#like off the top of my head at least what six times I've put them through agony?

[soot-and-salt]

30

About "Don't Say Yes Until I've Finished Talking" (sorry if I messed up the title)

Hello! You totally nailed the title, don't worry!!

(Question from this list of fanfic author questions - come ask me more!)

30. Would you ever return to the story's universe and write more?

You know what? I have been considering it for that one! I'm weirdly fond of that little one shot and I don't often get to write something sweet between Alastor and Vox.

I think if I did, I'd want to use a song sung by Amir as the title, to match the title sung by Christian, and make it Alastor focused on something he wants but can't get from Vox. Maybe a companion fic about how he falls for him? Learns to deal with affection?

Hmmm. You have my mind thinking now. Let me turn this one over in my head a little bit more but I think there might be something here!

Thank you for asking me and for getting my brain turning! :D

[octuscle]

Fatal shortcut

You know those days. The traffic is murder. You can't go another inch. Your destination is within reach, but it will take you three green lights and at least 20 minutes to cover the last 100 meters. Bloody hell! Honk the horn? It's no use… But now carefully pull onto the green lane, then cut across the high school parking lot and you're there. Why do you have your baby, the Mercedes G-Class, after all? I put on the turn signal, the car takes the sidewalk like nothing, carefully into the parking lot, look left and right and…… BANG! Damn it, the Mustang has clearly taken my right of way. This is guaranteed to take longer than 20 minutes… The two morons in the car look like they only have their heads to wear football helmets and pour beer through their mouths. The typical stereotypical football college jock bros. The day just keeps getting better…

"Yo, Chuck! Bro, did you see what that punk did there?" "Sure, Brad! He definitely took your right of way." I try to protest. But I'm way too caught off guard when the guy, who is obviously Chuck, stands up in front of me. God knows I'm not small. I'm a well-trained, muscular six foot two. But Chuck is easily ten centimetres and at least 20 kilograms taller than me… He grabs my balls. Damn it, I want to punch him, but Brad's already got me from behind. And Brad is barely smaller than Chuck. "There you go, you little faggot!" Chuck hisses at me. "Are you lying in wait for your wankers in the parking lot again? But this time is the last time!" He spits in my face and his grip on my balls tightens. Brad turns my head in his direction and spits again. Then the two of them get into their car, put it in reverse. And disappear.

I stand there a bit like an idiot. I'm far from being small or a faggot. And the last thing Chuck and Brad were to me were wank templates. I mean, I have nothing against gays… But thanks no, not for me… I'll take a look at the damage to the car. It's no big deal, the Mustang looked worse. I get back in the car, drive the last few meters into the underground car park, throw my keys to Stephen at reception and ask him to take the car to the garage. When I get off work later, I'd like to have it done. He puts his hand to his temple and says "Sir, aye, sir". Hehehe, I don't mind hierarchies being recognized.

"You little faggot"… I can't get that phrase out of my head. Shit, I'm really unfocused today. Maybe I just need a distraction. I go to the gym during my lunch break. Somehow I feel the need to look like anything but a faggot. I train bare-chested. Dressed only in compression shorts. Not really appreciated here. But I don't care today…

Shit, I'm not in top form here either… What I normally lift without any problems is all too heavy for me today. At least it's the cross trainer… Even though I'm not really the cardio type. When I get in the shower, my cock gets hard. Shit, that's embarrassing. But I also have to say that there's really only premium meat running around here today. And I'm one of them. Definitely one of them. Even the clean-shaven guy in front sees it that way. Clear body language. It doesn't take long before I'm leaning against the shower wall. And for the first time in my life I get fucked… And how! I can hear the angels singing. It feels so good as the stallion cums in my ass. To say goodbye, he gives me a kiss and a pat on the ass. And he says loudly to one of his buddies. "What a waste for such a submissive pig to have such a magnificent cock!"

The fuck was great, but apart from that I'm really not myself today. I feel like I've been missing the last year. For the life of me, I can't remember a lot of things that happened. It's like I wasn't there. I'm glad when Stephen calls me at around 5 p.m. to tell me that my car is back. I thank him, pack up my things and go down to reception. Stephen grins at me almost insolently and says that this service is an exception and that he now has something good on me. Completely confused, I say, "I'm fine, dude" and take my car keys. But there is no black G-Class in my parking lot. There's a baby blue Mercedes SLK, in good shape, freshly polished. But it must be 15 years old. I press the key. The doors open. What the fuck?

I just want to get home, this day is a disaster. As I park the embarrassing car and walk past the concierge, Michael calls after me, "Hey, Johnny boy, can you give Mrs. Smith from 2316 a lift?" I turn red. I walk back to the concierge desk. "So what, my name is Jonathan, but it's actually Mr. Hays to you. And why would I stop on the 23rd floor when I live on the 38th. Besides, I don't know Mrs. Smith." Michael grins at me with his one-million-dollar smile. "Rough day, John, uh, Mr. Hays? You might as well ask the old lady if her drain is still acting up. And before you try to break into the wrong apartment, I understand you live in 2304." He hands me a package. I drive up to the 23rd floor. I give her the package. She asks if I can plug in the new coffee machine straight away. "Of course, mom," I say. I ask if her drain is working again. She says it would be nice if I could have another look. I ask if she has any rubber gloves. She nods. I pull the dirt out of the blocked drain. She slips me a dollar. I go to 2304, open the door. And drop onto the bed. It's right next to the door. 2304 used to be the room for the lady's maid from apartment 2312. On the one hand, I feel very much at home. But on the other hand, I should be somewhere else. Somewhere with a view of Central Park. With more space. I pull out my cell phone and start working my way through Grindr. Maybe I just need someone to take me really hard again today

That was a night of really wild dreams. Really wild dreams. But obviously everything is fine now. I feel fit. My morning wood has never been better. I stroke my chest. Didn't it used to be hairy? I'm fantasizing again. What it would be like to be a real guy. Successful, at least 1.82 m. Well, I'm not going to grow any more. But maybe that's because of some Italian roots or something. That's where I got my hairy armpits and good beard growth. Shit, I'm still hard as nails. So routine like every morning: wank, jog, shower and then off to the office. I should be there at 07:00 so that the mail is distributed and the conference tables are all set before the Masters of the Universe arrive at the office. It's 07:05 when I walk in the door. Stephen grins and just says, "Subway?" "Don't ask, bro!" I reply, rolling my eyes. I didn't really need a bachelor's degree for my job. Jogging in the morning to stay in shape is more important. At the end of the day, I usually have 15K steps and 40 floors on my fitness tracker. And that's not usually the end of it. By the time I get home, Michael usually has a number of assistance activities for me. But hey, the address on the Upper Eastside sounds impressive, which I would never normally have been able to afford as a young professional. I'll even put up with the apartment on the first floor with a view of the backyard and the job as a temporary janitor.

Of course it's embarrassing to still live with my parents. But if I wanted to afford my own place, I'd probably have to move 200 miles away from Down Town. And I want to stay here. That's important to me. Also for financial reasons. The subway tickets alone would be too expensive if I had to travel further. I mean, the little bit of scholarship… And I don't earn much in the kitchen of the cafeteria. Stephen and Michael are good friends. If I didn't have them, I wouldn't make it. But they have good contacts. Stephen in the office, Michael at home. They always know someone who needs a massage with a happy ending. Or a greedy college boy face for a blowjob. The men are usually well-groomed. Too well-groomed, actually. That's why I always look forward to my part-time job as a trainer at the high school gym. If I'm lucky, I get to meet Brad and Chuck. I mean, they're not gay or anything. We never make eye contact. But I still get to blow them sometimes. Even though, of course, it's pathetic when you're a sophomore in college sucking high school seniors. But fuck, you won't find cheesier dicks with a more pronounced scent of musk and sweat anywhere!

Yo, have I even dropped my name yet? It's Janusz, 19 years young and repping as an exchange student up in the Big Apple. Just call me Jonny, keep it chill. Hailing straight outta a tiny village near Krakow, Poland, in case that detail tickles your pickle. Still wrapping my head around this English gig… But let me tell ya, my French game is on point, or so the bros claim. Thrilled to be out of the parental crib and living it up in this wild city. Dang, the possibilities here are endless! Senior year vibes, you know what I'm saying? And now that I joined the wrestling squad, it's like BOOM! More close body action in a week than I got in a year with the 'rents around! Truth bomb: I make most of my cash tagging along with my wingmen Brad and Chuck, the school heartthrobs. I'm like their trusty sidekick. It's lit! Hoping to snag an athletic scholarship next year, fingers crossed. Sure, these two golden boys ain't wrestlers (legends in the bedroom, though), but football studs. It'd be epic if we could keep the bromance alive in college. Purely platonic, of course. Or not… 🤷‍♂️

[matchesarelit]

Imagine If You Will... (Silly, Spencer Agnew x gn!Reader)

REQUEST: I really enjoyed your fic from earlier this month so I'd like to ask for a Spencer Agnew x reader!! Mainly where the office is oblivious to his and the reader's newly established relationship and they start flirting more often, wearing each other's clothes/jewelry, going home together and people start realizing 1 by 1 until the news spreads that they're dating. (including their reactions lol) Thanks :))))

W.C: ~2.4k Warnings: none I think, Reader and Spencer are gd hopeless, the word gigachad, badly crafted memes?

Smosh Masterlist

Waking up on Spencer's couch with a controller in hand and your head draped back over his shoulder was becoming a hobby of yours and the almost immediate creak of your neck was a now familiar ache. Usually, the pair of you had the foresight to set an alarm, or twenty. Today however, you woke to catch the long hand solidly past the six and the other making its way towards nine. That left the pair of you with less than half an hour to get ready and get to work about ten minutes away.

Twisting hurriedly you pat Spencer's chest a few times, the controller long lost to the couch cushions in your haste, 'Hun, wake up, we need to go.'

Rubbing the back of a knuckle over his eye he slowly turned to face you, his voice soft yet rough from sleep and still slightly out of it,

'Huh? What time is it?'

'About twenty-five to nine' His hand hand shifted to rest against his chest, meeting and holding your own as a small smile fell over his features, clearly still a little too out of it to read the situation as it was. Your expression probably wasn't helping, the initial stress had disappeared the moment his lips pulled into that pretty expression, and you had never had the strength to not smile right back at him.

Admittedly it had taken five additional minutes for the pair of you to remember the issue at hand and spring from the sofa, at which point the pair of you had grabbed whatever you could, changed and scrambled to the car. Pulling into the office carpark, you thanked yourself for setting the top you'd brought over out on top of the dresser.

A self to self mental high five that was not at all warranted, a fact that you would only realized as you stepped into the bathroom at work when you went for a tea break later that morning.

Catching sight of yourself, your cheeks immediately grew hot; across your chest, in a vintage font, was the phrase, 'She Bul on my ba until I saur' alongside a gigachad version of the Pokemon underneath. You'd bought the shirt for Spencer a few weeks prior upon stumbling across it on Instagram and thinking it was perfect for the nerdy man that he was.

Finishing up in the bathroom, you beelined for the Games area, scurrying (in the most nondescript way possible, of course) over to Spencer's desk, you immediately began tapping his shoulder until he tugged his headphones from his ears.

'Is everything alright?' Jaw hanging motionless you gestured wildly to the top, your wild eyes begging him to catch on to your not so subtle concern.

'Ha! nice shirt-o-OH WAIT' Eyes blowing wide and brows drawing together you remained silent lost on how to proceed. Although you had yet to discuss keeping your relationship a secret, you hadn't discussed announcing it either, and it had caught the pair of you quite off guard.

'I-I've only worn it once on stream? if that helps? I doubt anyone will realize' at his words you nodded, giving a cursory glance about, you were glad to note that the other two people in the space had headphones on, presumably drowning out the world around them.

It wasn't that you wanted to hide your relationship, and the shirt certainly wasn't the worst way to launch your coupling, that being said it wasn't the best either. I mean c'mon at least something classy like a gigachad Mr. Mime right? A Bulbasaur was just a little silly.

Meeting his eyes with a small grin tugging at your cheeks, you put your hand over his and squeezed lightly, before stepping away, brushing your hands down over the fabric and turning to return to your own desk.

There was only one conclusion to draw and it was one that the pair of you agreed upon that night as he dropped you off at your apartment; there really wasn't any point in putting much effort into hiding your relationship, after all you already knew you were horrible at it.

That much had been revealed weeks into seeing each other, when a stray brightly patterned hair clip wound up tangled in Spencer's hair, the matching one sitting neatly by your temple, a fact you doubted Kiana would ever let the pair of you forget. Especially as that same hair clip had remained on his desk since she had twisted it free it months prior, and she still often feigned looking for the matching one in your hair.

Pulling into the carpark outside of Spencer's apartment, you barely held back your laughter as you leant over and pushed open the car door for him from inside. Watching as he cautiously all but tip-toed closer, arms piled high with a clutter of hard drives and cables in a tangled mess, you raised an eyebrow at the chaos of it all.

Settling himself down with a relieved sigh, he let the balled up hardware sit on his lap resting a hand on top so to keep it in place.

Leaning over once again you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before twisting to grab a bag from the back seat. 'Did you want a bag for that Tangela'd mess?' Unable to dissolve the much-too-happy-with-yourself look on your face you watched in glee as he took in the pun.

'oh god' His exasperated mutter was plainly for show as he shook his smiling head in disbelief, before thanking you as he took the canvas from your hands and began haphazardly shoving the mass inside.

Much too caught up in discussing the date planned for later that week all throughout the drive and as you walked into work, both of you failed to notice the print on the side of the bag that was soon emptied out and folded on his desk awaiting that evening when he'd give it back.

Marcus, however, in light of the copier breaking down, had been asked to trek to the local Staples and make some copies and soon spotted the folded tote on his way to the door.

'Hey Spencer, would I be able to borrow that bag for a copy run?' Peering around his monitor, Spencer looked from Marcus to the bag and back again before finding his voice, 'Oh um, this is-'

Stepping into the room and catching on quite fast you spoke up, unintentionally, and yet mercifully, cutting Spencer off, 'That one's mine, of course you can borrow it!'

Standing just outside of the kitchen with your umpteenth mug of whatever sachet you had picked up, possibly a soup, you watched Spencer chuck the bag over and watched as the other man caught it and left the building with it tucked under his arm.

Looking all around her desk, you and Erin were searching for her bag, a tote not unlike your own, that had been lost in the chaos of the day, but with her phone on the verge of dying the pair of you had sprung into action. Venturing further and further from her desk as time went on, you found yourself by the assortment of boxes in the corner while Erin searched near the door. Just as she opened her mouth to call the search a failure, Marcus stepped back into the office, bag slung over his shoulder.

'Hey is there any chance that bag is my one?' She was clearly hopeful but that was a fleeting moment as she cut off his response,

'No its uh-'

'oh don't worry. This is definitely yours, isn't it?' The question was yelled across the space at you, a point you only noticed when you looked back at the cacophony to find her eyes already looking in your direction. Walking over you were lost as to how a nondescript tote-

Nevermind.

Illuminated momentarily by Erin's camera flash, across the side of the bag was a graphic, edited by you, for you. Across a captioned screenshot of parks and rec, you'd put the words, in a horrendous green, 'This is my boyfriend, and my boyfriend's Mtn Dew KickStart' alongside a included picture of the can. It was messy, and hyper-specific and yet it had given you such a good chuckle, you'd elected to pay for it to be printed. A fact you'd completely forgotten when blindly grabbing a bag that morning.

'I-' Your attempts at any explanation, no matter how unnecessary, fell short as you struggled for words. Marcus was in the same boat, now holding the bag up in front of him, eyebrows furrowed and mouth opening and closing repeatedly as he studied the print. Erin however, seemed to have no such problem, tapping a few buttons, locking her phone and spinning on her heel presumably to keep looking for her own bag.

Silly as ever, you thought those few buttons were unrelated, until Spencer make a squawk-like noise from the passenger seat of your car on the drive home. When you pulled over, he accompanied the sound with showing you a story from the main Smosh account, it was of the bag with the text 'Found in the wild. Your soulmate @/spenser?'

Grabbing the balled up bag in the cup holder you handed it to him, at which point you returned to the open road, not missing the little, 'So true' that came from the man next to you.

You'd just switched on the kettle when Tommy stepped into the office kitchen, grabbing a mug of his own and perching beside you against the island.

'Hey so my car is in the shop, would I be able to grab a lift home tonight?'

You and Tommy had spoken many times in the past regarding your shared suburb, so it wasn't at all a surprise when he asked, and yet you were still stuttering to answer.

'oh uh-'

''its no problem if you can't-'

'Oh no I- We can, I carpooled with Spencer, but I'm sure he wont mind...'

'Are you sure?'

'Of course! I'll just let him know, don't even stress'

Living in the same neighborhood, you and Tommy had given each other lifts and carpooled in the past, but that was before you started spending so much free time with Spencer, something that started almost a full year before you'd actually gotten together. This Included, almost without discussion, your carpooling, despite living in two different areas in opposite directions from the office.

That last aspect, the part that made the whole carpooling situation between the pair of you impractical, was the part that completely slipped both yours and, when you confirmed the change of plans with him, Spencer's minds.

It wasn't until a few minutes after you had slipped inside Spencer's car, Tommy had nestled himself into the backseat, and Spencer had started off in the direction of your area, that any of you had shared a word. The regular flirting that flowed freely over the car ride home, after being bottled up at work, was absent and left the space eerily silent. Until Tommy's head cocked to the side and he addressed Spencer.

'I had no idea you were in our area Spencer, when did you move?'

Spencer was silent for perhaps a beat too long, 'oh I uh-'

'Cause weren't you up north?'

'I... uh... still am' His voice was almost silent towards the end, achieving his goal of leaving Tommy momentarily clueless.

'What?'

Patting a hand on Spencer's shoulder you wordlessly insisted he go on,

'I still do, live up north that is.'

'Then wh- OHHH' In the quiet car his realization was like a siren, thankfully however, it fell away quickly, being immediately replaced with an amused chuckle. His laughter meant Tommy struggled to get out his playful criticism,

''S-so you d-drive like the compl-ete wr-wrong direction t-to t-t-o drop off... oh my god that's s-so silly and so cute b-but so dumb.'

'Not always... sometimes Spencer'll stay at mine or I'll-.' Your defense wasn't nearly as good as you'd thought it was in the moment and was cut off with more laughter and a sarcastic yet good natured, 'y-yeah that makes it make sense,' from the man behind you and a smile from the man by your side.

It might be silly but at this point that was a founding pillar of your relationship, and one you'd long since stopped denying, but that didn't stop you from trying, and failing, to defend yourselves on occasion.

Pulling a headband from your desk drawer, you pushed your hair out of your face and out of the way. It was a common enough occurrence, as was accidentally taking them home and losing them to the abyss, that you had quite a large number squirreled away. In the light of previous occurrences you had moved away from hair clips, cough Kiana cough, to their much less find-their-way-into-your-boyfriends-hair friends, the headband.

That being said, less than an hour later, standing, once again, by the kettle you watched as Spencer brushed hair from his eyes and tucked it behind his ears only for it to fall back in place almost immediately. The struggle was one you knew well, but the pout that his lips pulled into as it happened for the twenty-something-th time, was not something you could abide.

So settling down your mug of freshly made who-knows-what at your desk, you retrieved a headband, one not at all dissimilar to the one currently holding your own locks in place. Walking over to Spencer you tapped the table to get his attention, doubting his ability to see you through the hair he had seemingly relented to.

'Hey...'

'Hey... Come here.' Moving to stand by his side, you spun his chair from under his desk around to face you, running your hands through his hair, pushing it up. Softly pushing his head to hang back, you placed the headband across his forehead, before moving it up to secure his hair in place underneath it. Letting your fingers linger, you considered the moment. It wasn't Mr. Mime classy, but it was definitely a little bit silly and that seemed perfect.

Trailing a hand up past the band and over the back of his head, you rested it on the back of his chair, a movement he met with his cheek nestling against your forearm. Meeting his eyes, you held his gaze as his head tilted down and then back up. A single nod was all you needed as you leant down and pressed your lips to his.

It was nowhere near the first time, but it was the first time that it was accompanied by a call from down the hall, where Ian stood pumping his fist in the air.

'CALLED IT!'

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 11 (Part 2 of 3)

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; EMDR (VIVID intro to revisiting traumatic situations); crying + feelings of sadness; heart issues (POTs); use of heart monitors; dangerously high heart rate; implied abusive situations; derogatory verbiage from past abuser; implied drug use; very unsanitary living conditions; visits to safe place; usage of containment strategy * * * revisited, vivid memories of sexual encounters; body changes as a result of pregnancy; talks of baby + pregnancy; pregnancy hormones (+ continuing to act on them ;)); reader and jake continue to be STUBBORN; cheating; heavy petting; forgetfulness (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter 11 (Part 2) Word Count: 23.9k+

a/n: i broke my promise, i know. :( i feel absolutely fucking terrible that i made you all wait, but life happens. :'( i wish this story was my main priority/job, but alas...that dream is not a reality. i need you all to know: when i say i'm going to do something, i fully intend on it, but...life (and crippling adhd + anxiety).

i am so incredibly sorry, my lovely readers. :(

also, life update to blame (only if you care to read). BUT, on top of trying to get my house completely cleaned/shit thrown away, i officially had to empty out my classroom (see also: due to toxic work enviro, i had to leave the career i've wanted to live out since i was six y/o). so, i'm currently in the process of completely shifting careers (going from one emotionally taxing career to another, but that is apparently the type of job my heart desires lol).

as always, big thank you to @joshym for being the best sister there ever was and supporting me in my writings + pursuits <3 i love you to the ends of the earth, lis. you're my person. <3

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤 (fr, i listen to it nonstop when i write this.... all of the songs are pertinent to the story and aid in telling it - either already or eventually.)

Covet Masterlist

-🌼🌼🌼-

"I covet truth; beauty is unripe childhood's cheat; I leave it behind with the games of youth."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

-🌼🌼🌼-

Monday

December 12, 2022

“So, any news on the baby since I last saw you?” Gia started, a sure smile on her face that helped ease you. “You had your second appointment on Thursday, right?”

“No,” you shook your head. “Dr. Rose wanted to just wait until closer to Week 18 so we could find out the gender at one session rather than having to wait between week 16 and week 18. Knock everything out at once,” you explained, clearing your throat. Looking around the office, you admired the pieces of floral art littering the walls, as you always did. “We’re going this Friday now.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Gia asked, raising a brow. She was rolling to her desk, getting the (seemingly) last thing she needed for your session today and placing it in her lap. “Not stressed about putting it off?”

“No, actually. I’m not stressed at all,” you acknowledged, sticking your lip out in thought. You hadn’t even thought to be stressed yet. Progress? Sure seemed like it. “It’s strange; the longer time passes, the bigger I get. . . The worries just aren’t as prevalent. It’s like I can feel that the baby is okay.”

“Not strange at all, babe,” Gia reassured with a shake of her head. Her platinum blonde hair was wavy today, framing her angular face perfectly. “Completely normal for new mothers to sort of get used to the pregnancy enough to feel at peace, per se. And I am so proud of you for getting to that point.”

“Well thanks,” you grinned crookedly, trying your best to settle into the worn, camel-colored leather of her sofa. “Can’t say the same for today’s session though. . . I am nervous about it.”

Gia waved it away, showing you a look of ease on her stark features. “No need. You’re the one in control, girly,” she winked, placing both white-sneakered feet on the ground. 

She reached in her desk drawer for the little pouch, the familiar one that you knew held the device you’d be using today. A sudden wave of nerves began to crash over you as she unzipped it, revealing it and the paddles that would be the catalyst in placing your brain. . .elsewhere— somewhere. 

Somewhere bad? Good? In-between?

“Here’s the plan,” she started, wheeling her chair closer to the couch, where you were trying your damnedest to sit comfortably. “We’ll start with your safe place to give you some sense of peace and stability — gotta make sure it’s still fresh and open in your mind.” 

You watched as she turned the knob of the device, the little green light beginning to blink to notate that it’s on. “Then,” she continued, situating the device to look it over before her green eyes settled back on you. “Once you feel comfortable, I’ll tell you to begin walking away. Whatever direction you’d like to go, it’s completely up to you.” 

Gia held the paddles out in front of you, and with clammy, shaky palms, you tentatively took hold of them. One in each hand, just like last time.

You couldn’t stop worrying about where you’d end up, where you’d walk away to. Walking away from your beautiful field, from Jake. . . What if you couldn’t do it? 

“Will I. . .,” you cleared your throat, nervous. “If where I go is too hard, do I just—,” you panicked, unable to properly finish your sentence due to an onslaught of nerves. “What will I do?”

You were fumbling with your words and clarity, before she interjected, knowing just where your mind was going. “I’ll simply tell you to walk back to your safe place. I’ll be talking you through it, I’ll be right here the whole time — just gotta keep your ears open for me,” she winked, clicking open her iPad and testing her Apple pencil on the screen, readying to take notes. 

“And, if at any point I see your body language change to indicate any distress, I’ll guide you back to your safe place, okay?” She soothingly told you the words, her full pink lips widening to a sweet smile, clicking her pencil into its spot at the top of her iPad case. “Remember, my specialized area is EMDR. I’ve done it multiple times before this – successfully. I plan to complete this successfully with you, too, y/n.”

When you gave her a small, timid smile, she took that as an indicator to continue on with her little speech. The tiny faux grin on your otherwise concerned face was the most emotion you could muster in that moment. 

“It will hurt from time to time. I can’t take that away. It will be harder than most other things you’ve ever had to do.” She paused, her own brows curving to show care for your rigid state. Gia reached forward to unwrap your hands from the paddles gently. Once she had a hold on your hands, she rubbed the backs of them reassuringly, her thumbs so soft with their intricate patterns. You looked down to study the patterns, working to focus on something else and rid yourself of the nerves. 

“Y/n.” She stated your name, making you look up at her. Her seafoam-colored eyes grabbed yours. “Before we begin. . . I want to make sure – once more – that you are sure about this . . . that you want to continue. We’ve talked about it a lot, but I want you to be sure. There are other routes of therapy. . .”

“No,” you replied, completely sure of your decision. “No. I want to do this. I promise I haven’t changed my mind. I don’t want to change my mind,” you rushed out, desperate for her to understand you. “I’m just–just scared. Is that not okay?”

You didn’t mean to sound defensive, but your biting tone contradicted that. The nerves were wracking you, from the inside out. 

Luckily, Gia seemed unphased, keeping with her featherlight touch to the backs of your hands. “It absolutely is okay to be scared,” she confirmed, tone firm and soft all at once. “But, I need you to keep in mind: you are in charge this time. You have the power. We will approach these places in the now – you are in the driver’s seat of conquering these past battles. We’re in this together, love – and we will make it out stronger and better than before we started.”

Her voice assured you, of course. But the fear was still ever-present. 

Sure, you did have control. But what if you couldn’t control where you went? 

Where would you go? That was what scared you most. Your mind was bound to let loose. It was one telling part of this sort of therapy. You didn’t really know what had been hiding deep in the drawers of the credenza in your mind. . .  

Hence you being here.

You just knew, whatever it was lying beneath the surface — you knew it was. . . a lot. 

Then, as if she could hear the additional fearful thoughts swimming in your brain, she grasped your hands tighter in hers, moving to rub her thumbs over the tops of your knuckles. “You’ll be just fine. We’ve got a solid plan, babe. I just need you to trust me, and I need you to trust yourself. If you need to walk away, tell me and we’ll do it. That is in our power – your power.” Her pristinely white, pearly teeth were on display as she looked deep into your worried eyes. “We can do this, okay?”

We. I’m not alone. 

You’d never had a single doubt about Gia. Of course you trusted her. But. . .maybe the true problem was trusting yourself. . . Over the past several months, you were finding that to be a bit more difficult. 

But, Gia was right. You had to put some trust in yourself to know when you needed to step away. You could do it. You had to.

And knowing that she had a plan and had done it so many times before. . . Those were relieving thoughts, to say the very least. She knew what she was doing, and she knew what was best for you. 

I can do this, you recited to yourself. I can. . .

You sighed, out of both relief and persistent worry. “I trust you,” you told her, another somewhat forced smile following your words. “And I’ll learn to trust myself. . . I’ll try my best,” you grinned sheepishly. “We’ve got this.”

“Good deal,” she responded with a far more sincere smile than you could offer. “There’s just one more thing we need to do before we get started.” 

She clicked her iPad closed, wheeling back toward her desk, reaching down in the same drawer she pulled the device from. Only this time, she pulled out a large legal style, white notepad, and a large box of Crayola markers. Lastly, she grabbed a flawlessly sharpened pencil from the ceramic baby blue jar, covered in white roses, next to her keyboard. 

What could she be up to? You wondered, eyebrows drawn together. 

“I need you to describe something for me, something visual to lock any horrible memory away in.” She took a sip of her tea, which sat atop her desk, before she stood up from her chair. She came to sit directly next to you on her couch. The smell of eucalyptus that swirled off of her, from her perfume, was soothing. “You need to give it lots of detail, make it unique. I’ll even draw it for you,” she held up the notepad, pointing to it with a gentle smile. “Seeing it visually will help you when it’s time to lock the memories away mentally. Some people want a box, a filing cabinet, a treasure chest,” she laughed, and you giggled at that one, too. Jake would love that one. Buried treasure, like his pirate documentaries. . . “Whatever you want. You just tell me exactly what you want it to look like.” 

Something about this felt a little silly, but you understood the purpose for it. Just having a place to put the memories after you visited them, it felt like closure. A special sort of closure at the end of every session, just like your safe place felt like closure. . .

And then, you knew what you wanted it to look like. Saw the image, clear as day, in your mind. It felt significant to you, it felt right. There was no question. 

But, you had a thought.

“Would–would it be okay if I drew it?” You questioned carefully. 

She eagerly handed you the notepad, markers and pen with a huge smile. “Absolutely. That’s called trusting yourself big time, girly. This box is a special one!” Her voice was wet as she sniffled. “I’m not supposed to get so emotional with my clients, but I’m proud of you. You’re making great strides and we’ve barely started.”

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a bit encouraged, your own throat tight as you reviewed her once more with a glance. 

Then, sticking the tip of your tongue out from the corner of your mouth, you looked down at the paper, and began. 

A small, wooden box was all you could see in your mind. So, you drew it out, as best you could, given your lack of artistic abilities.

One side, then the other, the bottom, the top. . .

Before you knew it, you had a perfect, rectangular box on the stripped notebook paper. Then, it was time for the important part: the details. 

There was only one element that felt right — felt safe — to decorate the box with. 

Scouring through the markers, you found two perfect shades of purple at the bottom — two very different shades, to add depth. You weren’t an artist, really, but you could pretend for the box’s sake. 

Then, you searched for the greenest green you could find. One more marker in a shade of dark brown, and you were ready to draw the box exactly as you saw it in your mind. 

You began drawing tiny individual stalks of lavender on top of the box. You filled in their blooms with the purples, drawing their stems underneath with the green. Their placement may have seemed scattered across the top, but you kept going. To you, it made sense. And that was all that mattered. 

One bloom in the top left corner, one diagonal from it in the bottom right corner. Then, there was one on the bottom left going straight up and down, with a slight curve to the stem. . . And one more, laying on its side directly in the middle. . .

It was perfect. Just as you’d imagined.

You filled in the blank spaces with the brown marker, immulating the antiqued, stained mahogany wood you were envisioning. 

And once you filled it all in, your vision had come to life right before your own eyes. It was the ideal picture of what you saw, and despite the fact that you were no artist, it was beautiful. You loved it. Looking at it forced emotions you weren’t expecting, so many big emotions that begged to be surfaced. 

And for whatever reason, looking at it made you think of the baby. This beautiful, hand drawn box held a strange connection to the life you and Jake had created, though you couldn’t explain how. . . 

But, you felt it. You felt it so strongly. 

“Lavender means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” Gia asked you, smiling and wiping away a stray tear that sat on top of her highlighted cheekbone. “It’s very lovely, y/n. And I’m so glad that you drew it.”

You contemplated her question about lavender. You’d never considered just how prevalent it was in all of your happy places. . . But, it was. It meant so much. . . 

Who knew that such a simple plant could bring you so much comfort? So much peace? 

A tear came to your eye at the thought of how special the plant had become to you. . . It was really no secret why it’d become special. 

Gia leaned over, giving you a small side hug, but didn’t linger before making her way back to her chair. She sat at the edge of it, elbows placed on both knees as she clasped her hands at the front. 

“How are we feeling?” She asked, sniffling once more as she looked you directly in the eyes. “A little better now that we have our box?”

“Yes,” you nodded, wiping under your eye to rid yourself of any tears. “The box idea is genius.”

“The technical term is containment. Again, it’s simply where the client creates a space to store the distressing memories. I want to emphasize that the memories aren’t coming back to control you, rather you’re the one controlling them. And, the box’s containment of the unpleasant memories gives you a little extra control over these memories and the emotions attached to them. They’re yours to deal with,” she explained softly. “You done with the notebook and pens?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nodded eagerly, handing the materials back to her. You went over her words in your head, extra control. . . the idea of that sounded wonderful to you. Those words aided in lifting a decent amount of weight from your nervous body. 

She took the materials from you, and as she did so, you decided to take the paddles in your hands once more, feeling much more confident. 

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, rolling back in her tufted chair to put the markers and pencils back on the desk. “I definitely can’t take credit for the idea of containing those horrendous memories in a certain area. . . but it has proven wonderfully effective for every client I’ve practiced this form of therapy with,” she explained further, coming back to sit in front of you, wheeling smoothly back towards you. When she was about two feet away from you, she stopped and observed the picture of your box, the notepad still in her lap. “Do you have a clear idea of the box in your mind?”

“The clearest,” you affirmed, no question in your mind of the precise placement of each piece of lavender. The exact color of mahogany that you’d depicted for the wood, sealed in your brain. 

“Wonderful. Well, I’m going to hold it so I can get a good idea of it; just in case you need help finding it at any point,” she said, eyes scanning the page as she spoke. “I’d love to see this in real life – it’s gorgeous.”

“I think so, too,” you grinned, eyes twinkling. And, suddenly, your body felt light in a way that could only indicate one thing. . . you knew there was no time like the present. “I’m ready.” 

Gia looked up at your words, her own eyes donning a spark as she tucked the notepad onto her lap. “If you’re ready, I’m ready,” she smiled kindly, her eyes trustworthy and open for opportunity. “First things first. Make yourself as comfortable as you need to. Sit, lay down. . . it’s up to you.”

You kept yourself upright on the couch, allowing yourself to sink back into its cushions a bit more. And for some reason, the thought of crossing your legs, criss-cross applesauce came to mind. So, you did just that, bringing your legs up to the couch and criss-crossing one over the other. You looked at your belly as you did. A timid grin crept along your lips at the thought of knowing you didn't have much longer until you’d no longer be able to do this. 

Thank you, sweet baby.

With one deep breath in, you felt your stiff limbs loosen with the comfort of the new position you found yourself in. And with the exhale, you looked down at the paddles in your hands, holding them probably a bit too tight as you felt your nails digging into your clammy palms. Still yet, you kept your grip, somehow feeling a bit more secure that way. 

“Nice and comfy?” Gia asked, her warm, knowing smile aiding in relaxing your body even more. 

You looked down at your hands, smoothing your thumbs over the cool plastic of the paddles. You knew this was it, that this could begin to change a lot; it could change everything. The thought of change was a frightening one, but with this change would come a healing journey like you’d never known. For you, for the baby, for  Jake, even. . .

“As I’ll ever be,” you confidently answered. You were ready to embark on this expedition of mending. 

“Perfect,” she said, her voice soft, reassuring. “Close your eyes, take a few deep breaths. Let yourself relax.”

You did as she said, and with one breath in through your nose and blowing it slowly out of your mouth, you closed your eyes. 

You felt your chest rise and fall with each breath. You began to breathe deeper and easier the longer your eyes were closed. 

“Good job.” You heard her sweet voice, feeling comforted by the simple fact that you knew she was still with you. Though you could no longer see her, you felt her. And that was more than enough. “I’ll start the paddles off slowly, just like last time. Turning them on in 3, 2. . .” 

Your body instinctively jolted at the light humming sensation you felt against your palms, your eyes closing a little tighter. But, you quickly remembered the feeling from last time and it didn’t take you very long to get used to it. You even found a little relief in the alternating vibrations. Their consistent rhythm worked to ease your mind. Your eyes, though still closed, instinctively followed in the back and forth motion of the pulsations in your palms. 

“Does this speed feel okay?” You heard her ask, her voice suddenly becoming more distant as you let yourself focus on the steady thrumming of the paddles. 

“Yes,” you whispered, the sound of your voice echoing as though you were in a long, narrow tunnel. “Feels good.” 

“We’ll start with establishing your safe place, y/n. Go ahead and start walking to it. Lead the way.” 

My safe place. 

Suddenly, as though the mere mention of it had  some sort of ability to transcend you there, you began feeling the familiar cool breeze against your face. Faint sounds of the birds singing in the forest of trees filled your ears, becoming a bit louder as you found your footing against the lightly dampened grass beneath your feet. “The birds,” you felt yourself say. “They’re singing, their chirps are becoming clearer now.” 

“Wonderful.” Her voice was heard all around you, echoing against the wind. “Tell me what you see.” 

Your eyes, still physically shut, began to open in your mind. They squinted at the bright, warm rays from the sun. And as you turned your face upwards toward the sky, you could feel the radiance of the rays against your skin. 

And, as you peered a few feet ahead of you, you witnessed a beautiful family of deer were perusing the lush meadow. 

“The sun. . . It’s so beautiful and bright, but it doesn’t hurt to look at it,” you shared with her, squinting towards it with no negative effect, shocked by the fact. “And the deer. So innocent and pure. They’re so near to me, but not scared of me at all.”

“You’re doing amazing, y/n. Keep going, tell me what you can touch, what you can smell.” Her voice carried throughout the trees like the wind, meshing beautifully with the songs of the birds. 

Bending down, you ran your fingers through the dewy blades of grass. They felt cool, soft. Like a blanket of emerald velvet. “The grass. It’s soft, a little wet.”

And then, the smells. The fragrance of freshly rain coated grass, as though an evening shower had just finished nourishing the ground before you’d arrived. The rainfall, sustaining the life of the pasture, the jude green grasses, the illustrious amethyst plant surrounding you. . . 

The divine aroma from your favored flower overwhelmed your senses in the most alluring way. The bloomed field, surrounding you, holding you carefully in its gentle grasp. 

“The lavender,” you felt yourself say, eagerly. “I can smell it, so fresh and clean; the sense of calm it brings me. . .” 

You then felt the paddles pick up in their speed, ever so slightly, but enough that you could tell.

“Oh yes, your lavender,” Gia hushed as she positively tracked with you. 

My lavender. 

Gently, you sat your body down in the midst of the flowers. And once you did, you felt the urge to place your hands against your tummy, to feel the baby, just like last time. 

There you are, right where you belong, you thought when you felt the smooth bump beneath your hands. 

You felt nearly complete, nearly, but you knew something was still missing—someone. 

And just when you started to look beyond the stems of lavender to find him, there he was. 

Clad in the very same navy blue, three piece suit you’d seen him in the first time. The rays from the sun bounced off of his chestnut locks, his tanned skin radiant and glowing. 

With a soft, lopsided smile, he slowly walked toward you. The vision of him, walking amongst the stalks of lavender as they gently swayed from the light breeze against his calves. . . You felt yourself sigh with relief. 

This was safe. This was home. 

Once he approached you in what felt like no time at all, he laid down right beside you, extending one arm out for you to join him. And as you did, letting yourself at last melt into his warm embrace, you were finally there. 

Your safest place.

“I’m here now,” you muttered, feeling yourself smile warmly as you did. “And I’m safe.” 

“Enjoy it for a moment, let it sink in, put yourself at ease.” You heard Gia’s voice, but the more you focused on Jake, the more distant she became. 

You found yourself gazing into his eyes, sparkling like golden gems, as he cradled you in the crook of his arm. 

In his amber-brown eyes, you saw your haven, your sanctuary of serenity. 

A gentle smile graced his lips as he reached up, tenderly brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear. “It’s time to step away now, y/n,” he told you. Though, you knew it was truthfully Gia telling you, you heard Jake’s voice. You watched his lips move as he spoke, “You can do this. I’m right here.” 

Again, you knew the words were coming from Gia. But, hearing them in his voice, as much as you didn’t want to leave him, it was the final push you needed. 

It was time. 

With only a bit of resistance, you sat up, slowly standing to your feet and urged yourself forward towards the unknown. When you looked back, you saw Jake standing gracefully amongst the fragrant blooms of your lavender. 

Home, you thought. He looks like home. 

With one final sigh, and with the most strength you were sure you’d ever mustered, you walked away from him. 

Your hands found your belly for some extra courage as you stepped away, everything turning black for a moment once you got far enough. But, the further you went, a tiny, dim light caught your attention. It initially seemed like miles away, but with every step you took, it became worlds closer. 

A lamp. You could finally see it. It was old, dusty. It was sitting atop a table, from what you could tell. . . 

With one more step, the full picture started to come to you. You’d guessed right — it sat on top of a round, wooden table that only had one leg in the center, making it lean a little to the left. The white, canvas lampshade was stained so badly. . . 

The stains were reminiscent of those that come from years of smoking cigarettes near it. 

In fact, you were shocked that you could tell it had ever been white. 

As the image became more clear, you saw a black ash tray next to the lamp, full of cigarette butts, all but confirming your cigarette theory. You could smell the smoke, too, as though someone had just finished one off. The stench was putrid, the chemically treated tobacco mixed disgustingly with the other trash laying on the table. 

To the right, you saw a sofa. The blue cloth over the cushions, stained just like the lamp, was tattered and worn. It was full of holes. Tiny, black holes. Cigarette burns?

God, the smell was nearly becoming too much. It was so strong, potent. Cigarettes and filth. Utter filth. Filth that you suddenly began to remember being suffocated by as a child.  

No wonder you liked things so pristinely clean. . .

The shag carpet beneath your feet felt like it had never been vacuumed after years of wear. It was littered with half empty beer cans, more cigarette butts, rat droppings. . .

God — the fucking smell. A triggering smell—one that had your stomach turning to the point that vomit rose in your throat. 

The paddles sped up a bit more, much more noticeably this time as they forced your brain to grasp what you were experiencing. 

“Tell me what you see, y/n. Tell me where you are.” It was no longer Jake’s voice that you were hearing, it was once again Gia’s. And though you missed the sound of his, you were so happy to hear her, reminding you that she was still there. 

This was the past. Gia was the present. You were with Gia.

You stepped to the side, glancing around the room you were standing in, trying with all of your might to not allow the stench to make you sick. 

“It’s—I’m in a living room, I think. . .?” You noticed a television set, one from the late nineties with a built-in VCR, sitting on top of a makeshift table made of three small slabs of particle board. 

The more you looked around, you noticed there was only one average-sized window in the whole room, next to the white front door. The door was scuffed to hell and looked ready to give at any second. The blinds attached to the window were ripped to shreds, hardly hanging onto the frame. 

“Y-yeah, it’s a living room. It’s. . .It was our living room. One of them, at least. I’m fully beginning to. . . To recognize it. . .”

You’d lived in so many homes as a child, seen many living rooms. But this one, this home and the walls surrounding you. . .this one was different. While most homes from your childhood didn’t leave you with happy memories, this one felt—evil. This had been a personal hell.

Anxiety, heavy sadness. . . this room was wrought with it.

And as you heard a certain laugh, deep and throaty, from the next room over, your stomach churned and your mind went fuzzy. That sound. It was vile and thick with too many years of smoking. That particular laugh was associated with ugliness and gut-wrenching fear. 

The man that the laugh was attached to. . . This was his house. You remembered that now. There was no safety here. This place was only associated with feeling powerless, forgotten, and lonely. 

The paddles wiggled in your hands, the vibrations reaching your worn nerves.

Elsie was here, though. Somewhere. You knew that. 

And Elsie had helped in making it less lonely — just knowing she was in this past-tense moment filled you with ease. Your sister was here. 

Though, you knew for past Elsie, she was still trapped. Even though she comforted this adult version of you that was invading. . . there was still no escape for little girl Elsie. 

This place had been desolate, with no chance for escape. You’d been tied here by invisible rope.

Fuck. Where was your sister? You could feel her near, but she wasn’t in the living room with you. Your skin prickled at what she could be experiencing. . . You couldn’t fully wrap your brain around it. 

But this was the past. Right now, you just needed to focus on your surroundings.

Living room. The living room. 

Your mind was quickly skirting back to your present placement. And, rather than standing, you suddenly realized you were sitting on the ground. Strangely, your hands in the memory were free of the paddles, tucked safely in your lap, shaking. . . And not daring to touch the dirty, shaggy carpet. 

For a split second, you wondered. . . Why were you not sitting on the couch or a chair? And why were you sitting in a place you felt you couldn’t move from? Was this how you’d been placed originally? In the past? 

You observed the wobbly dinner table in front of you and realized it had zero chairs. And on a second glance around the room, you noticed something you hadn’t before. . . a sleeping form on the couch. 

So, it seemed, with the occupied couch being the only other piece of furniture in the living room besides the table. . . the floor had been your only option. 

You used the unconscious state of the room’s other occupant to your advantage and turned a bit to observe the person. The person’s face wasn’t visible and their body was covered in a blanket filled with holes and torn more than it wasn’t. But. . . You could see hair. 

Blonde. Yellow-blonde. Box-dyed with the cheapest dye. 

Long hair, ratty and knotted to the point of almost no fixing it. The way the strands shone a little bit under the dim lighting from the old, dusty lamp showed you it was very oily as well. . . It wasn’t a healthy shine. 

The person on the couch, from what you could see, was far from healthy in any capacity. The body looked malnourished through the blanket’s holes. At closer inspection, you noticed an arm dangling off the sofa, peeking from the blanket. 

The arm was littered in tiny holes and scars. . . from heroin injections, multiple cigarette burns. . . Then there was the red, irritated acne that littered the pale skin, between the various marks. 

Poor thing. What a dreaded way to live life. . . Your heart broke in your chest and tears sprung to your tired eyes as your hand clutched at your tummy. 

You could do that in the memory. You were you in the present, yet placed like you’d been in the past. . . so weird.

All you knew was you had a sense to protect the untouched life in your womb. The feeling of being a protector to your child was unparalleled to anything in this moment. . . You would never let the little life inside of you bear witness to anything like you had as a child. . .

Like your current situation. 

Or, past situation, rather. . . This was not real. Not in the present. This was controlled — controllable.

The paddles jolted in your real hands, helping you to center you.

“Y/n,” Gia’s voice broke through your psyche, touching your brain delicately. You let out a sigh of relief at the sound of her soft spoken tone. “Can you hear me, girly?”

You nodded, but weren’t sure if she could see it or if the action was only visible in your dreamlike stupor. This was so weird. . . 

So, you decided to respond the best you could with words. “Y—yeah,” you stuttered out, blinking rapidly as you tried (and failed) to keep tears at bay. “This is. . . So familiar, yet so forgotten. . .,” your voice faded out. 

Your eyes in the memory were now pinched shut, trying to keep the laughter you could still hear from the kitchen (because, yes, you somehow knew exactly where it was coming from) far away. 

But it just seemed to be getting closer. . .

“Tell me where you are, y/n,” Gia requested, soothing, yet strong. “Take me with you. You are going to be okay.”

“I—I can’t—,” gasping, you shook your head. 

Willing the menacing, thick chuckle to fade, you squinted your eyes open slowly, tried to refocus on the living room to tell Gia what you could. Your hands still held your belly, but your thighs came closer to your chest. You wanted to scrunch up and stay in your bubble. 

“Y/n.”

Your blood ran cold and your skin prickled harshly with goosebumps. Fear. Terror. Dread.

The voice wasn’t Gia’s. It wasn’t Jake’s. No. It was coming from behind you. The person on the couch. The worn down, baby blue fabric couch. The navy blue patterns of it, a distant memory, washing back quickly like a flood. . . 

This was definitely a memory. A real thing that had happened in the past. This had happened before. It was deeply repressed. 

A dark memory. Bad. So, so bad.

You felt dirty for more reasons than one now. . . 

Looking down, you noticed your outfit had changed. Though you still looked as you currently did in 2022, you were wearing an outfit you had as a child. The attire made your skin crawl. 

This pajama set, you were made to wear it more often than not.

A tiny, satin set. Too small for you to properly fit into. How old were you? Nine? Ten? Was this right before you went to live with. . .?

“Pig.”

No. Not that nickname. No no no.

You hadn’t heard that since your mother had called you–.

The person on the couch.

“Piggy.”

Did you have it in yourself to face her? Could you? What would happen if you didn’t? No. No.

You had to. The baby, safe in your belly. . . that baby needed a mom who could face her demons and not fall to them. 

. . .Fall to them like the shell of a woman, on the couch behind you, had fallen to hers. 

You felt crippled with fear, but brave beyond comparison all at once. . .

The steady tremors from the paddles in your hands were the best help you could’ve had in the moment, reminding you of your power. . .

And, once you’d given yourself the strength to swivel your body to meet her eyes. . . there she was. 

A woman whose face had become a shadow since she’d left you. The moment she’d left you. . .a mess of snot and tears, head throbbing as it laid on Elsie’s shoulder, desperate to understand a mother that had never seemed to love you. 

Your eyes were her eyes. Thankfully, that was about where the similarities in your features stopped. 

She was paler than you. Her lips, thin and cracked from lack of hydration where yours were full. Her cheekbones were sharp and protruded more than they should. . . Your cheekbones, defined, yet concealed under soft skin you took very good care of . . . 

And her face. . . It also lacked freckles. You had the tiniest spatter of light freckles that sat at the tops of your cheeks. Your freckles, mimicking angel kisses, which stayed mostly hidden save for the summertime when they’d make an appearance after exposure from the sun. Her skin was washed out, lacking color. It was as if she hadn’t even been exposed to the sun for a long, long time. . .

Perhaps you might’ve looked more like her than you could tell at this moment. But, right now, all you saw was a sunken face, holding more wrinkles and lines than a woman her age should hone. And, her eyes,  even if they looked like yours initially, were glassy and hollow from too many drugs. . . 

Right now, they held uncertainty and a rage that was becoming more and more apparent the longer you looked into her eyes. . .

She looked lost. . . Confused, yet furious. 

The fury, pointed towards you. 

“Get. Up,” your mother ordered, voice cracking a bit, spit flying past her chapped lips. The tone of her voice. . . it made your heart jump into your throat. “Do your job, Pig.”

Before you could respond, you felt heavy footsteps make their way into the living room, shaking the weak structure of the small home that seemed to be falling apart around you. 

“Move, you lazy drug slut,” a booming voice growled. You knew it was aimed towards your mother. “Give little Piggy some space to sit next to Mr. Morgan, hm?”

Mr. Morgan.

The paddles buzzed in your hands, re-centering you. 

You didn’t dare look at the man who’d entered the room behind you, knowing it was the same man attached to the laughter from the kitchen. 

So, it was only out of your peripheral vision when you noticed him round to the other side of you, getting close to your mom. The next thing you saw, faded from the corner of your eye, were fat, sausage-like fingers reaching to yank the thin blanket off your mother. The unmasked view of her figure broke your heart further, her body shaking, bones on full display through her papery skin, begging for a fix. . . 

It didn’t take long for those same fingers to forcefully clutch her shoulder and yank her up. You could’ve sworn you heard the bones in her shoulder crack, but she barely let out a yelp. It was more of a tired groan, eyes closed and eyebrows drawn in with irritation towards being disturbed. 

But, she shook more. . . Her bones, most likely rattling under her skin. And this time, you knew it was more from nerves and terror, than lack of drugs. She was just trying to play tough.

Mr. Morgan (the name, making bile rise in your throat) came to sit at the end of the couch, but your eyes once again drew shut and your body became rigid. Even if you were facing the couch, you still only kept your body towards your mother’s. She wasn’t safe, by any means. But she wasn’t Mr. Morgan. 

You couldn’t look at him. The vile smell of him alone, sweat and grime from lack of showering. . . You were going to hurl on the spot. The way the nausea quickly began to rise in the hollow of your throat, you knew there was no time to get out now. . . Your heartbeat was thrumming so vigorously in your chest, you felt like you were going to choke on its strength.

Then the ugly, bitter laughter was back again. . . Right in front of you this time, your mother moaning next to him. . .

A distant beeping in the background. . . what? Where was that coming–?

The intensity of the paddles increased, the vibrations working to balance you amidst the fear.

“Open your eyes, Pig,” Mr. Morgan grunted, reprimanding you. His voice was stark and loud against the decaying walls of the living room. You winced with what you imagined to come, your heart accelerating and your blood running colder than cold. “Open. Your. Fucking. Eyes, my little whor–.”

The paddles were working so hard to bring you back, but you couldn’t–.

“Y/n.” Gia’s voice rang out through the disgusting home, flowing into your ears, reassuring you. “It’s time to leave, y/n. Find your safe place.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, not with the tears streaming down your face and the way your breath was stuck in your lungs. Your chest stung from the way your heart rate wouldn’t let up. . . the way your heart raced, unrelenting and beating harder every time. . . . The pain was excruciating, making you want to keel over from the intensity. 

There wasn’t a memory of leaving the room, you just knew you had left as you ran. 

You ran as fast as your legs could carry you, eyes still shut to avoid being used by him–Mr. Morgan. God. You hated that man. You hated your mother. 

But, you weren’t with them anymore. The rotting smell of the home and the body odor that reeked from the two people in your vision – it was all gone. You were out. So, you decided to open your eyes. You had to open them to find the place you’d created for a time just like this. . . 

Your place. Your home. The field of lavender. Jake. Peaceful serenity, awaiting you amongst the birds chirping and the light blue skies. . .

So, with eyes open and tears streaming down your cheeks, you decided you needed to be there now. Now now now now. . .

And before you could request it any further, your feet were touching the lush grass and the skies were clear and powdery blue above you. . .

“Are you safe, y/n?” Gia asked, her voice much clearer when you were in the field, surrounded by nature. Your sanctuary. 

“Yes,” you breathed, voice cracking just a little on the word. You hadn’t spoken for a while. . . Too scared to do so. Clearing your throat, you tried once more. “Yes. Yes, I’m safe. I’m in my safe place. The lavender. The beautiful, tall trees filled with green leaves. The breeze is perfectly warm against my face. . .”

“Wonderful,” Gia said, sounding relieved and stoic all at once. “You are okay, girly. You are okay. It’s not your current reality. It’s not right now. This is right now. You are safe.”

Yes. I’m safe. 

Your breathing was coming much easier and your heart wasn’t pounding in your ears any longer. 

Your hands found your belly, the sweetest little round bump.  But where was. . .?

Then, you felt him. Jake. 

Solid and sure behind you, his chest meeting your back. His arms, coming to wrap around you, cradling you and the belly that held his baby. Your head, falling of its own accord to lay back on his shoulder. . . 

You were finally able to relax. Let go. The tears poured from your eyes, wetting your cheeks with steady tracks.

“Shhh,” Jake shushed you, the minty smell of his toothpaste lingering on his breath as it washed over your features. The sandalwood-vanilla of his cologne was reminiscent of heaven, you were sure of it. “It’s okay, baby.”

He swayed you a little, your eyes falling closed in peaceful surrender to him and this moment. . .

“Y/n, I want you to think of your box,” you heard the words, knowing it was Gia. But, you felt Jake saying it. Even if she was the one saying the words, you wanted him to help guide you, too. Your mind was a funny place. 

His voice kept soothing you, “Think of the box and open it. Open it and place the memory you stepped into today inside of it. Secure that memory inside of the box.”

So, with one fleeting glance at the disgusting past you’d had to re-experience today, you mentally opened the lid to the box. And, as the lid opened, you let the people and the stingy place flow quickly into the sturdy wooden structure of the box. 

You could have spit on the people and the place and the smells. . . Fuck it all. 

The sureness of the box truly calmed you as the last little bit of the memory faded into the box. 

“Tuck it away in your box. Just keep it there until you’re ready to revisit it again. . .,” Gia counseled, her words yet again came through as if Jake were saying them. His breath was warm against the column of your throat, lips near to your ear. “You have control of it, y/n.”

Once you knew it was all inside, you let the lid click shut. The little pieces of lavender you imagined to be skillfully painted atop the box assured you that it would all be over soon. 

Beep beep beep beep. The beeping again. Familiar. You’d heard it momentarily at the disgusting, decrepit house. What was it?

“Y/n,” you heard Gia again, her words no longer masked by Jake’s voice. “Are you ready to come back to the office?”

As much as you wanted to never leave the man who still held you, you knew that the sooner you left the safe place, the sooner you could actually see him. He was waiting for you. In the lobby. In the present. 

“Yeah,” you sighed with a sniffle, most of your tears dry after the safety you’d felt in the field of lavender. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

“I’m right here with you,” Gia assured you, her voice the closest it had been since initially closing your eyes. 

You closed your eyes once more, your body feeling lighter. Letting yourself sink into real time, you felt the soft, camel leather of the couch under you, around you. Then came the smell of Gia’s essential oils, filtering in through your senses. Things were okay. 

When your eyes cracked open, so tentative and slow, Gia was ready and waiting with open eyes. 

But the beeping. . . It was still happening — it was incessant. And it was fully apparent now that the sound was coming from your belt bag, hanging on Gia’s office door handle. 

Your heart monitor. 

Shit.

“How long has that been going off?” You blanched, eyes bugged as you got off the couch to grab your bag from the handle. Though, your legs were weaker than you expected, body worn down. It forced you to sit back down to gain your wherewithal.

Noticing this, Gia stuck a hand out to get you to pause from trying again. “I will grab the bag,” she soothed. “You stay there. Give yourself time to adjust to the present time. You’ve been through it, babe.”

All you could do was nod and swallow thickly, your heart no longer beating hard enough to make the phone go off. But apparently it had accelerated at some point. . . 

And then you remembered. 

Mr. Morgan. He’d made your heart rate go ballistic. 

When he’d approached, commanded you to open your eyes, and almost called you that horrible name. . . it had gone insane. 

Your chest had been in so much pain, and you could remember hearing the incessant beeping, now. . .

“Fuck, Gia,” you combed a hand through your hair. “My heart . . . I remember. . . my chest was hurting like a bitch.”

Gia inhaled deeply. “Yeah. . . You know, how about I hold the phone that tracks it from here on out? To keep an eye on your heart rate?” She suggested, raising a brow as she walked back to you with the belt bag. Raising a brow, she eyed you as she got close enough to hand your belongings over to you. “We need to be aware of your health and the baby’s first and foremost, before anything else.”

You swallowed with a slight nod, not wanting to see where your heart had skyrocketed to. But you knew you had to see it. So, you unzipped your bag and shakily got your monitor phone out.

When you slid the screen open to check, your breath caught in your throat. Tears welled in your eyes at the very large number, flashing at you in red. 

Shit. 185. What the fuck?

That could have gotten really bad, really fast if Gia hadn’t stopped you when she did.

“So. . . What had it gotten to?” Gia questioned carefully, wide eyes serious and ready to help. 

You observed her for a second, not wanting to divulge just how high it had gotten for one reason in specific. . . The fear that Gia would make you stop EMDR if she knew just how high it had gotten — that possibility kept your lips sealed.

“Girly, I really feel it’s incredibly important that we keep track of that. I didn’t want to be invasive while you were under, but I heard it and I knew what it was. . .,” Gia tried to counsel you, taking your skeptical gaze as you finding her invasive. “I really didn’t like not knowing what your heart rate was. It’s best we stay aware of that. We have to be so careful of that, girly.”

You wanted to tell her. Duh. Why wouldn’t you want to? You told her everything else. . . The possibility of not being able to—.

“We will still continue our EMDR, y/n,” Gia grinned warmly with a wink. “I know that’s what you’re worried about. . .”

Your mouth puckered, as you took in a deep breath, gawking at the tall blonde across from you. 

You couldn’t help the bubble of a laugh that spurted from your lips, in spite of your worried thoughts. You were in awe of your therapist’s intuition. “How did you know?” You questioned, already mostly knowing the answer.

The answer was: people in this profession were really very incredible. . . And Gia — she, in particular, was so empathetic and so aware of everything that mattered to you. . .

“It’s my job to tune in to that shit,” she grinned, sitting back in her rolling chair, one leg crossed over the other. 

After sharing a smirk with her, you decided you might as well tell her. You were nearing the end of your time, and you assumed she still wanted to be filled in on what had happened during your time under. 

“My BPM was. . . in the 180s,” you divulged, wary of her reaction. “That’s um—that’s really high,” you tagged on to the end, blowing out a breath, still shocked at the number yourself.

“Ho-ly fuck,” Gia stated, eyes wide and mouth in a straight line as she shook her head. “No shit that’s high.”

“We’ll figure it out?” you stated the question, hoping it would be ammunition for Gia to agree. 

“Of course,” she nodded adamantly. Sitting up in her chair, she leaned forward. Her elbows, on the ends of her thighs, near her knee caps. “When do you turn it in? How long do we have with it?”

“I turn it in next week,” you answered, curious where she was going. “Hopefully I’ll get some results and sure answers. . .” Trailing off, you decided to shut up so she could get to her point. 

“Well. . .,” she started, rubbing her palms together, eyes glancing down and back to you, “Would you be opposed to me attaching another monitor to you during our sessions? After that one is turned in?”

“That’s a great plan,” you answered, nodding with pursed lips. “Sounds safe.” Though, you paused. One more question. “And you’ll keep watch of it next time?”

“If that’s what you want from me, I’d love to be able to help you in that way,” she answered with a reassuring sureness in her tone. 

“I do want that,” you replied with a sheepish grin. “I’d appreciate it.”

“Of course, girly,” Gia smiled, lopsided and full of ease. “We’ll make sure to get you through this therapy the safest we possibly can. Gotta protect you and that baby.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

After filling her in on everything from your EMDR vision, she’d given you a few more pieces of therapeutic wisdom and advice. Little things to follow if the memories came back with a vengeance. 

But, you’d gone more than five minutes over your session’s time at that point, pushing her other appointment back. 

So, you didn’t get long before the two of you had to bustle out. You’d been about eight minutes past session end time when you officially exited the small room, the session having just ended. 

A long fucking session.

Your body was extremely weighed down by fatigue and exhaustion. So, when you finally connected with Jake, you sunk happily into his warm, safe embrace. 

It seemed walking directly into Jake’s arms was exactly what your body longed for after leaving Gia’s office. You’d had little to no choice in where your body had guided you.

He had already been standing, waiting for you. His amber-brown eyes, wide open and full of readiness to help you. He’d seemed anxious to see you. You could tell as much by the tapping of his foot, the way he’d been worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, the wrinkle of his brows. . .

So, of course, as soon as you approached, his arms had widened to welcome you in. 

Surprisingly, you hadn’t cried when you met his arms. . . Honestly, it was probably because you’d exhausted your tear ducts during your session. And all that you felt now was pure numbness. You didn’t know how to feel – just knew that you were tired and needed someone to be close to.

And Jake was the person you wanted most. 

Once safe in his embrace, you didn’t have the mental energy to even think about how it would look to Gia – but you knew she’d understand. 

You felt Gia come up behind you, even halfway heard her introducing herself to Jake. 

And even though you were out of it, you still heard Jake respond kindly, hearing the smile in his voice. When he moved his hand to shake hers, you didn’t turn around, just kept your face tucked into his shoulder, one of his arms still tightly hugging you to him. The pressure was really nice – it really calmed you down to feel so secure with him. 

It felt like the field of lavender, but this was really real – and that made it inexplicably better. 

Thankfully since you’d quickly scheduled the next session in Gia’s office, you didn’t have to wait much longer to head home. You didn’t want to leave his embrace, but you ended up turning out of Jake’s arms to tell Gia goodbye. 

When you reached forward to give her a hug, she whispered calmly in your ear. “You’re safe. Everything is okay in the here and now. I’m proud of you, y/n. You are already making great strides.”

After telling her a quiet ‘thank you’, you turned to Jake. 

“I’m ready when you are,” he assured you, lips turned up in an easy grin. His eyes were soft in a way that showed you he really was ready to be whatever you needed him to be. 

You didn’t need to be told again. You were ready for food and sleep. So, after the two of you waved to Gia over your shoulders,  Jake let you lead him out, opening the door for you from behind. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

When you snapped out of your daze and found a bit of energy, you decided to divulge to Jake just how high your heart rate had gotten during the session.

You had expected him to be a little worried on your behalf, but he’d gotten. . . really, really worried. You’d go so far as to call it a minor anxiety attack. 

His eyes had bugged, face had paled, and his breathing had gotten choppy. . . All signs of some serious anxiety on his end. 

His care for the situation was apparent, that much was for certain. He’d babbled in a rush of words – voiced a lot of concern on your behalf and the baby’s. . . Well, that was what you could catch in his raspy, frenzied tone. You’d missed a few things as he’d rushed the words out.

It was really sweet how much he cared. You had to work to keep the tiny grin off your face in response to his obviously sincere regard for your health (and the baby’s). You’d kept your quiet smile at bay the best you could and calmly reassured him that you were wearing a heart monitor for a reason – so the doctors could track those weird things and get down to the root of why your heart sucked ass at times. 

You’d explained that medical professionals had started dealing with it the night at the emergency room and would continue once your monitor got sent in within the next couple of weeks.

“I know today’s already been a lot, but do you have it in you to explain more about that night?” Jake asked, his breathing evening out as he rounded the curb, out of the office parking lot. “The night you went to the emergency room?”

“Yeah, totally,” you readily agreed, jumping at the opportunity to not think about the muddled images still flashing in your mind from your session. “Where do you want me to start?” You wondered aloud, peeking at him as you picked with a loose string on the seam of your leggings.

He cleared his throat in the way that indicated he was a little nervous. “What triggered it, exactly? Had you been okay at the bar that night? Was it because of something that had happened there?”

“It wasn’t really because of anything that happened at the bar, no,” you shook your head, looking down at the string you were pulling at, giving it a good yank to do away with it. “And I was kind of okay that night. . . Same as I’d been every other day around the time,” you laughed humorlessly, not missing those days at all. 

But, you couldn’t help reflecting on the events at the bar. . . since he'd brought it up. That night, just thinking of it still gave you butterflies. . . The way he’d feasted his eyes on you as your song played. . .

Stay focused, y/n.

“Um— during those earlier days, I’d had several days where I’d been really fuckin’ dizzy. . . could hardly eat most days, always nauseous and puking. . .,” you crinkled your nose at the thought, shivering at the memories. 

After getting over the thought of the constant vomiting, you stopped your train of thought to consider the fainting. All of the factors. You were not sure what to blame in particular. Though, you remembered Dr. Stevens’ opinion. 

“Honestly, more than one factor triggered it. . . but. . .,” you drew in a breath, pinching your eyes shut at the worst part of the night. “I actually blacked out and fucking fainted,” you cracked one eye open to look over at him to gauge his reaction.

“You blacked— you what?!” His voice rose a little bit at the idea, the car swerving the slightest bit when he glanced at you.

“Focus on the road!” You shook your head, eyes now opened wide at his swerve. However, you did find his reaction a bit funny. “I’m fine now, Jake,” you reassured, reaching over to give his arm one squeeze. 

But quickly, you placed your hand back in your lap to avoid any sort of awkwardness. 

You offered him a smile as your hand moved, looking up at him from your twitching thumbs, just as he glanced down at you. 

His eyebrows were still knit with worry when he faced the road again. “You’re sure?”

“Mostly,” you answered, thinking of the heart monitor’s job, peering down briefly to where it stayed on your chest. “They’re tracking my heart rate to make totally sure. And I’ve even kept an eye on my hemoglobin — which is doing much better, too. Not that you care about that part—.”

“I care about it all,” Jake interrupted, his tone insistent enough to make you pause and look over at him. 

Let him care, y/n. He wants to. . . Don’t tell him what he cares about and what he doesn’t. . .

From under your lashes, you studied him. You were glad he was now stopped at a light, giving you a little time to share a look with him. His eyes were full of warmth. . . The deep brown of his irises, capturing you. His eyes held yours so tenderly, desperate for you to understand he meant what he said.

And you did understand. You understood that he truly cared for you. . . and that his patience for you was incredible. You just felt completely undeserving of the amount of chances he’d given you after you’d hurt him so badly. 

The look in his eyes had you trapped, completely enamored by all of him. . . Your heart beat was pulsing in your ears, helping you to feel light as a feather under his stare. 

But, when a car honked to let you both know the light had turned green, it jolted you both, effectively tearing your focus from the other. He was driving again and you were back to looking through the windshield to continue your story. 

You cleared your throat to break up the air.

“We um— we checked all the boxes, you could say. The doctor was sure to put measures in place to keep an eye on all of the things that could have been a major issue to trigger that,” you spoke confidently, to give him affirmation that things were okay. “So, yes, I’m sure I’m fine now and I’m going to be fine in the future.”

Out of selfish desire, you let your line of sight float back to him. Yet again. It was just so easy to sit and admire his natural beauty. . .

Jake sucked in a breath, so deep from his chest. You could tell he was considering your words, one brow still arched in contemplation. 

“Okay,” he sighed his response, relief evident in his looser posture. He eased up his grip on the wheel, leaning back in the seat. You tried not to watch the way his jeans stretched over his lap. “So,” he started, “is there anything else you found out that night? A big, prevailing reason you quite literally blacked out?”

“The doctor I spoke to thinks it’s because of this underlying condition I most likely have — called POTS.”

“POTS?” He asked, his tone curious. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that.”

“It’s just a blood circulation disorder. I think I’ve had it nearly all my life. But it can be brought on by stress and cause things like fainting. . .,” you trailed off, glancing down at your belly. “Which I was obviously feeling a lot of with the baby. I mean, talk about massive life change,” you smirked, rubbing the bump that was more and more noticeable every day. 

“And I was the only one who knew this giant thing for a bit. . . then only Elsie knew. And, yeah, when Josh found out, I was feeling a little better. Felt lighter. . .,” you paused, your next words, being important to you. “But I still wanted to tell you most,” your lips lifted in spite of yourself. “But, we weren’t really talking because of all the shit that happened between u–.”

You stopped yourself at that, though. Shit. Today didn’t really seem like the time to get into all of that. It had already been such a long day. 

The car stayed silent for a few beats. 

Once Jake started speaking again, your eyes found his handsome profile.

“Yeah. . .,” Jake offered in response to that, his jaw clenching. His eyes were dead-set on the road. The expression on his face, hard. Yet. . .it wasn’t angry. Not angry at all, just thoughtful. 

He seemed to be contemplating it all.

He proved you right with his next words, bringing you back. “I need you to know—I’m really fucking sorry for not being so present—for not noticing more. I wish I would’ve been more aware and been there for you. . . Shit, I should have noticed you weren’t eating normally and were constantly sick,” he rubbed his forehead once, jaw tight again as he spoke on the subject. “I was still just stuck in my own head over stuff — really hurt. I still am, I think. But, I also, more importantly, had no way of knowing that you were carrying my kid, so. . .,” he trailed off, clearing his throat. “So I didn’t watch too hard for things out of the ordinary — my mind was in other places.” 

Other places, your mind repeated, mocking you. Like Maya. . . 

Your stomach was still churning at the depressing thought of him having ignored you and still being hurt (albeit, you’d deserved it), when his voice echoed back through your train of thought. 

“I did notice you weren’t home that night, though. . . After dropping Maya off at her place, I got home and you weren’t there. I. . .,” he sniffed, running a nervous hand through his hair as he looked both ways to make a turn. “I panicked, noticed your chapstick and house key were on the ground outside — it made no fuckin’ sense. I called Josh to ask him where you were — assumed he’d know. And, he did. But he told me the bare fucking minimum. I didn’t even know you were at the emergency room. He just told me not to worry and cut me off with an ‘I love you’ before hanging up on me,” Jake rolled his eyes at the memory, fists gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter. “Now I know it’s because you obviously really needed him. . . But at that point, I was so pissed. Obviously, you were in some sort of bind and there was nothing I could do to help since we were. . .,” he let his train of thought fade into nothing. Your mind was a frenzy of everything he was telling you, but you tuned back in when he began speaking again. “And then your heart monitor came in the mail. . . I didn’t even think about how they could be connected. I just knew the very little Josh had told me from that night and then I saw a damn heart monitor show up. . . I was just super fucking confused and terrified for you. . . I was trying my best to connect all of the dots.”

“Well. . .,” you started, not sure if you should say what you were thinking. But still, you did. “It wasn’t really any of your business at that point. I didn’t want to make you— it was just a lot to process for me and we. . .,” you trailed off, at a loss. Still so tired from the session. “I don’t know. . . I had reasons.”

“I know, y/n,” he responded, voice tight with masked emotion. 

You didn’t know what to say after that. Your eyes were trained on what was outside the passenger side window.

The air in the car was dense, slightly awkward on your end. 

It was strange how weird things could feel after a damn conversation when, just a week ago in this very car, you’d had him in your mouth. 

It was slightly embarrassing that a hard conversation topic was what it took to make both of you freeze up. But, somehow, you could still find the wherewithal to have your mouth on his. . . Mhm.

That was what you got for making sex such a giant thing before. . . now you’d made that easy and everything else fucking taboo. 

But the sex had just been too good to not make it something you did all the damn time. . . 

God, you missed sex with him. . . Him, inside of you, his hips going at a perfect pace. . .

Thanks to your motherfucking hormones, you were back in the living room floor with him. . . So often, you went back to that one rainy morning with Aretha Franklin on the turntable. . .

The look on his face when you fucked him, one of your favorite sights. That morning, just like always, he’d watched you so closely. . . Your face, your breasts, your ass, or your pussy that was wrapped around him, so tight. 

As he fucked you so slow and purposeful, a hand raising your leg to get a better angle, he hit a secret spot inside of you. Your toes had curled as you whined his name.

And just as his name fell from your lips, he’d scrunched his brows, and let his mouth fall open with certain movements of his hips. His jaw, clenched, when you’d flex around him or biting his lip when you’d let out a shaky breath. . . 

“Y/n?”

“Yes?” You shook your head of the fucking delicious scene in your memories. 

Now was not the time. 

To show respect, you did your best to wipe the picture and put your full attention on him. You glanced at him. He looked so beautiful under the natural light of the early evening and the streetlights. And his hair looked so healthy and long. . .

“I’m not upset or anything that you kept any of it from me,” he ventured to explain, your mind coming back to the topic at hand. “I need you to know that.”

“You’ve kind of already told me all of this before,” you started with a smile, eyeing the radio for a bit. 

Music. You needed music. 

You began to mess with the buttons, turned down the volume, and hooked your phone up to the aux. “I know you, Jake,” you continued with a sigh, scrolling your playlists, finding a song you were suddenly craving to hear. “I know you well enough to know you aren’t upset with me for keeping it all from you for a bit. You have a good heart.”

“You give me too much credit,” he humorously laughed. “I’m not always so sure about how good I am these days — kind of always doubted that about myself and right now is no different.”

At his words and sound of disbelief, you looked over at him with a wrinkle in your brow. His own eyebrows were set with an odd, unreadable emotion. You hadn’t clicked the song to play yet. This was too important to not address.

“Jacob,” you said sternly. His eyes stayed glued to the busier street. “I don’t give you ‘too much credit’.  I just see you and know you well – anyone who truly matters sees you for who you truly are. I, like all of them, love y— appreciate everything you are.” 

Shit. What was that that almost slipped from your lips?! Nothing. It was nothing. Ignore, ignore, ignore. . . 

You were just hormonal and emotional. 

You continued with intent to make your point known, doing your best to forget the slip-up. “I’ve made my fair share of mistakes – we all have. Don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m not about to hold anything against you right now.”

Cracking a smile, you decided you wanted to throw in a bit of a joke. “I mean, I would have to hold it against you if you killed someone or some shit,” you giggled, his own raspy laugh joining you. 

But fuck, you couldn’t ignore that one emotion you were feeling. . .

It wasn’t love. It couldn’t be. You didn’t know why the fuck you’d said that word of all words.

But this feeling. . . It was intense like love could be. It had your heart in your throat and your tummy tied in nervous knots. . . 

You’d felt a need to say the words. A need for him to know how much you. . . how much you. . . How much you what, exactly?!

This was going to drive you fucking nuts. 

So, to break the nonstop, crazy wave of thought, you played the song you felt like playing at the moment. 

The song was “In the Moment” by Snoh Aalegra, one of your favorite R&B goddesses. 

And, of course, the lyrics matched your heart. Perfectly. Oddly. Precisely. Music was your favorite language.

Do you mind if I try to come apologize to you?

'Cause I said some things that I realized wasn't true

You couldn’t stop your movements when your head slowly turned to look in his direction. His sunglasses were off due to the darker sky, so you could see every blink of his pretty eyes, long lashes touching the dark circles under his eyes with each blink. He watched the road carefully, maneuvered around cars with an ease that had you hoping he’d be around to drive you to the hospital on a certain day in May. . . 

Your heart swelled in your chest at his attention to the road. This particularly protective nature of his, as the driver, was new. . .

And I'm sorry for it 

I'm emotional 

This is your fault 

Please listen when I say 

I care about you

You tried to look away from him. Really, you did. It just couldn’t be helped. The way these lyrics kept pulling something from deep within your soul as you watched him drive. . .

But you still couldn’t figure out what was getting pulled in you, exactly. It felt weird, but only in a fulfilling way. . . Your heart ached, your head clouded with all things surrounding him. 

And then, just as he stopped at a red light, his eyes met yours. 

You had been caught red handed in your stare, but it didn’t seem to matter. Not to you, not to him. He smiled at you, the same, warm smile you knew all too well to be uniquely his. (And hopefully your baby’s.) 

The lyrics and melody of the song were adding to your already emotionally-tangled state. You just wanted to be with him always—hold him tight so he couldn’t leave. Never wanted him to leave.

Out of pure instinct, your hands found rest on your tummy, tucking underneath the bump. His smile only grew, stretching wide on his lips as his eyes followed the movement. Your heart did a little flip in your chest. 

This moment. . .

His foot let off the brake when the light turned green, pulling his eyes away from yours. The music coasting through the speakers said all the things you so desperately wanted to say. Though, Snoh sang them far more beautifully than you could ever say them yourself.

I was in the moment

I ain't really mean what I said to you

So put away your pride, baby

We can work it out if you want this, too

You hoped on every star in the winter sky that Jake was listening to the words, somehow feeling them as deeply as you were.

But if I could stay, I’d stay with you. . .

Your phone ringing snapped you out of your reverie and when you looked down to see who it was, you were not expecting the contact you saw. 

The OB office. 

Your heart started speeding up in your chest again, breath catching and nerves wracking your system at the most inopportune time. As you turned down the song to talk to the person on the other end, you contemplated why they were calling. . .

The appointment had already been rescheduled. . . So what else could be needed? Was something wrong?

You felt Jake’s palm splay across your thigh, fingers giving light, pulsing grips to the muscle through the fabric of your leggings. Skin heating at his touch, you looked up and over at him. 

“Who?” He whispered, quietly as he could. 

“OBGYN,” you mouthed back, clicking the green button to answer at the same time that he raised a brow in confusion.

“Hello?” You spoke into the phone, trying to keep your voice even-toned for whoever called you.

“Miss y/n?” Dr. Rose responded. Her Southern accent, friendly, on the other end, sounding happy as a lark. 

Hearing her sound okay helped your nerves ease up – weren’t quite as frayed as they had been to begin with. Jake’s hand was still on your leg, offering reassurance. But while his touch did comfort you, it also made your heart rate speed up and head swim for another reason entirely. 

Thankfully, considering the baby, your heart was slowing down. . . If Dr. Rose sounded fine, then surely things were fine, right? 

“Hi, Dr. Rose,” you said, voice perking up just the slightest bit. Looking out the windshield, you focused on the pretty colors in the sky. All light pinks, oranges, and the prettiest periwinkle thanks to the winter evening’s premature setting sun. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, more than, Sweet Cakes! Just checkin’ in to see that Friday still works for ya,” she explained, her drawl not quite as thick the more she spoke. But it was still there and it made you feel warm inside for some reason. 

Admittedly, you knew it was partially due to the fact that she seemed to only be calling to confirm your appointment. According to Dr. Rose, everything was ‘more than’ alright. . . you released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. 

“Yeah. It works for me,” you sighed, running a nervous hand through your hair, knee still bouncing with the unexpectedness of the phone call. “Let me check with Jake real quick. I’m with him right now,” you held your hand over the speaker, looking over to your handsome driver. He’d just made it onto a highway, but momentarily glanced down at you. You hushed your next question, not wanting to disturb Dr. Rose. “Does Friday still work for you? For the week 17 appointment?”

Jake’s face opened up at the question, his eyes brightening with a smile that lifted the corner of his mouth. “Of course,” he quietly responded. “I have the whole day blocked off just for that.”

Your stomach did somersaults at him being so excited for the appointment, but you still dipped your eyebrows in at him. “You didn’t have to do that,” you whispered back. “Take the whole day for it.”

Jake shook his head, and with a dimple in his cheek, he just looked back at the road. Didn’t even acknowledge what you said any further. 

You closed your eyes, a small smile on your lips at his desire to be fully available – it gave you butterflies. Back to the phone call at hand, you faced the windshield again to continue the call with your OB. “Dr. Rose?” 

“Yes ma’am,” she excitedly greeted back.

“It still works for us,” you said, the smile not fading from your lips. Us. You really, really loved the sound of that word coming off your tongue. “Are you sure you’re still okay doing the appointment before week 18? I know how you feel about all of that. . .”

You didn’t know why you were asking – shouldn’t have even said anything. The idea of putting it off any longer was not what you wanted, and you didn’t want to make Dr. Rose think you’d be okay with that. But, it was too late now. You’d already asked. 

“Oh, yes, babygirl. I’m the one that made ya wait past week 16! I felt bad, but I didn’t want ya to have any lull period,” she boomed on the other end, sounding so genuinely kind-hearted. It made your heart feel so full. “Completely fine with me – why I offered it to ya! I gotta admit, I’m a little excited to be findin’ out the gender a week earlier than normal. Ya know I never do that for my girls, but you’ve just seemed very special to me since the day you walked in. You’re a good seed in a bag ‘a bad ones, sweetie pie. So, I just had to make an exception.”

“Thank you so much, Dr. Rose,” you gushed, a tear coming to the corner of your eye at her sentiment.

“I knew it would drive ya nuts havin’ to wait.”

“It would have,” you giggled, agreeing with a sniff to attempt to rid yourself of the tear. 

She laughed heartily on the other end. “You have a beautifully passionate heart, little miss y/n,” she remarked. “You’re goin’ to be a wonderful mama for it.” 

Aaand, there was no stopping the tear as it turned into a couple more, drifting down your cheek. 

Jake must have looked over at the perfect time, because as soon as the tears fell, he was squeezing your thigh once more. His hand had never left your body. 

But, you really needed him to stop holding you and caring because you were going to pounce on him. No questions asked. . .especially with the fluffy headspace you were in. 

Emotional over a phone call or not, your body reacted to him in ways you couldn’t stop.

“How’s your heart?” Dr. Rose was in your ear again, bringing you back. She was in no rush whatsoever. You were shocked that she seemed to want to keep the conversation going. Even after the first question, she continued with another. “I know ya filled me in on it a little bit last week on the phone, but any more updates?”

“Doing alright, I think,” you responded, sniffling at her eagerness to stay updated on your wellbeing. Was she just being a good doctor? Probably. But, still. It meant a lot to you. “I will send my monitor in on the 17th. I’m so ready to be done with it,” you replied with a huff of a laugh, looking down to mess with a loose string on your oversized jacket. “And I think everything else has gotten much better since that ER visit, too. Just keeping an eye on things,” you finished, happy to explain everything to her. 

This phone call was officially a highlight to your day now that you knew there was no reason to stress over it. Dr. Rose just made you feel good. You really enjoyed talking to the older Southern woman. Her heart shone through her personality. And, whether she made these efforts for all patients or not (you were sure she did), it just meant the world to you that she seemed to be so thoughtful. 

She seemed to take very seriously that it was a vulnerable time in any woman’s life. Dr. Rose just seemed to do very well at her job. You were grateful for her.

“When Mount Sinai sent over that information all those weeks ago, I gotta be honest, it stressed me for ya for a bit,” she said, voice suddenly thick with a sort of concerned emotion. Not worried anymore, you could tell that much. But, it was obvious she had been troubled by it when it initially happened, from the way she sounded now. 

“Although, when I read all of their tests on my end, I knew you’d be okay. Just a bump in the road, sweetie – it happens. You will be just fine!” She reassured you in her twang, the words made your head clear in a way you’d needed since the night at the hospital. “And, that sweet baby was doing so great still, in spite of it all. You’ve got a strong one, mama.”

Yeah, there was no stopping the onslaught of tears at those words. Your baby was strong. You were so proud. 

“Yeah?” You sniffed. “You think so?”

“I know so. That little one was movin’ and groovin’ already that first day. . . that sure doesn’t happen with every baby! He or she is very special – just like their mama,” she emphasized, sniffling on her own end of the phone. “Well. . . . as long as this Friday still works for you, I think I can let ya go, honey bun.”

“Yes, it does,” you confirmed once more, pulling the sleeve of your jacket over your hand and patting your cheeks with it. “Thank you again.”

“No need to thank me, Sweet Cakes.” You could hear her smile through the phone, imagined her lips covered in the prettiest bright red matte lipstick. “You have a good nigh– oh! Before ya go. . . .”

“Yes?” you questioned curiously, eyebrow raising with a little grin on your lips. 

“You mentioned a Jake earlier. Does this Jake happen to be the baby’s daddy?”

You blushed, looking over at him. He glanced over at you at the same time, an eyebrow raising when you caught his eye. Your cheeks heated even more when you looked into his eyes. Your baby’s daddy. 

“He is the baby’s daddy, yeah,” you explained, continuing to watch him as you said the words. He had to keep his eye on the road, but you saw how his lips stretched, the smile showing his pride at the title.

“And he will be comin’?”

“He will be there,” you affirmed, your heart racing in your chest at the idea of him being there with you. It had you equal parts jittery and utterly overjoyed to have him be present at the appointments.

“Wonderful. Sounds like a good daddy already,” she gushed from her end of the phone. 

And when he came to the next light, much nearer to the complex, you watched him and waited until he looked over at you. When his eyes found yours, glowing amber-brown in the nearly-set sun, your heart squeezed inexplicably in your chest. 

“He is a really good daddy,” you answered, tears threatening to clog your throat. 

After you said the words, you watched his eyes become wet with an unnamed emotion. A wide, slightly shaky grin on his pretty lips. With the addition of a pink blush in his cheeks, you wanted to be able to read the exact way he was feeling. 

But. . . at the current moment he suddenly seemed impossible to read. There was something behind his eyes that seemed so familiar and so hazy all at once. . .

Or maybe you were just really, really tired.

-🌼🌼🌼-

“I don’t have to go to this tonight,” Jake offered, pulling into the complex. 

You raised a brow, looking at him. As much as you wanted him to stay with you after today’s session, you knew that sleep was the first priority. He’d end up sitting around most of the night anyway.

If things were different, you would ask him to lay down with you. You’d keep him close. But. . . That wasn’t how things were for the two of you. 

You needed a nap and he needed to be with his girlfriend. As much as it sucked, she took priority over you. He wasn’t yours.

You already felt selfish enough for taking his entire early evening away from him. You didn’t want to steal any more of his night. 

“No, Jake,” you giggled, trying your best to play off the want to have him near. “I’m good. You’ve done everything you can for me tonight. Don’t need you for anything else — you’re free.”

It was silent for a little bit as Jake found his parking space. You were too tired to keep any sort of conversation going, preparing to doze against the window as he went to back into his space. 

Though, when he placed his hand on the headrest behind you to back in, you couldn’t help but turn to glance up at him. 

The way he held his bottom lip between his teeth as he focused on situating the Jeep into the parking space, just right. . . You felt guarded and protected by the placement of his arm above you. It made your tummy flip. 

And the mustache that kept making a reappearance on his pretty face, accentuating his plush lips perfectly. . . 

You licked your lips as you watched him, your eyes lazy as you let your stare wander down his body . . . 

But before you could get too far, Jake’s deep, raspy tone broke through to you.

“Hey.” 

Fuck. Your tiredness was quickly becoming enemy number one, exposing you.

Quickly, you flicked your eyes up to him, swallowing thickly, awaiting him with vulnerability clear on your features. 

For some reason, you expected to see him grinning at you being caught. But his features were unwaveringly straight, studying your face with his eyebrows drawn in concentration.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his eyes soon finding yours to pierce through. Damn, you felt naked under his stare. No two ways about it. 

Your eyes sunk into his, wishing you were naked—.

“You’ve had a long day and I want to be available—.”

“I’m sure,” you cut him off, needing to get out of the car before you made a stupid move. You just needed rest; your tiredness was making you weak. 

“Please. Go have fun,” you encouraged further, looking down to observe your nails, desperate to be repainted. Shaking your head, you continued to solidify your point. “You’ve done enough for me. You have a girlfriend who’s expecting you to be with her tonight.”

And if you stay here tonight, there’s no telling what I’ll try to do with you. . . 

“‘Kay,” he responded. At his short tone, your eyes floated up to check on him. You watched as he quickly grabbed his keys out of the ignition, refusing to look at you until the last second. “I’ve gotta get going pretty soon then.”

“Yeah,” you breathed with a shake of your head, unsure of what else to say. And before he could get your door for you, you were doing it yourself — didn’t want to get in his way. 

Whatever this conversation had become, it was far too much for your brain to wrap around at this moment. 

You needed fucking sleep.

-🌼🌼🌼-

After you’d filled your Stanley and sat it on your bedside table, your next mission was to change into looser, cozier clothes. You stripped your pants and bra, and found a giant t-shirt. And your softest fuzzy socks had been a last minute must have before finding your bed. 

Finally.

Almost as soon as you landed on your bed, your eyes were fluttering closed. The softness of your sheets and duvet, the cleanliness and the comfort of your bed was too incredible for you to resist sleep for long. 

At the same time, Jake was getting ready for his time with Maya, and had apparently decided to shower. When the steady stream of water sounded through the wall, you relaxed even further. You focused on the soothing sound of the shower running and imagined how near he was to you. 

He hadn’t left you yet.

Admittedly, putting your mind on Jake going about his business made you feel quite at home. 

And that thought had been the seemingly final step to finding rest, sleep finding you quite easily with easy thoughts of your handsome roommate. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

But, to your disdain, the nap didn’t last as long as you’d hoped. 

After only a couple of hours, you’d woken up and couldn’t go back to sleep to get any more rest. You tried to fall asleep again. It was all you’d wanted after your emotionally exhausting day. 

The longer you laid in your bed and tried to find more sleep, you realized it was just not going to happen. The small apartment felt too big and empty and your mind raced with the scene you’d witnessed during EMDR. 

To your demise, the little wooden box had somehow cracked open a little while you slept. You figured it was because you’d dreamt of what you’d seen in therapy. Your subconscious was working without your complete consent. 

That man with the thick fingers and clenched fists. . . He’d come floating out of the box first as you laid underneath your fluffy, white, clean bed covers. . . 

Mr. Morgan. . . Who was he? You could not place his role in it all yet. . . While you were able to remember him and his living room now, that was about where it stopped. 

The smell of him had stuck with you most since the memory. The potentness of his body odor in your subconscious had been a severe trigger – a trigger to things you weren’t capable of remembering yet. 

But, you knew that whenever those things did get conjured up again, you wouldn’t be ready. You just knew. The feeling alone that came associated with him and seeing him again. . . made you feel grimy – made your skin crawl like bugs were living underneath your flesh. 

Then there was your mother. You hadn’t been able to recall the distinct features of her face for years. Your grandparents didn’t have pictures of her up in their home – only ones of you and Elsie through the years. It was like she hadn’t ever existed. 

But today? Today she was back. Full force. You felt her. You smelled her. You saw every. single. feature. 

The stringiness of your mom’s hair when she’d been with the man in the recollected vision. . . 

You couldn’t help but compare the hair in the vision to the fullness of it in small memories you cherished. . . There was a certain Christmas memory you kept close, her sweater had been brand new. Her hair, naturally brown and billowing out beautifully behind her. You had a few of those moments in time. A few decent memories you’d never let go completely away. No matter how much time passed or how foggy they became, you held onto them.

What struck you as disheartening was the way the woman transitioned from one version of herself to another in the fragments of time you could grasp. You remembered, it was rare to consistently witness the same mom growing up. You’d been forced at a young age to confront the fact that you never truly knew the woman that gave birth to you.

She’d been very dirty more times than not, you could remember that much now. From what you were beginning to recall, she rarely smelled good. Showers hadn’t seemed to be her forte from the grease that had been constantly caked in her hair if she wasn’t with your grandparents. Her skin had even been oily from her lack of showers, just as greasy as her hair. 

The houses she had you living in, too. . . you could vaguely picture a few of those (besides Mr. Morgan’s). The one you were in within your recollected memory today had been so filthy. The grossness of the environment was coming to you in small bits. There’d been times you’d seen families of cockroaches climb into the pantry. . . Or when an occasional rat would scurry across the stained carpet, right past your feet. . . 

You shivered in your bed at the thought, toes wiggling against your soft socks and covers. The loose sheet and duvet came closer to your chin as you tried to completely envelop yourself in your current reality. Things were safe.

It was just a-fucking-lot to process alone. And the last thing you wanted to do was burden anyone else with it. So, even if Jake had stayed with you rather than Maya after therapy, you knew you’d still be swirling in circles in your mind. 

You were just glad you only had to wait a week for therapy to continue digging through this with the help of your therapist. 

The images of the man and your mother kept flip-flopping in your mind, not leaving you alone — each taking turns in mocking your peace. It was enough that you felt your breath become choppy and your heart begin to race in your chest. Your clammy hands were clenching and unclenching over and over again, trying to find some sort of relief and distraction from the thoughts. The smells were coming back to you, vivid as they’d been during your therapy today. . . 

And the moment you began to hear that distant, haunting chuckle from your past, embedded in the new flashes of memory, you shut your eyes. You squeezed your lids together so tightly. Your fists came to cover your eyes, pushing down on them just a little to see stars alongside the black. 

Yet, the sound continued to get closer and closer to you. Desperately, you thought back on Gia’s advice should this happen. 

One of the small pieces of advice she’d given you, when the session’s time was five-minutes passed.  

“Now, if these things come back or more memories come to you and you would rather not think of them in the moment they do: take a break,” Gia had advised, going to hold your hands in hers between the two of you. “Take a break, wherever you are, and go to your safe place.”

She’d given you a couple of other things to try, but she’d stayed insistent that you try the safe place first. Every time. Get used to the place, make it a habit to run to it in these times. 

So, you tried your damnedest to shut the thoughts out like you would on her soft, camel leather couch. Your eyes closed as you tried, working to focus on the idea of traveling to a field of lavender and Jake. 

Though before you could get any further, your eyes snapped open, knowing you had one more step before you went there. 

You tried to even your breathing, unclenching your fists. Once you’d relaxed enough to loosen your hands, you searched for some meditation music on Spotify. 

And once you’d found a dreamy playlist, you laid back to feel it. Your goal: feel it enough to let go. 

This time when you closed your eyes, you did it with less force and breathed in and out, in and out. Once again, everything was black. . . but just for the first minute or so. 

It didn’t take long for you to hear the birds chirping and to feel the solid chest breathing beneath you. He breathed deeply – in and out, in and out, just as you did.

Almost as soon as you felt your body settle into him and the soft ground of the earth, you heard him speak, too. It was like you were hearing him through a rush of warm wind, a breeze drifting across your face. “You’re doing great, baby,” he soothed you in his velvety tone, running a sure hand through your hair, fingers tracing your scalp. You shivered, enjoying the wonderful feeling it gave you, all the way to the tips of your toes. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Further, you pushed into him, wanting to be as close to him as you could be. You wrapped your arms around him the best you could while laying down, needing to feel his body tightly against your own. When you did this, he wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you into him. Your round belly, pressed between the two of you, made your heart settle into a soothing thrum in your chest. 

No other words were said as you laid there, the sky blue when you finally opened your eyes to the new place. The field of lavender, so lucious and smelling heavenly around you. The purple flower surrounding you smelled clean, peaceful, and a lot like. . . love. It was a strange idea that a flower would smell like love, but you’d come to associate it with someone who–.

Knock, knock, knock, knock. 

Your eyes opened at a moment’s notice when you heard a knock on the front door. Somehow, the sound against the door managed to break you from your hypnotic-like reverie. The knocks weren’t small or soft thuds by any means, but it was odd that you’d heard them all the way through to your sacred place. All the way through your bedroom door. . . 

Though, thankfully, after having a bit of time to visit the safest place your mind could conjure up, you were on the path to feeling fine again. So after laying in bed for a few more seconds, you got up and padded to the door in your fluffy socks.

Before you opened the door, you peeked through the peephole. 

When you did, your eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. Your breathing evened out significantly for the first time since waking from your nap. And without any hesitancy, you unlatched the chain and unlocked the knob and deadbolt. 

As soon as you opened the door, you were greeted by Jake, a very apologetic smile on his face. One of his hands covered his eyes in feigned embarrassment, making a slit in his fingers to look at you through them. His other hand was tucked in the front pocket of his black slacks. 

He’d changed clothes after dropping you off. 

Duh, he’d showered, y/n. He wouldn’t be wearing the same dirty clothes afterwards . . . 

He was now dressed very nicely, his hair looking so healthy and full. A few strands were still damp here and there, from the shower you’d heard him start as you’d fallen asleep for your nap.

And goddamn. He smelled so fucking delicious – you could’ve melted into him. 

Rather than focusing on the way the hints of sandalwood and vanilla in his cologne made you feel airy, you asked the question you couldn’t help but wonder. “Where is your key?” 

A hint of a laugh was present in your tone as you crossed your arms over your boobs – which you noticed were slightly less sore than normal. 

Pleasant surprise. 

Oh, fuck. Your boobs. No bra. Only wearing a giant t-shirt and fuzzy socks. The thong you were wearing was a poor excuse at covering your ass. 

Glancing down briefly, you were reassured by the length. It was long enough to fully cover your backside, went down your thighs a bit. . . but you still felt very bare. 

When you looked up, you found that Jake had noticed your lack of clothing at the same time as you. His stare burned through your t-shirt, all the way down to your blushing skin. Your chest was heaving of its own accord, nipples hardening at the attention from him. . . 

His gaze soon dropped down to your lips, his own parting as his tongue went to wet his mouth.

No. You had to be the responsible one here. You could do it. 

So, you forced a subtle short cough, toes wiggling in your fuzzy socks. And, thankfully, it brought him back to the current situation. 

His wide, brown eyes snapped to yours, staying there momentarily. It made your cheeks pink — the way he was unashamedly sharing this moment with you. He didn’t seem embarrassed at all as he bit his lip with a grin stretched over his lips. 

Fuck.

“Your key?” You tried again with a squeak. Rolling your eyes, your short cough was real this time as you had to clear your throat. Ridiculous.

Not saying anything, he responded like nothing had occurred before. He motioned with his head towards the kitchen bar behind you. Your head turned to follow his eyes. And, you found his keys, still laying on the counter, not having been touched since before he left. 

“Did Maya pick you up?” You asked him, arching a brow at the keys. 

“Yes.”

“How’d you get back?” Okay, y/n, now’s not the time for twenty questions. 

“Uber,” he simply answered, a little hiccup following the word.

“Well. . . did you come back for them to drive yourself?” You asked, turning back around to face him, hoping he wouldn’t say ‘yes’. You selfishly wanted him to stay. 

For the first time since you’d woken up, your body felt light. . . . And, you’d noticed it had happened the exact moment you saw him outside your door. 

Shaking his head, he finally looked at you head-on, and you could see his eyes were the slightest bit unfocused. 

Oh. . . A smirk rested on your lips as you crossed your arms once more.

He had a goofy, carefree smile on his lips. And then you smelled it — the slightest tinge of alcohol on him as he swayed a bit towards you. 

Raising a brow, your lips continued to match his grin. Giggling, you pondered aloud, “Did you have a drink or two, babe?” 

You didn’t say that last word. Nope. 

“Maaaaybe,” he said, shrugging with both hands in his pockets now, the silly smile still plastered to his lips. “It was a party, after all,” he tagged on to the end, a bit of a British lilt falling over his words. 

A party. Hm. For some reason, you hadn’t even thought of that as a possibility. Why did the fact that it’d been a party make your stomach turn a little bit? 

“A party?” You inquired, tucking your arms a little closer against your chest. And there was the tenderness again. 

“Maya’s baby sister— eight years younger than Maya,” he over-explained, tripping over himself a little as he made his way through the door without any warning. “Turned twenty one today.”

Oh, that explains the excessive drinking, you gathered mentally. 

But, as you stood there connecting the dots, you didn’t focus enough on the fact that he was falling into you through the door frame. Thankfully, you put your arms out in time to stop him from bumping into you to the point of knocking you over. But when you put your arms out to stop his fall, he got the wrong idea and put his arms out as well, crashing into you a bit as he wrapped them around you in a secure embrace. 

It took a bit for you to register what was happening as you stood in shock at the gentle gesture amidst his drunkenness. And while you were registering it all, he must’ve gotten the idea that you didn’t want him so close to you. So, very slowly, he pulled away. 

Rather awkwardly, you just stood there, arms still held out in shock from the sudden hug. 

Why were you surprised at all? He’d been like this recently – just today at counseling, he’d been extremely attentive, holding you when you’d needed him. . . 

Was this time different? Was it because now he was doing it for virtually no reason at all? You weren’t in need of his help or his comfort (that he knew of) at the moment. And, he still wanted to hug you – that was what caught you completely off guard. 

He’s drunk, y/n, a voice reminded you. Don’t overthink it. It’s just because he’s inebriated. 

And while you stood in the doorway, he continued to traipse past you, body lopsided and shaky. He was being very careful to not bump into you again, turning his body in odd ways. 

When you turned to observe him, as he made it past you, you noticed that in the process of trying to steer clear of you, he was losing his balance – quite quickly. 

So, you did the only thing you could think to do and followed behind him to help however you could. 

He wouldn’t remember it anyway.

When he started putting too much weight on one foot and started tilting a bit too far to the side, you acted on instinct. 

You wrapped your arms around his midsection. 

It proved to be a bit of a feat to keep him upright and on his feet, but you tried your hardest. The man was wonderfully built. . . but solid as a rock.

Has he been working out? You couldn’t help but wonder this as your arms pressed a bit more into his strong abdomen.

You realized that thought process could become a distraction to the task at hand in no time, so you put it to the back of your mind. Instead, you just put all of your concentration into helping him stay on the track he desired. . . . Which happened to be his bedroom. 

While trying to keep him stable, you felt your belly press further into his back. The baby felt safer there, between the two of you. It felt right to be so close. . .

But, again, you focused on the important goal of getting Jake in bed. You just kept him pressed to you the best you could with a baby in the way. Matching his footing from behind, you walked in even step with him. 

Once you were officially at his door, you reached around him to open his door for him. When your hand met the knob and twisted it, he reached forward, placing his hand over yours to open it with you. The gentle action made your skin flame. 

Though, it didn’t last long. You didn’t pause, instead continuing into the room. And the moment you walked into the room, he tapped your arm, presumably to let you know he was okay on his own. So, you tentatively let go. 

Your arms suddenly felt empty, but you didn’t want to overstay your welcome. 

He seemed to be a little better now, sitting down on his bed. He did it with more effort than normally necessary, but he still seemed more capable than he’d been a few minutes ago. 

So, without a word, you went to head out of his room. Right before you could walk out the door, though, you heard him from behind you. 

“Where you going?” He asked sadly, sounding more like a neglected child than a grown man. 

Turning around with a brow raised, you asked the question with your eyes before saying it aloud. “Why? You’re good now, right?”

His eyes zoned out momentarily on your face. You just blamed it on the alcohol, feeling woozy. When he came back to Earth, his eyes met yours. His eyes suddenly seemed much clearer than before. All of the air in your lungs evaporated at the look he was giving you. Desperation was the most fitting word for it. 

“I’m not good without you,” he offered, his eyes darting to his feet almost directly after saying the words. He leaned down to sloppily take off his boots, but still neatly placed them next to his bed after taking them off. 

It was honestly pretty funny to watch. You would’ve been more amused if your mind wasn’t still reeling a bit from his words. You zoned out on his guitar, placed neatly on its stand.

He. is. drunk, y/n, your internal heckler reminded you. Stop overthinking.

But. . . drunk words are honest –.

“Can you help?” Jake asked, sounding desperate while trying to achieve a task.

You looked over at him, finding him standing now and struggling to take off a necklace. Without argument, you left where you’d been standing, dejected and confused, by the doorway, to help him. 

When you made it over to him, you tapped his hands where they struggled with the latch at the nape of his neck. 

“Let me,” you insisted, replacing his hands with yours when he moved them. 

Once the necklace was taken off, you made your way around him to place the jewelry on his bedside table, whose lamp bathed the room in golden light. 

You glanced down at the necklace, running a finger down the face of the medallion. Medusa. That was who was etched into the gold metal. 

“You into Greek mythology right now?” You questioned, peeking over your shoulder at him.

When you did, the sight that beheld you took you by total surprise. Shirtless. Shirt gone. No shirt. Jake, halfway naked. 

“Oh,” you uttered the word in a moan more than anything else. You even felt your jaw drop the slightest bit. You didn’t really think anything of it. You didn’t really care to control your reactions. He wouldn’t remember any of this. You just kept telling yourself that.

And with the way the heat flooded from your head all the way to your chest, blossoming to the pit of your tummy – you didn’t think you could control your reactions. Then, when he absentmindedly adjusted himself in his pants. . . Yep. 

You bit your lip, tucking hair behind your ear. Suddenly, you felt completely out of control of your body. . . Your hormones were calling the shots – they (and Jake) were making you feel unsteady in the best possible way. 

The only downside was: there wasn’t anything you could do about it. Morals stood in the way of your bodies colliding and fucking it out. 

You understood that the Jeep incident had happened. Of-fucking-course — there was no forgetting that shit. But a big part of you also thought it would be best to leave the other night in the Jeep in the past.

It wasn’t fair to anyone involved. Right? 

So. . . You just focused on the present moment. No sex. Just Jake in front of you. Tried to ignore the surge of want for him at seeing half of him bare. 

But goddamn — what a beautifully welcome sight. . . 

His body had changed in the handsomest of ways. His thighs, as you’d noticed recently, were thicker than before. And he was. . . just broader than before. It started at the width of his shoulders, and worked down his abdomen to fill out with toned, tight muscle — his new addition of muscle was thick beneath the surface. There was just more of him altogether. The perfect amount of body for you to touch, kiss, lick. . . . . goddammit.

He still wasn’t looking at you, instead making his way to the laundry hamper across the room. You observed the way the muscle in his back flexed as he walked. The expanse of skin under his shoulder blades — his back was thick with new strength. . .What in the sweet hell? 

When he carefully swiveled on his heel to make his way back to you, after tossing the shirt in the basket, you still didn’t take your eyes from him. Just admired the sight and the fact that watching him could be your own little secret. . . 

A secret not even for Jake to know.

Though, as if on cue, his line of sight connected with yours. And when it did – damn. Your heart hammered hard in your chest. Your breath was trapped in your throat, all of it stolen from you. 

His chocolate eyes, although hazy from alcohol, were so fucking dark. Dark in the same way they’d been in his Jeep last week. 

He looked the same as he had right before you’d bent over his lap. The same way he’d eyed you as you’d been on top of him – licking him, sucking him, touching him. . . 

So, instead of holding his eyes, you decided you had to look away before you made matters any worse than they were at the present moment. 

Awkwardly, you started your next sentence without taking time to think about it. “You good now, Ja–?”

“What was your question?” 

When he interrupted you, you wanted to look back at him. But you didn’t. Not with the way his voice was suddenly much fuller – deeper, raspier. . . 

Coughing to mask any sort of embarrassing action, you tried your best to think back to what you’d asked. You couldn’t even remember. . . oh. Medusa. Pointless question. Didn’t matter.

“It was noth–.”

“I don’t care. Still wanna know.”

“Jake, it seriously doesn’t matt–.”

“Look at me, y/n,” he demanded, daring to be argued with. “Quit acting like we’re strangers.”

God. Your teeth found your lip, biting harder with a deep inhale. You let the plumpness of your bottom lip fall from your teeth with a tight exhale. Your tongue pressed into your cheek, eyebrows knit with frustration, when you peered up at him. 

Fuck it all. This was why you hadn’t let yourself look at him. 

His hungry eyes scanned your body when he got his way. He stood there admiring all of you, but his eyes were zeroed in on your ass, not leaving it.

You looked down to get an idea of what he was looking at. 

And, to your horror, you noticed that the t-shirt had ridden up, completely exposing the bottom curve of your ass cheeks. 

But, you didn’t move to change it. Instead, you decided to just stand there. Let him look. You wanted him to. This wouldn’t even count in the morning when he forgot it all.

You definitely weren’t offended by his staring. Not in the slightest. Just sort of made you nervous where things would lead if he didn’t stop observing the exposed skin.

Diversion. 

“Jake,” you purposefully spoke his name, vying for his attention up top, rather than having his eyes on your ass. 

You got your wish. Sort of. His eyes dragged from your ass to your thighs. . . Only to stop at your tits. Your skin was flushed and your skin was tingling. Your breasts, heavy under his stare and nipples tightly peaked against your oversized shirt. 

Fuck. Your body really was your worst enemy — constantly gave you away. Pregnancy hormones were a pain in the ass. 

So, you did the only thing you could think to do: you watched him watch you. The idea of his eyes burning into you without the ability to control it. . . It was almost too much for you to handle. 

Then, he wet his lips, afterwards biting into his plump bottom lip. You might as well have been naked under his stare, completely at his mercy. 

His gaze stayed consistent on your chest, residing long enough to have you feeling so desperately needy for him. . . but, eventually, his eyes moved up to your face. 

You missed his stare on your body as soon as it was gone.

“You’re so fucking—goddamn,” he breathed, his expression still dazed. But, now it was from more than alcohol. Maybe not from alcohol at all. “Do you know how good you look carrying my baby?”

Your head became a flurried mess at his words, the feeling carrying all the way down to your toes. 

“Jake,” you tried, not sure what else to say besides his name. 

But he didn’t respond with words. No, all he did was walk closer to you, still half-dressed. Seeing so much of his body made you feel so utterly pathetic for him. 

In a split second, before you could even wrap your mind around it, his hands found your waist. A soft, yet firm hold of your body. His eyes were locked on your parted lips, his face slowly leaning in and coming dangerously close to your own. 

And just as he was with you, your eyes found his lips, plush and wet from his tongue gliding over them. So kissable. All you wanted, all you needed, was to feel them collide with yours. To taste him again, to savor the sweetness that you knew to be Jake. 

He was so close that you could smell the bitter remnants of alcohol on his breath. His breath, that felt so warm against your flushed skin. You couldn’t help it as you slowly let yourself lean into him. All too well, you knew how wrong it was. . . Yet, you were having the worst time finding it within yourself to care any longer. 

Amber-brown eyes flicked up to yours, golden flecks glowing from the dim yellow lamp lighting. Your own eyes were wide under your fluttering lashes. 

The drunkenness wasn’t as prevalent in his stare as it had been before. This felt so eerily intimate — like it had happened before. You couldn’t fucking shake the feeling this moment was giving you. The dim lighting. Him so close to you—tempting you. . . 

For some reason, your eyes fluttered down between the two of you to your small, rounded tummy. 

Jake’s lips brushed your forehead with the action, his hand coming to tuck hair behind your ear. 

Your belly—it was nestled so well in the middle of your bodies, brushing up against his firm stomach. Protected.

And then a memory, clear now, came rushing back to you. It was coming out of the shadows, having been foggy and faded, but not anymore. 

The only place to go was your room, your door ajar just enough that it opened easily on its own. Jake had reached a hand behind him to close it gently– not wanting to wake anyone. 

Your lamp, still left on, just as it had been earlier in the evening, shed the perfect amount of golden glow. 

You’d grabbed his face, pulling him away from you momentarily to appreciate his features. Finally out of the dark you could look at him. 

And, God, you loved his face. Everything about it, having been so intricately and delicately created — making the most beautiful man you’d ever laid eyes on.

A quiet smirk had graced Jake’s perfect lips, his eyes tightly locked with yours. 

“What’s the matter?” He’d asked, his hushed, now-sultry voice making your need for him that much more heightened. 

You thought a moment before you answered. 

With all of your feelings for him finally becoming realized in your own mind, there was just so much you felt you needed to say. So much you needed him to know. 

As you’d stared in his sparkling eyes, pupils pure black from the weed and his need for you, the only word your mind could conjure up was love. Over and over again. Not just the word, but the feeling; the new desire for him that went far beyond the purely physical one that you’d tried so hard to convince yourself of. 

But it wasn’t new; it had been clear all along. You’d just shoved it down to the deepest trenches of your mind, only to be discovered by the most skilled explorer. 

There was so much you had wanted to say, but you just couldn’t conjure the proper words. 

You decided your body could do all the talking. It could say more than your voice ever could.

“Nothing,” you’d whispered against his lips as you pulled him in for the deepest kiss you were certain the two of you had ever shared with one another.

You gasped as you looked up at him. The night you’d conceived—.

“Y/n, sweet girl,” Jake’s smoky voice brought your attention back to the situation. You let your body melt into his even more, needing him near. 

The reality of it all suddenly began to set in when his hands, slow and steady in their pace, moved up your waist. Strong hands now moving under your shirt, set in their direction of ascension. They came to a steady stop just beneath the curve of your tender breasts. 

“You know,” he breathed, breath washing over your lips. You blinked up at him, at his mercy. “I wanna do so much more than just hold your pretty tits,” he whispered, his lips brushing ever so lightly against yours. “How do they feel?”

“H-heavy,” you stuttered, shivering against his touch while his thumbs met at your sternum, tracing delicate patterns. 

His palms suddenly dropped from beneath your shirt. You sucked in a breath, whining as your breasts pushed out for more. Your skin begged for his touch, on fire for him. 

Before long, though, his hands came back to their spot over the fabric of the t-shirt this time. 

And, over your shirt, he cupped as much of your chest as he could, keeping you in his hold as he gently massaged. 

Stars. You saw so many stars. 

“But, not—not as sore tonight,” you sighed, settling into his grasp. There were no worries evident to you right now. 

All that mattered was Jake and his searing hot touch.

You felt him smile as close as he was, his lips almost connecting with yours as you fought back every desire to kiss him. “Yeah?”  He whispered again, raspier, while his thumbs lightly grazed your hardened nipples through your shirt, your breath catching in your throat. “What do you need right now, baby?”

The moan that escaped your lips should have been embarrassing. But it wasn’t. Not at all. It fit quite well with the way his fingers continued in their path over your nipples, circling them. He was stealing every bit of air left in your lungs, making your eyes roll back in your head.

“Tell me, baby,” he growled, lips touching yours with each word. 

Closing your eyes and biting your bottom lip, you answered silently. You, Jake. I fucking need you. 

He returned to his grip underneath your breasts, over the shirt still, cradling them so well. . . Your body just fit with his. The touch of his hands cured even the most uncomfortable changes in your body. 

You whined, not able to help the effect he was having on you and your aching body. “Jake, I need–.” Fuck. 

No. This was wrong. He was drunk. Odds were, he wouldn’t remember this. You were the one letting it happen, letting it get much further than it should have. 

“Tell me, y/n,” he repeated, brushing his thumbs once again over your taut nipples with more intent this time as your body began to tremble. “Tell me what I can do for you–.”

“I’m hungry,” you muttered out of nowhere, shaking your head as you effectively interrupted him. You pulled away, getting yourself out of another situation that could turn sticky real fast. (Yes, pun intended.) 

And you really were very hungry. Hadn’t eaten for hours. So, it was the perfect mood killer. 

“O-oh, yeah,” he breathily spoke, eyebrows dipping in just a bit as he dropped his stare. His long hair waved out around his shoulders when he shook his head. The sound of inebriated haziness was evident in his tone still, but you could tell he was quickly coming back to himself. 

And that also terrified you. The moment just now. . . Had that brought him back? You’d seen his eyes brighten when you’d leaned into him. 

He went to move past you, his body nearly meeting yours. You put out a hand, millimeters away from his heaving chest. But you couldn’t touch him yet. Not yet. Had to clear your mind. 

“Want me to make something for you?” He wondered, sounding ready to help even amidst his tipsy state. 

“I can do it,” you assured him with a small sigh and grin. “I’m capable.”

“You sure?”

“More than.” 

Your eyes held one another’s for a heavy minute. He was trying to make sure you were being honest, you could tell. 

You just encouraged him to believe your statement with a little pat to his warm, bare chest. Shit. 

You had to go. Get out of the room. Make some damn food. 

But he was right there. . . 

No. 

You quickly took your hand away before he could do something like hold it there. He didn’t get the chance, thanks to your reflexes. 

Your hands interlocked under your belly as you peeked up at him through your lashes. “I promise. I do things for myself all the time. Please let me.”

“You don’t have to ask for–,” hiccup, the sobriety still not fully present. He held a fist over his mouth, trying to be polite. Your smile met your eyes, so gone for him. . . “For my permission, y/n. Seriously. I just want to help you however I–,” hiccup, his eyes bugged a little. The giggle that came from you couldn’t be stopped. “ I can. Jesus.”

“Go to sleep,” you tried, wracking your brain for the best possible plan for him to feel better. “I’ll be okay.”

“Nah. Not yet. Wanna take a shower first,” he iterated, eyebrows drawn together with the sureness of his plan. “It’ll help.”

“Okay,” you smiled, inhaling a breath before shaking your head and moving to open his door. 

Rather than letting you get it, he raised his arm above your head, holding the door to do the job himself. You watched as he opened it wider, seeing his bicep flex with the action above your head. He’d opened it just enough for you to exit. 

You connected eyes with his, looking at him over your shoulder. 

The grin that lifted your features occurred on its own. Everything he did was making you swoon. The fucker.  

He snickered a bit at you, his teeth coming to show past his pretty lips. Dimples fully present with his knowing smile. “Go eat,” he motioned with his other hand before stepping towards you, planning to exit behind you. “My baby momma needs sustenance.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

About forty-five minutes passed. 

You’d eaten an entire box of macaroni and cheese. The noodles and yellow-y, plastic cheese weren’t making you want to gag anymore. Thank god, because it really was quite delicious. 

Now, to wash your dishes and go to bed.

You’d just heard the shower shut off about ten minutes prior to the moment you heard footsteps approach in the doorway to the kitchen.

Jake. 

“Will you come sleep with me?”

You spun to give him a questioning look from over your shoulder that held a million questions.

“Wh-what?” You stilled your task of washing the bowl you’d had your quick meal of macaroni and cheese in.

But, now, you weren’t thinking of mac and cheese. No, now you were thinking of what he just said.

When you’d looked over your shoulder at him, your eyes stuck naturally on the man standing at the doorway of the kitchen. The gesture that was meant to be quick, definitely turning into a whole-ass Jake Appreciation Fest.  

Just like earlier that evening, there he was. Shocking every nerve in your system. 

Pajama pants, slung low on his hips. . . his handsomely tanned and toned chest, still bare. His wet hair, laying on his pecs, dripping water onto each muscle. The drops of water made their way down his hard nipples, probably chilly from his shower, down his sculpted obliques and solid abdomen. . .

. . . And down, past the waistband of his plaid pajama pants. Your favorite ones. 

The pursuit you took with your line of sight was unstoppable. You had to know if he was wearing them. . . And, to your complete gladness, you saw just enough of an outline of him as he leaned his weight on one foot. . . That was all it took to know. . .

“No, I’m not wearing underwear,” he smugly remarked. 

His tone and words made your heart flutter and your cheeks become the deepest shade of crimson. Fuck. He’d caught you.

Deciding to ignore his little remark, you went back to washing the dish, still being held over the sink. In a much looser grip thanks to his comment. Gripping the dish tighter, you put all of your spinning nerves into washing it properly. You fumbled a little, but hoped he didn’t notice. 

“What did you mean before? About sleeping together?” You tried, working to maintain enough attention on the dish that you wouldn’t drop it against the sink and break the thin Corelle. 

“Just sleep,” he emphasized with a chuckle, sounding more and more like himself the longer he stood there. “Nothing more. Cross my heart.”

“Oh,” you offered lamely, heart thumping a hundred miles an hour in your chest, boobs suddenly aching for. . . Fuck. 

Why was he asking you to simply sleep with him? What the hell? 

God. . .

Should you? Was it a good idea? Well, no. You could answer that. It wasn’t a good idea. At all. 

But. . . should you go lay with him? Maybe fall asleep in his arms. . . Would it help you sleep easier after your short, uneasy rest from earlier in the evening?

Shit.

You knew the answer. Knew the answer very well. Even before EMDR, when the bad dreams would occur, they were always better – tamed, happy, or gone completely – when you slept in the same bed as Jake. 

“Yeah,” you said, not taking any more time to contemplate. “I will.”

“Alright,” he replied, sounding relieved behind you. Why did he sound so happy? Surely it wasn’t that big of a deal to him. He still had alcohol in his system. That explained it. 

 You rinsed the rest of the bubbles from the bowl when you heard him speak up again. 

“Want me to wash it?”

“N-no,” you stuttered nervously and shook your head, focusing on the sudsy dish. “I’ve got it.”

“Okay. You full? Get enough to eat?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he answered, the smile evident in his tone. “Don’t take too long.”

“I won’t,” you reassured, willing your pulse to return to normal. 

And, seconds later, you were hearing his footfalls against the carpet as he made his way back to his room. 

Well. 

Finishing the job of the bowl, – taking much longer than needed – you contemplated. 

You guessed his tone was still a little wavy, but you knew better than to think he was still drunk. 

He definitely wasn’t.

Had the shower helped that much? Had it been the moment in his room? Both combined? 

After the equally clean saucepan was put away in the drawer below the oven, you dragged your feet a bit more as you went to check on Stevie and put some more food in her dish. When her tail swished across your calves, you felt a bit of calmness return to you. 

Your heart was still thrumming in your chest. But you were able to slow your thoughts down enough to feel more at peace as you took notice of yourself in your full-body mirror.

Damn. . .oooo-kay, y/n. . . 

Why did you suddenly feel completely confident in your body? You turned, getting every angle. 

It just felt so great to not doubt your appearance. It was just like last Monday. You could get used to this feeling. 

Your boobs looked fantastic and big under your gray t-shirt, nipples peaked as they most-often were these days. Your ass looked perfectly rounded out from the way it peeked out of your soft shirt. . . And, lifting your t-shirt, you looked at the little bump of your tummy. 

The best addition to the entire look. Your grin was natural as you admired your baby. . .

Your tummy was growing steadily as you still sat on the bigger side of pregnant bellies. Your bump wasn’t a little subtle thing. No, it was an obviously pregnant belly. 

Small, but definitely still noticeable. And it was just cute as hell. 

After rubbing a gentle hand over the expanse of skin on your belly, you pulled your shirt back down over it. 

And with a final fluff of your hair, you grabbed your Stanley from the nightstand before making your way to where you’d find sleep tonight. 

You were just going to get good rest for your baby. It was for the baby. 

That was what you worked to convince yourself of as you walked with quiet purpose to his bedroom. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

“Why did you come home?”

You were laying in his bed. Just like old times. 

Except, in the past, where you would’ve most likely been naked, you were not tonight. 

Everything else though? Same as always.

Your legs were tied into his, looped around his just right, playing footsie with him beneath the covers. Your head rested on his bare chest, your hand underneath your cheek as it laid so perfectly well on his exquisitely strapped pecs.

Oh, also. . . One more thing different than before: the bump. The baby, tucked snugly against his side where you were turned into him. 

It was heaven. That was what it was. 

A yawn emitted from deep in his chest. You knew sleep was finding him faster than you would’ve liked. Naturally, a little yawn found you as well.

Sighing heavily to follow the yawn, you felt his hand that laid above you come to comb through the strands of your hair.  “I don’t like being away from you.”

Your heartbeat was heavy in your ears – did your best to ignore it.

“Was Maya mad?”

“Yeah.”

“Jake,” you scolded, for no reason. You didn’t give two shits about how she felt. But. . . you did care about his happiness – didn’t want to ruin his relationship when it made him feel happy and whole.

“She’ll get over it,” he reassured with another yawn that lifted your cheek with his rising chest. “She was drunker than I was.”

“Are you still drunk?” You pondered aloud with a yawn and a giggle, naturally emitting in his presence. 

But. . . you knew better. Didn’t even have to ask. It just made all of this more understandable if he were to still be drunk. It made this easier to submit to. 

You didn’t know why the prospect of simply laying beside him was harder to come to terms with than having his dick in your mouth. Just like it’d been a week ago. 

Your cheeks heated at the thought. Of its own volition, your thigh came to momentarily graze past his crotch.

“Not really,” he answered, sounding a touch offended that you’d even asked. “Pretty sober now, honestly.”

The more coherent he sounded, the more intimidated you became. . . 

Best to let him find sleep. You’d answer to this in the morning. . . For now, your eyelids were getting heavier and heavier by the moment. 

“I believe you,” you settled with a contented yawn of your own, nestling into his chest. Couldn’t help it. Had to be closer.

You blinked, slower and slower. So sleepy — just felt so right in his arms. His hand came to hold the base of your skull as a thumb traced your head so lightly. 

Goosebumps rose on your skin from his precious gesture. . . It felt so damn incredible. 

“You should,” he iterated, his lips coming to meet the crown of your head, giving you a feather-light kiss. 

And, within a minute, he was lightly snoring. 

It took almost no time at all for you to follow him to slumber. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Just like you would’ve guessed, the bad dreams didn’t come that night. 

. . .Because Jake made everything better. That was just it. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

December 16, 2022 

As you sat in the waiting room, you surveyed him and noticed he wasn’t wearing the Medusa medallion. The newer one you’d noticed on Monday. 

“No Medusa?” You questioned, at a decent enough volume to not disturb the few other mothers and fathers in the waiting room. He flicked his amber-brown gaze over to you, caught in a trance by the beautiful, light decor of the clinic. 

Once he looked at you, his eyebrows only dipped at your words, not understanding. You motioned to his neck with a slight flick of your wrist. “Your Medusa medallion. I noticed it the other night.”

He snorted, lips quirking in a small grin with a shake of his head. “That was a stupid gift I got from Maya’s little sister,” he explained, scratching the back of his head. 

“Jake,” you disciplined his words, but you couldn’t help the tiny giggle that slipped past your lips. It was kind of funny that he found it stupid. 

“What?!” He turned to you, a full smile on his face. You raised a faux disappointed brow at him and he contended that with his next remark, “Okay, yes, I know I shouldn’t call it stupid. Maya said it’s because of her sister’s little crush on me. . . But it was kind of funny that she showed up with it at her birthday party, for one,” he explained, crossing his legs at the knee. “And for two, Medusa? A Greek goddess? Since when is that my primary interest?”

You shrugged at that, a small smile stuck to your features. He was adorable.

He continued on, “For some reason, Maya struggles to differentiate between pirates and mythology. . . and no matter how many times I explain they’re different, she doesn’t catch on to it.” 

He shook his head, tousling a hand through his long, wavy hair as he placed the other hand on his knee. His rings weren’t present today, so you got to truly appreciate the curvatures of his tanned, masculine hands. 

“You should still acknowledge that Maya’s sister’s–what’s her name?”

“Kaia. K-a-i-a. . . Different from Maya’s by two letters. Sound the same, though,” he snickered.

Kaia and Maya. . . so they’re a rhyming name family. For some reason, the thought made you snort a laugh, a grin claiming your lips. 

“I know,” Jake said, a little humorous in his own tone. “Kaia and Maya. Can we agree to not name our kids rhyming names?”

Our kids? As in, more than the one in your belly?

You took note of him and his reaction to his mistake, watched the way his eyes continued scanning the walls of the white and blush waiting room. 

He seemed to not notice his mess up, still going about his business as usual. His foot tapped against the bamboo flooring to the beat of the classic rock radio station playing. 

You decided to ignore his words. It had been a slip up. Just like your own slip up in the car the other day. 

You, speaking of love. 

Jake, mentioning multiple kids. 

You both were just in a state of stress with the life change. . . it wasn’t anything. Just a couple mis-worded moments.

You continued on, looking down at your belly briefly, smoothing your hands down your sweater to flatten any weird lines. “. . .Kaia’s sentiment was kind. Her little crush is sweet,” you iterated, sounding more like a mom everyday. “I hope you told her thank you.”

He chuckled, raspy and light, at you. Switching your line of sight up to him, you saw his eyes read a sense of fondness as he cast his gaze on you. 

“I did,” he smirked, winking at you. Your tummy fluttered with butterflies. “You are going to be a fantastic mom, y/n. I’ve known it for a long time and I know it more and more with your little coaching moments.”

Your heart went crazy at the thought of him imagining you as a fantastic mother. And he’d known it for a long time? How long? What did that mean? 

“Thanks, Jake,” you blushed a light pink, matching the colors of the crepe walls. There was one more thing you wanted to say though. 

“However,” you cleared your throat, glancing at him momentarily from the corner of your eye. He was heeding you, brow arched as he waited for your next words. 

“I can’t say anything to excuse Maya’s non-acknowledgment at the obvious contrasts of pirates and mythology. They are two completely different beasts,” you emphasized, turning your full attention to him. He was still watching you. The flush was back in your cheeks. “I’ve seen enough of your documentaries about pirates and I’m an English major, for God’s sake. . . so I know these things.”

The way his features brightened was precious – like he was being seen. 

And he was seen. He would always be seen if you had anything to say about it. 

Also, you did know the difference, you weren’t lying. None of what you said was a lie. You’d said what you did because you needed him to know that you understood. His interests mattered to you and they should to Maya as well. They should matter to her more-so. 

The moment was cut off quite quickly, though, as you were hearing your name being called to the back for your appointment. 

You were about to see your baby again. With Jake. And you’d know by the end of the hour if it was a boy or girl. . . 

The blood was pumping in your ears as Jake fell in step beside you on the way to the back. You smiled up at him, where you were met with his sparkling eyes. Both of you were obviously giddy with eagerness and excitement. 

Your thoughts were filled with everything that was to come. All sunshine and pale colors – so much love.

Here we go. . .

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: ...i wonder if you can guess the name/gender after this chapter part... ;) see you soon (next part is almost finished, my loves) :) feel free to always come to my ask box or message box! i'm always down to talk when my adhd/anxiety doesn't attack me <3

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[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 55

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 7k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Wednesday, February 17; 9:15 AM - Ski Resort

I still find it hard to believe what we're about to do today. The days are passing, and we're already halfway through our trip. Me, a sun-loving girl who's only ever been to beaches, is now discovering a ski resort for the first time. Ever since I heard the news, I've had a lump in my throat. I just can't wrap my head around it.

“Do you think I’ll be able to do it?” Mapi asks me, standing by my side.

I take a deep breath. Thankfully, in the worst scenarios, my best friend is always there to face things with me.

"It’s up to you to feel it. Are you still in a lot of pain?” I ask, referring to her leg.

“It depends on the day... I hope it’ll be okay.”

“Have you talked to Ingrid about it?”

“Yeah, we had a chance to talk. She knows I don’t like to bring it up, but she knows what happened.”

“Then you don’t need to worry. I’m sure she’ll be careful.”

“You think so?”

“Of course,” I say with a smile. “From what I’ve seen these past few days, she seems attentive to you. I have no doubt she’ll know when to stop you if you push too hard.”

“Blah, blah, blah.”

We laugh, fully aware that this is exactly what will happen. Mapi loves challenges, and once she’s conquered them, she tends to not want to stop. I understand her fear, though. Skiing puts a lot of strain on your legs. She’ll likely feel pain at some point, even with the effective treatment she’s been on for years. Skiing... Just thinking about it gives me goosebumps. I’m not at all comfortable with this idea, especially after our last two nights. The waitress Aitana flirted with invited us to some private parties. The first one was quite wild for some, and we got back late. We didn’t want to do much the next day. Most of us stayed at the hotel to relax, while the two other couples and I preferred to head back into town. We went out again last night, but it was much more low-key. The girls didn’t want to waste another day doing nothing. They had used their day at the hotel to look into things to do. The ski resort was their top recommendation. When they suggested it to us, I was the only one not very enthusiastic. I tend to enjoy walking in the snow in different ways, but I realize that’s not everyone’s preference. The girls were starting to lose patience and really wanted to do something more dynamic. This activity was definitely a lot more energetic than the previous ones. The weather was on our side, with the snow having stopped today, so it was the perfect time to plan sledding and skiing. The last time I was in a place like this, I must have been six years old. My mom wasn’t a fan of mountain vacations, being someone who had always lived in the sun. We went once thanks to my dad, who granted my wish. Those were the most memorable holidays for me because it was the first time I ever went sledding. However, I never skied, and the same goes for Mapi, who, unlike me, is seeing snow for the first time after her first visit to Manchester. We were supposed to go sledding this morning, but because of our little handicap, our girlfriends, who are currently ahead of us, decided to change the plan for the four of us. Since Mapi hadn’t changed her behavior, I thought it was a good opportunity for just the two of us. I needed to talk to her. I could sense something was bothering her, and I didn’t like it. I tried sending Alexia in my place, but she couldn’t get much out of her. Either Mapi didn’t understand her intention, or I was really imagining things, which I doubt.

“So, can I ask you a question?” she starts again. “But you won’t take it the wrong way, right?”

“Why would I take it the wrong way?”

“It’s about Lucy.”

The mention catches me off guard. Is she trying to talk about it? The timing couldn’t be better. At least we can clear the air before today’s activities because we both know there’s some tension.

“I’m listening.”

“Promise me you won’t take it the wrong way?” she insists.

“Mapi, we’ve always told each other everything up until now. Why would you be afraid of my reaction?”

She sighs, letting her shoulders relax. Her behavior towards me over the past two days remains a mystery. The way she kept pulling me away from Lucy left me puzzled and annoyed. I started wondering if she had a problem with her, and now I’m starting to believe it more and more. I hope it’s nothing serious. I don’t particularly want them to stop talking, or worse, have to choose between the two.

“So why didn’t you come talk to me yourself? You sent Alexia, didn’t you? I’m not that clueless.”

I bite my lip, caught off guard. Alexia had warned me that it would be better if I went myself, but I didn’t listen. Now, I’m already regretting that bad decision.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, you’re right.”

“So, you really sent her?”

“I could tell you were on edge. I was afraid it would get worse if I came first.”

We look at each other for a moment, then laugh together. We both feel a bit silly, I think. There’s good reason for it. We’ve never been afraid to tell each other things. That’s what I’ve always loved about Mapi. Even if we knew it wouldn’t please the other, we’ve always been honest.

“Sorry, I was really nervous about bringing it up.”

“You didn’t need to be,” I sigh. “So... it’s about Lucy, right?”

“Yeah, um...” she starts, suddenly feeling awkward. “I don’t really know how to say this. First, does she still hold a grudge against me?”

“What?” I frown. “No! Why would she have something against you?”

I look at my girlfriend who’s ahead of us with Ingrid. We’ve slowed down our walk since we started talking, creating a bigger gap than before. They’re both in an animated conversation, laughing from time to time. I think about all the ways Lucy could have made her think that, but nothing comes to mind. She did give her a bit of a hard look the day she pulled me away from her during the walk, but that passed quickly when she found it amusing that I was angrier than she was. Anyway, since we’ve been together, it’s different. She no longer sees Mapi as a threat, but simply as someone very important to me.

“Well, I don’t know... I felt like she was giving me dirty looks last time. Sorry, I might be imagining things.”

“Lucy has no problem with you, I assure you. She really likes you and knows what you mean to me. If it were otherwise, she would have told me, and I would have fixed things.”

“Okay...” she murmurs. “You love her, don’t you? I’ve never seen you so attached to someone like her.”

I breathe softly. Oh yes, I love her, and I spend all my time glued to her. I was never that person before, but she made me this way. In none of my previous relationships did I seek physical contact as I do now.

“Does it bother you?”

She looks at me for a moment. I can see the internal struggle she’s having. She doesn’t know how to respond, and it’s all the more unsettling. I give her a friendly nudge.

“Come on, spill it. We’re talking about it for a reason, after all.”

“I was very surprised,” she begins. “I think your Valentine’s Day made me jealous. Not romantically. Ingrid is wonderful to me, and I appreciate her more and more each day,” she quickly justifies. “But in terms of us, our relationship, our friendship...”

Now that she says it, it’s true that after I shared everything we did, her behavior changed. I frown at this realization. Without saying anything, she continues.

“I never knew how to give you the same things she does. Just look at the day you spent together. It’s obvious she thought of you first in her plans. I’ve never been able to do that for you. Not even for a day.”

“Mapi—”

“I know our relationship is different from yours. It was powerful in another way, and it was during another period. We were younger and a bit more carefree. But what she’s done with you in just a few months is just... impressive. She’s transformed you, and I feel lousy for not being able to give you the same support and help you grow like she has.”

Regret, remorse. That’s all I hear in her words, and now it’s my turn to feel bad. How did she get to the point of feeling so worthless? She doesn’t even realize how much she’s helped me. Her return after Feli sparked a lot of progress that she doesn’t seem to have noticed. I release my lip from between my teeth and reply without thinking.

“You have nothing to blame yourself for. You’re the one who gave me the most support before I joined this school. You did the hardest part by getting me out of my room.”

I smile just remembering it. She had to drag me, but she did it, and she stayed with me the whole time. It was her, and no one else, who accomplished that feat.

"I have to admit, being away from my problems was the best idea my mom ever had. You’ve never set foot in my school, but we all have our problems, often similar, sometimes completely different."

Korbin's situation comes to mind. She just never had the chance to grow up in a stable environment, which led to her circumstances. Just thinking about it makes me sick.

"I'm not saying you can't understand, but they teach us to open up, to trust each other. Like with Alexia, you know? We’ve confided in each other about our issues. Plus, we're also guided. Especially by Lucy, in my case, but not just her. It’s a collective thing, you see? It's not just Lucy who helped me evolve, as you said."

"And in all this, what happens to me?"

"What do you mean, what happens to you?" I teased. "You’re still my best friend, no matter what. Nothing will change that. Neither new friendships nor our new relationships. We’re still us."

"Good, I’m relieved," she said, clearly feeling better. "Because I’ve applied for a transfer for next year."

"Really?" I said, excited.

She had mentioned wanting to follow me, but hadn’t said what she was planning. Knowing she’ll be here next year makes me really happy. Even though the school keeps me busy, I miss her a lot.

"Of course! You’re not getting rid of me that easily," she giggled. "My teacher said there shouldn’t be any problem. The school in Manchester has a better reputation, but with my good grades, I should get accepted. He even said it would be better for me."

"That’s awesome!"

I hugged her tightly. She doesn’t have an official response yet, but I’m confident it will work out. Mapi is a very diligent student, even if it doesn’t always seem that way. After all, she’s doing what she loves.

"I’m really happy, honestly."

"Can I confess something else while we’re at it?" she asked, pulling away from my embrace. "But you won’t take it the wrong way, right?"

"What now?" I asked, holding back a small laugh.

"I used to wonder if Lucy would be enough for you," she admitted, making me frown. "That was before you were together. I thought she was too calm and too sensible. Not to mention she didn’t seem to enjoy parties. You just have to see how she reacted to last night’s party agai—"

"She wasn’t feeling well yesterday," I defended her immediately. "She had a migraine, and the party wasn’t the best for her, but she still wanted to come."

"Whatever," she said, waving her hand as if it didn’t matter. "That’s not the point, it was just an example. I thought she’d be boring for you in the long run. I talked about it with Ingrid before you were together, and she got mad, saying I didn’t know Lucy. And I have to admit, she was right."

Her last sentence brought me instant relief. I was already worried she might say she no longer saw me with Lucy, which would have been strange since she’s the one who kind of pushed us together.

"So, you’ve changed your mind?" I asked hesitantly, making her shrug.

"I have to admit she knows how to handle you," she replied with a small smile that made me laugh. "That’s all that matters, and if you’re happy with her, that’s what’s important."

"I am. She’s really sweet and adorable. I didn’t expect that either."

"Oh, really?" she said, surprised.

"Well, yeah… She’s always been caring towards me, but I found her so closed off before that I didn’t know what to expect if she ever opened up."

"I see… So how is it?"

"It’s really great. She’s confided in me little by little, but now, she’s so open that I can see her expressions, you know? That wasn’t the case before."

"Hmm, hmm," she smiled. "Are you sure it’s not you who finally opened your eyes to how she feels?"

"Of course not," I replied, gently hitting her arm, making her laugh.

"I’m telling you, Ona. She was already smitten the first time I saw her interact with you. I even told Lucy. You were just too oblivious to notice."

I blushed just thinking about it. We really were blind, according to our friends.

"Maybe you’re right… We’re together now," I said pensively. "You know, I wanted to use this vacation to get closer to her. I was really scared of my reactions when starting a new relationship," I confessed to her.

"You haven’t slept together yet, have you?"

"No," I grimaced. "Do you think Lucy will be patient with that? I’m worried."

"Yeah, don’t worry. Knowing her, she has the patience of a saint. If she needs it, I bet she’ll let you know."

"If you say so… Anyway, don’t scare me like that again. I really need your positive opinion, and you know that, right?"

"I know, yeah," she smiled. "And you have it. She even managed to make me jealous, and that’s saying something."

I chuckled, shaking my head. At least she’s not afraid to admit it. Others would have denied it. Not her, and I love that about her.

"And you, with Ingrid?" I changed the subject.

"She’s great, really," she answered instantly, clearly expecting the question. "Much better than Ana. She’s cool, we laugh a lot, and she’s laid back. Oh, and also, in bed, she’s pretty good."

"Oh, Maps, please, spare me the details."

"What? You don’t want to know?"

"No, thanks," I grimaced.

"Are you sure?"

She laughed, fully aware that this is one of the few topics we can’t discuss. I’m not prudish, but I’d rather not know what my ex does with her new girlfriends. Talking about it makes me feel like we’re back in the past, and I’d rather avoid that. After this little laugh, we both sighed softly. We really needed this conversation to clear the air.

"Looks like our wild nights are over now."

"Seems like it, yeah," I chuckled.

"I think I’m a bit scared of this new change, you know, becoming an adult, having responsibilities. Ingrid even says I often act like a child," she laughed, making me smile.

I put my arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to me. She rested her head on my shoulder, accepting my embrace.

"We’ll do it together, don’t worry. Never one without the other."

She nodded and kissed my cheek afterward, making me smile. All she needed was reassurance. I regret letting things get to the point where she felt neglected and unheard. I’ll have to figure out how to balance things better in the future. I’ve already hurt her enough in the past, I don’t need to add anything else.

"I guess I owe Lucy an apology now."

"Oh, it’s not necessary."

"It is. Knowing you, you’ll tell her everything, so I might as well do it myself," she replied.

I laughed because she’s so right. I can’t hide anything from Lucy. Especially since she’s been glancing over at us, and I imagine she’ll have questions for me.

"And I’ll have to thank her too," Mapi said, drawing my attention back to her.

"For what?"

"Thanks to you two, I met Ingrid," she answered with a small smile. "We exchanged numbers to talk about you mainly, but we hit it off so well that we got closer. So, thank you too."

"It’s my pleasure if we helped you. Your happiness is important to me, you know that. Now that everything’s clear, how about a hug?"

"Damn right, I’ve been waiting for that."

I laughed as I barely had time to catch her in my arms for a tight embrace. I missed her touch. Mapi will always be the first person who helped me out of that dark place. She’s indispensable to me, and she should know that. I closed my eyes, savoring this moment that I had missed. It’s different from being with Lucy, but just as familiar.

"Come on, we should catch up with them before they start wondering where we are."

Now that she mentioned it, I realized we couldn’t see our girlfriends anymore. Instead, a small wooden cabin stood before us. I easily guessed it was the chalet where we were supposed to pick up our gear, thanks to the sign. I nodded and let her go in first. Our girlfriends were in line, so we joined them.

- "Well, what took you so long, girls?" Ingrid asked as we approached.

- "Sorry, we were just talking," Mapi explained as she pulled away from me to enjoy a hug from her girlfriend.

I nestled into Lucy's embrace, just as Mapi did with Ingrid. Lucy's expression was full of curiosity after I stole a kiss. I snuggled into her neck and whispered:

- "I'll explain later."

My answer seemed to satisfy her because she hugged me tightly and kissed my temple. I smiled as I watched the other couple interact. It was clear who was in charge between them, and it was a bit surprising. Normally, Mapi was the one who took control, but not in Ingrid's arms, it seemed. Given Ingrid's playful nature, I hadn’t expected her to take on that role.

- "When will you tell me?"

I turned my attention back to Lucy. It was only then that I noticed her impatience, which made me smile.

- "Be patient. You'll know everything tonight, I promise."

- "Hmm... Okay," she said, pouting adorably, which made me smile.

It was funny how eager she was to know. Since I’d become better at reading her expressions, I’d discovered many traits I hadn’t known about before. Curiosity was one of them. I admired her so much for being able to hide it and not bombard me with questions. That's probably what I would have done in her place, but she knew that would have made me run. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it. With these thoughts in mind, I stood on my tiptoes to kiss her again, hoping it would satisfy her for now. I could tell she was frustrated about not knowing our conversation, but I didn’t want to discuss it in front of the girls. It seemed my idea worked because she returned my kiss with a hidden smile.

- "It’s our turn," Ingrid pointed out.

We noticed she was right as we turned to the counter.

- "Can you help me pick out my equipment?" I asked Lucy. "I don’t really know what I’m doing."

- "Of course."

We walked forward with her hand resting on my waist. The receptionist handed us our gear based on Lucy’s instructions. I didn’t know anything about this, so I trusted her judgment.

- "Can’t we snowboard instead of skiing?" I asked when I saw a snowboard nearby.

- "Learn to ski first, will you?" she chuckled. "Snowboarding is much harder."

- "Really? But it’s just one board under your feet."

- "Exactly," she laughed. "It’s much harder to balance and stay on your feet. We’ll try it someday when you’ve mastered skiing."

- "So that means we’ll come back?"

- "We’ll go wherever you want, whenever you want, and as many times as you want, sweetheart."

I bit my lip at how affectionate she was becoming day by day. She had never been this sweet with me before. The tough, relentless Lucy was long gone, and I couldn’t even say which version I preferred now. I felt more and more important in her eyes, and that’s all I ever wanted.

- "Come on, let’s get going," she pulled me out of my daydream.

We thanked the man for his service, and the four of us headed outside with our equipment. We found a bench where we could sit and put on our skis. Aside from my grumbling, it was a pretty quiet moment. Lucy had a teasing smile as she watched me struggle. I had just managed to put on the boots she had chosen for me. I was surprised that she had picked the right size without even asking.

- "You could help instead of just laughing at me."

- "Of course," she said, her smile widening. "Since you asked so nicely."

- "Hey!" I protested, pouting.

- "I’m kidding."

As if she’d been doing this her whole life, she effortlessly got up and crouched down in front of me. She started by tightening the straps on my boots, which apparently weren’t tight enough for her. Then she placed the skis flat on the ground, and I finally understood the system when she positioned the tip of my foot in front of the clips. She then asked me to press down with my heel, and I heard my boot click into the ski. I did the same with the other one. At first, the sensation of having something under my feet was very strange, especially when I tried to slide them back and forth. The real fun was about to start. We exchanged a smile, as if she was thinking the same thing as I was when she stood up. She pecked my lips and held out her hands.

- "Come on, princess. It’s time to stand up."

- "Oh my God," I murmured as I wobbled the moment she pulled me to my feet.

The feeling was very weird. I probably would have slipped if Lucy hadn’t been holding me in her strong arms. She chuckled, gently pulling me closer. I regretted having such a bulky jacket on because I couldn’t feel her touch on my skin.

- "Okay... So what now?"

- "I’m going to let go and grab your poles."

- "And if I fall?"

- "You won’t fall," she laughed.

To make sure of it, she kept one arm around my waist as she moved to grab our poles. Once she had them, she let go of me and stood beside me. I glanced over at the girls who were watching us.

- "Okay," I said, taking a deep breath. "And now?"

- "Now we move forward."

I blinked as I saw Mapi following Ingrid. It was like she had been doing this forever. I parted my lips and looked at Lucy, who was laughing at me.

- "H-how did she do that?"

Lucy burst into laughter, which annoyed me. I had a feeling I’d be the last one today, and I hated that.

- "It’s not hard. It’s like walking. Just take small steps. It’ll help you get used to the skis and work on your balance. Then we’ll start sliding."

- "I’m suddenly not feeling so confident..."

- "Hey, it’ll be okay, alright? There will be falls and probably a lot of bruises tonight, but you’ll be fine. I’ll help you, and I won’t let you leave until you’ve made at least one descent."

- "Oh my God..." I muttered. "And what if I’m sore tonight?"

- "I have a little solution for that... But it’ll be up to you to decide when the time comes."

- "When you say things like that, it’s usually something I won’t like..."

- "Who knows... You’ll tell me tonight."

Wednesday, February 17th, 8:30 PM - Hotel Room.

All day, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Lucy’s suggestion would be. I turned it over in my mind a thousand times, hoping that in the end, it would be the jacuzzi we’d go to. As I had predicted, all my muscles were sore from this simultaneously disastrous and rewarding day. If I learned anything today, it’s that I’m a walking disaster. Though that’s not new, I was really bad at skiing. Once again, Lucy showed incredible patience with me. Unlike me, Mapi picked it up quickly. She’s always been more athletic and daring than me, so it wasn’t surprising. Lucy didn’t mind that we stayed at the bottom of the slope all day, while the girls and the rest of our friends who joined us after lunch went up to do runs. I think Lucy was happy we could spend some time together, uninterrupted for once. When we got back, I expected her to announce her idea right away, but she wanted us to have dinner with our friends first. It made me feel confused and reluctant, knowing that the pool had a closing time and would probably be closed by the time we were done. I was slightly disappointed since I had been dreaming about it all day, but now that I’m facing her real proposal, I don’t know how to react. I agreed, of course, but that didn’t make me any less nervous.

- "Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, I’d understand if you didn’t, you know. We’ve only been together for two weeks, and then-"

- "Luce, I told you I wanted to do it. Are you sure you haven’t changed your mind?" I half-joked.

The panic in her eyes disappeared for a moment, replaced by tenderness.

- "I haven’t. It’s just that I don’t want you to be scared or think I’m rushing things."

"We’re in swimsuits. What am I supposed to be scared of? We’ve already been in the pool, in a jacuzzi, and even in a spa. It’s not a bubble bath we’re going to take in swimsuits that’s going to scare me. »

- It's smaller, more intimate, and... private.

- That's what makes it even more romantic, right? I want us to spend some time together, just the two of us. For once, we actually have the time.

She giggles as she turns off the water that had been running until now when he gets halfway to the bathtub. To be honest, I'm in total panic inside. I can't even explain why. Lucy is everything you could want in a girlfriend. She didn't run away when I told her that I had isolated myself from the world for half a year. On the contrary, she wanted to prove to me that I'm no longer alone. Maybe it's because I know that this situation will bring us to an even deeper stage in our relationship. I push the thought away and speak.

- You getting in first? I murmur.

She nods softly, stepping one foot at a time into the tub. My eyes don't leave her for a second as she sits at the back of the tub. I hesitate for a moment, but her reassuring smile tells me I have nothing to fear. She's the only person I've never been afraid of, at least not in the context of a relationship. Of course, I fear her when she's in a black rage, especially at me, but never otherwise. I return her smile and join her. Instead of leaning my back against hers, I decide to snuggle up against her side. My tension quickly evaporates as my sore muscles relax and Lucy runs a hand through my hair, wrapping her other arm around me. The water is boiling hot, but there's nothing better after this cold day. She kisses my forehead with a satisfied sigh.

- Here we are, in this bath.

I giggle, burying my head in her neck. She had been dreaming about this, and now I finally understand why.

- Have you been dreaming of this moment all day too?

- You could say that... Did you know I wanted to do this?

- No, not the bath, I admit. But now that we're here, it was a very good idea.

And I mean it. The steam rising from the bath creates a strange atmosphere in the room. From where I'm sitting, I can see the mirror, which fogged up in no time. When I look down at the bath, I'm glad to see that the bubbles cover my bruised body.

- Do you know why Mapi's been acting weird lately? I start the conversation with a hint of amusement in my voice.

I break the silence now that we're alone, in the calm. Lucy hums slightly at my question.

- So there was a reason?

- In a way, yes...

I lift my head to meet her eyes with furrowed brows. I smile, finding her adorable like this. She always makes that face when something bothers her or when she doesn't understand what's going on.

- Hmm... So... What was the reason?

- Lots of things... Jealousy, worry, doubts...

- In what way? she asks, skeptical. She thinks I wouldn't take good care of you?

- No, that's not it.

I smile in amusement, detecting impatience in her movements. She knows Mapi's opinion matters to me. Just to tease her a little longer, I reluctantly get up to straddle her. She removes her hands from me, placing them on the edge of the tub while watching me with confusion. I lose track of our conversation, mesmerized by the beauty in front of me. The setting really enhances Lucy. My fingers trace her exposed neck. She had pulled her hair into a messy bun right after our meal. She wanted to be comfortable. I appreciate seeing her so natural. I might not be the first to see her like this, but at least I'm the first among the students at Camp Wiegman. So, she's no longer the terrifying instructor everyone fears. She's just my girlfriend, who grants me the privilege of seeing her true self. Our evenings alone are my favorite moments so far, even though I've also enjoyed the parties. She seems almost innocent and harmless, which is far from the case at school. I almost dread the moment we have to go back. I don't know how she'll react, nor how I'll react. We'll resume our roles, and I won't be able to enjoy her company in her room as I'll have to return to mine. 

- What are you thinking about, looking at me so sadly?

My eyes, which were focused on her mouth where my fingers are now, rise to meet hers. Her excitement has faded into concern. I feel guilty for making her worry, just because my thoughts, which were positive before getting in the bath, suddenly veered to a darker side. It was stronger than me. The idea that we might not be able to live this normally anymore doesn't sit well with me. Especially not after the amazing week we've been having.

- Did I do something wrong? she asks, making me shake my head. Did Mapi say something she shouldn't have? she continues.

I shake my head again. Words fail me, preventing me from defending against things she might believe because of my silence. Unable to find the words, I lean in to kiss her. Hard. Though slightly hesitant, she kisses me back, her hands gently caressing my waist. I seek even more contact, but she stops me.

- Hey, hey, stop. I get that this environment can give ideas, but that's not the point of this evening.

Her words cool my ardor, and I blush, realizing what I've just done. How could I have gone so far with just one fleeting thought?

- S-sorry... I-I didn't mean to. I-I don't know what came over me.

- It's okay, really, she giggles. What were you thinking about to get carried away like that, hmm? You were looking at me with adoration before suddenly closing off.

- I'm afraid of not handling our return to school well.

Lucy arches an eyebrow in confusion. It's understandable. I'm jumping from one topic to another without any reason.

- Did Mapi mess with your head? she deduces, still unsure of what's going on.

- No! I quickly reply. Mapi just needed comfort. She was jealous that she couldn't comfort me the way you do.

- Oh. I didn't see that coming... I thought I was the problem.

- No. She just felt neglected. We've drifted apart because of the distance, but it'll be okay. And...

I pause for a moment, unsure if I should continue.

- And?

- Will you promise not to hold it against her? I ask, nervously biting my lip.

- Why would I hold it against her?

- Because I'm not sure you'll appreciate what she thought of you at first...

- Go on, she mumbles, her mood shifting.

I bite my lip again. I know I'm taking a risk, but I can't afford to stay silent. I promised myself to be honest with her.

- I think she still saw us as the teens we were, because she thought you were too calm and reasonable for me.

I watch her closely as I say all this. Her reaction is strange. It's as if she's suppressing her feelings again.

- If you say that's what she thinks, then I guess that's not how you feel?

Of course not. How many times do I have to tell you? You're everything I need, Lucy. Mapi understands that now. Especially after the Valentine's Day you planned for me. She's planning to apologize to you because she knows I would tell you. If there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that I don't care about playing the reckless teenager anymore.

- OK... she murmurs. Thank you for being honest. I'll wait for Mapi's apology.

The tone of her voice isn't as cold as I expected. I understand that she doesn’t hold it against her. After all, she didn’t like her much at first either. If she says this, it's probably because she’ll use the opportunity to talk with her face-to-face.

- Thank you, I whispered at the thought. Thank you for everything.

- I love you.

My muscles relax at these simple words, which have become part of our daily routine. Lucy had promised to show me how much I mean to her, and for the past three days, that's all she’s done. I feel so loved, especially after struggling for so long to love myself.

- Say it again, please.

- I love you, my love.

This time, there’s a hint of amusement in her voice, but it doesn’t lessen the impact. She pulls me closer, returning us to our original position.

- Everything will be okay, alright? We'll figure things out. I’ll take care of us. But you, I want you to prioritize your future.

- You are my future, I murmured.

- I mean professionally, my love. I’ll take care of you like I promised, and I’ll handle our other relationships, like with Mapi if needed, but you have to focus on your studies first. Is that clear? Can you do that? It’s not that hard, right?

- No... It isn’t, as long as you’re by my side.

- I will be, no matter what. And how about we just enjoy our moment for once, hmm? You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.

- No, I don’t, but I understand why now. I wanted to thank you for being so patient with me. These past few days have been magical. I haven’t felt this at peace in someone’s arms in a long time.

- That’s all that matters then. That’s how I want you to feel with me. Not scared, or anxious, or lacking confidence, or uncomfortable... Just yourself.

- I am, I murmured. You’re the one who helped rebuild me. You’re probably the person I trust the most.

I take a deep breath at that thought. It’s frightening to depend so much on one person. But that’s my reality. I truly depend on Lucy. We both know that if she’s no longer in my life, I might spiral even worse than before. It happened once, and it wasn’t pretty. I could barely sleep at night or eat during meals, and it will happen again if she ever leaves me. I know that’s unlikely now, but even a one percent chance is terrifying.

- I don’t want to go back, I confided. You make me feel like I’m living a dream.

- I assure you, your dream is real, she teased. You’ll have to get used to living this peacefully.

- You have no idea how right you are, I murmured, snuggling even closer to her.

I close my eyes with a small, satisfied smile spreading across my lips. Yeah, I could easily get used to this new way of life.

- If Mapi kept us apart during our outings, it’s because she missed me, but also because she was seeking my attention out of fear that I’d leave her behind...

- I see, she sighed. There were other ways she could have shown it. Like, for example, talking to you about it.

- She knows she acted poorly, but my distance from her and my closeness to you affected her. She regrets it. In fact, we shouldn’t have involved everyone in this. I should’ve talked to her directly. I almost thought she had a fight with Ingrid.

- She didn’t, don’t worry. Ingrid mentioned it briefly at lunch, she reassured me.

A small sigh of relief escaped me. The last thing we need is for our little issues to affect their relationship.

- So, everything’s settled now? She’s going to leave us alone for the rest of the trip?

- I’ll make sure of it, I giggled.

- Good... So, back to you. Why do you understand how she feels?

- Because I’m afraid of our return to school...

- Babe, she sighed. We’ve already talked about this.

[leahrintarou]

☠︎︎ DAY TWELVE: MARKING FT. IWAIZUMI

☠︎︎ WARNINGS: y/n is a tease, jealous iwaizumi, hickey giving lol, they're roommates

☠︎︎ WORD COUNT: 950+

"y/n" he called from his seating on the living room's sofa. she hummed in response, acknowledging his call for her attention. "can i talk to you for a second?"

she was confused but curious at the same time. her long term roommate wasn't the kind of person to request her attention in such a confrontational tone. "yeah sure, let me put my bags away first"

he hesitantly nodded, aware to the fact that she'd just returned back to their home and needed to put away her newly purchased belongings. he listened to the sounds of her steps slowly fading off in the direction of her bedroom.

three minutes..

six minutes..

eight minutes..

iwaizumi was getting impatint as time passed by, causing him to get up from his seat on the sofa. he walked down the hallway and into y/ n's room, seeing the door slightly cracked open. he knocked a couple times, slightly pushing the door open when he heard y/n's hum of approval.

expecting to see her just putting away her purchases, she was instead trying them on. he'd have no problem with that if it weren't for the fact that the purchased items were lingerie sets.

"I'll stop by tomorrow" she said, catching iwaizumi's attention. she had her phone held to her ear, holding a conversation with what seemed to be a close friend of hers. y/n turned around, glancing up at iwaizumi to see what it was that he wanted. she noticed his flustered expression, before informing the person that she would talk to them another time, eventually ending the shared call.

"what do you think? i was just about to call you since i wanted your opinion on it" she smiled tossing her phone onto her bed. "who was that?" he questioned, noticing how y/n fumbled with the laced fabric of her top. "kuroo. why?" he reached for y/n's wrist, pulling her figure closer to himself before speaking.

"i told you i wanted to talk to you about something" he reminded her of his words, noticing the apologetic look that unknowingly formed on y/n's once calmed expression. "oh my gosh. i fucking forgot, i'm sorry. what was it that you needed?"

he sighed, eyes leaving her own gaze before actually taking in their current state. their lips were practically in reach of the others, the only thing covering y/n being the sheer fabric of laced detailed lingerie. "you don't feel guilty of wearing something like that while on the phone with a friend?"

she smiled shaking her head before moving away from his figure to take a seat on the edge of her bed. "at least i wasn't naked" she mumbled before laying on her back. iwaizumi couldn't help but admire her figure. she looked so vulnerable at the moment. he sensed y/n's own gaze before lazily looking up to catch it.

"are you jealous?" she questions, staring up at the ceiling to voice her words properly, trying not to get caught up in his peering gaze. "there's nothing to be jealous about. i've done the same thing with you too. except, i wasn't wearing this" y/n said, indirectly poking a tease at him.

"then what were you wearing?" he questioned through a stillness toned voice.

she made eye contact with him, smirking before seeing his eyes widening as she focused back onto the detail of the ceiling. iwaizumi walked up closer to y/n before placing a cold palm onto her abdomen. feeling her tense at the unwelcoming touch of low temperature.

he propped himself up by placing a knee in-between y/n's slightly parted thighs, hovering directly over her body, making it harder to avoid his gaze. "why don't you try wearing something else..?"

"like what?"

"they're purple and can cover practically everything on you"

he leaned down, closer to y/n, pressing a kiss onto her lips before slowly trailing down her jaw and to her neck. a breathy sigh escaped from her mouth when she felt felt the warmth of his tongue lap at a sensitive spot that only he knew of.

iwaizumi knew that it was an area that only he knew would drive y/n crazy, making him only use it to his advantage even more. "wanna give kuroo a call back? i'm sure you two weren't done talking"

she shook her head letting out a small whine of a drawn out "no". iwaizumi was satisfied at the prominent bruise that now resided on her neck before admiring the rest of her exposed body, slowly mimicking the same process in what seemed to be like a specified shape.

he smiled taking a glance up at y/n to admire her panting expression, evidence from his abusing pleasure to her chest. he hummed against her skin, feeling her hand thread through his hair when small nibbles were felt against her breast.

iwaizumi moved down lower, slightly letting out a groan when y/n tugged on his hair. she noticed his movements were more controlled and somehow pinpointed in a special patten on her abdomen. he placed a couple small pecks to her abdomen and neck, not missing the chance to pinch at her skin between his teeth.

a whine fell from her lips before he finally leaned back a bit admiring y/n. "what's that smile for?" she questioned though a pant, eye's growing in suspicion before she glanced down at her chest and abdomen.

I.H

he'd specifically marked hickeys in the shape of his initials. iwaizumi reached for y/n's phone before taking a picture of his so called 'masterpiece! "can i?" he questioned, an innocent smile on his lips when y/n rolled her eyes, already knowing what he was asking permission for. she nodded before hearing a familiar sound.

>> sent to tetsuro

[flightyalrighty]

Hi, it's me again, flightyalrighty! (๑•̀ㅁ•́ฅ✧

Anyway, about the whole Sonic versus the Police thing, yknow, punk era Sonic. I don't think Shadow had ever seen that punk side of Sonic? He's more exposed to his heroic side, so will it affect his perception towards Sonic? It's been so long since I've read Archie Sonic and Shadow seems to have little screen time as far as I could remember, I'm just picking up the IDW comics since it's starting to intrigue me. Plus, he was busy trying to destroy or save the world in the games (SonicA2 of his first appearance and with 06 where Sonic keeps running around with the princess from Eggman) to even properly notice Sonic's rebellious spirit. Is your comics going to have some panels about Sonic exposing his hidden distaste towards the authority to Shadow and others(?) I would love to see punk era Sonic in action again ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

Btw, I've seen some clips from TikTok n YouTube of your panels and they intrigued me, glad I managed to find you on Tumblr! Been waiting patiently for your updates ٩( ᐛ )و

Hi! While I've allowed some people to dub my comic on Youtube, I've most certainly not allowed for anyone to post my comic on TikTok, and it sucks to hear about that, though it's unsurprising. Now, on to the question:

I wouldn't necessarily say Shadow got very little screen time in Archie! In the main book, sure, he wouldn't pop up as often as, say, Knuckles (I think?) but the guy did have like six arcs in Sonic Universe (seven if we count Worlds Collide) where he was one of the main characters (or at least showed up a bunch again if we're counting Worlds Collide), and 24-28 issues of Shadow is nothing to sneeze at! That's about a fourth of that series's run if I'm doing my math right!

In the early Flynn days of Archie, he was also showing up seemingly at random. He appeared in issue 160 for seemingly no reason (was he really just there to wish Sonic a happy birthday) iirc, and shows up in that Enerjak Knuckles arc to get his ass kicked, to name two off the top of my head.

Remember, Shadow is the second most popular character in the franchise, and Archie was well aware of this. They were absolutely using him to sell books.

To be honest, though, and now I promise I really am answering your question, I think Shadow's already seen Sonic's rebellious spirit plenty within SA2. Busy destroying the world or not, Sonic was rebelling against him, and he was doing that successfully. That is, I believe a part of what made Sonic so intriguing to Shadow.

Now, at this point in Infested, Shadow considers himself an extension of G.U.N. Sonic rebelling against them is, in a way, rebelling against him once again. That said, it's different now. Sonic wasn't just being annoying and getting in his way, he was wasting time and looking to run off and put more people in danger. His rebellious spirit, the thing that Shadow once found admirable in him, is now a threat to the world he's currently trying to protect.

This version of Shadow, based on Archie Sonic with events from the games as part of the canon, is also willing to believe that whatever mistreatment he takes from the military is justified. He's already done plenty of harm. He knows what he's capable of.

That comment, though, from Sonic. That comment about how those special handcuffs were already built and ready for Shadow. How far in advance did they begin work on that thing? How long had it been in storage, waiting for him? Was it right when he had joined them? After the incident with Black Death and Eclipse? Were those handcuffs born from a cruel pragmatism and paranoia from an organization he'd already sworn total loyalty to, or simply in response to what has already occurred?

This will haunt Shadow.

[slightly-warmer-hibiscus-tea]

My Touchstarved MC / OC time

Because I've been saving it for today^-^

[Warning: long rambling, and possibly no editing]

I have come to the point where I view the main LI's as my side characters to my silly little cannon divergent lore. So everything is completely made up, and also I'm going to rewrite my MCs to fit the actual game when it comes out. so there is my disclaimer before I head off into Lala land.

I've made different MCs based on the three backstories you can choose when you enter the game.

The Alchemist (Naudedel)

Hound (Hound)

Unnamed (Noble)

Each is still cursed but each curse takes on a different form or is gained at a different time along the journey to Eridia.

Noble is the one with the original curse from the game. They corrupt the minds of those they touch. Except on rare occasions...

Hound is a by-product of Nobel's hands. Hound is (till they reach Eridia...) the only one who can touch Nobel without punishment. Though she seems to have still retained her sanity, there is one man who refuses to deny the golden veins running under her skin.

Naudedel was an experiment gone rogue. An attempt to create an artificial God gone wrong. Turning his back on his creator, but still tries to reach for a false heaven on his own.

In my little headcanon world, they are all traveling together as a found family. Hound acts as their guardian, Noble is the oldest, Naudy is the weird middle child, and then there is Cetcher, who is a stand-alone OC who was adopted into their little family.

| And here is a little family photo/reference sheet :D - I'll explain the designs later |

Also, designs aren't finalized completely!! (which is why Hound is missing the prosthetic mentioned below)

The General BackStory: part I

Hound meets Noble when they are around six and takes care of them along with the help of her then-husband Cove. The two worked as mercenaries till taking Noble in as their own. The young couple promised to watch over Noble as they travel to Erida to try and find a cure for their curse. Along the way Hound and Cove hit what they called... a rough patch. Which resulted in Cove severing Hound's leg, not before she could take his good arm. Though Hound can't remember much of their life before that fight. She does know that he is still out there, and looking for them. But a swordsman without his dominant hand isn't much concern for her so she pushes on with the child at her side.

That is when they find Naudedel. The prodigy son of a mage who lived at the top of the hill in the remains of a small standing town. The mage was an older woman, but hospitable to the young mother and her child. She was also very taken by Noble after learning about their infliction. And wanted to help them in their journey to Erida seeing she had ties there from her past. This is where Hound was given her prosthetic, fueled by alchemy and mechanics. Noble took a liking to Naudedel despite his moody disposition and the two (to Naudy's dismay) were stuck at the hip during their stay. However, things didn't stay pleasant for long. As if the air changed in the small town, dire truths flowed with it. Hound and Noble soon learned about the true nature of the boy bound to the hill. The 12th experiment, the 12th body that surprisingly hadn't been dropped in one of the many pre-made graves that ran along the hillside yet. "What a resilient boy she's found!" was the last macabre expression Hound was willing to put up with from the townsfolk before marching up that damned hill only to find a darker twist in the doorway. Naudedel was the one to free himself. The one to kill his mother and step off that hill in his own shoes. Hound just happened to walk in front of him. Or at least that's how he is allowed to tell the story.

The now trio continue their journey, arriving in one broken small town to the next. Around the time the young ones are teenagers and Hound is theoretically pushing late 30s yet every familiar face they meet on the road swears she hasn't aged a wink, They start a town riot...

...

However, that's a story for another time. Anyways, the kids adopted Cetcher as their new baby sister. Cetcher worked as an assistant for an apothecary in town. Though assistant is more of a stretch, servant or pet would have been more fitting. The man running the shop treated the child less than an errand boy and refused to elaborate on where he got her. So Naudedel made it his mission to run off with the kid with the ever-so-graceful help of Noble. After convincing Hound to take her in, the glossy-eyed baby joined their one-wagon caravan. With surprisingly great help from Naudedel, Hound taught Cetcher how to read and write, which might have been the start of her greatest joys, at least in the moment.

But they were on their way. And spent another 5 years on the road before getting close to the city. But that was where they would part ways for a year. Naudedel had found a lead to possibly undoing Noble's curse. But it would be out of their way and a possible goose chase. And Due to an unfortunate run-in with a certain swordsman wielding his signature longsword in his non-dominant hand. They needed to get on the move fast. The plan was for Naudedel and Cetcher to go off the path and for Hound to watch over Noble and make it into Eridia safely. This was the plan, but of course, things would never go accordingly. Here we are in the current day, Noble alone in Eridia left in Leander's care, Hound presumed dead, Cetcher lost in the Fogfall, and Naudedel making contracts with deities he is too proud to admit are over his head.

:)

But yes, my cornerstones of my silly found family.

[andmaybegayer]

Last Monday of the Week 2024-08-19

Tech companies will give you six interviews and think it's normal.

Listening: Got introduced to Skiltron who unfortunately I don't like very much. I'll see if it grows on me but not quite my speed, which is a shame because normally "metal and it has bagpipes" would have me from minute 0.

This is a metal band that does a bunch of Celtic-y sounds so they are, of course, from Argentina.

I think that this goes too far away from what I'm coming to metal for, their vocals are too clear. Strip out the vocal stem and I think I would like this a normal amount, but the clean vocals pull me out of it. You don't have to go full croak for it but at least growl a little.

Reading: Started up on The Tyrant Baru Cormorant which about ⅕ of the way into the book already feels like I'm getting to the end of a book which is a good and normal sign that everything is going to be smooth sailing for the remaining sections of the book, I'm sure.

Baru is so fucked all the time it's incredible, like, you can see at every point how she just cannot keep herself from playing into the Masquerade's hands because she owes all her power to things she wants to destroy.

The story is very careful to not linger too long on all the horrible things she's doing to herself and others which means that while they're not hard to spot, you feel much more like you're inside her head where these things are the price you pay for the power she wields.

The setting of "sailing around in frigates but with essentially 1920's medicine" kinda rules.

Watching: Watched Blade (1998) which is a great deal of fun. If you can't ignore old CGI you're in trouble but otherwise it's over the top in a really enjoyable way.

Masquerade settings are a lot of fun, I kind of mentioned this in the John Wick entry, the idea that there is a secret parallel world overlaid on the real one scratches some good itches, I need to find more and more diverse kinds of masquerades.

Some motherfuckers always trying to ice skate uphill! Perfect metaphor.

Also more Gundam, up to like, e32? They just got back to space for the first time since arriving on Earth. I think that sometime around Odessa I went from kind of enjoying Gundam to really thinking it's doing something special. It's really dedicated to keeping you off-balance and throwing these very thorny situations and questions at you, even as a show that has to completely ignore a bunch of its deepest questions in order to be a children's toy advert.

Playing: Picked up KSP for a couple hours, I keep on not playing it long enough to do anything interesting so I'm completely ignoring time, I'm allowed to fast forward as much as I want to make missions happen. Trying to "fill time" often kills my desire to do missions, since even a simple mission can require hundreds of days of in game time and even if you have a whole lot of orbital admin within like, Kerbin and Jool systems those only use a couple days at a time.

Built some resource scanners and chucked them at Eve and Gilly, want to try and set up a fuel refinery base on both to operate a fuel interchange where you can launch crew from Eve and refuel in orbit with fuel more economically harvested at Gilly to account for the stupendous fuel expense of leaving Eve. Busy trialling re-entry of a little rover thing for scouting ground sites

Making: Made a bunch of progress on the LED driver, writing to flash storage, updated webui, but it is currently getting stuck after running for an hour or two and I cannot figure out why. Some of these issues seem to be more power delivery related rather than actual issues so it might be time to actually set up regulators and power supply for this thing.

Tools and Equipment: You can just put cups of water in the fridge to cool down. No one can stop you. I've been filling up my Tumblr Colour Of The Sky cup with water and fridging it to help keep cool.

[sunlightmurdock]

Baby, Now That I’ve Found You | Trouble in Paradise | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Drabble Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley helps you close up after a long shift and teaches you the words to one of his favourite songs. Takes place between Chapters 4-6 (somewhere in that time range).

Warnings: 1.6kish words, allusions to sex at the end, this one is pure fluff but warnings for the regular fic still apply and can be found on the Masterlist &lt;3

…

You look up, lips quirking softly at the sides to keep from beaming at him. These surprise visits are becoming more frequent, him showing up whenever he’s got a spare moment, passing through those doors and grinning at you. 

Only now, he’s stuck on the other side of them. He taps the glass with his knuckle once more, presses his hands together in a prayer-like motion, then points to the lock.

You look up, lips quirking softly at the sides to keep from beaming at him. These surprise visits are becoming more frequent, him showing up whenever he’s got a spare moment, passing through those doors and grinning at you.

“Go away, we’re closed.” You call playfully to him. Rooster juts his bottom lip out just slightly, putting those puppy-dog eyes to use as he frowns dramatically to you on the other side of the glass. You laugh softly, grabbing the keys from the top of the bar.

It’s a weekday night, Rooster had been waiting to hear from you. You were supposed to finish at six, it’s now eleven-thirty, half an hour after closing.

Rooster stands back as you unlock one side of the door and pull it open.

“Hey, sailor.” You grin, pressing your tongue to your cheek. He smiles, then leans in and kisses you softly.

“Hey, baby. I thought you were supposed to be finished already?” He asks, wrapping an arm around you to keep you close to him. Shit, you had forgotten. You were supposed to text him when you were done.

“Yeah, Zoe called in sick - I have to stay and close up, I’m sorry.” You hug him back. He pulls back and looks at you, shrugging his shoulders.

“I can wait.”

“No, Rooster - I have tons to do, I’m going to be a couple of hours at least. It’s just been me today.” You rationalize. The two of you get along great, but Abi would kill you if she came in tomorrow morning and you hadn’t gotten everything finished.

The place is a mess, you’re almost completely out of clean glasses, the chairs haven’t been stacked, the floors have to be mopped —

“Sounds like you could do with a hand.” Rooster steps past you, kissing the top of your head and continuing into the bar.

“You don’t have to.”

“You’ll be done faster if I do, plus this way I get to hang out with you.” He’s already shrugging off his Hawaiian printed over shirt and draping it across the back of a chair, leaving him in a plain white crew-neck t-shirt.

You stare after him as he immediately gets to work collecting glasses that have been left around. You smile softly, busying yourself with filling the dishwasher for the first time all afternoon.

“Sorry that it’s so quiet, I’d connect with the speaker but my phone’s charging in the back.” You explain, setting glasses down.

“You can connect mine. Any playlist is fine, my passcode is 1984.”

“You were born in…?” He turns his head towards you and raises his eyebrows slightly. You smile sweetly as he passes you his phone. “Never mind.”

You connect his phone to the speaker. He’s got a couple of different playlists. Gym mix, 70s stuff, wind down music. You select a playlist titled favorites, setting his phone down on the counter.

Rooster collects all of the glasses. You periodically run and empty the dishwasher, putting the chairs up on the tables while he cleans and covers the beer taps, under your guidance.

His music shuffles through the playlist, him humming softly to songs. You do work faster with him here, and it’s nice having the company. He’s actualily very helpful.

He mops while you finish off putting the glasses away, the music changes to an upbeat sounding song. You scrunch your nose slightly at it. It isn’t exactly what you’d listen to. None of his music is.

Rooster’s oblivious, swaying and nodding his head to the beat as he mops the floor like it’s actually his job to do so.

“Baby,” He sings out, moving his body to the music as he guides the mop over the wooden floor, “Now that I’ve found you, I can’t let you go, I’ll build my world around you.”

You lift the tray out of the dishwasher and set it on the side, your eyes on him as he dances to the song.

“I need you so, baby,” His voice grows louder with the music. An amused chuckle slips your lips, interrupting him. He looks up and raises his brows, caught but in no way ashamed. With your eyes on him and his on you, he smiles and continues to sing, “Even though you don’t need me. You don’t neeeed me.”

“Oh my god.” You laugh, pressing a hand over your mouth. Sure, you’ve seen Rooster’s sense of humor before, glimpses of inside jokes soon to come - but you’ve never seen this side of him.

He swings the handle of the mop forwards and leans into it like it’s a microphone, continuing with the chorus, clearly enjoying that he’s entertaining his audience.

Your friends would laugh if they were here. Your ex-boyfriends would think this is ridiculous. You’ve never been with a guy that isn’t trying to act too cool for you all of the time.

This is second nature to him. He’s happy, wrapped up in the moment and doing what he always does. His mom used to sing this song around the house on Sundays when she was cleaning. He knows the words like the back of his hand.

“Spent a lifetime looking for somebody to give me love like you-ou.” Rooster sings out, looking up and finding you still laughing. He sets the mop in the bucket and leans it against the counter.

Your smile falters slightly as he lifts a hand and curls his finger, beckoning you over to him, still moving his body to the music. “Now you’ve told me that you wanna leave me.”

You’re actually quite surprised at his sense of rhythm. Of all of the things you could have guessed that he was good at, this would not have been your first guess.

He expects resistance - Amy used to get so shy about dancing with him, it took him over a year to get her to join him - and that had been alone in the kitchen.

You glass you’re holding down on the shelf and smile once more. The music hums on, he swings his hips to the percussion as you step around the bar towards him. He extends his hand, smiling as your slip yours into his palm.

It’s easy to forget how strong Rooster actually is when he’s being so gentle with you. As soon as he’s got ahold of your hand, he pulls you sharply forwards until you’re pressed against him. You gasp, stumbling for footing, but secure in his arms and by no means at risk of falling.

He wraps his arms around and looks down at you. “Baby, now that I’ve found you, I can’t let you go.” You groan playfully as he squeezes you tighter, singing the words, swaying you with him.

Rooster takes your hands and guides them around his waist, then cups your cheeks in his hands. His eyes crinkle at the sides, his grin taking over his tanned face completely as he sings to you.

“I’ll build my world around you,” He sways his hips, grinning as you move your body with his. Rooster scrunches his nose softly, shaking his head as he continues on, “I need you so.”

You stare up at him, smiling like you’re on the verge of laughing. Warm, wrapped in his arms on a summer night, on the verge of shivering and covered in goosebumps.

“Baby, even though - you don’t need me.” Rooster slides his hands down to your waist, pulling you as close as him as possible. He leans into your space, his voice is deeper than the person singing but he still sounds good over the track.

He leans back slightly, swaying his shoulders to the beat. You grin at him, amused by his moves, actually kind of impressed by his voice. Rooster slides his hands back to grab yours as the next chorus approaches.

Your lips part slightly as he takes your hand and spins you away from him. He grins. You lean back laughing, arm outstretched as he holds you there for a moment. Drenched in blue neon and soft white from the string lights overhead, your eyes shut, one hand on your stomach because you’re laughing so hard.

He’s caught in the moment for longer than it lasts, just watching you.

You squeal as he spins himself, then twirls you back in against him, your back to his chest. He kisses your cheek, wrapping his arms around your middle. He leans a fraction of his weight into your back. As close as possible, half leaning on you, singing in your ear, guiding your body to the music.

“Spent a lifetime lookin’ for somebody,” His lips graze your earlobe, making you laugh and cringe away from him, hiding your face against his arm. He kisses your jaw sweetly, “To give me love like you.”

He hums softly over the next few lines, holding you close against him as the music starts to fade out. The song finishes and he smiles to himself for a moment before you turn to face him.

You look up, staring into those sweet brown eyes. He watches you glance down. You bite your lip slightly as you look back up again. “You’re going to have to mop the floors again.”

He looks down at the wet footprints on it and chuckles. Rooster reaches out, curling his fingers around your wrist and pulling you close again, “Guess I’d better hurry up so that I can get you home, huh?”

“Sounds like it.” You lift your chin, lips quirked as he kisses you softly.

He lets you go and grabs the handle of the mop, watching you walk back behind the bar to finish up.

…

@unordinare

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[leupagus]

The subtitle for this should be "Undead Hardy: Too Annoying To Be Scary"

It was near dawn by the time they heard someone fumbling at the door at the south transept and Hardy came limping in, caked with dirt and looking irate. "Six feet down you put me," he said, pointing an accusatory finger at Ellie. "Were you trying to make sure I couldn't get back out?"

"Couldn't say," Ellie confessed. Paul radiated tension behind her, although if Hardy was whinging like this he wasn't likely to eat anyone's brains. "But you're here now."

"Aye, just," he grumbled, and scrubbed at his hair. Clumps of earth skittered along the stone floor. "Did you catch him?"

Ellie stared at him, trying to parse his words. "Catch—?"

"The suspect, Miller, the one we were chasing through the boatyard! The one up in the cliff-top hut! How is it I spent the night digging myself up out the ground and I've got a better grasp on this case than you do?"

"Right," said Paul, clapping his hands on his knees and getting up. "I'll go find a broom. Detective, there's a garden hose outside round the back. I suggest you use it. And then you'll come back and clean this up. And you're making a donation to the church's roof fund."

"A donation?" Hardy demanded. "What for?"

"For starters, making me explain to the workmen why they have to re-dig the grave meant form Mrs. Ellison's funeral tomorrow," Paul snapped back, evidently coming to the same conclusion Ellie had: it was pointless to be afraid of an ancient horror as irritating as Alec Hardy. "Ellie, any time you want to talk, I'm here." And he went off toward the vestry, presumably in search of a broom and dustpan.

"Right," Hardy said, turning round and heading back outside. "Call the station and see if Uniform managed to do their jobs while you were sat round here gabbing with a suspect."

"A suspect?" Ellie repeated incredulously, following behind. "Paul could've had me arrested for seven different crimes—"

"Eight, if you include molestation of a corpse," said Hardy. "Call them, Miller. I'd do it myself, but you've got my jacket somewhere. And my shoes, where have those got to?"

"—he could have run screaming," she continued over him. "He could've called up Maggie and told her there's a… what are you, anyway?" Hardy ignored her as he cast about for the garden hose. "A zombie? A revenant? Isn't there something called a lich or something?"

"I told you, I prefer Hardy," he said absently, fiddling with the tap. After a moment it sputtered out water that had to be ice-cold, but he didn't show any sign of discomfort (or no more so than he usually did) as he rinsed off the worst of the grime from his clothes and face and hands.

She gaped at him. "What, is that supposed to be a joke? Making puns about your… condition?"

"It's not a condition," he protested.

Ellie resisted the primary-school urge to insist that it was, or at least that was the best term she'd come up with and until he had a better one he could just shut up. "Paul could've done any of those things, and he didn't."

"He wouldn't," said Hardy, dismissive, as he shook himself off. "Clergy get training in this sort of thing."

"Training or not, he helped me last night—"

"Aye, helped you bury me six feet underground—" Hardy said, stalking off toward the carpark.

"How was I supposed to know how deep?" Ellie shut the tap off and ran after him. "That's how deep a normal grave is, that's what we put you in. You're welcome, by the way."

"What made you think of it?" he asked, wheeling around to loom over her, scowling. "Burying me. Not something most folk would think of. Even when dealing with someone in my condition."

Ellie stood her ground, glaring right back up at him. She knew well enough by now the difference between DI Hardy, probing at someone to determine the truth and DI Hardy, being a tit. "It worked, didn't it?"

He made a grumbling noise in his throat that sounded like two cats having a go at each other. "How did you know it would work?"

Ellie hesitated. "I'm not sure," she said, in lieu of telling him about her jelly mould analogy. "I just knew it would."

He nodded, as though she'd given the right answer, then hovered a moment. "Well. Thanks for that." His scowl deepened, as if embarrassed by any expression of gratitude. "Get on the horn and find out what the hell happened last night. Plus we still need to find Susan Wright's dog — don't suppose there's been any progress on that. And I wasn't joking, Miller, where the hell are my shoes?"

"God, you're such a knob," Ellie muttered, but she fished the keys out of her pocket and stomped off toward the car, Hardy still complaining as he followed.

[realsorcerershit]

Hey, I'm gonna make a bit of a long post here. It's going to be ramble-y, it's going to be kind of a stream of thought deal, and I don't really know where it's going to end up as I'm writing this. It's personal, and it's something I feel strongly about, and it has to do with my last textpost.

So. The topic of today is:

I Don't Like Talking About Myself Anymore.

And no, this isn't going to be some post where I'm just venting, but moreso analyzing why. I need to get my thoughts out there on this, and I need to...talk about it, really. Just throw it off my chest, into a wild where maybe six people will read it. So let's get into it.

Last night, in a small bit of frustration, I made a post talking about people trying to over-analyze media, and give it an objective rating of it being good or bad, and indirectly using that as some high ground, telling people that they shouldn't like something because it's "objectively bad". If you want to read that, I'll put a link to it below.

Link to post: Fair warning, I use a bit of harsh language. I stand by it, though.

And ever since I posted this, I've been in a lot of thoughts about it. What brought this surge of emotion up? Why do I feel so particularly strongly about it? Why is this a belief I hold close to my heart? And - the answer isn't really simple. Like most emotions people go through, it ends up being a complex weave. So let's start with the absolute basics.

First thing's first. Part of the reason I feel so strongly about this is, that, there's a natural element of attachment to the media that people enjoy, and that includes myself. *I* have some form of attachment to the media I enjoy. FPSes, the dnd campaign I play in every week, the small bits of music and other games that I enjoy, the people I like watching on youtube or even the small amount of shows I enjoy watching. All of it takes up at least somewhat of a portion of my life, and as such, it becomes part of...who I am, in a way. Media sticks with people, it can influence them in various ways.

And now, we live in a world where people end up trying to analyze everything to a point where nobody can just admit that they *dislike* something these days. There always has to be some kind of justification for their dislike, there always has to be some logical, realistic reason for it that makes sense in their head. So, they come up with reasons why. And those reasons can range from a wide variety of things. For example, if I told someone I liked the genre of metal in music, I could get a response along the lines of, "Oh, metal (the genre of music) is too formulaic. Everything's the same, so it's bad. And, the lyrics end up sounding like a kid wrote them", instead of that person just saying "you know, I really do respect your tastes in music, however, I am not a fan of metal, because it simply isn't for me." The latter of these two responses would legitimately tell me, the person speaking, that, hey. I can respect that this isn't for them, and that I can disengage the topic on friendly terms. Not everyone's going to mutually like the exact same things, and that's part of being human. However.

The first response is where things get bad. Because now, suddenly, I feel confronted. I now have to sit there and justify my like for something, in a heated debate that I didn't want to have in the first place, because here I was, pouring my heart out about something I love. And now, that love is being attacked by someone who had no real purpose in it. And it doesn't even come out of a place of malice, most of the time. People are nowadays super trained into thinking that they have to fit into these very specific camps or else like...they'll be laughed at, or whatever.

So, this all leads me back to the topic at the top of this post. I don't like talking about myself anymore. I don't like going off about the hobbies I have. The OCs whose stories I think about every day, my favorite video games or movies or songs or...any of it. Because the default response these days seems to be that, if I'm not talking with someone who likes the things I like, that I'm going to be met with some form of backlash on it. And it hurts. It genuinely really hurts. I hold up something I genuinely love, and I want to talk about it with people. (At least, when people want to hear about it. Don't force things on people, that also isn't right. Something I'm working on myself, too.) I want to share it, and now I'm afraid to, because at the end of it all, I think I'm going to be...harassed, or chastised, or ridiculed, or some other thing, because that happens to be the default now. And now I feel backed into a corner, where I've put myself in some kind of shame box that I'm only now after maybe 15 years starting to slowly work my way out of.

Just respect other people's hobbies, as long as they aren't harmful. That's all I ask.

[jpitha]

Just a Little Further 7

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6

At least this one didn't dump us in a debris field.

We traversed the gate and reappeared into regular space, without any weird messages being beamed into my head and nowhere near any destroyed worlds.

"Helm!" Captain Q'ari shouted. "What's our speed relative to the Gate.

"Uh, nearly stationary Captain."

Captain Q'ari stopped. "But we entered the gate after having shut off a Stardrive. We should have shot out."

"Agreed Captain. But... we didn't. Maybe the Gates negate the energy imparted when we traverse them?"

Omar spoke up. "If they did that... then whoever built them knows way more about the laws of motion than we do. That's enough energy transfer to make those laws more like suggestions."

"Regardless" Kieran added. "We're almost drifting we're moving so slowly."

Captain Q'ari nodded. "Move us a short distance away from the Gate and then stop us relative to it. Commander Desmen, please locate us again."

Another few minutes and "Captain. We're still on the other side of the Milky Way, but we're only-" a dark chuckle here "- one hundred lightyears or so from our last location."

"Thank you Commander. Mullen, Any signals?"

I ran the scans, passive and active, K'laxi and Human. A few minutes into it, there, a ping.

"Captain. We have a ping. It's coming from another Starbase, but this one does not look to be destroyed. I'll show you on the main screen." I threw the image from the cameras up on the screen and sent local copies down to everyone's pad and station.

Much like the other Starbase, this one was an upside down teardrop shape with the base seemingly a round asteroid. Buildings and spires jutted out of the top while the bottom ended in a point that seems like it could be a docking ring. What's more..."

Gene gasped "There are ships docked at this one! Look the bottom!"

Sure enough, there were what looked to be five or six starships connected to the bottom of the Starbase. None were as large as FarReach, the largest seemed to be about half the size.

"Well Lieutenant Mullen. Any word from this Starbase?"

I put on my headphones and listened. The signal did have voices in it, but they weren't as frantic as the others. It was also repeating, so an automated message. No headache, no nosebleed. Whoever sent this one isn't trying as hard to reach us. I concentrated on the words and let their meaning flow through whatever happened to me on the gate.

"I think..." I started and shook my head. "No, It's an automated message. Something generic. Not a warning like the previous one. I can't get much more than that. I hope they're friendly and they have translators that work like ours. Maybe we can get an update."

"I've been listening to Melody." FarReach said. "based on what you've said and the messages we've received already, I think that this is like... a different version of the language. The one that you know might be like a navigators language? This one might be something else, like a trader's language? The words are similar but..." You could almost hear FarReach shrug. "It's unknown to us. We don't know exactly how they communicate. But, I think for now it's safe to go there and see if they'll let us dock. Exploring is what we came here to do, right?"

"How long of a trip is it Helm?" Q'ari said, weary.

"If we take it easy, it'll be a day or so." Kieran answered.

"Take it easy then. I think it's time we all went off duty and got some rest and something to eat."

****

That night after dinner, I didn't sleep well at all. I tossed and turned all night, and when I did sleep, I had wild dreams.

I dreamt that I was on a planet with two suns! One was yellow, like Earth's sun and one was a reddish orange and much much bigger. I was wearing this strange gown and was sitting in a... throne practically. People were standing around me and asking things. They were speaking the language that the gates used and I knew it! It was so easy! They were asking me about Earth and the K'laxi and...all of a sudden there was a shadow that crossed the suns. I turned to look and it wasn't a shadow, it was a swarm of spacecraft! So many they blocked out the suns.

And then I awoke, sweaty and scared.

I took a shower, got dressed and came down to breakfast. I ate some food and drank some coffee and felt better, but not a lot.

As I got into my seat on the Command Deck, Captain Q'ari came in, once again with an immaculate uniform, fur brushed until it shone. I looked at my uniform which while clean was a little rumpled and felt self conscious. After shift today, I should press my uniforms.

We were approaching the unknown Starbase and I put on my headphones and signaled them. Not knowing the language, I just sent the human and k'laxi friendly signals and flashed the front lights with "request to dock" in the old thruster code.

Almost immediately a reply came back.

"Unknown starship, unknown starship, identify yourselves."

I gasped. I understood them. Toggling the mic I answered. "This is the join Human and K'laxi exploration Starjumper FarReach, requesting permission to dock and exchange greetings."

"Understood FarReach. You are cleared to dock on umbilical X45. We will meet you there."

"Acknowledged. Umbilical X45. FarReach out."

Wow, that was easy. How did they... learn... Colonic...

With a dawning realization, I turned and faced the crew. Every single person on the Command Deck looked at me, horrified.

"I spoke their language, didn't I?" I asked sheepishly.

"YES, YOU DID!" Omar shouted.

"When did you learn that?" Kieran asked, surprised.

Captain Q'ari absentmindedly rubbed her ear with her hand. "You should go to the infirmary probably Lieutenant."

Nodding, I stood up and stumbled towards the door. "Oh." I said. "We have authorization to dock on umbilical X̶̨̡̛͎̮͎̯̝̭̯̘̝̝̥̩̝͚̊̽͊̔̏̽͝ͅ4̷̡̡̤̼̗̘̣̖̓͛̒̽̑͘ͅ5̵̯͕̖̤̻͈͉͓̰̽́͊̊͌̀̾̚." They looked at me. "Er, it's the one that has the squiggly and the lines that looks like this." and I drew it out fast on the Captain's pad.

Dr Irenimum gave me a very... thorough scan, concentrating on the brain and tisked. "I'm sorry Melody, I missed this earlier, maybe the concentration was lower... hmm..."

"Missed what, Doctor?" I said trying to not sound like I was freaking out. (I was, but only a little).

"It appears that you've had some nano-machines introduced to your body. They're..." he made a gesture, like a K'laxi shrug "introducing the languages that people speak around here... probably." He looked a little lost. Neither humans or k'laxi really did much work with nano-machines. Once we had the theory down, we both decided that they were too dangerous.

"They're re-wiring my brain? But, how do they know how to do that?"

"Now that is a smart question." He said smiling sadly. "Unfortunately, it's one we can't answer... yet. For now, I'd say keep an eye on how you're feeling, come to me if you feel different or strange and let's leverage this... gift you've been given. You can speak to them. I imagine that Fer'resi is vibrating with excitement. He's a linguist. If you talk to him you and him and FarReach may be able to build enough of a language model that we can use the translators and communicate more."

"I wonder if this is on purpose." I said, thinking. "Nothing happened until I touched the directory stone. Maybe it's an automated system to help people who discover the stone use the system and traverse the world that the gate builders made."

Dr Irenimum nodded. "That's very likely. It is curious why it's never happened to a K'laxi before. We've been using the Gates for centuries and as far as I know dozens, if not hundreds of K'axi have touched the directory stones. Maybe this stone is different, or this station is different or..." he stopped."

"Or I'm different." I finished for him. "Fer'resi said I was the first human he knew to touch one."

"Yes... that's true, though I don't like the implications of that being true. It implies that humans had more to do with the Gates than we know currently and you for some reason... stopped using them. Earth didn't have a Gate in the Sol system and there wasn't a Gate for dozens of light-years around Sol. It's almost..."

"Almost what Doc?"

"Almost like you were placed somewhere far away from the Gates."

FarReach spoke up "Doctor Irenimum are you aware of the K'laxi rumor about the Warp Gates?"

He looked up. "Hmm. No, I don't think I am FarReach, which rumor is that?"

"Supposedly, when the K'laxi first met humanity, they were touring human starships and they found that human power reactors aren't just like the power reactors in Warp Gates, but they are identical."

"Hmm" Dr Irenimum waggled his ears in a way that would be like a furrowed brow for a human. "That sounds a little too convenient for me. It could be parallel evolution or coincidental development or..."

"Or humans found a warp gate but sometime in the past it was made inoperable so that they couldn't traverse it but could take it apart and study it?" FarReach said.

"I-i'm not one to speculate" Dr Irenimum said. "This is all highly irregular. FarReach you're sounding like you're implying that Humans didn't originate on Earth, or if they did, they once had a galaxy spanning empire and were... kicked out?"

"Nothing of the sort my good Doctor, nothing of the sort." FarReach said. "Just... thinking out loud."

Clearly, this conversation wasn't really for me, even though it was peripherally about me. I got up. As I walked towards the door, Dr Irenimum finally noticed me. "Ah Melody. Please remember what I said. I think you're fine, but you are the only one who can be truly sure. It's not my body."

"Thank you Doctor, I will keep an eye on myself." I said and walked out.

I went back to my room, shut the door and flung myself onto the bed. What a day it's been. What a month it's been. I don't know what I expected when I came onboard FarReach, but I don't think this is it.

I stared at the ceiling for a bit and then sat up. "Hey FarReach" I asked. "How long until we dock?"

"Still a few hours Melody, why?"

"Well I assume that Captain Q'ari is going to ask me to come out and talk for/at everyone so I wanted to get some range time in first."

"Okay sure. You can go to the range. I'll make sure it's lit and warm when you get there."

I jumped out of bed and headed out. Part of the reason I am such a crack shot is that I love to practice. The only way to get better is to practice and for whatever reason, I like to practice shooting.

The firing range, is at the far end of FarReach, back near the engines. It's just basically a long hall that nobody uses with targets at one end, and a weapons locker at the other. All crew are recommended to get time in at the range, but I seem to be the only one who likes it, so I go the most and I have the highest score.

Yes, I am proud of that, and no I'm not sorry.

I open the weapons locker and take out my favorite rifle. I keep it over here since this is where I use it the most, but if we're going to be going off ship, I guess I should clean it and get it polished and ready to look intimidating on my back.

But first, lets run a couple of magazines through it, just to make sure I haven't lost my touch with all this nanotech in my blood.

Part 8

[garbinge]

Shotgun Rider

Frank Castle & OC Ana "Ty" Tyler 30 Day Fic Challenge (16/30)

Word Count: 1.7k

Continuation of this fic A/N: Okay so I've toyed with the idea of making these two a couple, but I'm always so hesitant because I feel like their platonic relationship is just so perfect (in their own way of course) and that they're both just sooo complicated and wrapped up in their own shit to really even think about that, but idk. Maybe one day??? But for now, enjoy their friendship lol.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Mentions of violence, blood, wounds, etc.

All Writing Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989

“Thanks by the way.”  Ty broke the silence in the car, she was pretty sure she snapped Frank out of some deep thought. 

“For what?” He grunted as he readjusted himself, almost embarrassingly, like his inner thoughts had been broadcasted on a loud speaker. 

“Coming with me, you didn’t even ask any questions you were just grabbing our shit and going.” Her legs were crisscrossed on the seat as her hands mindlessly played with the anklet sitting on her right foot. 

“You came into my life with no fuckin’ warning, Ty.” Frank’s hood was over his ears but his face was still extremely visible. It was a statement she weren’t expecting from him and could honestly go in any direction. “And as much as I fought to have a simple fucking life without issue. I gotta say, if I was forced to spend my time with someone, I guess I’m glad it’s with you.” He shrugged. 

“That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said.” Ty teased, now staring at Frank with a grin. 

“To you.” He tipped his head towards her as he teased her back. 

This caught Ty’s attention and her eyebrows raised and she gave him a questioning look. “What sweet things did you say to Karen.” 

“Next.” He closed off immediately. 

“For the record, if I was forced to spend my time with someone, I guess I’m glad it’s with you too.” She agreeably changed the topic back to their original one. “You’re my shotgun rider, Frank.” 

“I think you’re my shotgun rider.” He pointed to the seat she was sitting in. 

“It’s metaphorical, you came on this mission for me.” She corrected him. “So you’d be my shotgun rider.”

“My friend was in distress, I came to help a friend, not on a mission.” He tried to argue. 

“So you admit it, I’m your friend.” She smiled, loving when she could trip him up like this. 

“I really liked it when we were quiet, wasn’t that nice? Enjoying the view.” He pointed out the windshield. 

“It’s Ohio, Frank. There isn’t shit to see it look all the same.”

“Don’t they say Ohio is the heart of it all?” 

“I don’t know who says that but they’re on crack.” She leaned her head on the window and watched the same landscape pass her by as the miles ticked. 

Eventually she opened the window, letting Roxy her dog sit calmly on her lap as the breeze hit her face while Ty let her hand out the side making waves in the wind. 

“How old’s your niece?” Frank asked, knowing the both of them were approaching the destination. 

“15. But not sure how 15 she really is. She was forced to grow up pretty quick, learn about shit that a kid had no business knowing.” 

“Well, you have experience in that area.” Frank thought he was being helpful but it just added to the weight of all this. 

“It’s because of me that she’s dealing with this.” Ty put all the blame on herself. 

Frank wanted to argue but he knew it wouldn’t do anything, this was something she’d have to work through on her own. 

“We’re like 15 minutes away. You got a game plan or are we improvising when we get there?” 

“No, I have a game plan. I’m thinking we survey the area for 5, just laps, keep our eyes peeled. Once we’re in the clear or at least have markers on what to keep an eye on, I’ll go up to the door but gonna need you to have my six. I’m thinking grab and go, she should have her shit together, I don’t want to be there for more than 5 minutes tops in case anyone is moving in. But if they are, they won’t do it right away so it gives us a little bit of a window.” It was thought through because she had been planning it for the entire ride. 

“Understood.” Frank nodded. “You want me to wait outside the door? In the car?” Frank knew outside the door was the closest to having her six but inside the car would be more stealth and keep their window open. 

“Nah, with me in the room.” She responded so quickly, again, knowing exactly how she wanted this to go down. 

“You realize in the car I have the element of surprise.” He was confused. 

“But in the room we can communicate better.” It was a shitty excuse and Frank knew it. 

“I could set up comms?” He was frowning. “What aren’t you telling me?” 

“I’m telling you everything.” Her arms were crossed. 

“Bullshit.” His hand waved and then gripped the wheel. 

“If something happens to me, I need you there to take care of her. If we go in together I can introduce you to her quickly, she’ll know you’re my friend and have some sort of trust, if you wait in the car she won’t know you from them.” 

Frank sighed, seeing how deeply traumatized Ty was from all this but also understanding her thought process. 

“Alright inside it is.”

_______________

As Ty knocked on the door, a special knock Frank picked up on the rhythm of it to signal that it was her, it opened pretty immediately. Both Ty and Frank slipped into the room, Frank moving to the window, pulling his gun out of his waist band, and readjusting the one in his zip up hoodie out so it was strapped across his chest. He didn’t move the curtains by much, maybe a centimeter but his eye was on the marker he spotted during their scoping. 

“Who the fuck is that?” THe voice he wasn’t familiar with spoke up and he knew she was referring to him. 

“That’s Frank, he’s a friend of mine and he’s here helping us, okay? We like Frank, Frank is cool.” 

“The coolest.” He chimed in, bringing up the scope from the gun strapped across his chest to get a better look out the window. “4 minutes, Ty.” He said, his voice staying calm. 

“Where’s your stuff, let’s grab it and get in the car.” Ty’s voice was completely the opposite, it was breathy and stressed. Frank picked up on it immediately and adapted his mindset and expectations based on that. 

“Right now? Can we just take a beat please. I feel like I’ve been on edge for days and now that you’re here I feel like I can breath.” The young girl’s voice was hopeful, Frank could hear that clear as day and he immediately realized he might be the only one on their 100% game right now. 

“3 and a quarter.” Frank kept his neutral tone, hoping the warning would be enough to stap Ty back into it. 

“We don’t have time. Grab your stuff, let’s go.” 

There she was. That was what Frank said to himself in relief for a brief second before he saw movement in his scope. 

“Time changed. We got 60 seconds. We go now or we prep for some type of interaction.” 

“Fuck.” The stress in Ty’s voice came back. 

Frank wished he could turn to look at her and snap her back into it but he needed to keep his eye on outside. 

“Alright, you in the drawer.” Ty rolled out the bottom dresser drawer and placed the bible quickly in the top one so as to not leave a clue of where the girl was. 

“The drawer? Forget it, let’s go in the car, I’m ready.” She had her bag in hand finally. 

“Too late, in the drawer now.” 

But unfortunately it was too late for everyone because someone was breaking into the bathroom window, the place where Frank wasn’t and almost immediately there was gunfire before everything went black.

________

As Frank opened his eyes, he looked around to see himself in the passenger seat of the van, one of Ty’s long black sleeves tied tight around his shoulder. His eyes looked over to see Ty driving the van, her eyes glued to the road, besides her occasional glance to the rearview and side mirror to see if we were being followed. Frank looked behind him to see the young girl who was her niece passed out, using Rox as a pillow. 

“What happened?” Frank tried to adjust how he was situated without grunting too much. 

“You got shot and passed out.” Her eyes still not moving from the road. 

“I’ve been shot plenty of times, never passed out from a bullet wound.” He was confused. 

“Yea you hit your head on the dresser drawer when you went down from the hit.” 

It was then that Frank felt the throbbing pain in his head, he wasn’t anywhere near the dresser from what he could remember so he was confused how this all really went down. 

“You played hero, took the bullet for me. Which turned out to be good because when you went down and hit the drawer, you knocked it off it’s tracks and it popped up so I could use it to knock out the guy shooting at us and get to the front door in time to shoot the two people coming from there. Good thinking on the silencer on your handgun.” She leaned forward and grabbed it from under the middle console. 

“They follow us?” Frank was now leaning forward to look in his side mirror. 

“Don’t think so, think we got them all, but I’ve been circling for a while keeping my eye out before I start heading back.” 

“How’d you get me in the car?” He was curious, he wasn’t exactly light. 

“Layla grabbed your feet and I grabbed your shoulders.” 

“Layla, huh?” Frank looked back again to see her even more cuddled to Rox. 

“Get some rest, I’ll drive us home.” 

“Just kick me if you wanna switch.” He resituated himself again and closed his eyes. 

‘For the record, you’re my shotgun rider forreal now.” The smirk could be heard in Ty’s voice. 

“Shut up.”

[sig-nifier]

twenty questions for writers

thanks sm @swifty-fox for the tag!! i love things like this.

tagging @magneticghouls and @onyxsboxes and literally anyone who fancies it

how many works do you have on ao3?

33!

what's your total ao3 word count?

155,902

what fandoms do you write for?

whatever tf the current fixation is. i've written for rooster teeth, our flag means death, buzzfeed unsolved, masters of the air, the eternals, and challengers! currently got a slow horses fic in the works :))

top five fics by kudos

i like the way your words taste - a fluffy druig/makkari oneshot with 860

wild things - a western gale cleven/john egan au with 849

the art of consumption - a smutty art/patrick fic with 780

make you feel alive - another gale cleven/john egan oneshot with 633

hitchhikers - a serial killer ryan begara/shane madej au with 485 (the first multichapter fic i wrote that got me an audience it was wild)

do you respond to comments?

ofc! i try and respond to every single one with at least a thank you

what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

a fic called stay with me, which ended in MCD.

what is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i end most of my fics happily!

i think the happiest is probably wild things. everything works out for the better in that one

do you get hate on fics?

i dont! very grateful that everyones always so nice, makes me feel like the are you winning son meme

do you write smut?

i used to never write smut but something this year just had me writing so much of it and whilst it feels mostly awkward to write, people seem to like it!

craziest crossover?

i've never written any kind of crossover, and i don't like to read them either. i guess MOTA in the western genre is the closest i'll come.

have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of!

have you ever had a fic translated?

nope!

have you ever co-written a fic before?

also nope!

all time favorite ship?

ive been in fandoms since i was like 12, there's no way i can pick an all time favourite. it literally just depends on what im into at the time.

i really like inej/kaz from six of crows. i think scully/mulder is great. hannibal/will. ellie/dina. willem/jude.

off the top of my head i would say i'm most fond of the tenth doctor/rose. that one gets me.

what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i'm really starting to doubt my ability to finish seven miles out of freedom town. im gonna try my best but the hyperfixation has moved on and it feels more like a chore than something im enjoying rn. im really sorry to anyone that disappoints, it disappoints me too, cos wild things was genuinely some of the most fun i've ever had writing fic and interacting with a community. i'll try and get it finished, it might just take me a while.

what are your writing strengths?

i think im pretty good at dialogue, making it sound like something a real person would say.

i think im fairly decent at dramatic writing, at making things sound flowery and poetic and theatric. thats my favourite way to write.

dont think im too bad at characterisation most of the time.

what are your writing weaknesses?

i suck at worldbuilding. i think its boring and i dont care for it, i just want to write about the characters. planning bores me. i just write things and go back and fix inconsistencies later.

wild things is the most effort i've ever put into a world. i was googling locations like a mofo to make things accurate.

thoughts on dialogue in another language?

i think its great! one of my favourite fics has a character that speaks french and he uses it to tease other characters who don't know what he's saying. its done so beautifully.

first fandom you wrote in?

if we're talking actual first fandom it was probably one direction or creepy pasta when i was like 13.

the first fandom i ever wrote for seriously was buzzfeed unsolved in 2018.

favorite fic you've written?

im very proud of washed clean, an angsty oneshot about gale/john. i really like the writing in that one.

i dont think i can pick a favourite, i have like three. hitchhikers and the axeman of new orleans were my starting points and really showed me the joy of writing fic that other people were going to read. i had a lot of fun writing those and i love me some dark themes.

wild things consumed my every thought for like, the 11 days i was writing it. ive never been so obsessed with one of my own fics before, it still blows me away how well it was recieved and i met some great people through it so im eternally grateful for that.

yeehaw, y'all.

[honeyedwordsandblades]

Was writing out tags on agothorn's post about Astarion/Tav and how Tav could've been another Sebastian if they had met Astarion before but I got pretty carried away and instead wrote not an essay but a whole goddamn novel??? And did u know Tumblr only lets you put 30 tags top on a post? (And it still wasn't enough, lmao whoops.)

So here are those tags, a bit reformatted to be a text post instead. Thank you in advance if you decide to go on this crazy ride of my dumb ramblings!

--

Honestly, I imagine when they get down there and see all the vampire spawn, all his previous targets/victims (and the other six's I'm sure), Rose immediately thinks back to the beginning of their journey together. Of the early days where she was so smitten and head over heels for Astarion, without really knowing him or his past.

And looking at all his past victims, all in front of her (especially with his interaction with Sebastian), she immediately realizes that if they had met another way, if they had met before the mindflayers kidnapped them all, she would have also been so easily manipulated and played. Lured just like the rest of his victims straight to Cazador. Like a lamb to slaughter. Like a fool lured straight off a cliff. And so happily too. So blissfully unaware and ignorant of her awaiting inevitable fate.

She knows, in that instant, if they had met before instead of when they did, she'd be down here with the rest of his victims. And, more than likely, afterward he would've just completely and entirely forgotten about her. Assumed her dead and had been done with it.

She wouldn't even be a ghost of a memory to haunt him for eternity, for the rest of his undead life. She'd been nothing to him.

(I'd like to believe that wouldn't be true though. He'd remember her just like he remembered Sebastian. Another poor innocent soul that, in their very short time together, she would have undoubtedly left quite the impression and mark upon him. He would always remember her. And, yes, she would absolutely haunt him for the rest of his undead life. Such a naive girl with such a big loving caring heart. How could he ever forget her? And her soft brown-hazel eyes and her lovely up-done brown hair. And the biggest smile he's ever seen. All just for him. Because of him. He'd never truly forget her. But I digress (too much). We're talking about Rose's point of view not Astarion's, lmao.)

She'd mean nothing to him as he found a way to usurp Cazador (if he was able to at all otherwise. But assuming if he did.) and would so easily and readily sacrifice her and all his and his "sibling's" victims in order to become the ~Vampire Ascendant~ .

Because she would mean nothing to him. Or, at least, (after seeing his panic and slight hesitation after talking to Sebastian) he would try to make himself believe that. Push away all the rising guilt suddenly trying to claw itself up from his dead heart and out his throat. Push it all down, hoping it would return from whence it came and just shut up and never return. That this is what he wants. What he's always wanted. (Right?)

And, after they speak with Sebastian, Rose would speak with Astarion personally. An argument as 'old as time' (i.e. as long as their relationship has been) started fresh and anew once more. About Astarion doing the ritual himself. And she would say in no uncertain bitter terms all that i've described above to him, to his face.

And maybe he's thought about it before. About how easy a target she would've been. How she would've been another poor lost soul. Gone. Disappeared into the night. Far from reach from family, from friends, from anyone and everyone. So easily snatched from her life. Not a trace of her to be found. Almost like she never existed. (But he would remember her. Gods, her smile. Her eyes. She would haunt him.)

But now, after seeing Sebastian, seeing all his victims in front of him... Discovering that they hadn't died and were very much (horribly) alive and undead, vampire spawn just like him and his 'siblings'. All of them connected to him, not just as his past victims, but through carved scars just like the one on his back. All for this grim infernal ritual where they would all be sacrificed (including himself if his plan to kill and usurp Cazador in the ritual didn't succeed).

But now presented with Rose's theoretical... To imagine her right alongside Sebastian and all his other victims, in just as terrible and poor a state as they are. And, instead of seeing her lovely brown-hazel eyes, being meet only with undead vampiric red burning straight into his soul... It instantly sends a chill down his spine. And it makes him sick to his stomach to even think, to even imagine such an image.

But Rose presses on, despite his reaction, despite the clear look of horror that passes on his face. And brings his imagination further. Spelling out as clear as she can exactly what her fate would end up being if she had been one of his victims. If he took up the ritual in Cazador's place- She would die. Right alongside all the other vampire spawn. They were meant for sacrifice after all. And that's the role they and, more importantly, she would serve.

He'd have everything. And she would be dead.

Sacrificed for the power he would then have.

He's too stunned to speak, but he knows what she's doing. Her manipulations are too obvious. But perhaps that's the point. She's not trying to manipulate him, she's trying to persuade him. Or better put, she's pleading. Begging him to see the terrible horror of the atrocity he's planning to commit. (As if he doesn't already know. As if he didn't know it all along. Although, admittedly, not at this scale. It was only 6 before, not 7,000.)

All by placing herself in the role of one of his victims.

And he has to admit: It's working.

He'll try to reason with her (twist and manipulate it back). That she's not. And, besides, he's doing it for both of them. So they can both be safe. With such power he can-

She huffs exasperated, disappointed. And she's already shaking her head. Somehow disbelieving that he's coming up with the same excuses as he always has.

But he knows they both heard his voice as he spoke. Quivering, uncertain. Clearly reaching, relying on old scripted justifications. But he still clings tightly to old hopes, old plans.

And, here and now, just before the end, just before the finale, is when she finally pulls out the ultimatum she's been mulling about for ages.

He must not go through with the ritual. If he does... She will ensure he never takes it.

She stares straight into his eyes as she tells him. Eyes (and heart) hardened. Walls up. Back straightened. Looking at him defiantly.

The look of a Hero.

He's only seen her do it a few times before but never to him. And now that she is... Now that he's on the other side of it. Well, he won't lie. A cold feeling of fear runs down his spine. He knows when she's like this that she means every word she says and will absolutely commit to it.

Before he can even speak, she softens, breaks. Pain written plainly across her face.

Ever so softly, she pleads with him not to go through with it (the ritual). She admits she doesn't want to, but she will- end him (What a nice way to say "kill him where he stands". Almost like she can't even bring herself to say it.) And he fully believes her.

Her earlier pleading, her theoretical, may have (deeply) shaken him, but this- This ultimatum... certainly gave him pause.

Although not as much as her next words.

"Please don't make me kill you."

Hushed, soft. An almost whisper that, well- metaphorically speaking, kills him on the spot. Like a stake to his undead heart.

The image of him beginning the ritual and her swinging her sword, one good ol' swing through his neck, his head suddenly gone enters his mind.

She would do it. He knows it.

Would he risk it? Attempt the ritual and, if he succeeds, if she doesn't chop off his head, beg for forgiveness? (Command her to forgive him even? He quickly pushes the thought from his mind.)

But staring into her pained, pleading eyes, her words still echoing in his mind like relentless ghosts haunting him, he knew his choice had been made.

Only a bit reluctantly does he promise her then and there that he would not go through with taking Cazador's place in the ritual. They would stop him and nothing more. Promise.

He can see that Rose is hesitant to believe him but she does relax some. Perhaps naively hoping that he had in fact come to his senses and was actually going to follow through with his promise. (After all, he's made promises before and kept them. Right?)

And he does.

(Although when he finally has the staff in his hands and he hesitates for just a small second, she's very kind to not bring up that moment later on.)

(And yes. She noticed. But after he continues on to save and free all the vampire spawns, both his siblings and those in the cells, she quickly forgets about it. All forgiven.)