#and all the other stuff that she used to upload for free
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#theres this amazing french artist ive following for years on twt and insta#and like... ive always wanted to get the artbook but the price + shipping is just outrageous#and now... they made a patreon where the lowest tier is 70 brazilian moneys and the one with full access is 200 to see the comics#and all the other stuff that she used to upload for free#which is such a shame#she can obvsly charge for whatever her work is amazing#it does pain me that i wont be able to keep up the work anymore#;____;#same thing when authors post stuff on ao3 and then migrate to patreon#i understand that maybe 10 dollars or 10 euros isnt much to your local audience... but fuck me#conversion makes it impossible to keep up#200 moneys is what i spend on food for a week#i hate it here
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Digging A Deeper Hole || MLB ||
Prompt: Harry is going through a rough adjustment to his new life. At twenty-one, he was the face of a massive franchise, a father, and a husband with millions watching his every mood. He starts to feel it. Word Count: 7.8k Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Angst - please keep in mind H is young here so he’s a bit more immature than one shots where he’s older. He’s still figuring stuff out
AUTHORS NOTES:
There is 5 more part to this up on patreon (17k words, a 25.1k fic overall)
I upload a piece of writing every 1-3 days (usually two) consistently// currently updating abo!roommates
All writings are accurately and always added to the organized folders in the collections feature
There are currently 300 + pieces available to read
It only cost $3USD —— thanks for any support and check me out here!
========================= Harry had the weight on the world on his shoulders.
The past year had been the best but most stressful time that he has ever had in his life.
He hadn’t had a break, it was go, go, go.
At the age of twenty-one, it felt like he had responsibilities that most people never had this amount of.
He had expectations from every side, especially from work, though it sounded like a dream to be the new face of Major League Baseball, to be the highest paid rookie to start, or the fact that he was a projected to be one of the best players of all time.
It came at a cost.
A really fucking big cost.
It took Harry a while to realize that he was experiencing some depression, the pressure of his coaches, the team, the public, and on top of that, he was navigating being newly married with a baby.
++
”Styles, get off the phone!” His assistant coach shouted from the field, he should be jogging onto the mound because practice was nearly over, and everyone was ready to head back to the hotels.
“Hold the fuck on!” Harry shouts back without looking up, waiting for the FaceTime call to connect, he had thought he had more time before they started up again.
Harry’s heart leaps when it connects, his perfect baby in the camera view, blowing raspberries between chewing on teether that looked like car keys, “Say ‘hi’ to your daddy!”
Easton is too little to quite comprehend the phone but he blinks in confusion at the screen before blowing another wet raspberry towards his father.
”Hi East, look at how handsome you look,” Harry croons, trying to memorize every little feature because he’s only going to be this small for a little while, “Your daddy misses you so much.”
YN pulls the phone to her face for a moment, “I took him on a walk around Central Park earlier today and he saw a group of pigeons. He squealed so loudly that they all flew away in a flock and he started giggling. I wish I would have gotten it on video.”
”He really does love the pigeons-“ Harry begins but is cut off.
”Styles, final warning. Get off your phone or I’m locking it up! Now,” The other coach yells, starting to actually get pissed, and Harry has to resist the urge to flip them off.
”H,” YN says knowingly, it was pretty common that he was getting yelled at, “Go practice.”
“I want to be home with you,” Harry frowns, he truly means it.
”I know,” YN agrees with kind understanding on her face, “Go kick some ass for us.”
++
He didn’t get to spend the time he wanted at home with his family, the away games caused him to panic, and he was starting to have anxiety attacks as he steps onto the private jet.
Harry was blowing YN’s phone up at any free moment he got, asking to FaceTime to see her and Easton, and YN had noticed how much more he was asking for reassurance, it was frequent.
++
”He’s sleepy. He just fed for almost an hour,” YN murmurs, tired herself and her eyes were heavy, it was undeniable that she had a lot on her plate with taking care of Easton by herself.
YN did see Anne once or twice a week but she was adamant that she did not need help raising her own baby, that she was fully capable of taking care of Easton by herself when Harry wasn’t home.
Easton was ten-months at this point, splayed on his mother’s chest with a milk-drunk little smile as he laid his small fist on her neck, easily starting to drift to sleep.
Harry feels a pang of disgusting, gnarly guilt and disappointment that he’s not there to lay in bed with them, and he felt like a piece of shit for sitting in this swanky hotel room by himself.
”Harry?” YN asks after he doesn’t respond, he was just watching the screen as his wife ran her fingers through Easton’s soft baby curls, silky smooth.
Harry swallows harshly to avoid the tears prickling, “I love you so much. You know that?”
YN smiles at him, soft and warm, “We love you so much. We miss you and cannot wait for you to get home. We both want so many cuddles with you.”
Harry’s jaw clenches, scrunching his nose, and feel the pit in his stomach get deeper, darker, rawer, and it felt overwhelming as he sat alone with his family on the other side of the country.
It felt suffocating that he wanted to go home but he couldn’t because he had a contract, a job, he had to provide, and he worked his whole life to be where he’s at.
He’s in a position that billions would want to be in but all he can think about is being with his family, he would give up everything he’d ever accomplished to cuddle with them every night.
But he couldn’t, deep down, he knew that it was his emotions getting the best of him, and it’s disappointing that he’s not enjoying baseball like he thought he would right now.
“I…I’m sorry,” Harry sniffles, rubbing his eye roughly to catch the tears before they fall any further.
YN’s smile falls which makes him feel even worse, “Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you apologizing?”
”I’m not there to help you,” Harry presses his face into his forearm to try to stop the tears, “I’m just sittin’ here in a hotel room, I’m fuckin’ useless to you.”
”Hey,” YN says firmly, lips going into a straight line, “Harry, you are not useless. How could you think that? You’re providing for us. You make it possible for me to stay at home, in this beautiful home, with everything we’d ever need, and spend every moment with Easton. That’s because of you.”
It makes Harry feel a bit better, that perspective on the situation because he hadn’t looked at it like that, “I’ll always provide for you two.”
”You’re the best provider. We love you so much. We are so proud of you. Easton is going to be so so proud of his daddy and what a good man you are to us,” YN tells him confidently, thter’s no wavering in her voice as she watches Harry’s reaction.
Harry hangs his head, done trying to stop the tears, he didn’t feel good.
He had felt depression a few times in his life, the most when he was going through his struggles with his sexuality, and it was starting to feel like that again.
”Harry,” YN’s voice is soft, careful, “Are you okay, baby? What made you so upset?”
Harry wipes his face with the back of his hand, he didn’t want to worry YN.
She had so much on her plate right now that the last thing she needed to worry about was his mental health because he needed to pull it together and stop being so emotional.
”I just miss you,” Harry tells her, it wasn’t a lie but it really wasn’t the full truth, there was so much more to it than what he was letting on but he could handle it on his own.
Lord knows he had enough time while he was sitting in this hotel room alone or had a flight on the private jet.
++
Harry felt like a car ran him over, twice, and then backed up over him.
He did as good as everyone expected him to do during the games in San Diego, he won all three of the games with too many strikeouts to count, and two home runs to get them scores.
Harry was able to shut his mind off during the games, all he was thinking about was his job, and what he needed to do to make sure that they won the games - that was it.
Afterwards, the creeping feelings that had been haunting him especially hard this past month or so wouldn’t wait very long to pop up again after the games.
He started demanding a flight home the night of the last game, everyone else always waited until the next day because traveling right after playing was near torture with the exhaustion.
Harry felt like death as he landed in New York City, his bones were heavy as if they weighed a thousand pounds each, his arm was sore from how many pitches he had to throw, and he hadn’t been sleeping well when he was away from YN and the baby.
His heart was a bit lighter as he opened the front door to their home, the smell of his favorite brownies hitting his nose, and a peel of bubbly, angelic baby giggles echoed through the hallway.
Harry needed to see them, he dropped his bag and didn’t care that his cologne bottle most likely just shattered inside because of how careless he was being.
No, he was making his way toward the smell and sounds, and when he found what he waas looking for - his stomach untwisted just the slightest and everything didn’t seem so bleak for a moment.
YN turns around, having been alerted to his entrance by his bag dropping, Easton was on her hip and had a spatula in his hand, gnawing on it happily.
”Who is that, East?” YN bounces him up and down, “Is that your daddy?”
Harry wants to cry tears of relief when Easton drops the spatula, letting it clatter onto the tile, and starts to cry.
He was the cutest little thing.
Whenever Harry got home from work, Easton would start to cry because he wanted him, and was sad like he just realized that he had been missing him all day and he was finally home with him.
”Oh my goodness,” YN hums as Easton wiggles, starting to reach out for him with grabbing hands, dramatic tears running down his face as his pouty bottom lip wobbles.
”No tears, bub,” Harry coos as he steps forward, taking Easton out of her arms, and giving him the biggest hug he can manage as he presses kisses to the side of his face, his hair, his nose, “I missed you so much. I hate being away from you, East, miss you every moment.”
YN is watching with a content smile, patiently waiting her turn as he blinks over at her, his voice still soft and raspy, “Hi mama.”
”Hi H,” YN whispers back, stepping forward to cup his jaw and bring their lips together in a kiss, her thumb rubbing the stubble of his jawline and her other squeezing his hip, “I missed you.”
Harry hates that he feels the lump in his throat, “I fuckin’ missed you so much. I can’t explain how much I hate being away from you and him. I am so grateful that you’re so good to me and East. You know that?”
One of YN’s love languages was definitely words of affirmation so to hear such nice compliments really did mean a lot to her because she didn’t always feel the most secure either.
It was a lot to have her husband traveling all the time, where if he wanted, there would be unlimited opportunities for him to make bad choices because there was not a shortage of men and women who would bed him without a second thought.
YN had complete and utter trust in him.
It wasn’t ever a real concern but when Harry was as gorgeous as he was, it was hard not to feel a bit of insecurity when people often let it be known how much they found him attractive.
”Thank you, H,” YN brings him in for another kiss, “Dinner is almost ready. Brownies are also baking in the oven. Easton was my little helper but was trying to get his chunky fingers in the raw batter which he had an attitude about when I told him ‘no’.”
”You better listen to your mama,” Harry hums at his son, munching at his neck until Easton is giggling and pulling at his curls to keep him close, he loved his father so much, “Be nice to mama, Easton Robin.”
YN reaches forward, “Go get a shower. Settle in a little bit.”
Harry passes Easton back but frowns, “Darling, I can take him and manage. You have had him for the last week.”
YN waves him off, “I got him for a few minutes longer. Get showered, dressed, then we can eat dinner, and cuddle. Okay?”
”Sounds like a dream,” Harry replies because it really does, all that he wants is to be able to hold them in his arms, and start filling this hole that starts to eat away at him every time he has to leave.`
++
After Harry showers, he tugs on his briefs, and sits on the edge of the bed.
He doesn’t know how he fell asleep like that but it seemed to happen nearly as soon as he plopped down on the plush of their bed because he hadn’t slept in nearly twenty-four hours, after an exhausting game and seven hours of travel.
The next time he wakes up, it’s completely dark in the bedroom, and he blinks his eyes open to see the alarm clock reading that it was three in the morning.
YN was fast asleep on her side of the bed, baby monitor on the side table, and Easton was sleeping in his nursery on his back with a binky halfway out of his mouth.
Harry squeezes his eyes shut, putting his fists to them for a moment as he grits his teeth, “Fuck fuck fuck.”
He gets out of bed, not wanting to disturb YN, she looked so fucking pretty while she slept and Harry was in disbelief of what a fucking idiot he was.
YN not only watched Easton for the past week, she managed everything else for their household, made Harry dinner and dessert, all for him to fall asleep.
She needs a break from the baby, YN should have gotten one last night after all her hard work, and Harry just went and fell asleep like a bloody teenager with no responsibilities.
He grabs the baby monitor so that YN won’t be woken up, hoping that she will sleep in for as long as possible in the morning, and Harry can take on baby duties.
Harry’s plan was to clean the house, the least he could do as an apology but everything was near spotless thanks to his wife, and when he went into the kitchen to clean the dishes from dinner.
There were none, YN had put all the leftovers away, wrapped the brownies, and cleaned all the pots and pans - as well as all of Easton’s bottles.
”Fuck me,” Harry grunts as he resists the urge to hit something, instead slamming his fists on the countertop, and staring at nothing as he feels the deep hole become bigger, “Such a fuck-up.”
Harry doesn’t even know what he can do to repay her, to make it up to her, and the mixture of his anxiety and depression had to be the gnarliest combination because they were kicking his ass.
His anxiety starts taking over and an intrusive thought starts to pop into his brain and he can’t shake it.
What if she leaves you?
What if she doesn’t think you’re a good enough father?
She does all this for you and you treat her like shit the moment you come home?
You don’t deserve her.
Harry’s throat tightens up, it feels hard to breathe for a few minutes as he tries taking slow, deep inhales before repeating the process to help try to regulate his breathing.
He had to make this up to her.
++
Harry manages Easton by himself, that wasn’t an issue, and he was even able to run out to grab YN’s favorite donuts from a few blocks down before she was up.
Harry was currently in the living room, laying on the floor with Easton as he played with these soft, big blocks, and smiled at his father with only two little teeth showing on his bottom gums.
”Morning, well afternoon,” YN laughs as she looks at the clock on the wall, it was nearly twelve and she was able to catch up on all the sleep she desperately needs, “You didn’t need to let me sleep for that long, H. I appreciate it though, felt super nice to be able to get re-energized.”
”It’s the least I could do,” Harry replies, the enthusiasm that was usually in his voice was missing, and he struggled to meet her eye because he was embarassed.
YN knows something is off as she sits down next to them, scooping Easton up and tucking him under her big shirt where he can excitedly start to nurse - he very begrudgingly used a bottle but it was always a bit more difficult to get him to eat with one.
”Are you sure you’re okay?” YN frowns as she rubs his knee, “You seem down. Did something happen?”
”I’m a piece of shit,” Harry chuckles without humor, throwing his hands up, “Isn’t it obvious? I leave you at home with the baby and then the minute I get home, I fall asleep and don’t do shit to help you. On top of that, you made dinner and I didn’t even eat it.”
YN’s frown turns into more of a scowl, “Harry, what has you talking like this? Did someone say something to you? I don’t like when you talk like that. You were exhausted! You were just away for a week, training and playing, and have so much other than that going on. Do you really think that I’m mad about that?”
“I’m mad about how I acted because it effects you,” Harry grits back, his anxiety and depression had a tendency to make him cranky in a way that he normally wouldn’t be, “It’s no excuse. You get no excuses. I need to do better.”
”You need to stop talking like that,” YN retorts as she stares back at him with a twitch of her brow, “Everything is fine. We are fine. Nothing is wrong. This is how our life looks sometimes and that’s okay. You are doing this to take care of us.”
“It feels pretty fuckin’ selfish right now,” Harry shakes his head, standing up and trying to hide the wince from how achey his muscles were, he should do a cold plunge but he’s not going to take anymore time for himself - he dosn’t deserve it.
“How is it selfish?” YN is getting frustrated, her leg shaking slightly but then she stops when she realizes that it’s jostling Easton and he whines in displeasure.
”I get to get a full night’s sleep in a luxury hotel room, you’re here.”
YN scoffs, licking over her teeth, “Yeah, Harry. It’s a massive hardship, living in a three million dollar home in the middle of the Upper East Side. I think I’ll survive.”
“That’s not the fuckin’ point,” Harry cracks his neck, his anxiety made his heart rate feel like he was constantly running a marathon, it was hard for him to keep his composure.
”Don’t talk to me like that,” YN raises her voice, moving to get up with Easton still suckling away, “This isn’t how you show appreciation, Harry. I’m just trying to have a conversation and you have an attitude.”
Harry knows that he’s just going to continue to dig himself a deeper pit than he’s already in if he keeps talking.
Most of the time, he did not feel like like a twenty-one year old despite his boyish looks but right now, he felt like he was acting his age and it wasn’t a good thing.
”Why don’t you take Easton and see your mom today,” YN offers, her voice is still tight but trying to keep it cordial as she brings Easton out from under her shirt.
He was blinking languidly, his lips smacking in satisfaction as his belly was full, and YN hands him over to Harry to take, “Yeah, I’ll get him ready and go.”
It was a good opportunity to give YN a break but he was honestly a bit surprised that she took him up on it or that she didn’t want to come with because when Harry came home, they tried to stay together as much as possible.
He does know that he’s acting like a complete dickhead which makes sense why she wasn’t dying to spend time with him right night, still it was just odd because it’s unlike her.
”Sounds good,” YN pulls out her phone, looking down and fingers flitting across the screen which was also a bit odd, how she was a distracted by it because it was unlike her just like her letting him go alone.
God, Harry was making a fucking mess, wasn’t he? +++++++++++++++++
It stuck out like a sore thumb when Harry was off.
Normally, he was the most easy-going, bubbly, funny person who stole most of the attention when he wasn’t even trying.
It was how he captured everyone’s interest whether it was his big grin that had his dimples showing deep in the pockets of his cheeks, the way he threw his head back and let out these low raspy chuckles, or just how he nodded attentively when someone else was talking.
So when he wasn’t feeling like himself, all those things that lit up rooms disappeared, and it was hard for him to socialize.
Harry was still beating himself up the entire ride outside of the city to his mother’s house, Easton was napping in the back and this would be a nice sleep before the excitement of Nana’s house.
Harry was replaying everything with YN, from the way he was sharp with her to get short with her when she did absolutely nothing to deserve that from him because she was so fucking good to him - all the time.
YN never complained about anything.
She never complained about being at home with the baby alone.
YN never tied to guilt Harry because he was away during the season so much.
It makes it so much worse that he’s not able to hold his shit together even just for YN, he didn’t want her to worry about his mental health, that’s the last thing she needed on her plate.
He was going to figure this out himself.
It wasn’t that he didn’t feel like he couldn’t talk to her, it was more that he knew she cares so much that it might upset her or make her worry when he’s on the road, all he wants for her is to focus on Easton and herself.
Harry normally loves going up to his mom’s, a little lake house that he had bought her with one of his first paychecks, despite how much she huffed and puffed, he knew that it was a dream of hers to live on the water.
It was the least he could do after she did so much to make his dreams come true.
However, despite Harry getting a decent amount of sleep, he felt bone tired and just drained was the best way to explain it - he felt like all the energy that he normally feels has been sucked clean out of him.
He wanted to turn the car around, go home, crawl into bed with YN and Easton, and not have to interact with anyone else for at least a week but that wasn’t possible with his schedule.
Harry should be enjoying his time right now.
They have an off week which meant that he had nearly two and a half weeks at home because the following week were games at their home stadium so he could be home every night.
Harry just couldn’t wait for this season to be over.
And that thought alone alarmed him because he fucking loved baseball, he loved being the best of the best, he loved all the recognition he got but right now his desire was lower than it’s been in a really long time.
When he pulls down the long driveway, a house sat back off the residential road where she had neighbors but there was a good amount of distance between the them to give privacy and seclusion.
He sees that there are multiple cars in the driveway which makes Harry groan because he didn’t realize that his mom was going to call over friends and family since he was coming to visit.
Anne did that sometimes, when Harry called saying that he’d be up, she would call aunts, uncles, relatives, and close friends to come for a barbecue, and it was the last thing he wanted right now.
He was already a bit peeved that his mother didn’t ask him first because he would have very clearly told her that he wasn’t in the mood to entertain people, to answer questions, and talk about baseball for a good five hours.
When Harry opens the back door, Easton’s already awake and smiling at his father with a gummy smile, his two bottom baby teeth made him look so adorable but he knew that more were going to popping through soon.
”Hi, sweetheart,” Harry hums softly as he unbuckles his baby, bringing him up into his arms and into a hug, kissing his temple, “I love you so much, you know that? M’only away so that you have everythin’ you’d ever want. Miss you every second-“
A smack comes heartily on his back, right on his throwing shoulder where the soreness is radiating like a motherfucker, and he has to grit his teeth to not curse and startle Easton.
”Buddy, how much did this ride cost ya?” His Uncle Chuck, his mom’s brother asks obnoxiously, “Saw these things were going for a hundred and some change?”
Harry takes a deep breath, his patience was wearing thin, and he had barely made it out of the car, “I don’t remember how much it cost.”
“That’s what being rich gets you, huh? Twenty-one with a fat bank account and no responsibilities. I would have loved to have a life like yours,” Chuck chortles as he leans up against said expensive SUV, beer in his hand.
“I have plenty of fuckin’ responsibilities,” Harry bites back, scolding himself for cursing in from of Easton, even if he was too young to understand, he tried not to make it a habit.
“Sure you do, bud,” His uncle laughs, clearly not catching onto Harry’s mood, “Last thing I’d want is a baby with everything that you have going on. Growing up too fast.”
“Luckily, it’s not your life,” Harry brushes him off, picking up Easton’s diaper bag on his free shoulder and hikes him up, “We’ll be in soon. Give us a minute.”
His uncle shrugs before staggering off, a drunken sway in his step as he stumbles back towards the house.
Harry buries his nose in Easton’s downy, fresh smelling wispy curls to steady his breathing, he feels a bit emotional as he talks to his son.
“M’sorry, East. Daddy doesn’t feel good right now,” Harry swallows hard, squeezing his eyes shut, “I just have to pull it together. God, I love you. My baby.”
Harry gives himself another minute of grounding before taking a deep exhale and shutting the door, walking towards the house.
Everyone was on the back patio, sipping on drinks, and cheering when they saw him.
Dread settles heavy in Harry’s stomach as his family members as they start asking him about his games, wanting to recap every play he’s made, his sponsorships and his much he’s getting paid.
Harry’s trying to keep up the conversation but all he can think about is how much he didn’t want to be there, and he should have just taken Easton to the park or something more low-key.
When he bumps into his mom in the kitchen, Anne is prepping a salad and smiles back at her son - unaware of his mood.
“Isn’t this fun, hun?” Anne asks happily, sprinkling in some spices as she hums.
“Why couldn’t it have just been us? I have to be around people all the time and I thought it was just going to be you. Now I have to entertain all of them,” Harry’s tone definitely takes her aback as she puts down the tongs she was using.
“Usually you love when everyone’s here, I don’t understand,” Anne’s smile drops, wiping her hands on the dishrag.
“Does anybody ever consider that I don’t love talking about baseball every second of the day or how much money is in my bank account?” Harry’s tone is venomous and resentful, unfairly harsh on his mom when she hadn’t tried to upset him.
“Harr-“ Anne begins to apologize, albeit, a bit confused.
“Easton’s almost ready for a nap,” He cuts her off as he checks his watch, it didn’t really matter what time it was, he was done.
“My bedroom-“
“No, I’m going home,” Harry shakes his head, turning on his heel. He has the decency to look back and say, “Sorry, mom. I just can’t be here.”
Easton was currently being held by his Aunt Jane, he was starting to fuss because he had a bottle not too long ago and he was starting to get cranky.
“Alright, we’re going to head out. East needs his nap,” Harry announces, hiking on the diaper bag, and starting to walk over.
“Oh, we barely see him! Just a few more minutes with this little one. You can hold off his nap for a little!” His Aunt Jane jokingly holds him tighter for a minute and nothing right now is funny to Harry.
Harry doesn’t get loud but his voice gets steely as he reaches down and scoops Easton up from her lap, “Don’t tell me how to take care of my baby, understood?”
His poor aunt is taken aback, just like his mom, and nods.
Harry storms out without another glance back, ignoring the whispers about how odd he was acting and rude.
When he straps Easton in, the dark bubble in belly subsides for a moment- like sun breaking through storm clouds.
“Daaa,” Easton coos, happy but tired, tucking his binky back between his lips.
“Good job, baby,” Harry sniffles, blinking up towards the sky to keep the tears away, “Fuck, get it together.”
Harry had to pepper at least ten kisses on Easton’s warm, sleepy face before he’s able to close the door and get in the driver’s seat.
Harry presses on the console touch screen, calling YN, and he frowns when it goes straight to voicemail which was very unlike her.
He tries again.
Voicemail.
He pulls out his phone, trying to check her location, and it hasn’t updated in the past hour - it was just unusual for her phone to die, always on standby but he tries not to worry.
YN was probably still very pissed off at him, if he was to bet, she put her phone on ‘do not disturb’ so that she could take a well deserved nap and not be bothered.
Harry squeezes the steering wheel, reminding himself once again, “Pull yourself together.”
But in the back of his mind, an anxious thought pops in, well multiple.
What is YN is leaving you?
What if she’s sick of not having you around as much as other wives have their husbands?
First time you see her in a week and you treat her like shit. You really think she’ll stay?
Harry has never once thought like that, even when they’ve gotten in serious fights but god damn, he couldn’t stop his mind from going a million miles a minute, and it felt like shit.
Nothing was wrong.
Everything felt like it’s crumbling.
#ano#harry styles writing#harry styles#harry styles masterlist#update#harry styles fluff#harry styles fic rec#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n
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Stay!←∞˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚
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Hello everyone, I got some announcements to share and some plans for the future of this blog now that the Grand Fest is over and the news drought begins.
(LONG POST AHEAD!!!!)
I think going forward I'm gonna change how I approach myself acting online and be less "OH MY GOD HOLY SHITENWIOEDISIWIEOE GUYYS!!!"
Because to be honest with you all... I've been feeling very self conscious about the way that I've been acting online and I feel like I gotta channel my passion for Splatoon in a much more healthy and less EXTREMEEEEE way.
I am aware that um.... people have blocked me... and you know, that's to be expected of course when you are online and you're slowly building a following. Still really stings, though, and I think it's due to the fact that sometimes I can be sorta- "This is what happened, and if you disagree with me, you're an idiot and you're wrong!!!!!" When I make posts. And I don't wanna do that, and I don't want to come off as a gatekeeping fan that thinks lower of other people who might not know my stances very well. I wanna educate people and present my stuff as more of "Hey guys, this is what I think actually happened in this event. Feel free to take a look! I think this is really cool and I wonder what you guys think of this perspective that i have?"
And sometimes I can be pretty loud mouthed and stuff and I have talked shit towards certain characters. I remember one time I made a post where I said "what the fuck is wrong with Marie?" And said some stuff... I probably rubbed a lot of people the wrong way with that post... and other posts. I'm so sorry if I have made some of you upset in the past or have said some awful things about your favourite characters in the series...
As you guys probably know, I am passionate about Hypno Callie and I have very strong stances and opinions on her. And that leads to me get a bit... out of control. Callie is my biggest comfort character and to see certain people try and push this vile and disgusting event that happened to her... that she was kidnapped by Octavio and the Octarians when she was alone, and that he brainwashed her and forcibly put the shades on her, or he tricked her and he removed her memories too...
and I try to see the same event in a completely different lens... I see it as more of Octavio manipulating her in a more subtle way and due to Callie's poor mental state and desperation, she heard him out. Octavio used the shades as a way to control her more easily but he doesnt have full direct control over her because her influence helped motivate the Octarians. Octavio still wanted Callie to be... well... Callie. Plus, Callie was more than willing to help the Octarians as well, as she thinks they are cute. I do have evidence to back it up as well as articles and definitions explaining how hypnosis actually works and its limitations.
But this perspective gets compromised and put into question in my head when people keep pushing and pushing and PUSHING the other thing. Then it feels like I have to yell and get mad.... I've seen it as recently as when Blushing Tide came out and I looked at the YouTube comment section on one of the uploads and I just kept seeing people say "oh it's like Tidal Rush but without the brainwashing" or some shit like that idk. I dont remember it well but i know I saw the word floating around. (Don't look at YouTube comment sections. You won't get anything of value from them.)
Anyways, I also wanna cut back on swearing too because sometimes I border on being a hazbin hotel character and I DO NOT want myself to get to that level LMAO!
So what shall I be doing now that Splatoon 3 is officially wrapped up? Well... I wanna do more creative projects and fun stuff like that. I got good reception from my haikus for the Grand Fest and I think doing more stuff like that sounds really really fun!!! And it might actually give me a reason to finish stuff as well lol...
Like I have a God damn Splatoon 2 hero mode finale rewrite that's nearly done and it's been sitting on my Google docs since JULY!!!! I have also made plans to do a fan sequel to the Squid Sisters Stories that takes place in between Splatoon 2 and 3 because that time frame for the Squid Sisters has been barely touched upon. I'm also doing a personal project where it's basically what I want to see out of a Splatoon 4 and I've been really enjoying making that. I dont know if I would ever share it but... it's something to do for me at least.
I also wanna involve myself in the community more, I received an ask where someone said (I forgot who asked I'm so sorry) if I could do a thing where I receive Splatoon OCs and critique them. That sounds really fun!!!
Maybe i can do photo mode competitions or showcases!!! Where I choose a theme (Callie, water, Splatsville, etc) and people submit their photos and I critique them and showcase them to everyone!!! Does that sound like something people would be interested in?! I would love to know as virtual photography is a hobby I love to partake in and I wanna encourage more people to try it!
There is also other stuff i can do like going over the Idols outfits and rating them, but I don't have the motivation to do that at the moment and I know it's not gonna be as in-depth as the one I did for Callie.
Anyhow, that's basically what I have so far. I think im gonna slow down on posting and I'm gonna chill out. Or at least I'll try to chill out.
I've just been feeling incredibly guilty and kinda... sad that I've been acting in a certain way for a while. And I really wanna change that. I dont like making people upset and I don't wanna be the kind of Splatoon fan that puts down others who don't even know any better and don't know who I am....
But enough being sad, I wanna focus on the present and make sure that my future on here is bright!!!
#splatoon#splatoon 3#update#blog#long post#text post#callie cuttlefish#callie splatoon#marie splatoon#marie cuttlefish#hypno callie#octo callie#dj octavio#octarians#announcement#im sorry
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Free Thai language learning resources
I’ve been learning Thai for the past 20 months. This list is by no means complete or comprehensive, what works for me doesn’t have to work for you, etc etc. That said: I’ve used most of these and found them useful, I thought you might, too. Have fun!
Youtube channels with free video lessons:
There are tons of wonderful teachers on youtube; this is by no means an exhaustive list. The three channels listed here are comprehensive, long-running, and updated regularly; if you have other favourites, please reblog and append!
Comprehensible Thai is a channel that teaches Thai in Thai, from zero, via the comprehensible input method. They have videos from total beginner through upper intermediate/lower advanced levels available.
Learn Thai with Mod – Mod runs a language school that offers good, structured group classes; she and her co-teachers often upload short videos about specific aspects of Thai. The channel has been around for a long time and they cover a lot of topics, including grammar points.
Thai Lessons by New (Learn Thai one Word one Sentence) – lots of good vocabulary and situational phrases
Other channels I like:
Advanced Thai with Kruu Momm -- one of my favourites, Momm’s a star. Not included in the upper list only because this is definitely more of an intermediate-advanced resource.
Thai with Grace -- I knew of Grace via her polyglot channel and travel vlogs before I realised she also teaches Thai. Fun stuff.
Kat talks Thai -- I believe Kat is more active on instagram (@kattalksthai), but these are still really neat.
Perth Nakhun’s Basic Thai playlist
Honourable mentions because they’re interesting and can be nice supplements (yes, the video titles on these channels tend to be clickbaity, the content is useful, though):
Stu Jay Raj: Stu is a polyglot based in Thailand. His channel is a bit of a mixed bag, but he has a very interesting approach to languages and sometimes does foreign accent reduction / accent analysis sessions on his channel (with consent and participation of those whose speech he dissects).
Thai Talk with Paddy: Paddy is an Australian who learned Thai when he was a volunteer in Thailand, he’s kept it up. Fun things about language learning and culture
Listening comprehension
I’m assuming many folks on here who are interested in Thai already watch some Thai shows (yes I’m stereotyping but also this is tumblr), which means you’re spending time listening to Thai.
If you’re not:
Netflix, Youtube, WeTV, and Viki all have several Thai shows with English subtitles available. The Youtube channel of Thai broadcasting giant GMMTV has English subtitles on nearly all of their uploaded series, some series are also subtitled in languages other than English. one31 is another huge channel; they have English subtitles on some series and some series also have subtitles in Thai. There’s tons more – find a rec list and a Thai show that sounds like you’d enjoy it, chances are you’ll be able to watch it for free, legally, on youtube. You can use the youtube controls (or the ones on netflix) to turn the speed down to 75% —this can make it a lot easier to catch what’s being said. 50% gets so draggy that I personally find it almost harder to understand, but ymmv—give it a shot!
https://lingopolo.org/thai/ has real-life recordings for listening practice; sign-up is required but it’s literally just an e-mail-address, user name and password. Using the site is free.
https://www.activethai.com/ has a section dedicated to learning the tones (under “Overview of Thai Tones”) including a self-test for listening that I found very useful.
Learning to read
I will always, always, ALWAYS recommend learning to read the Thai script. All available romanisations for Thai have drawbacks, and besides, you learned to read English with its “though through thorough tough thought”, you can damn well learn to read Thai. I promise it will help you improve your pronunciation (yes, really) and overall understanding of how the language works.
Learn-to-Read-Thai resources that seem comprehensive and like they should do everything in one:
Anki decks “Read Thai PHASE 1 - The Consonants“, “Read Thai PHASE 2 - Thai Vowels“, “Read Thai PHASE 3 - Consonant Classes” and “Read Thai PHASE 4 - Tone Rules” by Khruu Gaan (ครูกานต์). Anki is probably the most powerful spaced repetition software I have ever used. It’s free on all desktops and android. These decks have sound.
Memrise course “Read Thai: A Complete Guide to Reading Thai“
Other resources I used (In hindsight, I feel like I should’ve picked one resource to learn to read from and stuck with it; I think I was rushing and made things more complicated than need be for myself with my hodgepodge mix-and-match approach. But hey, I can read now.)
https://www.activethai.com/ – the site I started with. Teaches the consonants separated by class and with sound. The only reason this is no longer my top recommendation is that I ended up using this alongside a resource that helped me memorise what the words used to represent the letters actually mean because the site itself didn’t tell me, and I wanted that easy way to have 44 vocabulary words ready as soon as you’re done learning your consonants, and it gives you access to neat mnemonics such as ไก่จิกเด็กตาย(เฎ็กฏาย)บนปากโอ่ง.
The chart on Wikipedia’s English article on the Thai Script
the reference section of Thai-Language.com
In order to better learn to read Thai written in different fonts (modern and handwriting fonts can be tough at first), the Thai Script typographical styles overview on Thai-language.com was a huge help, as was throwing simple phrases things into gdocs and messing around to see how different fonts made them look. This chart from sanukmaak.com also helped.
Speaking and pronunciation
The hardest one for any new language for most folks. For me personally, finding someone who speaks the language and is willing to correct me was an absolute necessity, but I know that’s not always an option. If you’re going it on your own, make sure you check out the resources above for learning to hear the tones and those sounds and sound clusters not present in your own language correctly first.
Things to try on your own:
shadowing: Whenever someone on a show utters a sentence you think might be useful, or provide a useful pattern, or something just sounds cool, rewind and try to speak along as they say it, trying to make it sound as close to their pronunciation as you can.
try to record yourself and listen back -- yes, it’s cringe af but it will HELP.
memorising short sentences and phrases: tying back to the section above, there's a ton of youtube videos that is "phrases to use in [situation]" that are great for targeted learning if you're up for it
self talk (cautiously! don't want to cement bad pronunciation habits)
if you’re linguistically inclined: looking up descriptions on how to make a sound correctly sometimes helps, as does watching videos of folks who’ve successfully learned the language.
once you’ve learned to read: find sentences to read somewhere (twitter, a textbook, whatever) and read them into your phone’s dictation engine. See if the software understands you correctly. Adjust as needed until it does.
Websites and apps to find language partners or (paid) tutors
Like any other app where you ‘meet people’, please exercise caution on these.
italki (mainly for finding tutors and teachers, but you can find language partners on the forums)
Preply (web/app) (for finding tutors/teachers)
hellotalk (app only, iOS/android) for finding language partners -- free to use basic features like messaging, voice rooms, etc; has annoying ads
tandem (app only, iOS/android) for finding language partners -- free to use basic features, has ads
any other app or website that’ll let you meet people, like local facebook groups (yes really), instagram, etc
(note: Neither hellotalk nor tandem allow users to sign up without selecting a binary gender. it sucks. I’ve seen people who managed to circumvent this on Hellotalk by signing up via apple ID (? I think), but it’s hearsay and I have not managed to do so myself.)
Books (a book) that are (is) worth spending money on imo
Higbie & Thinsan: Thai Reference Grammar. The Structure of Spoken Thai. Orchid Press: Bangkok, 2002. Yes, it’s ancient in textbook terms. It’s not perfect, but it’s still the best reference grammar for Thai I’ve come across so far, and I use it frequently.
Random bits and bobs
Stu Jay Raj has two videos in particular that I, as a phonetics-and-phonology-loving person, loved and found extremely useful and wished I’d watched before I started to try and learn the script: Thai Vowels for Dummies in 5 Min v2 - A System Impossible to Forget and Thai Bites Extended Edition - Transliterating Thai using IPA. I realise these may be overwhelming and less helpful for people with no prior phonetics or phonology training, but they helped me so much it’d feel amiss not to include them.
Resources I recommend AGAINST using when starting out
drops/hello words -- seems like their Thai courses have been created using machine translation that wasn’t sufficiently proofread. They will assign you nouns in places of the corresponding verb or false cognates, and that’s within the first 10 or so lessons. Might be useful once the level where a learner can tell “ah, yeah, that’s … not right” has been reached? idk.
transcription as generated by google translate: BURN IT WITH FIRE. it’s a transliteration, i.e. 1-to-1 representation of 1 Thai letter = 1 Latin letter (extended), it’s not phonemic, it’s not going to help ANYONE (and those who can make sense of it presumably already read Thai and would be better off with just Thai script). Just. Stop.
Google translate as a dictionary: still shitty but not AS bad as the transcription function. Still, for the love of all that you hold dear, please, save yourself the pain and confusion and just use thai2english or thai-language.com instead.
---
And that’s that from me, friends. Yeeting this into the void before I second-guess myself more. Please append additional resources!
Edited to fix a couple of typos and errors on 2023-06-15
#thai language#learning thai#ภาษาไทย#เรียนภาษาไทย#Thai from English#language learning#language resource#language learning resource#idk what the hell else to tag this#free education#don't get me started on 'creative' 'free-form' 'by-ear' romanisations; we'll be here all day#my nonsense
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Hi, I'm the asker with the SJ magazines. I do have those bonus pages! I uploaded them here (tinyurl/3w5ssa3b) & on imgur (/a/EUYFaMt). They're part of a bonus segment included in the volumes - I wrote about it on the wiki (/One_Piece_School#Bartolomeo's_New_Wo_Student_List), but it's pretty short since I can't read it. And no need to force yourself for other chapters! I'm happy for anything OP to be translated, no matter the amount. Similarly, would you want any future Law/School stuff?
😭😭😭😭 THANK YOU!!!!
woah these are some great details??
Longpost ahead, here's a summary of Bartolomeo's New World Middle investigation notes!
SH and friends' favorite school subjects
Luffy and Zoro: Physical education
Nami: Science, Maths, Geography
Sanji: Physical education, Home economics
Usopp: Art
Chopper: Science (Health)
Robin: History, Linguistics
Franky: Chemistry, Engineering
Brook: Music
Vivi: Japanese language and literature
Coby: (Currently improving in) all subjects
(Buggy is mad about not being included ha)
Classroom Layout
The four free seats are for students who randomly join from other grades and classes (ie. Hancock). Upper left features a special corner for Uta to join virtually. (She can also sit beside everyone randomly and make friends, as shown at the bottom)
Yamato is contemplating about where to seat after transferring to NW Middle, Luffy says "come join us ASAP and let's have fun at school!*
Luffy senpai's relationship chart
Other than ones I've previously translated, here are the rest:
Barto -> Luffy: "LU-LU-LU-LU-LUFFY-LUFFYYY SENPAI!!"
Luffy -> Barto: "Do you know me?"
Croc -> Luffy: "I can take you on a great adventure. So come to my side."
Luffy -> Croc: "You come to MY class! (?)"
Kaido -> Luffy: "I'll push you down the pits of hell."
Luffy -> "Try me whenever you want!"
Kaido -> Yamato: "Become Oni Middle's representative!"
Yamato -> Kaido: "I've joined Straw hat Luffy's class!"
Yamato -> Luffy: "I'll stop Oni Middle and then get to your class!"
Luffy -> Yamato: "I'll wait for you in the class!"
-
Luffy -> Sabo: "A really kind big brother!"
Sabo -> Luffy: "Take good care of your friends!"
Ace -> Sabo: "You coddle Luffy too much, man!"
Sabo -> Ace: "And you worry about Luffy just as much, don't you?"
Luffy -> Ace: "Ace is strong!"
Ace -> Luffy: "Huff.. what a high maintenance little brother!"
Lucci -> Luffy: Don't violate school rules!
Luffy -> What is 'school rules'?
Smoker -> Luffy: "All you do is stir more trouble!"
Luffy -> Smoker: "I enjoy the school more than anyone!"
Garp -> Luffy: "I trained your ass off to make you a strong teacher!"
Luffy -> Garp: "I don't wanna be a teacher!"
Luffy -> Aokiji: "He's a cool teacher! Probably!"
Aokiji -> Luffy: "Well.. try to get along with everyone, would you.."
Backpack Sneak peek
Doing the entire page for this one.
Uniforms, emblems
NWS has relaxed rulings on uniforms. Boys are allowed to wear whichever shirt they want under their gakuran, girls can choose the color of their scarves. Teachers have their uniform too but Aokiji (probably all teachers) don't really care.
The section below are rejected school emblems proposed by students. Aokiji was lazily okaying all of them but Smoker kept him in line lol
Luffy's Design
Luffy: The meat turned out lookin' really tasty, right?
Coby: Isn't it an assortment of Luffy san's treasures?
Usopp's Design (the Kanji says "New")
Usopp: Well, this is how it'll turn out if it's Me to decide.
Nami: Great drawing but too self-assertive!
Robin's Design (She wrote "New" and drew a world. Perfect)
Chopper: Scary! What's this? Why a face??
Robin: It's cuter like that.
Chatroom photos
Lowkey contemplating about lettering all of them but I think I've kept the ask hanging long enough 🙈 These are adorable!
Lack of source has always been frustrating, but I don't think Law has a lot of extra contents to miss out on 😩 If I find something I'd like to source-check, I'll make sure to knock you, so thanks again! ❤️❤️
#one piece#one piece academy#monkey d. luffy#roronoa zoro#nami#usopp#sanji#tony tony chopper#nico robin#one piece franky#one piece brook#nefertari vivi#one piece coby#one piece bartolomeo#uta one piece#one piece crocodile#donquixote corazon#donquixote doflamingo#dracule mihawk#eustass kid#trafalgar law#portgas d. ace#one piece Sabo#one piece Aokiji#one piece smoker#one piece yamato#boa hancock#asks#mine#one piece translations
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Time for an old school blog post, Hello!
Just various updates about life and shows and clothes and some photos! Adding a read more cut because I talk too much 😊
Happy equinox everyone!! The mild weather has been wonderful for daily park walks. We have been taking our meals outside as often as we can to make the most of it before summer scorches the land and all life. The longer days allow for a lot more wandering too but the imminent return of the heat is also making the longing to move up north worse by the day. We miss the choppy ocean and seaside cliffs 😭 We love the silence and the rain and the nippy sea breeze!! it's like being suspended in early spring for half the year and a rainy autumn the other half, Ideal if you don't mind humidity, but that's what wellies and flat caps are for. We have been looking for properties to rent to show up everyday so for now we lie in wait.
Speaking of nature, a few months ago we discovered a free app called Plantnet that you use to take and upload photos of plants, trees, flowers and it will identify them for you. You keep a log with their locations and can share them too to help contribute to each local biodiversity database. It feels like a pokedex for plants. There are many apps like this one to choose from too. It's been so fun learning what all these plants are called and memorizing them! I recommend it, is like a little educational side quest to take on while stretching your legs and getting some fresh air. This is not an ad I promise lmao I just think it's neat! kind of sad feeling the need to clarify that.
This weather is also making me want to start making outfit posts again! It's been so long since I made any!! my winter wardrobe is mostly long wool coats or capes and boots so the inspiration wasn't there but now I'm ready to pull out all my stuff back from under my bed storage and experiment again 👏 I've also been meaning to share some of Nicolas outfits for ages too so there is more variety, could be fun!
Speaking of clothes, lately I've grown more and more frustrated with how poorly most clothes fit me to the point where I'm considering learning how to make them from scratch. I usually have to take in the tops and hem the bottoms but most things I try on are just built weird even if I fix the size, or maybe I'm built weird! I think it may be both. Nicolas also said he would love to learn along with me so we will probably embark on that adventure soon. OH and on a short tangent, I got myself a sort of binder-like top that flattens the chest a bit and I'm loving it! I'm very flat already but what little bust I do have has always bothered me when I dress and I've found I feel a lot more comfortable in this type of top. I'm glad I tried it out so if you feel similarly you may want to give it a go too, see how it feels!
On the media side of things we have also been watching more of David Tennant's work. We are still very much in love with him to an embarrassing degree, you can probably tell if you follow me anywhere, my likes on twitter alone give me away alksjdf and Nicolas isn't any better! if he used social media his would look the same lmao.
Since my last report we have watched and absolutely LOVED "There She Goes" we already want to watch it again honestly. The family dynamics for all his characters are always so real and refreshing!! Their relationship with their wives especially are always so believable in every series we've seen, the comfort and camaraderie, the banter and just friendship! You can tell they enjoy each other's company, it feels true. I love it so much!!
We also watched "Inside man" which was..a very stressful mess but David was incredible as always, also very hot and very pitiful which is always great, and Stanley Tucci was on it! so that's also fun.
Then we rewatched season one of Good Omens and the first 4 seasons of Doctor Who, with all the extra content like the Confidentials, deleted scenes, video diaries and more, they are just so good!! our list of favourite episodes keeps growing, season four is incredible, we are loving all these seasons even more the second time around!! Now we are probably going to start watching either Classic Who or Torchwood, along with more of David's work. We were trying to pick what to watch during dinner the other day and Nicolas was like 'damn, David is not in this though, I miss him' and lmao same so now we just watch one show without him and one with him right after to cope 😂
OH we have also been doing more historical reenactment! Since the last one in the 20's we jumped back to Regency times. We have been putting our outfits together for a ball soon and hopefully another one in autumn in the UK 😊 1800 is the farthest back in time we've been yet so it's been fun doing research, finding pieces and learning the dances in class but also very hectic. I'll share more about this soon!
Then we also have a couple of 1900 events coming soon, so I'll be sharing more Edwardian looks as well, our favourite era!!
Anyway I think that's all for now, thanks for reading to whoever is doing so!! I know this is long and not a popular blogging format anymore but I enjoy it a lot, maybe some of you do too 🥰 I will reply to some messages soon, I'm so sorry I'm so bad at keeping up with those!! I've read them all and cherish every word 🥺 Thank you for supporting my art and shenanigans as always!! I hope you have a great week!!
#personal#nips photos#DW report#of sorts tho I should swap to DT report at this point lmao#I may need a blogging tag so let's just do#Nips blogs#that should suffice
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Fuck it we ball: Charif Master Post
So a little while ago I made a Deltarune secret boss based on this dialogue from Rudy in Chapter 1
So I took this design I originally posted on December 24th, 2023 that I wasn't using at all and reworked her to fit the new idea
And here's the first sketch dump I did of her to get my ideas a little more ordered (originally posted June 6th, 2024)
Most of what I could say is already just kinda said in the sketch dump (though I'll admit it is kinda badly organized), but I should say the two defeat quotes near the bottom right aren't too in line with what I wanna do with her now so uhhh Ignore Them. And ignore the original music titles those also got changed
Speaking of the music, after posting that art I started working on her songs and their cover arts for YouTube and Bandlab. (All uploaded on June 11th, 2024)
Edit (August 7th, 2024): THESE ARE BEING REMASTERED. THE NEW VERSIONS WILL BE ADDED BELOW AS THEY ARE FINISHED.
(As stated before these are also on my YouTube channel in a playlist. Here's the link to it: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLWcBEk8qiFhUEMeydinegtXnklzvRqYfg&si=ZzYex2g-dzL-qeDv)
And after all that there was one other sketch dump I've done, which was posted on June 14th, 2024.
Once again, most of the stuff I could say is already in the sketch dump (though there's a lot more joke drawings than the first), but if there are any questions feel free to send an ask my way
Edit (July 15, 2024): I ended up changing Charif's boss arena to something in line with the carnival theming of Spamton and Jevil and designing a main boss for the chapter, so I felt I should add that here.
Another Charif Sketch Dump with a whole Two important things. This was originally posted on July 7th.
Edit (July 29th, 2024): I made an additional theme for Vesper. Felt it should be here too since she's so tied to Charif.
Here have this too since I haven't drawn her much
Edit (August 7th, 2024): I made a plot guide for her! I could've conveyed some things better, but I hope it works for what it is.
Edit (August 17th, 2024): plot guide part 3.
Edit (August 28th, 2024): plot guide part 4: the one where I'm worried I was too mean to her
Edit (September 2nd, 2024): I remastered her themes! All tracks but "PRAYERS & PLEAS" (V2) were posted on September 2nd, with "PRAYERS & PLEAS" (V2) originally being posted August 7th.
You can find a post with all of them here, because I can't fit them all in one post. I may just make a new master post when the cover art is done tbh.
And here's the cover art for PRAYERS & PLEAS V2! I'll add the rest as they're made.
#my art#art#my music#music#oc: charif#deltarune#deltarune oc#deltarune fan character#deltarune secret boss#Do I tag Kris? I mean they were here a lot so like#kris dreemurr#kris deltarune
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Man. This week.
There's a few things I want to point out again that are really cool and the first is that once you finish the story and get the radio and the lore tab and everything, speak to Failsafe again. She'll give you an "epilogue" quest which requires you to find secret stuff in Encore. There's 8 of them, and all of them are voice recordings of Maya and Chioma from when they had a normal happy life. And they're all absolutely incredible and devastating. They're not uploaded anywhere that I can find yet, I'll try and put them here later with transcripts unless people put uploads online.
These are really important to me because they keep reiterating that there was a time (and Maya) that used to be fine. It's the woman Chioma loved and her transformation into the Conductor is almost an anomaly of only one of the Mayas. The others, even other copies from the Vex Network seem to be different and fine.
Anyway, we tried to find this Maya's Chioma, but it turned out Maya already tested her and rejected her, thus killing the one she was looking for. But I really like how it's done because Chioma wasn't just helplessly clueless in this; she had her own agency and made her own decision upon realising what Maya had become. More under:
So that's okay. Dies.
But the thing is that this is true only for this one Maya, the Conductor one. Other Mayas and other Chiomas are fine. This is really interesting in the dialogue you get for the last chest:
This is the 87th copy of Maya who is looking for 50th Chioma copy. This is fascinating because it means that .87 Maya lost her Chioma and found another. Multiple others even! She mentions how she's become a widow many times over, which means she bonded with multiple other Chiomas just fine. And now she's looking for the .50 one, hoping she's still out there.
And some of them are still out there! There's more Mayas and Chiomas still in the Network and at the end in the lore tab, it's discussed is that Osiris and Saint are going through the Vex Network looking for them.
But before that, our confrontation with the Conductor! She does manage to control us, but Saint breaks free. And he said the line!
He's the only one ever actually. But the thing is, we didn't exactly kill her. She went back into the Network and she took the Echo with her. So that's probably not good overall.
There's a really nice message after from Failsafe who doesn't really want to say goodbye, but also realises that she doesn't have to rely on other people to feel like there's a point in going on. She can go on for herself. Which definitely didn't make me cry (lie).
And Saint also confirms after that Maya is still around:
And Saint being Saint:
Also from Ikora from the radio message, really important stuff:
Lore tab is really cool as well! Some absolutely hilarious bits with Nimbus and Failsafe and I need more interactions between them now:
She shrewdly routed the message alerts to her external display screen. "Nimbus, buddy—" she began. "Hint taken," Nimbus grinned, spreading their huge hands wide. "I'll let you get back to your whole being-a-ship thing. If you see Osiris, tell him Jisu Calerondo is looking for an interview about his sick bird hat. Or, no, say that the CloudArk is losing integrity and only the biorhythms from, like, a truly old and decrepit dude will save it!" "I'm on it," Failsafe said, and pushed an ASCII image of a thumbs-up to her display. Nimbus laughed and gave Failsafe two enormous finger guns as they transmatted out.
Failsafe's reaction to Eido sending her a message as well:
She puzzled next over a message from House Light Scribe Eido, as it did not appear to contain any discernable requests. She marked it for non-urgent reply and sorted it into one of her new subfolders: SOCIALIZATION (PLATONIC).
Then there's Osiris with the information that he and Saint are looking through the Network for Maya and the Echo. It's a really good one for closing the episode.
But as I said, there's still an epilogue quest which requires going into Encore again and finding "anomalies" which contain recordings between Maya and Chioma that killed me in one hit.
There's also a secret triumph this week that can be unlocked and it relates to the Whisper portal, but it's a secret so if you don't want to google around, basically: load into expert Encore and head to the Whisper portal location. The door will be closed, but there should be the Whisper exotic perk icon above it. If you equip Whisper, the door will open and then you can go through the portal which will be active. Once you do that, you'll have 35 minutes to complete Encore on expert to unlock the secret triumph and get an emblem we were wondering about last week. No need to do the extra puzzles or anything, just complete the mission.
I really enjoyed this episode overall as it hit all the right interests for me. Really good cast, loved the return of Failsafe, absolutely died over everything in regards to Saint and Osiris and how close and physical they were allowed to be on screen so much (which is, btw, the first time they've done so. We've had lore tabs and the kiss cutscene and all, but Saint and Osiris have never actually been together on screen in this way before, as all previous appearances was Savathun or them just standing next each other or just them together on comms; the level of physicality and contact and all the stuff they talked about is so important as we've not really had anything like it before).
Absolutely incredible that we got to see Maya and Chioma, what they looked like and all their interactions, especially the epilogue ones where we got a glimpse into how their life was before everything fell apart. And with the knowledge that there's more of them in the Network, I will continue to believe that somewhere out there they're still living a happy life. And Ikora agrees:
Getting to hear these two together on comms and getting so many updates and information about them was an incredible treat. They've been such foundational and important characters to Destiny since the start. We knew about their relationship since the beginning, even back in the day when queer content was really, essentially, not allowed and pushed under the rug. But Maya and Chioma were there and we got to learn so much more about them. A lot of it really heartbreaking, but a lot of it also really nice.
I hope Maya and her Echo will continue being in the story in some way in the future. There's also a question of her Vex Collective as well and what she's done to the Vex in general, but also specifically the Precursors. I wonder if we'll get more into that eventually when the Vex are back as a threat (because in a way, they have to).
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Guessing game: Farm
Context: a familial soulmates AU is happening to newly-decanted baby clone "Superman" and Ma and Pa "it's free alien baby" Kent.
The waitress comes back with the drinks and asks if they're ready to order, and then they have to actually read the menu. She leaves them to it. The Zesti does taste really good, but Superman has a hard time concentrating on the menu and barely resists the urge to glance up at Jonathan and Martha every five seconds.
"Oh, wait–can you read yet, kiddo, or do you need some help with that?" Jonathan asks with a faint frown as he glances up at him himself, and somehow the question doesn't sound judgmental at all.
Weird, Superman thinks again.
"Yeah," he says. "Um–Cadmus was educating me with information uploads. I didn't finish them, but I can read and write and do, like . . . well, some math, anyway. I got through trig and precalc, mostly. Uh, and some chemistry and biology. And, like, I can speak English and Spanish and a little Mandarin, and I know basic ASL. I don't think I'm actually as smart as they thought I was gonna be, though, some of it's kinda . . . confusing, to be honest? And they only ever showed me stuff once, I think they just thought I'd . . . you know, get it."
"You're two weeks old!" Martha says with an exasperated huff. "Those damn morons, you're gonna need a lot more than two weeks' worth of yellow sun before you're going to get the eidetic memory or the enhanced intelligence."
"The–what?" Superman blinks. Jonathan and Martha glance at each other, oddly, and then back to him.
"Superman had perfect recall," Jonathan says. "Hyperthymesia. A photographic memory, you might call it."
"Oh," Superman says, blinking again. "Uh–I didn't know that."
"I don't know how much most people ever thought about it, so far as his powers went," Jonathan says with a shrug. "Not quite as flashy as the heat vision or the flying. Actually it's a surprise you can fly this quick, come to think."
"I'm sort of . . . cheating," Superman mutters, ducking his head. "My Kryptonian physiology isn't developed enough to give me the real powers yet and they didn't know how long it might take for them to come in, so they sort of . . . there's like this . . . field, kind of, that the original Superman put off? Subconscious telekinesis, I guess. Skin-tight force field, basically. It's why bullets weren't ripping up his suit all the time and why he could, like, pick up a whole freaking bus or whatever one-handed and it wouldn't just break in half from the fucked-up–uh, the messed-up support. The field would just wrap around whatever he was touching and reflexively keep it together. So Cadmus just kinda . . . copied that and cranked it up to eleven, for me. So I'm telekinetic, kind of?"
"Huh," Martha says, looking a little puzzled. "You know, that never even occurred to me, but it certainly explains a few things."
"It only works when I'm touching something," Superman says, fidgeting uncomfortably and feeling kind of like . . . well, he guesses his powers not being the same as the original Superman's were yet isn't gonna disappoint the Kents, right? Like, why would they care? "It's tactile-based. But I can always use it on myself. So I can fly and pick up real heavy shit and hit like I've got super-strength and make it look like I'm invulnerable. No heat vision or ice breath or X-ray vision or, uh, eidetic memory, though. Or super-speed or super-senses."
And definitely, definitely no enhanced intelligence.
"So you mean you're going to be stronger than Superman was?" Martha asks with a little frown, and Superman . . . blinks.
"Uh . . . I don't think so?" he says uncertainly, not sure where she got that idea. "I don't know how the hybridization of my DNA will affect, like . . . any of the Kryptonian powers. They might turn out weaker than his were, since my genes are sort of already adapted for a yellow sun."
"I don't know, being primed to process yellow sunlight might make your powers end up stronger, on that logic," Jonathan points out reasonably. "Once you grow into them a bit, anyway. And either way you'll have the telekinesis enhancing your strength and invulnerability, and that might get stronger too. And, well, at least some hybrids have a tendency to turn out bigger and stronger than their parent species."
Superman tilts his head. Blinks a couple times.
"Huh," he says.
Well, there's a really freaking cool and absolutely fucking terrifying thought.
"How do you know all that?" he asks. "Are you a biologist or something?"
"I'm a farmer, son," Jonathan says wryly. "I'm talking about mules and wolfdogs."
"You're a farmer?" Superman repeats in absolute bemusement.
"We both are, dear," Martha says. "All our lives. We live out in Smallville, actually, we're just here visiting . . . well. Clark's fiancée. Her name is Lois."
"Where's Smallville?" Superman asks, still bemused.
"Kansas," Martha says. "We have a little farm out there. And . . . well, we'd very much like to take you in, obviously, though I don't know where you're staying right now."
"Just, like–wherever, right now," Superman says awkwardly, trying not to sound as pathetic as he's pretty sure he does even as he wonders how that's supposed to be "obvious". He's not, like, a little kid or anything. It's not like he can't take care of himself. "Like, it's not really . . . just wherever."
Jonathan and Martha glance at each other. Superman feels embarrassed. It's not like it matters where he's staying, and like, he'll find a place, eventually, just . . . he hasn't quite figured out how to do that yet. That's all.
Cadmus, unfortunately, did not prepare him to ever live . . . well. Outside of Cadmus.
"Would you like to visit, at least? Take a look around?" Jonathan offers. "It's not too far a flight from Metropolis."
"Um . . . maybe," Superman says, really not sure what he'd ever do on a farm of all places. Like, in what way is a farm a "Superman" kind of place to be?
Though he guesses it'd be politer than making Jonathan and Martha come to Metropolis. And if they actually . . . if they really want to see him . . .
He could swing by sometimes, that's all. He guesses he'd have to be careful about doing it because probably the Kents aren't gonna want anybody to know they're his soulmates, given the whole "being civilians" thing. Maybe he can just . . . just pretend to be . . . he doesn't know, exactly? Just–maybe some random distant relative or something. Maybe they have some cousins or whatever. Or just . . . something.
Superman actually has no idea how many people hang out with their extended family members like that, to be honest, but it's the best idea he's coming up with right now.
#kon el#superboy#ma and pa kent#superfamily#rinfic#kamkong#long post#wip: jon and martha professional soulparents
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Here’s Baby Poldine’s second school report!
First semester of llama school consisted in just walking into the chute and spending a few minutes in there every day until she was no longer stressed about being stuck in this strange narrow place. (It was a two-week semester) (she’s a quick study)
Llama 102 involved wearing a halter while in the chute, and being given little bits of banana peel to distract her from how horrible and embarrassing wearing a halter (apparently) is. She kept rubbing her face against stuff trying to remove the stupid thing, but eventually she got used to it, and when she started hanging out in the chute with a halter on looking like a bored teenager I knew it was time to move on to Lesson 3.
(Not sure where Pampe’s neck is going in the background. I don’t want to know)
Lesson 3 is walking into the chute, being haltered, walking out and following a human around the (closed) pen with the halter & lead rope. Which means being subjected to having your head pulled this way and that which is every bit as unpleasant as wearing a halter initially was. Pampoldine received kisses and clementine peelings every time she came to me or walked a few steps alongside me or generally did the opposite of digging in her heels and pulling on the rope.
Also, Poldine thinks cats smell nice and she always wants to sniff the top of their head when she sees one, so special thanks to Merricat for accepting to be used as live llama bait to get Poldine to start walking into the chute of her own free will :)
(Merricat prefers the term ‘teaching assistant’)
I tried uploading a 30 second video but either tumblr or my wifi wouldn’t let me :( The gist of it was, the lesson was going well but Pampe was being a bit of a nuisance, distracting her daughter, and then Pampelune spat at her. Here are some screencaps:
Pampe had frowny ears, maybe she was being protective of her baby, to be fair. Like, what are you doing to her, remove this halter immediately. But at some point Pampelune chased her all over the pen spitting at her and Pampe looked mortified about being told off by her mum, it was so funny. The dispute probably had to do with hay, but it’s so rare for mild-mannered Mama Pampy to spit, it really looked like she was annoyed with Pampe for disrupting her granddaughter’s lesson! (I managed to dodge the spit.)
Lesson 4 was all the same stuff, but with a wide open pen, so Poldine could technically tear the rope from my hands and run away to the other end of her pasture. Which was something Pampérigouste did systematically when she was a child in llama school. She came to tolerate wearing a halter and walking around with me in the closed pen, but as soon as I opened the door and she saw an opportunity to escape, she’d make some kind of brusque movement to tear the rope from my hands, and bolt.
Pampe’s daughter on the other hand is a pleasure to have in class and it never occurred to her to do such a thing, so we’re now able to do the same exercises again but in a less coerced way—instead of trapping her in the chute to halter her, I now just put some hay in the pen to attract the llamas (when Merricat is busy), then walk in without closing the door and present Poldine with her halter and some kind of treat, and she’ll put her nose through the noseband to reach the treat, basically putting the halter on herself. I could never reach this stage with Pampe—I still have to resort to wily ruses to approach her without her noticing the halter; meanwhile I can be honest about my intentions with Poldine, I’m like here’s your halter and here’s your treat. You know what’s going to happen if you choose to go for the treat, and she’s like okay, fair :)
Someone doesn’t think life is fair, though.
I have to hold Pirlouit back every time I put some hay in the pen to get Poldine in there, or he’ll go and not only eat it but also shoo everyone else out of the pen to hoard the hay. Sorry Pirou, this hay is bait and you are not the fish I’m trying to catch.
Lesson 5 will start next week and consist in haltering Poldine wherever she happens to be—I think she’s now reasonably convinced that wearing a halter is not the most horrible thing in the world (no matter what her mum says) so she won’t run if I try to halter her outside of the pen. We’ll walk around a bit every day but will keep it quick and not-annoying (and highly rewarding) (with fruit) so she continues to familiarise herself with being led by a human. Maybe she will take her education further than her mother ever did by actually reaching lesson 6 (hearing sounds that mean ‘stop’ or ‘let’s go!’ and not completely ignoring me.) We’ll see!
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Covet: Chapter 10 (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; extreme feelings of stress and anxiety; feelings of sadness; abandonment issues; allusions to a dark, forgotten childhood; therapy; EMDR therapy; arguing/raising of voices; heart issues (POTs); use of heart monitors; hemoglobin kits mentioned; jealousy; body changes as a result of pregnancy; negative self-talk; baby talk galore; pregnancy hormones (. . .but just wait for part 2 lol); reader continues being sad while she checks Jake out... but now we see jake being sad while he checks reader out lol; mild description of oral sex (m! receiving) (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)
Chapter Word Count: 27.4k+
a/n: hi, loves :) i am sorry for the wait! won't go into detail, but life is a mf beast rn, and i'm rolling w it the best i can. this is a hobby. and while it does take up the majority of my free time, it is also not my main job! so, please be patient as life isn’t easy!
without further ado, here is chapter 10, pt 1... you will get pt 2 tomorrow - it is all set and ready to upload, but i must let the anticipation rise after pt 1. ;)
part 1 includes a hell-ton of stuff that i've been waiting to write - and been waiting for you to read! eek! this chapter is the beginning of a ~new chapter~ in everyone's lives... so, strap in <3 things are about to get real interesting......
as usual, thank you to my lovely sister @joshym for being my encourager and for aiding in expanding on ideas when i feel stuck as hell lol i love you more than words can properly articulate <3
Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤 (i listen to it nonstop while i write this story.... all of the songs are pertinent to the plot and assist in telling it - either already or eventually.)
Covet Masterlist
-🌼🌼🌼-
"Conscience and covetousness are never to be reconciled; like fire and water they always destroy each other, according to the predominancy of the element."
-Jeremy Collier
-🌼🌼🌼-
November 17, 2022
After several moments of standing there, you started to feel very naked under Jake’s stare.
The realization that you were still butt-fucking-naked under your towel had you wanting to escape the entire situation. It added one more reason why you wanted to hide in your room for all of eternity.
You didn’t know how to process what had just happened. . . All you knew was that any idea of a nice talk where you revealed the truth to him. . . Was gone.
He knew now. And you were freaking the fuck out.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Jake’s POV
There was no doubting her. Not for a single second. The baby was mine and I’d known it in my heart before I asked.
I really just wanted to hear her say it.
During our time together, just like she’d been it for me, I knew in my heart that I’d been it for her. I’d known her, backwards and forwards. And, within that time that I knew her so well, we’d become close. So close that, without meaning to make it—us— more, we’d made it more.
I gave her a better look, not able to put into words what the fuck I was feeling. Let my eyes trail down her body, covered only by a towel.
She adjusted her towel, tighter around her body. Was she self conscious? She shouldn’t have been. She was always beautiful. And I was afraid pregnancy was only going to enhance her beauty. . . I noticed as she tightened her towel, the action made her full breasts spill even more from the top of the towel. I averted my eyes, willing my dick to not react. Instead, I trained my eyes below, on her belly.
And now that I knew, I could see. Even through the fluffiness of the towel, I could see a certain roundness to her belly that had never been there before. A full-blown bump. Still small by some standards, but big enough that I should have fucking noticed.
Not able to help it, my eyes scanned her heaving chest, the tops of her tits fully exposed above the towel. It made so much sense why I’d noticed them looking bigger. . . Because they were bigger. Growing. Every day. To nourish our baby.
Our baby.
I looked away from her. . . I couldn’t look at her right now. Not when she— when I. . . God.
How had I been so oblivious?! I lived with her for Christ’s sake. Was it my fault that I hadn’t allowed myself to be more present in her life? Was it because I was seeing Maya now? God. No. It wasn’t on me to watch for things like that anymore. Not since she’d told me that I’d served my purpose. That I was just convenient. . . And all of the other hateful shit she’d spit in my face that day in the kitchen.
The day my heart fucking broke after pounding in my chest. . . Pleading with her to help me understand all of it. But she hadn't fucking stopped . . . Just kept going. Breaking me. Saying things I never, in a million years, ever wanted to hear from her.
I’d let her become more in my life. I thought it was meant to last. Thought that she had become my someone. More than relationship. More than friends. She had just . . . Been there. She’d nestled into a place made just for her in my heart. Like she was supposed to have been there all along.
I’d never wanted her to leave. But she’d wanted to. She’d put her foot down, not leaving any goddamn room for argument.
And my heart. . . Fucking broken after beating the hardest it ever had in my chest. . . Shattered into an infinite number of tiny shards at my feet. I’d spent days picking up the shreds, my hands getting cut every time I tried to fix in me what she’d torn apart. There was a part of me that knew exactly why she’d done it. I fucking knew. Knew that she didn’t think she deserved happiness or some shit. But there was no use in entertaining what I knew when she refused to acknowledge the truth.
The night we’d smoked and I’d told her that I— and then she’d told me that she— Jesus. The moment had been so real, so solid. . . The words had fallen from my lips without any hint of question. Even being under the influence, I felt the connection we’d made in that moment. I thought about the words everyday for weeks after I’d left the kitchen on that hellish day.
Then there was the transcendental sex we’d had when we made it into her room that night. She’d been so wet, waiting for me. . . Fuck it all. Wait— not— no. The night we’d smoked. . . We hadn’t used protection. Was that when—?
The inside of my brain was just going fucking insane and I couldn’t— goddammit!
I ran a hand through my hair a couple of times, the other one still holding my keys. I needed to do something with both of my hands. Besides balling them into fists and creating divets in one palm with my fingertips and the other with my keys.
I was tired of just standing there, in front of this woman I’d fallen for at a time when I thought I’d never wanted to love again. . . The same woman who’d shattered me. And, now, the very same woman who was carrying my child. . .
There was no use in trying to organize any thoughts. Pacing seemed to be the only option. So, back and forth, back and forth, I walked in about a foot of space. Just waded in these uncharted fucking waters. All I knew at this moment was she was pregnant. And she’d lied to me about it.
How long had she—? How far along was—?
And why in the hell had Josh known before me?! Of all fucking people . . . Fuck!
“Jake,” her voice tore through the catastrophic mess of shit in my head.
I didn’t look at her. How could I? When she’d left me in the dark. Once again, prioritized Josh over me. Even when it came to my child. Absolutely fucking incredible.
“Jake, please,” she muttered, voice cracking on the word please. My heart couldn’t handle the sound. “I can’t— I’m not in the right state of mind to just stand here and—.” I stopped pacing and peered up at her finally, my hair surely a mess around my hot face when I let my eyes pierce hers.
But as soon as I made eye contact with her, I softened. I hated to see her cry. Hated it. And the sobs suddenly wracking her were unexpected. It hurt my heart to stand there and watch her like that.
But— she’d brought this on herself. Right?! Fuck.
As much as I wanted to walk to her and hug her, I didn’t. I stayed where I was, offering a half-assed look of pity. It wasn’t her turn to hurt over this. I was the one just finding out. Not her.
“Y/n,” I tried, weakly. But god it sucked to say her name right now. “Just— god. There are so many—.”
“Questions, I know,” she finished, walking a couple hesitant steps toward me. But I took two back, away from her.
The way her body slacked at my action made me want to take it back. There were a lot of things I wanted to do. Some understandable, some not so much. I wanted to cry. Kiss her. Hug her. Feel her. Help her. Scream at her.
But, she was right. I did have so many fucking questions.
“How long?” I asked, breath shallow, never letting my eyes leave hers.
She kept up, not looking away from me. “How long have I known? Or how long have I been—?”
“Both.”
“I—,” she stuttered, closing her eyes tight, her beautiful face contorted in what I could only assume was emotional turmoil.
I watched as she balled her fists, clenching them a few times. Then, as she released them, she seemed to plant her feet firmly on the floor— her body, rigid and straight.
When she opened her eyes and found mine again, I could clearly see the tears that had accumulated on her lashes. And her eyes, that would forever take my breath away, were daring to shed more of them.
“Don’t cry,” I couldn’t help but calmly reassure her, my voice soft as I went to stand closer to her again. Not close. Just— closer. “Just. . . keep going. Talk me through it. Talk us through it.”
She breathed deeply, in and out, once. I strained to not let my eyes fall to her chest— to admire the way her fuller breasts would rise and fall. . . I resisted, focusing on her eyes. Her face, rivaling all gods of beauty. . .
After taking one more calming breath, she began. “I’m three months along,” she paused momentarily, as if thinking of something. “Three months today, actually.”
Three months.
“And how long have you known?”
“I’ve known for about a month,” she responded, bringing her shoulders higher and sniffling once. She blinked once, tightening her fists once more. “That’s not to say I told anyone right away. I kept it to myself. I was scared. I didn’t know what the fuck to do.”
I let her words sit in the air for a few minutes, thought them through at least five times before I couldn’t keep the next question to myself any longer.
“When did Josh find out?”
Her jaw flexed as her fists bunched up; eyebrows, drawn together as she glanced down briefly, her eyes snapping back to mine. “Why the fuck is that important right now?”
Oh, she wanted to get angry? Okay.
“Seriously?” I said, my tone sharp as I pointed a finger at her. “You telling my brother about my baby before me is pretty fucking disheartening. Especially when I — fuck. You know why it’s important.”
“I’m sorry. . . I’m stuck on something you said. . . When you called it your baby,” she leveled, stepping toward me once. I didn’t move, only stood taller and sighed deeply, nostrils flared. “Please, tell me more. About how you’re the one who had to find out all by herself. And if you’re the one who had to find out all by herself, you’re probably also the one who’s going to have to stretch her body out to carry this baby for the next six months,” her voice rose with every word she spoke. She sighed, a smile shaking on her lips, yet lacking any positive emotion. “I must’ve fucking forgotten.”
All I could do was stare at her; because, in spite of all of that truth, I was still angry with her. She’d twisted my words. She knew what I fucking meant.
She just wanted an opportunity to pin something on me in her moment of insecurity.
It was definitely something she would do in a state of upset. Hell, it was something I would do. Without a thought. I was known for it. Could I be upset with her for doing the same thing? Dammit. I just felt conflicted as hell — didn’t know how to feel about it all.
I was happy. Really. Truly. Completely over the moon ecstatic at getting to be a father. I just— I couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea of it. All of the information, the reality of my life. . . It wasn’t sinking in worth shit. Though, at the same time, it felt so incredibly real.
On the same hand, I also felt completely betrayed to not know a damned thing until this moment. It was fine that she waited to tell me. No question about that. But telling Josh before me still pissed me the fuck off. . . And it would until she understood why it made me so angry.
She’d confided in him about the baby I helped her make. When she hadn’t even told me. Probably hadn’t even been planning on telling me anytime fucking soon. Because of her determination to keep me out of the loop when it came to our child, I’d had to find out on my own. By accident.
All because I was a motherfucking identical twin. What were the chances of that shit?
I didn’t get to have a moment of joy at the thought of being a father because I was too busy reading how grateful she was for Josh amidst this pregnancy. All I could think about was how she hadn’t been grateful for me. Hadn’t been grateful enough to keep me in her life.
She’d pushed me out. But not Josh. Definitely not Josh. She would never say to Josh what she said to me in the kitchen.
I couldn’t take it.
Unable to control my actions, I started acting before thinking. . . Not even looking at her, I focused only on the keys in my hand, still waiting for me to go somewhere. I had to go somewhere. Had to get the fuck out of the apartment that had brought me both my greatest days and my most heartbreaking.
And this day was officially both.
Pulling the door open without even thinking about it, seeing through blurred tunnel vision, I heard her say my name, once again choking on sobs behind me. Even after I closed the door, she continued to wail my name.
My heart was longing to stay back with her. Begging me to stay where I knew I needed to. The guilt was heavy. Baby or not, my heart yearned for the woman. Even when I shouldn’t want her, I did. And I really shouldn’t after what she’d said in the kitchen.
I knew it was a dick move to leave. I knew it. But I had to. Couldn’t explain it. So, with blurred vision and hearing her repeat my name and begging me not to leave, I continued down the cemented, outdoor hallway and to the stairs.
End of Jake’s POV
-🌼🌼🌼-
Gone. Found out about it and then he was just. . . gone.
You stood there long enough to let him walk back through the door. Until he might’ve come back, ready to make things right.
You waited too long. But when you started getting a chill from standing there in your towel, you were suddenly ready to put some clothes on. Ready to hide. Maybe Jake had the right idea to run away.
In the case he didn’t come back tonight, you didn’t want to be waiting for him all night, getting your hopes up. . . only to have them crushed.
Your heart was already burning in your chest, all the way down to the pit of your stomach, at the worry of him not returning.
-🌼🌼🌼-
You firmly decided on leaving for a bit. Follow his lead. You went about your business to get your ass out of your home before it swallowed you whole in your fears and worries of Jake.
But. . . driving sounded stupid as hell. You wouldn’t have been able to see past the clouds of tears in your eyes to safely arrive at your destination. And, as sad as you were, you weren’t sad enough to want to wreck your car. The baby’s life was the first you considered. But–then. . . you realized you had a burning desire to keep going for you, too. . . despite Jake leaving, you wanted to keep going. The sadness hadn’t completely overtaken you.
So, you’d wisely decided to schedule an Uber. And while you waited, you hastily pulled your cute gray sweatsuit (thank you, TikTok shop) onto your body as quickly as you could, making sure to put on a sports bra underneath to hold your boobs in place. They continued to hurt like hell. You really needed to get a maternity bra.
And then, after you’d fed Stevie, you waited for the Uber and prayed that it would show up before Jake got back home.
Well. . .if he came back home tonight. It was very bold of you to just assume he would. Why would he want to return? Your own mother left you because you weren’t worth anything. And tonight, Jake had made it perfectly clear he felt the same way your mom had.
The Uber showed up in no time. . .sooner than you’d scheduled for it to arrive.
As the black Toyota Solara finally came into view, you wiped your tears for the millionth time since Jake had left. The sobs that wracked your chest hadn’t stopped painting your cheeks since he’d walked out the door. Because, well, he had left you. The one person you wanted with you for this had left when you needed him most.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Applebee’s. The sign to the restaurant had you feeling the urge to do happy dance, even amidst your raging emotions. But you concealed it for the sake of your Uber driver.
For the past few days, you’d been craving their alfredo specifically. The fear of ruining it like you’d ruined so many other foods, had kept you from DoorDashing it.
But tonight? Tonight you’d decided to treat yourself, and instead of being scared that you’d throw it all up, you took the chance. Thus, scheduling the Uber to drive you to fucking Applebee’s. Of all places.
You’d been sitting for probably five minutes at a booth (comfortably, but definitely lonely), when the rain started pouring down outside your booth’s window.
And at approximately the same time, you noticed the large group of men around your age at the bar, backwards baseball caps and muscles presumably only huge from steroids. They were screaming at the top of their lungs as a football game droned on on the TV in front of them.
The rain, the jocks. . . made you long for your bed immediately. . . Made you wish you would have just stayed home to wallow for the sole opportunity of letting the thunder lull you to a (much needed) restful sleep. Though, based on the night’s events, you weren’t sure how peaceful that slumber would actually be. Or how quickly it would come.
Thankfully, the prospect of going home came as soon as you started longing for it. The young waitress came by to ask for your drink order, but you went ahead and ordered the alfredo you’d been craving – along with the soft pretzels and cheese which automatically stood out to you when you’d opened the menu.
Now all you were hoping was that you wouldn’t end up vomiting your guts up over your toilet later. Or worse, all over an Uber driver. You were taking a chance. This was the first time you’d eaten out since starting your new journey of eating and nausea meds.
Speaking of, you promptly popped a PregEase in your mouth, directly from the stash in your belt bag slung across your chest.
You were thankful for the meds, but at the moment, you were actually totally fine with risking it. The one reason being: food was working as a pretty fantastic distraction from your problems for the time being. So. . . you were letting it do its job.
When the waitress brought your water out to you, your phone started buzzing and ringing in your belt bag, succeeding in interrupting you thanking her. The reverberations felt so good against your boobs (don’t fucking judge); at this point, you were convinced your chest was bound to feel like two heavy bags of tiny nails, for the rest of your life. Nothing brought them relief, and the phone felt surprisingly nice.
She kindly smiled, bringing your attention back to her from your boobs, saying she'd be back soon with your appetizer. You responded with a similar smile to hers and went about balancing all of the shit in your belt bag to get your phone out.
You figured it was probably Elsie. She was the one most likely to be calling you at this time of night. She was known for using the late hour to openly vent to you about her day. Though, since Josh, the calls had become fewer and fewer.
Finally getting the phone out and peeking at the screen, you were suddenly wishing it was Elsie. Because, the name staring back at you was making your tummy feel like swirling electricity.
The process of getting your phone out had taken long enough, though, that you’d missed the call completely. You weren’t sure if it was a bullet dodged or a missed opportunity you were instantaneously longing to happen again.
You didn’t have to contemplate it for too long before his name was lighting up your screen again. And it was admittedly weird seeing his name with your current lockscreen wallpaper. . . A couple days ago, you’d impulsively taken a picture of the sonogram picture from your first appointment and made it your wallpaper.
What if you’d accidentally left your phone where he could find it? Damn. Were you wanting him to find out on his own? Was that going to be your pussy ass way of telling him? Or were you just being impulsive and dumb?
Once again, the call went to voicemail. Except, there wasn’t time for him to leave one with how quickly he was calling you back.
Goddamn, y/n. Answer, your inner encourager forced you impatiently.
Swallowing thickly, you went to slide your finger over to answer. Your body was swimming with an increasing amount of anxiety. But, you answered it.
“Hello?” You spoke faintly, your belly flip flopping.
He’s probably calling to say he’s packing his shit and moving out.
“Where are you?!” He asked, his voice ragged and worried. Uneven with what could only be fear. “I got home and you weren’t here and I’m freaking the fuck out. Are you okay? Are you safe? Are you with someone?”
Wait. What? Why was he scared?
For some reason, you wanted to be obtuse and not answer his questions. Apparently you were just feeling like an asshole tonight. You didn’t know. You were just tired as hell and didn’t know how to approach him. You wanted to tell him. But, you didn’t.
“I’m fine. I’m just not home.”
“Y/n. Fucking duh. I just told you I’m here,” he replied, impatient but still concerned. “Where are you?”
“What if I don’t want to tell you?” Lie.
He sighed. You could imagine him running a hand across his forehead. His eyes were most likely closed, out of patience. Damn. You’d gotten real used to stressing him out if you could guess the motions.
“Then don’t, I guess,” he relented, voice tense and irritated. “Can you just let me know you’re safe?”
As if on cue, the guys at the bar went ballistic. It made you tense up and roll your eyes at the disruption they were causing to the entire restaurant. But, specifically how they were shouting in the middle of you talking to Jake.
“Are you at a party?” He gaped, sounding utterly shocked.
Yet again, the men started screaming at the top of their lungs, proceeding to yell a variation of the words Yes! and go-go-go-go!, plus a bunch of other shit you couldn’t understand.
You couldn’t help the growl that came from your mouth, your eyes slowly closing in annoyance. “No, Jacob. Do you really think I’d be at a party?”
“Jesus, sorry,” he apologized. He let out a deep sigh, causing the speaker to rattle a little into your ear. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m worried about you.”
Worried about–? What?
Lay off of him, y/n. You were crying buckets before you left home because you wanted him so badly. Come on. You know he is not the cause of the football fuckers going ham. Don’t take it out on him.
You let out a giant sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Tried to tune out the men to your left. Because Jake. Jake was on the phone. And it didn’t take rocket science to know that you really wanted to see him. Quite frankly, you felt the need to see him.
But. . .did he want to see you? Or was he just being kind? Only worried about you because he was a decent human being? With no underlying, deeper meaning other than you being pregnant and alone? Did it make you weak if you told him where you were?
Who cares? Just tell him.
“I’m at Applebee’s,” you sighed, rubbing your forehead before placing the same hand over your round belly to trace shapes against it.
“Are you with someone?” He asked, tone smooth with a slight edge behind it.
“No, Jake,” you grumbled. Why did he care?
“Do you want me there?” He questioned apprehensively, sounding like it was what he wanted.
But why? He’d left you.
“Do you want to be here?”
“Yes–well,” he paused. “Only if you want me there.”
“Do you think I want you here?”
Why the game of 20 Questions, y/n? His night has already been hard enough.
You knew why. You were avoiding the impending confrontation of seeing him again. Just as much as you did want to see him, you were putting it off because you were nervous. There was no telling what would be said. Would he leave again? Would he say he didn’t want to be in the child’s life? Did it even matter?
“Yes,” he softly responded, waiting for you to confirm or deny.
He was right. And he’d unintentionally answered both of your questions. Yes, it mattered and yes, you wanted him here.
So, after telling him which Applebee’s you were at, he told you he’d be there soon and to stay put before he hung up. The sloppy jocks suddenly started cheering again, clapping each other’s backs. Though, in spite of them, you couldn’t help the quiet smile that swept over your lips.
He was coming for you.
-🌼🌼🌼-
There were about ten minutes between your apartment and Applebee’s, so you waited.
Just ten minutes. But time crawled.
You were equal parts excited and terrified to see him. The only plausible solution to ease you while you waited, was to watch the door. Your brain was tripping over questions and curiosities all based around him, but just like you’d tried to do all night, you ignored them. Just watched. the. door.
In reality, you really didn’t have much time to think about a whole lot before Jake was walking through the doors. Not wearing a rain jacket (or a jacket of any sort) to cover him from the rain. . . which meant he was soaking. wet.
And oh no no no no. . . seeing him like that was not good for your baby hormones. Fuck. Why hadn’t he grabbed one before he left the apartment?!
He was going to catch a cold.
To be totally truthful, you were quite happy he hadn’t put one on. . . Reason being, you could see every single droplet that dripped from his hair. . .that touched his skin. You watched each one fall from the long strands of his wavy locks. Some dripped one-by-one, down the thick column of his neck. And others, directly to the tanned skin of his chest. . . Some even trailing to a hidden place underneath his shirt. . .
He was wearing a light blue button down, the material completely stained from the heavy, unrelenting downpour. You wanted to just peel it off of him–take care of him. You wanted to remove each piece of clothing, carefully dry every part of his body. . .
Not even meaning to, you caught yourself biting your lower lip before soothing it with a lick of your lips. . .
Okay, y/n. Biting and licking your lips? Seriously?! Stop.
You turned around, pinching your eyes shut. Honestly, ogling over him in this very public space was not ideal. Shouldn’t have been ogling him at all. He wasn’t yours. But dammit your body couldn’t help but heat in his presence.
Though, the atmosphere of the restaurant did not match your mood at all. In addition to the hoard of men with their beer, the place had become busier – bustling with groups of women and men alike.
The football guys were still the worst part. You were getting sick of them–on your last nerve.
The continuous hooting and hollering that emitted from the men was obnoxious at best. Stereotypical men. In their natural habitat. They hadn’t stopped acting like heathens during the game and whooped loudly at every Republican ad that played during the commercial breaks. . . Beer bottles repeatedly clanged against each other. You were coming to realize there was zero chance of them quieting down.
And suddenly it dawned on you that the idea of having to talk to Jake in an Applebee’s, during a (presumably important) football game, sounded dreadful. Having white college men as background noise was the last thing you wanted.
You looked back over towards the door, anxious to set eyes on a real man. Only to find he was finally making his way to you. His shoulders, broad, but shaking and shivering. He kept his arms tightly at his sides, hands in pockets and arms flexing with the shivers, beneath the thin material of his button down.
You didn’t look too long, though. . . Turned back around — didn’t want to stare long enough for him to catch you. You shook your thoughts away. And for the first time since you’d sat down, the young, drunken men were slightly welcomed as they helped to keep you nailed down to the present with their ludicrous screams.
Before you knew it, his body came into your view, walking down the small aisle to your table. God, he was handsome. Even with flushed cheeks and wet hair sticking to his face, he was beautiful.
When Jake finally slid into the booth, he was still shaking off his chill. He cupped his hands around his mouth and breathed harshly into them before clapping and rubbing them together under the table. You knew you were in a daze watching him and you’d stay that way if you didn’t try to speak soon.
“Are you trying to catch a fucking cold?” You hastily questioned him, raising your eyebrow for emphasis.
He stilled momentarily, setting a steady glare your way. “I rushed here. I didn’t think about grabbing one before just focusing on getting here.”
“Why the rush? You knew I was safe.”
“I was anxious to see you.”
Your heart leapt into your throat. So anxious to not grab a cover for this rainstorm? Why?
“But you’re the one who left me,” you responded hesitantly after taking a minute to consider his words.
Suddenly, he stopped shaking. He cast his eyes down, sweeping over the table as he chewed at the inside of his cheek.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” he muttered before glancing up at you with eyes that read regret. “It was not the right decision. I know that and I’m so sorry. But I was just feeling a shit ton of emotions and I— I didn’t know what else—.”
“To do. I know,” you finished for him, nodding along to remind him he’d already mentioned that. “That’s not a valid excuse.”
He looked about ready to agree, but then his brows wrinkled and he tilted his head. He looked unsure. “I’m not sure if it’s valid or not, but it’s definitely not an excuse. I quite honestly didn’t know how the fuck to react, so that’s how I chose to feel it. Just needed to leave and refresh by—.”
“By fucking Maya?” You bit back.
What–?
Shit. Where the hell did those words come from? You hadn’t even. . . fuckfuckfuck. Nothing like fully exposing feelings you harbored.
“Excuse me?” He clipped back, voice alternating to a deeper tone. Aggravated.
You stuttered out a reply the best you could. “I–I was– I didn’t mean to–,” you bowed your head, ashamed of yourself. “I don’t know where that came from. I’m sorry.”
Really, you were very sorry. It was uncalled for.
His response was unexpected. “Don’t be sorry,” he softly said, sighing. Your eyes drew up, waiting to hear what else he had to say. You were not expecting him to reassure you. If you were in his shoes, you’d be appalled. He was rubbing his forehead when he tiredly responded, “Emotions are high right now.”
“Yeah, I guess. Except. . . I don’t really have a reason to be a bitch because I’ve already dealt with this,” you explained, motioning to your belly at the word this. “I’ve accepted it and I need to just. . . calm down.”
He snorted a laugh, brushing the tip of his nose with his pointer finger. The black hair-tie wrapped around his middle finger flashed into view. “Y/n, honey,” he started. But–you were slightly incoherent. Honey? What the fu–? “You’ve always been emotional. In all situations. No matter what,” he blew out a breath, a shiver running up his spine. He was drying off, slowly but surely. “I, of all people, would know.”
That last bit distracted you momentarily from him calling you a pet name. A sweet one at that. But. . . you weren’t focused on that. Rather, you were reeling at the fact that he’d just essentially made mention of the fact that he was the victim of you exposing your raw emotional state.
All you could think about— as you saw a glimpse of hurt flash over his brown eyes, him no doubt thinking of the same thing—was the kitchen. That blessed day in the kitchen where you’d gone full blast on him.
Avert avert avert.
You coughed, trying your best to clear the air. “I know it was probably necessary for you to go—leave. . . To think somewhere else, but . . . it did just suck for you to leave,” you admitted shyly. “It wasn’t an ideal time to be alone. Although. . .,” you sighed, watching his face as he concentrated on you. “I guess I brought it on myself. I should have told you sooner.”
“I am curious. . . Why didn’t you?”
“Because I was afraid of that happening,” you truly stated, waving your hand towards him. “I was afraid of you . . . leaving or something that would hurt like hell. . .”
He nodded, pursing his lips as he considered it. “I understand that,” he caught your eyes, his own, soft. Then, suddenly vulnerable. “But. . . wouldn’t it have been easier to tell me first? And wasn’t it maybe more daunting to tell Josh? I mean you had to tell him about–,” he motioned between you two. You couldn’t help the blush that painted your cheeks. Then, he looked curious, brow quirked. “Wait. . . does he even know that it’s mine?”
“Yes, he does,” you confirmed with a barely-there grin.
He looked like he wanted to ask you something else, but ended up shaking his head and looking down at his lap, his hands moving to twiddle beneath the table before he did.
“You’re partially right. It would have made more sense to tell you first,” you agreed partially with his earlier statement, watching him. “But I’m not sure it would have been easier. . . there are factors in the way–between us. . . people that don’t deserve to have their lives changed.”
When he looked up from where he’d been watching his hands move, his eyes met yours. You shared a look, and you knew he understood why it would have been difficult. He knew the people–the person–you were referring to.
“I see your point. But. . .,” he cleared his throat. “It’s just me. No matter what’s changed between us. . . I’m still me. And this particular situation only concerns you, me, and the baby. No one else,” he clarified. “So, just because she’s in the picture now. . . it doesn’t mean you need to keep things from me.”
She's in the picture now. . . Stupidly, those words broke your heart.
The waitress was suddenly at the table with your food. All of it. Pretzel sticks, cheese, and your main course. She set your order on the table, but you knew you didn’t want to be here much longer. Not when you heard the hollering begin again towards the bar. You were also growing increasingly more tired by the second.
“Can I get the alfredo to go?” You asked hopefully.
“Sure! You want me to bring boxes for the rest, too?” Her large gray eyes were wide and bright with her seemingly innocent youth. “Just in case.”
“Yeah,” you grinned, leaning your arms on the table. “Sounds good. Thanks.”
She had nodded and was beginning to walk off when she noticed Jake sitting with you. When she saw him, her eyes bugged out and she stopped in her tracks before continuing any further.
“Wait–,” she started, her brow lifting. “Are you. . . in a band?”
His eyes darted to yours and then back to hers before he answered with a wide grin. “Yeah, actually,” he replied. “I am. It’s called–.”
“I know what it’s called!” She shrieked, her face lighting up instantaneously. “My friends and I love you guys. We’ve been to a few of your shows. We even saw you at the festival and got your demo CD! We went just for you guys,” she gushed, not pausing for more than a second. “I was so excited when I started to see your posters all over,” she rushed out, squealing a little. “We’re so excited for your shows coming up!”
His grin loosened, his cheeks flushing along with hers. “Well, thanks for coming to see us when we play,” he softly responded. “We have some other music being released soon. With a label,” he winked, glancing your way. You blushed, too, for whatever reason. What was happening in front of you? “Be on the lookout.”
The waitress’s smile took up her entire face. “Oh, we will!” She nodded enthusiastically, watching him closely for a few seconds longer than necessary. “I have to tell you. . . you’re so much hotter up close. I mean, from far away, hell yes. But right here? Oh my god.”
You decided you were definitely ready to leave.
The guys at the bar began exploding at the football game just then, the rain was still pattering against the window, tempting you. . . and then there was the apparent fangirl who did not want to leave. . . your eyes flickered to Jake’s. He’d been watching you, waiting for a sign.
“Do you mind grabbing those boxes?” He asked politely, his smile a bit more forced now.
And he didn’t even have to ask twice before she was nodding excitedly and racing off to get him what he wanted.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Thanks to Jake intervening and then quickly getting your food in the boxes for you, you were in his car within fifteen minutes. He’d effectively taken over the bill and paid for you, and had run to grab his car while he made you wait at the door.
“You don’t need to be getting sick,” he’d explained, right before he covered the front of his face, beeping his car unlocked, and running to pull it up.
Your heart fluttered in your chest at the way he was tending to you.
But before you could feel too giddy about it, you felt weird about it. You didn’t want him to suddenly like you again just because you were carrying his baby. He didn’t need to go above and beyond—you didn’t want him to feel obligated to do anything. So, as soon as he’d pulled his Jeep up (and helped you up and inside of it, effectively getting himself soaked again), you got in and waited for him to get in.
As you sat, it encouraged you even more because he’d even gone the extra mile and turned on the seat heaters. He was doing too much when he didn’t need to.
He’d started driving as soon you got in, and you tried damn hard not to watch him drive. Because, you’d just learned, that for some asinine reason, your fucking baby hormones went into overdrive when you’d tried watching a soaking wet Jake behind the wheel of his car. The way he leaned back, relaxed, one arm resting on the console between you two. . .
So, in order to distract yourself, you brought up your winding trail of thought.
“Please don’t start caring about me again just because I’m carrying your baby.”
You heard him scoff under his breath, the sound alone making your heartbeat quicken as you waited for his response.
“Start caring about you again? What does that even—?”
Crossing your arms under your (always sore) boobs, you sat up straighter in your seat to keep some sort of dignity as you further explained. “Jake, you’ve been distancing yourself from me for months now—and for good reason, mind you—I just don’t want you to start doing nice things just because of this situation,” you sighed, deciding to instead lace your hands across your stomach. Training your eyes on your thumbs that tapped your sweatshirt, you continued. “I don’t need you overextending yourself on my behalf.”
He didn’t say anything for a while, and next time you looked up, you were already at the second to last light to the complex. Biting your lip, you contemplated what to say to break the heavy air in the car. . . you always hated when you felt like you’d said something wrong. And you knew you were very good at saying the wrong thing.
So, you decided on an apology. “I’m sorry if something I said was wrong,” you offered, pitifully. It had been a long night. There was no way you wanted to end it with him mad at you. “Really. I just—.”
“You’re overthinking, y/n,” he promptly cut you off, making a turn to the last light. “I never stopped— I didn’t stop caring about you when we stopped—,” he blew out a breath, stopping at the red light.
“I’m sorry I said tha—.”
“No. Don’t be sorry. You’re right; I have been distant. And, again, you were right when you said it's for good reason. It’s been for damn good fucking reason,” he clipped, letting the words sit in the air for a minute. “But just because I’m not talking to you or falling asleep next to you—.” He coughed. You could imagine he was shaking his head. “It doesn’t mean I don’t still want what’s best for you. Hence why I’m the one who initiated the therapy conversation. I kept my end of the deal and researched for you because I care.”
Your insides had officially turned to mush and you weren’t sure how to process that he still cared so deeply. But, he was right. . . Him bringing up the therapy showed his heart. . . You knew his heart. Knew how deeply he felt things. . . What you would continue to wonder was why you were something he hadn’t stopped caring about. When you’d been such a massive bitch. You weren’t worth it.
Heart beating quickly in your chest, you cleared your throat as he once again passed through a green light. The last one. You were almost home.
Gotta wrap it up quickly.
“I’m sorry again,” you muttered. “For not telling you sooner.”
“Don’t be. It was your call to tell who you wanted first,” he sighed, turning on his right blinker to turn into the complex. “I just need to get out of my head about it—need to not let it piss me off.”
You looked out the windshield, the rain had let up. It was only sprinkling now. Taking a deep breath, you admitted to him what you knew to be true. “I really should have told you before Josh. I know that.”
Glimpsing for a millisecond from the corner of your eye, you saw his lip quirk before he looked your way at the perfect moment. Your eyes met briefly before you turned back to observe the parking lot through your window.
“Really?” He questioned warily. “Do you mean that or are you just saying it to make me feel better? Because you don’t have to do that just because I’m being a pussy abou–.”
The snort-laugh that came from you was unintentional, but you couldn’t contain it. “Jake. You aren’t being a pussy.” You turned your head to get a better look at his face now that he’d parked. His eyes waited for yours, highlighted by the fluorescent light he’d parked underneath. Right next to your Jetta. Smiling, you surely stated, “And, yes, I mean it. Truly. I know it would’ve been the right thing for me to tell you first.”
Considering the car was still running and in park. . .it seemed he wasn’t anxious to get inside. He was content like this. . . at least that’s what you gathered from the way he’d swiveled his body to face you better from his seat. So, you continued on with honesty, while you felt brave. “I was just really scared. Scared to tell you and learn how you’d react. . . I didn’t want to disappoint you with something you really do not need to be responsible for . . .”
Then, the unthinkable happened and he was reaching over to hold your hand over the console. It was a feeling unlike any other–the feeling of his skin against yours. The comfort of his hand, the warmth, the callouses that scratched your flesh the slightest bit as he rubbed the top of your hand with his thumb. How long had it been since he’d touched you?
His voice and the squeeze he gave your hand brought you out of your daze. “Y/n. . . look at me.” You did as he said, following his soft, gravelly tone, finding his eyes with your own. “I am the furthest thing from disappointed.”
“But–,” you shook your head, your brow wrinkled as you searched his eyes. “But the way you left. How angry you were because I hadn’t told you yet–or–or before Josh. . .”
“There’s a difference between feeling plain old upsetedness and full on disappointment,” he clarified, his eyes swimming in yours. His strong hand lightly held yours, squeezing once more. “I assure you, I was never once disappointed tonight that you are having my baby.”
. . .having my baby. The words bounced around in your head. . . hearing him say those words just. . . did something to your heart.
“I’m excited about all of it. Honestly.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners with how his eyes lit up at the sentiment. “I mean, it was a lot to wrap my mind around and I still haven’t totally grasped the reality yet, but. . . I’m happy. Very happy,” he squeezed once more, still not moving his hand from wrapping the top of yours. “And I really hope you let me take responsibility as the father of the baby, because I really want to know this child. . . already matters so much to me.”
Your heart clenched at his words. . . He meant them and you knew it. Jake’s heart was arguably the most genuine, honest, exquisite you’d ever come across. So, it really didn’t take a second thought to utter your next words. “You can absolutely have the responsibilities of a father. . . if that’s what you want,” you raised your eyebrow with the word if. And at that, he’d nodded with an I do spoken quietly against the lull of the A/C.
Though, there was one thing that he needed to know. The protective mama in you — that part of you needed to say this for your baby’s sake. He or she would not hurt like you had your whole life.
“However,” your tone got serious, unwavering. “You can’t pull the shit with leaving like you did tonight with the baby. If you want the responsibility, you’ve gotta be sure.”
“I am,” he said, not missing a beat. “I won’t do that again.”
“I mean, you can do it to me. I can handle it. I’ve learned that that happens. . . but the baby. . . I just–.”
“I’m not leaving either of you alone in this,” he assured, leaning closer to you. Your heart skipped a beat. Due to still drying from the rain, he smelled like the Earth– fresh, sweet, real. Solid. True. “I know you won’t be alone because you have Josh and Elsie and so many other people, but. . . I want to be in this with you and the baby.”
“What about Maya?” You lightly asked, slightly confused.
“She’s not going anywhere anytime soon,” he responded quickly. Too quickly. It made your chest tight and a giant rock hit the pit of your stomach. “But she will understand that I have to be there for you.”
Not trusting yourself to talk with the tears gathering in your throat, you just nodded before bowing your head to look at your little tummy. Reassurance in the sweetest, most innocent form.
He took a deep breath, the rush of his breath, fresh from a mint he’d sucked on on the way back. “I really shouldn’t have left you tonight,” he firmly stated.
You looked up from your belly, blinking a few times to register that he was speaking so closely to you, close enough for his breath, now brushed your cheek. Not super close, but close enough. Much closer than he’d been for a while.
He continued, “And you shouldn’t have to feel guilty for telling me on your own time. You are the one who was in charge of all of those decisions. It’s your body. Your body that’s growing the baby. . . So, it’s your right to decide things like that,” he enunciated, his intent to reassure, clear in his tone. “It just sucks a little bit for me that it was Josh, but that’s on me. . . not you. But even with all of that, I really should not have left. That gave you the opposite idea of what I wanted to give you. . . It was just a-fuckin’-lot to process all at once.”
“Yes, and you are completely entitled to believing that it was a lot–that it is a lot,” you reassured him, regretting a few of your words from earlier. “Even if you’re not the one carrying the baby, it’s going to be intense for you as the father. Maybe even more so–.”
He made a little noise of disagreement, but you just gave a quiet grin, holding up a hand.
“. . .in some senses. Especially since you can only experience it from the outside. I’m the one who is experiencing all of the changes, all of the time. I’m reminded every time I look down or touch my belly, but you don’t have that luxury every moment of the day.”
“Yeah, but it’s still more for you,” he argued.
“It’s okay, Jake,” you smiled. “I still agree. Trust me. I just wanted you to know that I understand how it might end up feeling for you. I was just afraid I made you feel like you weren’t validated in feeling overwhelmed. Leaving made sense. It’s just the worst feeling for a girl with abandonment issues,” you chanced a look down at your tummy, feeling awkward approaching so many personal feelings. It felt weird that it still felt so natural. He just brought it out in you. You quickly covered, not wanting to seem overbearing. “W-which, I can handle it–it is not on you to–”
“No, it is on me,” he seriously professed, eyes earnestly holding onto yours. “I knew about your past and I still left you. I am seriously so sorr–.”
“Jake,” you sighed his name, looking up at him again. His jaw was flexing, eyebrows turned in. “Stop apologizing,” your lips lifted in a soft smile, bringing a hand to sit on top of his. “We all do things we regret and it wouldn’t be fair for us to hold those things against each other. . . when we’ve all done thoughtless things in the heat of the moment.” At the last bit, your eyes left his to flash at your tummy. Your hand left the top of his to delicately hold your small bump. “Example A of a ‘Heat of the Moment’ moment.”
A quiet beat passed, his face thoughtful as his eyes studied your own before he spoke.
“I don’t regret that one though,” he said, eyes so big and so beautifully deep with emotion.
Wetness was suddenly gathering in the corners of your eyes when you traced them over him—over his chest, tanned and exhaling so handsomely with every breath he took. You looked away from his perfect pecs, and back up to his eyes.
“I don’t either.”
There were a few slow, nearly silent moments where all you could hear was the sound of your combined breaths with the A/C blasting against you both. Your hands still held each other, gripped each other. His hair was dry. His face was dry. And in the secret dimness of the night and the bright light of the tall lamp outside, you could see all of the delicate markings and freckles on his face. The light birthmark on the tan skin of his cheek.
Before you could think to do another ‘Heat of the Moment’ thing (weird term, but it definitely applied to you), and do something like rub the skin of his birthmark with your thumb, he was breaking eye contact, skin contact, and shutting the car off.
“Better go inside,” he said, pausing as he’d just taken the keys out of the ignition. “It’s getting late.”
“It also might start pouring again,” you added, opening your door, trying to make conversation.
He didn’t open your door that time, like he had at the restaurant. He just sent a quiet smile your way before getting out of his side. He did, however, wait for you to meet him at the rear bumper of the car before heading back to the apartment. You matched one another’s steps in silence. It was a bit awkward now, unlike the calm, still moment in the car. Your breaths, having combined in the shared space. . .
When you’d made it inside, he told you to go get ready for bed and that he’d feed Stevie and take care of the rest of the apartment.
“You just go to bed,” he waved you off, his expression kind. “It’s been a long night and you need rest.”
He obviously wanted to help, so you let him. Albeit, you let him do so while your heart fell a bit in your chest at your evening with him coming to an end. You hoped that there would be more times like this in the future with the baby you now both knew you shared.
Absently, you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, then nodded and gave a faint goodnight. Once you were getting into bed in a giant t-shirt to cover the bit of ass exposed at the edges of your comfortable granny panties, you heard a little knock against your cracked door.
You waited for him to come in since the door was still cracked, but he didn’t.
“Yeah?” You called, brows drawn in.
He opened the white paneled door just enough to show him at the threshold of your room. His hand was on the knob while he leaned with the opposite forearm against the doorframe. You did very well at not blatantly checking him out. That was something to be proud of.
Though, you couldn’t be too proud, because you knew it was just because your tiredness had hit you like a ton of bricks. It had been impossible to ignore as soon as you’d felt the cool, soft cotton of the gray oversized t-shirt touch your skin.
Your blinking was becoming slower and slower by the second. But your eyes perked up a little when he cleared his throat, suddenly interested in anything he had to say. Even if it was something as simple as Stevie not being hungry. Just wanted to hear his voice once more before going to bed.
And you got exactly that as his eyes swept over your face briefly, deep in thought. “I really, genuinely do want to help however I can with the baby stuff—however you want me or need me. I want to help you because it means I’m helping the baby. Our baby.”
Okay, the next time he referred to the baby being his, you were sure your heart was going to beat completely out of your chest. It did things to you.
“Alright,” you responded tiredly, a slight blush warmed your cheeks. “That sounds good.”
When you loudly yawned, he nodded with a quiet grin fitting his handsome features. He began to shut the door, but just before he could, he opened it once more.
“I–,” he cleared his throat. Your stomach felt airy and light at the possibility of what he might say. You didn’t know what to expect, but him talking to you was just. . . exactly what you needed. “I took a drive and listened to music, by the way.”
You blinked, brow furrowed with confusion. “. . .What?”
“When I left tonight. I just drove around and listened to music,” he said, his amber-brown eyes, so earnest. “Cleared my head with music.”
“Why are you telling–?” You sleepily wondered aloud.
“I. . . didn’t go see anyone,” he elaborated. “Just wanted you to know that. Also, I promise I won’t tell anyone–including Maya– until you’re ready.”
“Okay,” you squeaked, unsure of what else to say.
After observing each other for just a few moments after he’d spoken, he suddenly dipped out with a quick ‘Goodnight.’
The thunderstorm picked up again right after he’d left you, Stevie racing in, all frazzled, with her tail fluffed out at the sounds of the storm. The sleep that threatened to cloud your vision was a most welcome friend as you let yourself become cozy under your soft, high thread count sheets and fluffy, featherlight duvet. Your head was nestled against the pillow, Stevie snuggled against your ankles, purring. And your brain was just wandering off to slumberland when you understood why he’d said what he did about not being with anyone. . . it finally clicked.
He’d wanted you to know he hadn’t been with Maya like you’d assumed. Like you’d brashly accused him of at Applebee’s.
. . .But why did he care to tell you?
-🌼🌼🌼-
The next morning, you sat at the counter with a book about pregnancy, taking notes. It was the end of your new morning routine.
You didn’t have class or work for the day, so you were enjoying some much needed down time. The idea that you’d be able to take countless naps literally made goosebumps rise on your skin.
“Hey.”
And now you had even more goosebumps erupting at the sound of his raspy voice.
“Morning,” you replied, highlighting a line in your book about staying ‘physically active’ during pregnancy.
“Morning. You feeling okay?”
“Mhm. . .” you replied, halfway present and barely looking up from the page and the sticky you were jotting a note onto.
“Taking notes?”
“So many,” you giggled, your eyes finally looking up to find him dressed and ready for the day at the Keurig, preparing a cup of coffee. “All the time, I’m doing research.”
“I believe it,” he replied, clicking his K-cup in the holder. The hot drink was trickling into his mug when he looked at you in question. “Based on your research, can you have caffeine? Could I make you a coffee or something?”
“Um, not the safest in high amounts,” you pondered, flipping to the page where you’d just read about that a few days ago and quoted the book for him. “‘Drinking caffeine during pregnancy has some major health risks. The caffeine gets digested much slower and goes through the placenta into your baby’s bloodstream,’” you droned, feeling obnoxious with the long response.
“Interesting. Anything else it says about it?”
You raised a brow and gave him an ‘mhm’ before looking at the page again. “‘This means that the caffeine side effects of a racing heart rate, high blood pressure, and a stimulated nervous system affect you and your baby. The result is a higher chance of miscarriage. Even small amounts have been known to cause a 13% increase in low birth weight for your newborn,’” you glanced up, he was rubbing his chin, listening to every word. So, you finished out the paragraph. “‘Try switching to a naturally decaffeinated herbal tea, but do consult your doctor or midwife as certain herbs can cause premature labor.’”
“Have you tried any herbal tea?”
You made a gagging motion. Herbal tea honestly did not strike your fancy at this stage in your life. “The baby says herbal tea sounds disgusting,” you joked. He huffed a laugh with you as you finished your thought. “I’m looking into smoothies to start the day. I’m actually going to try making a few today since I’m home all day.”
“Cool. Just thought I’d offer,” he finished.
Or so you thought.
After getting his coffee off the Keurig, he made his way around the counter to sit in the barstool next to you. Heat washed over your face at his closeness.
“Speaking of doctor or midwife. . . which are you going with?”
“Doctor,” you answered. “Her name is Dr. Rose. Sweet, middle aged, Southern lady.”
“Oh, you’ve had your first appointment?” He asked, sounding curious and a little apprehensive.
“Yeah. . . First one last week.”
“Oh,” he replied, sounding just a little discouraged. But he tried to cover it. “Cool. How did it go? Did you have to go alone?”
“Mhm,” you said, suddenly digging into a page and very seriously taking notes on a sticky note about random ass shit you could care less about. “Josh went. It went well.”
He hummed, not responding right away. And you knew why.
You really did feel guilty now that you’d taken Josh to your first appointment and not Jake. He was the baby’s father, after all. And thinking about how he’d have reacted to seeing the baby with you, both of you, for the first time. . . You were suddenly very downcast as you thought of the missed opportunity.
“But you can come to the rest of them with me,” you rushed out, suddenly looking up at him as you said so. His eyes were huge as he watched you be neurotic. God, you were annoying. “If–if you want. I don’t want to pressure you.”
“O–of course. Yes,” he stuttered. “You tell me when and I’ll be there. Every single one.”
You realized he sounded eager and thrilled, not frightened like you feared.
“Okay,” you acknowledged, slightly breathless.
Once again, you were in the same situation as you had been last night. He was, once more, so close. Right there. Your shared breathing, the only sound comprehensible to your ears in the calm, quiet of the morning. His breath, smelling of coffee, should have turned you off. . . but it didn’t not at all. And the way he went to lick his lips, just once– his eyes, not leaving yours. . .
Then, he was jolted back to reality, blinking furiously.
“I’ve, um, gotta go run some errands and then I have a meeting with the label,” he suddenly said, rising up. He grabbed his cup, rushing around, dumping it in the sink before grabbing a cinnamon bagel from the pantry. He bent to get a Zip-loc bag from a lower cabinet, and your eyes moved on their own to his ass in his light denim jeans.
What. A. Sight. Now you were darting your tongue out to sweep over your lips.
He zipped up the bagel and left it on the counter to hurry to his room. When he reappeared, he was holding his phone, sending a text based on the sound, before he tucked it into his front pocket. He also held a beat up guitar case.
“Still carrying around that same old case?” You grinned, a brow perked at the sight of the duct tape holding it together. A few stickers here and there, littering the case. “Not a new one to match your new rockstar life?”
“The case adds character,” he winked, your blushing face, the victim. Then, he was on his way to the door, keys jingling out of the bowl on the counter and into his hand. “Let me know if you need anything today.”
You were responding with an agreeing noise and word as he shut the door behind him. But when your eyes scanned the counter again, you saw the bagel. Even though it was just a bagel with cinnamon swirl, it was still his breakfast. He needed to eat. That’s what had you rushing out the door after him, your page getting a quick sticky pressed into it.
And, as soon as you saw the twinkle in his eye at you remembering to grab the bagel for him, you realized that you just wanted that. If you were being completely honest, you’d just needed that one last smile to start your day. The perfect start to a morning, you’d say.
-🌼🌼🌼-
You decided to order some chicken fajitas from a local restaurant. DoorDash was your new best friend with the pregnancy cravings.
Chicken fajitas were a new favorite for the baby. A weekish ago when you’d first tried them as a pregnant woman, you’d learned they tasted more delicious than they ever had before. They didn’t make your tummy roll.
As you waited for the food to arrive, you decided to do some tidying around the apartment. You washed a couple of dishes you’d left in the sink from the morning, and picked up notebooks, textbooks, and toys of Stevie’s from around the living room. Then, after further inspection of the living room, you realized it could handle a sweep or two with a vacuum. And after that, you decided to Swiffer the kitchen. Didn’t feel like full-on mopping, but you had to round out the floor cleaning.
Before you could head to your bedroom or restroom to clean those spaces, a boundary was drawn for you when you heard a knock at the front door. DoorDash. Food. Fajitas.
Suddenly, unashamedly, your mouth was watering. Food took total priority over cleaning and you left the vacuum and Swiffer precisely where they were. You never left them out after cleaning, but you were hungry, okay?
But just as you’d made it to the door, you didn’t have to open it. Instead, you heard polite conversation from the other side, thank you’s and have a good night’s.
Before he opened the door, you went ahead and did it for him. And so, when you did, there was Jake, holding your food. The fajitas didn’t matter much anymore.
Well. . . That was until he walked in and you got a good whiff of the steaming, seasoned vegetables and grilled chicken. Priorities were back to normal real quick with an embarrassing rumble from your stomach.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Once you’d eaten all of your food in basically one bite, you sat on your sofa with a damn good book you were quickly becoming entranced by. But about twenty minutes into you sitting there, Jake appeared from where he’d disappeared to shower after he’d sat your food on the counter.
“You know, I keep thinking about something,” Jake started, coming to sit on the opposite end of the couch from you.
He was freshly showered— looking and smelling fucking delicious–hints of citrus came from his drying hair. Then, you smelled the warm and slightly sweet scent of sandalwood as he moved, propping his pajama clad legs on the coffee table in front of you two, unsticking his ripped t-shirt from his probably still-wet chest. You tried very hard not to watch him situate himself, too. The way he adjusted the inner seam of his pants, dangerously close to his. . .
Yeah, you looked away. Focused hard on the book you were trying your damnedest to read. His body was a massive distraction.
Trying to not be totally inappropriate, you replied to his earlier statement, still training your eyes on the page in front of you. “What were you thinking about?”
“I brought up the therapy thing the other night,” he started. You gave an absentminded ‘mhm’ in response, finally finding slight interest in the characters in front of you again. “And I’ve been wondering. Did you ever give that a second thought? Starting therapy?”
You blinked your eyes a few times, trying to catch up with the more serious topic of conversation. Looking up from your book, you closed it and put it to the side. When you placed the novel on the coffee table, he followed your hand back to you. His eyes found yours and your eyes fluttered again. You shook your head. “Yeah,” you trained your features, letting a smile float to your lips at his attention to you. “I actually–um–I started going.”
His features showed unkempt elation at your words. His eyes, bright and a wide smile on his lips. He sat up, facing you better than before, a foot balanced on the floor as the other bent with his body leaning towards you. “Seriously?!”
“Yeah,” you blushed. Why did he care so much? Surely it was mostly for the wellbeing of the baby. Right?
You know he cared before he knew about the baby, a calm voice hushed in the corners of your mind. Just let him in. Don’t be afraid.
Clearing your throat, you kept up with your thoughts and tried to open up in spite of your ever-swirling unsureness. “Thank you for doing the research. Really. I’m super grateful. You gave me the push I needed and I’ll never be able to thank you enough. The baby, too,” you added. “I wanted to get better for the baby. You two made quite the team in helping me want to be better.”
His cheeks reddened, complimenting his skin tone and the few freckles and scars that dotted his cheeks. He shook his head, “Don’t thank me. I just wanted to help–that’s it. You made the brave move to start,” his lips twitched with a quiet, close-lipped grin. “How’s it going? Well–no–you don’t have to answer–that’s not my–.”
You ignored him, suddenly feeling this urge to fill him in. “I love my therapist. Like, she is already one of my favorite people on this fucking earth,” you beamed, thinking of Gia’s wonderful aura and personality. “And we actually start EMDR in a couple of weeks.”
“Oh,” he started, surprised. His eyes widened as he leaned back into the arm of the couch nearest him. “You decided on EMDR, too?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, glancing down briefly before letting your eyes dance with his again. “That seemed to be the only logical route since there’s so much shit to dig through that I don’t even–can’t even remember. It seemed like the most intensive form of therapy and I needed that.”
“Are you afraid of what you might find?”
“Yes,” you replied without question. “But, that’s the only way you can properly heal. Sometimes things that feel right–like EMDR, because it just feels like the right path already– those things, they’re going to probably also feel a little uncomfortable and feared at first. But, it all leads to the ultimate destination of being healed. And that’s what matters most.”
There was a quietness, a cozy silence that settled between the two of you. A few moments where you shared breaths and your gazes intertwined. . . It felt heavenly to share space with him like this when things felt normal and all right between the two of you. There wasn’t another word for it.
His eyes were sincere with his tone when he broke the silence. “Y/n,” he breathed your name, making your tummy flutter with the most illustrious butterflies. “I am so fucking proud of you.”
Suddenly feeling like you were getting too much praise for something you were doing for the baby rather than yourself, you shook your head and brushed him off with a wave of your hand. “Don’t be,” you encouraged with a little scoff, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal. Really.”
“I will be proud and it is a big deal,” he concluded. “All I’ve wanted is for you to feel closer to being whole–you deserve it.”
“The baby deserves it most,” you argued–didn’t want to be self-centered on the subject. “It’s for the baby.”
“Well,” he cleared his throat, crossing his arms across the chest of his white t-shirt. “I want you to focus on helping yourself, too, y/n. Please,” he asked, tone softening. Your eyes flickered across his. “I brought it up in the first place because I wanted you to feel better.”
You took it as food for thought, nodding at his words. Truly, you did consider what he’d said. . . his opinion mattered a helluva lot to you–probably too much. But you didn’t want to waver from who you were doing it mostly for. Your hand found your tummy as you reached the coffee table for your book and Stanley.
Taking a big sip from your trusty tumbler, you eyed him once more before opening your book. You didn’t want him to feel obligated to stay in here with you when you were sure he had better things to do. “I will remember that,” you offered with a small grin, flipping your book open to where you dog-eared it.
You waited for him to get up from his spot on the couch, but. . . he didn’t. He stayed put, situating his body to face the TV.
In your peripheral vision, you saw how his legs spread across the cushion and once again tried to ignore ignore ignore. But you couldn’t help the thought that there was just something so fucking enticing about Jake Kiszka manspreading. It was gross when every other man did it. But Jake? All it made you want to do was straddle his sturdy hips.
Fuck. Focus on the book. Come on, y/n.
“Also. . .you realize, if you are craving something,” he began, pulling you from your book yet again. “You don’t have to DoorDash it. I’m always willing to go get you the food you are wanting.”
To put it simply, you were surprised by the turn in conversation. It was sort of random, but also not random all at the same time.
For no reason whatsoever, you decided to combat the sweet offer. “What if you’re with Maya when I’m craving something?”
Why the fuck were you like this? Honestly, it felt mostly like a form of protection from getting your hopes up too high. . . it was a coping mechanism. But you hated it. It was stupid.
He hummed, thinking. Then, he piped up with an answer in no time. “I’ll just try to make sure we hang out here more than her house. Simple.”
Oh, joy.
“You’d rather be here than her massive mansion of a home?” You questioned, trying to not think about seeing her stupidly stunning face more than you wanted to.
“Well, yeah,” he confusedly responded. “This is my home and I like being here.”
His home. He liked being here. The words pulled at you–in every direction. Broke you and made you wish things were different.
“How does she afford that, by the way?” You unapologetically nosed, not wanting to sit in any downhearted thoughts. It was rude to pry, you knew. But you didn’t really care at the moment.
He chuckled raspily, reaching to the coffee table for the Roku remote. When your eyes immediately looked over your book to peer at his waist, you didn’t think twice about it. It was whatever. “She’s the financial manager for this big corporation on Fifth Avenue.”
Your stomach fell. Jesus. Besides having trash music taste, apparently she was incredibly intelligent, too? What didn’t she have? You couldn’t even figure out what the fuck you wanted to do with your life and she was financially managing a giant ass company?Depressing as hell. Showed you your worth once again, in comparison to her. She was someone and you were literally nobody.
“Can I watch something?” He asked you, patiently waiting. You gave a half-ass ‘yeah, of course’ in reply, not fully present.
And when he eventually turned on some documentary about pirates that sort of piqued your interest, too, you decided to close your book for a final time. And you didn't put any more substance to your gloomy self-consciousness. It was your own fault you were feeling this way now–being nosy when you shouldn’t have been. Prying into someone’s life who’d never done anything wrong to you.
Yeah, she’d slept with Jake. . . but did she even know that you’d also–? Shit. Did she know that the woman her boyfriend lived with used to fuck him, too? How in the hell would she react to the news if she didn’t already know that–? Your stomach twisted into knots at the thought of her finding out about. . . all of it.
The courage sprouted up as a historian started speaking on an infamous female pirate. “Does–does Maya know that we used to. . .?”
His brows dipped, thoughtful, turning down the television to acknowledge you’d spoken. But, he kept watching the documentary, his eyes honed in on the black-boxed subtitles. “No, actually. No she doesn’t. Didn’t really feel the need to tell her.”
Of course he didn’t feel the need. It kind of really hurt, but it wasn’t on Jake. Not at all. You knew very well that the sex probably wasn't as important to him as he’d once expressed. You’d been so angry and hateful to him, enough to drive away any sort of deep, lingering feelings that might have lied there.
He knew that it wasn’t special enough that she needed to know. It was something of the past. All that mattered now was her. Only now. . . There was one inevitable reason it would have to come to light. You didn’t give voice to the obvious. The fact that, now, he would have to tell her. And you both knew it.
As he turned the volume up a couple notches, you couldn’t help but wonder how the fuck would she react.
-🌼🌼🌼-
November 21, 2022
You couldn’t have made it to your car any faster if you tried. Looking at your parking decision in hindsight, you realized you should have parked closer to the campus advisory office. But you hadn’t. You’d left your car parked where it had been for class. So now you had to walk a much longer distance that you could have avoided. . . If you’d just thought ahead.
And in depressing moments like these, you wished you would have. The tears that flew down your cheeks in steady tracks made you beyond grateful that you hadn’t worn mascara. You’d had to meet with your advisor today to touch base and talk career plans. . . It was something that Pratt had decided to add to all program studies, for senior students. The idea of the meeting was to help students feel supported.
But you didn’t feel fucking supported. Not at all. The way your advisor had blatantly judged you for even daring to bring up the idea of being a lyricist. . . She had instantly struck your idea down with a curt shake of her head and furrowed brows. Her eyes had lit up with laughter. But thankfully, she hadn’t been so terrible as to actually laugh in your face.
Her words hadn’t been much better than that alternative, though. She’d unabashedly, condescendingly criticized your idea of becoming a lyricist. She made you feel stupid for ever even thinking of it as a possibility.
“I’m not saying it’s impossible, but there’s a very slim chance that a label will take a fresh graduate. That’s a career you have to prove yourself in. Takes a long time to do that, a lot of experience that you don’t have.”
The snarky tone in her voice pissed you off. Her words stuck with you enough that they dared to crush every dream you had about your future, which is something an advisor should not do. They should encourage, not discourage, to the point of making their advisee’s feel like utter shit after an appointment.
So, as you finally made it to your car, you tried to contain the sobs that threatened to escape. . . but to no avail. Because, over and over again, you thought of how your advisor–someone who should be helping you to pursue your dreams–basically told you that you weren’t good enough for the one thing you wanted to do. She’d told you as much in her “officially official doctorate-level” advisor lingo. If her goal had been to completely crush you, she’d done just that.
You were glad your next stop was therapy because you desperately needed to hear Gia’s two cents.
-🌼🌼🌼-
November 21, 2022
You spent roughly 30 minutes filling Gia in on the past week of your life. She heard all about you telling Jake, talking to your campus advisor, and any other thing that came to mind to tell her.
When you started the session, Gia had let you know that you only had the first thirty minutes because you needed to find your mental and emotional safe place by the end of the session. It was today’s goal to establish that place. Finding your footing in the safe place was a vital precursor before you began EMDR. She’d had great advice for your life update, once you’d effectively word-vomited all over her.
To your utter relief, the career thing didn’t bother her at all. Her expression barely changed as she’d shrugged. The first thing she’d done was assure you that everything would be fine and it would work out and that you have time to figure it out, despite what societal norms would tell you. So, even though that had been the biggest, most terrifying thing on your mind when you’d shown up to counseling today, you decided to not worry about it since Gia didn’t seem disturbed by the news at all.
“Anything is possible,” she’d reassured you once your tears had momentarily stopped after telling her everything your advisor had said. “Don’t let a few words–opinions– from one woman make you disbelieving of that fact.”
Her opinions on Jake were positive, too, which made your heart swell in your chest. Though, it simultaneously broke for the fact that you couldn’t kiss him and hug him and be with him to tell him what she thought of him. Would he think it was weird if you told him what she thought of him? Would it freak him out that you’ve talked about him enough to Gia that she has a solid preconceived opinion of him?
“And Jake. . .,” she’d remarked at the end of the thirty minute mark, rolling back in her chair to her desk to get a big swig of her herbal tea. Your baby thought it was gross, your stomach rolling, but good for her and her nasty tea. “He is an outstanding example of a man. I’m impressed with his actions, his words. . . all of it. He seems like a stand up guy, and I hope I get to meet him one of these days,” her grin was sly, but you didn’t know why.
So, yes, while your heart beat erratically and longingly at her words about him, it simultaneously broke your heart for the fact that you couldn’t kiss him and hug him and be with him to tell him what she thought of him. Would he think it was weird if you told him what she thought of him? Would it freak him out that you’ve talked about him enough to Gia that she has a solid preconceived opinion of him?
It made you think, as you watched her type notes on her laptop . . . Would you have told him if you were still seeing each other? Surely so. . . But maybe not. . . you weren’t really the best at complimenting him. And you sort of (desperately) hated that.
Don’t fucking think about it, y/n, a thoughtful, protective voice said to you. Just think about you right now.
So, you did the best you could to shove any thought of being a bitch to him from your mind. And instead focused on Gia’s comfortable couch. Soft camel-colored leather. The way the cushion sank under you felt like sitting on a dense cloud. She was making light conversation before getting to the nitty gritty. You focused on her the best you could.
Today would be your first venture into the realm of EMDR. . . . And you were anxious to begin this long-awaited journey of replenishing your soul with the incredible gift of reprocessing.
“The safe place we are finding today will be where you go when things become too much during our EMDR sessions.” Gia wheeled closer to you in her light pink office chair, the smell of eucalyptus and mint following her, as she must use it as a sort of body oil or spray. She carried the calming smell with her everywhere. And the office, so wonderfully consoling with the scent of lavender. The little machine that spurted the essential oil every 10 minutes. All of these things combined, keeping the room drenched in calm.
“There are places your mind is going to take you, some darker than others. These are scenes from your life that you will need to experience again in order for us to process through them so you can heal through them. Considering, you know, EMDR is simply a reprocessing technique,” she explained, adjusting her wire lens frames on her nose. “In order to not feel trapped, claustrophobic, or overwhelmed in these memories, you will need to have a safe place to turn to–a place to run to–a scene to easily unlock. It might be unknown to you until you actually plant your feet in that scene, but this place is already the natural wave your brain takes to feel safe.” She added one more thing to this train of thought. “This will just be the first time your brain is able to fully experience it. . . because you’re actually giving yourself the permission to do so.”
She held her hands out, palms up, and you took the hint and placed your hands in hers. As you would have guessed, her hands were soft as silk, matching the rest of her fairy-like aura. She squeezed once, lightly before continuing, “Now, I will be there the whole time, watching you, to monitor if you are doing alright. Sometimes you can sense it and get out, and other times it’s a little bit trickier. I will watch your eyes and the way your muscles tense, to gauge how I believe you’re feeling. Your body language will speak the words you may not be able to. This is an incredibly intricate form of therapy that we will wade through together. You will never be alone.”
She grinned, and you did the same. The way she explained these things to you was so assuaging. Were you scared? Hell yes. Of course you were scared. You were about to experience events that had become so dark and secreted in your mind, that they’d left you deep, lasting trauma. . . for a second time.
The re-experiencing aspect was daunting. But. . . you weren’t intimidated. You felt strong to withstand what was to come from your mind. There was the sense that you could overcome the darkness that was buried–some forgotten, some not–in your mind. . . especially if Gia was there to help you through it.
She let go of your hands after giving one more reassuring press. Then she was wheeling back to her desk.
“How are you feeling? Are you comfortable?” Gia asked, grabbing a round, average size cloth, zipped bag off of her desk and placing it in her lap.
“I’m honestly feeling very much at ease right now. And, yes,” you replied honestly. You pressed your hands into the cool leather of the couch you were sitting on, your hands sinking into the ideally aged material. “I love your couch.”
“That’s good,” she smiled, full lips stretching over her white teeth. “Now, I want you to do a few calming exercises with me. We will start with deep breaths, then we will practice a few eye movement exercises. You just let me know when you’re ready.”
Not wanting to wait any longer, you responded readily. “I would love to begin whenever.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes,” you replied, brows fixed and eyes serious. “The sooner I can heal from this, myself, the sooner I’ll be healed for my baby. I’m ready.”
She raised a perfectly trimmed, coffee-colored brow. “You’re incredible, y/n.”
You rolled your eyes, but thanked her nonetheless. You weren’t incredible. Your baby was, and he or she was why you were doing this. The baby was your push, without even being born yet–the baby was the powerful one.
Gia had you complete a variation of calming breathing exercises to center yourself. And after those, you completed eye movement exercises for the first time in your entire life. It was . . . odd, yet equally nice.
“Your body is loosening. You’re letting yourself transcend–easing your mind,” she said, voice airy and light. Your form felt just as light as her tone. “Now, open your eyes. We’ll do a shortened version of those techniques right before we begin.
Your eyes slowly opened back to reality to see her unzipping the round black case she’d been holding in her lap. When she opened it, the contents of it were brand new to you. You’d never really seen a thing like the devices she was moving to hold in her hands. She pulled out two little black devices that were attached to a chord plugged into a slightly larger black box. This one, though, had knobs and buttons decorating the front of it. Your curiosity was growing by the second.
She wheeled her chair over to you once more, holding the black gadgets in each hand.
“These are tactical paddles,” she said, motioning for you to take them. When you did, she turned a knob on the black box she was still holding, sending a full vibration to the ones in your hands. “They’re buzzers that will help activate both sides of your brain during the session.”
They were buzzing one by one as you held them in the middle of your palms. You couldn’t tell if it was just your imagination, but you swore you felt each side of your brain moving right along with them. She scooted back a bit, giving you space to experience the feeling. She adjusted the knob just slightly once she’d moved away and you felt their vibrations speed up a little.
“Do they feel okay?” She asked, situating the frames of her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. “How are you feeling?”
“It’s strange,” you said without thinking. “It’s very comfortable to hold them. . . but that is part of why it’s strange.”
Gia loosely giggled at that and reassured you that that reaction was more than typical and that she always considered that particular combination of feelings a good place to begin.
After completing the body relaxation practices once more, you were being guided by Gia. “Relax your body. Lean back. Lay back. Whatever feels best for you.” With the last word, she adjusted the paddles down to a more neutral setting. Your hands felt tingly in a weird, yet contented way.
“Bring to mind the intention that you are practicing feeling safe when you actually are safe,” she softly said, soothing. “One of the best ways to evoke this feeling of safety is to imagine being in a place that you might really enjoy being–wherever you may feel naturally safe, peaceful, and/or calm.” She paused briefly, the paddles changed speed as your head started to become light. “It can be a real place or a place that you’ve come to imagine in your mind on instinct. This is the place you travel at the idea of feeling serene.”
You breathed an ‘okay’ in response, but focused more on the way the instruments in your hands were aiding in sending you somewhere. You felt the atmosphere of your mind slowly changing–equally present and not.
The word Gia had earlier used. . .’transcend.’ It was the perfect word because you currently were completely, wholly transcendent.
“I’m right here,” Gia quietly, gently reminded you, as the blackness behind your eyes took hold, becoming the only thing your five senses could grasp, aside from the sound of Gia’s gentle guidance. “You are doing great.”
You felt the instantaneous feeling of a light breeze brush your face. It pushed you back, but you also felt the feeling of your body keeping still. There were two places. Reality: Gia’s office. And somewhere completely unknown. . . You were somewhere new.
This wasn’t a place you’d ever been before. The barely-there sounds of birds chirping in trees within a forest that guarded you, on all sides, reverberated off the walls of your mind. The sounds, the breeze– they helped you find your footing. And suddenly, your feet were bare against the partially warm, partially cool feeling of damp dirt. Rain had recently come to this place. You could smell the rain. But every crevice of your mind knew it wasn’t raining anymore. No, you knew that the moment you opened your eyes, you’d find a light, clear blue sky, maybe a couple wisps of clouds painting against the beautifully blank canvas of azure. But you weren’t opening your eyes yet. You focused on everything else taking shape around you.
The paddles continued to transfer varying speeds between your palms, but it was the last thing on your mind. They were the guide that you knew to follow, but didn’t have to concentrate on.
Your nose tuned in to the smell of flowers around you. . . All kinds, but there was a particular plant infiltrating your mind the most. . . Though, you knew you wouldn’t be able to place it until you opened your eyes. It was strange because you knew the smell, but your lack of sight was keeping the name of the flower hidden.
Other things were hidden with your eyes still closed, but you kind of enjoyed the blank space.
This season. . . the most wonderful tiny person was bound to grace the world in this season. Spring. It was springtime. You knew that much. Once your mind realized the season you were placed in, your eyes opened a little more to the scene around you.
Lavender. An entire field of the wonderfully fragrant plant, surrounding you with its calming notes. And it was beautiful. Never in your whole life had you been in such a beautiful space, yet your mind had no problem creating it for you.
“Tell me what you see, but keep your eyes closed for me,” you heard Gia’s voice, although it sounded a hundred miles away. It was hushed, distant, like you were hearing her through a tunnel–only an echo in your mind. It was strange. Your physical form was still seated on the comfy couch, but you were standing amongst the most lovely sea of lavender.
“I’m. . .I’m not really sure where I am,” you whispered, feeling like raising your voice would disturb the serenity of this place you’d stumbled upon. “I’ve never been here before. It’s��it’s incredible.”
Much like Gia’s, your own voice felt muted in your head. But, unlike her, you were standing in the middle of a narrow tunnel, whereas she was at the end. You were traveling somewhere. Obviously.
“That’s okay,” she tells you. You suddenly felt the paddles quicken ever so gently in their pace, but they felt good. Comforting. Real. “Just tell me everything you’re seeing right now.”
“Lavender. . .A field of lavender. A forest surrounding me. Blue sky. . .,” You couldn’t feel much of saying the word lavender. “So much of it. I could just lay in it, let it surround me.”
“So you’re outside– good. What else do you see? Is there any wildlife?” The echo of her voice became even more distant as you began walking around, searching for whatever else was there with you.
Deer. A whole family across the field, taking nourishment from the flowers and emerald green grass. They weren’t like normal deer, though. They didn’t run from you as you approached them. They weren’t scared, they just existed peacefully within this place. Then, you heard the birds begin chirping again, as if on queue.
“Birds are singing. . . There are deer,” you felt yourself telling her, still in amazement with your next words. “They’re really beautiful. And they’re not afraid of me. . .? I can almost touch them.”
This was entirely unreal, yet all too real all at once. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever believe your mind was capable of this. Yet, there you were, witnessing the most alluring scene that you were sure didn’t physically exist anywhere on earth. Only in your mind. Safely in your mind. No one could destroy it, no one could infiltrate it. It was all yours.
“That sounds wonderful, y/n. Let's focus on a few other senses. Tell me what you smell,” Gia’s sweet voice sounded as if it was coming from the sky, from the wind. It was all around you, yet so far away.
You felt your present body take a deep breath through your nose, trying to get the best whiff you could of everything surrounding your psyche.
“I smell the lavender. It’s overwhelming, but in the best way. God it. . .It smells so good. So. . . Fresh. It’s newly bloomed. And I can smell rain. It’s not raining now but it was.”
“Good,” Gia softy said. “What can you touch? Tell me what it feels like.”
You reached down to run your fingers over a spray of the dark violet flowers, their scent became even more powerful as you lightly ruffled them.
“I’m touching the lavender,” you told her. “The buds are so soft, so light to touch. They feel delicate, but I know they won’t break. They’re sturdy. But they aren’t stiff.”
Aside from the way they felt against your hands, they also emitted a feeling of pure peace. Of tranquility. A good, clean energy unlike anything you’d ever felt.
“I can almost feel them too, y/n.” You heard her giggle quietly across the field. “What are you doing? Are you standing, sitting?”
You then felt the urge to lie down. So, you did. Your body felt weightless in your mind as you let yourself fall backward, landing softly amidst the blooms. It felt like the most comfortable bed you’d ever laid in. But before you answered her, you felt your hands within your mind reach down to your tummy. You had to know if your sweet baby was there with you.
And as you laid your palm gently over your tiny bump, you felt it. Your baby was with you, safely tucked away in the most calm place you’d ever known. It only made sense that your physical form of comfort found its way to your mental one, too. Feeling your bump here made you feel. . .complete. Although, there was still something missing. You didn’t know what, but you felt it. But at that moment, your baby was all you needed.
Or so you thought.
Because when you let yourself sit up from where you’d laid in the magnificent, flourishing field of flowers, you finally felt complete because the last person you needed had arrived.
He was standing across from you, on the opposite side of the field. His long, wavy chestnut locks, flowing just the slightest bit in the breeze of the dreamy spring day. He wore a blue suit. A dark blue, three-piece suit with a dark blue shirt underneath it all to match.
He was so handsome. Beyond stunning. The most immaculately created person. . .
He didn’t stay there for long before he was making his way toward you, striding as he naturally did. His walk, so smooth and sexy–always.
As he came closer, you were learning that, in this realm, time moved just a tad bit different than normal. He seemed to make it over to you in less than a minute, even from the other end of the expansive field of light purple.
Then, he was right beside you, lying down next to where you still sat next to him. He’d placed his left arm behind his head, to balance and lift himself a little. And, his left arm, spread out, ready for you to lay beside him. Lay with him.
He didn’t say anything, but you knew that was what he wanted. You’d laid this way with him a million times before.
So, you moved to lay with him in a way that felt like coming home. You laid back, so comfortably relaxing your tired muscles as you placed a hand on his chest, and one side of your face against it. Curling your body into his, you laid one leg over his, your body facing toward him. Your bump was pressed snugly and safely against the side of his abdomen. Safe.
Everything was safe here. Truly was the safest place your mind could conjure. You felt his steady breaths against the top of your head as you looked out past him, to the side of the field. Where the birds still chirped in the trees and the deer still meandered.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice equal with the breeze–quiet, calm. His breaths hit your head with each word, he was so near. . . but his words also echoed amongst the trees, all around you.
Then, it was Gia’s voice you heard whisper through the trees.
“You’ve found it, haven’t you? Your safe place,” she questioned knowingly, her tone lilted with excitement for you.
Had you?
Before you could consider it any longer, his hand came up to rest against your head, brushing so delicately through your loose strands of hair. Your body hummed, feeling one with the wind as he held you. Protected you. Stayed with you. Your body was telling you your answer in your curated fantasy, communicating it to your concrete form as you uttered it aloud.
“Yes,” you sighed, your body on the couch and still in Jake’s arms. You were vividly existing in your imagination and in reality all at once. This feeling would take some getting used to. While you were in shock, you were also not shocked at all. “Y-yes, I’ve found it.”
Jake . . . was he–?
The lavender was glorious and the field you laid in, the soft ground, was better than any bed you’d ever graced. . . The deer were exquisite and lovely. The song of the birds, sounding like mystical, heavenly hymns. . . The sound of the trees brushing together in the warm breeze of the cool spring day, making their own music, and better than any white noise you’d ever experienced.
But Jake. . . None of those things even came close to the way you felt in his arms. The way you felt light as air and at ease the moment he’d graced your presence. You’d felt your peace and the baby’s when he’d graced the scene. Still did, as you melted into him, his breaths, his heartbeat, helping you feel free and firmly planted, one with all living things–all at once. There was no question that it was him.
Jake was your safe place.
-🌼🌼🌼-
“Now, I want you to make sure you’re finding quiet time to locate your safe place,” Gia advised, getting up from her rolling chair as soon as you’d risen from the couch. “It’s essential to practice before the sessions. You want it to be an easy place to locate during the really hard resurgence of memories,” she coached you, pushing her chair to her desk.
“Got it,” you agreed, head still swimming a little as you steadily came back to reality. The prospect of traveling to that place in your spare time was a little intimidating. . . But also very exciting.
Seeing Jake so vividly in such a serene atmosphere on a regular basis sounded like paradise. You could definitely find time to practice that.
“If you’re not opposed, I would maybe find someone to drive you to your sessions,” Gia suggested, going to clean the paddles with a spray and microfiber towel. You tuned back in, alertness settling in. “These sessions,” she made eye contact with you after bending over to grab her tube of Clorox wipes. “They are bound to be–no, they will be incredibly intense,” she used a towel she’d retrieved from the container to wipe it down. “Just someone you can trust to be there for you afterwards. . . so you’re not alone when you’re coming down from these memories that will present themselves again.”
Still smelling hints of lavender and feeling the warmth of a chest beneath you in some other heavenly reality, you knew who you’d pick. Was it a crazy idea? What did Gia think? Would she tell you her opinion or would you be forced to figure this out on your own? You didn’t want to seem crazy . . . . or weird.
You had just found your voice to respond when she started speaking again.
“Who do you think would be the best–?”
“I actually have an idea of who–.”
The way your chest bubbled with laughter alongside her was wonderful. It felt like the most genuine giggle you’d ever exuded. You truly felt like you were in a sphere of incomparable serenity. The way your body felt. . . you felt complete. You felt self-assured. Still smiling, you raised a brow and motioned one hand to emphasize that she should continue with her train of thought. Your other hand safely held your belly, right where your baby was resting in its safe cocoon.
“You might not like it,” she grinned.
Instantly, you knew who she was talking about.
Gia sighed, settling the paddles securely back in their zipped black bag. Her eyes found yours, testing the waters. Then she offered her opinion in a firm tone, “Jake would be ideal. He would be my option,” she winked, encouraging.
Your chest exhaled in relief. You weren’t crazy.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Gia had sensed your unsureness as she walked you to the front desk. She was taller than you with a sort of swagger in her trendy set of corduroy overalls.
Nerves were wracking you, sweat already pricking in your armpits. You’d voiced your concerns to her in her office to which she’d told you to follow her.So, you had.
And when you made it to the front ‘desk’ (a tall counter with a window in front of it), you linked your hands under your belly with a sigh. Gia stopped at the counter and leaned on the heavy, light gray granite–opposite of where you stood on your way to the door. She leveled you with a stare, her fingers tapping against the expensive granite.
“I’m just going to tell you this,” she sighed, a tiny little grin on her full lips. “Be confident. Have confidence. You can do it. Just try it out. Seriously. All you have to do is give it a try. I see it in you, y/n,” she firmly stated. Then, she got even more serious with a furrow in her dark brown brow. “Let. Him. Care, y/n. Don’t you dare work to control him just because you feel like you don’t deserve it.”
-🌼🌼🌼-
So, when you got home, you somehow found it in you to take Gia’s advice . . . and you immediately went to talk to Jake. The more you contemplated it on the drive home, you realized you weren’t really too nervous to ask him anymore. . .
The nerves had dissipated little by little as you’d rehashed your time in your safe place. How seamless things had been there. . . it felt like before. Like normal. . . and even though it wasn’t your normal anymore, you were clinging to it. It was giving you courage. And the fact that Jake was literally your safe place was giving you courage.
Yeah, he made you nervous because he was Jake, but he also eased you so effortlessly because he was Jake. He was safe.
He wasn’t perfect, no. But, he was someone who was permanently, preciously ingrained in your heart. Today had officially proved that. And you were carrying the sweetest little piece of him. . . that helped the nerves for sure. There was a piece of him that was always with you. And now that he knew about said precious baby, things genuinely seemed to be normal between the two of you again. . . as normal as could be at the current time.
It had you knocking on his bedroom door.
It dawned on you as you delivered the knock that you hadn’t even thought of checking his parking space to see if he was home. You’d been too anxious to see him and ask him what you had been encouraged to ask. . . .Before you lost the magic courage. Because, yes, let’s be real, he still made you nervous as hell. He was Jake.
It was all confusing and weird. As you stood there, waiting for longer than you’d planned, you realized he might not even be home. You could be standing here waiting for nothing. Or worse, Maya was in there with him or some shit and you were going to open the door to–.
Jake.
The door had opened to show a very sleepy, very effortlessly handsome Jake. His hair was all tousled like he’d been in a deep slumber. And when you looked past him, his bed was a mess from a nap. . .but no curvy, beautiful woman occupied it.
The only thing you saw laying in the bed was a book, right next to the fluffed pillow where his head had been resting. It was open, laying face down with several sticky notes peeking out of the pages. And all that you could make out was a picture of a pregnant woman on the cover and the word ‘Expecting’ on the cover before your attention was brought back to him talking.
“Y/n?. . . You okay?” He was talking, voice patient and calm, but sounding as though he’d said the words a time or two before you’d come back to.
You were quick to cover your ass to hide that you had been spying in his room.
“Sorry,” you shook your head, looking down and clasping your hands under your tummy subconsciously. His eyes followed your hands, a little smile forming on his lips. You continued, “I just wanted to ask you something.”
His eyes opened, as if waiting for what you wanted to ask. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “What’s that?”
You cleared your throat, suddenly a little nervous, but suddenly worked to picture him in the field of lavender. And then you were okay again. He was Jake. He was safe. “I–,” you glanced down, then back up to his kind, tired eyes. Just say it, y/n. “Would you mind going to a few of my therapy appointments with me?”
“Yes,” he replied, without any hesitation whatsoever. “Of course. Special ones or. . .?”
“All of them,” you blurted, needing to clear it up. Honesty. Just be honest. Don’t fear his reaction. He’s Jake.
Eyebrows wrinkled, his lip quirked. “All of them. . .? Like, all of the special ones or–?”
“All of the appointments. Any of the appointments I have that you can make it to. I just need someone safe to go with me,” you rushed out.
He blinked a few times, a gentle shake of his head before his eyes got sincere and a smile spread over his pretty lips. “And you chose me?”
“Yes,” you simply answered, not trusting yourself to say anything more. There was a definite part of you still reeling from today’s session and seeing him when you imagined somewhere safe.
Standing there for a few seconds, you could tell he had a million questions floating through his mind. And, knowing him, you knew he was probably wondering why you hadn’t chosen Josh. And, to be totally truthful, you hadn’t once thought of Josh at the prospect of someone safe being there with you to see you through after the sessions.
Jake seemed to be the only valid option. The only person you wanted to go with you. Even if Elsie were still living here, totally accessible and available, you knew Jake still would’ve been your first choice. The therapy had been his idea. He had asked you how it was going. He was someone you trusted to talk to, and he was someone invested in this with you. And he was him.
“I’d love that,” he responded softly. “When are the appointments?”
He’d love it? Your heart was thumping in your chest at the words. Absently, you thought of your poor heart monitor, and how it was going to be picking up some crazy data due to this man.
“Every Monday,” you quietly responded. Then, you thought, before getting your hopes up, you’d better tell him what he was really in for. . . because he might end up eating his words once he found out his job in it all. “You’ll just have to wait for me. You could run an errand or two or whatever while I’m in my hour-long sessions. . . and sometimes they might go over.” He nodded, seeming fine with that. You were shocked. Didn’t know why you were shocked because he was naturally so thoughtful. You knew this. “And then, you’ll have to be there afterwards. And I might be emotional. This form of therapy is intense,” you explained. Then, you thought . . . “Well, you probably already know that because you. . .”
“Found it,” he finished, eyes twinkling. “I’d still love to go. You’re not going to scare me away from it. I know you’re afraid of that.”
Why the fuck did he even care to read you like a damned book? Surely your thought processes didn’t matter that much to him. But, you remembered his voice, reassuring you after Applebee’s. Cleaning up some toxic thoughts you’d let form.
“. . .I didn’t stop caring about you . . .”
“. . .Just because I’m not talking to you or falling asleep next to you . . . It doesn’t mean I don’t still want what’s best for you. Hence why I’m the one who initiated the therapy conversation. I kept my end of the deal and researched for you because I care.”
Then, it was Gia’s voice. What she’d told you that day. . .just before you’d left.
“Let him care, y/n. Don’t work to control him just because you feel like you don’t deserve it.”
Let him care.
You decided to just continue on with the only reasonable response, eyes, filling with tears, trained on your fidgeting feet. “Thank you,” the words came out as a whisper. But you shook your head. Confidence. Looking up, you tried again, smiling with your eyes. “Thank you.”
His eyes held yours for a moment. He just let his eyes sink into yours. . .like he’d done so many times before. Just as he had in times past, he was letting himself read you. You could tell.
Not able to help it, your cheeks filled with heat at his stare. Your heart picked up speed. You had to speak again. Break the quietness. The calmness in his observant, knowing irises was too much.
“Will Maya be okay with it?”
Why you chose to break the ice with her, you didn’t know. Probably to get his mind off of you and back on her. Where you knew he wanted it to be. He might have still cared for you, but she was the woman he loved. To him, you were sure that she mattered in this just as much as you did.
He shut his eyes once briefly, and with a shake of his head, he was back. His eyebrows dipped, pursed his lips with a curt nod. “Oh, yeah. I’m sure,” he assured. He tightened his fingers against his biceps. You couldn’t help but watch his strong hand flex. “I’ll–um, I’ll just tell her when the appointments are so she knows I’m not available on those days.”
Shit. You didn’t want to take him away from her. You hadn’t even thought of that. That would definitely be selfish. And not available on those days? Like, not available at all? Was he planning on spending entire Mondays with you?
Hurriedly, you offered a response to make sure to clear the air. “Oh my god. I didn’t even think of you having to–,” you groaned. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t go with me if it’s going to interrupt your plans with her.”
His brows wrinkled. “I never said that.”
“It was implied,” you defended your thought process.
“No, it wasn’t.”
You were suddenly irritated that he wasn’t understanding why you felt bad. “I just don’t want to be selfish, Jake. That’s all I’m saying. God.”
He rolled his eyes, hands getting stuffed in the pockets of the sweatpants he was wearing. You just realized how low they hung on his hips. You could see the very bottom of his stomach with the way he’d cut his t-shirt, just above the hip bones. You flicked your eyes back to his face when he spoke again. And, again, your face was hot.
“I was literally saying I want to be there for you and I need to tell her that’s what I’m doing on those days,” he explained, tone sharp and patient all at once. He was putting his foot down.
You conceded. But. . . it made you think of something. Maybe it was the tan stomach of his skin and how badly you wanted to run your fingers across it. Or perhaps it was the fact that the woman in question might not be privy to one important detail.
So, you asked. “Does she know I’m pregnant with your baby yet?”
His baby.
You ignored the thought, instead training your mind on the serious matter at hand: would she be okay with it if she knew you were pregnant with his baby?
“No,” he curtly replied. Then, his tone was entirely calm when he stated, “She won’t know until you give me the okay to tell her. I told you that already.”
Flushing, you found his eyes. You tried your best to match the sincerity in his irises with your own. “Thank you for being considerate of that.”
“Of course,” his lips twitched to a small grin, then fell back to a purse. He chewed the inside of his cheek.
Fuck. You needed to wrap this up. You were wasting his time. But–you had to know. . .
You cleared your throat, replacing your hands from below your tummy to cross under your boobs. The way his eyes flickered down with the action couldn’t be ignored and it gave you the push to ask. “. . .what does she know about us?”
“She knows you’re my friend and that we’re close because we live together,” he offered.
For some reason, the fact that he’d called you his friend made your heart leap into the bottom of your throat. It made you sort of sad, yet happy at the same time. Sad that you couldn’t be more, but glad that he was willing to call you such a wonderful thing. Did he seriously trust you to be his friend?
“We’re friends?” You shyly pondered.
Aaand hormones were officially in control of your dialogue. It was time to wrap it up. Quick. You eyed the ground, embarrassed at your lack of control over questions.
But, his response was measured, so sweetly assuring you with his next words. His voice was soft and raspy, “I never wanted to not be your friend.” Then, suddenly, he was touching you. His hand was placed on your cheek, lifting your face gently to look into his eyes. There was no saving the response on the heart monitor data. And the swarm of buzzing butterflies in your tummy. You lost yourself in his gaze. “No matter what happens, you are my friend. I always want to be your friend, honey.”
Honey.
Your pulse increased tenfold and you couldn’t help the flutter of your lashes, your eyes watery yet again.
His hand was still on your cheek, and a warm blush had settled in them when you mumbled, ashamed. “I hate you ditching your girlfriend for me. I don’t want to be selfish.”
A finger smoothed gently on your cheek, just beneath your lashes. “You’re not being selfish. And I’m not ditching her,” he removed his hand, and your heart sputtered a few times, trying to balance all of the emotions transpiring within you. He reached behind him, grabbing the handle of the door and shutting it behind him. When he moved forward with the motion, you stepped back. Didn’t want to risk getting too close. His eyes found yours as he consoled you. “Please quit thinking of it like that. I promised to be there–to help you–you a long time ago, and I intend to keep that promise. Let me.”
You were back in the hallway at your grandparents’ home. He was coming to sit next to you, against their beige, textured walls. The house, smelling like the pie that was baking. Familiar and safe. But the home had been the last thing making you feel safe in that moment. It was the man sitting next to you, telling you to let him help you.
“I want to help you. Let me.”
The same night he’d made the promise to find a therapist for you. Then, you were in his bed that night. . .Your cheek, on his damp chest.
Tears were falling on his chest, your chest was tight as they kept coming, his skin prickling in their wake. “I–I’m sor–sorry.”
“Why, baby?” His voice settled your nerves. Warm. Soft. Him.
“I hate that you have to see me cry,” you sniffled, wiping at the tears on his chest. But instead of letting you continue, he’d held your hand there, so you could feel the stable beat of his heart.
“If crying is what it takes to heal, I’m here to listen to you as you wade through it.”
And, then, again. . . those same words filtered through your memory through a warm haze.
Laying on top of him, in his bed, as you’d stared deeply into the darkness of his eyes, he’d earnestly spoken to you. “I want to help you. Let me.”
“Okay,” you sighed in the present time, your eyes not containing the pools accumulating in them, a singular tear falling down your cheek.
Thankfully, it happened when he had decided to go back into his room to get something. And as soon as you’d brushed it away, he was back in front of you and had his phone in his hand. It was open, his fingers above the keyboard to show he was about to start typing.
“What do you want me to tell her you need me for?” He looked up at you, hands steady around the phone as his eyes waited for you. His eyes, open and willing to help. Willing to understand. “I don’t have to tell her that it’s for therapy.”
“You can tell her it’s for therapy,” you responded. His brow raised, as if to ask ‘you sure?’, to which you responded, “I’m sure,” you grinned. Then, you continued on with what would be a valid excuse to give her for why you wanted him to go. “Just tell her you have to drive me to the appointments I have on those days because it’s a long drive that I don’t want to take by myself.”
His lips lifted easily, eyes tired, still, but wholly there with you to help. “Okay.”
As he typed, you stood there–so grateful for him. God, he was amazing. You could not believe there was ever a time you’d thought any different. Jake Kiszka. . . he was the man of fucking dreams. You knew he was. And you’d. . . let him go.
But, as you still believed, it was for good reason that you’d cut things off.
It kept lines drawn and clear and simple. Kept him focused on the dream. It just helped. Right?
Once he’d shoved the phone in his pocket and you’d heard the sending noise and the click of the phone going off, you decided to go ahead and let him be. You began walking to your room, and he started walking in the direction of the front of the apartment. Just as you’d opened your door, suddenly very sleepy and sore from your body growing a human, you spoke again. “Thank you, Jake.”
He turned as soon as you’d spoken, his gaze calm and falling on yours gently. His eyes felt like the breeze on a warm, spring day. The same sort of day you’d imagined in your safe place.
“Don’t thank me,” he started. His phone chimed in his pocket, but he didn’t even reach for it. Instead, he crossed to you once more, your chest heating at him coming close again. And, once more, his hand reached up to delicately hold your face. The callouses that grazed your cheek brought so much comfort. They were familiar and felt like peace. “This is something I want to do. You don’t have to thank me.”
Your mouth opened to dispute and as soon as you did, he saw it.
At this, his lips lifted and he held your cheek fully in his palm, eyes boring into yours as he spoke. “Don’t argue with me. I mean every word. And you know it.”
-🌼🌼🌼-
Life was finally feeling peaceful again with Jake back in it, and in the know about the baby. Having him as a friend in your life was filling your cup – just the mere knowledge of him being there made you rest easier. Every morning was the same. A comfortable, reassuring sort of same.
You’d wake up, and lay in your bed for a few minutes, rubbing your belly. Checking the Ovia app to read something new about the baby to start the day, you’d also check the size of the baby on that given week for the 100th time on that given week. After clicking your phone off, you would lay there and ponder your day and everything that you had to do.
And once your feet touched the ground, you were walking to grab underwear, a maternity bra (because, yes, you’d purchased one with the speed your boobs had grown). Then came the outfit you’d set out the night before. (Even though sometimes, there would be a last minute change in wardrobe due to day-to-day changes in your body – the insecurities were slowly becoming very real, the more your body changed. And even the teeniest, tiniest changes were strikingly obvious to you.)
The bathroom was your next stop. You’d take off the heart monitor before your shower, brush your teeth, and in the shower, you would glance down at your belly, water washing over it, to reflect on the person inside of it and how he or she was growing. And these days, you spent a lot of time wondering if the baby was a he or she. . . Just as you’d lean towards one guess, you’d lean towards the other. On certain days, you would wash your hair and if it hadn’t been very long, you’d skip that step.
Once finished with the shower, you’d observe yourself to see if any stretch marks had grown, and at this point, a few had shown up, so a special cream was one the way that would be added to your morning and nightly routine to help prevent those from sticking around. Now, all you did was brush your hair and usually put it in a claw clip to avoid sweating profusely by keeping it against your neck. Then, you’d replace the adhesive of your heart monitor and adjust it to track your heart rate.
You were so ready to be done with the stupid fucking device. It was a pain for many reasons. . . and you just hated the way it looked on your chest. It was a huge blemish on your changing body. A body that you were already feeling insecure enough about, even without the monitor.
When you’d trail back to your bedroom after your shower, you finished out the routine by taking your prenatals, checking your hemoglobin (which was doing consistently well, relieving you every time you saw the numbers stay positive), and you would pop a PregEase into your mouth to chew. The chewable had helped drastically with your nausea, and you weren’t planning on stopping it any time soon.
Finally, you’d go to the kitchen counter after making a smoothie in your BlendJet, and sit there to sip it as you read through The Panic-Free Pregnancy, taking notes in a notebook you’d purchased solely for baby notes.
And, now, since Jake had found out, he’d greet you in the kitchen or on your way to the bathroom to shower and he’d check on the baby. Check on how you were feeling. It always made you blush with the fact that he cared to check in. It was just really fucking sweet of him. Showed his heart. Of course, it wasn’t for you, it was for the baby. But still. . . it made your heart skip a beat.
The day before Thanksgiving was no different. Except, this morning, Jake stopped you just as you’d grabbed your backpack and opened the door to leave for school.
“Hey,” he called out to you. Your phone buzzed in your black LuluLemon, slung across your chest. When you turned, he flashed his phone screen towards you briefly. “Josh just texted in the group chat and asked if it was okay for us to have Friendsgiving here like you usually do. Day after Thanksgiving. Want me to tell him it’s fine?”
“Of course,” you grinned, getting your phone out to see the text for yourself. But, as you did, you also saw you were cutting it close to make it to class on time. Grabbing your keys out of your bag, you quickly responded, opening the door wider, one foot out. “Just tell him yes.”
He began typing as you went to walk out, the Jetta gave its signature beep across the parking lot as you unlocked it. But just as you stepped out, you stopped. Fuck. You’d have to clean the place.
Normally, it would be no big deal, but you were still working long hours and keeping up with several classes while also being pregnant. . .
So, you stepped back into the apartment, hand still holding the door open. You glanced up at him, accepting your fate. “I'll probably be cleaning the apartment tonight. I don’t want to have to fight any real baby tiredness on top of any food baby tiredness tomorrow night. I already get sleepy at the end of Thanksgiving Day, and I’m sure it’ll just be worse this year with,” you pointed to your belly.
His eyes twinkled, but he didn’t say anything. . .probably because you were rambling and he was annoyed by it.
You twisted the knob, needing to leave, but wanting to let him know, “You can find something to do tonight so you don’t have to be around me and my obsessive compulsive cleaning habits.”
He raised a brow, placing his phone on the counter. “Would it be okay if I helped you clean?”
“Um,” you faltered, nervous of him seeing that cringeworthy side of you. “I get really intense when I clean for special events.”
“I’m sure,” he grinned, winking. Your tummy swarmed with butterflies at the gesture. He continued, “But I still want to help you. Will you let me?”
Let him.
“I get kind of scary.”
“I don’t care.”
You measured him with your eyes, contemplating. It wasn’t that you wouldn’t love his help. . . It would be fantastic to have someone help you. You just didn’t want to scare him away.
You’re having his baby, y/n. Did you scare him away when he found out about that? Or did he want to help you then, too? And what about when he–?
“Sure,” you said, promptly cutting off the voice in your head. “You can help. I’m just warning you. My control issues are bound to go haywire when I deep clean.”
“For good reason,” he defended. “In that circumstance.”
Your lips raising into a soft smile couldn’t be stopped. “Thanks, Jake.”
The soft smile didn’t leave your face as you made the trek to your car.
Then it all came crashing down when you passed Maya in all of her graceful, voluptuous beauty, right before you got to your car. Your outfit of a giant sweater and loose AE jeans suddenly paled in comparison to her sexy black pencil skirt and tight white button-up shirt. Her perfume, sweet and expensive, wafting off of her in waves as she passed by you with a smile and a quick wave. Then there was you: wearing your Bath and Body Works body spray that you got on sale for $5.95.
Her heels clicked past you as your old white Nikes caught a rock and almost made you trip, eliciting a weird noise from your mouth. Hand on the belly, you caught yourself – not so gracefully. When you looked behind you to see if she’d witnessed it, she was already knocking on the door of the apartment. . .and being greeted with a kiss from Jake. The smile was absolutely wiped off your face at the sight of that.
Of course, your mind traveled to a not-so-fun place as you buckled into your car and went to turn on your soul music playlist. You just sat there, contemplating once more how much it sucked that you couldn’t be with him. It was even more sad with your predicament – it made your heart jump into your throat that you couldn’t complete the natural circle of two parents with a baby.
The song that started off the playlist was perfect for bringing you out of your slump, though. The Commodores singing about being ”High On Sunshine” reminded you of how serene and peaceful you’d felt when you’d woken up. Life was going well. . .Truly, completely well. You didn’t need a relationship with Jake to complete a circle of sorts. . . Really. Especially at this point in your life.
You could be friends – it really wouldn’t be so bad. Just friends. You’d take what you could get. Things would be fine.
-🌼🌼🌼-
“I don’t mind you telling her now,” you mentioned that night, packing up a nice dinner he’d made after you’d cleaned the entire apartment.
He’d made chicken fajitas.
Considering the meal was a crowd favorite (the crowd being you and the baby), it had been wonderful when you’d found out tonight how damn good he was at making them. Although, saying that you were packing it up into leftover containers with him. . .was a lie.
You were leaning against the ledge of the counter top, watching him put it in Tupperware. He’d told you to sit and rest your feet and that he would worry about putting it away. Only agreeing halfway, you sure rested but didn’t rest your feet like he’d asked. After quietly accepting the offer with a quiet okay, you nodded your head. Then, you went to stand against the counter.
“Please. Sit.” He’d encouraged, his voice slightly impatient, already weary with you. By the look in his eyes, you knew that he knew it was no use and that you weren’t going to agree. “You had to go to school and workwork today. You should rest your feet.”
Even though your feet did hurt like hell, you still weren’t about to let him boss you around.
“Nah, I think I’m good,” you replied, shrugging. You took turns balancing and bouncing between each foot, totally giving you away. “I sit around too much.”
“Y/n.”
“Jake.”
He’d given you a look. And you had stared right back until he gave up and rolled his eyes before going about his business.
In the present time, he was once again peering at you. But this time, his eye brow was raised in curiosity. “What?” He asked, unsure.
“You can tell Maya if you want,” you repeated, your eyes encouraging. “Tell her that you’re having a baby,” you laughed under your breath at that. A piece of hair fell from its place behind your ear. “Or, I guess, if we’re being technical. . . That I’m having your baby.”
He didn’t laugh along with the funny wording, just continued looking at you like you’d grown three heads.
“Why?”
You didn’t know. All you knew was that Maya wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. So, in order to save Jake some extra stress, he’d better tell her sooner rather than later. That was it.
“Just want it to be out in the open,” you stated plainly, shrugging once more. “Josh is going to tell Sam and Daniel for me soon. . . Explain all of the nitty gritty details of us so I don’t have to again.”
His face sank momentarily. Though, it didn’t last long enough for you to be sure if it wasn’t something you’d imagined.
“On top of that, I’m telling my grandparents tomorrow, so you just go ahead and tell her,” you explained further, trying to convince him it was okay.
He blinked a few times, probably processing it all. And then he responded.
“Okay,” he finally said, lips making a lopsided grin, eyes still containing a sense of curiosity.
“Okay,” you echoed, suddenly feeling the reality of him telling her. . . the reality of Josh telling Sammy and Danny. . .
It was about to be out in the open. Everyone was about to know. Not counting the doctors or Gia, a tiny total of four people in your life knew. Only four. You, Elsie, Josh, and Jake. And now, that number was about to increase. And with your permission, no less.
-🌼🌼🌼-
November 24, 2022
You were on your way to your grandparents’ house, Elsie being your chauffeur when you filled her in on all of the therapy appointments (though, not the person secured in your safe place), your heart monitor in all of its ridiculous, agonizing glory.
Then, the boys’ careers came up in conversation. The music. The albums. The photoshoots. You even told her about the fan who called Jake hot. And as she was laughing about the fan interaction, and how uncomfy she was sure it made you, you thought to text Jake something that needed to be said. Something you’d believed in with your whole heart since the beginning. His career.
It was even more important to you now that you were going to have his baby. It had trailed through your mind enough times that you knew you needed to share it with him.
You, 12:02 p.m.: Please don’t put your career on hold for me or the baby.
It took a few moments, when Elsie was in the middle of telling you that she wasn’t sure how she felt about other girls calling Josh hot. You were absently agreeing on not being sure about it when you got the notification of his response.
Jake, 12:05 p.m.: I won’t. I’ll figure it out.
And while you were in the middle of having one hard conversation, you decided on another. Something that broke your heart to say, but you believed in it just like you did the other topic. It was going to be awkward to talk about in person, so you were going to be a coward and hide behind the phone to say it.
You, 12:06 p.m.: We also don’t need to be in a relationship.
After sending it, you instantly realized the perspiration that had gathered on your palms. Instead of talking to Elsie, you just stared at your phone. After finding out, he’d turned his read receipts on, so you were able to see the moment he’d seen the message.
While cleaning the night before, you’d asked him about it and his response was that he had done it so there weren’t any holes in your communication about baby-related things.
Jake, 12:08 p.m.: Never said we did. I don’t need that.
I don’t need that.
Translated, you knew it was a way of saying it would cause unnecessary stress. And you’d be remiss to ignore that the stress would most definitely result from you and your stupid emotional instability. And that thought just reminded you that the baby was the most important person to work on being emotionally stable for–not its father.
Nonetheless, his response hurt way more than it should have. It cut fucking deep. For no reason whatsoever, because you knew he had a point. You believed the same as he did. Your previous text said as much. You just had to think logically.
Jake, 12:09 p.m.: 1, I’m already in a relationship
Jake, 12:09 p.m.: and 2, it’ll be easier for us because we won’t have to worry about a relationship. It’s good that we’re just friends.
He was right. He made sense. You knew it. It was good to be just friends.
You, 12:10 p.m.: You are very right. I’m glad we’re on the same page.
Jake, 12:10 p.m.: and as far as touring and the band goes, we can figure out how to handle a baby in all of it. We’ll just work in a few more breaks or something
Jake, 12:11 p.m.: don’t worry about that. We’ll be fine.
Jake, 12:11 p.m.: and by “we” I mean you, me and the baby
Right as you’d pulled up to your grandparents’ home, you sent him a final text about it. If you were being totally honest, the conversation made you feel sick to your stomach and you just wanted to focus on the fact that it was Thanksgiving.
There was also the fact that you were more than just a little nervous about rocking your grandparents’ entire world.
You, 12:22 p.m.: Thank you for talking to me about this. We can talk about it more at some other point. Have a good Thanksgiving!
Instantly, he read it. But it took him a bit to respond. You knew he was busy with family and Maya. And again, your stomach was knotted at another thought. Her. Them. Dream couple.
Jake, 12:25 p.m.: for sure. We’ll find time :)
Jake, 12:25 p.m.: happy thanksgiving, y/n. I’m thankful for you. I really hope you know that.
With that last text, your heart sped up, your monitor phone beeping repeatedly in your belt bag to notify you of it. As if you couldn’t already feel the way your heart was about to literally beat out of your chest at his words. You grumpily unzipped your bag to get it out, locking your phone on your lap.
“Holy shit, dude,” Elsie exclaimed as she shut off the car. “Are you okay?! What’s happening?!”
You reassured her that it was just your monitor telling you your heart rate had gone up. But you made an excuse for why. Didn’t want her on your ass.
“I’m just really nervous to tell Grandma and Grandpa,” you lied.
You didn’t have to wait long for it to stop beeping. Thank God. It was annoying as hell, calling you out when you did not want to be called out. Finally, it turned off, though.
Elsie’s eyes became sympathetic, her delicate hand coming out to squeeze your sweater-clad arm. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be there the whole time. Deep breaths,” she calmly assured, taking a few with you. “And they’ll honestly just be really excited. Grandma, immediately. . . but Grandpa. . .”
“. . .Might take him a while,” you finished.
Your Grandma wasn’t necessarily your greatest worry, but she had been known to judge a time or two. . . Your Grandpa on the other hand. . . he was in a constant state of disappointment. All in all, you really had no fucking clue what to expect. Within seconds, the two of you were busting up at the thought. He was a pain in the ass. The definition of a crotchety old man. Laughing with Elsie was therapeutic. And this laughter in particular was incredibly necessary.
She waited for you to feel calm enough to go inside, and once you did, you got out to follow Elsie to the door. You never responded to the text. Didn’t even react to it with an exclamation, thumb, or heart. You didn’t want to mess anything up.
So, you just let it be your last positive push before going inside your grandparents’. Because, while it hadn’t been the reason to make your monitor go batshit crazy, it was still incredibly nerve wracking to tell the people that raised you. The idea of telling them that you were pregnant by a man you weren’t in a relationship with. . . yeah.
You closed your eyes momentarily to locate your Safe Place. You’d gotten quite good at finding it. All you had to do was close your eyes and call it. But as Elsie unlocked the door to let the two of you in, the present time was unkindly welcoming you back in with anxious arms.
Deep. Fucking. Breaths.
-🌼🌼🌼-
Thanksgiving was one of your favorite holidays. Christmas was your absolute favorite, but Thanksgiving was right up there, just behind it.
For one, it meant your whole family got to be together for a holiday, and you loved getting to spend time with your family. It felt more special than just about anything else. . . and Thanksgiving was so great because it was just a day where you sat around, eating food, being with each other, talking and laughing. It was a holiday meant to force you to ruminate on why you were thankful for each other– a holiday that was designed to bring out the best in a person.
The hope that your grandparents would only have love in their hearts when they heard your news was the only thing that had pulled you and your nerves through the doorway. The same doorway you’d entered through a million and one times before. Except this time, someone else was entering with you. Your hand touched subconsciously to your rounded belly. There was nothing you could do about your predicament now, so you could only hope for the best responses they could muster.
As you walked in, the smell of your Grandma’s ever-famous smoked turkey flooded your senses, momentarily calming you. It reminded you of the main reason Thanksgiving and Christmas were your favorite holidays. They’d been that way for years–as long as you could remember. Her turkey was an absolute favorite of yours dating all the way back to your childhood. Cooking was her love language, and you first learned that before you ever went to live with your grandparents. You could remember loving it and finding solace in the taste of her full, home cooked meal on the rare occasion that your mom decided to celebrate the holidays with her parents.
The taste and aroma of your Grandmother’s food represented peace for you–especially her holiday food. Holidays were special because they were the only time you were ever able to escape your mother and the now-hazy situations she’d put you in for the first ten years of your life. And then, when you’d gone to live with them, you’d finally found safety and security. . . The taste of her food had just continued its pattern of bringing you the feeling of comfort.
The times your mom would tote you and Elsie over state lines to see them were always very special. They were bittersweet memories for you. It was the only way you’d been able to see your grandparents then, as she never made them privy to your changing living locations. The three of you were always on the move. Never in one place for too long. But every home was dirtier than the last, a new man who would occupy it, as if anxiously anticipating your arrival.
You shook your head at those times–didn’t want to think about it for too long. Those thoughts led down dangerous, terrifying, dark paths that you didn’t want to experience on a day like today. Those times were the ones you’d explore in EMDR with a licensed professional at the ready to help guide you.
You’d decided years ago that you weren’t going to venture down those paths alone. Didn’t want to bother Elsie, so instead, you’d instead pushed the memories away to near nonexistence. And. . . today was not the day you planned to change that. You wanted Gia with you for that, thank you very much.
As you walked closer to the kitchen, you heard the sounds of your grandparents’ laughter, sounding so much like you were used to. . . You could only hope and pray to everything that it would continue on as normal—as normal as it could be—after they found out your big news.
The warm hugs and expressions of joy that greeted you as the two of you rounded the corner were both a reassurance and an added stressor to your shaky nerves. You really didn’t want to shake their world too much. . . Didn’t want this to change. This was your first true home. They were your first people.
The people who took you and your sister in when you had no one else, the ones who raised you, showed you love when it felt your entire world lacked it. You couldn’t quite rid the apprehension to tell them. You would not be able to until the news officially left your mouth.
-🌼🌼🌼-
“I’m pregnant.”
The sound of forks clinking against plates and the deafening sound of silence surrounded the entire dining room. You weren’t sure where the fuck it had come from–why you’d chosen to say it when you did. . . but there was no doubt it was out now. No questions were asked. Not yet. All eyes in the room, trained on you. Everyone sat still, totally unmoving and in total shock.
Thankfully, only a few moments of it had to pass before your sister broke the silence. She was trying to buy some peace for you. Just as much as you, she was not a fan of awkward silence or tension.
“I, for one, am so, so excited,” Elsie beamed, looking back and forth between your grandparents, whose mouths were still clamped shut. “It’s going to be wonderful–the sweetest addition to this family!”
After only a few seconds of Elsie’s attempt to ease the air, your Grandma started blinking and you soon realized that she was blinking back tears. Oh no. . . was she upset? Disappointed? The woman who raised you so well – loved you better than anyone ever had before, who took you in when no one else wanted you. . . She didn’t need to sit there feeling any negative emotions only because of your careless decision. Just like she’d done for you, you needed to comfort her in this moment of unclarity.
You went to rise from your seat, beginning an explanation you weren’t quite sure of yet once you were standing. “Grandma, I–.”
“Babygirl!” Your Grandmother exclaimed, bursting into tears. And before you could make it from where you stood beside your floral padded chair, she was walking to you – as fast as her frail legs could carry her. Even though you watched her every move, the feeling of her arms wrapping around you came before you expected it to. “We couldn’t be happier. I don’t even have to look at your Grandfather to know he’s as ecstatic as me. I know he loves you just like I do,” she sighed, squeezing you gently. Her shaky, familiar voice spoke softly in your ear, “A baby is the greatest gift – especially if it’s one of my babies’ babies.”
You blinked back all of the emotion that nestled comfortably into your bones. The distinct, wistfully familiar notes of Chanel No. 5 wrapped around you as tight as her arms. And, suddenly, the scent had you back in a mirage of memories where she was holding you just the same.
The first time a boy had broken your heart at thirteen years old. When you fell off your bike the month after you moved in with them, crying more over your mother than the bike wreck. Anytime you and Elsie got into some asinine bickering match that only your Grandmother could settle. . . So many times she’d held you just like this. Except this time, you felt it differently, gripped closer to her, not ready to let go. . . you’d needed this so badly. Hadn’t even realized just how badly you needed to feel her hold you after finding this out.
You sniffed, finally letting yourself part from her. She wasn’t going to be the first to let go, so you made the move. “Grandma,” you looked directly into her eyes, getting lost in the aging, watery icy blue irises. “Your approval – and Grandpa’s,” you glanced at him briefly, a small smile on his face as he watched you. Your heart leapt. “It meant more to me than anyone else’s.”
Elsie huffed and made a noise. Your Grandma giggled at Elsie’s indignance. You rolled your eyes, turning to your sister for a split second to give her a look, then faced the aging woman once more. “Almost anyone else’s. I was just scared to let you down, although I. . .,” you paused momentarily, blinking back tears as her perfume infiltrated your senses once more as she pushed some hair delicately behind your ear. “I should have known better than that.”
“My precious babygirl, there is nothing you could ever do that would make us think less of you,” she insisted, bringing her hand down to your arm, softly soothing circles into your flesh through your sweater. “Not only have we told you that your entire life, but I could only hope we have been able to show it to you. Just how much you mean and how we are always on your side – no matter what.”
-🌼🌼🌼-
The rest of the dinner and dessert went on about the same, with your Grandpa actually receiving the news very well–only grumbling slightly at the idea of the father not being around.
To which Elsie had quickly defended with a correction, pointed straight at your Grandfather, her eyes glued to him. “Don’t be so quick to make assumptions, Grandpa.”
You’d joined in, too, not wanting her to have to approach that on her own. It wasn’t her responsibility to have to make any reassurances for your mindless decision.
“He is in the picture, Grandpa,” you assured, swallowing your bite of pumpkin pie. Your eyes linked with his, begging him to understand. “I never said he wasn’t. I only said that I didn’t want to tell you who he is yet.”
After that, he’d simmered down on the father subject enough for dessert to finish up. And, as Elsie and your Grandma went to put away leftovers, you led the way to the living room to set up A Christmas Story. It was a Thanksgiving tradition to watch it after stuffing your faces to the point of exhaustion.
Just as you’d gotten the movie queued up, you heard his telling sigh behind you. His years-old maroon, fabric recliner, moaning with the sudden weight of a person. You gave him the slightest smile, still unsure of how to act around him as he’d been supportive, just quiet about it.
His reaction could definitely be expected, but you didn’t want it. You just wanted him to not act crotchety, just this once. Problem was, you were kind of stuck on what to say. So, instead of saying anything to initiate conversation, you sat on your phone, checking Instagram stories.
So many fucking coupley photos with the most generic captions. But, to your complete relief, nothing had yet been posted by Jake or Maya (yes, you followed her now–for no other reason but to torture yourself). Just as you were about to check your Ovia app for the second time that day, you heard your Grandpa clear his throat.
You just acted oblivious, though, not wanting to look up unless he actually wanted to talk. Didn’t want to push him or anything. . . poke the bear.
“Sugarplum,” he started, using the nickname he’d penned for you years ago.
Your heart lightened at the nickname. Anytime he used it, you knew he was about to say something sweet and slightly outside of his comfort zone. And by that, it meant he was going to say something particularly tender and sweet. Two things he was not used to being. . . Save for the heart he’d had when he started using the nickname. It had come at a sensitive time.
The nickname came from a precious tradition. After you’d come to live with them, he’d started the tradition. The man had been determined to make you and your sister feel better, and he’d always been better with actions than words. So, the year your sister and you had come to live with them, he’d started taking you to the Nutcracker. It was a whole thing.
Every Christmas season, your family of four would get all dolled up (you and Elsie, having had matching Christmas dresses and ringlet curls–hair-sprayed to the point of crunchy– the first couple of years). Then, you’d go eat at Carmine’s before attending a performance of the Nutcracker ballet – always at David H. Koch Theater.
You weren’t sure what he was about to say, but the nickname always meant it was going to be rather softhearted.
“Sweetie,” he sighed. You looked at him, seeing every wrinkle and age spot on his worn features. His face held every ounce of compassion you were sure he could muster. Your eyes already teary at the cold, snowy memories you’d just re-lived, and seeing him in such a vulnerable state had you gasp just slightly. “I love this baby. I love you. And I am so happy for you–overjoyed,” he said, singing it in the tone of the Stevie Wonder tune. You gasped on another breath, a tear springing from your eye to cheek. “Very, very much so, honey.”
“Really?” You couldn’t help but mutter.
“With all my heart I mean it,” he confirmed, eyes crinkling at the edges with a smile in them. “I only get short-tempered about the father because I don’t want to witness the child being abandoned or betrayed by men the way you and Elsie–,” he shook his head, draining a thought he was in the middle of. He grunted, eyes glassy when he looked at you again. “I don’t need this baby’s father being absent like yours was, is all. I get infinitely resentful on the subject of the people who did you and your sister wrong. . . and I just can’t have that for my great-grandchild either.”
There was no response you could possibly give save for the intermittent sniffles that accompanied the tears that wetted your cheeks. So, all you did was nod, a shaky smile on your lips. The man deeply loved you. You knew that. But, it made your heart hurt in a strange way when he’d say things that truly proved it. . . since he so rarely did. The baby must have meant a lot to him already, for him to feel so inclined to bare his heart like this.
“I love that child and I will protect it in my role as long as I can,” he said, his own voice wobbling on the words. “I promise you, Sugarplum. Just like I did for you and your sister.”
After a couple of moments, you found something to say, out of the mess of emotions hugging your heart.
“This baby’s father will be nothing like ours,” you said, without a doubt. You barely remembered the man who’d helped make the two of you. He hadn’t ever really been around–a sperm donor at best. “He’s an incredible man. The baby is very lucky to have him.”
The words pinched your chest, your stomach twisting tight on what you’d said. . . Jake was so wonderful. Even if he didn’t want you, he wanted the baby. You knew that. You knew it. You had seen it in his eyes the moment you’d said the baby was his. Jake Kiszka was special and you were glad your baby would be part of him–was already part of him. You were glad the baby had him.
You just weren’t ready to tell your grandparents it was him. . . you didn’t want either of them to unrightfully judge Jake if they were to know. Especially your Grandfather. . . they’d had such an honest, genuine connection. It had been magical to witness. Jake, having been the person to bring the old man out of his shell for the first time in your entire life.
You knew you had to tell them soon, but it just didn’t feel like the right time quite yet. . . There was so much going on already. The two of them finding out the identity of the baby’s father could wait just a little longer.
-🌼🌼🌼-
You got home around eleven o’clock that night, after taking Elsie to Josh’s. The night had been exactly what your soul needed. Time with your Grandma and Grandpa, as well as a car jam session with Elsie on the way to her boyfriend’s apartment.
The reason you’d finished so late was because your grandparents hadn’t really wanted the night to end. After sitting through every end credit of A Christmas Story, you’d rented the brand new A Christmas Story Christmas on the Roku TV you’d Christmas-gifted the two elderly people a year ago.
Although, you hadn’t ended up paying much attention to the movie since your grandparents had been determined to hear all about Elsie’s travels and your current. . . predicament. They had also questioned you about school.
Thankfully, you’d given a few barely-there answers and the conversation had basically concluded on that subject. There hadn’t even been an onslaught of career-based questions. All of the baby-related inquiries had been a good distraction from that.
They’d even stayed up past their bedtime of nine o’clock, aiming to hear every last detail of your life and Elsie’s. But, there’d come a point that your Grandpa had fallen asleep as he’d tuned out, signaling the end of the evening.
So, at 11:00, you were finally pulling in to the apartment complex, safe and sound into your designated parking spot. Jake’s car was where he usually parked it, you noticed. But, you already knew he was home. He’d texted about an hour back asking when you’d be home, to which you’d responded with an I don’t know, a little flutter in your tummy as you typed.
Even though he hadn’t responded, it didn’t crush you. Truly. You were becoming accustomed to your present relationship with him. . . well. . . .at least you were really trying to become accustomed.
On the way up to the apartment, you barely made the last step with how utterly exhausted you were. The act of carrying a child was not easy work and honestly, your grandparents hadn’t been the only ones staying up past their bedtime. You’d kept the heavy-lidded blinking at bay at your childhood home, but as you unlocked the door, you let out a long yawn which felt like it’d been waiting for hours to be released. Because it had been. You hadn’t wanted to be rude while engaging in conversation. Felt so relaxing and the action in and of itself had totally drained you. Your comfy, cozy bed was calling you.
When you entered the apartment, you were assaulted by the wondrous smells of something sweet and sugary–the scent was closely comparable to cake or cupcakes. You almost let your nose drag you to the source, but when you looked into the kitchen on your trek to your bedroom, you hastily decided against that idea. And you suddenly felt like you were going to profusely vomit.
Jake, with his back facing you as he leaned against the kitchen island, his fingers grasping at nothing, only gripping what he could of the counter his ass was pressing against. His beautiful locks of hair were all stringy and messy–the telling sign of hands having been run through it. His moans were enough to make you grow chills from both distaste and lust. The sound of him reaching his release was unlike any other. . .
But the infuriating fact that it was coming from the tanned, curvaceous woman on her knees in front of him. Who, unfortunately, you could see from the side of the island. And to make matters worse, she was barely fucking clothed. A tiny sheer dress of black lingerie, the only thing you could see from your vantage point. She had her free hand bunched into the material at the back of his gray t-shirt, holding onto him for dear fucking life as she went to town.
When the bile rose to your throat, you knew you had to get away before you threw up. You did not want to puke up any Thanksgiving food, thank you very much. Couldn’t ruin the sentimental dishes only because of Jake and his frustratingly beautiful girlfriend.
To your relief, once you made it to your room, quiet as a mouse, you found your Stanley as cold as you’d left it (praises-fucking-be for Stanley insulation). And you didn’t have to force sleep after you’d taken a quick makeup wipe to your face and put on an oversized Pratt t-shirt.
The moans and groans and whiny-fucking-sighs from the kitchen faded out in no time as sleep almost instantly found you.
Thank fucking God for the tiredness that came with making a human.
-🌼🌼🌼-
a/n: see you tomorrow w part 2... Friendsgiving will kick off pt 2... there is so much to come ;)
ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts! love youuuu <3
& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)
Taglist: @joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssoloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend, @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98
(and, due to t*mblr’s shitass guidelines, i will be adding the other tags in a reblog of the story!)
#jake kiszka x reader#jake kiszka fic#jake kiszka fanfic#jake fic#my fics#covet#every chapter from here on out includes very major events for reader and jake#take with that what you will
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[CN] MLQC Lucien’s Moisturize ASMR translation
⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️
This post contains a detailed spoiler for an ASMR that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~
[IMPORTANT]
⚠️ NSFW WARNING! The content of this ASMR is VERY VIVIDLY EXPLICIT and NOT suitable for individuals under the age of 18. It is recommended that those who do not meet this age requirement refrain from proceeding beyond this point.
I can't upload this on YouTube because YouTube deemed it as too explicit. So I upload the full version on Twitter AND Google Drive. Below the cut is only the transcript.
Google Drive link [ here ]
Twitter link [ here ]
OKAY SO before we start I want to mention some things:
This ASMR is from a CHINESE GAME, and as you know the censorship here is heavy, so explicit content relies on our imagination. The 🔞 elements need to be cleverly disguised; and in this ASMR they use… playing with slime. "Yes officer, they're just playing with slime. What zipper sound? It's from his coat." 🤪
But you can BET those noises aren't slimes (at least during the second half). It's heavily hinted that they gave each other's private parts 👅💦. Hence the ASMR name "水润”/”Moisturize”, which can convey the idea of something being moistened by """"water"""". What else is getting moistened right here except you-know-what 👀
✄----------------------
[ASMR - Moisturize Transcript]
[ sound of Lucien typing the password of the villa and then opens the door ]
[ Lucien sighs and chuckles ]
Once inside,
I can feel the temperature difference of nearly twenty degrees between indoors and outdoors.
Can you hand me my coat?
[ rustling noises as MC hands over his coat ]
Hmm?
It seems that this lady
forgot what was still in my pocket.
[ Lucien chuckles ]
Can I take it out?
[ sounds of the coat zipper as he takes out the item]
What is this?
[ chuckles ]
It seems to be a box of
glue-like stuff.
There are a few gardenia flowers on top.
Is it called 'slime'?
Indeed, it's quite vivid.
Was it bought at the night market
to give to me?
Then, can you teach me
how to play with this?
[ sounds of the slime getting opened ]
[ slime noises ]
Is it played like this?
Hmm
It's very soft.
Also quite fascinating.
And, as you mentioned,
it is a toy that has been improved and is very safe to play with.
Can it be poked?
Good.
[ SUS slime noises ]
Hmm
The fingertips wrapped in softness
feel very warm.
Do you want to play together?
I'd like to share this gift with you.
After sticking to the skin…
The slime's texture
becomes slightly damp
it's also sticky and moist
[ sus slime noises in the background ]
Do you find
that this little toy
sparks any particular associations for us?
[ sus slime noises and Lucien sighs ]
[ whispers ] You can't guess?
I think,
this lady already has an answer.
It's just that….
[ Lucien stops his sentence, chuckles and kisses ]
After all,
you're blushing from cheek to ear.
Okay,
then I'll go first.
These warmth,
moistness, and softness…
...are like a certain lady's….
…palms when her body temperature rises.
[ sus slime noises ]
Hmm?
[ chuckles ]
It seems that….
My associations surprised you?
[ chuckles ]
I wasn't asking a leading question.
Now, reveal your answer
Okay?
You are embarrassed to say it…
…and want to answer it with action?
I would give full marks to this classmate for all her ways of answering.
[ rustling noises ]
[ ZIPPER NOISES as she unzips his pants 🤪]
[ Lucien chuckles, then gasps and breathes heavily as she touches his d- ]
[ whispers hoarsely ] I didn't expect….
such a straightforward answer.
So,
this is the thought that makes this lady blush.
I rather feel that
those (slime) sounds are quite different from the noises we usually hear.
[ Lucien moans as he leads her to take him into her mouth ]
For example…
[ SUS RHYTHMICAL AND WET NOISES AS SHE SUCKS HIS D- ]
[ breathlessly ] This sound would be more similar
isn't it?
[ rhythmical and wet noises continue in the background, rattling noises as Lucien possibly begins to put the lid of the slimes + Lucien gasps and chuckles ]
I always feel that
the little toy on the table is not as fun anymore.
[ breathlessly whispers ] Of course, I like it.
[ breathlessly ] It's just that….
To the lady who gives me this gift….
[ Lucien gasps and then breathlessly whispers ] I’d rather express my gratitude…
[ the rhythmical and wet noises gradually stop ]
[ …i-is he shooting ropes- ]
[ Lucien steadies his breath ]
[ in a much calmer tone after he blows off his load ] …Probably due to the significant temperature difference between indoors and outdoors,
the glue in the composition starts to dissolve away.
It gets a bit sticky.
Or perhaps I poked too fast.
and ended up breaking this small teaching toy.
(T/N: lol here goes our 'cover story' 🤪. Officer, those sounds are TOTALLY from playing with slimes. Huh, 'Why does it make him breathless'? He just gets excited when teaching her, that's all 😋 )
[rustling noises]
Next time, after you buy one,
you can give it to me first.
I'll keep it safe.
[Lucien shuts the lid of the slimes]
To make up for this time,
What's next…
Is it time to move on to the practical part of the lesson?
(T/N: a.k.a the actual sex instead of just foreplay-)
I wonder if this classmate
is willing to 'assist' me?
[ rustling noises as he puts her on a surface ]
[ kissing noises as he kisses her in ✨places✨ ]
I really like your 'answers'.
They make it hard for me…
...to think straight.
[ more kissing noises as he moves lower and lower -]
Now,
let me repay you.
[ NOISES OF HIM EATING HER OUT. It's only right to repay oral with another oral- and she needs to be 'moisturized' before accepting him right- ]
I will hold my happiness,
and share all of them with you.
[ more noises of him eating her out as the sounds gradually fade- ]
#HOW IS THIS EVEN ALLOWED#mlqc lucien#mr love queen's choice#mlqc cn#mlqc spoiler#mlqc#mlqc translation#mr. love queen's choice#mr love lucien#mlqc xu mo#mlqc spoilers
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dreamt a cipher
a shepard/garrus post-destroy ending longfic.
[AO3 link]
I’ve debated a while about when to start posting this. Now it’s the new year, and I’ve been working on Cipher for over a year and a half, and I’ve waited long enough to start sharing it with you all. I’ve decided it’s finally time to start uploading while I work on the final chapters.
I started writing this before I ever drew a single piece of fanart for Mass Effect. It’s all the things that were bouncing around in my head after choosing the destroy ending with a mostly-paragon Shepard—consequence and responsibility and self-recrimination; her relationship with Garrus and with herself; their ties to each other and how much weight they can bear; their differing perspectives and how they slot together—all that fun stuff—compressed into a story, a place, a narrative.
I believe in the power of love, and I promise a happy ending. They’ve just been taking the long way to get there. Feel free to yell at me in the meantime.
A huge thank you to @callista-curations for her meticulous and invaluable beta work, and to @that-wildwolf and @gammaraydeath for being the best hypemen I could ask for!
A more detailed list of warnings can be found on AO3.
I've posted the full cover art here.
────
Summary:
Pairing: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian Rating: M (subject to change) Important Tags: post-destroy ending - angst with a happy ending - slow burn (of sorts) - arguing - reconciliation - survivor guilt - minor original characters Her own personal Noverian peak. That’s what it was supposed to be. Nothing but the discovery: no distractions, no comfort, no windows looking out—no familiar faces. But it's starting to look like her winning streak might have ended in that pile of Citadel rubble, if it ever extended that far to begin with. ──── “How does the Earth idiom go? No use beating a dead—” A long-suffering sigh. “What was it again?” “A dead horse. And yet, you’re here. Beating it.” Pot, kettle. She wishes he’d just fucking say it.
-> AO3.
Read the start of Chapter 1: Constant Velocity under the cut!
────
The overhead lights flicker as they always do when the data screens are up and running. It’s not something one gets used to, even so. It stings at her ocular nerves—or something like that, anyway, somewhere along the delicate wires that extend from her eyeballs into her brain—but her focus on the data doesn’t waver.
“In that case,” says Shepard, squinting against the ache, “what we need is salvage from a relay outside the immediate burst zone. Four jumps away. Five, if possible. There’s no point to any of this if we can’t scrape together a control group.”
She glances back at Elsawy, who so far hasn’t made it more than a meter into the room. She nods without looking up from her omni-tool; orange shimmers off her shiny, black hair, giving her the uncomfortable air of a Cerberus operative. Not the worst comparison, except that Miranda would waste no time letting her know if her logic took a faulty turn somewhere. Elsawy’s just as likely to agree now and write a message detailing all her crap conclusions later.
Leaning her hip against the conference table, Shepard shifts her weight off her left leg, bites down on the sigh that almost manages to slip out. Once in the clear, she grouses, “Where the hell is Meyer? He’s the one that called this meeting.”
As it is, it’s three people in attendance and she’s the only one talking. She could’ve achieved the same results with a voice call from her quarters, where she could elevate her leg in peace and without witnesses. In the dark.
“Lab Two,” answers Elsawy, finally ripping her attention off the omni-screen and gracing Shepard with a second of eye contact. Maybe in another life she could appreciate the effort—Jesus, as if she hasn’t had her fill of lives already. “We’re close to a breakthrough on the initial output patterns. Sorry. He’s been feeding his data to me.”
“Right.” She blinks once, twice, in time with the flickering. It doesn’t help; it never does. “I’ll swing by later, then. Anything else he asked you to relay?”
“Just that, Commander.” Elsawy is mumbling just enough that her voice has to compete with the drone of the air vents. The translator takes a second to filter out and amplify it. The result is less than perfect: “More salvage—” bzzrt—“bigger picture, you got it.” She narrows her eyes, and Shepard raises a brow. “Left leg or—” bzz!—“left hip?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Commander.”
“It’s nothing relevant,” she says pleasantly, forcing herself to stand up straight again. There’s a brief tremor shaking up her hamstrings; she waves a hand to distract from it. In the frenzy of the lights, the movement looks jerky, nervous. She soldiers on. “Old field injury. Unrelated. Anything can set it off.”
Funny, kind of, since it’s that very leg that ends in the most perfect, cooperative example of a foot she’s ever had the pleasure of treading on. It’s cloned; a replacement. Not the only one either. They should’ve just done away with the whole limb, but she hadn’t been consulted. Same with her trick shoulder. Not even Cerberus had managed to get that one back on the straight and narrow.
“I’d rather you bring it up with the doctor,” replies Elsawy. This is, apparently, what it takes for her to finally speak at a reasonable volume. “If we manage to fill even one of the data gaps…”
“I know,” she says. “I know, and I’m telling you, it’s unrelated.”
-> continue reading on AO3
#mass effect fanfiction#shakarian#fanfic#shakarian fic#oh GOD. here it is. I'm BIRTHING this baby like Shepard birthed grunt#I'm so nervous but I am really proud of this story so Take it.#cipher tag
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@comment-bingo get me on that Blackout Prize List!!
These are all AO3 fics I commented on because.... I like fics. What about it. Perhaps on my next bingo card I'll remember to comment on some fanart and fanvids...
List of what I commented on under the cut! Because I'm a nerd.
Action/Adventure: Slapdash Neural Wiring by potatoturnipbean. This fic is part 2 of a series, but you can start by reading this one no problem. (That's what I did.) Featuring original construct characters set in the Murderbot Diaries universe, amazing heist fiction, drama, emotional turmoil, cool scifi gadgets, and line after line of hilarious, snappy prose. Do you want to be mercilessly punched in the emotions while laughing at the same time? Have you been craving a book that's exactly like Murderbot in tone and setting, but a littttle bit different? Do you want something gripping and fun and affecting? This fic is incredible and I'll tell anyone who listens. For free. Pleaes read Slapdash Neural Wiring it's an amazing work that needs love.
Poetry/Filk: Poetry installation: Untitled ("my friend always chooses the media") by borth. Very cool stuff. You have to actually read it to appreciate it I think... it's difficult to describe why I like it. In-universe poetry written in a bathroom stall.
Outsider POV: Cinema Verite by BoldlyNo. BoldyNo does it again with sensitive writing that explores canon and characters from various angles, this time it's Ratthi's perspective of creating The Video in System Collapse. Very good. Emotions.
Fave Trope: Road Trip For Science by Thirteen Primes. I don't know what my Fave Trope is, but I love Road Trips, and this fic has got a road trip. The author was inspired by a scene that came to them in a dream. There's something charming about this fic that is difficult to put my finger on. Featuring Mensah who'd done trucking to pay for school when she was younger, and Murderbot, driving a truck through a planet recently opening up to outside trade and which is being courted by corporate rim.
An Author You've Never Read: An Audacious Undertaking, Even to God by lumpy_space_princess. Featuring SecUnit 3, who is desperate to restore and re-upload the consciousnesses of SecUnits 1 and 2. Experience emotions from this fic or your money back. This fic is a multichapter and still updating!
Respond To Other Comment: On Constructs And Cats by ForestWren. Murderbot finds a kitten. What more do you want? It's exactly what you want.
Original Character: Happy Birthday by Jewels9162. Part of a prolific series about rogue Barish-Estranza units and their human handler. Bit of a nice slice-of-life here. About friends and birthdays.
Character Study: Sense of Belonging by ArtemisTheHuntress. Listen. I don't care what plans Martha Wells herself has for SecUnit Three. This fic is what truly happens with it in my heart after the events of System Collapse. It's such a good character study, about finding yourself in the context of a new strange social scene, about grieving what you've lost, about making a positive difference in the world using your specific skills and interests. So good.
Multi-Chapter: Slivers of Existence by musicofthespheres. A collection of loosely-connected ficlets. About Murderbot. It's very nice, okay. A bunch of pleasant scenes you can sip tea over as a pick-me-up. Enjoyable.
Long Fic (5k+ words): Family Portrait by ramshackle_fey. Are you ready to experience emotions about Murderbot and The Mensah Kids? Prepare yourself. Gird your heart.
Bharadwaj's Documentary: If You Want To Write by borth. This is a very neat concept. Chapter 1 is Murderbot and Bharadwaj talking to each other about the illiteracy enforced upon Murderbot by the company, and how Murderbot sneakily learned to read, and how its secretly-gained literacy is what allowed it to hack its governor module. Chapter 2 is a meta text exploring themes of literacy and worker control.
Old Favourite: In Another Life by Lick. Frankly it's impossible for me to pick only one favorite fic, so this is just one of many favorites. Frankly anything written by Lick is a favorite. This one is an AU in which Murderbot continued on its adventures for 4 years before returning to reunite with its humans on Preservation. The shifted dynamics with ART, SecUnit 3, and its humans, are a delight.
Free Space: do humans even dream by BWizard. A 4+1, times Mensah experiences nightmares, as noticed through the eyes of the people close to her. :')
Make a Rec Post: This post.
Crack: mining for copper (or ways to annoy your construct friend) by friendoftheJabberwock. Short and silly. Murderbot must do a very important infiltration at a costume party.
Canon Continuation: In Defense Of What I Never Had by Thylacine_Wishes. You ever want to ruminate on the Implications of Murderbot's shitty creation in comparison to ART's state-of-the-art University birthplace? Welcome. We have baby AIs.
Posted/Updated Pre-2023: precious cargo by FiannlyPhoebe babyfic. Fast forward some Years: Iris and Amena generate a human baby.
Fluff: people look east the time is near by BWizard. The secular space X-mas cookie making vibes. Sweet. Cookie decorating.
Hurt/Comfort: Memory Fault by Yellow. Murderbot and ART in the wake of the difficult events of Network Effect... talk it out.
Bot POV: Hints by i_have_loved_the_stars_too_fondly. Technically this is SecUnit POV. But I'm counting it. An exploration of how Amena may have come and done Murderbot's hair, pre-System Collapse. Made me feel a little sad :') I want them to feel connection and careeeeeee please.
Additional Canonized Tag: Third Dorm Mom by BoldlyNo. The canonized tag in question is "#Pansystem University of Mihira and New Tideland." Y'all this fic is AWESOME. If you love slice of life. If you love character and relationship studies. If you want a fic that is alllll about the relationship between Murderbot and Amena. It's this fic. Warm your heart over the coals, go on.
Fanart with <50 Notes: This collection of drawings by paging-possum. It had <50 notes when I reblogged it with commentary tags. You should check out this artist's works if you like Murderbot. Very nice drawings.
Podfic: [Podfic] Cog in the Machine, by FlipSpring by CompassRose and mistingsidekick on AO3. Come ruminate on the nihilistic POV of the Combat SecUnit that Murderbot faced off against in Exit Strategy.
Funny/Silly Tags: a comforting presence by afjakwrites. The tag in question: "#featuring secunit carrying ratthi bridal style." Consider, if you will: what if Murderbot is Objectively Hot.
Crossover: We Provide... Security by Blue_Bees. Very very good very good crossover!!!!! You don't need to know Leverage. Case fic + screw over Corporations time!
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soo you;re bored i see
how about part 2 to the messing around before class one you did. that was awsome and i N E E D pt 2 for it!
from ya fave fangirl - Maddy!!!!!
A/n: I FINALLY UPLOADED BESTIES! Sorry for the long wait- uh just a warning, this one may not be the best (at least at the end)- I did hint more towards Y/n being a plant monster like venus by mentioning the fact her blood is green and stuff. Also yes, yes I did look up Deuce's middle name for this.
PT 2 to this
POV: Deuce and Y/n skipping class
Deuce and Y/n walked down the halls, scanning for any teachers before bolting down towards one of the secret passageways, this one in the form of a statue of a harpy. Y/n pulled down the statues left wing, causing it to move aside allowing them to go through.
The passageway was dark, damp, dreary and often had a weird decaying smell that they had no idea of the source, and yet, this was where Y/n and Deuce would go to get away. They didn’t mind the fact the stone bricks was growing mold, or the fact the ground was always slippery and uneven which often caused Y/n to trip over and Deuce having to steady her. They didn’t mind the fact it was near impossible to see anything other than their eyes without a flashlight, nor did they mind the fact the walls kept sprouting vines that would attack Deuce (particularly since it was Y/n doing that as revenge for him laughing at her for tripping).
As long as they were together, they didn’t mind.
Y/n pulled her flashlight out of her bag and switched it on, Deuce doing the same. The two pointed their flashlights at their faces as Y/n leaned against the cold stone wall, a sigh escaping her lips as she ran her free hand through her hair.
“Is it bad that I found that oddly stressful?” Y/n asked, leaning her head back on the wall, lowering her hand from her head to summon a vine to hold her flashlight for her.
“No, I did too.” Deuce responded letting out a small laugh.
“Do you think Draculaura knows my blood would technically be… greener than red? Since you know I’m pretty much a plant.” Y/n pointed out raising a brow as she lifted her head to look at Deuce.
“Who knows, I was more focused on Heath ‘You would be SUCH a cute couple’, ‘You should ask her out dude.’” Deuce mimicked making Y/n laugh before groaning.
“I never wanna go to that class again.” She groaned slamming her head against the wall.
Deuce chuckled before speaking.
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, we can just skip Mr Komos’s class for the rest of the year, hang out in here.” He suggested.
“Nah, I don’t really feel like failing that class, my parents would kill me.” Y/n shrugged.
At this, Deuce merely smiled and spoke without thinking.
“Well, you could always come stay with me for the holidays, they can’t kill you then.”
Y/n once again moved her head off the wall to look at him, quirking a brow.
“Oh? Is that an invitation your extending Mr Gorgon?” She asked smirking.
“And so, what if it is Ms L/n?” He asked, smirking himself.
“I suppose I’d agree, although it depends.”
“On what?” Deuce asked raising a brow.
“On how much I like you at the end of the year.” She shrugged causing Deuce to playfully scoff and roll his eyes.
Y/n laughed at his behaviour for a moment before turning serious.
“Do- do you think our friends see something we don’t?” She asked looking at him.
“How do you mean?”
“I mean all of our friends think we’re a couple, they constantly ask us if we’re together and I kind of understand why.” Y/n mused.
“I don’t understand…”
“I- Deuce…” She sighed before speaking “Do- do you like me? Because and- I hate to admit this because you are my very best friend and I fear what may happen to our friendship if I do admit this but- I really, really like you Deuce Phorcys Gorgon- like a lot, so much so it hurts.”
Deuce paused, looking at the girl of whom’s cheeks- just like she’d said- had gained a greenish tint.
“Y/n… I do like you, more than you know- when you’re not around, I can barely breathe, I can’t stop thinking about you Y/n, you and you alone are the keeper of the key to my heart- Y/n my heart is yours. If you asked me to, I would die for you. Y/n I- I love you.” Deuce spoke.
Y/n gazed into his green eyes, her own eyes welling up with orange tears.
“Can- Can I kiss you?” He asked tentatively.
Y/n nodded, the flashlights flickering as the batteries grew low.
“Are you sure because I really want to-”
“Just kiss me you idiot.” She breathed stepping closer to him.
He dropped his flashlight and closed the gap between them, pulling her into a deep and passionate kiss as the flashlights died, leaving them in total darkness, their eyes closed as they kissed- only pulling away to breathe.
“Might be a good idea to… not tell our friends about this.” Y/n breathed, her arms wrapped around Deuces neck and her forehead leaned against his “They’ll be relentless.”
“Yeah, probably.” Deuce breathed, looking into the girl’s eyes.
#deuce gorgon#deuce gorgon x reader#live action deuce gorgon#deuce gorgon g3#live action deuce gorgon x reader#gorgon#g3 monster high#live action monster high#monster high g3
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