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whenimaunicorn · 4 years ago

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Playing House - Part 6

The madness continues as the Reader wakes up Sunday morning, ready to figure out how to find balance in the new facts of her love life!

Catch up: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 (you can also find the whole thing on ao3)

Words: 4974 and most of them explicit

Would it really be like Ivar said? Now that the thrall game is in full effect, will these boys really be giving it to you at all hours of the day? A montage of images flash through your mind: you’re sweeping the floor until Ubbe drags you to the couch. You’ve just gotten back up on shaky legs when Ivar appears, handcuffs dangling from his finger. Ubbe soothing your wrists later while slipping himself inside one more time. The chores keep getting done, barely, but your clothes are never fully on anymore.

Just thinking about it, the warmth between your legs makes you shift positions. How can you be this wet again already? In the past two days, you’ve gotten more action than you’d had in . . . well . . . longer than you want to say. Your pussy shouldn’t be throbbing with need like this. It’s not neglected at all. You should be overwhelmed, really, given everything that’s happened. Instead, here you are, like a sailor on shore leave, horny as fuck at nine in the morning just dreaming of which of these two Lothbroks is going to put their hands on you next.

You’ve always been the first one up in the morning, at least on weekends. Especially since you’ve got brunch with your family today. You slipped out from under Ivar’s arm when your alarm went off, not wanting to disturb him by hitting the snooze. Your morning routine starts with a cup of coffee on the couch while you finish waking up. You’ve got your knees curled up under a blanket, phone in hand, although you’re mostly just daydreaming. You’ve probably already sat here just a little bit too long. You’re trying to make yourself get up and get ready for the day when Ubbe lumbers into the room.

“Morning, beautiful.” Sporting an adorable bedhead and a sleepy grin when he sees you curled up against the arm of the couch, Ubbe makes himself right at home under the other end of your blanket. You’re about to move your legs and give him room, but he spoons himself around your hip and stops your retreat with a strong hand on your thigh. “Is that coffee?” He wraps his fingers around the mug in your hand.

“There’s more in the pot.”

“But this is right here.” He takes a long sip from your mug, with your fingers trapped underneath his. Icy blue eyes sparkle at you from behind the rim. He makes a satisfied sound when he releases it.

You huff and pull it away from him. Ivar is hard to talk back to; you feel more of an urge for it with Ubbe. “This one��s mine, get your own!”

Ubbe just smiles and scoots in closer. “Fine by me. I like a different kind of pick-me-up in the morning, anyway.” He drops his head and nuzzles into your neck, his close-cropped beard tickling pleasantly as he mouths over your skin.

Oh. His body scoops even closer around the back of yours, his hands running up and down your pajama-clad form. You set the coffee cup down.

This may have started out with a lazy Sunday vibe, but Ubbe’s stroking hands find their way quite quickly underneath your clothing. With one hand scooping around your breast and the other diving between your thighs, he his not wasting time this morning. When you part your legs his finger slides so, so easily through your swollen folds. You’re so wet it’s almost embarrassing. “You needed me, didn’t you,” he murmurs in your ear. “You’ve got a pussy that always wants to be filled.”

He plunges in, finding his way so fast and slick that he immediately switches to two fingers, pressing as deep as he can before pulling out more slowly, teasing at your g-spot while you writhe back against him.

There’s mischief in his eyes when you look up. He’s still in control of himself, while you are devolving into a panting mess already. He stares down at you while his fingers piston and you squirm underneath him.

“How much trouble would you be in if he came out right now.”

Your eyes roll over to the dim hallway. As far as you know, Ivar’s not awake yet.

Ubbe twists his fingers, hitting you deeper, more deliciously. “Hm?”

“I—I don’t know,” you gasp, closing your eyes and focusing on cumming before you have to find out.

“Think he’d mark you up again?” Something in Ubbe’s voice makes you look up; his gaze is heated, blazing with that icy fire only his pale eyes can get. “I like thinking about that. More welts in your perfect skin because of me.”

“You want to put some there yourself?” You can barely believe you said it, but you’re just dying to know how kinky Ubbe can really get.

His fingers slow. His other hand curls into your hair. “How much time before you have to go to that brunch?”

“Shit.”

His chuckle is deep and rich. “Is being late an option?”

Disappointment loosens the coil that’s been winding up at your center. “Not really.”

His heavenly fingers retreat. Your pussy is still as needy as ever. “Then you’d better get that sweet ass up. We keep going right now, I’m gonna make your legs stop working.” He gives your butt a lazy, dismissive slap. “But I’m coming for this thing as soon as you get back. I hope you don’t have any plans the rest of the day.”

* * *

You fumble the keys a little on your way back into the apartment. Ubbe’s more than likely to follow through on his promise, and you’ve got the distinct feeling of entering a predator’s lair now, rather than your own apartment. The only thing that might stop him would be if Ivar were also in there, but then he’d probably be the one taking you back to his room to do something even more intense. It’s enough to soak a girl’s panties before anyone’s even touched her.

Everything looks normal when you open the door. No one in sight. You laugh at yourself a little for the apprehension. What, did you think that Ubbe was waiting in the living room to pounce on you? You set your purse down and grab a glass of water from the kitchen.

“Is that you, Y/N?” Ubbe calls from his bedroom.

“Yeah, hey.”

“Hey,” he says back, matching your casual tone. “Bring me a beer when you get a chance?”

You grab two. The first room down the hallway is Ivar’s. A little thrill creeps up the back of your neck as you pass his open door, but he doesn’t seem to be inside. While you love the ways he’s been claiming you, it’s equally exciting to think that he won’t be stopping you from going to Ubbe this time. On a sudden impulse, you duck into your own room before making it all the way to the last door. From the look of the flickering lights reflecting through the Ubbe’s doorway, he’s playing a video game in there. You decide there’s no rush to join him, and maybe you want to be wearing something a little sexier when you do.

You’ve got this red bra with a matching thong. Satin, with lacy edgings. Not really something you’d want to wear all day, but perfect to slip into now, when there’s basically a 99.9% possibility that they’re going to be peeled off your body within a few minutes. You consider strutting into Ubbe’s room wearing nothing but that, see what kind of cartoon wolf face he makes, but ultimately decide that you’re not going to make this so easy on him. You’ll go in casual, in your regular t-shirt and shorts, and let him make the first move.

When you open your door, Ubbe’s already looming in his, one arm up against the doorframe like he was prepared to be waiting a long time for you. His eyes are wolfish indeed, even without any lingerie to look at. He reaches out one hand. “That mine?”

You’re still carrying two beers. You hand him one, and he brings it to his lips without moving from the doorway.

He looks you up and down. “I thought you were changing in there.”

You shift your weight. “I did.”

“Isn’t that what you were wearing when you left?”

You just nod.

His eyes flick down your body again. He steps forward, reaches his hand up to your shoulder. You stay still, watching his face as he hooks one finger in your collar and pulls the shirt to the side until he can see the bright red, lacy strap hiding underneath. He smiles. “Alright, Little Red.”

You cock an eyebrow. “What does that make you, the Big Bad Wolf?”

Ubbe’s smile is dark. “Oh, Ubbe. What a big dick you have.”

You suppress a giggle. Definitely can’t argue with that. You look back down the hallway. “Ivar’s not here?”

He shakes his head. “Shopping. Said he’d be gone for a while.”

“Oh.”

Ubbe angles his body a little further into the room. “Wanna come in?”

“What happens if I do?”

His smile is dark and full of promises. “I’ll show you what I can do when I actually have room to work.”

The assault you had been expecting earlier comes just about as soon as you set foot across his threshold. You get a brief glimpse of rumpled bed, soda cans stacked around a glowing monitor on a racing game’s menu screen, and clothes littering the floor before Ubbe grasps you by the back of the neck, slams the door shut behind you, and presses your back into it.

“What is it about you,” he murmurs between kisses. “Last night was one of the hottest things I’ve ever done.” His teeth scrape against the bottom of your jaw. “And yet here I am, still as fucking hot for you as if I hadn’t been laid in months.”

He’s tugging your shirt off already. Your heart is racing like crazy; you let him take the bottle out of your hands, lift your arms, and give into it. So much for making him work for anything.

A guttural sound comes out of his throat when he sees the way your tits are served up in red lace. He wraps his arms around you and lifts you up against the wall.

You squeeze your legs around him tight as he hitches you up high enough to balance that way for a while. He buries his face in your chest. Lips drag across skin and lace, sloppy and wild. He shifts the angle of his hips and something hard is digging right into the center of your needy pussy. It might just be his belt buckle but whatever it is feels fucking good. You buck your hips against it, clutching at the back of his neck, scraping your fingers through his close-cropped hair.

With another rich, low groan, Ubbe pulls you tight against him and rotates away from the wall, carrying you several steps to his bed before throwing you down. He’s definitely intent on showing off. His knees press between your legs as you recline back and envelop yourself in the scent of his sheets.

One arm flexing quickly behind his head snaps his t-shirt off, revealing the broad chest he works so hard on at the gym. A light dusting of hair adds interest to his chiseled pecs. The action has pulled a fringe of his perpetually messy, dirty blonde hair down toward his eyes as he takes a half a second just to gaze at you on your back beneath him in his bed. His smile is proud and hungry, and then he drops down to cover you.

Not that the car sex wasn’t hot. Or the wild makeout sesh up against the brick wall outside that party. But there’s really nothing better than being able to stretch out and entwine your limbs like this, to feel the weight of his body on top of yours as he embraces you in devouring need.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket with a text message notification. Your first thought is Ivar, and you wriggle under Ubbe to get it out before you’ve even fully made the decision to do so. You break your lips away from his face just far enough to check out the screen.

It’s a message from Lauren. I can’t believe you haven’t called me yet. Ubbe?! You owe me the tea!

Your lips quirk in a quick smile.

“Who’s that,” Ubbe asks.

“Just my friend Lauren.” Pushing the button to turn the screen off, you twist up to set the phone on the nightstand.

“From last night?”

“Yeah. She wants to know what happened after I went home with you.”

Ubbe smirks. “Not going to be able to explain that in a text message.”

“No.”

“Well,” he says, running one hand up your thigh, heading for the waistband of your shorts, “since you haven’t released any reviews on me yet, how about I give you a little bit more to talk about.” He slides down your body, taking your shorts down with him.

You take a deep breath as he strips your legs bare and settles in between them. His fingers curl around the straps of the red thong, his breath hot against your lower belly as he teases the top of your panty line.

“Can’t do this in a car,” he murmurs, and rubs his nose along the crease of your thigh, nudging your legs wider apart for him. His fingers dance along the satin, tracing over your mound and following the strip of fabric as it narrows down and down between your thighs. “You put this on just for me?”

“Uh-huh,” you moan as he loops a finger under the side strap and snaps it.

“Did you soak the first pair through just thinking about what I was going to do to you when you got home?”

You say yes, of course you do.

Ubbe’s fingertip sneaks under the elastic hem right at your center, dragging moisture up from your core and around your swollen clit. “Now where did I leave off this morning…?”

“Two fingers in,” you recall helpfully.

Ubbe obliges. You weren’t quite as wet as you thought, but the friction feels good, the slight forcing of his way erotic as you give yourself over to this beast for the fourth time in . . . fuck, less than 24 hours. How is it that you still don’t feel like you’ve had enough? He drags in and out slowly, then uses his other hand to pull the fabric of the panties as far to the side as they’ll go. His warm breath hits your exposed clit as he repositions his body, then his lips close over you and everything is hot and slick and entirely his.

Ubbe clearly loves the pussy. He licks you broad and firm and thoroughly, and when you look down his eyes are closed like he’s savoring his favorite meal. Two fingers are still inside you and he works them in perfect tandem with his tongue. His pace is unhurried, somehow exuding a confidence that’s tightening the coil inside you faster than if he had actually been trying to get you off quickly. He makes happy little sounds as he eats you, and pushes his fingers in deeper.

You clutch at his hair, your legs twitching and writhing oddly as you try and control the uncontrollable. His tongue settles into a steady rhythm, batting across your clit in time with the curling of his fingers from the inside.

“Ubbe,” you wail, voice tight with the coming storm.

“Already?” he laughs, but his fingers don’t miss a beat. “I love it, princess, don’t hold back. I’m gonna make you cum so many times that you can’t think straight anymore.”

Then he latches back onto your clit and sends you spiraling up to the heavens. You can actually feel your body clenching and pulsing around his fingers as you come wailing through clenched teeth. His rhythm slows to gentle rocking as your consciousness floats back down, but he never entirely stops. Dreamy, you chase aftershock after aftershock, fucking yourself softly over his hand, until you realize you’re actually revving up to come a second time.

This seems to be his plan. “You close enough to cum again now,” he lifts his head from your clit to ask softly, “or do I have time to get in there first?”

Fuck. The very idea of Ubbe’s big dick pressing in between your still-shuddering walls is almost enough to make you blow again right now, but you manage to breathe out a quick “give it to me” as you try to hold on for him.

He climbs up the bed to the nightstand, fishing for a condom. You scoot yourself up a little higher too, getting comfy against the pillows and slipping off the twisted thong with shaky limbs. He tears the wrapper with his teeth and smooths the rubber down over his bobbing erection.

Your phone starts to ring. Ivar’s face appears on the glowing screen, and you both just stare at it for a moment.

Ubbe reaches out.

“What are you doing?”

His eyes are sparkling as he scoops up your phone. “If Ivar needs something, you should answer him.” He drags his thumb across the green icon to accept the call.

You suppress an outraged gasp as the naked, condomed Ubbe kneels between your legs while reaching up to press the phone against your ear. “H-hey Ivar.” You hold it up with both hands and do your best to sound completely normal.

“I was thinking of picking up Thai food on my way home,” Ivar says without preamble. Ubbe wraps one big hand under each of your thighs, spreading you wider. “Do you want me to get something for you?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say, realizing too late that you’d probably have to talk less if you had said no.

Ubbe’s got one hand on his dick, and you watch almost in horror as he lines that thing up to slide into your soaked and throbbing pussy right the fuck now.

No way in hell you’re stopping him, though. Walking the line like this is turning you on as much as him.

“Whaaat do you want me to get you?” Ivar asks, dragging out the first syllable in unspoken query about your prolonged silence.

You desperately try and remember the name of any dish they might serve at a Thai restaurant as you feel Ubbe’s blunt head prodding against your entrance. “Pad—pad see… the one with the thin little noodles.”

“Pad Wun Sen,” Ivar corrects you, right as Ubbe presses on home.

It wouldn’t be so difficult to sound normal if Ubbe just weren’t so damned thick. The stretch of him all at once takes the breath out of you, so as you try to answer Ivar in the affirmative you end up sounding way too much like a porn actress with the high-pitched “yeah!” that squeals out of your lungs. You fake a cough to cover it, also an unconvincing sound as Ubbe grinds his hips tightly against yours, and try again. “Yeah, that’s the one.” He slides out slowly. The thick, dark, self-satisfied grin spreading across his face is making Ubbe Lothbrok look like evil incarnate above you as he shoves himself back in with a second merciless thrust. At least you kept your mouth closed for that one, only trying to speak once he’s sunken in to the hilt. “I never seem to remember that name.” The deep, aching stretch of him makes it so hard not to moan, but you think your voice sounds more normal that time.

“What are you doing right now, pet?” You wish you could see Ivar’s face, because he sounds like he’s laughing at you while trying to pretend that he’s not.

“Um, nothing. I just slipped a little.”

Ubbe slips himself out of you, chuckling silently.

“Slipped how?”

You try to close your legs before he can slam into you again, but Ubbe catches your knee and you can’t quite lock him out. “I’m, uh,” you grunt at the struggle, “just mopping the floor.”

“Ah. Yes. You must have found something absolutely filthy, I can hear how hard you’re working. Did you get a little bit too wet?”

You don’t fight Ubbe very hard, but it’s fun to make him pry your legs apart before he can sink himself in again. Besides, feeling the strength of his arms is turning you on, and you’ll take any excuse to get it a little rough. “Yeah, think so.” Ubbe’s cock proves unescapable, jamming back into you again before you can think of anything more clever to say back to Ivar. With that many puns, he has to know exactly what’s going on. And teasing you mercilessly. But if you drop the façade, does it count as Ivar “catching you?” You’d better play it safe and keep pretending, no matter how poor a job you’re doing of it.

“Meat?” Ivar says.

“What?” You feel like you’re really starting to lose the battle as Ubbe pulls your legs up around his hips and starts fucking you deep, with a steady, sensuous rhythm.

“What’s your choice of meat.”

“Oh, uh, chicken.” Each one of those breathy words was punctuated by a thrust that fills you achingly to the brim.

“Alright.” Is that rich, thick amusement you’re hearing in Ivar’s voice? You hold your breath and try to listen. “Anything else? Maybe something for Ubbe?”

You meet those icy blue eyes, helplessly torn between your need to get this conversation over with, and the submissive desire to make sure your man isn’t left without any dinner. What would a good little thrall do? “Hey Ubbe,” you say, trying to make it sound like you’re talking to someone across the room and not inches away from your face. “Want something from the Thai restaurant?”

Ubbe shakes his head, grinning before he bites his lip and thrusts into you deeper.

“Nope,” you chirp to Ivar. You think about the heavenly treatment your pussy got so recently and add: “He already ate.” You feel yourself clench around him as another wave of arousal hits you at the memory.

“Ah,” Ivar says. “Enjoy the rest of your cleaning, then. Make sure you do it nice and deep, for me. And I expect you to be finished by the time I return. I’m ordering now, and I’ll be home with hot food as soon as it’s ready.”

Ubbe’s stuffing you so good you want to screech through your teeth, but you manage to keep your voice sounding human enough to end the call. “Thanks!”

You turn off the phone and resist the urge to throw it across the room. You let yourself have one long, loud, lusty groan to blow off the tension, then you start slapping at Ubbe with both hands. “Bastard! What the fuck was that?”

His cock slides out of you in the struggle, but he catches your arms quickly enough, grinning down into your face. “Super fucking hot, is what it was.”

You just might happen to agree, but you still want to fight. You shove him away from you, getting up onto your knees for more leverage to slap at him some more.

Ubbe detects the playfulness in your aggression and meets it with a growl and a grappler’s grip on your upper arms. You wiggle and struggle and even pretend to bite him until he’s had enough. Suddenly he’s got you flipped around on your stomach, face pressing into the mattress as he climbs onto your back. “Biting me? You think you can get away with that?” His jaws close over the fleshy part of your shoulder.

It’s a love bite, really, not anything meant to hurt, but the savage edge to his voice really sold it and you squirm in excitement underneath him.

“Like that, do you? Dirty girl.” He keeps you held down with one hand in the center of your back and slides down to close his teeth over your flank. Much harder this time. “You’re too fucking wild.” He growls like a beast when you try to squirm away. “Oh no I’m not done with you.” His lips travel to the swell of your ass, where he bites down so hard that you squeal.

When he releases his jaws you almost get away from him. He has to swing most of his body back over yours to ride you back down to the mattress.

He nips at your ear in a primal signal to stay still. “You want it rough, I can give you rough.” You feel his erection against the back of your thigh, waiting, and you realize that was actually a consent question.

“Fuck, yeah,” you say eagerly. “If you think you can claim me, then claim me.”

He prods at you from behind; it’s a little hard to find his mark when you’re not making it easy for him. With a swipe of his knee he opens your legs wider, and then fuck, he pushes right in. It feels impossibly deep from this angle, like he’s about to come out through your bellybutton. You were joking about the claiming thing, it just seemed to fit the animalistic vibe, but it sure is a hot fucking thought as he slams into your helpless, immobilized hips.

You can’t do much besides arch your back and take it. Every thrust has him grinding against your g-spot from this angle; heat builds quickly behind it until you’re keening, wild sounds that fill the room.

The filthy words keep spilling out between Ubbe’s gritted teeth. “Take it – you fucking glorious – ah – so fucking good – take it just like that.” He takes a fistful of hair to pull your face up from the mattress. “I wanna see, how you –”

There’s probably more coming out of his mouth but you can’t hear it anymore as another orgasm rips through your body, the pressure on your g-spot hitting just right at the new angle that Ubbe forced into your back.

Once you’re conscious of anything besides the roaring pleasure inside your own body, Ubbe’s not capable of words anymore. He’s fucking into you hard and fast and with a long, guttural groan that has to mean he’s coming too. His pace sputters, then he buries himself to the hilt and just stays there, holding his breath for a bliss-filled moment. He exhales with everything he has left and then collapses on top of you.

You make a happy little sound. You don’t mind his weight. It’s cozy, and somehow flattering to feel so thoroughly and freely used for his comfort. He shifts just enough to wrap an arm around your shoulder, pressing his forehead to the back of your neck. He doesn’t move again until he’s caught his breath.

When he finally pulls his softening cock out of you, he sighs a little at his own sensitivity. He rolls back on his hip to strip the condom off and flings it across his room. “Wow,” he says, voice light and giddy. “That was—wow.” He settles back down beside you, making sure you’re facing him. “Um, was all that ok?”

You smile. “What do you mean?”

His eyebrows go up. “That got pretty wild by the end there. I hope I didn’t, like, hurt you.”

Stroking your fingers down the side of his face, you try not to look like you’re laughing at him. Boy really is a total newbie to kinks like yours. Although he certainly seems to share them. “I’m fine. Loved every minute of it. If it wasn’t working for me, really, I’d have stopped you.”

His brows furrow down, listening carefully.

“I’ll say ‘red light’ if I ever need you to stop what you’re doing.”

Ubbe nods.

“But I love it rough like that. That was hot as hell.” You rub your palm over the places where he bit you. The one on your ass is still sensitive.

“It was, wasn’t it.” Ubbe looks like a kid who’s discovered a new candy store has opened right on his street. “Fuck. I just like . . . you seemed like you were into it and I just went for it. It was just . . .” he closes his eyes, trailing off with an adorable crease between his brows as he remembers some tantalizing detail. “You like it like that all the time?”

You nod, shyly, but a nervous laugh slips out too. “I mean, I’d probably get sore after a while but, yeah. Fuckin’ throw me around.” Your eyes trail down to his chest, unable to be quite this honest under full eye contact. “Chase me, push me, pull me… I like to be forced to submit.”

An entirely pleased sound rumbles in his throat. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He pulls you in close, tucking your head under his chin. “You’re not like any of the girls I’ve known,” he sighs.

You kind of want to say maybe you’ve been dating the wrong girls. But then the uncomfortable topic of dating would be hanging between the two of you, and you don’t want to talk about that until things are more clear with Ivar. He’s the one you always saw yourself getting serious with. Ubbe’s just, well, fun. Although he’s been surprising you lately. Like right now. You know you can’t stay long, you have to be dressed and out of this bed before Ivar gets home as per his instructions, but for just a few more minutes, you snuggle deeper into Ubbe’s arms.

A/N: I know Ubbe’s been getting a lot of spotlight lately, but Ivar’s back with a vengeance next!!! Read On

Taglist is open: @walkxthexmoon @swagmonstertoes @hanhanxx @xxdearlybeloved@littledeadrottinghood @persephone-is-here-omg @rekdreams247 @what-the-heart-desires @inforapound @creepshowzombae @tomarisela @youbloodymadgenius @walkxthexmoon@funmadnessandbadassvikings @trashqueenbitch @justlovelifeblog @earl-aive @supernaturalvikingwhore @equalstrashflavoredtrash @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen @ceridwenofwales @grungyblonde @pokeasleepingsmaug @hvittysmutanon @honestsycrets @wuxiesalt @thorins-queen-of-erebor @writingfromasgard @tootie-fruity @lordsexmachine @ uncomfortable-writers @sadbutatleastsassy @sweatstreatz01 @ritual-unions-gotme @likealostkiss @thehangedmanandthehoneybee

#ubbe imagine #ubbe x reader #vikings smut #ubbe lothbrok #ivar x reader #playing house fic

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thecampbellfam · 4 years ago

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Alright, the infamous birth story is ready to be shared. A heads up that there are aspects of this story that are TMI (too much information) so read at your own risk. Birth can be messy. ;) It’s a long read so buckle up.

For the week leading up to D’s birth I experienced mild contractions and cramping. Baby was very low in my pelvis and my midwife said at my 38 week appointment that she anticipated me birthing prior to my 39 week appointment (spoiler alert: she was right!). On Sunday, March 21st I woke up to mild contractions. The contractions continued every 3-10 minutes from 6:30-9:30am. These abruptly stopped when the boys came in the bedroom and needed my help and attention while Nic had a shower. During the 3 hours of contractions I made the decision to cancel a lash extension appointment that I had later that day. I texted my housemate and friend, M, to see if she was free to help me power through the open jar orders that I had in case the labour picked up again.

I had a long lull between contractions so decided to capitalize on that time. M and I finished jar orders. I packed all the orders up and scheduled a Canada Post pick up for the next day. I baked myself some lactation cookies. And Nic and I cleaned the bathroom, did the dishes, washed laundry, put last minute items in the hospital bag, organized a few areas of the house, and kept the kids occupied. I had the odd contraction here or there but nothing consistent or overly painful.

By 4pm I was tired and decided to lay down. I looked up something called the Mile’s Circuit and decided to try out the recommended rest positions while I had a nap. The positions in the Mile’s Circuit are known to help reposition baby if they’re sitting off in your pelvis. This seemed to work because by 4:30pm I was having regular contractions again. Contractions were irregular in length and time between, but were coming. This continued ALL evening. The contractions started to get a bit more painful as the evening went on but were never rhythmic enough or painful enough to transfer to the hospital. I was in touch with my doula and midwife who confirmed the same information.

By 11:30pm I was exhausted, discouraged, and the contractions were beginning to get a bit more painful (though still irregular in length and time between). At midnight my doula, K, headed over. She was my saving grace. She encouraged me to labour in a few different positions, took me for a curb walk in the rain, and helped prop me up with pillows when I got tired in a way that would keep my pelvis open while I laid down. I asked her when I should head to the hospital and she said that though the contractions were strong, they were not quite rhythmic enough and I was still too coherent between them.

But at around 1:30am everything changed. I had 3-4 huge contractions laying down and then got up to use the washroom. There I entirely lost my mucus plug (up till that point I had had zero bloody show or fluid loss). I called out for K to tell her about the mucus plug, then stood up and immediately vomited excessively. I told K that we needed to leave now! Nic had been resting and quickly got up to help me to the car. Thankfully I’d had him load up the majority of our hospital items a few hours earlier *just in case* things went quickly.

By 1:54am we were on the road to the hospital with K trailing closely behind. We turned onto the main road and I had a big contraction that I couldn’t speak through while my midwife was trying to call me. When the contraction ended she said she’d meet me at the entrance of the ER. We passed a bridge and I reclined my seat as I had another massive contraction. With this one I started yelling in pain. My body was experiencing fetal ejection reflex and was trying to push baby out while I was simultaneously trying to fight to keep baby in. The feeling of fighting your own body’s urges is one I’ll never ever forget. After that contraction was an odd lull and for a moment I thought we’d make it to the hospital. However, the next contraction hit just as we were passing the pedestrian overpass along the Bypass. I yelled “Uh oh! Uh ohhh! <words I can’t repeat> Nic you need to pull over NOW!” He quickly pulled over, gestured for K to come to the car, and reached to help me. I was fully clothed and frantically needed help pulling my pants down. We got them down just enough as K came to my side. K saw that baby was crowning and with one big push she was out. K was there just in time to catch her. So at 2:05am baby girl was brought up to my chest and Nic and K quickly grabbed whatever they could from the backseat of the car to keep baby warm. A towel and Nic’s infamous highlighter yellow hoodie were the winners. K helped rub baby down to ensure she was warm and checked that she was breathing. From there we impulsively decided to continue on driving. We were in a place that would have taken an ambulance some time to get to plus it was 2am so there was nobody on the roads. I had something called Marginal Cord Insertion which can cause hemorrhaging with the birth of the placenta so I was keen to get to the hospital as soon as possible. Baby on my chest, cord still pulsing and placenta intact, and onward to the hospital we continued. It ended up being the calmest ride and I kept remarking at how amazing it was to have her out while Nic kept commenting on how insane and badass this all was. The relief of having baby girl out was incredible. I’ve been asked a lot if I have trauma from the car birth and I honestly don’t. It was such a relief to have baby out and that she and I were healthy.

We pulled up the hospital shortly after and were greeted by our midwife and a team of nurses ready with a wheelchair, warm towels and blankets. They helped me out of the car and then wheeled us up to the delivery floor. I was greeted by a lot of surprised and impressed nurses. Baby and I got checked over, the cord was cut, and I birthed the placenta. I was stitched up and then we spent a couple hours in the birthing room for monitoring. Afterwards we were transferred to a maternity room and spent a quiet morning and early afternoon snuggling baby girl, having cat naps, watching the sun come up, and even sneaking in a shower. Our short hospital stay was so calm and relaxing so I’m glad we weren’t discharged as early as I was initially hoping. Given that it was baby #3 for us the nursing staff really only came in to go over what’s required and we were largely left alone. Baby and I were deemed healthy and we were discharged at 2:30pm.

We took our time heading home to give my sister time to be there first. She photographed our oldest meeting his brother for the first time and offered to do the same when we brought baby girl home. The photos from both of these photoshoots are cherished and I’m beyond grateful for my sister making the time to capture them.

A few fun facts:

* I selfishly didn’t want to share my birthday with baby girl. Shared birthdays can be tricky and I wanted her birthdate to be her own. She was born 5 days after my birthday allowing us both our own days. I had told Nic that I wanted to be done having kids by 30 so her arriving 5 days past my 30th was pretty bang on.

* Midway through my pregnancy my midwife recommended that I pack an “if I birth in the car” kit for the car, given how quick my active labours were with my last two births. This recommendation put a bug in my ear that my baby could be born in the car.

* A week and a bit before baby girl was born I sobbed listened to a Birth Hour episode about a car birth. I often tear up listening to birth stories but this particular story struck me differently.

* Our doula knew things weren’t going great on the hospital drive because Nic kept slowing down and speeding up (which correlated with my contractions).

* Many have asked about how Nic’s car fared in the birth. This is wild. When Nic got home from work on Saturday he let the boys come out and play in the car for a few minutes with him. Our younger son accidentally left the passenger door open a crack. Not enough to drain the battery but enough for the passenger seat to get absolutely soaked in the overnight downpour. Nic saw that the seat was wet when he loaded up the car with hospital bags and put one of our (new) thick towels on the seat so that my butt wouldn’t get wet. When I was transferred to a wheelchair at the ER entrance, Nic lifted the towel and the seat was COMPLETELY DRY AND CLEAN!

* Baby girl was born at the perfect time. Nic was on his weekend, our housemates were free to watch the boys, K was available to attend the birth and my sister was free to photograph the boys meeting their sister.

* Registering baby’s birth was fun. I had to call up Vital Statistics who had to look on a map to figure out the postal code for the area that I birthed in, since she wasn’t born at a fixed address.

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theirmajesty2139 · 4 years ago

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So, it may sound very inconvenient, but I would like if you are still accepting those requests for imagines with the boys from Outlast? I love your texts and I literally reread them every time I see one, and I just had an idea of what domestic living with them would be like, cleaning the house and taking out the trash, I would like to ask for something like this. if it's not uncomfortable of course.. love your write ^^) ♡♡

Domestic life with the outlast boys 🏡💞

Chris: tries to help with cooking and cleaning but it’s best to keep him away from any delicate tasks because he’s clumsy. He likes to sit by the fire in the evening and cuddle while watching a movie, it’s his favourite part of the day. Works a security job in the evenings so comes home from work after you’ve gone to bed. 3am ‘I’ve missed you' kisses are a regular part of your routine. Fridays are your date days and you go somewhere new each week, fancy traditional dinners aren’t your thing.

Eddie: he’s very traditional. He works at his tailor shop and you stay home and cook. He makes dresses for you in his spare time and when you have spare time you bring him his lunch. It really breaks up his day to see you, he always gives you a big smile and a kiss. Loves coming home to the smell of fresh baking and clean sheets. Always brings you flowers and takes the day off on sundays so the two of you can spend the day together. The biggest gentleman and will always ask about your day.

Trager: dissapears for days at a time and his hours are stupid. You still don’t fully understand what his job is but it seems to pay well. The two of you live mostly off of takeout food and energy drinks. He drinks ten cups of tea a day and you make it exactly the way he likes. When he has time off he will do the housework for you and sing you dumb little songs. At the end of a long day you sit and listen as he complains about his shitty coworkers and binges bad horror movies.

Frank: doesn’t have a job and the two of you live in his camper van so things can sometimes get hectic. You stay up each night until the moon is high in the sky and then sleep till noon. He will braid your hair and make you daisy chains if you’re having a bad day. He’s a disaster in the kitchen so you’re in charge of cooking. Every morning starts with a bowl of strawberries and a horoscope reading. The whole house smells like weed and incense sticks.

Jeremy: you have staff for literally EVERYTHING and you don’t have to lift a finger. His job goes from 9-5 so he’s always home in time for dinner. Multiple times a year he will use his vacation days and take you on some wonderful, expensive holiday. Sleeps spread eagle in the centre of the bed so even in a queen size bed you’ll end up on the edge. Spends his time off in his pyjamas and slippers, he actually hates his suit. Will bring you gifts and take you to fancy restaurants on the weekends.

Miles: the house is alw a complete mess and he will vanish for hours in the middle of the night for what he calls 'stakeouts'. You cook for him before he leaves to go investigate something because he can forget to eat healthily. Shouts "love ya!" As he leaves and it’s so casual it always makes you smile. Doesn’t like regular dates and would prefer to chill on the sofa with a pizza. If you want to go out he’ll suggest one of his ‘adventures' while these adventures are never safe they are always a lot of fun.

Waylon: is your house husband. He works from home so he does the cooking and cleaning.when you come home from work you’ve always got dinner and a hot bath waiting for you. He’s gentle and soft spoken, he always wants to know about your day and will pack you lunch with little love notes. Wants nothing more than to cuddle up and take a nap with you after a long day. Wants to binge watch Netflix in bed with you and eat popcorn. He is the king of forehead kisses and will make you feel loved everyday.

#outlast #red barrels #outlast meme #outlast whistleblower #miles upshur #chris walker #waylon park #richard trager #rick trager #eddie gluskin #the groom #the cook #frank manera #jeremy blaire #headcannons

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yuzukult · 4 years ago

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try again, || jaehyun & reader

title: try again, pairing: jaehyun x reader genre: idol!au, angst-y (i guess) words: 2.1k prompt: you should know that I’m always on your side, please remember my answer is you. note: inspired by the song try again by d.ear & jaehyun... i tried with this one, but it got hard to finish because i forgot where i was going with it.... i guess you can call this a drabble???????? also i have not revised this my 5th time yet. lol i will probably edit this as time goes on

Every long-term relationship goes through the “humps.” There’s three separate occasions: the three year hump, five year hump, then lastly the seven year hump. Many people tackle these hurdles, some fortunate enough to win and survive, but some wistfully slip.

You and Jaehyun failed the three year hump.

The obstacle was inevitable and surviving these challenges with him as an idol, periodically on tour when part of these issues arise didn’t make it any easier. The three-year mark resulted in a mutually angry break-up, only lasting a few months before he came back to Seoul. Healed from the fall, you thought that you were strong enough to face him. It was a lie-- the moment that you saw his face, you fell in love all over again.

Getting back together was easy. The two of you even made a pact that this wouldn’t ever happen again, and preventing it would require more communication and effort. Jaehyun was your end-game, despite the struggles of dating a celebrity, and the feelings were reciprocated.

So when the fifth year was approaching, it was no surprise that you could even feel it in the air that something was different.

Coming home everyday wasn’t the same anymore. The house echoed with silence; his slippers by the door remained vacant incessantly, and his roar of laughter isn’t here to fill the rooms with warmth. Your phone doesn’t ring with a text from him asking if you had gotten home safely nowadays, and expectations for video calls have dropped to none.

Jaehyun doesn’t “come home” lately, or at least, your home, but when he does, it means arriving during the late hours of the night and leaving at the brink of dawn. The incandescent grin that stuck on his face that comes as a package with the dimples that indent his cheeks were absent from your life now. His scent hasn’t remained in the house for months, evidence to his missing presence.

Sleeping without him proved arduous. Your eyes begging for slumber but your mind wouldn’t rest with the negative thoughts that swarmed your head.

Then there was speculation amongst social media-- every possible platform, and your phone overflowed with text messages from those who were “close” to you were all of him with new arm candy, a new beau.

It’s two in the morning, and you’re fighting with your inner self on whether or not to call in sick to work tomorrow. Snatching the carton of milk in the fridge, you grab a mug settled in the cabinet before pouring yourself a drink. Placing it into the microwave and tapping a couple of the buttons on the screen, the humming of the appliance is the only sound that floods the room.

The doorknob of the front door rattles, and he comes in with newly dyed blue disheveled hair wearing his clothes from practice, dropping his duffle bag by the door and his keys thrown into the bowl on the entryway’s table. There was no greeting nor kiss as he immediately makes his way into the kitchen.

“She’s just a co-star. We’re filming a music video, and afterwards she said she was going to grab us all coffee, and I felt bad if she went alone. I mean, there’s ten of us.” His eyes hasn’t even looked directly at you, yet somehow he knew what was running through your head.

“I didn’t say anything.” You mutter, attention wavering to the beeping of the microwave.

“You didn’t have to.” He’s standing what feels like hundreds of meters away from you. The light in the room is dim, nearly as though it reads the tension in the atmosphere.

“She’s pretty,” You say before gripping onto the warm beverage before hissing at the impact of the hot ceramic against your fingertips.

“What are you insinuating?”

You’re silent for a moment. “Maybe it’s time we should talk about us.”

Jaehyun is the guy who doesn’t say much. He’s a level-headed person, soft spoken, and sensitive yet reserved, but capable of opening his heart. He’s the one you admire from afar with his breathtaking features, a radiant smile that can wipe an entire nation, with his popular group of friends, and friendly demeanor. Even when he’s trying his best not to shine in a sea of people, he’s under the spotlight. It’s impossible for Jung Jaehyun to be just a regular person.

But recently, his heart just doesn’t feel open to you. He didn’t seem to glisten in your gaze anymore.

“What’s wrong with us?” He precipitously makes his way behind you. You don’t recall hearing the creak of the hardwood floor underneath his feet; your heart skipping a beat when your back bumps into his chest abruptly.

“Talk to me.” You gulp. He’s so close-- and what it seems like have been forever since you’ve been even this intimate; the slightest touch from him sparks nostalgia. “What’s wrong with us?”

“You’re never here anymore.”

You can’t look at him, you just can’t. You shouldn’t, because just seeing his face might bring you to the brink of tears.

Your lives were so different. He was an idol with fans throwing themselves at his feet, and constantly inundated by a plethora of talent and beauty. His ambitions weren’t aligned to yours, and it’s a miracle that the relationship lasted this long. You had such an average life, working a 9-5 job, occasionally going out on weekends to meet up with friends, and spending the remaining free time by watching movies or shows. He was out in different countries, exploring continents you’ve never even been before, and meeting thousands of people almost weekly out on tour.

It didn’t help that the relationship was always a secret. There wasn’t initially any regret about it being hidden, but the insecurities eventually began to gnaw out your insides when swarms of beautiful women flirted so shamelessly with him in front of you when you’d previously gone out on discreet dates.

“I’m sorry, I’m trying to be here more. There’s a comeback soon, so the hours at work are endless.” His baritone voice vibrates in his chest against your frame, something all too familiar but hasn’t appeared in a while.

Attempting to be empathetic was easier said than done when you’re angry with someone. Turning your body around, your stare sticking to his upper torso, refraining from looking into his eyes. From your peripheral vision, he’s indisputably exhausted, dark circles residing below his eyes after removing the day’s make-up from photoshoots and filming and visibly slimmer. It isn’t a competition but you were tired too.

“If... this is taking too much of your time,” The words get caught in your throat. “Maybe we should... let this go.”

His breath hitches, taking a moment to absorb the words you’re saying albeit his heart feels like it’s shattering. “It’s not taking much of my time.”

“That’s the problem, you’re not using any of your time with this to begin with.” Practicing in front of your mirror countless times before, you thought you'd recited every possible outcome of the conversation and what you’d argue to every response he had. You were confident until standing in front of Jaehyun. It lessens your assurance on the break-up because everything about him weakens your knees.

Jaehyun pulls you in, wrapping his arms around your waist before dropping his head into the crook of your neck, pressing a warm, gentle kiss against your skin. He couldn’t face you either. “Don’t do this.”

“There’s so many women out there that are better,” You sigh, swallowing the tears. He’s too great of a guy but you’d come to terms that maybe he wasn’t for you. “Someone else who can treat you better. You can’t give me what I want.”

Grabbing your shoulders, he obligates you to look into his eyes as he knits his brows. “Those women aren’t you. Tell me what you want, I’ll do it.”

“Jaehyun, it doesn’t work like that.”

“I don’t get what you mean. We’re talking about this and I’m trying to make it work.”

“That’s the other problem, I don’t want you to make it work anymore. You have to want this, do things willingly and not because I forced you to. It’s different now. I don’t think you love me the same way I do.”

He shakes his head. “You’re wrong,” his eyes are gradually brimming with tears, and you can almost hear the sound of your heart breaking, “I’ve always loved you, I never stopped.”

Jaehyun never cries. He’s all laughs and smiles but never manifestly melancholic. He was great at hiding it but never with you. Overtime, it felt as though the only mood he had was irritation and fatigue, and only his friends and fans were given the opportunity to see the beautiful side of Jaehyun. Seeing him unsteady with your decision made it difficult to leave. Even when the relationship fell apart the first time, he didn’t even seem like he cared. He wanted to portray himself as perfect-- and he was successful at it.

His hand reaches up to push a strand of your hair away from your face and moves it behind your ear. Cupping your cheeks, he leans in, his soft, plump lips capturing yours. He fit into you like the missing piece of a puzzle, and you craved for his touch. Your mind wanted to fight him, push him off and tell him that this was over with because you couldn’t take it anymore. With him pressed up on you against the kitchen counter, he’s the cause of your foggy head and you forget what your mind tells you to do.

Letting go, saliva strings between the two of you, but neither of you are bothered by it. His eyes held despair when they linked with yours, tugging you into his embrace. “These people that step into my life aren’t here for the mutual benefits. They’re all here for my name as a celebrity, they care about who I am only when it has to do with them. They expect me to be perfect all the time, and it’s tiring.” He takes a moment to take a deep breath, nuzzling his nose into your neck, inhaling in your scent.

“When I come home to you, you don’t expect me to be perfect. And I know you still don’t, you just wish I tried. You were never persistent about me being a certain way, and I took it for granted. I just thought you’d always be by my side.”

“You know that I’m always here for you.”

“And I took advantage of that,” He responds, and there’s a sudden wetness on your neck. “That’s my flaw and it’s my fault. I want to be better for you, please let me try again.”

The emotions from the past few months start flooding back, and anger fills your bloodstream, reality hitting you in the face. “What’s going to be different from before? It’ll all still be the same.”

“It won’t.” His voice is stern, and steady, removing you from his grasp. “Come to our showings, come to our concerts, our recordings. Let’s not hide this anymore.”

You choke on your spit. “What?”

Jaehyun’s expression doesn’t change; he’s serious about his idea. “I’m sorry it took me five years, but it’s long overdue. I don’t think I can lose you, you’re my rock. I need you here. Please, think about it.”

“What are you going to be doing on this lovely Friday night?” A co-worker of yours asks, reaching up to your desk an hour before you’d be released from your duties for the weekend.

“Honestly, not sure yet.”

She raises a brow, crossing her arms against her chest as she leans on the wall of the cubicle. “Hot boyfriend hasn’t had anything planned? If not, you should definitely come by to this new club that opened--”

“Sorry, she has plans.” Startled, the both of you turn your heads to the direction of the voice. Jaehyun’s standing in the walkway between the aisles of desks and cubicles that line up throughout the office, and you’re surprised he even finds yours. “Also, I’m not her boyfriend anymore. Didn’t she tell you, I’m her fiance.” He smiles cheekily, giving your coworker a glimpse of his dimples and raising the bouquet of flowers in his hand.

His hair is slicked back with gel, the blue dye washed out and a dirty blonde comes out from underneath. He has on a white button-up, a couple buttons undone, sleeves rolled up and shirt tucked in his black slacks. Jaehyun walks over to you, handing you the bouquet before bowing at your coworker. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sound rude. It’s our anniversary today.”

“Anniversary?” She glances at you questioningly.

“Yes. Happy 7th Year Anniversary, love.”

#jaehyun #nct #nct127 #nct fics #nct fictions #nct127 fictions #nct 127 fictions #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x oc #gyukultfics #ugh i'm embarrassed i wrote this #lol

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beck-a-leck · 3 years ago

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Fanfic Writer 20 Questions

Tagged by @thychesters Thanks Kate!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

56 on my main page, plus 5 others that are secret (aka Anonymous and don't show up in the count)

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

772,412

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

~10, I have a lot of sub-fandoms as part of a larger fandom. Including but not limited to: Star Wars, Story of Seasons/Harvest Moon, Rune Factory, MCU, and many moons ago Voltron, Transformers, and Harry Potter.

4. What are your top 5 fics by Kudos?

[Redacted Anonymous fic] at 1218

Aggressive Negotiations at 312

Wells of Silence at 287

[Redacted Anonymous fic] at 280

Weekend Guests at 209

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! Or at the very least, I try to respond to as many comments as I can. I love being able to strike up conversation with my readers, and wallow in angst with them for a while. At the very least, I like letting them know I appreciate their feedback.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hmmm... that's probably the fic where I gave Anakin Skywalker an almost happy ending; twins, husband, you know the drill. And then I violently took pretty much all of that away. Killed Obi-Wan, killed the twins, left her with a heaping pile of survivor's guilt. That's probably my angiestiest fic.

But also, I write rather a lot of angst, so...

There's also the one where I gave a child 23 older sisters, and then had them slowly and painfully die off, leaving her alone as the sole survivor. (Star Wars)

And there's the one where I detailed how an 8 year old accidentally killed his brother, thus screwing up everything so badly, the whole timeline had to be erased. (Loki)

And, well, Wells of Silence IS a canon compliant AU. And we all know how Revenge of the Sith ends.

Writing angst is fun okay!

7. Do you write crossovers?

Not really, no. Usually only when I'm messing around and being goofy, or if I'm combining a lot of sub-fandoms from a larger fandom group. But I don't really count those as true crossovers.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nothing specific comes to mind. I'm pretty sure years ago (and I mean like well over a decade at this point) I got trolled/hate on a fic by someone who was out to attack me specifically. I remember deleting the fic, and beginning to distance myself from the fandom. but obviously it didn't stop me from writing so... jokes on them. 😂

Otherwise, more recently I can only think of instances where people have used my fic comments as an excuse to vent about canon things they hate thinking they'll find a sympathetic ear, or got 5+ chapters into a long fic before saying 'it feels unrealistic that this character would do these things' to which I'm pretty sure I just shrug and don't respond.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't really write fanfic smut, no. It's not really my thing, and I'm happy cutting things off at an M/PG-13 rating for sexy times.

That being said, I have written non-fanfic smut before. No I'll never share it. It is well and truly laughably terrible.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

To my knowledge, no I haven't.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Many, many, many years ago @jessi-08 and I co-wrote and absolute crack fic for Jak and Daxter. It was deliriously fun times. But in a more ""serious"" capacity, no I have not.

13. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Nobody? I guess?? I'm not much of a shipper, really. I enjoy reading and writing ship-content, but I've never really felt devoted to any single ship in any fandom. I'm a multi-shipper? Omni-shipper? Basically, if the fandom can bring its A-game to a ship, I'll probably quite enjoy it.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I mean, there are a couple dozen unfinished WIPs in my writing folder that I keep around with the intention of maybe finishing them, but deep down I never will. But also, none of those are posted.

Thinking of where I am and how my fandom interests have shifted, I'm probably never gonna finish Weekend Guests. And I stubbornly refuse to admit that Dust and Ashes is dead, but also, I haven't touched it in years, and kinda forgot what I wanted to include in the story. 😬

15. What are your writing strengths?

Oh gosh... (what is this question? I can't say nice things about myself)

I guess I would say my scene setting. I love spelling out descriptions and providing the sensory experience when I can in the scenery. Otherwise, probably my ability to sink my angst claws into people and hurt their feelings with words about fictional characters while I torture them worse than canon does (usually)

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Sticking to a goddamn regular posting schedule. I try not to get too wrapped up in writing regularly, so as to not punish myself for doing (or not doing) something that's supposed to be fun and relaxing for me. but damn I look at those WIPs that haven't been updated in months and I can't help but feel guilty.

Also, tied in with the above, starting too many projects before finishing up something else.

Also action scenes. and romance.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in another language?

It can work, I think, if it's done well. But usually, it's not done well, and it just feels clunky or tossed in for "spice." But like... pet names/nicknames in a native tongue, I am so weak for those! And it can also be a fun way to drop hints/foreshadowing, but as a bonus for the people who speak the language.

Idk, I'm not fluent enough in any language to feel like I have any definitive voice in the matter. I typically don't add other language dialogue because I don't trust google translate.

And if I'm writing for Star Wars, and it's an alien language anyways, I'm not digging that deep into the lore to construct a fictional language. That shit gets Universally Translated babey!

18. What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Jak and Daxter my beloved! I'll never let you go! Every five years or so, I'll spit out a new fic for you 💜

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Oh no! I can't pick favorites! Don't do this to me!

Wells of Silence still sits up in my top 5, for a number of reasons.

Another of my tops is actually one of my Anonymously posted fics, so I will not mention name or fandom, but it is very beloved.

And they've been on the forefront of my mind, so I've got a soft spot for Earth and Rebirth and Our Dear Empress

20. Who do you tag?

Hmmm, let's see. @durotoswrites, @jake-marshall, @lookforaspoopynewangle (I know kate tagged you, but consider yourself double tagged), @jessi-08, and... I have all of a sudden gone completely blank on which of my mutuals writes fic 😂😬 (i only slept for 3 hours last night. leave me alone. my brain is swiss cheese.)

As always, if you want to play along, you are more than welcome to say I tagged you!

#tag games #becky writes things #writing #fanfiction #yes. I see the irony in the fact that my most popular fic and one of my faves is a Secret Fic #No I will not share it

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brokenbuttonsmusic · 4 years ago

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Laura Cantrell: Nashville-born, New York-based, Acclaimed Country Singer-Songwriter & DJ (& Kitty Wells Fanatic)

This post is a near- transcript of the Broken Buttons: Buried Treasure Music podcast (episode 2, side B). Here you’ll find the narration from the segment featuring the pioneering rock band Fanny, along with links, videos, photos and references for the episode.

Listen to the full episode on Spotify, Anchor or Mixcloud.

Music blog Stereogum used to have a running feature called “Quit Your Day Job” where they interviewed indie musicians about their current or former jobs. There was one with Marty and Drew from the band Blitzen Trapper. The two discussed being torn about walking away from teaching as their third album, Wild Mountain Nation, was starting to blow up. There was another where the lead singer of War on Drugs detailed some of the disgusting things he had to clean up while working as an apartment property manager. Mostly dead rats and clogged toilet stuff, but he did walk into an apartment that had been converted into a porno set. I remembered this discontinued “musician day job” feature while reading up on my next featured artist and it got me thinking.

How many professional musicians do you think have a full time day job? How many juggle multiple side gigs and still manage to tour and put out records regularly? How many have really successful careers all while trying to make it as a musician?

I don’t actually know. I did some research and there aren’t any reliable stats that I could find. There is a lot of anecdotal discussion on the topic. The consensus seems to be that most musicians are not getting by with music as their only, or even their primary source of income. I don’t think anyone is surprised by that.

One Reddit user said less than 5% of musicians derive all or most of their income from music. He didn’t offer a source or anything, but he seemed very authoritative in his post. And then after a few more Google searches I lost interest and listened to more Laura Cantrell.

Laura Cantrell’s story is what got me pondering how indie musicians go about juggling making art with the necessity of, you know, making a living to survive. In 2003, after two critically acclaimed albums, including a tour opening for Elvis Costello all across the United States and Europe, Cantrell was at a similar crossroads. Laura had risen to the position of Vice President of Equity Research at Bank of America in New York. Yes, you heard me right. Laura Cantrell was working as a corporate executive and touring with Elvis Costello at the same time. She actively worked on the road during the day and then performed for thousands of people each night.

Before we get further into what led up to this point and what came after, let’s hear a song from Laura Cantrell’s debut album, Not the Tremblin’ Kind. Here’s the title track.

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That was Not the Tremblin’ Kind from Laura Cantrell’s first album back in the year 2000.

Laura grew up in Nashville. She played a little bit of piano and sang in the church choir, but did not get into performing music and playing out until her college years. As a teenager she worked at the Country Music Hall of Fame as a tour guide. This job, in addition to the influence of the diverse musical tastes of her parents, sparked an interest in traditional music, particularly classic country. She also became somewhat of an aficionado in this area.

This love and knowledge of the early days of country music would help differentiate Laura as she honed her sound and selected her songs while developing as a performer down the road. Before that, however, it would make her an excellent college radio DJ and later an even more excellent DJ at WFMU, one of the best and longest running free-form radio stations in the country. Out of the New Jersey/New York area, WFMU is awesome to this day, with a wide array of programming where DJs still get to play whatever they want.

Laura is my favorite kind of DJ, and the kind that has been dwindling in numbers since the rise of music downloads, which then gave way to streaming and endless algorithms. First off, she’s knows her stuff. She carefully curates each shows, and thoughtfully sequences each set within every episode. She packs in history, context and story to create something that transcends your typical weekend-afternoon-background-radio-soundtrack. I know this show is about under appreciated bands and artists, but Laura Cantrell’s contributions to radio deserve to be heard by more people. You can find her past WFMU shows, called The Radio Thrift Shop, archived on the WFMU website. You can hear her present day on her “States of Country” radio show on the Gimmie Country radio app, or on her SiriusXM George Harrison themed show “Dark House Radio,” on The Beatles station.

This concludes the part of the show where I babble my enthusiastic endorsement of Laura Cantrell’s past and present radio career.

Laura began playing music with others in college at Columbia University. Her jam pals included Andrew Webster, future member of Tsunami Bomb and Mac McCaughan, who would go on to form Superchunk and Portastatic + found Merge Records. The friends would call their band Bricks. A lo-fi, mostly apartment recording projects that played sporadic gigs over the years.

Here’s the Brick’s song, The Girl with the Carrot Skin.

Living in New York, Laura began playing guitar and writing her own songs. She also plucked some choice classic country finds and incorporated them into her own performance catalog. One day she met a guy named John who asked her to sing on a song that would appear on his band’s next major label release for Elektra.

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That’s The Guitar from They Might Be Giant’s 1992 album, Apollo 18. John Flansburgh asked Laura to sing on that recording. It was the first time Laura recorded in a professional studio. John Flansburgh became a fan of Laura’s music and released her first recorded material as part of his Hello CD of the Month Club, an EP called The Hello Recordings in 1996.

Let’s hear another Laura Cantrell song. This time one that she wrote with Amy Allison. From Laura Cantrell’s 2014 album, No Way There From Here, this is All the Girls are Complicated.

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That was Laura Cantrell with All the Girls Are Complicated from her last full length release, No Way There From Here. Actually, that was her last full album of new material, but Laura did release an album a few years back of her BBC recordings on John Peel’s radio show. That album is called At the BBC: On Air Performances and Recordings 2000-2005.

I mentioned earlier that Peel was a big fan. Again, here’s John Peel’s full quote about Laura’s first album, Not the Tremblin’ Kind: "[It is] my favourite record of the last ten years and possibly my life.” Having the endorsement of the legendary English disc jockey was enough to give Cantrell wider exposer throughout the UK. She developed a loyal fanbase through regular appearances on Peel’s show, as well as US and European tours, including the opening slot for Elvis Costello. Which brings us back to Laura’s fork in the road. Before her third album, Laura decided to walk away from the corporate gig. She was excited to focus on music full time, but a little worried about walking away from the security of a successful career she liked and position she was good at.

From a spotlight CNN Business did on Cantrell in 2004:

“For several months until she finally quit, Cantrell balanced her day job with a growing schedule of rehearsals, gigs, recordings and publicity. On the day she appeared on the Conan O'Brien show she was at her desk until lunchtime.”

“And while life as a professional musician is a dream come true, Cantrell still looks back with fondness on more than a decade on Wall Street.”

“‘I came into Wall Street with a very typical kind of stereotype that it was all going to be people just obsessed with money. What I found was that there were just loads of interesting people who were a lot like myself, just doing it as a job and who had lives that were full of other things.’

‘So I miss some of the contact with people I met. Ironically it was a very supportive environment for me as an artist.’”

Laura’s first two albums were released on the the indie label Diesel Only, which was founded by her husband, Jeremey Tepper. Her third album was released by Matador Records, also an indie label, but with an impressive roster that included Liz Phair, Modest Mouse, Pavement and Sleater-Kinney. Released in 2005, Humming By the Flowered Vine continues Cantrell’s classic country sound, but with some evolved production and arrangements. Laura’s mastery as a song selector gets more and more impressive. This album includes a cover of a rare, unreleased Lucinda Williams song form 1975 called, “Letters.”

In fact, Lucinda Williams herself was thoroughly impressed with Laura’s cover of “Letters.” She attributes the cover to bolstering her confidence to go back through her earlier material and look for her own buried treasures.

From Blurt Magazine:

“The inspiration for her journey through the past struck when she heard Laura Cantrell’s version of her song ‘Letters,’ which Williams wrote around 1975 and recorded on a demo but never officially released. Explains Williams, ‘She got a copy from a mutual friend and did a beautiful, really sweet version of it that made me think wow, she brought this early song back to life, maybe I should go back and review some of my old stuff. I’ve got all these tapes of old little songs, but I never thought they were good enough to do anything with.’”

You know you’re an ace at finding under appreciated gems when you surprise Lucinda Williams by helping her discover one of her own songs. Let’s hear Laura Cantrell’s version of Letters.

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That was Laura Cantrell with Letters from her 2005 release Humming by the Flowered Vine.

In 2008, Laura returned with an EP called, Trains and Boats and Planes with 9 songs about… trains, and boats and planes. It’s very good and it includes a fun cover of New Order’s Love Vigilantes.

Throughout this time, Laura continued her radio show. She also started a family and became co-owner and co-operator of Diesel Only Records.

In this clip from an interview with Face Culture, you can really hear Laura’s passion for country music and its roots. She talks about the importance of country’s influence on rock n’ roll, and how each artist is inspired by something great that came before.

And Laura continuously pays tribute to the greats that came before through her radio show and on her own records. In 2011, Laura released a tribute to Kitty Wells called “Kitty Wells Dresses: Songs of the Queen of Country Music.” The collection includes nine Kitty Wells covers and one original, the title track, Kitty Wells Dresses.

From the Washington Post:

Here’s Laura talking about the inspiration for the album.

“Kitty wore very typical stage clothes for women who performed at barn dances and in early country music shows,” says Cantrell, a Nashville-born, New York-based country singer and host of an old-time music show on the legendary radio station WFMU.

“They were these frilly gingham dresses, non-threatening and cutesy. It became this uniform that all the women of the era wore, and I always thought it was a great metaphor for how you can underestimate the strength of the person or the value of the artist underneath.”

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That was the song Kitty Wells Dresses from Laura Cantrell’s tribute album of the same name, released in 2011. Wells was the oldest living member of the Country Music Hall of Fame upon its release. She was also the first woman inducted into the hall. Cantrell met and talked to Kitty about her album. She said that Kitty asked which songs were selected and as Laura began calling them out, Kitty would sing each one.

I’ve mentioned all of Laura’s past and present DJ efforts, all of which I’ll link to on my website, brokenbuttons.com. Laura also continues to release music. She had planned a host of special activities for the 20th anniversary of Not the Tremblin’ Kind, which had to be put on hold due to all things 2020.

You can contribute to Laura’s IndigGoGo campaign to help fund her new digital singles collection that she’s already started releasing. The plan is to release six singles with an A and a B side, all working with different musicians and producers. I’d recommend the $50 Kitty Wells Dresses Pack, which gets you access to the digital singles as their released, a signed CD copy of both the singles collection and the Kitty Wells Dresses album, as well as a copy of Laura's essay on Kitty and Patsy Cline from the book "Rock and Roll Cage Match: Music's Greatest Rivalries"

Laura Cantrell is the rare performer whose work is deeply rooted in its original source material while still feeling fresh and exciting. Laura’s radio shows can be described the same way. A buried treasure unearthing buried treasure and taking the old and classic and making it new and lasting and so much sweeter. Laura Cantrell.

References and other stuff to check out:

Laura’s Indiegogo campaign for her digital singles series

The Radio Thrift Shop - Laura’s prior radio show. You can stream past episodes and check out her playlists

Gimmie Country, where Laura hosts her current show States of Country. New episodes air 3:00 Monday EST. Laura chats during the show with listeners in the app.

Darkhorse Radio on Sirius XM. Laura’s other show dedicated to George Harrison. New episodes air Thursday at 3:00.

John Peel wiki entry about Laura

TMBG wiki entry about Laura

A Wall Street journal feature on Laura

An NPR feature on Laura

A CNN Business Week feature on Laura

Stereogum archive of the Quit Your Day Job feature

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jandjsalmon · 4 years ago

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FICS I’VE READ THIS WEEK (15)

Hello everybody!! I hope everyone is having a wonderful week! Mine was a bit of a monster - but I’m super excited to be moving into the long weekend full of sunshine and warmth and fun on the boat with my fam. (After I make them all watch the new season of The Umbrella Academy of course lol).

I spent this week searching for @blueandgoldoffice fics for the most part... but I did manage to read upwards of 400,000 words of fic for myself - so that’s nothing to sneeze at. Today I’m feeling lovely - but for the last few days I’ve had a severe headache. Sometimes all you want to do when you have a headache is curl up in the tub with some wonderful fic - so I did. ;) Where is your favourite place to read fic?

Also - is it weird to reread your own work? I did - but I didn’t add it to this list nor to my big spreadsheet. I’m hoping that it helps jumpstart the writer’s block. Here’s hoping.

Off topic (not really) - this week I read a delicious Percy/Pansy fic (a pairing I’d never read before in all my years of Harry Potterdom) - and that was fun. I’ve read and loved Pansy/Neville and Pansy/Ron before so this was a departure but it was the most well written “Secretary” naughty fic I’ve ever read and encourage any of you who are interested in that lifestyle (or that film) to give it a read. :)

ANYWAY - let’s get this list moving along. If you know one of these authors has a different url for their tumblr - please let me know and I’ll edit the post.

Love you all - have a great long weekend (or regular weekend if you don’t have a civic holiday on Monday). ❤️

This is my list for the week of July 24th to July 30th

Week 1 (119 chapters) Week 2 (158 chapters) Week 3 (81 chapters) Week 4 (98 chapters) Week 5 (117 chapters) Week 6 (99 chapters) Week 7 (88 chapters) Week 8 (149 chapters) Week 9 (194 chapters) Week 10 (220 chapters) Week 11 (157 chapters) Week 12 (97 chapters) Week 13 (89 chapters) Week 14 (44 chapters)

Week 15 (78 chapters)

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RIVERDALE (Bughead) - 11

A love tryst by @bugheadie (1/1)

Five Times Veronica Met Betty's Boyfriend (And One Time She Didn't) by @dmux86 (chapter 3)

it's the little things by @fallout-mars (1/1)

Our Epic Adventure by @crowns-and-milkshakes (chapter 6)

Play It Like It Lays by @thepointoftheneedle (1/1)

The Blue and Gold Couch by @thepointoftheneedle (1/1)

Together, Tomorrow by @sunshinebunnie (chapter 19)

The Vanishing Point by @easyluckyfree45 (1/1)

Waking up in Vegas by madamoiselleoubliette (chapter 2)

certain as the sun by @latenightcoffeetalks (2/2)

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Bughead Rereads - 39

The Rule by @secretsofthesky (1/3)

Never Be the Same by @peaceblessingspeyton (22/22)

Oops, I Think I Love You by @lazydaizies (12/12)

I Love It When You Call Me Baby by Ewokbanana (3/3)

Across the Bar by Ewokbanana (1/1)

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MISC. NON RIVERDALE - 28

Golden Hour by @new-ham (Harry/Allie) - chapter 4

to live for the hope of it all by @in-my-head-i-do-everything-right (Harry/Allie) - 1/1

i’ve got you (under my skin) by @kylotrashforever (Ben/Rey) - chapters 18 & 19

Fireflies by quixoticlux (Ben/Rey) - Chapters 1-13

Espresso and Experiments by @tully-blue (Five/Vanya) - 1/1

The Tale of Six Weddings by Katlyn1948 (Arya/Gendry) - chapters 1-3

Cover Me Up by @treaddelicately (Arya/Gendry) - 1/1

The Secretary by @pacific-rimbaud (Percy/Pansy) - 6/6

#reading fics with jandy #fics i've read this week

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theastrophilearchitect · 4 years ago

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How I fixed my sleep schedule.

I’ve always gone through phases of insomnia. It’s an endless cycle of can’t sleep, get tired, sleep too much, can’t sleep again. It’s frustrating. I would never wake up at a regular time and, when I couldn’t sleep, I’d end up miserably forcing myself to stay up later to make sure I actually slept once I went to bed, instead of doing that half-dozing semi-conscious crap.

I think a big part of the reason so many people have dysfunctional sleep schedules is just because beds are comfortable. That’s it. They’re comfortable, warm, and you just don’t want to get out of them. Weekend lie-ins are great, but they screw up your sleep during the week. That’s the hardest part of this: if you want to sleep regularly, you have to be regular, regardless of what day it is.

Please bear in mind I’m no medical professional and this won’t work for everyone, it’s not a universal cure to insomnia, this is just how I did it. But, if you are struggling, it’s probably worth a try.

1) Pick a wake-up time. To fix your sleep schedule, you first need to figure out how much sleep your body needs. This means fiddling with bedtimes and wake-times, and people generally have more room for flexibility with bedtimes - they just have more free time at night. So, you need to adjust your bedtime to figure that out.

Pick the time you want to wake up in the morning (I’d recommend some time around or after sunrise - getting up, probably earlier than you would otherwise, is hard, and doing it in the dark isn’t going to do much good for your mood or willingness to get out of bed.) and stick to it. I don’t care if it’s Saturday, get up. Same time, every morning, every day of the week.

2) Count back 7 hours. Generally, people need 7-9 hours of sleep a night. The goal here is to gradually increase the amount of sleep you’re getting, until you hit the right amount, and it’s best to start with an underestimate. You’ll be tired for a few days, but if you start with an overestimate, you then may not be able to sleep and this whole thing just won’t work.

So, take your wake-up time, count back 7 hours, and make that your bedtime for the moment - e.g. if you want to get up at 7am, go to bed at midnight. Again: every day of the week.

3) Put your alarm across the room. Alarms are hard to get up to. You hate the noise, so you shut it up, and go back to sleep, because you’re warm. I’ve been that person, setting an alarm every five minutes for an hour and still not getting up.

The trick to getting out of bed at your alarm is really not letting your body realise how warm it is. Wake up, get up, immediately. And the best way to do that is by putting your alarm, whether it’s a clock or a phone, across the room. It’ll go off, wake you up, and you, immediately wanting to silence it, you’ll get straight of bed without mulling in the warmth, and you’ll be more willing to stay out.

It sucks, but it works.

4) Wait a week. It takes around a week for your body to adjust to a new sleep pattern, so you might not really know whether or not it’s enough sleep until then. Since 7 hours isn’t enough sleep for most people, you’ll probably be sleeping right up until your alarm goes off. You’ll probably be tired during the day, but it’s ultimately worth it, and, besides, that’s what caffeine is for.

5) Adjust. After the first week, make your bedtime half an hour earlier. Wait another week. If, after the week, you’re still sleeping right up to your alarm, make it another half hour earlier, and repeat, until you start naturally waking up just before your alarm. When you wake up naturally at the time your body’s used to, it means you’re getting enough sleep.

Ideally, you should wait a week between each bedtime, but, if after you’ve got to at least 7.5 hours, you’ve been going to bed at a certain time for a few days and are still tired, you can adjust slightly early. But not until after at least a couple of nights.

6) Exercise your willpower. Honestly, it gets harder once you’ve worked out how much sleep you need, because when you wake up before your alarm, you do have a few minutes to enjoy the warmth of your bed. Even if you keep putting your alarm across your room (which I would highly recommend), it can make you want to get back into bed. You have to force yourself not to.

As a person who makes my bed every morning, after quieting my alarm, I have to go straight back to my bed to make it, because I refuse to let my alarm blare as I do that. Personally, I keep a water bottle with my phone across the room, which I chug from once the alarm’s off. I also open my curtains because it wakes me up, then I make my bed.

When you wake up before your alarm across the room, it’s all down to your will.

7) Adjust as necessary. The amount of sleep you need does change throughout your life, so, if your sleep schedule stops working for you, adjust it. Work it out again.

If there’s a specific morning or night in which you have to wake up early or go to bed late, that doesn’t meant change the unnecessary one - if you have to go to bed an hour late, wake up as you usually would, and vice versa. It’s a little tiring, but worth it.

If the time you need to wake up changes, feel free to adjust the whole schedule. You need to wake up an hour earlier than usual from September, wake up and go to bed an hour earlier. It’ll take your body a few nights to re-adjust, but it works.

Waking up earlier is genuinely fantastic. I find it makes me more energetic throughout the day, and gives me so much more time. I hope this can help someone.

#blog #blogging #blogger #sleep #sleeping #sleep schedule #fix #hack #hacks #life hacks #sleep hacks #sleep hack #life hack #self help #self care #health

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lets-talk-appella · 5 years ago

Note

If you have time can you do the “You’re not mature enough to be a parent.” - “Try me.” prompt.

This is like… more than a year later. But! I feel that we all need some fluff right now, so here you go, with a small modification.

Bounding

Summary: Domestic Bechloe fluff

Word Count: 2.5k

Rating: G for gross amounts of fluff

Ao3 and FFN (posted as a chapter in a series of prompts)

Chloe stares atthe pile of soggy, smelly laundry in the washer in disbelief. She blinks once.Yep. It’s definitely been sitting there. For several hours, judging by thecrumpled state of their clothes.

That’s when theannoyance sets in.

“Beca!” she shouts.

“What?” Becacalls from deeper in the house.

“Did you forgetto move the laundry again?!”

The ringingsilence she gets in return is all the answer she needs

After having beenmarried and living together for two years, it’s safe to say the honeymoon phaseis wearing off.

With a growl,Chloe reaches into the washer and tries to extract the clothes, which cling toeach other and the inside of the machine with stubborn tenacity. A whiff oftheir damp odor wafts into her nose and she cringes; changing her battletactics, she shoves the clothes back into the washer and slams the door closedso hard it makes the machine rattle. Muttering angrily, she wrenches open thelaundry cabinet and, in her haste to find the detergent, knocks over severalbottles of various stain removers and carpet cleaners, some of which crash tothe floor.

She groans outloud and stoops, collecting each item and shoving it back in the cabinet,knowing the lack of organization will annoy her later but not bothering to carenow. She untwists the cap of the detergent and, not paying close enoughattention to her task, pours far too much into the measuring cap and spends thenext few seconds pouring it back into the bottle. Of course, some trickles downthe side of the bottle and leaves a sticky blue mess.

Clicking hertongue in annoyance, Chloe tugs open the machine’s soap drawer, pours thedetergent into the slot, then slams the drawer closed. Her movements sharp andquick, she screws the cap back onto the detergent untidily, causing even moreof the soap to run down the sides of the bottle and onto her hand. With a huff,she wipes the bottle and her hand clean with some tissue and slams thedetergent onto its proper shelf so it knows what it’s done. Kicking the laundrycabinet door closed, she pounds her hand on the washer’s “start” button, whosecheery wash cycle jingle only worsens her temper.

Chloe blows astrand of hair from her eyes.

Is it really thathard to remember to switch clothes over to the dryer in a reasonable amount oftime? Or, is it so hard to do the dishes? Or, heaven forbid, put them away? Achore that Beca had neglected all week. Beca’s been neglecting lots ofhousehold tasks, now that Chloe thinks of it. Vacuuming, bathroom cleaning,studio organizing, meal prep. In fact, Chloe can’t recall a single thing Becaactually has helped with recently.

Chloe clenchesher jaw. They’re supposed to be a team.They’re supposed to work together to maintain house and home. They’re supposedto slow dance while cooking. They’re supposed to throw socks at each other whenfolding laundry. They’re supposed to trade kisses while passing one another inthe hall, one armed with a broom and the other pushing a vacuum.

But no. It’s beenChloe pulling both of their weights around the house, doing all the chores,while Beca sits behind her laptop mixing and doing who-knows-what, a veritableBeca Show while Chloe slaves away.

And she’s hadenough.

Gritting herteeth, Chloe barks out, “Beca! Where are you?”

A briefhesitation, then a small sounding, “Studio,” comes from Beca’s generaldirection.

Chloe snortsderisively. Of course. She stomps toward the study, moving quickly throughtheir kitchen and dining room and into the hall. The door to the studio roomBeca has claimed as her workspace is open a crack already, but Chloe stillflings it open. She holds onto the handle so it doesn’t ricochet off the wall(the last thing she needs right now is a drywall hole to patch) but it stillhas the desired effect; Beca stares at her from her desk, eyes wide andstartled.

“Chl—”

“Beca, what thehell?”

“I—”

“I had to restartthe washer because the clothes you leftin there started to mold.”

Which isn’tstrictly true. They just smelled kind of bad. But still, Beca’s grimacedelivers no small amount of satisfaction.

“I know, Iforgot, and—”

“You’reforgetting a lot!” Chloe cries, throwing her hands into the air. “Dishes,floors, bathrooms, cooking—”

“Chloe—”

“We need to eat, Beca! Do you want us both toabsolutely starve because you forgot to meal prep? I mean Jesus,Beca, I could pass out at work fromhunger if I don’t have lunch!”

Beca’s lipstwitch. Chloe feels some of her anger deflate, but rallies quickly.

“And what aboutthe—the floors? If we don’t vacuum—allergens! Molds! Dust! Everywhere!” Chloelists, regaining momentum. “Dirty carpets lead to heart disease, Beca, I readthat in the—”

“I’m sorry!” Becamanages, hands raised in a peace offering. “Really. I’m sorry. Work has beencrazy lately, and—”

“I work, too!”Chloe declares imperiously, though she knows her regular 9-to-5 hours as amusic teacher are less demanding than Beca’s often-erratic schedule meetingwith rising singers seeking production. “And yet I do everything!” She moves,storming farther into the room to join Beca behind the desk to peer at herlaptop. “What could you possibly beworking on that’s more important than—”

Chloe cutsherself off with a choking noise, unable to believe her eyes. She stares at thelaptop screen for a long moment, then looks back at Beca, who grins sheepishlywhile seeming to shrink into her office chair.

“So, um, I’vebeen thinking—”

“DOGS?” Chloeshouts, pointing an accusing finger at the laptop. “I’ve been breaking my BACKaround OUR house doing YOUR chores because you’re too busy looking at picturesof DOGS?”

“Um.” Beca says.“It’s the Humane site? I’ve just been thinking, you know, it might be nice tohave a dog?”

Chloe sputterswordlessly, despite the tiny part of her that agrees with Beca whole-heartedly.It would be really nice to have a dog. But she’s on a warpath, damn it, and shecan’t stop now. So, she draws herself up to her full height.

Beca’s eyes widenstill further. “They’re so fluffy, Chlo, look.”

“You’re notmature enough to be a dog parent!!” Chloe spits.

Beca’s eyebrowsdraw together and she lifts her chin, defiant. “Oh yeah? Try me!”

The words comeout loud and challenging, and for a second, they glare at each other. A smallmuscle twitches in Beca’s cheek, and Chloe has a fleeting thought towardkissing it.

Just like that,most of her anger drains away. She’s never managed to stay angry at Beca forlong.

“Fine,” she huffs,pinching the bridge of her nose. “Fine. I’ll ‘try you,’” she says, and noteswith satisfaction the sudden uncertainty in Beca’s eyes. “Time to go mattressshopping.”

Beca’s expressionturns to one of mingled horror and devastation. They’ve been talking aboutpurchasing a new mattress since their wedding, having used Chloe’s same oncesince college—which had been purchased secondhand from her cousin before herfreshman year. Which was several years ago. It’s safe to say the mattress hadbeen solidly worn out for a long time, with actual dips in the spots theyusually sleep. It’s just that mattress shopping—spending at least a few hoursin some stuffy mattress store, trying out the hundreds of options and findingsomething they both agree on—is such a chore that they’ve put it off.

Chloe standstriumphant, positive that Beca will drop the dog thing and agree to help morearound the house; basically, anything to delay the mattress shoppingexperience.

However.

To Chloe’ssurprise, Beca’s consternation changes quickly to resolve. She stands from herchair to meet Chloe’s eyes and closes her laptop.

“Fine!” Becasays, wearing that smug, closed lipped smile. “Let me get my keys.”

************

It takes themalmost twenty minutes to actually get in the car, because Beca is too stubbornto admit she lost her keys and wastes fifteen minutes stalling. Chloe finallydigs out her own keys and drives them to the nearest mattress store in silence.

When they arriveat the mattress store, Chloe is relieved to see the parking lot is fairly quietwith few customers. Beca isn’t a huge fan of crowds, and the guilt over makingher mattress shop on a weekend is already starting to set in a little. If therehad been a ton of people there, Chloe would have felt worse about it.

Maybe Beca sensesher guilt; her hand smoothes over Chloe’s lower back as they enter the store.The small gesture tells Chloe she has nothing to feel bad for, and that Beca’sright there with her.

“Good afternoon!”an older, smiling sales associate greets them almost immediately. Chloe’s eyesflick to a nametag: Jerry. His easy-going demeanor and welcoming expressionbring a smile to Chloe’s face.

“Hi!” she greets.“We’re looking for a king-sized, please. Can you help us with that?” As shealways does with new people, she looks for any telltale flicker behind his eyesat the realization that she and Beca are a couple. Thankfully, nothing in hisopen expression changes, and a moment later, Beca’s hand slips comfortably intohers.

“Definitely,”Jerry nods. “Right this way, please.”

He leads them toa side room, where dozens of the king-sized mattresses are aligned perfectly,gathered by brand and further organized by mattress quality and specifications.Maybe seeing their overwhelmed expressions, Jerry begins talking them throughthe advantages and disadvantages of certain brands, as well as the importanceof lumbar support, firmness-to-softness ratio, and customizable comfortsettings. Beca’s eyes glaze over about thirty seconds into his speech, thoughChloe catches her occasionally blinking in effort to pay attention.

It really, trulyisn’t anything against Jerry. It’s simply that mattress shopping is horrible.

It’s a bit of arelief when Jerry finishes the information overload. “I can see that you havemuch to consider,” he says kindly. “I’ll check on some other customers and comeback in a few minutes?”

“That’d be great,thank you,” Beca says, pulling herself out of whatever loop of music Chloe ispositive was running through her mind.

Chloe smiles atJerry as he returns to the main floor, and then turns to Beca. “Fun, right?”

“Super fun,” Becasays. “Very adult. Very mature of us to be here. Purchasing mattresses.”

“Mmm.”

“King-sized,even,” Beca continues. “Upgrade.”

“I thought wecould at least get a nice one.” Chloe walks toward a mattress, sitting on theedge and bouncing a little. “Ooh, Bec, this one is springy!”

“Oh yeah?” Becaasks, wiggling her eyebrows and slowly pacing to Chloe. “That’ll be fun…”

Chloe feels theheat rise in her neck as Beca draws closer.

“…for bouncingon!” Beca finishes her sentence, jumping completely onto the mattress andstanding on it. Before Chloe can stop her, she jumps on it once, making thewhole thing bounce under them both. “See?” Beca asks proudly, looking down ather.

“Get down!” Chloehisses, even while fighting a smile. “Jerry might be back soon!”

Instead, Becaextends her left hand. “Care to join me, m’Lady?”

It’s really thesight of Beca’s wedding band that does it. Chloe gives Beca her own left hand,and Beca helps her to her feet so they’re both standing on the bed.

“Beautiful,” Becasmiles, and it’s the easiest thing in the world for Chloe to lean forward andkiss her quickly.

“You’re just asbeautiful,” she says.

“Mmm, very true,”Beca agrees with a crooked grin. “We’re both stunning. Now, wanna race to theother side of the room?”

“Oh, it is soon,” Chloe says, and before Beca can so much as blink, she’s jumping from theirmattress to the next, bounding along, aiming for the far wall.

“Cheater!” Becacalls out, and then all Chloe can hear is Beca’s laughter from behind her andthe regular squeaking of bed springs as Beca jumps on the mattresses.

They race, Chloein the lead, bouncing from mattress to mattress, focused on their end goal. Theelation of it fills Chloe, rises in her chest with every jump she takes, andshe feels like a child. Beca draws closer, until she keeps pace with Chloe, andthen they’re not so much racing as they are just keeping near each other. Themattresses are large enough that they can bounce a few times on each beforeleaping to the next, and by the time Chloe gets close to the finish line, herlegs burn with effort.

She arrives onthe final mattress barely an instant before Beca does, and the second Becalands, she wraps her arms around Chloe’s waist and falls, taking her down tothe soft display bed with her.

They’re bothlaughing and out of breath, and Chloe clings to Beca, who pulls her close, eyesdropping to Chloe’s lips, and—

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

************

The car ride homeis as silent as the ride to the store had been.

Chloe keeps hereyes resolutely on the road, both hands firmly on the wheel. Beside her, Becastares out the passenger window.

Traffic hasgotten heavier, people going out to dinner or to shows to enjoy the weekend.They get stuck at a red light. It’s the same one that Chloe swears she always gets stuck at; it definitely hasit out for her.

Beca clears herthroat softly. “So… he was kinda grumpy, wasn’t he?”

The dam breaksand laughter bubbles up from Chloe’s chest. Beca starts laughing too, real,rich laughter that only makes Chloe laugh harder. They laugh, and keeplaughing, each one setting off the other, and it doesn’t subside until Chloe’sstomach hurts and her cheeks ache.

“Oh my god,” shemanages weakly, wiping tears from her eyes as the traffic light turns green andthey inch forward with the crowd of cars. “I thought he was going to kill us.”

“Nah, Jerrywouldn’t do that,” Beca says, waving a hand. “He was trying not to laugh thewhole time he was banning us from the store.”

“He still bannedus though!”

“Only because hetotally had to,” Beca argues. “We still ordered a mattress, so at least wedon’t have to do that again for a while.”

“It was more funthan I thought it would be,” Chloe concedes, taking her eyes off the road onlyfor a moment to smile at her wife.

“It was,” Becaagrees. “Though, maybe you were right about me not being mature. I’m sorry,Chlo. I’ll help more around the house and with everything.”

“I’d appreciatethat,” Chloe sighs happily. “And then, you know, we can talk about being dogparents.”

Beca perks upimmediately. “Yeah?”

“Totes,” Chloereplies easily. “And, maybe, eventually… parent-parents?” she glances over,biting her lip.

Beca is lookingat her like she put the stars in the sky. “That would be nice,” she says.

“Then it’s adeal,” Chloe agrees. “Just… no letting the dog on the new bed, okay?”

Beca doesn’tanswer.

“Bec, I mean it!”

“No promises,Chlo.”

#bechloe #Anonymous #my writing #bechloe fluff #beca mitchell #chloe beale

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