fic that honestly makes my chest hurt when I read it. It’s so fucking beautifully written, and the smut is both gorgeous and so, so strange - salarian sex like whaaat?? But seriously, this is a fantastic piece of fic and headcanon and writing, and I get giddy every time it updates.

Hopefully some of you guys will find something new to read among these gems!

Love,

- Your friendly neighbourhood Pika xoxo

#fic rec #fic recs #dragon age #horizon zero dawn #mass effect #pikapeppa's two cents #SMUTTY LITERATURE