#also I’m sad my sis is gone again

[theshadowrealmitself]

Fuck it’s November 😭 I wasn’t gonna join any official writing challenge, but I wanted to try doing my own writing thing? And already off to a bad start

I mean, there’s still some hours left in the day, but I never really figured out the details of what I wanted to do, and it’s been a long week 😭😭😭

[princessbrunette]

Stepbro!Rafe is too hot to handle, idk out of all characters the trope suits him so well 🥵 I love your stepbro!Rafe headcanons because you just know he’d be so possessive and never let another man touch his step sis. Him with a sweet naive step sis would be so hot!! Like he makes it his business to make sure every man in Kildare is afraid of him so they never even dare approach his step sis. That leaves her never having gone on a date or even having been kissed so she innocently and naively pours her heart out to Rafe on night all vulnerable and lonely and sad thinking there’s something wrong and off putting about her because no boy has ever asked her out when all her friends are gossiping about their active dating lives and sharing intimate details of their sex lives whilst she’s feeling left out because she’s never had close to any of that. Little does she know Rafe threatens every man he sees even talking to her. So she innocently asks him stuff like “I wonder what I feels like to get eaten out” and he coaxes her into letting him do that to her because he’s just being a “helpful step brother”. And another night she’s curious about how to give a guy a blow job because she wants to be prepare for when she gets a boyfriend (foolishly thinking Rafe would let any man but himself touch her in that way) so he’s more than happy to teach her how to. And begins frequent night where she innocently wonders into room asking him to each her how to do things she hears her friends doing with their boyfriend like “Rafe, what does doggystyle mean 🥺?”, “Rafe did you know people have anal sex 😯?! Where men put their penises in inside the woman’s butt! I wonder what that would feel like???” Hmmmff step bro Rafe is a fave trope 🥵!!!

i love this a lot because there’d be so much manipulation involved and… idk when it’s rafe its hot 🙏🏼

“girls really… do this kind of thing? i don’t know rafe, it seems a little gross to m—”

“look, i just don’t want you to embarrass yourself, a’ight? you’re my little step sister… wouldn’t wanna have to beat some guys ass because he got mad you don’t know how to suck him off properly… right? y’know i’m just tryna take care of you.”

also, bonus points if reader starts to catch on. i mean you’re not an idiot, after the first few ‘lessons’, seeing how much rafes enjoying himself you start to realise it’s mostly for selfish gain. but… you turns a blind eye to it because as much as you know it’s wrong, you like it too. he makes you feel good.

you’ll come slinking into his room with your most innocent face on, pawing at him, so helpless and sweet, talking about “apparently… you can grind on a guys thigh and it feels really good… heard the girls talkin’ about it and i felt left out ‘cos i’ve never done it before…” your hand playing with the north face fleece he wore. he stares down at you knowingly, fighting away the urge to smirk.

“y’think i’m dumb or something?” he rasps after a minute and your eyes widen.

“huh?”

“you come in here… actin’ all sweet cos’ you wanna get felt up by your big bro again, ain’t that right?” the way he words it makes you recoil, shoulders practically at your ears as you rapidly shake your head. “yeah… yeah you want a freebie. i know your game.” he begins to back you against the wall, and you could cry from the humiliation.

“s’not true rafe, i just wanna learn!”

“bullshit. what happened to you, hm? i think… i think i’ve turned you into a slut.” he mocks concern, tilting his head with wide worried eyes. your bottom lip juts out just like he thought it would, shaking your head still in denial.

“no…” it comes out small.

“uh-huh. and you know what happens to sluts?” he closes in. “gotta be punished. i can’t have you turnin’ out like that… running around town trying to get yours. i gotta nip it in the bud, yeah? m’a proactive person, you know that— a good big brother, i gotta teach you a lesson.” he’s dragging you over to the bed, manhandling you to bend over his lap.

you must’ve caught him on the wrong night.

[cntloup]

Endure

G/N!Reader fluff, angst

As soon as he steps through the door, you’re all over him, latching onto him like a lifeline and he puts his strong arms around you, pulling you impossibly close, it seems your two bodies become one. Finally in his warm embrace after so long... how long was it? it felt like an eternity. But now he’s finally home and you’re in each other’s arms, safe and secure. It feels like in that moment, time stops. Nothing else matters. Just two lovers and the burning flame of their love.

He pulls away ever so slightly to take a look at you with glossy eyes when he feels you shaking with sobs. “Love, I’m home now. Safe and sound.” he whispers as though if he spoke loudly, you’d shatter into pieces in his arms. He gently wipes your tears and captures your lips in a tender kiss, slowly putting you down on your feet. You start to wipe your tears quickly with such force, it makes your skin burn as you nervously laugh with a quiet “sorry”. But the tears don’t stop and you continue to sob as a mixture of emotions hit you, both happy and sad. You had to suffer from his absence for so long and now he’s here, standing right in front of you. You don’t know how to feel. He wipes his own tears that rolled down his cheeks when he saw you for the first time in such a long time also it broke his heart as you broke down into uncontrollable sobs in his arms. He pulls you into a bone crushing hug trying to comfort you repeating the words “It’s ok, love. Just breathe. I'm home.” and he has to feel you against his body again to make sure you’re real and not just a fragment of his imagination.

You start to slowly pull away and force a smile that reach your tear-stained cheeks but not your eyes. “Are you ok? No injuries?” “Just some scratches. Nothing to worry about, love.” You wonder if he’s playing it down again in order not to worry you or if he’s being honest. You take his hand in yours and guide him through the hallway into the living room where you have his favorite food ready for him and a bath upstairs. “You wanna eat first or take a bath?” “I’d like a bath first.”

While he’s inside the bathroom, you try to busy yourself with your own chores, but you can’t stop the thoughts that run through your mind every time while he’s away and comes back after so long. ‘How many times do I have to go through this?’ ‘How long do I have to endure this pain?’ Missing him, his touch, his smell, his unique way of loving you, him doting on you all the while you’re together, kissing his scars and showing him such a tender love and fierce devotion he’s never experienced before and showing him that he deserves it, missing everything about him... and dreading for his life every moment that he’s gone. He steps out of the bathroom, a towel hanging low around his torso, interrupting your thoughts. At any other time, you’d jump him right then and there, but you’re too lost in your head right now to focus much on your surroundings, but still you walk up to him to make sure there’s really no serious injuries on him and he lets you then you let out a sigh of relief when you don’t find any. You face him with a smile but he can see right through you “You ok, love?” he mutters after kissing you gently. You can’t keep up the facade as it hurts too much and you never really want to act in front of him. With him, you can be yourself... even show the darkest parts of your soul and be sure that he will stay. “It hurts, Si!” you choke out after a few moments of silence as you start crying. “What?” he asks worriedly with a confused expression on his face. “You being away for so long and when you come back, I have to pretend like it’s nothing and it doesn’t shatter my heart every time. And while you are home, I know it will end eventually and you will leave again-” a loud sob interrupts your words. You inhale deeply and go on “I’m not saying it’s your fault. I know it’s your job and I’m not asking you to give it up. I knew from the start what I signed up for. But it doesn’t help the fucking pain and torment I have to go through every fucking time.” You say the last part through gritted teeth as the anger and frustration bubble up inside you and turn your head to face him as you both sit on the edge of the bed now and see the tears rolling down his cheeks “It hurts me just as much, love. And I want you to know that you’re the only thing that keeps me going and I promise that I will come back to you every time.”

“Promise you’ll be extra careful?” “Pinky promise.” he replies with a chuckle and locks your pinkies together as you set your eyes on him with a genuine smile this time. “I know it’s something I have to deal with on my own. It’s a weight I must carry myself because I love you... because you are worth the pain.” You utter with a lump in your throat. He can’t believe the words that reach his ears ‘Is this a dream?’ ‘How did I end up with such a patient and understanding person?’ He looks at you as though you're his whole life... his everything. He feels guilty and ashamed of himself that he puts you through this. He feels like he’s torturing you. “I can ask Price to lower my deployment numbers.” He’s sorry that it’s all he can do for now. “For now... we’ll see what the future holds.” “You mean-?” “Yes, love. I will retire eventually. In the near future.” You jump into his arms gleefully with a wide grin on your face making him laugh. He kisses you passionately and you pull away only when you run out of breath. He starts kissing all over your face whispering I love you’s over and over again. “I love you too, Si.” you reply with the same grin on your beautiful face which makes him truly happy every time he sees it.

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥ 

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 9 (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

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

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

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

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; jealousy; negative self-talk; talks of miscarriage and hysterical pregnancy; allusions to childhood abuse; talks of pregnancy; extreme feelings of stress and anxiety; feelings of sadness; abandonment issues; therapy; talks of grieving a baby; pregnancy hormones (just the beginning lol); reader checking Jake out and being sad while she does it (lmao) (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 22.1k+

a/n: sorry it took a month, besties... hopefully this angsty fucking chapter makes up for it lmao <3

and don't worry, i won't be gone long ;)

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

-Horace

-🌼🌼🌼-

October 30, 2022

Birds were chirping. The melodies of an acoustic guitar playing lullabies made your heart warm in your chest. A baby’s cries were being mellowed by the sound of the guitar. A smile, reaching the baby’s face that matched the one on the man playing the strings.

But you couldn’t look at him. Only the bundle of pure, unadulterated, untouched love in your arms; her eyes, looking the same as his, caught yours, the color of caramel coffee. . . twinkling just like his. . .

All pink and white and golden rays of sunshine.

Then, it was gone. 

No. Not again.

There was no more peace. No more lullabies. No more love from parent to child. . .

All dark and dirty and ear-piercing screams. 

A sister, trying to cover your eyes from what was happening, just inches in front of you.

Then there were hands. Hands gripping at your arms, the sister screeching, yelling and clawing for you as she got ripped away. As you got picked up so harshly your head hit something hard, making you dizzy. . . 

When you closed your eyes from the dizziness, you opened them afterwards to see that your sister was back. But she was older this time. 

Elsie. She was stunningly beautiful, as you knew she would grow up to be. Put together in an outfit that resembled that of Rachel Green. Her hair, flowing in strawberry blonde, soft waves around her delicate features and her blue eyes were wide open and wondering. Searching your eyes for something hidden in them. . .

What was she wanting? You couldn’t tell . . . Just as you were about to speak to ask her, she was in front of you, nudging you, not nearly as abrasively as the hands from before. 

You studied her quizzically – why was she–?

“Wake up!”

And the next time you blinked, your eyes were opened wide. 

To reality. To Elsie, shaking your arm in the present. You were an adult, she was an adult. Things were okay.

Life was safe again.

Shit. I’m so tired of that fucking dream, you thought angrily, sitting up and letting the covers fall away from your sweaty, tensed body. 

Blinking furiously, you let yourself cling to the softness— the safety of your bed. The bed hugged you, cocooned you in the fluffy down comforter. You were in your clean, quiet apartment. . . the rays peeking through your bedroom windows the same as they’d been at the beginning of your dream. 

“Sis,” Elsie said your name, out of all of her patience. “Come the fuck on. I’m hungry and I need coffee so bad. You know me. You know I’m about to lose all ability in my limbs if I don’t have caffeine stat–I need it. To survive,” she clutched her chest dramatically. “Please. Get your lazy ass up.”

You rolled your eyes with a giant huff, throwing your covers off of you to try and hit her with them. When you heard her gasp and slap at the covers, you figured you succeeded. 

“Y/n!” She said, backing up from the bed. When you saw her next, her hair was sticking up on all sides from static. Success. But she was laughing, finding it funny nonetheless. “You’re such a bitch.”

“Takes one to know one,” you said, sitting up to stretch a little. You had to fight the urge to put a hand to your tummy. Not in front of Elsie. “Now leave, I have to change.”

“I’ve seen you naked a million times before,” she argued. “Nothing I haven’t seen already.”

There sure as hell is something you haven’t seen on me already. . . Albeit a little small, but rounder nonetheless. 

“Well I don’t want you to look at my naked body this morning, so get the fuck out.”

You were getting irritated. Just wanted to change in peace. Wanted to hold your belly to start the day. It was routine at this point.

She growled, opening your door. “You have five minutes, or I’m leaving your ass.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

As you pulled up to Waffle House, scream-singing Ariana Grande lyrics with Elsie at the top of your lungs, you were sincerely hoping that your stomach wouldn’t roll at the smell of the greasy breakfast food. 

The nostalgia of the morning was something you wanted to wrap up tight and not let flutter away in the crisp and cool October breeze.

Please, sweet baby, you pleaded. Love Waffle House with me. Don’t make me give this up.

You wanted this with Els. This particular establishment had been cathartic to you and your sister for several years. Talks that far surpassed therapy sessions occurred here, in the back booth, almost completely surrounded by windows. . . The thought of sitting in that back booth was enough to make you cry right on the spot. 

And the All Star Special sounded so fucking delicious. Good sign that it at least still sounded good, right? 

You just wanted scrambled eggs, ham, hash browns with ketchup, and a gigantic waffle with the restaurant name pressed in the middle. It was all you wanted at that moment. Truly. Nothing more, nothing less. . . Your mouth was watering.

Cheesy and strange as it was, you were quite literally crossing your fingers that the food wouldn’t make you projectile vomit as Elsie opened the door for you two. 

Please don’t make me sick, please don’t make me sick. . .

To your extreme relief, your tummy didn’t knot and squeeze. No bile came to the base of your throat. . . In fact, the vanilla waffle mixture, the sizzling, salty smell of the bacon and ham. . . it was better than before. Your heightened senses welcomed the scrumptious, sentimental scents that came with the establishment. 

And the back booth was open! 

Tears literally pricked your eyes at the sight. And you must’ve sniffled because Elsie spun around, where you waited to be seated, and checked on you with worried eyes.

“You okay?” She pondered, her tone light with a joke, but eyes still serious. 

Not able to fully collect yourself thanks to the fantastic hormonal effects of your pregnancy, you felt a tear hit your cheek when you sniffled once more. 

“Yeah,” goddamn, even your voice sounded fucking wet with emotion. “Just happy to be here with you.”

Tell her, y/n. Let her help you. . .Tell her.

Fuck that came out of nowhere. 

The soft, reassuring voice being the one to guide you would take a lot of getting used to if it was going to continue as the one to help you, rather than the harsh, critical one that’d taunted you since you were a child.

Honestly, when the calm voice came to you, your mind settled in the waves of reassurance. This was the voice you longed to hear anytime the dark one wanted to boss you around. . .wanted to push you down when you were up. 

It always spoke soft truths to you. This voice didn’t make you feel like utter shit; this was the one that sounded more like Elsie than you’d like to admit.

As you started walking to your beloved booth, you were trying to find a solid reason to not tell Elsie right now. . . You had to tell someone. Right? And it was killing you to be around her and keep her in the dark. She was safe. And, at that moment, the only person you really wanted to tell was your big sister. No matter how bossy she may get, it was worth it to have her know. She was your one and only safety net for years for good reason. 

And she was going to be leaving again tonight until Thanksgiving. There was no way you could wait to tell her until then. 

She’d also never forgive you if you kept it from her for too long. You couldn’t blame her. If roles were reversed, you’d kill her if she waited to tell you until she had a noticeably round belly. . .

You sat down at your booth. You, at the seat with your back to the big windows, her smile wide as she made small talk with the worn-out waitress. Elsie’s smile, though, was big enough it brought a smile to the tired woman’s face. Elsie got along with everybody, and the waitress was no different. 

God, she was sunshine for you. 

As the woman placed your menus down in front of you two, you immediately flipped it to the side with the All Star Special. You watched her kind face, aged from years of hard work, and found comfort in the thickness of her voice from even more years of smoke, as she asked for your drink orders. 

Elsie ordered her blessed coffee and you sat there, contemplating. . . stuck. Normally, you’d order a Mr. Pibb. . .but was that healthy for the baby?

Your sister stared at you, her brows wrinkled as she gave you a questioning smile. 

“Just get her a Mr. Pi–,” Elsie started.

“I’ll take an orange juice,” you finished. 

The sweet waitress left to get your orders ready, and when you looked up from your menu to Elsie’s face again, she was looking at you like you’d grown three heads.

 “Orange juice?!” She asked, as if you’d just insulted her on a great scale. “Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”

You felt nervous under her stare and questions. You were going to tell her anyway. . . why were you feeling your skin prick with nerves? 

“Just felt like getting an orange juice. . .,” you said, shrugging your shoulders to play it off. “No biggie.”

“I cannot remember one time we’ve come here– in the years we’ve come here– where you’ve gotten anything besides a Mr. Pibb.” She leaned across the table to put the back of her hand to your forehead. She then jokingly asked, “Are you well?”

You watched her laugh at her own joke, her eyes, smiling. The same ones you’d looked into when, for years, you’d told her your deepest secrets. . . A couple of things came to your mind. When you lost your virginity and felt like shit about it (for God knows what reason); she’d raised your spirits by telling you she’d felt the same at first, but it got better with time. Then there’d been when you’d smoked weed for the first time and you felt so horribly about it (again, why?); she told you it was not a bad thing to do and that you deserved to feel so free as the drug would make you feel. 

Very rarely had she been extremely judgemental. 

Right now, she was giving you yet another look of concern, though. . .So, you decided. It was time. Now or never.

“Sis, what’s–?”

“I’m pregnant.”

There it was. First time you’d said it out loud. Damn. In that moment, it felt even more real to you, too. 

You were with child. There was a baby in you. There was life growing inside of your uterus. 

Then the opposite train of thought rushed through you. . .were you pregnant? Was the baby still in there? You hadn’t really had time to obsessive-compulsively research any of that yet. Could your tummy still grow if you had a miscarriage? Was that possible? Was there a baby inside of you?

You had to shake your head from your sudden wave of unwelcome, anxious thoughts. There was no reason to believe you’d lost the baby. . . right? Surely. . . You wouldn’t let your anxiety get the best of you. Blinking a few times, you chanced a look at your sister again.

She gaped at you, staying that way until the waitress came back with your drinks, not saying a word. Didn’t even look away from you when the waitress spoke, asking for your orders. You had to tell the woman it would be a minute, while Elsie still zoned out on you. 

Her eyes just bored into yours until you started feeling uncomfortable and irritable. 

Talk, Elsie. Fuck.

You clasped your hands together under the table, over your tummy. . .had to do something with them. And after continuing to wait a couple more minutes, you decided if she wasn’t going to say anything, you would. “Can you say some–?”

“What the fuck?” She asked, voice much louder than it should be for a quiet Sunday morning at Waffle House. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the heads of patrons turn towards you. Inquiring eyes were not what you needed at the moment.

Your cheeks heated as you grit your teeth. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Elsie?” You fumed, automatically defensive for the life inside of you. “I had sex. I got pregnant. Simple as that.”

You’d never felt this sense of protection for anyone in your life. Not even your sister. No, at that moment, you were ready to go to bat for your baby against the woman who’d been your first line of defense your entire life. 

Thankfully the next time she talked, she sounded more subdued and understanding.

“I– I didn’t mean for it to come off that way, babe,” she said, shaking her head, laying a hand against her forehead. Her eyes searched for yours to believe her. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t the right response.”

“It’s oka–.”

“This is a sensitive time for you–for any woman–my god,” she continued, not letting you make any excuse. “I was just in shock–still am, obviously–but I’m not upset,” she said, pausing. Then she narrowed her eyes, testing you. “How far along are you though?”

You giggled, remembering your earlier thoughts. The two of you were so alike. More like twins than anything, honestly. “I’m only like ten weeks, I think,” you smoothly said. “I found out two weeks ago, but I wasn’t sure if I was going to keep it or not, and I didn’t want to tell anyone until I decided. It was my decision and I didn’t want anything or anyone to sway me.”

“That is all valid and correct,” she agreed, nodding her head. Then, she continued asking questions as she poured too much half and half in her coffee. “How do you feel about it? Good? Bad? Sad? Happy? Overjoyed? Utterly depressed?”

Your eyes bugged, and you waved your hands at her once she was drinking from her mug, watching you and waiting for a response. “Damn, slow down,” you began, entwining your hands again, on top of the table this time. “First of all, per usual, I don’t always know how I’m feeling. . . But–it’s strange,” you started, squinting out the window just next to her. “It’s like, this time, instead of bouncing back and forth between sad and mad and confused. . .I’m more bouncing between a variety of happy emotions for this life,” you untangled your hands to once again place them on your tummy, below the table. “The confusion is still there, but for this baby. . .the emotions are mostly positive ones full of hope and love,” you looked back at her. “It’s weird.”

She was squinting at you, nodding her head as she took everything in. 

Then the waitress was back, taking your orders. And just as soon, she was gone.

Elsie spoke before you could. “What changed?”

Snorting, you gave her a look. “Really, Els?”

Yet again, she narrowed her eyes, but this time it was out of annoyance. “You know what I mean.”

You did. She wanted to get to the heart of it. Not the situation. But what had changed inside of you to instigate your new, surprising view of things? You really weren’t sure . . . To be completely honest, this new feeling had just started yesterday. Less than 24 hours ago, you’d made the decision that would change your life forever.

But, you answered the best you could in spite of it all. 

“I don’t know,” you glanced down at your hands, holding your sweater-clad tummy. You hadn’t had to delve into oversized sweaters the past couple of weeks. Not quite yet. Your tummy wasn’t that round. “I just kind of started thinking on behalf of this life I made, and not really myself. I put him, her–whatever the fuck it is– first and doing that just gave me this new outlook. Like I didn’t have all of the time in the world to criticize myself anymore. Because I have someone else to look out for. Someone special–someone whose life I have to be careful with– a life I hold in my hands.”

She giggled. “Literally,” she motioned in the direction of your hand placement. You joined in on her little moment of humor, enjoying the feeling of normalcy with her. She knew, and things were still the same as always. You didn’t feel any weirdness emanating off of her. This moment was easing you and brought you a sense of undefinable calm. Something you’d needed so badly. She kept on, having more to say. “I’m so fucking glad you’re starting to feel lighter,” she stated, reaching a hand out towards you, palm up on the table. “You’ve always carried so much on your shoulders. Always. And it has sucked to watch helplessly. You have hurt for too damn long and you deserve more than anyone to feel this new happiness.” 

The tear that suddenly gathered at the corner of your eye and trickled down your cheek was unstoppable.  

You moved a hand to place in hers and you squeezed each other. “Thanks Els,” you wetly responded. And nothing more– just needed her to know you were thankful.

After a minute of just communicating with your eyes, your food was being brought in small increments. Her biscuits and gravy were placed at the same time as your plate of eggs, hash browns, and ham. 

“Your waffle will be out shortly, honey,” the waitress smokily said, tone sweet as could be. “You two enjoy.”

After you’d both responded with a nod and she was gone, there was no stopping you two from digging in. 

After swallowing her first bite of food with a moan, she looked at you, still chewing your hash browns, which now tasted more like the sugary, tomatoey ketchup you’d smothered them with. 

“God, I was starving,” she said, taking a little sip of her half and half with a dash of coffee. She squeaked a little as she set her coffee down, a smirk on her glossed lips. “Josh would not quit last night.” 

You made a gagging motion at the implication, your brow furrowed with disgust at her words. 

Then, you took your first sip of orange juice. 

Goddamn.

Fuck! Ew. Baby does not like orange juice.

Coughing a little, your throat felt ready to reject the liquid right as it hit your uvula. Gross as it was, you put as much as you could back into the glass, not caring for Elsie’s reaction. 

“That’s not nasty at all,” she sarcastically noted, still chewing her food. 

You kept coughing into your hand, swallowing as much as you could, focusing on getting it down, not wanting to projectile vomit all over your breakfast. 

I’ll show you nasty, Elsie. Don’t test me.

You rolled your eyes at her remark, finally getting the remains of the drink down. You held your napkin to your face, coughing a bit. “Says the woman who’s talking and chewing,” you said, your voice weak to avoid any bile rising in your throat and at the sour, putrid taste still sitting on your tongue. “And you’re one to talk–telling me way more than I need to know about Josh.”

She snickered. “I’ll tell you more. Just say the word.”

Laughing once outright, you rolled your eyes. “Yeah, that won’t ever be happening,” you tried taking a bite of hash browns to get the taste of orange juice off your tongue. But it only made it worse. Your throat was not ready to accept any more at the moment. Spitting the mushy remains in your napkin, folding it up so as not to offend other customers. Your throat was tight as you responded. “I need water.”

“Here we go, babydoll! Waffles just for you,” the waitress returned, placing the food right in front of you. The waffle did not look appetizing in the slightest. You didn’t bother looking up to say anything, instead squeezing your eyes shut and willing the nausea away. “You okay, sweetie? D’ya need anything?”

“Can we get a water and a Sprite?” Elsie intervened, calmly requesting. “And like, ASAP, if that’s doable. . .”

“Sure thing! Back in a flash!” 

You kept your eyes closed, the twirling in your stomach not going away, but not intensifying either. You were scared to talk–afraid of what might come from your mouth if you did. 

“Here,” the sweet, older lady’s voice rang through, as you heard the plastic cups hit the table. She was rushing, her voice moving fast. “Gotta go to another table, but wave me down if ya need me, sugar.”

“I think we’re good for now,” Elsie reassured. You could hear the smile in her tone. “Thank you so much.” A few seconds passed, then your sister was tapping your hand that was still laid on the table. “Sis, please take a drink from one of them.”

Keeping one hand pressed to your mouth, you tapped the wrapper off of the straw. You chose the carbonated Sprite, banking on the carbonation and natural aid of Sprite for a sensitive stomach.

As soon as the ice cold, fizzing drink hit your tongue, you felt relief. The feeling hadn’t gone away in your tummy, but you also didn’t feel like you were going to hurl at any moment anymore either. You took a few short, yet healthy, sips, eyes closing again to center yourself. 

Your eyes trailed back to hers after you sat the cup down.

“You okay?” Elsie questioned, following you with her blue eyes, which swam with concern. You nodded, then she talked again. “Do you get sick a lot?”

Reaching for the water, you took one little drink of that, finally feeling able to talk. Your stomach was simmering slowly. You pushed the plates away, needing the food away from you for the time being.

“Not hungry?” 

You shook your head, your brows furrowed. “Not now. Fuckin’ orange juice,” you flipped off the offensively orange drink. Elsie snorted at you, and you grinned at her. “And to answer you, yes. I puke all of the time. Thought it was stress at first. Just throwing up because of all of my stress.”

She rolled her eyes, pushing her own food away. “You’re an idiot.” You scoffed at that, offended. “I’m just saying. You’ve never been a puker. Fevers and shit, yes. But never thrown up a whole lot. And you’ve had some terrible fucking stress in your life. . . never vomiting from any of it; just to remind you.”

“I guess I just wanted to stay ignorant,” you admitted. “And I didn’t think it was possible at all that I was pregnant.”

She hummed in understanding, then she leveled you with a stare as she took a drink of her coffee. 

“What now?” You groaned. “You fuckin’ weas–.”

“Does Jake know?”

Your stomach fell all the way to the bottom your feet. Fuck. What? How did she know?

Stupidly, you tried to reject it. Why would you try to hide it from her? You didn’t know. There was no point in trying to hide it. 

“Why would he need to know? This doesn’t concern him. He’s not the fath—.”

She practically honked with a huge laugh, blossoming from the back of her throat. You blushed, sinking back into your seat. Why would you even try to play dumb? You knew better than to do that with her. 

After wiping a little tear from below her eye, she sipped at her water. Sitting her glass down, she coughed a couple times and snorted with another giggle before continuing. “Please do not insult my intelligence like that.”

Weakly, you tried to defend yourself. “You believed me at the festival that we weren’t fucking anymore, so I just assumed–.”

“You think I believed that shit?!” She gawked at you– in disbelief that you’d thought that of her. “I just wasn’t going to push it out of you while you were so obviously in the depths of sorrow over that girl that was with him.”

Face flushing yet again, you chewed on the inside of your cheek. “‘Depths of sorrow’ is dramatic.” And true, you silently agreed with her. So incredibly, stupidly true.

“And you’re pregnant with Jake’s kid,” she pushed, wanting to hear you say it yourself.

You looked up at her through your lashes, not ready to say it out loud. But definitely needing to. . . and who better than your sister to say it out loud to for the very first time?

“Jake is the baby’s father, yes,” you said plainly, looking directly in her eyes as you said it. Then, immediately peering out the window, directly to your right. “Half him, half me,” you murmured, under your breath.

You pressed your shoulder, clad in your fluffy sweater, against the chilled glass. You still felt the coldness from the brisk autumn day through the thick windows. It calmed your heart which beat frantically against your breastbone. Talking out loud about Jake being the father of your child made reality slap you in the face. You were carrying Jake’s baby. Inside your womb was half of Jake and half of you. Together. Something you’d made. . . together. 

The thought of a part of him just floating around in your uterus was honestly jarring. . . but not unwelcome. Not unwelcome at all. No, in fact because the baby was half of him, you’d decided you had to keep it. Jake was the reason that the baby was a necessity to this world. A piece of the first man you’d ever. . . 

You shook your head amidst the raging thoughts, deciding to cut them off right. there. That was a path you did not want to venture down. 

Dangerous territory.

Knowing the baby was his and that fact being was the sole reason you had to keep it. . .that was big enough for you to acknowledge. Huge, actually. . . You couldn’t believe you’d let yourself face that so surely and honestly. But. . . that was something you refused to tell your sister. That was one thing for you and only you to know. It felt too personal to share–belonged in your heart alone.

The mother and child you were observing just outside Waffle House were about to get you lost in thought again . . . You could spend hours appreciating a true, authentic love between a mother and her child. You’d never had it, and it was just so unique in and of itself. A relationship that held its own definition of love. A love so lovely, precious, safe. . . wholesome.

You were desperate to create that for a child. Something you hadn’t had the privilege of experiencing. And the baby in your womb deserved to feel it. . . But could you do it? Or were you too much like your mom?

Before you could fall down that depressing rabbit hole, you slowly swiveled your head back in the direction of your sister. 

Then, without much contemplation, you unloaded. Told her everything. Informed her of the situation between you and Jake, how you started feeling iffy about all of it towards the end, and then how you’d decided to cut it off due to your desire to protect him. It rushed out of your mouth, with almost no thought and you honestly didn’t have time to consider anything before it slipped from your lips and into the air between the two of you. 

Elsie was watching you, eyes attentively following your every word and movement. She looked ready to help. As always. Her eyes, the color of the ocean and just as deep and sure as the waves that enveloped it. The overwhelming calm you felt after telling her, also similar to the ocean in its ability to offer peace. . . 

What she said first was not what you were expecting. No counsel. Just humility. 

“I’m sorry for what I said about you watching that girl with Jake at the festival,” she started, tucking her hands in her lap, expression sincere. “That was callous. Not the time.”

Wrinkling your brow, you argued back, unnecessarily defensive and overwrought with emotion after spilling all of that and for the life in your belly (lovely hormones). “I’m still me, Elsie,” you huffed, rolling your eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

She raised a brow, combatting you. “Fine. If you’re still you, then I can say this: get the fuck over yourself and just be with him,” taking a drink of her coffee, she made a face. “Room temperature coffee is absolute balls,” she looked over her shoulder, trying to connect eyes with the waitress. 

You saw the woman head your way, and immediately got the hint when Elsie held the cup out with puppy dog eyes. “You’ve got it, sweet baby.”

“Thank you,” Elsie said, her voice that of a grateful servant to the woman. 

“You, with your food and drinks that must be so hot they burn your mout–.”

“We’re not done with you. So, shut up.”

“Jesus, Elsie! I–.”

Holding a perfectly manicured hand up, black nails flashing in front of you briefly, she cut you off. “No! I don’t want to hear any more of the bullshit. You’re literally having his baby. Get over this. . . thing in your head, and just be with him. You obviously want it. And I think he does, too.”

You sighed, the breath coming fully from your lungs. It wasn’t like you didn’t want it, too. . . it was just complicated. “It’s not that easy, Elsie,” you lamented. “There are several pieces to the puzzle.”

“Liiiiike . . .?” 

“Well, for one,” you held up a finger to start the count. “He has a girlfriend now.”

“No he doesn’t,” she scrunched her face, completely disagreeing. “He’s not with any–.”

“They showed up to the party together, Elsie. The girl from the festival. And they have a past. He was groping her all night last night and she never left his side,” you repeated the events aloud, your stomach rolling at the heinous thoughts. 

“Oh, shit,” her eyes got big, blowing out a slow breath. “I didn’t even realize. Josh and I–.”

“Were roaming the room for half of the night and preoccupied for the rest of it,” you said, shivering at the deplorable thought of your friend and sister. 

“I was with you for a good chunk of it, too, bitch,” she corrected, pointing at you. 

You stuck out your lip, nodding to agree. “You’re right. . .but you were also way too distracted by Josh to notice.”

She made the same face, mirroring you. “You are not wrong,” she grinned smartly, winking suggestively. “No regrets.”

“I’m going to puke on you.”

“Oh my god, please don’t,” she gagged. And then started singing a thank you as the waitress came back with your tickets and a fresh coffee. After dumping one million half and half cups into her mug, she took a hearty sip. When she sat it down, she practically vibrated in delight. “Oh hell yeah.”

“You know Josh hates coffee,” you noted. “Prefers tea.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, I know. We’ve had many long debates over the ridiculous fact,” she growled. “He’s a miscreant when he wants to be.”

You laughed outright. “Yes he is. Little fuckin’ gremlin.” 

The sound that roared out of her was more reminiscent of a yell than a laugh, but it became a string of snorting and giggles that you joined in on. After a few minutes of enjoying the sound of the other’s laughter, you shook your head and scratched your brow before seeing your phone light up with a notification. 

Stupidly, your tummy fluttered at the possibility of it being Jake texting you. But then you remembered that he would absolutely not be texting you in his right mind. . . that was not where you were with him right now. You weren’t sure you’d ever be there with him again. And that thought made your tummy sink as soon as it’d fluttered. 

Though, the notification on your screen was enough to bring a little grin to your face, your eyes watering with the overwhelming excitement and joy that ignited in your heart at the update from your Ovia Pregnancy app. 

Week 10: Congratulations, y/n! You’re heading into the tail end of your first trimester. Your baby is now the size of a kumquat and almost 1 ¼ inches long!

Not being able to help it, you turned your phone to Elsie so she could see the notification as well. 

She read through it, her mouth moving as she took in the words. A wide, toothy smile made its way to her face–her entire demeanor lighting up with you. Clutching both hands to her chest, her eyes were wet next time you saw them. Your own eyes filled with more tears at her reaction to it. 

“I’m so proud to be an aunt to your little kumquat baby!” She said, her voice actually quivering with emotion. 

“I’m glad you’re proud,” you responded with a sniffle, drying your undereyes with a Waffle House napkin. “I’m proud, too.”

Her smile turned close-mouthed, yet no less sincere and delighted. “You should be,” she paused, then her crying eyes dried a bit as her tone turned serious. “And Jake will be, too. I know it, babe,” she stopped, pondering a thought. “You are going to tell him, right?”

You didn’t have to think about your answer. He had to know. You wanted him too, really. “Yes.” Then, your tummy flipped. “ But I don’t know if he’ll be super excited when I do,” you shook your head. “This was not in the cards for him this year. . . I wouldn’t blame him if he rejected the idea of me being pregnant with his baby.”

“Well, he wouldn’t reject it. I can say that for certain–I’m dating his twin and I know Josh would never reject a baby,” she said, wiping at her face with her own napkin. “And, I’m going to argue the other part, too. . . it obviously was in the cards for him,” she reached a hand out towards you and you took it. “This happened for a reason, sis. A good one. And Jake will view it as such.”

“I just don’t want it to slow him down,” you squeezed her hand, looking down to where they entwined on the gray table. “I need him to keep going and chase his dream.”

She raised a brow, shook her head from side to side, once again disbelieving. “He will, y/n. He’ll keep going. Josh is– and he and I are dating?. . . What’s the difference?”

“Where do I start? Most importantly, I’m messed up in the head and I need to work on myself before I expose him to myself,” you insisted, bringing your hand back to place on your tummy. “And he and Josh are different. . .Josh has a drive that Jake doesn’t. Jake gave up his dream before and he’ll do it again if he’s allowed. And a baby is already damn near the most drastically life changing thing that could happen to a person. Could completely screw up his plans,” you sighed resolutely. It was clear to her that you were firm on this, so she sat back with open and considerate eyes to let you finish. “Best to keep things separate between us so he has one less thing that is tempting him to put himself last. A baby is enough.”

She hummed, taking it all in. After taking a moment, she gave a response. “I just have one question.”

“Yes?” You prepared yourself, raising a brow.

“What’s the difference between you and the girl?-- What’s her name anyway?”

“Maya,” ugh. Hate that name. “Her name is Maya. And she is normal where I am not.”

“O-kaaaay,” she replied, still unsure of the validity in your response. You didn’t know why she seemed so unsure. She knew you better than you knew yourself. She knew you were jacked up. She let out a massive sigh, then continued. “Well, I don’t personally think you know her well enough to make that assumption. She could be more detrimental to him than you–.”

“Not possib–.”

“And you could be exactly what he needs,” she said, almost in finality, though it was obvious she wasn’t done when she leaned forward, her tone hard and steadfast. “You’re also not as “jacked up” as you seem to believe you are. Have you got things to heal? Yes. But are you still one of the most incredible people that has ever walked this planet–if not the most incredible? Even more so, yes,” her eyes watered again, but she sniffed the tears away to say her last piece. “I think you could very well be exactly what Jake Kiszka needs to be complete. And even though I wasn’t around for all of the intricacies of you two, I should’ve caught on. Because I do know the way that man fucking looks at you. . . and dammit if I’ve ever seen another man look at a woman the way he looks at you. . . not even Josh with me or Grandpa with Grandma.”

Your heart swelled and your cheeks grew instantly red. Your blood buzzed in your veins. . . did he really look at you like that? 

Then, selfishly, you wondered if anyone else had noticed like Elsie had. . . like Josh. Fuck. Did he see how Jake looked at you? Had he already presumed things about you and Jake based on how his twin apparently, blatantly, ogled you? And then you realized, yet again, how you would have to obviously tell Josh of the baby. . . oh god; how would he react?

“I wish he wouldn’t,” you muttered. “I don’t need anyone to–.”

“To know?” She squeaked a giggle. “I’m sorry, babe. . . but I think your cover’s about to be totally blown within the next nine months.”

You groaned, placing your forehead in your hand as you blew your hair away from your face. “How will Josh react?” You moaned, halfway to yourself and halfway to her. 

“What?” 

You snapped up. “How in the hell is Josh going to react?!” You anxiously quizzed her, eyes wild. “He is already going to be hurt that I kept it from him. And then there’s the reason I kept it from him in the first place. . .,” you felt tears well in your throat right before you nearly slammed your head on your crossed arms, which laid against the table, dramatically. 

Okay, these hormones can fuck right off. 

“Why’s that, sissy?” She carefully inquired, tone soft, not judging your reaction the way you internally were. “Remind me again.”

You moaned, raising your head and willing the tears away. “He made it so incredibly clear to me how Jake didn’t need another woman infiltrating his life and distracting him. And how Jake needed this time to discover himself for the first time in his life. . . and I’ve completely ignored that desire of his,” a lone tear slipped from your ducts. “I’ve betrayed him. Selfishly.”

Letting the words sit in the air between you, she waited a couple of beats before inserting her two cents. “When does Jake finally get what he wants?”

You wrinkled a brow, tears completely dissipating out of curiosity for her next words.

“I mean. . .” she started, making a thoughtful smacking sound with her mouth. “Josh thinks he can call the shots. You think you can just decide to not let yourself ruin his life? Like, what the hell, first of all? And second of all. . . what if he doesn’t care about any of that shit and just wants you? Did you ever take a second to consider that?”

“Yes, Elsie,” you growled, defensive once again. “And that’s why I’m keeping the ball in my court. I’m protecting him. And that was Josh’s intent, too.”

“I don’t know where you two get off acting like Jake isn’t a grown ass man who can make his own decisions. . .,” she trailed off, flashing an irritated look out the window. 

You did not want to get into this right now. The conversation was trailing much further than you fucking wanted. Your nerves were practically electrifying you and your head felt heavy.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Elsie,” you shortly bit out at her. She snapped her head back at you, her eyes still on fire. You stayed firm. “I’m done talking about all of that shit,” your hands laid safely on your lower, swelling tummy. “I have bigger things to consider now,” after glancing down at your stomach, you hit her with another stern glare. “So drop it.”

Her chest was heaving. 

You were not sure what was happening; why was she suddenly so “Team Jake”? When had that happened? And again, why? 

“Fine,” she conceded, sniffing resolutely once and then went to sip her coffee. Which, by the look on her face, was cold again. “Yuck. Can we bust this joint and go to Starbs? I need the sweet stuff.”

You sighed with relief at the change in subject. “Yes,” you smiled. “Let’s.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

It was just you and your sister in the open apartment, which was now completely cleaned from last night’s festivities due to your obsessive-compulsive cleaning. Though, you couldn’t help but notice when you’d come back from breakfast, Jake had been gone and the apartment looked much better than when you’d left with Elsie. It felt nice that he cared for the apartment, too–enough to try to keep it clean. 

You trained your thoughts on Elsie, as she waited at the door to leave, bags completely packed, awaiting her Uber to the airport (you were, unfortunately, so suddenly fucking tired that you had decided you weren’t fit to drive her). 

You didn’t want to let her go. She was your one person who knew now, and no matter how much she challenged your stance on Jake, she was still your sister and your person and you needed her with you during this time. . .

“Can you not just stay for a couple more days?” You tried once more, knowing better than to ask, as she’d repeated the words more than once now. “Let them know your sister is having an existential crisis and needs you?”

She huffed with a grin, rolling her eyes. “You are literally fine,” she reassured, reaching a hand out to hold your arm. But instead of letting it stop there, you fell into it and let yourself fall into her–let yourself wrap both of your arms around her shoulders, hugging yourself tightly to her. 

“Please don’t leave,” you moaned, your voice so meek it was straight up depressing. “I need you.”

She hugged you back, dropped her duffel off her shoulder in the process of embracing you. “I always need you, sissy,” she agreed. “But I’m just a FaceTime or text away,” she assured you, combing her hands through your wet hair, having taken a shower while she’d been gone saying her goodbyes to Josh. “I’m here. And you have people here. You just need to let. them. in.”

“I know. . .,” you sighed hotly into her natural curls. “I’m just so scared to tell Jo–.”

“I’m tired of hearing that, babe,” she asserted firmly. “Because the last person you need to be scared to tell is Joshua,” she stated, leaving no room for argument, right in your ear. “And if you think about it, you know him well enough to fucking know that. So get out of your maze of thoughts and know the truth.”

She was right. . . Truly, you knew she was. You knew his heart. But. . . “How will I even. . .?” 

Pulling away from you, she kept her hands wrapped around your forearms, keeping a caring hold on you. Keeping you near. “I’ve actually been thinking about this, like, all day. . . but the first thing that came to my mind is what I keep going back to.”

You waited for more, but she didn’t continue her thought. Impatient, you asked. “Which is. . .?”

“Invite him to a doctor’s appointment. Maybe your. . .first?” she offered, questioning the last part. But sounded completely sure of her idea. “It’s the perfect way to break it to him. And. . .if I’m correct, I’m assuming you haven’t had one yet since you just decided to keep it?”

“Yeah. . . no appointment yet. So, I could. . .ugh,” you answered. “But– why? How–? Will he–?”

“It’s the ideal situation because he will feel like he’s being helpful and loving. He’ll be able to be there for you. He’ll feel needed and involved and that is literally all Josh wants in general in life, so. . .”

“It’s perfect,” you weakly agreed. It really was. You couldn’t deny it.

“Yes, it is,” she flipped her hair over her shoulder and lifted her duffel bag back over her shoulder. “I came up with it.”

You scoffed. “Okay, now. Don’t get a big fuckin’ head, loser.”

“Bitch,” she bit back, shoving your shoulder. 

Rubbing your shoulder in faux pain, you gave her a pitiful expression. “Elsie. I am with child, you need to be careful with me now.”

Bursting with a chuckle, straight from her chest, she shoved your other shoulder. “I’m not touching the damn stomach, so I’m good.” 

You shoved her back, dropping the act and giggling with her. “You right, you right,” you said. Then, your thoughts came back to the task at hand. The baby that was squirming around in you. “I’m still scared.”

“That’s another perfect aspect of telling him in that scenario though,” she added, assuring you with her opinion. “You can’t back out. You’ll have to tell him if he meets you at the doctor’s office or takes you there or whatever the hell he does. . . you’ll have no choice but to tell him before you go in. And he’ll just have to take it,” she said, her plan sounding, admittedly, concrete. “He will survive,” she dropped her hands from your arms and looped her belt bag around her chest before placing a hand delicately to your cheek. “I promise he’ll survive.”

Just then, her phone dinged, indicating her Uber had arrived. So, with many “I love you’s” and a few curse words, you were following her down the stairs, then hugging her tightly once more outside of her awaiting Uber. 

And as you watched her leave the parking lot, the tears started to flow. So. many. tears. Steady, hard, relentless weeping. . . 

The emotions were obviously true, yes, but the hormones–and your current, lonely headspace– were amplifying the already-existing emotions of her leaving to an incredibly irritating degree.

But before you could lose yourself in them any more, you heard a door to a car shut to your left, along with a laugh you knew all too well. Jake was home. 

And if you didn’t move, he was going to see you as a hysterical mess and you did not want his fucking pity right now. Last thing you needed. And worse, you also didn’t want to see his expression, for the chance it might be hard and uncaring. You also didn’t want to possibly see a certain woman arrive with him. 

You were sure she was with him. The feminine giggle you heard accompanying his endearing chuckles could be no one else.

So, instead of looking in his direction, you turned quickly on your heel and speed-walked up the stairs, a hand on your tummy to avoid any hurt to the kumquat baby. 

As soon as your back hit the closed door, you breathed a sigh, which turned into a long yawn. The kind that made you shiver with a sudden, urgent desire to sleep. You didn’t have to work today, you’d canceled study plans. . . So suddenly, you felt abundantly free and a nap sounded like the perfect remedy to the overwhelming emotions of your day.

-🌼🌼🌼- 

Monday came and went before you even knew it was happening. As did Tuesday. As did Wednesday. And when Thursday came around, you had your Modern Poetry elective. The one class you had with someone you knew relatively well. 

You hadn’t made it a priority to make tons of friends while in school to get your degree–you’d had Josh and Elsie, and eventually Sammy and Danny. . .and that had been enough. 

But, when Theo had popped back up into your life, anytime you saw him in a class, it really did feel nice to be around someone familiar at school. Even though he was on the more annoying side, he was still a good confidant.

And especially with the massive course load this semester, having someone you knew around was helpful. Good for feeling less alone. He was somebody who was going through school with you; he got the overwhelming amount of pressure from school, too. He felt the senioritis, too. . . but, his case was slightly different. 

He was ready to be done with school so he could pursue this career he longed to have in writing, while you were just ready to be done. 

Initially, when you had started the semester, you were just ready to be out of Pratt because you felt like you were wasting your time on a degree you’d lost passion for (save for your minor in media studies which gave you the occasional music-related course).

Now you weren’t sure why you were ready to be done. What made you feel more anxious to put Pratt in the past now? Was it the burning desire to be done with a passionless major? Or did the life in your tummy have something to do with it? The thought of the baby you held inside honestly got your blood pumping more excitedly in your veins than a college degree ever could. 

You really only cared about ascertaining a healthy baby– no longer caring much for a piece of paper saying you had studied writing, uselessly, for four long years. 

But you had to make it through school. If not for you, for your baby. You didn’t have much longer left, and you owed it to that child to see this through. You had to find some drive though. So, in came Theo to help with that. He was great at encouraging others, and that was exactly what you needed while trudging through the sixteen hours of classes you’d enrolled in this semester. 

When you were getting up to leave for class that afternoon, you had your mind set on a big jar of baby pickles (stereotypical pregnant woman, much?). You were ready to get off campus and to the nearest grocery store for the deliciously tangy food. 

Before you could leave your two-person table, though, a hand came out to grab your arm as a way of stopping you. If you had acted on impulse, you would have whined and stomped your foot in protest at being kept from satisfying your pickle craving. 

But you didn’t act like a petulant child. Instead, you turned around, eyes opened and ready for whatever was needed from you. 

And when you looked behind your shoulder, Theo was there, a head or so above you, smiling and waiting for a response. 

“Yes?” You asked, semi-irritatedly, semi-sweetly. “What’s up?”

He just stared a little while longer, blinking rapidly before shaking his head. His blonde hair had grown out a bit and shook with the movement, eyes twinkling just enough, making your heart thump a little harder in your chest. 

Why in the hell? 

“I meant to ask you Tuesday, but you were gone before I could,” he started, adjusting his messenger bag over his shoulder. He shifted on his feet a little before peering curiously into your eyes. “Are you okay? I missed seeing you for our usual Sunday study time. . .”

You swallowed, slightly grumpy that he felt the need to pry. 

He’s just showing he cares, y/n, the angelic voice said, which now stopped by more occasionally than the negative one. 

Not wanting to tell him anything too personal (God, no), you went with the bare minimum. “A friend hosted a Halloween party at my place on Saturday, and my sister was actually in town for it,” you divulged, wrapping your fists tighter around the straps of your backpack. Please let me leave after this. “So I hung out with her yesterday while she was still in town.”

Not the whole truth, but not so much dishonesty to  me feel bad.

“Oh!” He said, a light hearted laugh accompanying his tone. “Cool. I remember from high school how close you two were.”

I remember how much she didn’t like you, you thought, feeling uneasy at past-Elsie’s opinion of the guy.

Was he really that bad though? He’d been great for you during high school. Even though it had only been a year of time with him, he had still been a decent person to have around during those formative years of your life. He had been considerate, kind, helpful. . . the only negative things you could remember were the few times he’d try to get you to calm down on unnecessary occasions. He could be occasionally judgmental, but wasn’t everyone to an extent?

And maybe you and Elsie had only been your average, overly sensitive high school girls and had thought he was worse than he actually was.

Because at this moment, all you could see were the green flecks in his blue eyes and how they caught the sun that shone in from the window behind you, and onto his pale face. The way he waited earnestly to hear your response made you feel special and valuable to him at this moment and what woman didn’t like that?

“Yeah,” you said, tucking some hair behind your ear before folding your hands over your chest. Aaand, wincing, you quickly moved them away. Your boobs were especially tender with the extra pressure against them. Every day they seemed to get more sensitive to the touch, feeling heavier–fuller. “We’re still that close. Probably closer now, actually. After living together, and then her job forcing her to be far away often. . .,” you trailed off, sad at the thought of her being so far away all the damn time. “We’re forced to communicate way more than we ever have before.”

He nodded, winking at you. And although he was cute, you didn’t feel anything at the wink, really. It didn’t swirl your tummy with nerves like it would with someone. . .else. You chalked it up to the craving that was still distracting you, making your tummy growl. 

He cleared his throat before he tucked one hand in a jeans pocket and one tighter around the strap of his bag. “Intentional is the word,” he added with another wink, seeming to understand to a degree. But you caught the aggravating ‘know-it-all’ attitude. Tipping his head, he looked at you with smiling eyes. “You okay?” He motioned with his hand at your neck-chest region.

Your brow furrowed, confused. Defenses were instantly raised and you took a step back, tucking your hands into your back pockets. “Yes?” You retorted, tilting your head to challenge him. “Why?”

“Just saw you flinch and all,” he said, in wonder at your tone. When he spoke next, he no longer seemed understanding, only misunderstanding. “Nothing big. Don’t worry,” he held his hands out, as if calming a tiger. 

You felt stupid for overreacting, so you covered your tracks with a forced giggle, masking the situation the best you could with a straight-up (ironic) lie. “Just a certain time of the month,” you explained extremely falsely. “Overly reactive to everything right now.” That was true. 

“Oh,” he pointed a finger at you, pretending to get it. “Makes sense.”

Okay, you thought, squinting at him as he looked to the side with a sort of confidence. Maybe Elsie had been onto something. . . 

But then he peered down at you again with his sparkly eyes and shaggy, naturally blonde hair.  It made you feel a little weak for the guy, even with him irritating you.

But why was he irritating you, exactly? Maybe your emotions were controlling you a little too much– getting too easily offended thanks to the hormones. . . Perhaps he was just acting like a normal human, while you were the one who wasn't reacting like a normal human.

Your stomach was fucking growling though. . .Theo didn’t matter worth fuck at that moment. What did matter was how badly your body was craving eating for two. If you didn’t eat soon, you were afraid you would faint from lack of sustenance (you definitely wouldn’t, but there were the over-reactive feelings again). 

You started backing up, and made it just next to the table when you were saying your next words. “I’m going to go ahead and get out of her–.”

“Wait!”

Having just turned on your heel, your face was hidden from view, and you were able to roll your eyes when you heard him. You weren’t going to stop though. He could follow you to the parking lot. You were hungry and grouchy and ready to eat an entire jar of pickles before crashing hard against your sheets. Before you had to show up at the B&G for the evening shift.

“Follow me,” you said, short, only looking over your shoulder at him briefly before continuing your trek. But please don’t talk for long. 

You were just outside North Hall when you decided to stop, so you wouldn’t have to fear him stalling you at your car.

“What’s up?” You asked, playing cool despite your desire to grumble. 

“I actually– I just thought–,” he laughed, seemingly at himself. He scratched behind his ear. Then he stood up straight, determined after tucking both hands into his front pockets and clearing his throat for the second time that day. You noticed his jeans, dark wash, skinny, and complimenting his firm thighs. “I wanted to ask you to hang out with me sometime– outside of here.”

Seriously? He was stopping your pickle eating for this?

You couldn’t help the snicker that escaped you, confused. “We do hang out,” you grasped tightly to the straps of your backpack again, anxious to get food. Already tired of him. “Every Sunday.”

“Well, yeah,” he agreed, pausing. Then he grinned in a way you assumed he thought was cute. But all it really did was make your eyes hurt from the inability to roll, out of courtesy for him. He continued, taking a step closer. Your hands did start perspiring and your heart sped up positively at his proximity. “But I thought maybe we could do something not related to school?”

You opened your mouth to reject it–you were not interested. For many reasons. The biggest being the baby in your belly. . .

Although, the more you pondered the baby, you realized more than that, you were hesitant because of his or her father.

Not the child, but Jake. The man that was ever-present in your mind– with his beautiful, brunette hair, eyes the color of understanding, easing you in the most complex situations. . . and the heart that’d made the world suddenly make sense. . . (Which still scared the hell out of you, by the way.)

But. . .as the thoughts spiraled, it all started to have the opposite effect. Made you want to agree.

So, you did.

You said yes to hanging out with Theo. Because, as soon as that thought process had started derailing, you knew it was best to agree. The idea of hanging out with him seemed like a great distraction from Jake. A much needed one.

What you had with Jake was nothing and it was in the past. For a reason. 

After you watched him smile wide and say he’d text you, he went to join a heap of Pratt’s fraternity boys. You could only hope that maybe getting out there and hanging out with someone else would get your mind off of Jake. 

You did not want it going further than a few dates with Theo. Just a little time with Theo would surely be all it took to get your headspace cleared and make it easier to navigate life. 

The repercussions to its ending were literally nothing. You’d switch seats in class and force yourself through school with the occasional encouragement from Elsie. Theo was not a necessary addition to your life long-term, but you figured he could help you short-term, while also creating long lasting benefits.

Surely you could divert your thoughts from Jake. Think of the child first, and put its father on the backburner as you weaved through this next chapter in your life. . . No matter how badly you wanted him with you through all of it, experiencing it all first hand with you, it was the wiser decision to keep things separate. 

And, as an additional help, Theo would make it obvious to Jake that you were willing to keep your life separate. 

So, when you did eventually tell Jake (dear fucking God), there would be an additional party that emphasized you’d moved on and all that mattered now was the baby. 

Not the two of you. That ship needed to sail. 

Even though the thought made your stomach hurt like hell and tears well in your eyes as you pulled into the nearest Trader Joe’s for pickles. . . you knew it was the truth.

-🌼🌼🌼-

That evening, you took a longer route to work, choosing to listen to a podcast you’d found. 

Having listened to the first episode on the way to school that morning, you decided to fill your cup with another episode on the way to work. 

It was a magnificent podcast that was all about the ‘ins and outs’ of pregnancy, being a new mother, and how to grow mentally and emotionally during such a unique time.

The second episode was going just as well as the first until you heard one of the moderators’ voices get low and forlorn. 

“You know ladies. . . the first time I got pregnant is planted firmer in my memory than any of my other pregnancies,” she said, sighing heavily. 

“Oh, yeah, Jen,” another moderator said, voice growing dim with Jen’s, apparently (you were still getting accustomed to their names). “I bet, babe. . . The ones that are lost are the ones that stick so close it fuckin’ hurts and heals at the same time. . .”

“Agreed, Tally,” the third—and last—speaker on the podcast chimed in. “I’ll touch on my story after Jen.” 

“Thanks, Molly,” Jen’s voice rang through your speakers again. “Yeah, it’s just a different feeling when they’re there and then suddenly they’re not. . . When you imagine holding them in your arms for God knows how long and then it suddenly becomes impossible to do so,” Jen sniffed, and just as she did, you felt a tear hit your own cheek. God, you were hurting with her. “Every woman is different, but I just hang onto my loss like nothing else. And not necessarily in a bad way— just in an attempt to sort of keep the baby here with me— Give her the life she never got to fully live.”

Dammit, the tears wouldn’t let up. They were trailing down your cheeks steadily. When you got to the next stop light, you had to grab a napkin from your glovebox to blot at your cheeks, already marked with black streaks of mascara. Thankfully you could still wipe them up easily, not dried to your skin quite yet. But you knew the crying wouldn’t be letting up soon. Your emotions had been triggered and you would be seeing this sadness through. (Hello, pregnancy hormones.) 

You took turns holding the napkin under each eye, making sure to catch the tears as they continued. 

“I’m right there with you, Jenny,” a voice you now recognized as Molly’s said. “Even though my stories are a little different.”

Stories? 

God. You kept your eyes on the road as you popped open the glovebox once more, grabbing a fistful of left-over restaurant napkins. 

Sitting them on top of your legging-clad thighs, right where you could reach them, you took a right turn towards the B&G. 

“I’m sure we have listeners who will relate to all of these stories,” Tally interjected, sniffing. “Both of you girls.”

“I hope we’re able to help someone,” Jen responded, voice still thick, but not so bad as before. 

You heard a sigh before Molly started speaking again. “The first time I carried was very similar to Jenny’s. Lost the baby. Early on. The worst loss I’ve ever experienced—I will never understand why we lose them,” her voice shook with sadness. But, it soon transitioned to a hot flash of irate frustration when she spoke next. “I will also never understand the people who invalidate our experiences just because they were lost in the womb or lost as little tiny babies. . . Just because they weren’t full grown people, outside of the womb, when it happened. . . doesn’t make it hurt any less. You have just as much to mourn for the life they completely lost.” And just as soon as she was firm, her voice was soft again. “The life we lost before it was time.”

The other two agreed, voices low out of respect for the moment. 

“Then there was my second. . .,” she blew out a breath, as if preparing. She gave a half-laugh. “Strange occurrence. . .”

“But it happens!” One of the other two chimed in. 

“Sure as hell does,” Molly said. “The second time I carried, I had a hysterical pregnancy– a case that only 6 women in 22,000 experience. . .”

“I can’t imagine. . .,” Tally breathed a sigh out. “Your body, tricking you like that.”

“Yeah, and it felt completely real– like everything you’d expect,” she replied, thoughtful. “Like everything I experienced with the one I’d lost before. . . And, God, it was so incredibly hard to get through once I found out what my body had done to me. . . I just wanted a healthy baby–especially after the loss. I was still hurting badly from losing the first when it happened. Almost like my body was playing tricks on me just to see how far I could stretch mentally and emotionally,” she laughed under her breath, in spite of it all. 

“So fucking cruel, babe. . .”

But you weren’t focusing hard enough to know who was talking anymore. You’d caught on to the stories they’d told and now you were over analyzing your situation. . . Questioning everything. . . Was this real? Was there a baby there? Were you having a hysterical pregnancy? Was your body playing tricks on you? 

Or, had you been pregnant, and had now lost the baby like those women had? Were you still carrying the life you’d started planning around? The little life you were becoming more and more attached to by the day?

Had you ever been carrying it? 

As you pulled into work, you put one shaking hand on your rounded lower belly.

- 🌼🌼🌼-

Suffice to say, your entire evening shift was spent in over-contemplation and searching miscarriages, hysterical pregnancies, and semi-local OBGYN’s during the lull of customers. 

As you’d searched online for a clinic, you were not looking for places too close, as you didn’t want God and everybody seeing you enter the clinic on a regular basis (if you, in fact, were to find out you were carrying a tiny little bean-baby). You sure as hell didn’t need anyone to start questioning you before you were ready to offer up answers. 

Once you finally left your longest shift ever, you drove home in deep thought and drowning silence. 

Your research over miscarriages and hysterical pregnancies had done you very little good. They’d actually done you no good at all, if you were being honest. Everything you’d read made you question a lot.

Because, everything that could possibly reassure you was also possible in a hysterical pregnancy or a miscarriage.

One: your growing tummy (which could continue growing in both of the sad, unwanted instances). Two: your hurting breasts (which could still hurt in both sad, unwanted instances). And three: your nausea (which could still occur in both sad, unwanted instances).

Once at home, you took a hot second getting ready for bed— lost in thought, you decided to try to tiring yourself with a bath, complete with lavender scented bath salts and bubbles. Once you were finally in bed, cozy in your softest pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt, you tried so hard to force yourself to sleep. You didn’t want to have to wait any longer to call the nice little clinic you’d found. 

And you sure as hell weren’t hungry. Didn’t want to eat with your stomach spinning with so many nerves.

And, the sooner you fell asleep, the sooner you could call the clinic and schedule an appointment. 

- 🌼🌼🌼-

But, after laying there for what felt like hours– the sounds of calming ocean waves playing through your phone and everything– you were still awake. 

You were drowning in all of the thoughts. Drown-ing. 

One that was flashing brightly at the front of your mind was why you even cared so much. And, the more you thought about it, tossing and turning, you realized you’d found the most unique, fulfilling form of reassurance in carrying the child. You wanted this baby. It had happened without you even meaning it to. . . but you wanted this baby so. fucking. badly. You’d tried damn hard not to want the little thing, but now that you’d spent so much time pondering it and holding your tummy? There was no question about any of it. You just wanted your baby and you couldn’t figure out how to explain it.

After rolling around far too much in bed, you realized you still hadn’t heard the telling sounds of Jake coming home. So, you decided to venture out into the living room to let a TV show distract you. Hopefully distract you enough to go to sleep. Pillow, Stanley, and phone in hand, you grabbed the fluffiest blanket from your blanket basket and nestled into your couch. 

Just as you’d turned the TV to Friends–wanting to feel closer to Elsie, but not feeling brave enough to talk to her whilst already being so emotional–, you heard the sound of a key jingling in the locked doorknob. And then the door was opening and you were looking behind you at the sound— for God knows what reason.

Then he was all you saw.

Jake.

Clad in the most handsome black, felt peacoat, the top of his head hidden by a black beanie. . . the chilly evening’s attire suited him so well that it brought a ridiculous tear to your eye. 

So devastatingly handsome and not at all mine, your thoughts became enveloped with storm clouds.

Thankfully he didn’t see you staring, as he seemed to be trying to avoid eye contact as he went about setting his keys in the bowl and taking his coat off to hang it on the rack by the door. And, as his actions cemented your thoughts, your eyes became wetter, a tear falling down your cheek for this stupid ass, cruel reality that you’d created. Even if you had done it for a good reason—and you had—it still sucked big ass. 

But, just as soon as your eyes were growing teary, your heart was beating erratically in your chest. The sight of the soft, tanned skin between the opened lapels of his shirt— exposed after taking off the coat. And the silver necklaces that clanged against his bare chest were the same he’d worn for Halloween. . . Your mouth watered as you observed the way they fell between his pecs which rose and fell with balanced breaths. . . 

Seriously, fuck these hormones.

Before you could get lost in the roundness of his ass through his jeans, he turned to the counter once more. You flipped back to your original spot on the couch. You decided to 

feign any knowledge of him being home, curling into a little ball on the couch and closing your eyes to fake sleep. 

When you heard him make a stop at his bedroom and then heard the bathroom door click shut, you stayed wrapped in your cocoon on the couch. And before too long, you felt yourself fading to black, one final tear slipping past your closed lids as Rachel and Ross argued over being on a break.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Initially, you weren’t sure what it was that brought you back from such a deep slumber. But, once you heard him, you knew. The deep, raspy laugh that was slightly muffled through you gaining consciousness. 

Why was he in the living room? Was he? Was this your imagination? A taunting dream?

You cracked an eye open the slightest bit to allow some adjustment to the light you’d shut your eyes to. But. . . There was no overhead light. It was off. The room would’ve been pitch black, save for your standing lamp’s yellow glow and the blue light from your TV. 

More importantly, the warning feeling of a crick in your neck was suddenly catching your attention. So, without worrying about your company, you quickly sat up to attempt getting more comfortable. You didn’t want to feel awkward around him, but you also didn’t want to deal with a hitch in your neck or a migraine in the morning. 

The loud yawn that escaped you once you’d sat up couldn’t be helped. You were slightly embarrassed at the obnoxiously loud noise that emitted from your mouth as you stretched. Blushing, you glanced over at your fellow living room occupant to see if he’d even noticed. 

And, of course, he had. 

He was staring at you—but. . . not judgmentally. Not at all. In fact, his eyes held the natural, reassuring lightness that occupied your sweetest recent memories. And the small grin on his face. . . was shocking, to say the least. 

Why was he acting so okay with you? He’d been so distant recently. . .

You knit your eyebrows together, hyper aware of his presence and needing answers as to why he had decided to sit next to you. 

“What are you doing here?” You clipped, tone sharp. You brought your blanket all the way up to your chin and around your shoulders, as a way to protect yourself from the (obviously) harmless man. 

Although, you instantly regretted it as his expression became apprehensive rather than open like seconds before. 

Why do you have to go and ruin everything, y/n? 

He leaned back, his eyebrows furrowed as he balanced a bowl of (. . . macaroni and cheese? Fuck, that looked good.) on his knee, holding onto it with one hand. “I live here, y/n.”

And yet another memory was flashing back to you from the night you got high. . . his breath, hot on your neck, your skin erupting in goosebumps as he said similar words then– your skin flaming now, too. Just the sound of his voice could elicit the most from you. Fuck your pregnant feelings.

Or were they just feelings? The fear came rushing back the moment you thought yourself pregnant. . . was there a baby in there? God, fuck. . . you really didn’t want to sit in this train of thought again. 

You figured you might as well use your company to distract you. . . .You missed talking to him anyways–missed it so damn bad. 

But your tummy interrupted you. The growl that emitted from it was fucking humiliating, honestly, but it had happened. And after eyeing you curiously for a minute, Jake’s lips turned up with a one breathy laugh, his beautiful pearly whites on full display. God, he was handsome.

“You hungry?” He questioned, lifting his mac and cheese. “I made more of this. It’s just the shit Kraft, but it still hits the spot.”

Nodding, you went to hesitantly get up to get some. You really didn’t want to move from under the security of your warm, cozy blanket. 

“No, just wait here,” he insisted, standing. His pajama pants were your favorites (the ones he didn’t normally wear underwear with). But you did not watch his crotch for movement. Your eyes were just staring at the wrong place at the wrong time. Really. “I have to wash my bowl anyway. I’ll put the rest in a bowl for you while I’m up.” 

Again, why was he being so fucking nice? But you weren’t about to disagree. You were comfy and hungry and he was offering. It felt like old times and you felt like being momentarily delusional.

“Okay,” you quietly agreed, your eyes shifted, unsure to his face. But he was moving before you could look at him. Back to the kitchen. After a few moments, he was back, handing you a little white bowl with a spoon. The scrumptious, cheesy noodles made your eyes light up. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, responding as though elsewhere. This was weird and you hated how it all felt. But he kept talking, filling the air as he sat a beer on the end table beside him, before sitting back down in the chair. “I had to get a beer anyway. Long day with the guys and May–,” he cleared his throat, his eyes shutting briefly as he shook his head.

Fuck. Thanks, Jake, you thought, your eyes on the verge of welling with tears. The moments of silence, hanging in the air, closing in around you. Not fucking now, hormones.

All you wanted to do was ask why it had been a long day. Get more information that might hurt you. Why did you do that to yourself? 

Though, before you could say anything, he continued. Awkwardly, his eyes flashing momentarily to the TV to reset as he spoke. “Long day. I should’ve asked if you wanted one.”

Your cheeks heated. . . little did he know. “I’m good,” you mumbled, looking down at your bowl. Stomach sinking with your thoughts from earlier, you decided to eat before you lost your appetite again. Not the time to be sad. “Thanks though.”

The next few minutes went by in a silence you wanted to stab with a fucking knife. It was seriously unpleasant and sucked ass. After you both laughed at a certain thing Joey said, you figured you might as well try to keep some sort of conversation going. Because, god, you missed him. 

“I meant in here, by the way,” you motioned with your head to the space around you, mouth full. (Ladylike.) 

His brow raised as he looked from the screen to you, setting his gaze on you. “What are you–?”

“My question. Why you were here,” you embarrassingly restated, hearing how it must’ve sounded. “In the living room. With me. Why you were in here, in the living room, with me, of all places.”

He sat further back, but this time going to sit in the armchair comfortably. His feet propped up on the ottoman across from him. “Well,” he covered his mouth, coughing briefly into his fist. “To be fair– you were sleeping when I came to sit down in here.” 

Rather than being unnecessarily hurt over him only wanting to be in the same room as a sleeping version of you, you let yourself give in to the temptation and take advantage of him being distracted by his next task. You missed everything about him. . . even such a simple thing as watching him move.

Pathetic. And, because your mind hated you, it felt like you were watching him move in slow motion.

You watched in a daze as he leaned over to the tall lamp’s attached table, his self-cut gray t-shirt rising up at his hips to show his firm abdomen flex with the stretch. It shouldn’t be so fucking hot to watch someone reach for a fucking beer bottle. But, the sight that greeted you next was worse than seeing his side peeking from his shirt. What you saw next were his full, pink lips, wrapping just right around the glass top of his beer bottle as he took a generous sip of his Miller Lite. You admired, mouth open as his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat with each gulp of the beer. 

But when he went to repeat his action of leaning over the chair to set the bottle back, you decided to look away so as to save yourself from the torture (or, from the possibility of being caught). You took a bite of the mac and cheese, growing cold in your bowl.

Your heart was already hammering much too erratically from glimpsing these ridiculously mundane motions. . . fuck it all. The heat from being so near to him and watching him settled from your head all the way to the pit of your tummy. You swallowed down your bite thickly.

Your tummy.

“Yeah,” you muttered, awkwardly – you just wanted to have a conversation to get your mind off things. Problem was, you didn’t know where to necessarily start with him these days. . . Work? The band? Maya? God, no. . . gag.

Lucky for you, he took the initiative before you had much longer to overthink it. “I’m glad you woke up, though.” He pulled at his plaid pajama bottoms as he scooted up again, going back to get comfortable on the ottoman. Sitting with his legs spread (dammit), he balanced his elbows on his knees as he reached for his phone in his pocket. “I actually wanted to run something past you.”

God, please don’t say you found a place and you’re moving out. . . you thought, suddenly downcast and dreading what he was about to say. Or that you’re moving out to live with her.

You swallowed the thickness in your throat, trying to alleviate the unwarranted nerves before responding. Dispelling them with food, you took one more bite before swallowing it to talk. “And what’s that?” 

So what if he wanted to move out? He damn well could. He surely had the money and you two weren’t involved. 

He scrolled for a few more moments, your heart thump-thump-thumping without relenting. . . And finally, he found what he was looking for and before you had time to prepare, his eyes were sinking into yours earnestly. 

God. . . what is he about to sa–?

“I found a place for you to get therapy,” he stated, tone soft and careful. 

Therapy? Safe to say you were not expecting those words. 

And rather than being nervous, your emotions shifted to defensiveness. Where did he get off looking into that for you? Why was he . . .? Was he talking about the promise he’d made in his bed? That same night you’d panicked at your grandparents’? He’d remembered to do that? Why did he even care, still? You didn’t deserve for him to care– didn’t want him to care. It felt uncomfortable. 

“Why?” You sharply asked, holding your bowl in stiff hands on your lap. 

He leveled you with a look that said ‘cut it out.’ Did he really know where your thoughts were trailing? Was he still that in tune with you? Surely not. He was probably just irritated with your tone of voice. “I told you I would look for you, so I’ve been keeping up my end of the deal. I’ve actually asked a few clients if they knew of any nearby therapists worth their salt,” he peeked back at his phone, scrolling on it when he spoke next. “And there are actually quite a few good ones in the area.”

Your heart still beat harshly in your chest as you felt your skin heat with rage. You set your bowl down on the coffee table. And, the blanket, suddenly suffocating you, was flung off without a thought. “So, what is this? Is this you saying I’m a fucking loony, Jake? I’m sure you’ve been desperate as fucking hell to get me help because you think I’m such a nutcase,” you spit. You sounded dramatic (and, admittedly, like a deranged woman). You knew that. If you were thinking sensibly, you’d know he didn’t believe those things. . . but you were embarrassed that he’d been thinking so hard about this. It hurt your feelings that he thought you needed help that badly. “I’m just so broken and damaged and insane that you’ve decided you need to get a damn shrink to fix me.” Your lap was a sudden magnet for your eyes, your hands entangled on your pajama bottoms. Now, the hot teardrop that hit your interlocked hands was not expected and you swiftly swiped at your cheek. “Thanks for thinking so long and hard and asking God and everybody to find the most qualified person to psychoanalyze the shit out of me,” you sniffled, a couple more tears falling before you willed them away and looked in his eyes. “Thank you so much, Jake.”

But he wasn’t flustered. . . no, he actually sat there and took it. The brow that had raised on his face as you spoke was the only indicator that he’d heard you. 

The emotions you were experiencing were big and uncalled for. . . but, you were stressed. Over a lot of things. Doubting a lot of things. Your life seemed like one humongous question mark and you were sleepy as fuck and it was all just catching the fuck up with you. 

He cleared his throat, glancing once more at his phone before setting it on the arm of the chair. A tiny smirk ghosted briefly over his lips before they were set in a flat line again as he spoke next. His eyes stayed trained on his own hands, now clasped as well. “Y/n. . . Please. You know I don’t fuckin’ think those things,” he tried quietly, slightly testy, but not harsh. Then his irises found yours once more, making your heart rate speed up. You did know that. . . You knew better. He was right. “You agreed to this. I wouldn’t have made a point to look into this if you hadn’t okayed it,” he stretched his hands out and then combed them through his long, chestnut locks. 

His jaw flexed and he eyed you once more, digging into the heart of this before going any deeper. “I don’t want to force it on you. I won’t go any further in this conversation if you don’t want it. This is your decision. You know I looked into therapists. That’s it. You choose where you want this to go and then I’ll either leave you alone or tell you what I found out.”

You felt bit by bit of your current guard break down as you slowly relented. Because, well, you did want to know what he’d found out. Absentmindedly, you glanced down at where you’d subconsciously placed your hands over your stomach. It was habit at this point. That one reason underneath your fingertips was pushing you to know what he’d come to know. If you were, in fact, with child, you were desperate to start therapy. Yeah, sure, you wanted to get help for your sake. . . but more-so the child’s sake. Because, honestly, if you were not with child, you weren’t really sure if you’d want to push yourself to do that– go through all of those intense measures and changes and emotions that you knew only therapy could bring.

There was a ginormous sneaking, sinking suspicion in your gut. The one that was telling you there was a helluva lot more simmering, boiling beneath the surface than you knew. There had to be. For all the blaming you’d put on Jake just now, you knew you were a basket case. And there were some good fucking reasons behind it that you had to get to the bottom of. 

You had to do it for your child. And, on the off chance that your worst fears would come to light and you weren’t actually pregnant, it wouldn’t hurt to at least hear Jake out. Listen to what he’d found. 

You mumbled your next words. “Do you think I need fixing?” Dear God–where had that vulnerability come from? Did you want to know his answer?

Jake brought a thumb and forefinger up to his chin as he scratched it in contemplation, still measuring you with a long look. “I think it’s more complex than that, y/n,” he breathed a sigh out, as if not sure how to say what he was actually thinking. 

And dammit– it hurt for him to not just respond with a simple “no, I don’t think you need fixing.” More complex? What the hell did that even mean? 

“Do you think I’m brok–?”

“No,” he sighed. Then, he had your heart leaping into your throat when, in one swift motion, he was standing and walking the ottoman closer to where you sat on the couch. When he plopped down, he didn’t touch you. . . but the closer proximity was enough. The way your eyes naturally flitted momentarily to where his chest steadily rose and fell. You breathed with him. He spoke his next words with a low rasp, eyes serious as they pored into yours. “You are not broken.”

Your heart fluttered, making its way back to its home in your chest. “Okay,” you muttered. You needed to hear him say that– more than you’d ever be comfortable admitting. Finally, you responded to his prior offer. You knew what you wanted. “Tell me what you found out.”

Jake watched you for a few more seconds before leaning back a little, reaching back to grab his phone from the arm of the chair he’d been sitting in. You averted your sight to your hands this time, not watching his movements. Your hands, which were still nestled nonchalantly on your tummy. 

“So,” he started. Your gaze flickered up to him, a lazy smile fitting to your face. You watched his lips move as he spoke. Honestly, you hated how safe he felt. It wrapped you up cozier than the blanket that’d been around you moments ago. And the sad reality: you couldn’t wrap yourself up in him. You’d have to take what you could get. “I found this place. About 30 minutes from us. It’s a bit of a lengthy drive, but I figured it was worth it. It’s a clinic that’s very well known by many people around here, I’ve found out.”

“Expensive?” 

“Eh. Yeah. Pricier than others,” he clicked his tongue, raised his brow. “But– I asked Josh offhandedly the other day what the insurance was like at the B&G to figure out if it was covered by your–.”

“What do you mean offhandedly?” You nudged, hoping he hadn’t divulged that it was about you. “You didn’t tell him–?”

“No. I just asked him as if I was comparing it to mine at the agency that I teach lessons through,” he reassured. You breathed in relief. He snickered. “I wouldn’t tell him anything about. . .,” he cleared his throat, his eyes shifting from your face to the wall behind your head and then to his phone again. “Anyways. . . they’re covered by your insurance.”

At the end of the day, it didn’t really matter if Josh found out. . . he was about to have a massive bomb dropped on him (by you, of course). But. . . you still didn’t really want him finding anything out from Jake. Didn’t want him hearing anything before you were ready. 

“Cool,” you grinned, trying to ease the tension. He opened his mouth to continue, but you stopped him before he could. “Thank you, by the way. For looking into this.”

He looked surprised and you hated that he seemed that way. You should have been more appreciative to begin with. . . this was such a selfless thing for him to do and you’d reacted by getting defensive and snapping. When that was the last thing he deserved. God, you were awful sometimes. 

He smiled, wide and close-lipped. “Of course. I told you I would.”

You nodded, looking back to your hands, which you’d let move to your lap. Didn’t want him catching on to you holding your stomach. “What’s the next step?”

“Well,” he began, hesitantly. “I called them for a quote and asked about a specific therapist.”

“Why specific?” You questioned, scrunching your brows. 

“That leads into the next part, actually. . .,” he slowly continued, “She’s the only one at their practice that specializes in this unique form of therapy. A type I’ve read and researched on a fuck ton. . . I wanted to find the perfect method for your specific traumatic effects. So, I thought of the dreams. . . how you like control. . . I think it’s the type of therapy you could benefit most from.”

Damn. Way to call you out on your need for control. If anyone knew how much you desired control, though, you figured he did. But. . .now you were even more curious. . . because. . . you were venturing into different types? Wouldn’t just be sitting down with a shrink? What did he have in mind?

“And this type is. . .?”

His eyes light up, excitedly, as if he’s been dying to get to this part. “It’s called EMDR,” he voiced with a tinge of apprehension and elated anticipation. As you mouthed the letters under your breath, he clarified further. “Eye, E. Movement, M. Desensitization, D. And Reprocessing, R.”

You blinked a few times and shook your head. “Okay,” you stated slowly, placing your hands in front of you to indicate he needed to slow down. “What the fuck does all of that mean though?”

“Before I continue, I need you to know: I’ve done a shit ton of research and out of all of it, I’ve become really invested and interested in this type of therapy specifically. . . and for good reason. I’m really hopeful that it will help you,” he emphasized, eyes sincere. 

Your tummy did somersaults at how invested he’d become in all of this . . . but your mind stuttered momentarily at the flutter. You couldn’t help but get lost in the thought of a little bean in there and how you hoped to feel little kicks someday (obviously not yet, Jesus Christ), not just Jake-induced butterflies. God, you hoped there was a little thing in there. . . 

Jake’s steady, soft voice brought you back to the present and to his face that peered down at his phone, reading carefully. “To put it simply: it’s like a form of hypnosis. A way to force you to remember certain things so you can finally move on and heal from them.”

You blanched at that. “I’m going to be hypnotized?” To say you were second guessing this was a massive understatement. This EMDR shit could take a back seat. You were already apprehensive about getting help–even with the traditional approach. “I’m not down for hyp-fucking-nosis. Hell no. And all for the sake of remembering things I don’t really care to remember in the first place? I don’t think so, Jake,” you shook your head, toying with a loose thread at the bottom of your t-shirt. “I’m already taking a hugeass leap by being willing to go to therapy itself. I don’t need the voodoo shit . . . I’ll settle for the traditional approach,” you paused, not wanting to get too far ahead before showing your thanks. “But. . . thank you for–.”

“No, no. Listen,” he said, laying one hand on your knee for a blip of a second, your mind short-circuited at the touch. He damn sure had your attention now. “It’s different. Yes, you’ll remember things. But . . . well. . . Shit, I don’t know how to explain it in my own words. 

“Well, just send me a link and I’ll give it a read and we’ll settle–.”

“Quit,” he sternly said. “Quit saying that you’re going to settle. I don’t want you to settle. I want you to get to the root of this. . . so you can heal. Please. Hear me out,” he pleaded, the hand going back to rest on your knee for a few moments longer than last time before he removed it again. “It's–it’s more than remembering. It’s like— like your mind takes you back to the memory. You’re there all over again, living it a second time.”

“Yeah,” you went to stand up, but he moved with you, showing you he would follow you. So, you stayed put. Dear God, Jacob. “I don’t want to live the shit for a second time. Why the hell would I want to do that?“

“Do you want to fucking heal?” He snapped, his eyes searching yours for any sort of bullshit.

You blinked, “Damn,” you began, a sarcastic, irritated smirk on your face when you shook your head. Could he give you a break, maybe? Shit. But, still, you answered him. And his impatient, waiting eyes. Your answer was a no-brainer for you at this point. “Yes, Jake. I want to fucking heal.”

His jaw flexed as he let out a deep breath, through his nose, pinching the bridge of it. “So, please, y/n. . . just listen to me. Hear me out. You don’t have to do it. I just want you to let me explain it first,” he begged, eyes trained on yours, following every flicker of them. The unsureness you communicated through your gaze was balanced by the overwhelming sureness in his. You nodded for him to continue. He reciprocated the action, continuing with a deep breath in and and a deep breath out. “EMDR allows you to heal by letting you be in charge of your healing. You have the power to leave the situation this time. You’re in control of it now. It’s the past. But you have to face it. . . That’s part of it. . . The cool thing is, though. . . you can control whether you stay or leave a memory; you control how you move on from it.”

Well, goddammit. . . Of course he’d know just what to say to get you to finally listen to him. 

Control. That single word finally flicked the lightbulb on in your stubborn, jaded head. 

You paused heavily in your opposition, taking note of his far too sincere features. Perhaps he truly was just trying to help you, a sentiment that had always felt utterly foreign to you throughout your life. You’d held all of your guards up so high for so indescribably long. It took a lot for you to dare let anyone in aside from your sister (who, if you had to be honest, simply didn’t have a choice being your own flesh and blood. . .And given the fact that she lived it, too). 

But the harsh reality of the matter was, you had let Jake in. Too much. If it weren’t for the seriousness of the moment, you could’ve smirked at the irony of just how much– the possible little life in your tummy, a constant reminder in recent times. And, well, you’d definitely let him in enough that he knew you came with some serious trauma.

You watched him carefully, suddenly beginning to realize that the only reason you’d felt so reluctant to heed his guidance with this bizarre form of therapy. The reason you always doubted him– you couldn’t fathom the fact that he truly wanted to help you. 

But, time and again he seemed to prove you wrong. Even after you’d bitched him out to kingdom come in the kitchen months ago. There was no reason for him to want to help you. But here he was. With his research, his beautiful and honest eyes, the phone that he gripped with purpose with explanation after explanation, as if a lifeline. . .

He cared. Whether you could accept it or not. . .it didn’t change the fact that he actually cared. 

“I’ll go talk to the therapist,” you finally offered, relenting as much as you could at that moment. “I’ll feel it all out after I talk to her about it. . .,” you leveled, feeling fair in that decision. 

And he didn’t question, just shook his head with a lip stuck out. “Yeah, yeah. Totally.”

“How do I schedule the appointment?”

-🌼🌼🌼-

The next day was spent making strides towards your future. You scheduled the OBGYN appointment as soon as the clinic opened— being as that was the first, major priority. Setting that up had been simple. A date and time. The insurance you’d be using. Then, you’d hung up.

But, as soon as you’d set that up (and felt utter relief at having that panned out), you called the counseling practice Jake had told you about. And, you set up a therapy session with the woman Jake had given you the name of for the day before your first OB appointment. . . 

The counseling appointment was set up for the upcoming Monday. . . For some reason, when you’d been on the phone, scheduling for the nearest date available had seemed like the only logical option. But, it hadn’t been as cut and dry as your scheduling for the doctor’s appointment. There’d been a form. They’d informed you that they would email it for you to fill out with some general information (and a picture) before your first appointment. It was slightly daunting, but not totally unexpected, the more you’d thought about it. It was an understandably reasonable precursor to your first session. Just a few minor things to assist in your therapist knowing the most basic things about you before beginning. 

Doing it before the OB appointment had also seemed like a good idea. Talking to someone about the newfound worries to help you wade through the days to seeing the obstetrician. . . It seemed like a good plan of action. Made you feel more peace for the whole situation, honestly. 

So, that Friday, as you settled into your seat for a stupid ass writing course, you didn’t even care as you felt like other things were on the move. Honestly, at this point, you wanted to say fuck school and your distaste for the major you’d chosen. . . As they didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of it all. Bigger things were about to start happening. 

And you could only hope that what awaited you would be positive. . . Positive bigger things ahead. 

Bigger things that looked like real healing and a baby with Jake’s eyes.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The couch was leather and a little cold, even through your leggings. . . and the small office-room smelled like essential oils. It was reminiscent of a spa without the ambience music. 

The place didn’t need the music, though. . . the oils and general atmosphere were the perfect, calming mixture. . . Well thought out combination of smells and colors to ease the mind. 

But no therapist. Not yet. You’d been led by the secretary into a room where you now sat by yourself. She’d offered tea, coffee, and water, with a large, welcoming smile on her freckled face. You couldn’t refuse the offer, so you’d accepted the option of water. 

It had been in a bottle, and you clutched it tightly, opened only for the tiniest sip as you let your body relax as much as it could, leaning the slightest bit back into the couch. 

And you continued to wait. 

You watched the closed wooden door, your eyes wandering every now and then to the artwork that depicted gardens and fresh flowers. . . Some were beautiful paintings, while others were simple little drawings, or even real flowers, pressed in a glass frame. 

The walls were tinged with a light sage—the color, oddly easing to the mind. 

Then the knob was twisting open, matching the feeling of your nervous tummy. The muscles at the pit of your stomach flexed and flinched at the prospect of the therapist. What was she going to be like? Would she match the cool, relaxing environment of her office? You could only fucking hope. . .

Looking down at your hands to avoid any awkward eye contact, you took note of how badly you needed a manicure. . . damn. 

“Y/n?” A reposeful, gentle voice interrupted your nail critique. You looked up to acknowledge your long-awaited company. . . and man, was she completely different from your last therapist. The first thing you noticed was that she was. . . young. Mid-thirties at the very oldest. She was much younger than your aging counselor from the past. How long had she been doing this? “I’m Gianna. But all of my clients and closest friends call me Gia.”

“Gia,” you tried it out, letting a small smile fit to your face. It was a genuine smile– you were relieved. Without even really knowing her, you already felt so at ease with her. She was one of those people–like Elsie or Josh–who just carried a naturally empathetic, calming air. Made you feel like you were standing in the breeze on a warm spring day. “Nice to meet you.”

Her hair, naturally dark, but dyed beautifully to be a blonde-gray, was up in a styled messy bun. Lips, painted in the most beautiful naturally red tint. . . and the round, wire-framed glasses that sat on the bridge of her nose complimented her soft features so incredibly well. The freckles on her pale face, visible through the circular frames. Her cheeks were tinged with a perfectly rosy blush, and they swelled with your greeting. 

She adjusted her loose, beige overalls over her off-white, long-sleeved mock neck. The overalls were the fabric ones that’d gone viral (which helped you to note how incredibly trendy she was, if you hadn’t already been able to guess that). She inhaled and exhaled easily, her lips quirking even more than before. “It’s nice to meet you, y/n,” she repeated back to you. “I’m sorry it took me a bit to make my entrance. I like to give my people some time to adjust to the space before they’re bombarded with all of the therapy stuff. It’s an important thing to me.” Then her leg was being bent to balance her white, platform converse on the seat of her pale pink rolling chair. “Before we begin. . . I also need you to know that my office has a completely open door policy. If, at any moment, you start feeling uncomfortable, please let me know and you may leave to take a break, or simply leave the practice to adjust your thoughts before the next session. Won’t charge you for the whole time or anything. . .,” she added the last part, surely as another financially conscientious adult. “I just know that sometimes this shit gets tough–baring all of it and having to get through it. . . it’s rarely easy, and I want to be able to foster a healthy, resting environment for you as you wade through all of it.”

“Wow,” you blinked, your heart warm in your chest as you let yourself sink a little further into the couch, shoulders loosening just a bit. “That’s amazing. Thank you.”

Winking, she brought the mug up to her lips that she’d carried in with her. After taking a sip, she sat it on her desk and then wrapped both arms around her bent leg. “Is there anything you’d like to know about me and my profession before we begin?”

You pondered that, always having questions swirling in your head. “Just general things,” you snorted, playing it off. “Stupid, basic shit that I don’t need answered.”

“Nothing is stupid in here, sweets,” she said firmly, her eyes communicating more than the words she’d said. “Sometimes misguided and confused, yes, but never stupid.” She used the foot on the ground to swing the chair from side to side, ever-so-slightly. “Sooo, shoot. Ask anything you’d like–basic or not.”

Blinking at her again, you let your grip on your water bottle ease up. “Oh, um,” you quietly began. You scrambled for the right words. “Well, I guess I was wondering how long you’ve been doing this?”

She giggled. “Oh, sure. . . I’ve been practicing for about five years. Administered EMDR for the past two or so. . .” Her cheeks were still rosy with a gentle smile when she spoke next. “I will ask, though. . . did you not check out the website prior to this?”

Fuck. You hadn’t thought to do that. That was strange. . . usually you’d jump at the chance of looking into anything and everything before diving head first into something. Especially something as serious as a life-changing thing like therapy and the person you’d be inevitably baring your soul to. What in the fuck? Why hadn’t you thought to do that?

“I– um,” you searched her eyes, as if they held your answer. “I didn’t. Which is strange for me.”

“It’s not a big deal, really,” she said, grabbing her mug from her desk again. But before taking a sip, she continued. “I just noted on your form that you like having control over the things that transpire in your life. And checking the website to do some solid research seems like just the way to do that.” She took a sip, humming as she took it away from her full lips. “But there’s my thoughts going to crazy places based primarily on black and white principles. And we’re definitely not here to do that,” she shook her body as if shaking it off, putting her leg down and nestling her mug between her hands. “I don’t look at shit in black and white. That’s something that, as your therapist, I need you to know. There’s a lot of healing properties found in the gray.”

You couldn’t explain it, but the last sentence left you feeling this overwhelming sense of hope and understanding. Without even knowing you, she seemed to get the fact that you came with a lot of fuckin’ gray. All kinds of shades of the color. Had you been that transparent on your form? Not able to remember it, you just pushed it to the side as you figured it didn’t really matter. Because even if you had been open on the form, you were about to get much more transparent.

“Thank you,” was all you said, the water bottle held in loose hands as you comfortably crossed your legs. “My life has left me pretty fucking gray, so that’s a relief.”

“There’s beauty in the gray, love,” she noted, leaning forward as if engaging even further in the conversation (as if she wasn’t already remarkably with-it). She held her tea steady in her hands, and you couldn’t help but look down at the mug to see what it looked like. And, of course, it was covered in pale flowers, just like her office. “I’m down for any more questions you may have.”

“Family?”

“Just a fiancé, but other than her, I’m pretty estranged from much more family. Boundaries are a specialty of mine, and I’ve had to set a few in my life,” she said, assured and confident. “No kids yet. We aren’t quite sure if we want them or not.”

You nodded. But, you were not able to hold back the wetness that gathered in your eyes. The tears settled at your ducts and if you blinked, you knew they’d fall. The way you were feeling at the moment was unexplainable. So many things at once. But, most importantly, you were thankful. Thankful for people like Gia. The woman exuded peace and you weren’t sure why you’d ever questioned trying therapy again when there were women like her in this profession. 

“Thank you,” you said again, as if you were a manufactured robot. Then you shook your head, embarrassed at your currently tiny vocabulary. “I’m sorry I keep saying that. I’m just grateful there’s people like you in this world.”

Wow. Okay. So we’re getting real honest and sentimental now, huh? A good-humored voice asked you. Here for it.

“That’s very sweet of you,” she said quietly, respecting the new emotions in the room. “Are you ready to tell me a bit about you?”

Letting the tears fall with a blink, you wiped at them with a breathy laugh. She grabbed the nearest tissue box and handed it to you. You wiped under your eyes and dabbed at your cheeks. “Chose to not wear makeup for a reason,” you chuckled, internally thanking past-you. She laughed with you, placing the Kleenex on the couch next to you for proper access, then sat back, balancing her elbows on her thighs as she held her face up with open palms. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” she said once you’d settled. “We’ve got the next hour and a half.”

“How much do you wanna know?” You huffed, rolling your eyes as you placed your locked hands over your tummy. “I’m a basket case.”

Her eyes sparkled. “As much as you’re willing to tell me,” she affirmed with a wink behind her glasses. “I’m all ears.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

So, as you left that day, you were absolutely confident in saying Gia knew about as much of your life as Elsie did. And that was saying something.

She’d just been so receptive, and had kept encouraging you– as you cried and laughed and sighed and growled. She kept reminding you that she wanted to ‘hear as much as you’d give her’. That she was ‘in your corner’ and that she was ‘there for you.’ And her words and kind eyes were enough to spur you on. Continue to the point of her knowing nearly everything there was to know about your life. 

From your childhood to now, Gia was now totally knowledgeable in the realm of Y/n. 

Thankfully, there’d been no EMDR, as she informed you that next session you’d begin talking about the intricacies of the practice and whether or not you wanted to begin with it the session after your next. She wanted to take time to adjust and ‘simply be’ before introducing the innovative method of therapy.

She’d given a couple of tidbits about it, just for you to think about before the next session, but not too much, since the next session was dedicated to her actually breaking it down for you. 

“Now, before you leave, I want you to know that we can locate your safe place next time. The place in your mind where you’ll return when you need a breath of fresh air amidst the memories,” she’d offered, hands in her pockets, tea cup abandoned as you stood up alongside her to follow her out of the office. But before you two left the office space, she took the time to assure you once more. “But only if that is what you decide you want. This is your life, sweets, and I’m just here to help you through it.”

And, for the eighty-millionth time that day, you’d told her ‘thank you.’ You were going to take a bit of time to consider it. 

She’d also given you a few nuggets of wisdom. 

They’d specifically followed the end of your session, when you’d broken down about the unsureness of your pregnancy (but easily applied to the rest of your messy ass life). 

One thing she said to do: “Slow down your thoughts. Do not let them take control. Slow them down and figure them out with what you know. Piece by piece, break them down before they get too astronomically crazy.”

Another being: “Let yourself feel peace. Just every once in a while, let yourself feel it and don’t let guilt eat you alive for it.” (When you’d laughed sarcastically, she’d nodded, agreeing that it was “most definitely easier said than done.”)

She had been wonderful at assuring you that it was most definitely a product of your trauma to react so preposterously. How you thought certain decisions and thoughts might give you peace, yet always resulted in the opposite. But, she’d also told you that you’d “figure it out bit by bit” as you move along and to “give yourself grace” as you navigate it all on your own, in your day-to-day life.

But, there was one singular, specific piece of advice she’d offered that was sticking out more than much else. 

Of course, you’d filled her in all the way up to your appointment tomorrow and Elsie’s idea for Josh to attend with you. You wanted her opinion on it, asking for as much, and she’d been firm in her opinion. Her words rang in your head as you navigated the late afternoon New York traffic on your way back home.

“Your sister is a genius,” she’d said astonishingly, blowing out a breath from between her naturally full lips. “Everything she said is exactly what I’d tell you, too, sweets. And if it helps to hear this, even as an outside party, Josh sounds like the type of person to receive it in a non-traumatizing manner. He will, most definitely, be sensitive to your feelings. And, having him there will help you feel less alone and calm in your worries. . . and it will help him feel needed–like Elsie said. So, truly, it’s a win-win. If I had my way, I’d make sure Josh is there tomorrow. But, again, it’s your life and it’s up to you.”

“How do I even ask, though?” You asked pathetically, pulling your sleeves down over your hands as you began to get nervous at the prospect. 

“Take a deep breath,” she calmly recited (as she’d done a time or two during your life lament). After doing it with you, she settled you with an understanding gaze. “Just text him. Tell him you have an important appointment tomorrow and that you need him there with you.”

“And if he asks what it’s for?”

“I’d say you tell him that you’ll tell him when you see him or when you get there,” she advised. “But, I don’t think he’s the type of person to question when you’re being vulnerable like that. I’d bet you he just agrees to it, no questions asked– if he’s free, that is,” she winked. 

So, with her sitting there, you’d texted him and asked exactly what she’d told you to. The thing about having an “important appointment.”

And even though he hadn’t responded, you tried to not overthink it as you calmed down from telling your entire life story to your therapist.

When you’d pulled into the apartment complex, your stomach sank at the sight that greeted you. Your space was awaiting you, but Jake’s, next to yours, was empty. Per usual these days, his new purchase of a used car was not at home at the same time as you. Really, you’d gotten used to his lack of presence. But it always made you sadder than you wanted to admit. Because, well, you knew if he wasn’t at the studio or some rehearsal, he was most likely with Maya (you were awfully glad he didn’t bring her around the apartment too much, but still. . .your mind went crazy at the other prospects of what they were doing). 

But today, it was worse. You were sad for more than your assumptions about his whereabouts. Today, you desperately wanted to tell him thank you– wanted to fill him in on how it had gone so great. But he wasn’t there. Because you’d pushed him away (something that Gia told you you’d ‘navigate the reasoning for’).

So, as you trudged up the steps, instead of walking in to tell Jake, you just took time to relax as much as you could. And you figured a good way to do that was to give yourself a long ‘everything shower,’ with your most favorite R&B playlist playing as background noise. 

And when you’d gotten out, the screen that you opened your phone to was something that brought a swarm of anxiously joyous butterflies. Under his name, there was a ‘Yes, of course!’ from Josh. And below his text, was a notification for your next appointment with Gia. One week from today. 

Everything would be okay. It would. You recited this as you responded to him, deciding to try your best not to think of telling him until you absolutely had to tomorrow, after hitting send with a simple ‘thank you :)’.

You kept reciting that everything would ‘be okay’ as you put a hand to the firm little bump, growing steadily at the bottom of your tummy. And you contemplated as much as you were willing to, without reducing yourself to any more tears (you’d cried enough already for one day). Because now all you were going to be plagued with for the next several hours until your OB appointment was whether there was actually a baby in your growing belly. 

You then ate a giant salad (everything else you wanted to eat had made you feel nauseous as hell), as you’d watched Friends. Your thoughts were subdued, but still spiraled a tad. . .though, you took Gia’s advice and tried to slow them down to navigate each one with what you genuinely knew. There was nothing telling you that you weren’t with child besides your own convoluted mess of negative thought. More signs were pointing to that you still were. One piece of truth keeping you going was your growing belly. And even though bellies could still grow after miscarriage or in the case of hysterical pregnancy, the probability of that being your situation was very, very slim. Right?

You knew that. 

Before too long, you were standing in front of your vanity, braiding your wet hair and laying down to find rest much easier than many nights in recent times. . . the only thing that kept you up for a bit longer than you wanted was wondering why Jake hadn’t come home yet.

But, again, you knew it was none of your fucking business.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The next afternoon had you waiting outside of your apartment as soon as Josh said he was about five minutes away. Your apartment had started to feel absolutely insufferable, closing in around you as your mind went crazy with scenarios.

The autumn day was lovely, sun shining, but warmer today than it’d been yet this season. With no breeze. And, the lack of breeze was not aiding in your already-sweaty palms, wet with nerves. Or your upset stomach—your current nausea induced by your anxiety more than the (hopeful) baby in your tummy.

Your stomach was fucking rolling as you waited for Josh to pull up to the complex. 

Dramatic as it may have sounded, you felt as if you were on the verge of a heatstroke when he eventually showed up in his little car, which was literally squeaking and creaking as it sat still. The exhaust emitted from the back of the car was enough to make you feel like you were actually going to blow chunks, and you instantly decided you could not ride thirty minutes to the clinic in his little hunk of metal.

Sending a quick text, you made up an excuse to take your car. To emphasize the text, you went ahead and started walking to your Jetta, parked in its usual spot.

You, 11:49 p.m.: I need to get gas… Can we take my car? 

Josh, 11:50 p.m.: Of course.

Josh, 11:50 p.m.: Are you ready?

You smiled, looking over to where he was still parked in his visitor space. His eyebrows crinkled in concentration to the device in his hand as he watched the screen, waiting for you to respond.

You, 11:51 p.m.: Yes, Joshua. I’m at my car and staring right at you.

As soon as he got the text, you waited for what you knew was coming. He looked up from his phone, through his windshield, and at you with a giant grin painted across his features. It didn’t take him long to get out of his car, lightly jogging as he came over to you. 

“You creep,” he smiled, slightly out of breath. “Peeking through my windows.”

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach started aching, yet again, at the prospect of what you were about to tell him. Honestly, at this point, you were just ready to get it over. The longer you kept it to yourself, the more you were worrying about it and his possible reaction. And the sooner you could just tell him, you’d see his honest, real reaction. . . and then you could deal with the rest from there. 

It also helped that his girlfriend and your certified therapist thought that it would go okay. They were the practical thinkers in this situation, whereas you were an overthinker to the highest degree. And, if you could just get it out–just fucking tell him–you could (hopefully) validate their predictions of how the situation would play out. 

“Am I driving or are you?” He asked, bringing your thoughts back to the present. 

To current Josh. Josh who didn’t know anything yet. Completely ignorant Josh. . . fuck. The last moments of keeping him in the dark.

“You,” was all you said before you unlocked the car and made your way to the passenger side. Once you were both inside, you handed him the keys as he started the engine.

Your stomach fucking dropped as he backed out of the space. . . what was about to come out would literally change you and Josh forever.

Would it be for good? Would it be for bad? If he was going to be mad at you, how long would he stay that way?

You couldn’t be upset with him if he got angry. For everything. Like distracting Jake when Josh had specifically told you he didn’t want that for his twin. Or for simply keeping this giant ass secret from him about it all. The more you thought about it, you thought that perhaps the reason you were so scared was because of how completely validated he would be if he did end up being pissed as hell with you. . .

But. . . you just couldn’t stand losing him. Especially at such a time as this. . . you needed him. 

And that’s why you just needed to fucking tell him. It was inevitable for him to find out, and the sooner it was out, the sooner you weren’t lying to him anymore. Because that’s exactly what you’d been doing. You’d been fucking lying. For months. To your best friend.

“So,” he began, excited–the complete opposite of how you were feeling. “Where are we going?” 

Plugging your phone into the CarPlay, you turned off Siri’s voice before you did anything since you didn’t want her blurting out your destination before you were ready to tell him. Once she was silenced, you pulled up the directions to the clinic you’d carefully chosen. 

You sat back slowly after entering it, your stomach spinning as your thoughts went insane and your nerves continued to set on white-hot fire.

You spared a glance over at him through your lashes to see him looking out the corner of his eye at you, coming up to a stoplight. The look he was giving you made you sure that your face was morphed to show utter terror and worry. “What’s wrong, mama?”

Fuck. You turned to face the front again and squeezed your eyes shut at the nickname, bringing two clenched, sweaty fists up to your eyes as your skin began to feel like it was quite actually peeling off of you in nervous jitters. Your eyes couldn’t stand being squeezed shut any longer as you felt the tears forming behind your lids.

He continued driving, but with the occasional nervous glance in your direction. 

Then, he laid a comforting palm on your shoulder, his thumb soothing circles over your arm. 

And, once he’d done that, it was no longer in your control to keep the tears at bay. You tried to fight them back, but it was to no avail. 

So, there you were, face becoming drenched in tears as you couldn’t stop sputtering little sobs. 

In your peripheral, you saw Josh looking at you as he came to one last light before the highway, face surely painted with distress. “Y/n?” He checked, careful and concerned. “I’m sorry if I said some–.”

And what came out of your mouth next was not at all expected. But, it blurted through your lips with zero fucking warning. You did not know which part of your brain had decided to communicate with your mouth to say it.

“I’m pregnant,” you sobbed.

The car lurched to a stop, cars honking furiously behind you at Josh’s abrupt action. Your stomach, already thick with nerves, couldn’t handle it. You quickly slapped an open palm over your mouth to conceal any projectile vomiting. Thankfully none came, but you had to clench your eyes shut once again as Josh made a wide, sloppy U-turn off of the street that was leading to the highway. 

And when he’d finally come to a stop again, you opened your eyes to see he’d pulled the car over into the nearest McDonald’s.

Focusing too hard on trying not to vomit helped you to stop the outrageous weeping for a few minutes. You finally peeled the hand from your mouth as you took several deep breaths, in and out, to calm yourself and your stomach. 

Before you even knew what was happening, Josh was getting out, running to the door of the establishment. You watched in the mirror to your right as he simultaneously got his wallet out of his back pocket. 

Choosing not to worry about it, you shut your eyes once more to ease your tummy. But it did not help and you felt the puke coming in just enough time to unlock your door, open it, and puke all over a piece of the yellow line that boxed the car into its space.

You groaned as you leaned back up into the car and into your seat, letting your hair fall from the impromptu ponytail that you were holding at the back of your neck. Popping open the glovebox, you grabbed a few napkins to wipe your face (these days, between the incessant crying and vomiting, you were fucking constantly thanking God for the years-accumulated collection).

And then the driver’s side door was opening once more, this time Josh’s khakis making the first appearance as he climbed back in. He had two cups, one balanced between his bicep, clad in a white, long-sleeved tee and his chest and one in his hand. He quickly placed both in the center cup holders and popped a straw in each. 

Your brows lifted, wondering. “What did you–?” 

“Sprite,” he pointed to the one at the front. “And water,” the one in the second holder. 

“How did you–?”

“There’s a part of my brain permanently cemented with what it was like to watch my mom be pregnant with Sammy,” he explained, eyes soft with a smile gracing his handsome features. “I was too young to remember watching her pregnancy with Ron, but Sammy. . . he’s always been tough–even in the fuckin’ womb.”

You gave a small giggle, stomach spinning when your hand went to grab the Sprite. The carbonation sounded perfect, and Sprite had been a go-to in a few cases of your recent nausea. 

The cool drink had been just what you’d needed, sighing as soon as you brought the straw away from your lips with the first sip. You kept it clutched in your hands as a lifeline when you looked at Josh next, eyes wet. “Thank you, Joshy,” you croaked, tone exuding gratefulness. 

“Yeah, always,” he affirmed, his eyebrows dipped in. The next few minutes were spent in silence, your thoughts finally quieted a little with the initial confession to him. You took a few quiet sips of your drink, the sound of you swallowing the loudest sound in the small car.

Knowing he most likely wasn’t wanting to pressure you to talk, you took the initiative. “I–I’m sorry for not– I’m–,” you choked, shaking your head. The tears were beginning to gather once fucking more. Yet, even with eyes wet and throat tight, you persevered. You had to get the rest of it said before you continued to the appointment–you were going to be late if you didn’t get going soon. And you weren’t about to tell him the rest afterwards. “I have to tell you the rest.”

His jaw clenched in preparation for it as he nodded, his body turning to better face you for what was left. “Lay it on me.”

You gulped, mimicking his movement so you could see him better. Your throat was so tight it nearly suffocated you with nerves. “The–the father,” you started, looking into the eyes that looked so eerily similar to his brother’s. Very much like the ones you hoped your baby would wind up having–yet, not entirely the same. “Do you want to know?”

Of course you’ll want to, you thought at your ridiculous question. And I’m going to tell you anyway, but I’m stalling like a pussy.

His lips quirked, but only the slightest, tiniest bit. “Only if you want to tell me.”

I have to.

“I–I do,” you said, your eyes darting down to your hands which wrung at your waist, itching to touch your tummy. So, you did, settling them on the small bump. And instantly, you felt better. You were beginning to find it slightly crazy what one simple touch could do. 

Choosing to watch your hands lace at your tummy instead of him, you took the last jump with two words. “It’s Jake.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: i promise you won't be waiting a month for Josh's reaction ;) see you very, very soon <3

ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts!

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[kunoichi-ume]

Since I am revisiting this ship thought I would share the ficlet that inspired the ship that is now, and probably always, my second favorite Aric ship (because @cinlat's Fynta and him are number one, but we use different skins so it's like a different character haha).

It's also 1 hit away from 600 so that exciting and they deserve to hit that milestone.

Summary: Aric wasn't surprised to wake up alone after spending a night with a turned Imperial Intelligence Agent. What did suprise him was her complaints about his dishes.

Aric wasn’t surprised to wake up alone. He woke up alone most days, so it wasn’t an unusual occurrence, but then most nights he went to bed alone.

That could not be said in this case. 

No when he went to bed, or more accurately, fell into bed he was in the company of a Chiss woman who was as beautiful as she was deadly – the way an Imperial Intelligence Agent turned spy for the Republic should be. 

While a small part of him was sad to wake up and find his bed occupied only by himself, he wasn’t going to admit that. He still wasn’t sure why he had let this happen, the last person the XO of Havoc Squad should be sleeping with was an Imperial Agent, former or not. The idea of the damage she could do with access to the information stored on their ship was chilling, and it made him grateful he had brought her back to his seldom used apartment for the privacy instead. 

Despite the obvious reasons it was a bad idea to get involved with Naadia, Aric couldn’t help but feel immensely satisfied. It had been several years since his last relationship and he wasn’t usually one for one-night stands. Last night had scratched an itch he had forgotten he had. 

If there was one bright spot to her being a one-time enemy, he didn’t have to worry about her wanting more than he could afford to give at the moment. With his recent promotion, and the war breaking out again there wasn’t time for a relationship in his life.  Her life as a double agent, reporting critical Imperial data to the SiS couldn’t have been any less hectic. 

That didn’t change the fact that he wished there was time for it. It wasn’t a desire he ever voiced, one he rarely thought of, but a mate and children? Those were things he genuinely wanted in his life. 

The sound of his bedroom door opening interrupted his musing about what a child that was a mix of Chiss and Cathar might look like. He sat up in surprise, his blankets pooling across his lap when Naadia poked her head in the room. 

“Hey, where do you keep your gravy boat?” 

Aric stared back at her, unsure if he was more bewildered by her presence or her question. 

Frowning at his silence, she stepped into the room properly and he could see she had taken one of his shirts to wear. “Aric,” she asked, her accented voice soft with concern, “are you alright?” 

He shook his head with a huff before looking up to meet her eyes. "I thought you'd be gone by the time I woke up.” 

Naadia smiled at him, “if you slept much later I might have been. I can’t dally about all day you know.” 

“And you want to know where I keep my…” his voice trailed off as he tried to remember what she had asked. 

“Gravy boat,” she supplied helpfully. 

“I don’t own a gravy boat.” 

She gave him a scandalized look, “no gravy boat? But… how do you serve gravy?” 

Aric pushed the blankets back and got out of bed, pulling his pants on before padding across the room to her. 

“This may be a surprise Naadia, but I don’t ‘serve’ gravy. Why are you asking?” 

“I’m making breakfast, and part of that breakfast is gravy. Therefore, I want a gravy boat, but I suppose I shall have to serve it like a heathen.” The combination of her serious tone and the ridiculousness of her statement made him laugh. 

“I can’t help it if I raised to do things properly,” she snapped but he could see in her face she wasn’t actually upset. Her smile was a dead giveaway. 

With a final chuckle, Aric set his hand on the top of her head, dragging his claws lightly across her scalp. She hummed happily at the feeling and he looked down at her with a faint smile. 

“You made me breakfast?” 

She nodded, leaning her head farther into his hand, “I did, and it’s ready if you are hungry.” 

Aric stared at her for a long moment, considering her carefully. He had truly expected her to be gone by now, not making him breakfast, dressed in one of his shirts and practically melting at the touch of his hand. That she had done all those things was throwing him for a loop. 

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t appreciative of her efforts or the glimpse into what could maybe, someday, be. Maybe it could be with her, maybe it wouldn’t, but for one morning it was far too tempting to pass up. 

“So,” Naadia said, poking him in the stomach, “are you hungry?” 

“Starving,” he answered. 

A week later he found a package on his bunk, one none of the crew saw delivered. There was no return address, just the words "for next time" written across the top. He already suspected it was from Naadia, but after he opened it he had no doubts. Who else would send him the fanciest gravy boat he had ever seen?

[blarefordaglare]

Day 7

sorry for not making day 6, but here’s some angst to cheer you up! (I worked on this 3 separate times so sorry if it’s a bit chunky!)

Murder >:) 

In which Wild generally thinks he killed his bros cuz I made him the therapist for too long and I wanna mix things up (sorry buddy, you can’t escape the sadness)

Also bonus: spot the Shakespeare line :).

Oh and sky is a mom friend and nobody can tell me otherwise. But that’s a spoiler for tomorrow, today it’s legend’s time to shine.

TW: Bl00d/gore, SH/SI (very little kinda) death, but not really death, unintentional attempt murder (is that a thing?) and basically heavy angst. You have been warned.

Wild was shaking. No, shaking was an understatement. The boy’s muscles tensed and relaxed over and over again. His palms were painted with a bloody, drying civil blood which made his civil hands unclean. 

He killed them. Each and every one of his brothers, his family. He watched in loop as the memory of inserting the dagger into each chest. The blood that slowly dripped down their bodies.

…

They were too trusting. He shouldn’t have joined. He should have never gone to the shrine and instead should have just been left on the grass to die. 

His nails, through short, dug into his face as chunks of flesh started to bury in between them. His face burned. His eyes burned. Everything burned. 

The ‘champion’ eyed the cooking pot. The butter sizzled in mockery. His inner clock was ticking, but the butter would just sizzle, sizzle, sizzle. 

It kept sizzling. 

Wild couldn’t do this. The ringing of their screams spun and stuck around like a constant melody in his head. It’s all my fault. 

I tried and I failed them all.

Tears slowly pooled in the corner of the ‘hero’s’ eyes. Failure was a constant bell ringing in his head. What kind of ‘hero’ kills his family? What kind of person kills his family?

“Hey champ, you doing alright over there?” A Legend-like voice called out. Stop pretending to be there. I killed you. Stop messing with my mind. 

The 100% hallucinated Legend stared at his brother for a hot second before stepping closer, “Hey, are you alright?” 

Get away from me, you’re not real. None of this is real. I’ll just close my eyes and wake back up somewhere that isn’t here. 

“Link, I’m talking to you?” This faux Legend doesn’t know when to be it seems. He’s not real he’s not real he’s not real he’s not-

“Lin-“

Wild’s head looked up, revealing red lines scratched down to his chin, “Shut up! You’re not real, you’re just a figment of my imagination. I already killed you once and I will not hesitate to kill you again. Get out of my head!” Legend froze. None of this makes any sense, why is he acting like this? The pink haired boy thought.

“What do you mean… killed?” Legend tried to step closer, only to be pushed away.

“Shut- Shut it!” The boy cried, “I already feel bad for it- don’t make me do it again.” 

Don’t make you do what again?

There was no winning this battle, at least not alone. Legend slowly backed away, “Um, just stay here. Keep doing what you’re doing.” And just like that Legend slowly escaped back to camp. 

“Guys we” 

the first two words for tomorrow’s fanfic :)

[1-800-fuccthisshit]

random headcanon time(?!) ft sasha’s younger sister.

【𝘚𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘖𝘕 4 𝘚𝘗𝘖𝘐𝘓𝘌𝘙𝘚 | 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋 𝘈𝘛 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙 𝘖𝘞𝘕 𝘋𝘐𝘚𝘊𝘙𝘌𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕】

𝘊𝘞 : 𝘔𝘜𝘙𝘋𝘌𝘙, 𝘚𝘜𝘐𝘊𝘐𝘋𝘌

𝘞𝘊 : 1,395

✦✦

thinking about sasha’s sister who’s like three years younger than her. they were as close as you can get.

i think it goes without saying that she took sasha’s death the hardest.

i’m talking full blown breakdown. cried so hard she passed out only to wake up crying again.

she’d calmed down enough to be somewhat social when kaya came inside one morning followed by a pair of siblings. mia and ben.

however, all of that went out the window when niccolo told her family that mia was the kid responsible for the death of her big sister.

she blacked out.

not for long, though. when she came to, there was too much happening. someone screaming bloody murder, someone pulling on her hair, someone’s arms wrapped around her.

she realized it was her not only screaming (think azula at the end of atla book three), but also pulling at her hair. her mom was holding her, trying to stop her from hurting herself.

i’d like to say it was at this point that she cracked up.

while her family was being held at gun point by yeagerists, she sat holding her knees, rocking back and forth and mumbling to herself.

“she’ll die. she has to, she killed my sister. i’ll kill her. i’m gonna kill her.”

even after the girl saved her little sister, there was nothing she wanted more than to end her life.

while her family was being escorted by scouts through the fire, she quietly stood behind the girl she hated more than anything and whispered in her ear.

“i am going to kill you.”

after the rumbling and the death of the yeager brothers, everyone felt a peace they’d never felt before.

everyone except one braus girl.

✦✦

the year was 860. it was just after what would’ve been sasha’s 26th birthday. with a smile, she’d told her family she wanted to do a bit of traveling. they were so excited for her, it seemed she was finally gonna be herself again.

“take care of everyone while im gone, kaya, okay?”

“okay, sis. have fun! hurry back, though, we’ll miss you.”

no one noticed the missing handgun.

stepping onto the boat felt like a breath of fresh air, the trip to liberio relaxing.

she spent twelve days looking for gabi. she spent another fifteen following her around liberio, watching her every move. on the twenty eighth day, she cornered the girl in an alleyway.

gabi slowed to a stop as she felt the presence behind her. she would usually come here to try out different narcotics with falco because levi hated the smell of it indoors.

“i was wondering if it was levi you were following, or me,” she spoke before turning around. behind her stood an individual wearing a cloak. there was a small smirk on her face, but she was very clearly irritated by her stalker.

“gabi,” was the only word that came out of the young woman’s mouth. there were so many emotions rushing through her. so much anger, so much sadness.

so much joy.

the irritable smirk on gabi’s face fell slowly but surely at the somewhat familiar voice. she couldn’t pinpoint it, but something about it caused a chill to run down her spine, causing her to feel something she hadn’t in over five years.

“do i.. know you? why are you following me, what do you want?” the initial fear she felt was replaced by something more fiery by the second.

“you killed my sister, gabi,” she stepped into the moonlight. gabi could finally see it all. the dark green cloak. the hood over the woman’s head. the expressionless face and the bloodshot eyes staring at her.

before giving gabi a chance to speak, she spoke again, “do you remember what i said to you, gabi? after you shot that titan?”

and it was in that moment that gabi truly understood the severity of her situation. she tried to mask it, but the fear she felt earlier came back tenfold.

“i’m so sorry about your sister, i swear i am. i wish i could take it back-”

“what did i say to you, gabi?”

gabi stilled. she figured she could probably take her in hand to hand and the woman didn’t look armed. if she was armed with something though, that might be a different story.

“hold on, wait. i.. i’ll do whatever you want. this doesn’t have to get violent! we can figure something..”

she trailed off as the gun was pulled out of the cloak.

“can you bring my sister back, gabi? if not, there’s really nothing else to be said.”

“wait! you’ll get arrested!”

“there are six bullets. i only need to save one after i’m done with you.”

“h- hold on! what about kaya! your family!”

“my family will be just fine. please stop talking.”

“please, don’t do this! think about sasha! she wouldn’t-” gabi screamed as a shot rang out.

“wiil you shut up. you really have the gall to use sasha to talk me out of this? i’m doing this for sasha,” she spoke with unadulterated rage before sighing.

“great. now i only have four to spend.”

“please don’t do this to me, i don’t wanna die! im sorry!” gabi cried.

the woman before her cocked her head to the side.

“i don’t recall asking what you wanted, gabi. do you think sasha wanted to die?” her voice was dripping with confusion, almost as if she couldn’t comprehend why gabi would try pleading with her.

as her final tactic, gabi shouted through tears, “falco’s on his way here! you’ll get caught-”

“good. that means you won’t have to rot for long.”

with that, two consecutive shots rang. as her legs gave out, gabi screamed in pain from the newly placed holes in her knees.

the woman walked up to her, pulling her hair back and forcing the gun into her mouth.

she contemplated making the girl beg for her life, but before she could she heard hurried footsteps coming their way.

“gabi, i heard gunshots! and screams! are you ok-” as falco rounded the corner, he came to an abrupt stop seeing the love of his life on the ground, bleeding from both legs, a gun shoved in her mouth, and tears and snot running down her face. he made eye contact with the woman standing above her and recognized her as the oldest girl from the braus home.

“stop! don’t hurt her please i’m begging you!”

“you’re here faster than i anticipated. it doesn’t matter though. changes nothing,” her voice was eerily calm as she pulled the trigger a fourth time.

blood splattered on the wall behind gabi as the light in her eyes went out.

falco’s anguished cries were all that was heard as he finally ran to gabi.

“gabi! please don’t leave me! look at me, everything’s gonna be okay! just hold on!” he held her in his arms, doing everything in his power to wake her up.

“check for a pulse,” a soft voice spoke from behind him, because of the adrenaline rush he felt, he didn’t question it.

he reached for her wrist first. then her neck. after placing his fingers under her nose, he felt his heart crack.

“she’s not breathing,” he spoke so softly you could hardly hear him.

“she’s dead?” the feminine voice from before responded.

hearing the joy in her voice, falco snapped.

“you monster! you did this to her! she had her whole life ahead of her-”

“so did sasha,” a frown crossed her face as she responded to his shouts.

with tears in his eyes, falco said the same three words that started this journey for the girl.

“i’ll kill you.”

and that frown was replaced by a smile, one entirely too big given the circumstances.

“no need. i got it covered.”

she died with a smile.

levi ended up being the one to inform the families of the murder-suicide. after consoling the grieving braun family, he took it upon himself to travel to paradis.

his arrival with sasha’s old cloak, now splattered with blood, and a letter on top said more than enough.

he informed them that her body had been on the boat with him and was going to be at the morgue until they could get her buried.

she got a nice plot right beside her big sister.

✦✦

𝘶𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 500 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘹 (⊙ˍ⊙). 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘢 𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 (𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴? 𝘺𝘦𝘴) 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘬 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘢𝘵𝘴𝘶𝘬𝘪 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵. 𝘴𝘰 𝘪 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬. 𝘣𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪 <(￣︶￣)>

— 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘺𝘢

[moodycowplant]

13. This Love Could Survive Everything.

Deep conversations. The whole truth. Forgiveness.

A few weeks later.

During this time, Nova spent more days with her friends than in her own apartment. She was struggling, but she was also learning to move forward. It was hard—but not impossible.

Late at night, her phone buzzed. She ignored it at first, unwilling to check who was calling. But it rang again. And again. Annoyed, she finally grabbed it.

"Joseph"

Her heart skipped a beat, then started pounding in her chest like crazy. Her palms felt sweaty , her cheeks flushed. "What should she do? Answer? Ignore it?"

She was trying to get used to life without him. She should let it go. "But... what if he’s in trouble? What if he needs her help?" Her thoughts spiraled as the phone continued buzzing, relentless.

“Ughhh... stop!” she yelled into her pillow. But the phone kept ringing.

Finally, she answered, her voice sharp with frustration.

“Yes, what do you want, Joseph?”

“Please, don’t hang up. I need you to listen. Meet me. Give me two hours, and after that, you can decide what to do. Please, Nova, I’m begging you.”

His voice was calm, low but with desperation.

“Are you drunk, Joseph? Is that why you’re calling me?”

“Please, just meet me. I’ll be waiting for you at Central Cemetery,” he said, and the line went dead.

“Joe? Joseph? Hello?” she called into the phone, but he was gone.

She tried calling him back, but his phone was off.

“Damn it,” she muttered, tossing the covers aside and getting out of bed.

Thirty minutes later.

Nova stepped out of the cab and looked up at the old, rusty sign: "Central Cemetery".

It was cold, dark, and creepy. She wrapped her arms around herself and whispered, “What the hell am I doing here?”

A few steps in, she spotted a figure ahead. His platinum blond hair stood out, even in the dim light. It was Joseph.

“Joseph? What the actual f*ck is going on? Are you out of your mind? I’ve been worried sick! You can’t just tell me to meet you at a cemetery and then disappear! Geez!”

“I’m sorry. My phone died,” he said softly. “Thank you for coming. Please, follow me. I’ll explain everything.”

“For f*ck’s sake,” Nova muttered, sighing as she followed him deeper into the cemetery’s darkness.

He stopped at a grave.

“Joe, what the hell am I doing here in the middle of the night? Whose grave is this?” she asked, carefully stepping over a bench.

“Hey, sis. Meet Nova,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. Then he turned to Nova, his eyes filled with pain. “Nova, this is my sister, Jolly. I think it’s time you finally ‘met’ her and heard the whole story.”

Nova froze.

“Your sister? She’s... dead? You had a sister? We dated for five years, Joseph! You never mentioned her! What—why?”

“Please, sit,” he said, lowering himself to the ground. “I asked for two hours of your time. You need to know everything. I wasn’t honest with you about my past, and I’m sorry.”

He told her everything—about his childhood, how his sister was the only family he had, how he raised her, their years of hiding, and how he lost her. He told her how he ended up trapped in “Penny’s cage,” haunted by guilt and grief.

Nova listened, her heart breaking with every word. A few tears slipped down her cheeks as she realized how deeply wounded he was.

His actions and lies over the years weren’t excusable, but for the first time, she understood the weight he carried.

It was a start—a start toward finding the strength to forgive him.

Joseph stood and walked toward her, taking her hand in his.

“I want to try again, Nova. With you. I love you. I know there’s no excuse for what I’ve done, but I want to earn your forgiveness. Please, let me try.”

She looked into his eyes and saw him—her Joseph. The man she had fallen in love with. He looked different now, with dark circles and a empty sad gaze, but it was still him.

And in that moment, she knew.

She could forgive him—with time.

She had missed him so much.

“Come home with me, Joe,” Nova whispered, her lips brushing against his as she kissed him softly.

<Previous - Next >

[timespaceandfilm]

Reinventing the Wheel - Ch 25: Sahara Love

Author: timespaceandfilm

Fic Rating: E - this fic has some NSFW content in other chapters, 18+ only

Chapter Rating: E - there be smut, but not in the blurb

Pairings: Sebastian x Female Farmer

Chapter Word Count: 16 k

Notes: This chapter’s title is inspired by this song: https://open.spotify.com/track/6KjTXwntv8paBCL3El9TnV?si=c72bbdc35e4a4382

(Above & Beyond, Zoe Johnston, Seven Lions. "Sahara Love - Seven Lions Remix")

Chapter Warnings: Some mild homophobia (from another villager, not Seb or Charlie), Spice is back on the menu!

Chapter Summary: Seb busts his ass to make things right. Charlie has an interesting experience at the Dance of the Moonlight Jellies. Seb takes Charlie on a ride. Charlie finally figures out how to describe that warm feeling in her chest and that way that Seb always looks at her.

Blurb:

Seb climbs off first, totally steady on his feet as if we haven’t been hurtling down open roads for the last half hour. He holds out a gloved hand to help me dismount.

“How was the ride?” He takes both our helmets and places them on the handlebars.

I take a few shaky steps to try and walk off the adrenaline a bit. “A little scary at first, but kind of fun once I got used to it,” I admit. “Where are we?”

Seb takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. “This is my secret spot. Check it out.” He takes my hand and guides me closer to the cliff edge.

My breath leaves me for a moment as the land below comes into view on the horizon. There before us, looking like a chunk of an alien planet, is a skyline I know all too well.

“Zuzu,” I whisper.

Seb nods. “I come here when I want to get away from everything. When I need to just be on my own and think.”

The toxic bots are doing their damnedest to extrapolate on that statement.

He wants to get away from everything.

Everyone does sometimes.

The crinkle of plastic pulls my attention back to Seb. He pops a piece of his gum in his mouth and looks at me warily.

“So what do you think?”

I take a deep breath. “I dunno. It’s strange seeing it from this distance. Like I’m looking at what my life could’ve been if things had gone differently. It’s sad in a way.”

When I look at Seb again he’s got that unidentifiable look in his eyes again. His cheeks are back to rosy as he smiles softly.

“Y’know it’s funny. That’s exactly how I feel. Strangely sad…”

A few toxic bots murmur at this.

“But also strangely happy too. As much as the city used to draw me in, I find I’m much happier living in the Valley now.”

Another chunk of that mental wall falls away at those words. There’s just one piece left.

Read the Full Chapter on AO3

[lovable-chica]

The Parasite Virus Au/ Feat Ocs Amber, Suzi, Abby and Sweetstar Part 2

before I began part 2, I want you guys to know that this is for my friend @thechaddyengine again, This Virus Au belongs to him not to me, added two more of my ocs to this, just for fun, let’s start with part 2!

*It was 8 am in the morning and it was cloudy in the sky, and Amber, Edward and Suzy were already awake while James was still sleeping*

Amber: *Yawns* G”Morning you 2

Suzi and Edward: Morning

Amber: Me and Su should probably leave to find Thomas and Percy.

Edward: Ok You Two, Just Be Safe Out There, There Might Be Creatures that are dangerous.

Suzi: Ok, Bye Eddie!

*After They Left, Amber used her Alli-Pup magic to turn her and Suzi into Tank Engines*

Suzi: Sis, are you sure these disguises will work if an engine that turn into a creature will be fooled?

Amber: Sure, if it’s a un-infected engine, we’ll take of these disguises, ok?

*Suzi Just Nod, They both continued down the line and checked every station and place for other survivors, then they arrived at Knapford Sheds and saw a familiar yellow figure, it was Molly! She looked awful, the top of her face was gone and replaced with glowing yellow eyes and had cracks all over her and was missing her tender, then she looked at Amber and Suzi and gasp*

Molly: Amber?! Suzi?!

Amber: Molly?! What happened to you?!

Molly: *Looks Sad* i-it was E-Emily, She did this to me, I think she turn into a monster after she had her accident and the virus got her..

*Amber and Suzi were horrified of what Emily did to one of her close friends*

Suzi: Oh My God! That Explains Why James explained to us about what almost happened to him in the 90s, and how could Emily to You?!

???: Because She Cares Only About Killing Everyone..

*A Voice said and coming out of Molly’s Cab was Their Sister Abby, Amber and Suzy Quickly Transform back into their normal hybrid-husky selves*

Amber: Abby?! Thank God! Your Alright!

Abby: I’m Not The Only One Here with Molly, Star! You come out now!

*Coming out of the shadow was Sweetstar and she looked worried*

Amber: Star! You are also alright, what’s wrong?

Sweetstar: Have you Seen Arthur and Rosepuff?!

Amber: I’m sorry, we haven’t seen them.

*Amber noticed Sweetstar had a scar on her left eye, she only assumed Emily did that to her, and she wanted to rest up for the rest of the morning to think about her next move.

[nobodysdaydreams]

DUCK BOY IS PUTTING HIS TRUST IN THE WRONG PERSON, BUT I DON’T CARE CAUSE HE APPARENTLY BLEW UP A HOSPITAL.

ALSO: IS LOVELACE AN ALIEN? (or my reaction to episodes 35-37 of Wolf359, plus the end credits scene).

Welcome back dear readers. Thanks again for your patience. Very excited for this end credits scene 👀

Tagging the mutuals who got me invested in this, and if you want to be tagged or untagged from these posts, lmk, or you can follow my blog or simply follow the tag "#bods wolf359 reactions". Anyone who has followed me for a while knows my updates are inconsistent, so I apologize in advance for that and for any spelling/grammar mistakes in my posts.

@sophieswundergarten @oflightningandstars @acollectionofcuriousreblogs @herawell @commsroom

Episode 35: Need to Know

Oh boy. A Kepler episode. 😒

“Are we blowing up?” sad that this has become a routine question.

“certain questions only lead to pain” very true.

“head of I don’t give care do your job department” Well Kepler, maybe I’m the head of the throwing you out the airlock department.

Kepler man you gotta give them better info. The lack of trust is insane. “Don’t forget where you are, I will give you a gruesome death.”

Doug. Doug. Do not trust Kepler.

Do not trust the evil Whiskey man.

oh shut it Jacobi. Every time you speak, you take-

Wait. Hera? HERA?

New file? Emergency scenario?

THE BLACK ARCHIVES AGAIN. 👀

“A violation of Kepler’s trust”. Well, I for one do not think Kepler’s trust is worth anything.

oh my gosh are they trying to tear the Hephaestus crew apart by reviewing their dirty secrets?

This is so sneaky and coordinated. I hate Maxwell and Jacobi so much.

DO NOT MOCK MINKOWSKI FOR HER LOVE OF SHOW TUNES JACOBI!

I want Maxwell and Jacobi to join Kepler in his airlock. For those of you who love SI-5, fear not. I will pack them plenty of Whiskey for the journey.

Fear of… ducks? 🦆 Well. I suppose we found his weakness. See Jacobi you shouldn’t have mocked the show tunes.

Restraining order? What’s up with Maxwell’s families?

A BET?

An internet scam? I don’t care if this is Jacobi pretending to be stupid, he’s perfect for the role. Maybe the airlock will be a merciful death for him. No ducks in space.

Uh… what report is that? Hera?

Oh my gosh is it the ducks again? “Hostile assault on senses?” What does that mean? Snoring? Well, that’s bad.

They got dirt on Kepler now? 👀 Oh. He likes expensive skiing. ⛷️

Wait. We can use this. Maybe we can sabotage his skis. Cause a little accident.

Hera wouldn’t try to kill you! She just wants free will!

“Oh boo hoo I killed a plant. At least I didn’t drug my fellow crew members.” shut up duck boy.

DUCK BOY BLEW UP A HOSPITAL?

I respectfully disagree. These holes are not equally deep. Minkowski loves theater, and Hera just wants free will. Duck boy blew up a hospital.

What’s the file? Her husband better not be dead. Oh is this about Doug?

That was about Doug wasn’t it? Whatever crime he did? The reason he doesn’t talk to his family?

Yikes. Doug what did you do?

Aw Doug. Thank you for apologizing. See Minkowski? He cares about you. He’s not a monster, even if he did do a bad thing.

That’s the real reason Kepler, Jacobi, and Maxwell did this isn’t it? So that they’d lose trust in Doug?

Jacobi shut up. Kidnapping? Child endangerment?

That doesn’t sound good. Was this a custody arrangement gone wrong? That’s my best guess so far. Cause that, plus the family stuff seems like a custody arrangement gone wrong. He mentioned cigarettes and beer a lot so maybe there were substance abuse issues.

But… if I’m right…that means that Doug… has a kid. A kid he probably misses and regrets hurting. And they made HIM answer questions from third graders.

If that’s true they’re awful. I mean, we already knew that, but yikes.

“What about you? Are you going to care? Goodnight 🥰” shut up duck boy. Episode 36: Fire and Brimestone Oh dear is this the Spider lab? 🕷️ It better not be.

“Too early?” You’re in space there is no morning.

“How did they survive without an engineer?” they weren’t supposed to Maxwell, you know that. What you also don’t know is how smart they are.

SL7? Haven’t used it for much? Why do the ships have so many weird and ominous rooms?

“and that’s…bad???… which means???…” me too Doug, me too.

Oh great Duck Boy gets more dynamite. 🧨

Minkowski call him out. And duck boy, no one cares about you.

“Maybe we don’t have to get her out” Exactly what I’ve been saying! Let her go. I wish it was Mr. Duck Boy or Discount Cutter: Whiskey Edition, but at least we could eliminate one problem.

“How do we make this call?” Well, this episode title seems to have done that. I see this as a win. Maxie survives, she gets a shot a redemption. She dies eh… it’s a bit like this hot chocolate I have in my hands. /j

“I couldn’t care less what Kepler thinks” I don’t either, let’s drown him in Whiskey 🥰

What thought? WHAT THOUGHT? Leaving Maxwell to die or killing her?

Look Doug. 99% of the time, I don’t like or go with the murder plan. But you’re in space. They could say you died up here and no investigation would take place. We don’t know what Cutter is doing, but we DO know who is cool with murder for their ambition, and who won’t stop until they get what they want. Other lives are at risk. Maybe thousands. Maybe the whole world if aliens get involved. You need to think about that.

Minkowski. Do not hold that over him. It’s private. You don’t know what happened. Neither do I, I’m making an assumption, but based on evidence presented, I think it’s a decent guess.

“Impossibly smart.” Mr. Duck Boy can be good at explosives but that doesn’t make him smart.

Did they program Hera to snitch? I hate them. I hate the whole SI-5.

I don’t like this. If Kepler hurts Minkowski I swear…

Your hand is not forced Kepler. No one is making you kill. That’s your choice.

I’d trust Doug over Hilbert.

“Then we all go together”. I love Doug the most.

But we still need a plan to kill Discount Cutter. And Duck Boy.

Critical condition? Poor Maxwell. But this isn’t gonna be good for Minkowski. She was only trying to help.

Yeah… it’s weird that they were that perfect. Almost like the stupid boy thing was a front to get you to put your guard down. But I still consider him incompetent.

They better not lock Minkowski in solitary. The last friendly warning? Whiskey boy, nothing about you is friendly. I hate him. Episode 37: Overture Off goes the probe. I wonder if it will find anything.

Sorry I’m doing chores while listening to this one, so reaction might be a bit brief.

Ugh. Of course Duck Boy is the favorite 🙄

THE MUSIC IS BACK! 🎶🎶🎶 And um… more sounds? Concerning sounds? Scary sounds? Very scary sounds?

Oh not the star again.

Translate from her thought stream? Binary code? Yeah, how do we know she’s actually translating.

Good idea Hera. Say something only Doug would know.

Oh more music. 🎶

Good work Doug. Don’t trust Maxwell. She makes you dependent on her to get to Hera, and then lulls you into a false sense of security.

Aliens leaving messages in music? I SAID THIS ON DAY ONE.

Kepler ought to shut his face. Using her love of space and her care for her crew against her? Perhaps the airlock is too merciful for Whiskey boy.

I did ride space mountain once. I didn’t like it.

I bet they did three months until the next episode too.

Now for that end credits scene 👀

I don’t hear anything.

Oh? Cutter’s telephone line?

Yep.

Huh. Jacobi and Maxwell aren’t deep on the inside. Seems like Duck Boy and Dr. Robot are also being played. Interesting…

…but here’s a question for you Kepler. Hilbert thought he was in the inner circle. You laughed because he’s not. Jacobi and Maxwell think they’re in the inner circle. You laugh because they’re not. You believe you are in the inner circle.

But how do you know there is not someone out there somewhere, laughing at you? And why would a man who knows so much about the dangers of space send up anyone he didn’t view as somewhat expendable?

Think about that Whiskey boy. Think about that.

Also: was Lovelace infected by the aliens? or did she make contact? Or is SHE the alien?

Well. I guess that’s all for now.

Thanks dear readers. Really getting through season 3 now. Excited to see what’s in store 👀

[aries-rp-corner]

Leafie awoke to find herself in a deep forest… yet the surroundings felt so familiar. The trees, the wind, the streams, and rivers… was this Pinwheel Forest? The Leavanny stood up and began to walk deeper in the forest, seeing such sight in the night truly made her feel at home again… it felt so real.

Looking at the trees where she and her brother use to perch on while eating their berries, and hang out with her old friends… a Pidove and a shiny Venipede. Remembering her mother found the Venipede wounded from his own kind, and she took him in to treat him. Making Leafie wonder if her two friends are okay after the Cipher attack… she’s really hopeful that they did made it through without being seen… Chirping sadly and angrily at herself, she is just now thinking about them after so long…while at the same time…she has been training herself to get ready to fight Mira or any Cipher Peon. That was when her thoughts ended as she spotted something glowing in the distance…

Walking over to find a pond… and a sleeping Sewaddle… but this one shook her, as he uncurled himself to reveal its her brother… tears formed as she ran into the shallow waters to see if this truly him.. her starry ghostly brother woke up to see his now evolved sister. Even he formed tears as the two embraced each other, nuzzling and chirping out of joy… looking at her brother however… a sad reality hits her… her brother is gone…but seeing his spirit here…causing her brother to look worried.

His spirit floated up in the air and nuzzled her gently to cheer her up, as if to say: “I know.. I’m gone, but I’m not going to leave you, Sis.” The Sewaddle gave Leafie a gentle soft happy expression to her, causing Leafie to tear up more and more as she held her brother for one final time… she didn’t want him to disappear again… but learning he is with her made her smile again… truly at peace in know he is with her.

However, her brother looked at her one last time as a voice echoed in the forest. “Inform my Niece and any of her friends that Pinwheel is gonna have new ugly visitors. Your old friends are there, and you’ll be surprised for what they become! And it’s good to see they are fighting to remember you and your brother…” A man spoke, as Leafie looked back to see shadowy figures of a Unfezant and a Scolipede. Like her, they also evolved and are now protecting what they have left…

Leafie turned around to see a man and her brother, she shivered to see white scars on the poor man, yet he held the most kindest smile he had. While on his shoulder was her brother, raising his little paw up to cheer his sister. “He will be with you, just like how I’ll be with my brother, his wife, and my niece. You can do this girly, show Cipher and all what you truly are.”

Leafie smiled as she nodded, after that, she woke to find herself on her makeshift bed and everyone sleeping. Looking aside to see Aries asleep on her desk again, causing Leafie to sigh softly as she carefully placed a blanket on her. She knew dawn was coming thus she decided to head outside to take in the fresh cold air, but thanks to her coat to honestly felt nice. Looking over to the mainland to see familiar trees of her old home… chirping sadly and with worry… Cipher or their new allies might indeed invade her old home..

[skelswritingcorner]

Patchouli's Revenge: Lavandula Spica | Prologue

This is an original series that I'm writing and plan on publishing as a light novel (which means I need to draw stuff). I've posted stuff related to this story on this blog before, but this is a full-fledged chapter out of... about 30 more of the story. I'll explain the chapters and synopsis in the masterpost.

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse and neglect, mentions of Sad Beige Moms, Religion

Word Count: 2.4K

The two young girls walked up the quiet road, illuminated only by the light of the crescent moon. The older one, with crimson hair and purple horns on top of her head, held the hand of the younger purple-haired girl whose hair was in a side ponytail cascading off her right shoulder. As they walked up the cobblestone path, they walked up to their destination; a simple building built with bricks colored similarly to the path they just walked upon.

The older girl knocked the brass knocker, shaped like a flower. One. Two. One. A secret code with every drum of the brass hitting ancient wood. Soon, the door opened to a middle-aged woman, smiling at the two girls.

“You must be the little sister Rose was referring to. We prepared a room for you already. It’s plain for now, but there is a desk for you to write and a bookshelf for your journals.” Her voice was warm, like sitting in front of a hearth after an especially cold day outside.

The younger girl tensed her hand around her older sister, tears welling up. “Is Rose staying with me?”

The older girl, Rose, shook her head. “Hey,” she knelt down, turning to her baby sister, “I know how you feel right now. If I could, I’d stay with you, but mother would put together a search party if she found out that I was gone for too long. I’m fifteen, I can handle her abuse.”

The purple-haired girl quivered, “But… she’s still mean. At least she ignores me most of the time.”

“And she shouldn’t. She never addressed any love to you, that’s why I asked the clergy here to take you in. I want you to know what love is, since father can’t be with us.” Rose rebutted, “Lavender, I promise that I will find you again. I don’t expect you to use your current name in the future, I know that once I’m old enough I’m gonna change it. When we meet again, tell me your new name, will you?”

Through choked sobs, Lavender nodded. Rose procured something from her bag, giving it to her sister. Lavender opened it, seeing two bright pink ribbons. Her eyes widened, looking at her sister. “How did you… mother would be mad if you brought something so colorful in her presence.”

Rose put a finger to her lips and winked, “Shhh, it’s a secret. Actually, dad wanted me to give it to you. He asked me to while you were fast asleep.”

Lavender nodded, turning to the clergy member.

“Are you ready, my child? I’ll bring you to your room so you can go to bed.” The sister asked.

Lavender nodded, before hugging her sister one last time, “Thank you… I hope I see you again.”

Rose returned her sister’s embrace, “Me too, sis. Who knows, maybe we’ll see each other in ten years.” After both sisters ended their final embrace, a mouth full of teeth opened up behind Rose. Lavender didn’t freak out at this, she knew that was what Rose’s portals looked like. With a final wave, Rose walked through the portal, which closed its mouth and disappeared once Rose went through.

Readjusting her bag, Lavender walked with the clergy member to the annex of where the clergy lived and slept. “I’m Sister Helga,” she introduced herself, “I’m the head of Skuld Church, you could call me a priest.”

“Church?” Lavender tilted her head, “What deity is worshipped here?”

Sister Helga nodded, “We worship Gimle, the god of bonds. Friendship, romantic, familial, marriage, all of that. She also took in orphans, allowing them to use her name as their surname. I hope that you’re alright with using her name as your surname.”

Lavender shrugged, “That’s fine, but I want to pick a new name for myself. I don’t have a problem with the name itself, but my mom’s the one who chose it and… I’m sure Primrose told you how my mother is already, Sister Helga.”

“That’s perfectly alright with me. Ah, we’re here.” Sister Helga stopped at a door, with an empty namecard in front of it. The door had flowers painted on it that Lavender did not recognize.

Helga opened the door, leading Lavender to a quaint room. There was a full-sized bed in one corner, with simple midnight blue blankets and periwinkle bedding. Lavender was relieved at the absence of beige. The furniture was wooden in a rich mohagony, with a bookshelf with a cabinet on one side next to a desk facing the window. The pink curtains were closed, but the faint moonlight from the outside shone in through the blackout.

Sister Helga glanced at the young girl, “Glad that there’s no beige in sight, huh? Your sister told me. Our god always loved vibraint jewel and pastel tones, so we didn’t have to change anything here. We also got clothes for you, you can change into some sleepwear and go rest. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the clergy once you’re rested.”

Lavender nodded, placing her bag gently upon the desk. Once Sister Helga closed the door, Lavender changed out of her beige ensemble and into the black pajama shirt and pants that were neatly folded on the bed. After taking off the beige ribbon on her hair, Lavender laid down on the bed.

She is finally free of her mother. Is a place of worship ideal for a little girl to live? It isn’t, but Lavender is glad that she is away from her mother’s suffocating presence at last.

●●●

When Lavender gets up, the sun is shining through the gap in the curtains. Next to her bag, some clothes are neatly folded with a note on top of them. She hops off the bed and reads the note.

Welcome to our clergy, young one. The sisters of the church can’t wait to meet you! These clothes are hand-me-downs from both members of the clergy and people who attend the church. We also bought you a few packs of fresh underwear. They’ve been washed and are in the drawers of the dresser next to your bed. Sister Agnes and I are going to take you around the church today. There are no services to do, so don’t worry. ~Sister Helga.

After reading the note, Lavender set it aside and looked at the clothes. They were mostly black dresses and other black pieces of clothing, like leggings. After putting some of them away in the dresser, Lavender grabbed the clothing she wanted to wear and put it on. It was a simple ensemble, a long-sleeved black dress that went past her knees and black leggings. She didn’t have any other pairs of shoes, likely since they didn’t want to accidentally give her a shoe too big or too small to fit. Guess Lavender has to continue wearing her sad little beige shoes for now. After putting everything on, she placed her pajamas in the hamper before opening the door to her room.

There were several members of the clergy walking around, some talking amongst themselves while cleaning. In the corner of her eye, Lavender noticed Sister Helga talking to a younger clergy member, most likely Sister Agnes. Lavender walked up to the two, who promptly greeted her.

“You’re the one we took in last night, correct?” The younger of the two asked, “I’m Sister Agnes, I hope you’re alright with me accompanying you and Sister Helga to show you around?”

Lavender nodded, “I don’t mind.”

Sister Agnes clapped her hands together, “Alright! Where would you like to go first, the patchouli fields, the church itself, or the kitchen?”

Lavender thought for a moment. Her mother never allowed flowers anywhere near her mansion, and the kitchen was one of the few places Lavender wasn’t allowed since she could cause an accident. “Can I go to the patchouli fields?” she asked.

“Yes, we can. Come with us, we’ll take you there.” Sister Helga offered her hand to Lavender, who took her hand. The three of them walked outside the annex, and to the fields of purple flowers.

There were little stone paths around the fields, and the gentle breeze wafted the earthy scent to Lavender’s nostrils. It felt pleasant and familiar at the same time. Why was it familiar to her?

“I want to go by the name of the flowers here. What were they called again?” Lavender asked the sisters. Helga looked shocked for a moment, with Agnes equally as so.

“They’re called patchouli. I assume you want to be called Patchouli, correct?” Sister Helga asked.

Lavender, no, Patchouli, answered, “Yes. I would like to be called Patchouli, if that’s okay.”

The two sisters nodded, “Alright then,” Agnes said, “we’ll file you in as Patchouli Gimle in the documents.”

Patchouli nodded. Being referred to as a name that isn’t the one her mother gave her at birth made her feel happy. She could get used to this name with time.

Sitting down next to the field, Patchouli reminisced about her life so far. She only lived ten years so far, but those ten years were filled with neglect from those who were meant to love her. This was the first time a person of authority treated her like a person, and not just a ghost. The only person who actively paid attention to her was Primrose, and now Patchouli has no clue when she will get to meet her older sister again. Given their five-year age gap, and how Patchouli was treated by the rest of her family, one would expect Primrose to also ignore her little sister. Primrose knew better than that, having had more time spent with their loving father before his exile. She doted on Patchouli in private, and was the only one that truly cared for her in that forsaken mansion.

“You look like you’re about to cry, are you alright?” Agnes knelt down next to Patchouli, reaching out a hand to rub her back. The sensation made tears flow from her eyes, as silent tears flown down her cheeks. Agnes grabbed a hankerchief, wiping the tears. “You must’ve had a hard live before you came here, didn’t you? Don’t worry, we’re here for you. Cry the tears you need to cry, we have time.”

So Patchouli sobbed, sobbing into the hankerchief that Agnes gave her. She sobbed so hard that snot came out of her nostrils, and she sobbed and sobbed until the tears no longer flowed.

Once she was done with her crying, Patchouli looked up at the two Sisters. “Thank you… thank you both so much.”

“Oh, you poor girl,” Sister Helga embraced the young girl, “you must’ve had such a hard life if something like this is enough to make you cry. Don’t worry, we’ll be here for you.”

After a while, Patchouli got up, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. “I think I’m done here, can we go to the kitchen?”

The two sisters nodded, beckoning Patchouli to follow them back into the church and to the kitchen part of the annex.

When the three arrived, the kitchen was relatively quiet. Nobody was in there other than the two sisters and the young girl. Helga grabbed a cup from the cabinets, filling it with water and giving it to Patchouli. “Here, have some water,” she said, “Don’t worry if you drop it, this is a plastic cup. It won’t shatter on the ground if dropped. If you’re worried about possibly dropping it, then there’s a table over there where you can drink it.” Helga gestured to the small circular table with a few chairs nearby, where Patchouli went to sit down.

Patchouli drank the water from the cup cautiously. Even though she knew it was unlikely for the sisters to get mad at her, she still remembers how her mother exploded at her when she dropped a plate on accident. Hopefully, with time, she won’t be so afraid of dropping glassware, but for now it still scares her even if it’s purple-hued plastic.

After Patchouli finished drinking the water, she went to the sink to put it in, looking at Helga for assistance.

“Do you need help?”

After nodding in confirmation, Helga walked over to show Patchouli how to clean the cup; grabbing dish soap, a brush, how to scrub the cup, rinse it, and put it on the drying rack next to the sink. It was something foreign to Patchouli, given how her mother had servants to clean, but Patchouli enjoyed it. She often spent time with the servants, they pitied her enough to be somewhat kind to her. The time one of them peeled a fruit and gave it to her to scarf down since she seemed hungry is a memory she fondly holds onto. How is she, anyway? Hopefully she didn’t get in trouble with mother because of her.

●●●

It was quite the day for Patchouli. Picking out a new name for herself, experiencing genuine kindness from those who barely knew her, and being around people who gave a care was quite overwhelming. But now, it was time to do something that Patchouli was reluctant to do: burn the clothes she came to the church wearing.

It was the only color she was allowed to wear throughout her childhood, that emotionless beige tone. Patchouli hated it. If her mother could get away with it, her hair and horns would be mutilated into those depressing hues too. The sisters of the church were willing to help her burn the clothes, as they had a bonfire on the church grounds.

Placing the folded dress upon the charred wood, Patchouli waited for Sister Agnes to cast the spell. The spell that would set the clothes aflame. Stepping a few paces back as to not get burned, she waited in anticipation of what would occur.

“Are you sure about this, Patchouli?” Agnes asked. With a nod of assurance, she extended her right hand to cast the spell. With no words said, a rune showed up above the beige dress, and soon it was covered in flame.

Patchouli could only look at the clothes in contempt. Burning those clothes meant that her mother no longer had control over her, and that Patchouli could have a life that wasn’t controlled by her tyrrany. No more Lavender. Lavender died long ago. Now, she is Patchouli Gimle.

(Want to watch me write more of this story? Follow me on Twitch, if I don't have an appointment I write things on Wednesdays starting at 13:00 EST/GMT-5)

[pixeldistractions]

Only bring what you can carry, he said. So Maria packed as little as she could imagine and she still couldn’t carry all of that. Never mind that Johanna was too small to pull her own suitcase.

They’d be back in December to decide what to do with the rest of the house. They had until the end of her lease in February to decide. That was for the best maybe. Maria was under no illusions about Jordan’s track record of indecisiveness, and if she intended to bind herself to that runaway train, she would do it mindfully. It was wild and unhinged and completely instinctual, but also, Maria had never felt so adult, making this decision for herself and her little girl. They all might have their opinions, but nobody could tell her what to do. And she didn’t feel wrong for it, no matter what a runaway train he might be. For a man who had so little in the way of monetary possessions, she never felt more protected than in his arms. If he said they would be okay, then she would believe him.

Knock, knock. Lou was at the door.

Lou made a face at the disarray of semi-packed suitcases on the floor. “So you’re really doing it?”

Maria didn’t answer that question.

“How am I gonna stop by to see you after work?”

“Guess you’ll have to get on a train,” Maria said with as snotty a tone as she could muster.

She went back to the floor to continue her packing, but she didn’t end up moving a single thing.

“I know how you feel,” Maria said. “I really do. A lot has happened since, but when he first told me, I was heartbroken. It’s like, this whole person is part of your life for so long, and then they decide to just go? I guess that’s what I’m doing too, isn’t it? It’s pretty shitty, I know it is. But people can’t stand still around you forever. People change and grow and move, and you can move with them or let them go. But we’ll be back. And you’re single and child-free and not broke. You can visit us, too. You should travel more, there’s a whole world to see. And you’re welcome with us any time. We’re still family.”

“God, you’re so sappy,” Lou said, wiping her eyes. “Why is my face leaking?”

“Aw, I love you too.”

Lou came to sit on the floor next to piles of folded laundry and unmarked boxes. Her nose tickled with dust.

“Please don’t tell Mom and Dad yet,” Maria begged. “Give me a week or two?”

“Don’t you think they’ll notice when you don’t need them to watch JoJo while you work?”

“I was going to bring JoJo out to see Jordan next month,” Maria said. “I’ll just say we went early.” 

“They’re going to miss her. They’ll be sad.”

“I don’t know about sad,” Maria said. “Mom thinks I’m a burden.”

“She never said that.”

“She doesn’t have to say it. She would never. Joseph died a war hero, so she so can’t say it because she doesn’t want to look bad. But I know she wished I never got married and knocked up and widowed at twenty-one in the first place, then she wouldn’t be honor bound to help me. She thinks I’m a wreck. She already raised her children, and she never wanted to help raise a grandchild, too. Well, now she doesn’t have to worry about us anymore.”

“Well, damn, sis. I don’t know about all that, but she’s still gonna worry, for sure! Just like, don’t get knocked up again.” 

“Ha ha,” Maria snarked.

“I’m serious,” Lou said. “There was a birth control recall! You need to refill it.”

“Oh.” 

“Okay.” Lou took a breath and sat up tall. Lawyer mode activated. “So you need to bring JoJo’s birth certificate, and Joseph’s death certificate, too. Did you put a hold on your mail? Do you want to give me a key to check up on things? Put travel alerts on your credit cards. Auto pay your rent while your gone. Pay your own way, and keep your money separate from his. Holy shit, you crazy fool. What the fuck are you gonna do in Nevada?”

Maria grinned. “I don’t know yet. I have no idea!”

“Thank you,” Maria said, ambushing her with a hug. Having her sister’s blessing meant the world to her, even if she never listened to a damn thing her sister ever said.

— from “boxes and squares #4.5: home is wherever you are, part 3” (9/11)

story notes: I always felt Maria had a little tension with her parents. She’s not as close to them as Lou is, or as close as she is to Lou. So now we know why?

Next -> // 4.5 start // index

[15ktherapy]

my sisters being annoying UNDER CUT TIME

it’s blabber time aight ?

I sleepy fornelije so many fucking hours I slept was so long hate that ahit it always makes me feel weird and in the bad way ummmmmm okay so. my dreams are always rlly like. okay lookaybe you know maybe you don’t but like in tv shows or whatever ppl will talk about being able to realize when ur dreaming and being able to do things. I don’t dream like that never have. iiiiiiiiiiiiiii. it’s like memories or being strung along in a story. nothing changes you aren’t rlly conscious what happens happens and that’s that. okay so dreams. don’t really remember tyem bc I woke up Hour s ago. ONE. BUGS. IN MY BATHTUB. big ones. TWO. people kept giving me money like hundred of dollars it’s like are you meaning to give me this much money ? what de fawk. anyway side note three dollar bills existed in my dreams. also 120 dollar bills. strange. anyway THREE!!! most the reason i put this under a cut. deals with my cats yknow the missing probably dead ones? those ones yeahX You’ve been warned. THREE. DEAD CAT. POOR LITTLE LEMMYS DEAD ON MY FAWKING LAWN. I blame this dream on my dad being annoying yesterday. umm all these dream were rehashings of big thinsg yesterday— 1bugs- my sisters got a literal bug collection she kept showing it off. umm also half I play hollow knight a lot and that’s bug game— 2money— talked about wtttibg a job yesterday with both my parents— 3DEAD CAT— so me my mom and my sis are all VERY SURE what happened to our cats (and another poor guys poor cat) and my dad is Really Fucking Annoying about it because he’s just like that in general. so me mom and sis all DISTINCTLY remember this one fucking guy making “jokes” about how he liked to poison cats and or eat them what fucking ever when we moved in SECEN YEARS AGO. and it’s like back then it’s like Okay Keep Cats Away From That Man. also Hopefullky He’s Joking. anyway so years later THREE FUCKING CATS GO MISSING IN THE SPAN OF A FUCKING WEEK. my cat maggie and another guys cat inky (maggie and inky seemed to be friends btw. very sad that this was only noticed AFTER THEY DISAPEERED.) anyway so they disappear at the same time, because of that I’m like DEAR GOD CAN WE PLEEASE FUCKING KEEP LEMONS INSIDE??? MAGGIES BEEN GONE FOR DAYS AND THIS OTHER CAT IS GONE TOO? we need to keep her inside. she does not stay inside. a week after maggie disappears so does my little lemmy. I spend hours looking outside for her and nearly rip my moms boyfriends head off. I take a shower and cry a lot. anyway. months later back to the present— we’re pretty sure what happened to our cats, eggs have been thrown, yada yada. so it’s yesterday my dads here he’s annoying some how cats come up again and we spend like ten minutes talking about our dead cats and how we know it was our neighbors and my dad being stupid like “it probably wasn’t though” IM AORRY WHO LIVES HERE??? and who doesn’t??? who’s cats died??? kys. anywya so I blame my dead cat dream and. THE ONE OTHER THING I REMEMBER FROM THAT DREAM SECTION “well looks like you were right.” I AM SO MAD. coughs anyway next time I see my dad in probably chewing him out for that

[empressofthesunwriter]

Friendly Faces Everywhere

Codename Dovahkiin Part 2

Now that the Stick of Truth RPG is over it's time for N.K. to face the normal everyday life of South Park.

She should have known nothing in South Park is ever normal!

Day to day the craziness of this supposed quiet little mountain town she has to combat now.

Thank god, she has Tammy, Wendy, her boys, and her Social Media/Magical Girl Powers on her side.

This gonna be a wild ride!

Main Pairing: New Kid/Kenny McCormick/Kyle Broflovski

Chapter 6: Head empty, only confusion

I can’t believe how time has flown so fast.

In a few days, it’s Christmas.

My family broke their record of staying in one place.

It’s an incredible feeling. Celebrating this year in a town, which has become my home, and not in a stinky Motel room like last year.

Also, it’s the only time in the year I love snow.

Snow on Christmas Day is perfect.

I’m right now with Leo. We are building a snowman together before our houses.

“It’s awesome that we can play today big sis!”, say’s Leo happily.

“I agree. Leo, I’m sorry that I was so distant the last few days just…I didn’t want to make it awkward with me dating Heidi and being close to Stan’s Gang still.”, I confess ashamed.

Yes, call me a coward. I practically abandoned my male friends, because I couldn’t handle the unpleasant atmosphere, which was born between us since I "broke up" with Kyle and Kenny and started dating Heidi.

I did it also in respect for Heidi.

I know she is unsure about my feelings for her since I was so hung up on the two boys.

Being distant seemed the right way.

“No I kind of get it.”, tells Leo. “Kyle and Kenny are really sad about this, but also give the other the fault for this. They had a big fight and aren’t talking with each other.”

I wince at this.

Exactly that I didn’t want to happen, but whatever I do, someone gets hurt.

This sucks ass.

“How are the guys…be truthful to me.”, I beg Leo.

He frowns, while he puts the stones for our snowman eyes on the head.

“Well…Kyle is trying his hardest to save the living room, to get the family together again. I think Stan helps him. Kenny is taking care of Karen and Eric is busy with his Youtube account. I think they are okay, don’t worry so much big sis. You made your decision and they will learn to live with it.”

A soft smile forms on my lips and I pet Leo’s head.

“You are so positive, Leo. Never lose this okay?”

“Don’t worry, big sis. How is it going between you and Heidi?”

Hearing my girlfriend’s name fills me instantly with joy. I can easily forget what emotional disaster I created.

“Pretty good. Really, really good. I’m happy when I’m with her and I miss her when she is away. I think…it can be something for a long time.”, I confess.

“Woah, neato. Could you imagine marrying Heidi?”

…Oh, this is a question I didn’t expect.

Can I image it?

It’s a beautiful sunny day.

Not too cold not too warm.

The cute little church is filled with colorful flowers.

All my friends are sitting on the benches.

I’m holding into my Papà arm.

He leads me down the aisle.

There she waits for me.

Heidi.

A vision in her wedding dress.

But as I reach her, all start to shake and twist and turn.

Heidi isn’t waiting anymore for me at the altar.

It’s…Kenny…and…Kyle!

I see Stan besides Kyle holding a little boy in his arms.

Beautiful red curls.

An adorable cherubic-like face.

One eye is blue, the other green.

The little boy seems to stare into my soul…

“N.K.! Big sis! Are you all right?”

Leo’s voice drags me back from…this vision I had?

What was that?

I blink rapidly at him, and he doesn’t know if he should touch me to stabilize me or not.

In the end, he grips my shoulders.

Whatever I experience right now…it’s gone like fog with the first sun rays.

“Sorry, Leo, didn’t want to worry you.”, I gasp for air, petting one of his hands. “Maybe it’s time to go home. I still don’t like the cold.”

I can see how Leo isn’t convinced. He practically demands that he escort me the few meters to my house.

For that, I ruffle his hair.

He is such a cutie.

We part, with the promise to see us soon.

The next day I’m taking a walk with Heidi.

Hand in hand we enjoy the pretty Christmas decoration the town put up.

“Did you get all your Christmas presents?”, asks me Heidi curious

“Yeah, what I stress I tell you.”, I chuckle and swing our hands. “I…I never had so many friends as I have them here in South Park.”

“You are so strong N.K., I can’t imagine moving so often and leaving all my friends behind. You deserve to have a lot of friends.”

“And a super cute and wonderful girlfriend.”, I flirt.

Heidi giggles cutely, as I kiss the crown of her head.

We walk past the little Eletronik Shop which has like in the movies TVs in the sales windows.

I would have ignored what the TVs are playing if I didn’t suddenly hear Kyle’s voice.

Surprised I stop to watch what is on the TVs.

It shows Kyle in his living room, wearing a white shirt that has written on it #savethelivingroom.

“Please, tune in and help get America's families back in the living room.”

What the fuck, why is Cartman’s stupid commentator window also up? Of course, he calls Kyle a douchebag.

An announcer ends this spot with the words: “It's all live and it's all magical. It's the Washington Redskins Go Fuck Yourself Holiday Special.”

…The fuck?!

“N.K., are you all right?”, ask Heidi worried.

“Just…peachy, love.”

“Are you sure? Your left eye is twitching.”

Indeed it is. I try to stop it.

“I’m just… surprised that’s all. Also, I have a feeling Cartman is planning something, I felt in my gut.”, I admit.

Heidi gives me a look.

“And…you are totally angry that Kyle didn’t ask for your help and has gone to other people with his #savethelivingroom agenda. And now it seems they are using him and you want to start swinging. Especially at Cartman.”

Damn, Heidi is good! She really knows me well.

I sign and lead her away from the shop.

“Let’s just keep going. That’s not my problem what the boys do or not do.”

“I don’t want that you ignore your friends for me.”, she mumbles, facing the ground. Shit, I don’t want her to feel bad! “I know you ignore them mostly for me, but N.K. they are still your friends. You should help them if needed.”

I gulp, shaking my head.

“You are more important.”

“But N.K.-“

“No, Heidi, love, it’s okay.”

In silence, we continue our walk. Anyone tormented with their own thoughts.

Later I’m sitting in the living room looking at Twitter. I can’t believe that the fat asshole is trending so much!

He has nearly a high reach like when I use my Social Media Powers.

Unbelievable!

Mamma steps into the living room and puts a platter of fresh-baked cookies on the couch table.

Normally I would start eating them like a man starved, but…I just can’t.

What, Heidi said that I shouldn’t ignore my friends for her, and the wish in me to help them is going in circles in my brain.

“N.K., gumdrop, you don’t want a cookie?”, wonders Mamma surprised. “These are your favorite chocolate chip cookies.”

I put my phone away, shaking my head.

“Not hungry.”

“That’s your code for: I’m overthinking something and don’t know how to handle it.”, Mamma points out and I whine.

She is right.

“Wanna tell me what is going on?”

Not like I have to lose something.

“Mamma you know that I’m dating Heidi?”

“Hard not to since you presented her to your Papà and me.”

She sits down beside me on the couch stroking my hair.

“Yeah, right of course. You know…I had this huge crush on Kenny and Kyle. I couldn’t decide who I liked better and made a mess.”, I nearly cry, leaning on Mamma. “I know Heidi is insecure that I really like her and that’s why I ignored pretty much the boys. But now I have a feeling they need my help, but I also feel like I will betray Heidi this way.”

My Mamma hmms thoughtfully, hugging me to herself and I fall formally into her embrace.

“Did you talk with Heidi about this?”

“Not in so many words, but she said to me I shouldn’t ignore my friends.”

“Then listen to her.”

“But Mamma-“

“Now N.K. I know you don’t wanna hurt anybody, but if you don’t listen to what others say it will for sure happen. Believe in Heidi and that your relanteship is strong enough to have a friendship with the boys. You choose Heidi so committed to it.”

Tears fell down my cheeks and I huge my Mamma tight.

“Mamma…I think I love Kenny and Kyle…”, I confess in a tiny voice, ready to break apart. “I like Heidi, I really do…but I can’t stop thinking about Kenny and Kyle. I want them so much it hurts…”

“Oh my little princess.”, cooe Mamma kissing the crown of my head. “You stay away from them because you are scared you will cheat on Heidi, is that it?”

I can only nod, crying harder.

Mamma sings softly to me my favorite nursery rhyme from when I was little, rocking me back and forth in her arms.

“My little baby…why don’t you try polyamory?”, ask me, Mamma.

I hear a record scratch.

Did I hear her right?

I look up at her shocked.

“Mamma?”

“I…I never told you this but…I grow up with a mother and two fathers.”, let’s Mamma the bomb drop.

My chin meets the floor.

That’s…that’s the first time Mamma has talked about her family. When in the past I asked about them, she always told me that they are all dead and she doesn’t want to talk about it.

Now that she is doing it willingly…I’m just what?

Mamma strokes my hair and continues to tell me this: “You are a lot like your grandma, you know. No wonder you inherit her polyamory tendencies from her too. She told me when I was a little girl that she fall in love with my biological father and my dad at the same time. Your grandma couldn’t decide either who she liked more, because she loved both my fathers equally. So they decide to be together all three. Well, my two fathers never fall in love with each other, but they became best friends, and the love for my mother and then for me united them. Polyamory can also work if two of the party stay just friends.”

This…is a lot to unpack.

My mother notes that I’m practically having a crisis, so she hugs me tight.

“Maybe I confused you more with this…but N.K. I want you to know that if you truly talk to people and let them decide for themselves then maybe you will get what you want.”

“I like Heidi, I really do, I can imagine being with her for a long time. Why should I go for the complicated ones?”, I protest.

“Can you? Who do you try to convince? Me or yourself?”

I can just stare at the floor.

An image of a beautiful little red-haired boy with one green and one blue eye practically manifests before my inner eye.

A tear falls from my eyes dropping down on the couch.

I don’t have an answer.

I’m only lost.

With a loud sniff, I hide in my mother’s embrace.

I don’t want to think.

I don’t want to feel.

I just want to be left alone.

And I don’t wanna hurt anybody.

After a while, I calm down. Mamma tries to apologize if her words were too hard, but I just wave it off.

Maybe I needed to hear that.

That doesn’t mean I know what do to.

Defeated and done with anything I go up in my room and fall on my bed.

We may have a place at Christmas we finally can call home…yet I’m miserable.

Didn’t help either that polyamorous tendencies are genetic in our family.

I wish I meet my grandma…and my two grandpas.

Maybe they could help.

I pull my blanket over my head, closing my eyes.

I want to be alone and in silence for a while. Not to think about all this emotional chaos I have.

Later, I will join later my parents to celebrate Christmas…

I don’t know how I know but I’m in a place called Denny's Applebee's Max. Around me are all the people I know from South Park. Anyone is older.

It’s a big Christmas Celebration.

I’m sipping some champagne and looking around the room.

“Nice party, huh?”, says Tammy to me.

I turn to my best friend.

She…Tammy is also an adult. She still has long hair with blond highlights and wears a really simple black dress with some heels.

“Yep.”, I pop the p with zero enthusiasm.

Tammy signs and places a hand on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry N.K., I really am.”

I snort and down my drink.

“You are not the one who crashed their own marriage.”, I remind her bittersweet. Careful I look around. “You don’t see her do you?”

She shakes her head.

“You told me yourself that she left you for her boss. They are probably at the Bahamas or some shit getting drunk on coconut milk.”

“Only because I didn’t work on our marriage!”

“N.K. you are a motherfucking Superhero who saved this shitty world more times than we can count. Heidi should have been more understanding.”

“I don’t wanna talk anymore about that.”

Like a coward, I walk away in search of a new glass of champagne. I can’t even talk anymore with my super best friend.

This job is killing me.

It killed my marriage.

Now it will kill my social life.

Why did I agree to serve the government?

That’s when I see how Stan, freshly returned from the Mars colony, enters the restaurant and gets hugged by Kyle and then Kyle’s two adorable children.

I feel pain in my chest.

After I started dating Heidi I distanced myself from Stan’s Gang. The pandemic in 2020 didn’t help either.

Kenny joins them and all three friends laugh and talk with each other.

At least they are happy…

That’s when my phone sounds and I get help but sign.

I should have known I couldn’t celebrate Christmas again with my friends and family.

My duty comes always first.

I pick up the phone.

“Commander? Who is invading us now?”

I step out of the restaurant, alone, without someone who will wait for me to return.

“You saw one way you life could go? Would you like to see another one?”

YES!

I don’t know how I know but I’m in a place called Denny's Applebee's Max. Around me are all the people I know from South Park. Anyone is older.

It’s a big Christmas Celebration.

With an I whine I rub the spot on my belly where the baby kicked me.

That may be my fourth pregnancy but this child confuses my insides for a football.

“Mommy, is my little brother naughty again?”, ask me my little Naomi.

She is tucked to my side, rubbing my belly too.

Her beautiful red hair falls in long curls to her hips and her brown eyes shine like amber. She is tall for a five-year-old.

“A bit, but I can handle it, maudeleh.”, I reassure her.

“Mamma!”, calls my oldest daughter for me. 15 years old, tall, golden locks, and with brown eyes. She walks over to us like a top model. “Do you know when Uncle Stan and Aunt Marianne will be here?! I have to tell Ariel the newest gossip from Earth! Can’t believe they stayed for nearly a year on Mars! I miss my super best friend!”

“Layla you will survive these few minutes. You did it for a year.”, deadpans my oldest child and son at her. At 20 years, he is a young adult, but still, my little baby I fought so hard for. Styled red locks, one eye green and one eye blue in a devilishly handsome face, which makes all swoon.

“Don’t be a dick, Alexander!”

“Layla Tammy Broflovski, what did I tell you about such langue!”, scolds Kyle her, giving me a kiss on the cheek and petting Naomi on the head.

“That it’s not okay to call my siblings dick but anyone else is free game.”

Besides Kyle, we all snort, while he sends a look at the blond man who is coming towards us.

“She got that from you, Kenny!”, he accuse our husband.

Kenny grins cheeky, giving me a forehead kiss and Kyle one on his cheek.

“And yet you married my foul langue speaking ass.”

Kyle rolls his eyes at him, while Kenny picks up Naomi and puts her on his shoulders.

“Well my babes I agree with Lala-“

“-Daddy!-“

“-Over there. When are the Marshs coming? I wonder how big little Jamie got.”

We hear how someone nears us.

It’s Tammy, also pregnant, her husband behind her, holding their little three-year-old girl in his arms.

“Madam President-“

“-Tammy you are my best friend and my right-hand woman stop calling me that even in private!-“

“-You are the president of the United States what do you want from me sis? We have an Alert, I’m sorry.”

Alexander groans while I pet his head.

“I’m sorry, bubaleh, till I’m knocked up with your little brother I can’t go and fight.”

“No Ma it’s okay, I just hoped I could have at least said hello to Uncle Stan and Aunt Marianne.”

“Someone called our names?”

I can’t even look that fast as Layla formally jumps her best friend and my niece, Ariel Marsh, both girls hugging and jumping around like crazy kangaroos.

“Oh hamburgers, someone is happy!”, gasps Marianne and hugs little two-year-old Jamie to herself.

Alexander and Naomi formally throw themselves at Stan, Marianne, and Jamie, who return the affectionate gesture. After Layla and Ariel are done with each other, my daughter hugs her aunt, uncle, and cousin too.

I and my husbands also join the group hug.

It’s so cute seeing Stan, Kyle, and Kenny together, while I shower my little sister and my nephew in kisses.

Our big family is together again.

It’s so amazing.

At this moment I look up and meet the eyes of Alexander.

He gives me a tiny smile.

“Are you happy Ma? Is this all you ever wanted? Will you choose this way?”

With a gasp, I sit up on my bed and look confused around.

What kind of fever dreams did I just have?

Never in my life was I so confused.

There is a knock on my door. Still reeling I call for the person to come in.

It’s Mamma.

“Ah, you woke up. Papà and I were getting worried. Come let’s have Christmas Dinner.”

I can just nod, following my mother.

My parents tell me apparently I missed how Cartman tried to take world domination via his Youtube channel and was then stopped by PewDiePie.

What can happen when one takes a short nap.

Only one thing is clear.

I’m more confused than ever.

If someone wanted to help me…this was a spectacular mistake.

Christmas fucking sucks, my dudes!

*Twirls my fake mustache like a villain*

I can’t wait to hear your theories my loves. ;D

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