#I am a slave..a slave to the playlist

[bosspigeon]

nobody tagged me, it just looked fun :) feel free to do it yourself~

[luckyyyduckyyy]

I might have been the silly billy-

When they say 13 days they don't mean like... as in it was the only band I listened to for 13 days straight right? Chat? Chat what happened. I think I blacked out for 13 days-

[impandgnomes]

like, afaik Touch-Tone Telephone is the ultimate cliche in Tweek-themed playlists, but has Basket Case by Green Day become one yet or is this a base not yet covered

[sonnet009games]

Demonology: Incubus Playlist (Part 3!)

Am I Pretty? by The Maine

Better Than I Know Myself by Del Water Gap

Bitter Medicine by The Crane Wives

Blinding Lights by The Weeknd

Chapstick by COIN

The Fixer by Brent Morgan

The Frug by Rilo Kiley

Hook Me Up by The Veronicas

I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE by Måneskin

I Want You to Want Me by Letters to Cleo

I'm With You by Avril Lavigne

LIFE AFTER SALEM by Lil Nas X

Like Sexy Dynamite by The Orion Experience

Little Chaos by Orla Gartland

Little White Lies by Aurelio Voltaire

My Ugly by Cloudfodder

No Sleep Tonight by The Faders

No Time to Explain by Good Kid

Oh My God I Think I Like You from My Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

Reckless Tongue by Airways

Rush by Troye Sivan

Sexual by Neiked

Simple Romance by COIN

Stitch Me Up by Set It Off

Talking Body by Tove Lo

Tap That by Megan McCauley

Teeth by 5 Seconds of Summer

Um, It's Kind of a Lot by Will Wood

Undisclosed Desires by Muse

Untouched by The Veronicas

Use Me Up (Angel's Order) by PARANOiD DJ

Weak by AJR

xx by morgxn

Tracks in bold are new. There are plenty more amazing songs that have been suggested over the months--these are just the ones I listen to the most.

As a bonus, here's the supplementary soundtrack to Chapter 6*:

I'm Just a Boy in Love from My Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

Love Me Dead by Ludo

obsessed by Olivia Rodrigo

Objection (Tango) by Shakira

*(This is purely vibes based; don't take it too seriously!)

[burningcheese-merchant]

What songs do you think fit pureshadow?

How did you know I was making a PureShadow playlist. Get away from my notes >:(

In all seriousness, I do have a handful of songs for them lol. Trailers got me on fiend timing right now. Same general rules as the BurningCheese one, although this one is significantly shorter

Big Data, Joywave - Dangerous 🥛

Arctic Monkeys - Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High? 🥛

Phantoms - Pulling Me In 🍦

Fish in a Birdcage - Rule #34 🥛

Måneskin - I Wanna Be Your Slave 🥛

Matt Maeson - Cringe 🥛

The Weeknd - Can't Feel My Face 🍦

Genesis - That's All 🍦🥛

Lady Gaga - Bad Romance 🍦🥛

Rihanna - Disturbia 🍦

Queens of the Stone Age - The Lost Art Of Keeping A Secret 🍦🥛

Lady Gaga - Judas 🍦 (you could give this to all the BeastAncient pairs tbh)

Divinyls - I Touch Myself 🥛 (come on, listen to it and tell me Shadow wouldn't sing it, I dare you lol)

Oliver Tree - Hurt 🍦🥛 (mostly Vani)

Gwen Stefani - The Sweet Escape 🥛

Bon Jovi - You Give Love A Bad Name 🍦🥛 (mostly Vani)

Queens of the Stone Age - No One Knows 🍦

Hozier - Take Me To Church 🍦

Air Traffic Controller - This Is Love 🥛

Allie X - Old Habits Die Hard 🍦

Local Natives - When Am I Gonna Lose You 🍦

Some of these might not fit as well as the others but oh well. I'm open to suggestions and can always come back and edit

[thevoidscreams]

We gettin a bit romantical

Husbandry au Vulkan x Reader

Just some fluff and Vulkan being the goat

Vulkan set his tools aside as he studied the tiny marvel of art before him. A feeling of satisfaction growing as he imagined how delighted you would be when you received it. As gently as his big hands would allow he placed the ring into a small box he'd also crafted by hand. His twin hearts hammered as he heard you coming home. The table was set, the mood and lighting were perfect. He still did not fully understand this holiday or why it was so important, but he'd read so many books and blogs and articles to ensure that this night would be a perfect one.

As soon as you'd walked through the door the smell of delicious food hit you, then it was the balloons, literally, as they bobbed in the entry hall to your home. The next detail you'd noticed was the flower petals and seemingly source-less red glow emanating from further into the house. Then a subtle strain of music caught your attention. Your heart beat a bit faster. Had Vulkan done all of this for you? The idea made your cheeks warm.

He was taller now, taller than you at least, which seemed to be a trend. The two of you had been romantically involved for a while, and you loved him like no other you had ever dated. But he wasn't exactly like any other man you'd dated.

You cleared the wall separating you from the dinning room and gasped. It was like a scene from a romance movie. The picture what most people thought when they heard romantic candle lit dinner. A hand slid down in front of your eyes startling you but you settled as you felt Vulkan's warmth and heard his chuckle. "Welcome home dear."

Turning you in his arms he settled a bouquet into yours and smiled. "Is it.. adequate?" "Adequate? It's amazing. No one has ever done something like this for me." You stood on your tip toes and he met you for a soft kiss. He held you there for a long minute, just indulging in the taste of your lips as the sound of music surrounded the two of you.

"Shall we eat then?" Asked. His voice as soft as the glow of the candles.

"Yes, please. I'm starving." You gasped and he chuckled.

Of course it was your favorites, he must have spent the whole day slaving over the stove to ensure that you could have all the dishes you loved. "I know that I am more a creator of metal works, but I hope that my cooking is as satisfactory."

You nodded enthusiastically as you couldn't really speak around the mouthful of food filling out your cheeks. "Mmhmm!!" You hummed along with the nod. Vulkan smiled, he'd waited till he was sure you'd have enough to be satisfied before he served any for himself. He couldn't take his burning eyes off of you though. Even as you scarfed down the food he'd made you. It only made him feel that much more pleased that he had done well for you. But his fingers itched with the need to simply present you with the ring he'd spent days crafting. Making it and unmaking it over and over till it was as perfect as it could be. He focused his attention on his plates and began to eat with you. Allowing a comfortable silence to fill the space between you.

You felt so full you were half sure he'd have to carry you to bed that night. His big strong arms could do it with no problem of course, and the idea had a certain appeal to it. Vulkan had gathered up the dishes, insisting that you stay put and allow him to treat you, which to him also meant not allowing you to help in the clean up from dinner.

He worked quickly. Eager to get back to what he had planned. He's rarely felt this kind of anxiousness, the anticipation of something so deeply important to him. He found you on the couch where he'd instructed you to wait. Even in your rumpled work clothes you were so stunning to him. He went to you, meeting your smile with one of his own. Something in that moment seemed to call for quiet and as if on cue the playlist he'd put together came to a close as he knelt in front of the couch, taking your hand in his.

"Is everything okay?" You asked softly, sudden worry on your face and in your voice. Vulkan was surprised as you reached out with a free hand and cupped his cheek, wiping away a tear he hadn't realized had fallen. "Yes. Everything is perfect, more than that even. I love you so deeply, my hearts beat in unison for you, you fill my waking thoughts and you feature in every dream that I am fortunate to have. I could not imagine a life better lived here than one with you." His thumb brushed over the back of your hand. He met your eyes, a gesture which used to make you so nervous you'd shake.

It felt like there was more he needed to say so you let him speak, encouraging him to continue by raising your joined hands and kissing his. He seemed lost in you for a moment before he remembered.

He reached for something in his pocket, your heart jump upon seeing the small ornate box. "Vulkan?" He thumbed it open to reveal the most intricately detailed ring you'd ever seen. Every curve pressed with love and every stone placed with purpose and meaning. "That is why, I wish not only to continue living this life with you as your partner.. but as your husband as well. If you'd have me as such."

You were moving before your brain even registered the movement. "Yes!" You cried arms around his broad shoulders, hugging him so tight. "Yesyesyesyesyesyes!!" You peppered his face with a kiss for every yes and he laughed, holding you tight as he found himself holding back more tears of pure joy. He knew that he would always he happy with you, that his life and hearts would feel so very full with you by his side.

[justastraymoa]

Unwilling Alpha

Chapter 16

WC 3,254 (not including text message pictures)

Masterlist

Warnings ⚠️ swears, abo dynamics, mentions of slave trade, mentions of rape, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, fear, manipulation. Dom/sub vibes in this one briefly.

Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl. Pics off pinterest.

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I came prepared for the overstimulating chaos of hair and makeup. I had my earbuds in and playing my favorite K-pop playlist before the stylist even began. Channie and Lixie sat on either side of me, with earbuds of their own in.

“Go really light on her hair and makeup, please.” Chan asked as my stylists began. I looked at him, shocked. They had been teaching me makeup techniques since my reveal, so I was more used to how I looked in it, but I still went pretty light and avoided changing the shapes of my face too much. “We are more comfortable keeping a natural look on her.”

The stylist scrutinized me for a few seconds. Assessing. “We can do that. We were told casual, so it works well.”

I smiled at Channie in thanks, and he winked back at me. “I gotcha, babe.” He teasingly flirted. It still made me blush and fight not to hide my face.

“Fucking flirt.” I mumbled making Channie chuckle.

The results were better than I had dared to hope. I was actually done before Channie and Lixie and in wardrobe.

This interview and photoshoot were part of a ‘Pride of Australia’ series they had been working on. As such literally everything was Australian made or company based. All clothing was either created by Australian designers or made in Australian companies. All provided food and drink was from Australia, right down to Australian raised cows for the coffee creamer. The employees, cameramen, photographer, and stylists were all Australian.

In fact, I was the only thing or person not Australian, and I felt it. I felt like a foreigner. Which is off to say since I am a foreigner – it’s just the first time I felt it so predominantly.

Channie, Lixie and an official looking and harried worker joined the wardrobe stylist and myself as I was putting on the shoes they provided. I smiled at them, reaching to brush their hands as they passed.

“Markus and Tad are going to do a short interview with y/n first before bringing Chris and Felix in.” The employee started, looking only at the clipboard in their hands. “We are going to go ahead and get y/n set up with a mic and start the interview while Chris and Felix finish getting ready.”

I met Lixies eye and raised an eyebrow. Why was this woman speaking at us like we weren’t all right the fuck here? She wouldn’t even look at us!

Lixie shrugged. “Just go with it.”

Since Channies pants had pockets and mine didn’t I gave him my phone and wallet to hold before following clipboard woman out of the room. It didn’t escape my notice that I was now separated from all my Omegas, and I very much did not like it.

Unlike Channies and Lixies security, who stayed outside, Duri stayed nearby. I figured it was in response to the threats and recent attack, but I didn’t mind. It was comforting to see a familiar face in the hustle of strangers.

The show was filmed in front of a live audience, which took up one side of the room while the stage was on the other. Cameras, boom mikes, chairs, equipment, and workers were in between the two, blocking most of the view of the audience, which kind of confused me.

The stage was set up to look like a city skyline with a frame around where the two hosts currently stood. The skyline was familiar and famous sights around Australia that I recognized, even if I didn’t know the name of most of them.

Markus and Tad both wore tacky bright patterned outfits. I had a feeling they were the outlandish, obnoxious type of hosts that would surely be high energy and way too loud. It had the potential to be a really fun interview.

I smiled wide and joined them when they introduced me, standing in between them when they gestured.

The live audience cheered and both hosts pulled me in for a hug as they welcomed me with wide, toothy smiles and a lot of invading my personal space.

And I was right. They were very loud and very obnoxious, but their energy was infectious. It was just the right amount of too much without going overboard.

“So, the whole world wants to know.” Tad started swinging an arm around to encompass the whole world. “What is it like being Stray Kids Alpha?”

Easy question. “It’s truly wonderful. They are the best and – “ I stopped as Markus waved me off.

“Nah, nah, nah, nah!�� He kept waving and shaking his hands. “We don’t want to hear how great it is! Boring! Tell us the juicy bits!” He ordered.

Thrown off, I struggled to find my train of thought again. Juicy bits? They wanted secrets? “What you see is who they are. Stray Kids have always just been themselves.” I shrugged.

Both men groaned dramatically. “You’re killing me, Alpha! We brought you on specifically to spill the tea!”

“Sorry, the only tea is Seungmin’s teatime.” The hosts and audience laughed at my reference, boosting my ego and confidence a bit.

“Okay, okay. But you all live together, right?”

“Yes. I have my own room that I just decorated before we left for the mini tour.” I knew they were hinting at spicier things. We didn’t need those rumors. “Even here, I have my own hotel room. The kids are very respectful of my personal space.” Mostly true. If I had been uncomfortable with it, they would never have slept in my room. The fact that last night was the first night we slept apart was something no one needed to know but us.

I chuckled awkwardly as Tad groaned again dramatically. I couldn’t give them what I didn’t have. “Tell us about the bonding? It happened rather suddenly, yeah?”

“Very, yeah. We were on a time crunch because of me, so there really was no time for the celebration and fanfare that Stray Kids deserve. I hope to one day make up for it.”

“And im sure you will. I tell you, what we have seen from you so far is truly impressive.”

“That attack at the airport is all anyone can talk about! Scary stuff!” Markus exclaimed.

I nodded in agreement. “I am very lucky I had both security and my Omegas with me.”

“So JYP is taking your safety seriously then?

“Oh yes! I have my own bodyguards and everything. I am definitely safe.”

“That’s good. JYPE has a pretty decent reputation for protecting their idols, at least. It's not as bad as some companies.”

Channie and Lixie were brought out soon after that and the questions went back to lighter topics. Tad and Markus spent a good amount of time trying to get the skinny on me from the boys – who all too happily complied without giving away anything too personal. Just enough to satisfy the hosts. They really were very good at all this stuff. I needed to practice and get better.

After the interview was over and there was the bustle of everyone wrapping up, Tad approached me. His whole being was significantly less now that the show was over.

“Miss l/n. I just wanted to come see if you were really okay after recent events.” He explained.

This question felt more genuine. Like he was actually worried about me and not ratings. “Um – ya know. On edge, but okay.” I answered honestly.

He nodded understandingly. “I have an Alpha of my own, so I understand some of what you are facing.” He began getting a soft look as he thought of his Alpha. “Just being apart was hard for several months and I’m just one Omega. You have eight! It’s truly amazing and inspiring – what you are doing. How well you are doing it.”

My emotions swelled. It was a different feeling to be praised by someone outside of the situation like this. More convincing somehow.

“Thank you. That means a lot. It’s nice to hear.”

With an understanding smile he handed me a post – it note with two phone numbers. “If you ever need anything at all. Even just a question or to vent – we are here for you. Jeff, my Alpha, has been trying to get more in touch with other Alphas in the spotlight like you two. To have a support system for everyone.”

I accepted the paper in awe. The support from an absolute stranger touched something deep. “Would he – would Jeff be upset if I hugged you?” I was mindful of leaving my scent on a bonded Omega that’s not mine, but I also have the need to hug this stranger. This Omega and his Alpha wanted to help me, another stranger, feel more comfortable and not alone in this insane world we live in.

In answer Tad just pulled me in. “He will understand.” He spoke lowly as I wrapped my arms around his ribs and closed my eyes. He patted my back gently and held on until I was ready to let go. A longer hug than what was considered normal, but he could tell I needed it and was willing to oblige.

~

The ride to the photoshoot was oddly quiet. Neither Omega spoke and I was still in my feels over the conversation with Tad. It was actually a good idea. I was in a position to change things for the better. Help other Alphas. I could begin just by getting in touch with the other Alphas withing JYPE and the other companies. Start a support group of my own. To share experiences and advice and even warnings. So, none of us were so alone.

I was in my thoughts all through the second round of hair, makeup, and wardrobe of the day. Too in my head to even be overstimulated or nervous. I was busy making plans for my support group.

I did, however, have to forcibly pull myself into the moment once we got on the photo set. Simple white background and Australian brand/made clothing, just like the interview. There were three pedestal like stools for us to pose on. I was directed to the one in the middle.

“Don’t overthink it or it will come off as stiff and unnatural. Just let it come naturally.” Channie advised without looking at me.

I got my first sense that something was wrong. Neither Omega would meet my eye and had barely spoken a word to me. “Everything okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, fine.” His words were short, clipped. Most definitely not fine.

I looked over at Lixie in question, but all he did was purse his lips and look away from me, not meeting my gaze or offering an explanation for either of their odd behavior.

I shrugged. Maybe they were tired. Or focused on the photoshoot. I crossed my legs at the knee and settled in my stool, which was slightly shorter than the other two. I felt both Omegas close behind me, but they did not touch me. They were purposely avoiding touching me.

The photoshoot started and I relaxed my face into something I hoped looked good. Someone turned on some house music, which made me chuckle. I thought the music was only done in movies. The photographer started snapping, yelling for one or more of us to move or make a different look – mostly me, honestly. But he was being super patient with me, so I didn’t even feel singled out. He is truly a good photographer. Able to make his subjects comfortable.

But about ten minutes in he suddenly put his camera down and stood up. “What’s going on? This is starting to look like an awkward family photo session.” He inquired gesturing to the three of us. “Are you fighting?”

Neither Omega answered right away – which was an answer. I shrugged. “Not as far as I’m concerned. They haven’t said anything.”

“Well, whatever it is, let’s nip it in the bud. This is supposed to be an uplifting piece about two national treasures finding their Alpha!” He lifted his camera again.

When after a few more shots, neither boy was giving any more than before and the atmosphere was more awkward than ever, I had had enough. I snapped to my feet with a huff and turned to them. In their shock of my sudden movement, they forgot they were avoiding looking at me. I glared both down, hands on my hips.

“That is enough! I don’t know what has your panties in a twist, but you’re professionals! Act like it!” I snapped at them. I felt my brain get heavy as a sunk into a more controlling Alpha persona. Letting more instincts than usual take over to exert a dominance over my Omegas that I usually avoided.

The effect was instantaneous. Their pupils blew and their posture stiffened while simultaneously becoming more submissive. And I hated it. This wasn’t the Alpha I wanted to be. It was the Alpha that was needed right now. To knock some sense into them. There was time for guilt later.

“Honestly! You’re acting like petty toddlers!” I continued to chastise them as I went to stand behind them for a pose. I reached around their heads to grip their chins and make them look up at me. “If you have a problem, say something. I can’t read your minds and I’m not begging you to tell me.” I looked first at one, then the other, speaking slowly and firmly. Pausing for the photographer.

I changed poses, turning their faces front again and resting a forearm on each shoulder. “You are the seasoned professionals here, you’re supposed to be helping me, not the other way around! You promised, Felix, and you broke that promise! First Chris breaks my trust by keeping things from me, now you are breaking your promises and leaving me hanging!”

The Omegas slowly started to get their shit together as I kept yelling at them. Their movements were halting and unnatural, but they were putting in an effort.

They both started to help me position and pose. “Honestly. Being so ridiculous over I don’t even know what! Leave your shit off set!” I was on a roll now, a low constant displeased rumble deep in my chest. I felt bad for making the photographers’ job harder because of their shit. I knew what it was like to have uncooperative subjects. To struggle to pull something usable out of them when they just would not give you anything to work with.

Sitting in Chans lap I felt him hide his face in my hair, lips close to my ear. “Alpha.” He almost whined. Hearing him call me so formally brought me up short. His hands, squeezing my waist rhythmically, shook slightly. “Please – im sorry. We’re sorry! Just - let up a little – please. It’s hard – hard to –“ He broke off with a soft whine, really struggling to get his words out.

It took me a second to figure out what he was asking for. Felix almost looked scared. Eyes big, reflective, and shiny as they begged me. Focusing, I quieted the rumble in my chest and let go of the controlling instincts – feeling my brain lighten up again. I was still annoyed as hell at them, just without the added Alpha control. They both visibly relaxed, no longer struggling to do as I asked while submitting to their Alpha.

“Finally. Thought I was going to have to carry this shoot all by myself.” I huffed.

That’s when I realized that besides the music, the room was still and quiet. Even the camera flashes had stopped. I looked around, confused and finally back in the moment around us.

The photographer looked at me in awe. “I’ve never had an Alpha do that. That was intense.” He explained taking a second to flip through the pictures. “The photos are fucking amazing, though, holy shit! I think we got the shots.”

I pointedly removed Chans hands from my waist and stood, making my way to the photographer to apologize and thank him. “I’m not sure what I did, but they are upset with me. This is all still very new to us, so I apologize. We are learning to navigate all this.” I explained while shaking his hand.

“I’m going to be honest with you, these are my all-time favorite photos I’ve ever taken, so I don’t mind at all.” The photographer gestured to his camera. “I was expecting more of a struggle with you since this is your first shoot and you’re also a photographer. But you handled it like a seasoned pro.”

I chuckled. “Thank you for today. And for being so patient. Next time I see you hopefully I’ll be much better at this.”

I practically ran back to the ready room to grab my things and change. Felix stopped me on the way out. “Love, can w-“

I held up a hand to stop him. Both he and Chan were still in their photo outfits, looking ready for a long conversation that I wasn’t. “No. You two didn’t wanna talk when it was time to talk, and I don’t have time now.” I looked at the time anxiously.

“Where are you going?” Chan asked confused. He probably knew my schedule better than I did and knew I had nothing else for today.

“Whether it bugs any of you to be apart or not, it bugs me. I’ve been away from six of my Omegas for too long and I only have a short time before schedules separate us again.” I gestured for them to hurry since we rode together. “I will leave your asses!” I threatened.

While I waited for them, I opened the group chat.

I cursed traffic and slow drivers. Checking my phone every few seconds in frustration and ignoring the tense atmosphere in the car. The awkwardness settles over us. I was not going to be the one to bring it up. This was all on them now.

“Angel, I’m sorry. We fucked up.” Felix finally said.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “That has already been established.”

“I didn’t mean to break my promise. I was being stupid. Jealous.”

“Jealous? Of what?”

Felix looked at Chan for help. “We saw you talking to Tad after the interview.” Chan explained.

“He is bonded to an Alpha who is in the limelight because of him, and they thought since I’m in a similar situation I could use some support.”

“Support how?”

“I have their numbers if I need to talk or vent. Or have a question. Another Alpha who understands our situation and the dangers.” I shrugged. “I didn’t think you would care if I had friends.”

“No, we don’t!” Felix quickly and frantically denied.

“Of course we don’t. It was just…harder than expected. To share you.” Chan tried to explain, searching for the right words.

“That doesn’t explain why you acted that way. Or why you are acting weird now! You still won’t touch me, and you can barely look at me!”

Chan scratched at the back of his neck nervously. “We are still a little…raw, I guess, from earlier. From what you did during the shoot.” He explained. Felix nodded in agreement.

I huffed, feeling the guilt creep in. “Fine. Let me know when you are back to normal. Then we can discuss what really bothered you when I was talking to Tad.” We were getting nowhere like this.

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General Taglist @stellasays45 @beebee18

Unwilling Alpha Taglist: @xxeiraxx @hanniemylovelyquokka @breadedloafs @songleepark @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hyunjinhoexxx @kayleefriedchicken @vietjeb @hityoulikebahng @juju-227592 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @royal-shinigami @bangchansfavoritenoona @straykidslvr @bookswillfindyouaway @h0rnyp0t @Svmmerstime @jennibahng @kpopandmusicpassion @jasmin-loves-k-pop @cookey-lock @possum-playground @demigoddreamon-blog @rei-reia @dreamerwasfound @jasmin-loves-k-pop @ms-flowergirl @princess-sunshyn @technicallyimportantsweets @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @bluesoobinnie @threeopossumsinacoat

[h5eavenly]

Carousel┃H.HJ SMAU

Twenty-Four - If Poetry Was A Person.

playlist; Cherry-lana del rey / the night we met-lord huron

wc: 6.5k

warnings; slightly suggestive, sprinkles of angst.

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You thought about how this day would go all night. Tossing and turning in your bed going through all the possible outcomes of meeting up with Hyunjin. Unlocking the box of memories you had turned a blind eye to you. It wasn’t a pleasant experience to say the least. Drowning yourself in a sea of endless smiles that turned into venomous words. Clawing their way back to your heart and stinging just the same way it did back when you were sixteen and had seen them fall from Hyunjin’s mouth so easily. Like you didn’t mean anything to him. Around 3:00 am, your fingers had hesitated. Itching across the lit screen of your phone and begging you to start typing. To tell Hyunjin forget about this whole stupid thing.

You never send the text, even when your fingers stare back at you in disappointment. As if they too are wondering when you have become a slave to pain.

However, when you’re walking out your house at exactly 10:15 am to see Hyunjin waiting for you, an overwhelming heat surges up your body and regret starts swirling in you. He eyes you lazily, leaning back on his blood red motorcycle. A splash of shocking color in contrast to your pale expensive neighborhood.

“didn’t know you owned a motorcycle.” You comment, stepping forward until only a few inches are separating your bodies. His eyes scan your body, trailing down, they linger on your thigh highs for a second too long but not long to satisfy the hunger he has for you. Just long enough for you to feel a sense of pride. Knowing you made the right choice wearing it.

You watch him, and he watches you. The wall of tension seem to build itself around you, caging you both and swearing to never let you out even when you’re suffocating.

“I didn’t.” he straightens. Running his hand on smooth black leather of the bike, slowly “this is minho’s baby” he explains and you hear him but you’re not really listening. Your eyes follow his fingers, imaginary pictures of those hands being on your body swirls around in your mind, plastering themselves on these walls that only seem to harden the more you see him. It has you flushing. Wrapping your arms around yourself as a wind walks by, evidence of the ever so slowly building cold in the weather.

“I thought you wouldn’t fancy taking the bus.”

“What happened to your car?” You ask, voice soft. Recollections of his blue Nissan Versa that he used to drive around so proudly.

It steals Hyunjin’s breath away. “I sold it.” He answers with no further explanation. An avoidance in his stare when they flit to a random rock on the sideway. A couple of hundred questions tap on the roof of your mouth, screaming to be let out. You swallow them down, reminding yourself that you’re in no place to be inquisitive.

“Shall we get going?” he clears his throat, turning from you and it’s all happens in an instant. The skipping beat of your heart, your longing fingers and you lurching forward. Hyunjin stops in his tracks, a tug on his black jacket has his breath hitching. As if you’re the one who touched him. Feels the hairs on his body stand up in anticipation.

He turns his head, looking back at you. A question in his gaze and a yearning that follows at the pinks of your cheeks. You look so alluring, so tempting his hands itch to touch you. To take you. He ties himself up, tells himself it’s too soon.

You open your mouth and close it a couple of times, unsureness clog your throat. A bigger shadow, a threatening feeling called fear takes over the majority of your brain “I’ve never..” you suck in a deep breath. Your eyes flit to the ground, the heat growing on your cheeks almost overwhelms you. Has you sweating “I’ve never ridden a bike before. I’m kind of scared Hyunjin.” You admit, tone vulnerable and shy.

It has Hyunjin’s heart swelling in his chest. It weakens him, as if you’re holding gun right at his heart and the minutes ticks by agonizingly slow. Your eyes flicker to his and there goes your finger. Pulling the trigger. blood from his heart droops out into a pathetic pool under you. “It’s okay,” he breaths out, facing you and your fingers loosen. Letting go of him and he finds himself wishing you wouldn’t.

He moves to get closer to you. The height of the sidewalk giving you a few inches yet he still towers over you. Reminding you again of how much smaller you are to him. You will yourself not to look away from him. Even when his hands reach for you, his fingers brush an out of place strand of your hair. He tucks it behind your ear “I got you,” he whispers in the gray space between you. His words loop around looking for a place to stay only to linger sadly, aimlessly. You let out a shaky exhale.

His knuckles brush your cheek softly. Cosplaying a sweet lover you know he will never be. completely opposite to how rough his hand is. An evidence of how hard his days has been “I just have to show you what it’s really like.” An underlining meaning pokes at you. The smirk that tilts his pink lips upwards only confirms it. You feel like a pervert who has been exposed even though nothing had come out of your mouth.

“Maybe I should change my clothes.” You mumble, your bottom lip juts out in a small pout. His eyes darken a shade. An overwhelming need swallows him. He wishes to take your lips into a bruising kiss. A promise of breaking you down that he only hopes you’d be willing to take.

“Don’t. I like your outfit.” His thumb brushes under your bottom lip. Faintly and it has you growing dizzy. How easy it is for him touch you. It feels like nothing has changed. Like months of poison like emotions didn’t build for him and like he wasn’t wasting his time finding new routes just to avoid the possibility of running into you.

“I’m gonna flash the entire neighborhood trying to get on that thing.” You complain, a whine laces your tone that you aren’t so aware of. Aren’t aware of the effect it has on Hyunjin.

“I’ll actually kill myself if you do that.” He says so seriously. Expression blank that your lips can’t help but form into a playful smile. The walls of tension seem to get tighter around you. He watches your fingers trail down your skirt. Grabbing the end of your skirt, his hand circle your wrist. Halting your movements “Don’t. I’m serious.” Hyunjin’s eyes narrow. A warning in his tone that has your stomach tying itself in knots. Pushing to tempt him more. Argue with his buttons until he can’t anymore.

But you decide against it. Reminding yourself this isn’t what this date is about. If you could even call it that.

“Let’s go. I’ll help you get on.” You nod wordlessly. His arm circles your waist leading you towards his bike. You throw your leg over the seat, one hand balancing itself on Hyunjin’s shoulder while the other is holding your skirt from rising up.

Somehow you misplace one of your feet, the heel of your boot offers no support, and it slips. A gasp escapes your lips. Your fingers desperately clutch onto the pads of his jacket “woah easy,” he cautions. His arms pull you towards him, impossibly closer. His other hand is on the exposed skin of your thigh. Holding you in place. His short nails slightly scratch the skin, leaving a burning sensation behind. With the spinning of your mind you aren’t sure if that is the punishment of his touch or if he left a reddening mark behind. You hope it’s the latter.

“you okay?” you nod mutely.

He helps you on the bike, his hand lingers on your thigh. A ghost of his fingers trails the inside of your thigh. You want to swat his hand away, You want to glare at him. Throw your usual snarky comments to him but you’re blank. Tongue heavy in your mouth. You try to convince yourself it’s all misplaced touches but the way his lips are slowly pulling into that knowing half smirk full of trouble and charm, you know that’s not the case.

“So where are we going?” you ask his back, a pathetic attempt to calm the murderous beating of your heart. Trying to shush the calling of Hyunjin’s name “I booked us two tickets to an art gallery.” He answers, turning to face you with a helmet between his hands. You will yourself not to focus on the way his fingers move when he’s adjusting the straps “art gallery?” you repeat in question. He hums back, a sound so similar to a melody your heart would love to sing to. He fixes your hair for you again, patting the top of your head to calm down any hairs that were messed up by the wind “Didn’t you tell me you had a project with Yuna? I thought that would help.” He explains, fitting the helmet onto your head.

“oh.” His eyes dart down to you, a question lingers in the lock of your eyes but none of you speak. He turns away from you to put his own helmet on. You burn, wondering what his deal is.

He swings his leg over, climbing onto the motorcycle with so much ease that it has you a little embarrassed “You ready?” he asks turning to look at you as he pushed up the visor. You shake your head in rising panic, the sound of engine reminds you of your beating heart “I’m really scared Hyunjin.” Your wide eyes, glinting like they never lost their spark, like you were still teenagers has Hyunjin dizzy. The dusted pink of your cheek because of how cold it is has him swallowing around nothing. Your beauty was unmatched, not like anything he had ever seen.

“it’s okay,” he finds himself whispering for you repeatedly, afraid he’ll break you if he speaks any louder “just hold onto me” he instructs as he grips your smaller hand in his, guiding it around his waist. The feeling of his hard abdomen throws you in a different loop of panic “yeah?” he waits for you, seconds pass by you and then you’re nodding. He shakes in disapproval, a tsk out of his lips almost has you squirming on the leather seats “talk to me I need to hear your voice.”

“okay.” You whisper in faux coldness clinging to the edge of your voice, desperately trying not to lie down in this puddle of emotions and beg Hyunjin to take you. You didn’t know what exactly you were waiting, hoping for.

But the ever so rare kindness of him pulls on your heartstrings so easily. Completely washing over every scar that was originally caused by him. You aren’t sure if you were easy or just has your body foolishly missed the touch of your first love.

A scream left your lips as Hyunjin suddenly revved the engine and the motorcycle lurched forward, a chuckle bubbles in his chest when your arms tighten around him as your journey to the art gallery begins.

Once you’ve arrived, you’re a little breathless mostly due to your subsiding fear but deep in the pits of your soul you know it’s because your palm had wandered. A mind of their own until it ended up sprawled on Hyunjin’s chest. You could still feel the beat of his heart tattooed on your palm. Questioning if it was for you or was the rush of adrenaline a better candidate.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it princess?” Hyunjin mocks, a glint in his dark eyes as he takes off his helmet. Outstretching his palm to you. You scowl “I almost died, asshole.”

He laughs, freeing butterflies you didn’t know you had kept trapped in cages within your stomach. His impatience takes control when you refuse to take his hand. Reaching for you, he circles your wrist tattooing himself on you once again “I told you,” Your pulled into his chest, an innocence douses the gaze in your eyes while his only seem to wither in darkness “I got you.” He reminds you of his earlier words, a promise he keeps.

You huff out a breath, freeing your wrist from him and your eyes from the shackles of his demons “whatever, let’s just go.” You turn away from him, hurrying across the parking lot while Hyunjin follows is lazy strides. Eyes lingering everywhere on the back of your body. A foreboding glint in his eye.

Your feet taps in running patience on the ground, watching as Hyunjin hands the tickets to the receptionist. If the overdoing of her batting her eyelashes and the twirling of hair between her fingers is anything to go by, it isn’t hard to tell that she’s trying to flirt with him. Hyunjin in complete oblivion only furrows his eyebrow in growing confusion at the seemingly endless chatter of her. Despite the twig of jealousy you feel you find yourself unable to blame her.

You watch as her eyes darting between you and Hyunjin. Him nodding at her before he’s finally walking to you without much expression “she asked me if we were together.” He informs you when he’s close enough.

“Is that so?”

“She also said if I need anything I can talk to her,” he starts walking and you follow closely behind “so she’s trying to fuck you.” He stops in his stride, looking back at you with an arched brow “where did you get that from?”

You stare at him blankly, wondering if this is an act he’s pulling or if he’s serious. The momentary silence has you chuckling, Turning your head to the side to hide your smile. His eyes follow you, his body betrays him. Hoping for a glimpse of your face “come on Hyunjin, she’s a receptionist what else could you need from her?”

“Directions?”

“Uh huh,” you reply sarcastically, continuing your walk past him as he this time follows you close “I’m sure in this big ass gallery it would make sense to walk all the way back to the receptionist for directions.” You throw him a look over your shoulder, your hair is thrown over your shoulder and even now in midst of pieces among pieces of art you manage to be the prettiest piece of art he had ever seen.

“You don’t look too happy,” you comment when he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, absentmindedly “why would I be happy about that?”

“Because a girl wants to fuck you? Isn’t that what it takes to make a guy happy.”

“I’m not like the other guys.” You roll your eyes at him, stopping by a painting of the sun going down. He stops right beside you “I’m 5’10 and I hate Andrew Tate by the way.” You try to hold back your laugh, biting down on your fuller bottom lip. He stares at you, scrutinizing your futile attempts at holding back your giggles. It doesn’t last long before you’re breaking down in heavenly like laughter, your hand comes up to cover your mouth while the other pushes uselessly at his shoulder “stop.” You whine.

Hyunjin doesn’t budge, his expression softens at your beauty. Breathtakingly unfair. That even when your laughter dies down, an awkwardness settles between as your eye contact lasts a second too long. Long enough for your heart to starts calling for him. Praying for an answer back.

It's four hours later that when you’re emerging from the building, the unforgiving sun warms up the coldness of the weather around you. You hug your body, a bounce in your walk as you try to follow up with Hyunjin. The tightness of your skirt and height of your heels giving you a disadvantage. Sensing your absence he pauses in his tracks, looking over his shoulder at you.

Watching you try to catch up to him in your smaller and weaker body has his thoughts darkening. Eyes narrowing. It’s a weird urge, a temptation of the devil that whispers to him about how he should make you his. It hits him out of nowhere, has him lost in thought that it takes him a minute to realize you made it next to him. A puzzled look at his silence.

So naïve.

“Having trouble, princess?” he taunts, swallowing back his desires. You huff, annoyance quickly taking over your pretty features.

“Shut up.” Your curled fist means to punch his shoulder but he catches it in his palm, fingers curling around your wrist instead and in one swift movement he pulls you into his chest. Your nose is buried in his cream colored neck, drowning in the scent of peaches.

“Do I need to do everything for you? Need me to carry you?” he taunts, a mean edge to his voice that has you weak in the knees for reasons you don’t wanna think about. You rake your brain trying to find something to say but the engines in your head seem to malfunction every time you’re one step closer to this man “Hmm?” He urges for an answer that you cannot give. Eyes eager.

You shake your head dumbly, not finding your voice and Hyunjin eyes gleam with satisfaction. Expected you to fight back. He rewards you with the brush of his thumb on your pulse.

“Come on,” he tugs on your wrist gently, urging you to follow him “there’s one more place I want to take you.”

It gives you whiplash; how easy it is for him to switch. He’s mean but then he’s gentle and he toys with the line so expertly it leaves you thirsty for more. Discovering sides of you that you didn’t know were in you all along. So, when you’re finally at his bike, he hands you, your helmet. You stand still, chewing on your bottom lip in something akin to shame.

Your fingers curl around his jacket just like this morning, halting his movement and he looks back at you over his shoulder, pleasure evident in the curl of his smirk “Mhm?”

“Do you-“ you exhale “do you think you could help me on the bike again?” awkwardness seeps into your fingers. He pauses at your cheeks turning pink, you’re turning your head, trying to bury it in your shoulder in shyness and Hyunjin eyebrows drop. Eyes drinking the sight of you, and he’s hungry.

“Of course, kitten.” The endearment has you curling on yourself. Hyunjin feels like a sadist because you squirming under his dark eyes might be his new favorite thing.

“Come here,” he whispers to you softly, coaxing you into the lion’s den and just like a naïve hopeless bunny you follow. You take his hand; his other arm circles your waist in a familiar scene to this morning and with more ease you climb onto the bike.

“Do you need me to help you with this too?” he gestures to the helmet with a tilt of his chin. With burning cheeks, glazed eyes that are stuck on your lap you nod. Hyunjin’s eyes narrow, burning holes in the top of your head. His index finger is on your chin guiding you to look up at him “I didn’t catch that, pretty.”

The thoughts of the torrential rain of sensations has you burning in shame and need. A need that you weren’t even aware you wanted till you locked eyes “yes please,” you breath out and Hyunjin smiles as if he’s proud of you. He fits the helmet onto your head with pleasure dripping from his fingers.

“Woah.” You speak in awe, the scent of ocean invades your nostrils. Welcoming you right where you belong. You get off the bike. A gleaming smile taking its claim on your face and like a madman drowning in love Hyunjin watches you light up with excitement.

“Let’s go. Come on!” you urge, a bounce in your step that has him melting like candle wax. You’re cute. Perhaps a little too cute for his own liking.

“Hold on,” he orders, pulling on your wrist and leading you to sit back on the leather of his bike. You look at him puzzled, a question dying at the tip of your tongue when he kneels in front of you. His fingers move to untie your shoelace “you wanna feel the water, no?” He speaks as he pulls on the strings. You stare at him silently. His act of gentleness leaving you dizzy with emotions you refuse to name. The words you want to say are listless and without control.

His hands are on the back of your leg as he pulls your boot off, it goes with ease. At your silence, he looks back up and you’re both taken aback by the moment you find yourselves in. The wind plays through your hair, strands flying away from your face and your eyes take him back to when you were still in love with him. When he still burned for you and didn’t have to deny his need for you.

“Do you pity me, Hyunjin?” you ask carefully, hoping for an answer that will kill off this unyielding hope in you yet needing one that will help it bloom.

“Why would I pity you Y/N?” you give a non-committal shrug “Do you feel sorry for me? Because of everything I told you?” you ask in a small voice, overwhelmed by the unjust reality of his small actions.

“I don’t feel sorry for you Y/N.” his voice is unwavering, confident in ways that will only confuse you more. Did he enjoy keeping you on the tips of your toes or were you a foolish individual stolen away by the charm of Hwang Hyunjin.

“You don’t believe me?” he presses, squeezing your leg lightly. You avoid his eyes, gaze lost on the sea behind him. He follows in desperate attempts to catch them “Why are you being so nice to me then? Taking care of me like this?” you ask, unconvinced. He lets out a breath, his hand reluctantly moves upwards and squeezes gently just right under your knee, his thumb rubs soothing circles on your clad skin.

“I can’t be nice to you unless I’m pitying you?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You pout “I just wanna make you feel better,” he explains gently as if he sees the thorns of anxiety that are slowly curling around you. His hand keeps inching upwards until he rests his palms at your thigh “You don’t like it when I take care of you?” he hums softly, and you shake your head. Feeling like a kid who’s too immersed in their feelings to grasp the reality of anything that’s going around them.

“I do,”

“Good.” He smiles up at you “because I like taking care of you too. It’s what I always do for you remember?”

But you loved me back then.

Are words that end up stuck in your throat with nowhere to really go. Dying down along with a million other things you wish to say, you wish to ask but they all fall hopelessly, curling right next to your blue pool of sadness that only seem to grow bigger. You plunge yourself in it. Hoping to drown and maybe then none of this will matter anymore.

“Should I take off your thigh highs too?” Hyunjin asks when the silence between you stretches.

You nod “Please.” Voice doused in vulnerability that he only seems to see. Yet you remain inattentive to the demons he’s fighting against. All the little voices that are screaming for him to lunge forward, take you into his arms and never let go. His mind tells him that this is the only choice, he won’t have to look for you in others. Won’t have to feel disappointment that none of them are on par with you.

He keeps his eyes locked with you as his fingers slowly itch upwards leaving behind a trail of flowers that will surely wither and die. Because he won’t be able to water them, won’t be there to touch you again like this. His fingers hook into the top of your thigh highs, the feeling of his cold fingers against your skin has you slightly jumping, mouth open in a quiet gasp. And Hyunjin eats it up like a starved man. He basks in it, the way you react to his touch. The flutter of your eyelashes when he pulls the soft fabric down and down, down. Like he’s stealing your sanity away with him. His gaze is dark upon you as he moves to your other leg. Making a show that its only purpose is to torture you. He’s addicted. To the glazing of your eyes, the blushing you and he wants nothing more to control it, to witness you lose all autonomy.

“Thank you,” you whisper to him when he successfully takes the second off. Shoving them into your abandoned boots he doesn’t move from his position. His thumb brushes strokes of sugary love onto your leg. the feel of your bare skin beneath his fingertips is vertiginous. Your skin is silky, smooth but more than anything intoxicating.

“You’re welcome, pretty.” his voice more than a whisper but incredibly devilish to your ears. And even now, when he's the one at his knees for you, you feel like you’re at his mercy. A wrong move of just his thumb and you’d be breaking down.

“Go ahead, pretty.” His voice is demanding despite the softness lacing it “enjoy the sea.” He allows you to move and just like a controlled puppet you find yourself nodding. Eyes blinking at him in obedience he only ever dreamt of witnessing. Hyunjin senses something unfurling in the depths of his stomach.

A pat of his palm on your leg has you moving.

You run towards the waves of water, leaving a mountain of tension and empty promises behind you. Hyunjin lingers, swims in his pain a little longer as he watches a magnificent grin take its place on your face. A joy that only seems to take over you when you’re by the sea.

You look back at him, a squeak forcing itself out of your mouth when your feet touch the water “it’s so cold jinnie!” you yell at him, unaware of the magic word that had slipped out of your mouth. He’s drunk on the way it makes him feel, the way you call his name, and he is bewitched by you. He’s sure that in your past life you must have been a fairy with magic powers, you must have fallen for him, and you must have cast a spell on him. A spell that seems to be unbreakable and that will haunt him throughout all his lives.

“Be careful!” He warns, when he watches you twirl around, water splashes around you and onto your clothes. He wonders if the droplets of water are as weak as him, enamored by your beauty and are clinging to you like he seem to cling to you. He walks towards you with lazy slow stride. Following your messy footprints on the sand. Marking his pathway to you once again.

 A cigarette he just lit rests between his pink lips. A pathetic attempt to relief the stress of the force that is you.

He stops right before the crashing waves, keeping a good distance between him and the water. Hands in his pockets as the wind tickles his hair. You twirl around, laughter erupting from your chest and when you face him. The sun is slowly starting to set behind you, coloring the sky into a hue of orange and lilac. You flatter, your smile slowly starts to disappear and melts into that ever so building tension between you two. He curls his fists, pulling at the leash of his desires. He wants nothing but to go there and ruin you. Instead, he pretends to be good. Puts on a fake façade of the Hyunjin you deemed a stranger and hopes for his feelings to fly away with the smoke of his nicotine stick.

Upon the sand, he finally settles down and watches you like a silent movie as you start heading towards him. As if you’re a lost soul wandering around for their home. You sit beside him; a trail of quietness follows.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” He speaks after a while, tone soft completely opposite to the shimmering waves catching purple diamonds in the folds of it.

You look at him, eyes studying his face with a furrow of bewilderment at his question. It takes a minute for you to click in, eyes widen in recognition as you look around you. The sand, the water and even the sky are all witnesses to back you up.

“No way!” a grin spreads across your face, your hands lurch forward in bubbling excitement and then they’re touching him, shaking him as if he was the one who forgot “it was here wasn’t it!”

He nods, eyes fond and expression soft not particularly at your excitement but rather a raw reflection of his emotions. It settles in your bones, spreading warmth through your entire body and you retract your hands with a shaky breath. As if you were burned.

He misses your touch already.

“Did you bring us here on purpose?” he shakes his head, his hair playing in the wind, and you fight the urge to reach forward, bury your hand in his blonde strands “Believe it or not I didn’t. this was just the closest beach to the gallery.”

You bring your knees to your chest, hugging them when the memories come rushing back to you like a tempest. An overwhelming storm of emotions twirls inside you and more images of you and Hyunjin flash in your mind.

Hyunjin kissing you.

Hyunjin touching you.

Hyunjin telling you he loves you forever and always.

Forever and always… You can’t help but wonder where did all that love go? Did it dissipate into thin air? And if it did how come your being is still here and why haven’t you vanished and became one with the air just like his feelings. He’s next to you but he’s not the same and you’re not the same. And that alone sends a surge of sadness, claiming over your fragile heart. It is such a weird feeling to mourn over someone who’s alive and breathing.

“Do you remember how we met?” his hand hangs awkwardly between you, wondering if he’s allowed to touch you like he had done all day. The more he does it the weaker he becomes. The softness of your eyes gives him strength and he cups your face, guiding your gaze to meet his “You threw a fucking ball at my head,” despite the vulgar usage of words your voice is soft.

“I did,” he smiles, eyes glazed over as the memory washes over him too “and then what?”

“You didn’t even apologize, just picked up your ball glared at me and then left,” you reminisce, a painful nostalgia enveloping your words. He lets out a breathy chuckle, running his thumb in a tender caress across your cheek “can you blame me? I was shocked.” He smiles and the gesture brings you to his lips, rosy, and so inviting.

“Shocked by what?” you trail off, eyes fixated on his lips.

“By how my ball managed to hit the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” A tentative warmth courses through your being, a subtle blaze that ignites your cheeks in a shade of crimson. He speaks it like it’s a fact, nothing to be surprised over but you choke. On his gaze, on his words and on your own feelings that keep hitting these walls aimlessly.

“What happened after that?” His hands slip down, cradling your jaw in a gesture that speaks of longing.

“A week later you saw me in the hallway,” your heart beats loudly in your ears, drowning out the sound of the waves nearby.

“I did,”

“And you came over to me and introduced yourself and asked me how my head was” you finish quietly, the weight of the memories crushes you. Leaving you nothing but a pathetic and fragile mess under it. Remaining pieces of who you used to be someday.

“A fucking week later.” he groans in disbelief, and you hadn’t realized how close his face was until the smell of his breath hits you, mint, and cigarettes smoke. “I was such a moron.”

“You were.” You respond breathlessly. a need unfurls within you, the more your eyes stare at his lips “I thought you were cute.” You confess, a lump forms in your throat.

“You did?” he asks between the untainted space you hold, none of you move refusing to color it red with your sorrow. You look up, almost closing your eyes painfully at the rare vulnerability in his voice. And when he looks down at you like he never stopped loving you. Something in you breaks because it’s not real. He looks at you like there aren’t years’ worth of scars you need to heal from like he doesn’t know the darkness that surrounded you. Was he blind or was he just not scared of you anymore?

A yearning that eclipses the delicate boundaries of restraint has your eyes tearing up in emotions much bigger than whatever that’s left from your broken relationship. You don’t want to cry, at least not now and not in front of him and that’s why you take a shaky breath in. Free yourself from his hold and stand up, ignoring the look of disappointment and hurt that washes over his face. Hyunjin retracts his hand, curling and brings it to his chest as if the rejection had hurt him physically.

As night settles around you, enveloping everything in darkness you’re aware your limited time is already coming to an end. You take hesitant steps towards the water. When you turn to face him, he’s already standing as if he too is aware of the ticking clock.

“Can I ask you something?” you speak, shattering the pregnant silence around you. He feeds on the look on your face, the softness of your eyes.

“Yeah?”

“If you could go back and change the past,” you take a step forward, your body fights against the resistance of the water “would you do it?” Your question is coated in mystery. You do realize that. You’re toying with a thin rope that could turn on you and choke you but you’re greedy. Your heart yearns for more, cries for more and this is the least you could give back.

“Yeah.” Hyunjin doesn’t hesitate, answers so easily it almost makes you wanna cry. You want nothing but to curl into a ball and let all this pain out somehow. Or maybe turn around and throw yourself into the darkest pits of the ocean hoping to disappear and maybe be reborn into a world where you won’t have to fight. You could just rest. You wish for a way to be somewhere where you don’t have to suffer. In a way that you can be with him over and over again despite the way it hurts.

It is in this mere moment while cold catches up to you, hugging your body you realize you never left this beach ever since you were sixteen. All along you had nestled yourself here and waited for Hyunjin to come back. A tranquil hush falls over you, the impossible lump forms in your throat again. You forcibly try to swallow it down but it only comes back harder.

Your eyes glisten with unshed tears and just like when you were sixteen. The sea, stars and night are all witnesses to the pain tattooed on your heart, witnesses to the curse you set on Hyunjin and the unbreakable wall of unburied feelings between you two.

The ride to your home is quiet, the beating of Hyunjin’s heart seems to water hope in routes you thought you closed in your heart. Both of you are lost in thought of what today could mean for you. It isn’t long before he comes to a stop right outside your expensive house. The turned-on lights are evidence of your mother being awake has you withering away in disappointment. The fairytale you lived today is coming to an end.

You linger by Hyunjin’s bike, your feet kick a random rock while he leans on it. The same scene from earlier morning. He eyes you, drinking in the way your cheeks develop a beautiful red blush the longer he stares. As if his eyes are as unforgiving as your beauty.

If poetry was a person, it would be you.

“Thank you for today.” You mumble shyly, the quietness of your street aiding your soft voice.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He’s lost in thought, obvious in the way his words tumble out without much emotion behind it.

“I’ll see you around.” You lie. Turning around to head for the door. He reaches for you, a too familiar scene that you guys had lived before “wait,” his fingers hold onto yours, gently and it tickles your skin. You exhale, facing him with a quirk of your eyebrow.

“Can I ask you something too?” you nod, your fingers curl around his, another pang of pain hits him right in the chest. He succumbs completely to the need he feels. Deems it hopeless to fight against this incredible force that is you.

“If you could go back, would you change the past?” he redirects your own question back at you and it surprise you. Has you biting on your bottom lip in an anxious manner but then he’s reaching for you, his thumb brushes right under your lip. Adding slight pressure to free your lips “Don’t do that. You’ll hurt yourself.” His eyes are fixated on your lips. His tongue darts out to wet his own and you’re breathless. Your dewy eyes flicker to his lips, Hyunjin feels ten million matches lighten up soul.

“I would,” you answer, your nails graze the inside of his palm. Leaving traces of your touch, your scent behind that will surely leave him wide awake. Wondering where everything went wrong. You smile at him, an all too faked smile that he memorized so well. Kept it buried in the back of his mind so every time he missed you, he’d remind himself. You didn’t even smile at him like he’s worth it.

And Hyunjin realizes he will forever be imprisoned in this jail of yours.

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[minefield-of-a-ninja]

CHAPTER FOUR: BREATH PLAY

*image of Jensen Ackles is used with permission of the photographer Mandi Lea Photography.

Summary for this chapter: The things they don't want from each other are just as loud as the things they do.

Characters in this chapter: Brandy Miller x Soldier Boy

Warnings/tags in this chapter: 18+ ONLY, explicit sexual content, queening/breath play (no choking), anal play/rimming, drug use (smoking weed and implied cocaine), no condom, dirty talk

Words in this chapter: 3k

Author’s notes: This fills my #Breath Play square for @jacklesversebingo

Thank you, @brrose-apothecary, @stunudo, and @talltalesandbedtimestories for holding my hand and for your patience with my histrionics

Spotify Playlist - key songs this chapter: “Need You Tonight” by INXS, “Hem Of Your Garment” by CAKE, “Pepper” by Butthole Surfers, “I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE” by Måneskin

CHAPTER FOUR: Breath Play

I exhale, and my skin begins to cool as I blink and shake my head to clear the malaise. I reach for the throw on the back of his couch to warm myself. He’s banging around in his kitchen, presumably for food. The thought of him preparing food is batshit to me. 

His couch is leather. I just realized that. This space feels like a hotel suite — aesthetically pleasing, with satisfactory creature comforts, but impersonal and detached. When you check out of a hotel, no matter how good the coffee or lush the bedding, you leave at 10 AM and go about your life without a second thought.

I hear his voice in the kitchen, but he isn’t talking to me; he’s talking to Siri. Soft music begins to play from an invisible sound system, and I close my eyes and breathe. 

I don’t want to date. I don’t want a relationship. I don’t know if I ever will, after realizing how disconnected I was from myself and Eric, even after so many years together, sharing a home and a mortgage. I just don’t know if I’m cut out for intimacy.

But Amber told me to use this experience, to use him to push past this thing, whatever it is, that’s paralyzed me for months. She trusted me. I need to trust myself.

BJ returns from the kitchen with a large sandwich cut in quarters and some grapes.

He is so cruelly handsome. He looks soft and sated, walking barefoot to the couch with food and a bottle of wine like some stupefying romance novel hero. I’ve never liked romance novels.

“Don’t get too excited; I got DoorDash, but I do know my wine.”

“I would expect nothing else,” I reply as he walks around the coffee table. 

“How’re you doin’ over there?” He shoots me a wry look as he sets the platter on the table in front of us and fills a couple of goblets before handing one to me.

I accept, swirl, and sniff. “Honestly, I’m a little-” I pause to take a sip, and the wine slowly warms me from the inside out. “I’m trying to connect the dots in my head.

“Dots,” he sighs, dropping to the couch beside me and taking a long drink, looking everywhere but at me. “We about to have The Talk?”

“Like I’m gonna get answers from you? I can have thoughts that don’t require your manly expertise to suss out.”

He clenches his jaw and tilts his head, glaring at the wall. 

“I’ll be fine, that was just- intense.”

He nods, then peeks at me from the corner of his eye. “Fuck drunk?” He shrugs. “I get it.”

My eyebrows jump. “You get it, like get it?”

“Yeah. Not on a real dick, but I had a girl who used a strap on me from time to time. I like it. Next time, we’ll use my fingers or a dildo so I can edge you for an hour without worrying about coming all over your pretty face.” He winks, relaxing into the BJ I’m used to.

“Yeah, no coming on my face, Captain America.”

He huffs and shakes his head, taking another obscenely large drink of his $200 Bordeaux.

“But, uhh, you took a strap-on? I’m- impressed?” I reach for one of the sandwich pieces and take a bite.

“Sex is good. I like it all.” He gives me a pointed look. “You do, too.”

He’s playing all the right cards and holding the others close to his vest, biding his time to get what he wants from me. I idly wonder why me, but then again, I’m here with him, and the dots slowly start linking in my mind.

“Ya know,” he shifts to lean back against the arm of the couch, kicking one long leg up and tucking his bare foot behind my back. “We’ve got a connection; it’s not so wild.” 

I narrow my gaze and drop my chin to my chest. “Don’t start trying to convince me we have a connection now; we don’t even like each other.”

“Not that kind of connection. It’s energy and eroticism and craving.”

My insides quiver at his look, the words he uses, and his enunciation of each syllable. I take another sip of my wine to settle my nerves.

“OK, not The Talk, but,” I kick my stilettos to the side and mirror his posture from the opposite end of the couch, sliding a foot under his thigh. “I do have a few questions.”

He arches a brow and eyes my foot under his thigh before returning his gaze to mine with a nod.

“You have a son.”

“I do.”

“Are you married?” 

“Twice. Failed miserably.” He finishes his wine and reaches for the bottle to refill his glass. “My ex-wives hate me, and my son will barely look me in the eye. I’m unreliable, adulterous, and selfish. I’m not a relationship guy, Brandy.”

I roll my eyes and sigh. “Just because I was choking on your dick 10 minutes ago doesn’t mean I want to be seen in public with you. I just wanna be sure I’m not wrecking any homes.”

“No home to wreck. I can make you see God, but no one’s gotta know about it, no one’ll give a shit, anyway.”

He’s remorseless. ‘No one will give a shit’ is a pity statement, but not coming from him. He is joyfully unburdened.

“You are deeply damaged.”

He barks a laugh. “That I am. I’m an enigma, baby.”

“But I have no interest in trying to puzzle you out and put you back together.”

He meets my eyes with fire. “Good.”

I finish my sandwich and glass of wine in silence, except for the generic, soft sounds from the music in the background. Once my glass is empty, I set it aside, then crawl across the couch to climb astride him. 

“You ready to go again?” 

I drop my eyes for a beat before meeting his again as I reach around my back and unclasp my bra, letting it slide down my arms and tossing it to the coffee table with a hint of a smile and a nod of affirmation.

His juts his chin, reaching to cup and squeeze my breasts while I shift and swivel my hips enough to gain some friction against my clit. This is pleasure and balance. I’ll get what I want from him and he from me.

“You’ve got great tits,” he mutters, slowly pulling my nipples taut.

“And you’ve got the prettiest face.” I caress his smooth cheek and jaw. “Can’t wait to ride this masterpiece.”

He licks his bottom lip, dragging his hands up and down my sides. “Wanna do that now?”

“Yes, I do,” I reply, climbing higher as he slides down to settle his head on the seat cushion so I can center myself over his mouth. 

He presses his lips to the sheer crotch of my panties, fingers trailing the backs of my thighs and calves. His hot tongue wets the fabric before he blows cool air across it, and I moan.

I drop a hand to the top of his head and gently fist his hair. “Good boy,” I whisper, slowly undulating against his mouth and nose.

“Mmm, turn around so I can get at all this,” he directs, lightly smacking my ass. “And get those panties off. I want you bare and open, and smothering my face.”

I snort a laugh but follow his instructions, shimmying out of the scrap of lace and strings. “For real? Like you want me to cut off your air.”

He nods, snapping his fingers for me to hurry up. “I’ll snap if it’s too much.”

“Okay,” I reluctantly agree, mounting him backwards and letting him situate me. 

He tucks his face between my legs, nose between my cheeks and mouth on my bare pussy. I hover over him, knees denting the couch cushion, as he kisses and licks my smooth lips, using a thumb and finger to open my slit and tease my clit. 

I breathe and relax, touching myself, stroking my skin, and tweaking my nipples. He’s so turned on that his cock is tenting his pants. His lips and fingers skate and dance around my clit, and his jaw provides velvety reassurance to my inner thighs. I never want to get off this ride.

“Please don’t grow your beard back, my god.”

He chuckles between licking and sucking my clit then slipping his tongue inside. My quads burn from trying not to put too much weight on him and staying upright, so I slant forward, resting my head on his thigh and nuzzling the bulge in his pants.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, having a new angle, and his tongue swipes up between my cheeks to circle and press my back hole. 

He pulls my cheeks apart and slides the flat of his tongue from top to bottom, back and forth, rapidly flicking across my clit on the upside. When he nips at the thin skin around my hole, I jolt against his face, and he grunts, wrapping an arm around my hips to hold me there.

I’ve never felt anything so wet and warm and all-consuming. BJ Davis redefines eating out. 

I rear back to show him that I like it, and he grunts again, but there’s no snap. His mouth is like a hot whirlpool, swirling and sucking. “What’re you doing to me?” I moan, grinding his face. 

I pop his button and unzip his zipper, reach inside and grip his cock tight. I can’t focus on anything except the singular pleasure of his mouth and the heat of his smooth cock in my hand. I mindlessly lick and pump him as my insides whirl and tighten. 

Heat and tension expand from my gut to my toes and fingertips. My neck and cheeks are on fire, and I gasp for air, rutting against his beautiful face as everything explodes.

Somewhere in my haze, I hear him snap his fingers, and I slump forward. He grips my thighs, pumps his hips, and spills over my fist.

“Holy,” he breathes. “I promise not to grow my beard back if you promise to keep this wax job, fuck.”

I chuckle and slide off of him. My legs are wobbly, and my thighs and nylons are sticky with sweat and cum. “What a mess.”

He laughs as I wander over to the table for my bag. 

“I have to pee.”

“Down the hall on the left.” He sits up and fastens his pants.

I nod and make my way to his bathroom. I strip off my thigh-highs, clean up, comb my hair, reapply some oils in all the right places, and change into my knicker set, a robe, and feathery slippers. When I return to the living room, he’s eating a sandwich and scrolling on his phone. 

He looks up and grins. “Damn. Red does you right.”

I drop my bag in a side chair before settling back on the couch. “Now what?”

“You should eat more,” he says with a mouthful of sandwich before dropping his phone to the table.

“I’m not hungry.”

He rolls his eyes. “Then drink some water. I brought you a bottle.”

“What’re you, my mom?”

“No, but I don’t want you passing out on me, either.”

“Because you’re such a big, strong man, you’re gonna wear me out? Jesus-”

“Brandy?” he cuts me off with a razor’s edge in his voice and his eyes. “No more shit talk.”

I shut my mouth and nod. 

He holds my gaze for a beat before wiping his hands on a napkin and heading toward the hall. “I gotta take a piss.” 

When I hear the bathroom door close, I reach for the bottle of water on the table, crack it open, and gulp it down before picking up my abandoned sandwich to eat. 

I remind myself again that I want to be here, and if I want to get what I came for. It’s no secret to either of us that we are not a love match; I’m just belaboring the point by poking the bear. 

As he returns to the living room, he changes the music to something more upbeat. 

“Refill?” He asks with a sniff, filling my glass before I answer. He swipes his glass from the table and starts to move to the beat of the music, bobbing his head and moving his feet.

“You like INXS?” I ask, genuinely surprised. I took him for more of a Kid Rock fan, but I keep that slight to myself.

“I’m Gen X, Applejack, ‘course I like INXS.”

He shimmies over to the fireplace and opens a carved wooden box, pulls out a joint, and strikes a match. I sip my wine and watch in amusement as he spins and dances back to me, exhaling a velvet cloud of fragrant smoke.

“Take a hit, Applejack.” He hands me the joint.

This could be very good or very bad. I roll the dice and accept, taking a small drag before handing it back to him. He takes it, pops it in his mouth, and pulls me to my feet.

I loop my arm over his shoulder and let him lead. He can dance. Not that I’m surprised, judging by the way he fucks, but I never imagined, not in dreams or when I’m taking him deep inside me, that we’d dance a bachata.

The song shifts to Butthole Surfers, he spins and dips me, and my heart starts to race. He hums along as he takes another hit, holding it for a moment before dropping his head to shotgun into my mouth, kissing me like he’s plundering hallowed ground with every pull of his lips. I inhale enough, and the rest of the smoke billows from the joint of our mouths.

“Cinnamon and sugary and softly spoken lies,” he quietly sings against my ear.

I feel wooly and warm, my skin sensitive to every brush of his fingers and lips. Every song has new meaning, sensual and exhilarating, and I want more. He spins us closer to the fireplace and taps out the joint in an ashtray next to the open box full of weed and white powder. I’m dizzy, sliding my hands up around his neck and into his hair. He’s so smooth and hard.

“Want you,” I whisper, nipping at his jaw and nuzzling his neck.

“Yeah?” he whispers back, dropping his head to kiss me again. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

I drape my arms around his neck as he lifts me and wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me down the hall, and once we’re inside his bedroom, he sets me in the middle of his bed. 

“You look like a little angel devil,” he says, pulling his T-shirt over his head.

I giggle. “Which?”

“Both.” He shucks his pants to the floor, and his cock mesmerizes me. “Those big sea-green eyes and those cherry lips. And this wicked little red devil outfit.”

I lie back as he moves to crawl over me, stretching my arms overhead and clasping our hands together to press mine to the bed. “Sexy little thing.”

I sigh and raise my knees on either side of his hips as he presses wet kisses to my throat. He’s hard, rubbing against the crux of my thigh and my pussy, working alongside and then inside the leg of my loose silk shorts. He brushes my wet slit and we both groan.

I’m so wet and aching for him to slip inside, deep and easy. 

“Feels so good,” I breathe, arching my neck to give him full access. He ruts against me slow and slick. I spread my legs wider to feel more of him. “I love your cock.”

“You want it raw, angel?” He slips inside an inch before pulling back, and I whimper, squeezing his hands with mine, bucking upward to pull him in again.

“Fuck,” he grunts, pushing up onto his hands and watching himself dip in and out, making me lose my mind. 

I grab the backs of my knees to lift and open my legs wider, watching him tease my soaked pussy with his fat, hard cock. He plunges deeper on each dive, curving into my g-spot. I curl my tailbone and lift my knees higher to get the angle right, and he hits it.

“Oh, fuck yes! Right there.”

He huffs a laugh. “Such a dirty little angel. Take my cock so good.”

He glides over and over that spot, silver moonlight casting shadows and shine over the tantalizing ridges and vales of his body and face. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and wail long and loud, throbbing around him.

He pulls out and rolls me to my stomach, straddles my thighs, and slams back inside while I’m writhing and popping my ass against him. 

“This body,” he mutters, pulling my hips backward. “This needy little cunt, always so wet and ready for me. Always comes so fast for me.” 

Every thrust punches the air from my lungs. I grip his comforter in my fists and relax my head and shoulders. I can feel every inch of him, skidding across my nerve as his tip bumps and massages my cervix. 

“So good,” I whisper, reaching down to fondle my clit.

“Can’t get enough, can ya? That’s a good little devil, play with your clit while I fuck you nice and hard like you deserve.”

He yanks my hips, digging his fingers into the fat. I take him, our bodies orchestrating a salacious symphony of slapping, squelching, and sighs. I press and rub the mound of flesh surrounding my clit and the solid slide of him.

“C’mon, Brandy, come on my cock. Make me come. Wanna fill you up.”

“Oh, shit,” I whine, and my pussy constricts on command.

“That’s it. Oh, fuck!” He pounds into me twice more, shoving me over the edge again. I’m coming in layers and sobbing, before his hips stutter and still, flush with my ass, and he empties inside me.

Chapter Five

Series Master List | Other Soldier Boy Fic

[miraclewoozi]

NETFLIX AND-- ? - c.hs

you try everything in your power to try and help your workaholic boyfriend unwind on his night off. you quickly find out that vernon doesn’t know how to just do nothing.

pair; vernon x fem reader. genre; domestic smut. MINORS DNI. wc; 2.3k (short n sweet <3) note; saw a prompt while i was scrolling through some things and it had me feeling feelings. experiencing experiences. apparently i am soft needy for him today. barely proof read. smut tags utc. xoxo

smut tags; soft!dom/service top vernon but he’s also a fucking tease. fingering (f rec). sort of edging, more of a continued stop/start. squirting. implied that vernon has a praise kink (shock horror). let me know if i've forgotten any.<3

in your defence, you started out with perfectly innocent intentions. 

vernon works himself too hard. you wish he wouldn’t, but he does — it’s a fact, and even though he’ll always shake his head and deny it, you know it’s true. self care, to him, is working. it’s in the fulfilment from a job well done. it’s the clap on a shoulder from a higher-up that recognises how hard he’s been slaving away at his computer screen. it’s in getting results, and he doesn’t get results if he doesn’t do. if he doesn’t maintain. if he doesn’t nigh-on exhaust himself for the sake of the company he’s employed by.

so, you’ve made a plan. on friday, in the few hours he’ll have free between finishing work and settling down to sleep, you’re going to do whatever you can to look after him.

it starts with dinner. heartfelt, home-cooked food. he drops his bag by the front door and his entire face turns so soft he thinks it might melt clean off him. the aromas from the kitchen hit him and he floats across the apartment like a cartoon, all the way to where you’re stood waiting for him, a sort of dopey grin spreading across every single one of his features. 

“that smells so good,” he whines, putting his arms around your waist and nuzzling into your neck. when you ask how his day went, he says he doesn’t remember, he doesn’t care. because he’s home now, and because loves you so much — he doesn’t want to think about anything else.

he clings to you until the food is ready and laid out on the dining table, only pulling himself away when it becomes apparent that he’s not going to be able to have his dinner sitting in your lap.

you eat together with the lights slightly dimmed, a few candles illuminating the table. you talk, a little, but the quiet that surrounds the bubbles of conversation is just as comfortable, so neither of you are bothered when your minds are more focused on the food in front of you than conversing with each other. after, he helps you clear the dishes and stack them over by the sink: you’ll deal with them later on. 

your hand finds his, then, fingers intertwining, and vernon lets himself be dragged all the way to your bedroom. he changes out of his work clothes, tosses them into the laundry basket, and slips into an old, worn, stained and atrociously ugly pair of sweatpants instead. he bypasses a shirt at your instruction and lies face-down with his head nestled between the pillows. 

with one of his own playlists already filling the air around you, you straddle over his hips and start to massage your way up his back. your hands smooth over his skin, thumbs working at a couple of tight spots that have him gasping and grunting, threading his fingers through his own hair to try and keep still. it hurts a bit, but it’s a good kind of pain. so, he lets you work your magic on him; vernon feels all soft and loose, a bit like a deflated balloon animal, by the time you sit up enough for him to be able to roll over between your legs and face you again.

“i thought we could watch a movie tonight, too,” you say quietly, just barely audible over the soft r&b tune in the background. your fingertips tickle up and down his sides as you speak; he sighs at the softness of your touch. “anything you want.”

“what’s all this in aid of, exactly?” he asks, quirking up an eyebrow. his voice is deep and kind of  rough-edged. the way you like it most.

you laugh, quietly, and bend low to kiss the corner of his mouth, caging him in with your forearms either side of his head. “just… because i love you.”

his hands snake up your body to rest against your cheeks and he holds you in place for a second longer. one of the many, many things you love about vernon is the way he kisses you. every time, like it’s the first time. (a symptom of being a closeted rom-com enthusiast, perhaps?) but each press of his lips to yours is always so infused with passion: even the small ones, like this. with his eyes closed, his nose pressed to your cheek, the corners of his mouth pulled up into a shy smile. there’s adoration in every single moment. 

you roll off him when he lets go of you and sit up against the headboard, letting him go through the motions of choosing something for you to watch. a few minutes (and no less than three coin tosses to make the decision) later, you open an arm out for him at the sound of the movie starting, and he curls up into your side. his head rests peacefully on your shoulder, one of his legs hooked over one of yours, your arm snaked around his back. you settle into each other’s embrace in a way that you’ve not had time to do in a long while, matching hums of tranquillity vibrating in both of your throats.

the grand budapest hotel has only been playing for about twenty minutes when you feel him start to move slightly, the tips of his fingers gliding slowly across the hem of your t-shirt. you don’t make anything of it at first, because vernon has always had slightly restless hands, no matter what he’s doing. this is very normal for him. he’s probably just mindlessly feeling the fabric beneath his touch as he watches one of his favourite movies.

another few minutes pass and you feel his nails drag against the bare skin of your tummy. you raise an eyebrow and look at him, but his eyes are trained on the tv, even if one side of his mouth is lifted up in a sly kind of smile.

“what are you doing, babe?” you ask him. he lifts his head from its place on your shoulder and shrugs.

“nothing.”

“mhm, sure you aren’t.”

his hand moves down, then. down, towards your shorts. down, to where his palm wraps around your thigh, half resting on the material of your clothes and half sitting on your bare leg. his fingers make small, light, circular movements against your skin and he nudges your other thigh over slightly with the knee he settled between your legs earlier, effectively spreading you open for him. just a little.

just enough.

“vernon,” you chuckle, but you don’t make any attempt to move your legs back together. “come on, relax. watch your movie.”

“i am,” he says matter-of-factly, not taking his eyes off the screen. “wish i could say the same for you, though.”

“you’re terrible,” you sigh. 

“mm. no, i’m not.”

he creeps further and further up your thigh, until his hand has slipped completely under your loose fitting sleep shorts and he’s effectively pulling them to one side. a breath catches in your throat and you accidentally arch a little as you feel him brush over your underwear.

“watch the movie,” he says, a little more sternly, and you swallow thickly but settle down more comfortably again. if this is how he chooses to decompress… who are you to stop him, really?

but he knows you too well. knows your body like it’s his own. knows exactly how to make you tick without making you jump his bones and take control. his thumb starts to trace small circles over your covered clit, eliciting quiet gasps from your mouth, but every time you react – what he deems to be – a little too much, he stops. removes the pressure. leaves you to squirm.

“vernon,” you sigh after the third time, agitated but needy and squaring your jaw at his teasing. your panties are soaked by now and you need to feel more of him, but your boyfriend seems to be more than happy to work you up on his own terms. how long will he keep going like this for? there’s at least an hour left of the film; surely he won’t make you wait that long?

“focus, baby.”

or maybe, he will.

his lips find home at the base of your neck and he presses a series of small kisses to your skin, returning his thumb to your panties and rubbing you through them a little harder, pressing the fabric into your heat, smirking at the way your arousal seeps through them and coats his fingertips. your breaths start to pick up again, and you do everything you can to stop him from noticing, but he’s maybe a little too caught up sucking the sweet spot behind your ear to notice how fast your heart is beating from the way he touches you.

so when he drags your underwear out of the way and slides an elegant finger through your folds, you really don’t think you can be blamed for the fact that an unstifled moan leaves your lips.

vernon disagrees, though. because of course he fucking does.

“baby,” he challenges you, his finger just millimetres away from your clit when he stops moving it. “come on. you wanted to help me unwind tonight, didn’t you? that’s what all this was. you were being good to me.”

you nod at him, and he kisses your neck again.

“then watch.”

keeping your mouth tightly shut and fighting against the noises that your body so desperately wants you to make, you let him continue. you let him trace your arousal over your clit, let him dip his finger lower and press just enough inside you that your walls flutter around it. you let him work deeper, and add a second, and try your best not to clamp your legs around his poor wrist when he brushes against the sweet-spot inside you the way that only he knows how.

“s’that feel good, baby?” he asks you.

your eyes are all but glazed over and you don’t think you really know what’s going on in the movie anymore. you can’t remember the names of the characters. is there even a plot? or is it all just pretty, symmetrical imagery now? who the hell is the person that just showed up – surely you haven’t seen him, yet? fuck, you’re completely, hopelessly lost in his fingers and the way they’re buried inside your pussy. every reaction you want to give, you can’t, and it’s so difficult. 

but you nod at him anyway, because the least you can do is tell him he’s doing a good job. he likes to hear that sort of thing. 

and if there’s any dialogue in the grand budapest hotel, you don’t have a damn clue what’s being said. his fingers move faster inside you and the heel of his hand puts enough pressure on your clit that all of your muscles are tight in an attempt to do what he’s asked. the only sounds in your ears are the smacking of his lips on your throat and the lewd noises that come from the way your pussy sucks his digits in deeper. 

you feel like a little toy, wound up to high heaven. waiting, waiting, waiting to be released. waiting to fall into oblivion.

“vernon,” you gasp eventually, silently begging that he won’t stop, that he won’t leave you hanging when you’re so close to the edge.

thankfully, he doesn’t.

“mhm?” he curls his fingers again, a little harder, making you buck up into his hand. whatever game he was playing, he seems to be moving past it now. maybe he wants you to come as much as you do.

“close,” you strain. he nods, slowly, positioning his wrist differently so that he can lay his thumb over your clit instead. the much more deliberate pressure has you seconds away from seeing stars.

“m’gonna ask you about this movie tomorrow, you know,” he chuckles, but he doesn’t slow. he fucks his fingers into you over and over, bringing you closer and closer, and when your toes curl, when you grip his wrist with one hand, when your head falls back against the headboard –

euphoria rushes through you. wetness gushes from you. you feel your pussy contract around his fingers, hugging them tight even though your release tries to expel them; he lets you ride the high out, lets you make a mess on his hand as your hips roll down to meet him, a series of whines and moans falling from your lips. his own continue their gentle caress of your neck. you’re in bliss.

he pulls his fingers from you when you tug at his wrist to tell him to do so, lifting them to his mouth and sucking them clean of your arousal and your release. you close your eyes when he kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, and his (granted, still kind of sticky) hand comes up to cup your face. 

adoration in every moment. like it’s the first.

“don’t bother asking me about it,” you tell him as he pulls away, bumping your nose against his and hearing, from the quiet wet smacking sound they make, how his lips grow into a smile. “i don’t know anything that happened.”

“this is the fourth time i’ve tried to get you to watch this movie, y/n,” he chuckles. 

“and this is the fourth time we’ve ended up here. what, does tilda swinton in that ugly wig really do it for you or something?”

“shut up,” he snorts, ever so gently pushing your cheek to move your head away from him. “no-one ever said you had to give into me that easily.”

“oh, you shut up,” you huff, closing your thighs and feeling how your shorts and panties cling to you uncomfortably, only half covering you after he failed to put them back properly. “i was supposed to be helping you chill out. it’s not my fault that you can’t go five minutes without getting handsy.”

“it’s absolutely your fault,” he challenges, getting to his knees and facing you. you can see his cock tenting his sweatpants now and you’d be lying to say that it doesn’t stir something in the depths of your stomach. “you know i can’t resist you in those shorts.”

“you’re so stupid,” you grin, opening your legs up for him to settle between, and he moves over straight away.

“yeah, well,” he chuckles, reaching down to pull your t-shirt up off your head. “you happen to love my kind of stupid.”

thank u sm for reading!! likes, reblogs, comments + feedback are all greatly appreciated!<3

[fanaticsnail]

WHATS UPP, so I read the dreaming of you oneshot thingy on your page (Koby, smoker AND HELMEPPO) so I was wondering if you would be able to make something more of helmeppo. I read your request page and I know you might not write it but i was just curious. I’m not picky at all but since it’s helmeppo i figured it could be something like enemies to lovers.. (DOES NOT HAVE TO BE THAT IM FINE WITH ANYTHING!!) I’ve never requested anything on tumblr so sorry if I’m doing it wrong btw. I have a playlist if you’d like that for ideas 😼 (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0q63LD9Kt49EDxlOxCCQ7m?si=cWh4kWT-SR-x2evxlXn97Q&pi=u-vige6yADR-Oe) SORRY ITS A LONG LINK 😨

Hi there! I love how enthusiastic you are about Helmeppo. Not gonna lie, I definitely felt the need to write him a one-shot after that one. I love your playlist!

Bound to the Enemy

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 5,100+

Synopsis: Engaged in a heated battle between pirates and marines on neutral ground had the locals enact a punishment befitting the crime. Bound back to back with a marine, you come up with a plan to work together to break out of the trap and return to your crew.

Themes: Helmeppo x reader, enemies to lovers, mutual loathing, mutual pining, peril and dread, kissing, fluff, little bit of angst, bittersweet farewells.

Notes: Chef-Husband has been making me watch MacGyver. I apologise if this wasn't exactly what you were looking for, but I did have a lot of fun with it.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training

Slowly bobbing your head from side to side, you hummed a merry tune from your childhood to reverberate and ricochet within the damp cavern walls. Drops of water from the pointed stalactites dripped onto your head, drenching your already soaked clothes with further murkiness from the oceanic roof.

The ropes gripping your shoulders and wrists burned with a crude jolt from your companion behind you, causing you to yelp mid-word with your song. In light of his tugging, you simply laughed and sang louder. 

“The sails lay flat, the wind in her back; the ropes lay in a bind,” you yelled your tune, the echo of your voice calling back at you in a taunting mockery, “The women did wail, as the sailors set sail, leaving their seed behind-.”

“-Are you quite finished?!” His aggravated tone cut your voice off, tugging the ropes and prompting you to lull your head behind you on his shoulder. “It’s bad enough being bound to a damn pirate, let alone one that doesn’t shut up!” You laughed from your position, back to back and tied to the enemy while sitting atop a large rock and awaiting death. 

“Aww, pretty marine,” you coo at him behind you, nuzzling almost affectionately against his shoulder with a hint of teasing, “I thought my singing would bring such joy as we await our imminent doom.” He shrugged away from your head, prompting you to laugh harder as he burned you with the intensity of your ties. 

Both of your hands were bound to each other at the wrists, your companion wriggling and attempting to free himself the moment he awoke from behind you. Your crews arrived at this strange island at the same time, immediately engaging in a heated battle filled with bloodshed and chaos. The locals did not take kindly to the ruckus and immediately implored you to stick to their stance with neutrality. 

Both your crew and the marine crew surrendered and awaited adequate punishment for tainting the shore with battle and bloodshed. The punishment chosen for you was to select a member of each crew, bind them together in ropes, and place them in a cave mouth to await the tide to enter. If you managed to escape before the water choked you with its salty embrace, the marines and the pirates would be permitted to leave. If you drowned, both crews would live out the days on the island and serve the queen as her loyal slaves. 

Before your captain or the pink-haired marine captain could react and volunteer themselves, both you and the blondie stepped forward and gave yourselves up. Without further warning, both of you were injected with a local toxin to cause you to fall into a deep slumber, likely to make the journey more difficult to return to your crews. 

“These ropes are strong,” he growled, thrusting his chest forward and prompting you to arch your back up into him, “I can’t get the damn thing loose.” You simply offer him a condescending “Mm-hmm, that’s the point,” and let him keep moving your body around to wriggle free. 

“When you’re quite ready,” you offer him, wincing as he leaned forward, “I have a blade hidden in my back pocket. I can reach it, but I will need you to stop wriggling so I can get to it.” He huffed out an exasperated breath and you felt him shake his head in agitation. 

“And why are you telling me this now, pirate?” he growled at you, attempting to look at you over his shoulder to no avail, “You could’ve cut us out the whole time, and neglected to mention it?” You laughed, feeling his hands go limp to allow you to search through your pockets without a struggle. 

“You were too busy being a grumpy marine to use your mind,” you shrugged, feeling the handle of the blade with your fingertips, “Always underestimating your opponents and too hot headed to exercise your brain along with your other muscles.” You use your index and middle fingers to draw the blade closer to you, finally clutching it in your hands. 

The seaspray began to rise, the cave mouth starting to fill with the swell of water just as you readied the small knife to cut your bonds. 

“If I nick you with the blade,” you smirk, beginning to cut through the fibers, “I’m not sorry.” The man behind you began to growl at you, holding still and allowing you to work at the ropes with ease. The first few strands came loose, giving your wrists enough room to wriggle a little easier to get enough momentum to cut easier. 

“What’s your name, anyway, marine?” you asked him suddenly, feeling a little bolder and at ease now that your bonds were turning loose. He inhaled a soft breath, uttering quietly to you in response. 

“Helmeppo,” he confessed his name with a soft nod, “And you, pirate?” You giggle in response, uttering your name hastily before rolling his title over on your tongue to sample the flavor. 

“And who are you to your captain, Helmeppo?” you ask him, humming the same tune from earlier, a little quieter as you worked. He exhaled a laugh through his nose, “I am his first mate and swordsman. You?” 

“I am the navigator and blade thrower,” you nod along, the tune never ceasing as you feel one of your wrists finally come loose. You raise it to your side and give it a soft shake and breathe slowly while stretching the limb. 

Making quick work on the other side now that your wrist was free, you reach up and begin to saw at the bonds around your chest and shoulders, noticing the ties are a little more complex than you assumed they were initially. Cutting through the strands, you finally feel them come loose enough to wriggle free. 

“Well now,” you sighed in relief, beginning to stand on the large rock and look down to the icy depths of the sea, “Can you swim, first-mate? Not a devil-fruit user by any chance, are you?” You looked to the blonde man beside you as he shook his head.

“I’m not the best swimmer, unfortunately,” he confessed, looking down at the sea rising up the rock, “Not a user, though. I can stay afloat just fine.” You nod along, looking at the cave mouth and angling your chin to the side with narrow eyes. 

“That doesn’t look right to me,” you nod your forehead to the mouth of the cave, “The light is all wrong, and the swell in water is too rapid. I think it's a false entrance.” He looked to the mouth and nodded his head along. 

“You’re the navigator,” he nodded to you, testing your knowledge beneath his staring gaze, “I am electing to trust you with this. Where do you think we should start?” You hummed in thought, gazing up at the roof and narrowing your eyes at the sight of the luminescent lights surrounding the stalactites. 

“Not a swimmer, but are you a climber?” you asked him, reaching for his chin with your index finger and thumb before turning his attention to the ceiling, “We need to go up there.” He allowed you to move his face and look at the small opening in the roof wall. He sighed another huff of exasperated breath and shook his head.

“If I had my sword, it would be far easier to scale the walls,” he nodded, looking around the rock you were standing on. The surface was like an island in comparison to the other rocks surrounding the room, no way off the surface without swimming, and no way up without reaching the spherical sides to the rocky room. 

You hummed, tucking your blade back behind you and looked down into the water, noticing a faint light coming from the center beneath the rock. Widening your eyes, you stared more intentionally beneath the water, noticing the light began to travel towards you both. 

“Helmeppo?” you ask him with a small hint of panic, backing away from the water below, “I don’t think we’re alone in here.” You held onto his arm and dragged him to the center of the rock, looking up at the tiny hole in the roof before looking at your blonde, apprehensive companion. 

Darting his eyes down to the depths below, he noticed the same scaly visage beneath the surface, swirling in a circle around the rock you were marooned on. He darted his eyes back to you and drifted his eyes frantically around your features. 

“A sea beast?” He asked in a low tone, prompting you to nod in confirmation. He sucked in a hiss through his teeth and looked up to the small hole above you, “We’re going to need to find some type of raft to have us go through the water towards the walls, and pray the beast doesn’t consume us. Then climb to the top of the cave with nothing but our knuckles, aren’t we?”

You look up at the ceiling before looking at the fraying strands of rope you hacked at moments prior. Cursing under your breath, you dropped to your knees and began reweaving the strands that you cut with your dagger. 

“Fuck,” you bark at yourself, grimacing as you hastily rotate the strands and coil them back together. He looked down to your position and his eyes widened in horror as he realized what was occurring. Sniffing back your stupidity, the water continued racing in from the false cave mouth and elevating the water level higher. 

“Can you fix it before the water reaches us?” He looked to the ropes before looking towards the rapidly rising sea water. You growled, balling your hands into fists and continuing to coil the strands around each other.

“It’ll get done,” you assure him with a rumbly growl in your tone, “But it’s not going to be reinforced enough to hold both of our weight at once.” He cocked his head to the side, a perplexed expression drifting over his face. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, kneeling beside you and searching your face for hidden intentions. You huff out a shaky breath, gesturing to your back pocket and to the ends of the rope. 

“I’m going to attach the rope to the blade, throw it through the hole and wind against a stalactite,” you nod upwards, refusing to turn your eyes away from your busy hands. “Then we're going to climb through the hole and reach the surface,” you admit, finally looking up at him, “But we can’t both go at the same time. The rope is too frail and fragile.” 

His eyes widened, searching your eyes for dishonesty and ill intent. Upon finding none, he growled beneath his breath. 

“So, what then?” he huffed out, a small scoff underlying in his tone, “One of us climbs up and then the other begins the climb up after? Is that what you’re suggesting-.”

“-That’s precisely what I’m suggesting,” you cut him off with a soft snarl, “One of us will have to wait and trust the other from their position above.” You continued coiling and twisting the ropes, your hands shaking in a soft rage and lip quivering in reaction to the fear of what’s to come. 

After a soft moment of silence, you concluded your twisting and looked up at the blonde-haired marine beside you. 

“I have impeccable aim,” you reassure him, fastening the end to your blade after you retracted it from your rear pocket, “Hold the end of the rope and let me aim, please. In silence.” He nodded, eagerly taking your orders and you breathed through your concerns as the water rose over the soft edge. 

The fins of a large creature slowly flew above the surface, Helmeppo’s eyes widening as he witnessed the scaly spine of the Sea Beast below the surface. You refused to tear away your eyes from the target ahead, exhaling slowly as you aimed at the wall within the hole. 

In a swift thrust, you threw the blade within the air and the rope began to soar through the barely illuminated dome towards the stalactites. Embedding with a swift thud, the end of the rope was hanging limply within Helmeppo’s hands as he continued to search the water for the approaching beast circling below. 

Turning to him and noticing his look, you breathed out a melancholy breath of air. Hardening your resolve, you gently reached up and squeezed his shoulder to draw his attention back to you.

“Right then,” you nodded with a hasty sniff of steely determination, “Off you go. Quickly.” He turned to you, looking down in shock as you gestured for him to begin the climb. He began to speak, prompting you to shake your head and halt his thoughts. 

“Helmeppo,” you reassured him, squeezing him once more, “This is how it has to be. I am a pirate, a blade thrower and a navigator. You are the first-mate to a marine captain and a swordsman. I would not be able to help you with the rope once I got up there, if anything goes awry,” you confess, softly giving him a pat to spur him on, “You would likely not trust me to aid you anyway, and I feel like you would do the right thing if given the opportunity to do so.” 

His shock deepened, the rope feeling hot in his hands the longer he held it between his fingers. 

“Go, Helmeppo,” you tapped him once more to break him out of his frantically racing thoughts. He gave you a soft nod, gulping back his nerves and beginning a hasty climb up the ropes. He tested his weight, tugging firmly twice before throwing his entire weight into his ascension. 

You had no choice but to watch on as the rope began to bend under the strain of his weight. Looking to the water, the levels began gently rising in soft, taunting ripples as the tide began to come in. A call of your name from the blonde swordsman above the ropes redrew your attention to Helmeppo above you.

“Distract yourself,” he ordered you, straining as his arms and thighs curled around the hanging rope. “Sing your silly songs to me, talk to me about your crew, tell me anything you want.” He growled, gritting his teeth and tugging his body above the rope. You gulped back your fear and inhaled a deep lungful of air.

“I have only ever known a life of piracy,” you confessed, nodding your confirmation and solidifying your words, “Born and raised on the sea, reading the stars and charting my course.” 

Helmeppo grunted on the ropes, continuing his slow climb as the water rose around you. You continued thinking about the circumstances that brought you here to this moment. Smiling a soft smile, you look down at your toes and reminisce about your life. 

“I learned to read the stars from my mother,” you nod slowly, laughing a soft chuckle as you add, “I look like her, too. The crew says she and I are nothing alike, but I like to think we're similar. She was a noble.” You admit, looking back up to Helmeppo as he nearly reached the top. 

He huffs and pants, finally drawing his fingers up to the coarse wall and reaching for a sturdy rock to grip. Reflecting on your words, he thinks over your confessions with interest but remains too preoccupied in his task to ask you any questions. 

The water rises closer to your toes, two beady eyes glaring at you beneath the surface and waiting for the water to lap at your ankles before making its move. You pay the eyes no mind, looking up and reassuring Helmeppo as he attempts to grip the walls for a third time to no avail. 

“You're doing well,” you offer him with no malice or sarcasm in your tone, “Take your time, I'll be right here.” He scoffed out a soft laugh at your response, wedging the rope between his thighs and using your blade attached to the top to pull himself closer to the wall. 

The water caresses your toes with a soft propulsion, your heels not faring better as the water continues to rise to the peak of the small, rocky island within the damp dome. You scrunch your eyes shut, thinking about the outcome should you both fail this task. Both crews would perish on this island in servitude for the locals, your crews would mourn for you, and you would be good for the beast below the surface. 

“You can do this, Helmeppo,” you again reassure him, gulping back your shaking fear and propelling confidence in your tone. “You are a swordsman, a first-mate to your captain. You have worked hard to earn those titles, just like you're working hard now. You can do this.” 

Hearing your encouragement, his hands finally find purchase on the walls, anchoring himself against the hole in the surface and beginning his climb up. Just as he finally leans up, the dagger in the wall comes loose, the rope falling limp between his thighs and held up by his body alone. 

Your eyes widen, your shock and his igniting desperation in your pulse. He grunted through the adrenaline, groaning as he lifted himself above the hole and braced himself against the walls. The rope began to slip, his hands darting out and grasping it before it fell back down below. 

“I-I'm-...” He panted, attempting to catch his breath. Shutting his eyes and furrowing his brows, he inhaled deeply and focussed his breath, “...I'm going to have to pull you up.” His voice quivered, his lips shaking as he was overcome from momentary exhaustion at the swift climb. 

“We-...” You began, feeling your shoes begin to dampen with the rise in water lapping at your boot heels, “...We’ll wait until you're ready. Take your time.” Helmeppo looked down, noticing the sea beast had begun to circle around the slowly disappearing island and exhaled a shaky breath. 

Before he had joined the marines officially, he would've wanted nothing more than to leave you down there to drown. He would've cowered in his own fear and scampered up the hole without second thought.

But as he stared down at you, looking at the smile you had on your lips as you gazed up at him, the enemy, he was compelled to remember all he learnt from Bogard and Garp. He was a marine, a swordsman, and now the first-mate to his superior and best friend. He was no longer his father's son, a sniveling asshole with no marks on his resume to back up his superiority complex. 

He was Helmeppo: first mate to Captain Koby, and a superior sword fighter on a journey to becoming the best. 

Anchoring a few coils of rope around his waist, he gestures for you to do the same. You follow his directions, tying your hips together and wedging the strands between your legs as a makeshift harness. He extends his legs, parting his thighs and bending his knees to brace himself within the opening beneath the moonlight. Taking the rope in fistfuls, he begins to slowly draw hand after hand of rope and pool the hefty coils over his palm and elbow. 

“K-Keep talking to me,” he uttered, wincing as he felt the overexertion of his muscles burning under the weight. “Keep t-talking. Anchor your weight and tell me about yourself.” His breath hitched, his brows furrowing as he grit his teeth. 

You choose not to look down, opting only to grant him your smile as he lifts your body higher above the doom lurking below. 

“Before I left my home,” you laughed, bracing your arms against the ropes with your forearms, “I was meant to settle down and have an army of children,” you both chuckled at the notion, his hands crawling along the strands and coiling them up higher. 

“That something you want for yourself?” He winced through the strain of the ordeal, looking beneath you and noticing the rocky island was completely engulfed in water. The eyes continued to observe the two of you with interest, the creature lingering beneath the depths smiling its toothy grin.  

“Absolutely not,” you confess with a laugh, gripping the ropes further and clambering up alongside his cooking advances, “I only want the open sea, the wind in the sails, and the stars to point me to my next destination.” He snickered down, growling as his limbs began to burn. 

“T-Truly?” he responded with a taught snicker, “No desire to settle down and retire one day?” He continued tugging the rope and lifting you through the final threshold of the journey. 

“Not in my plan, no,” you retorted, finally lifting yourself between his thighs by grasping his hips and hoisting you with your arms extended. Anchoring your heels at the wall behind you, you had no choice but to fall into his chest upon ascension. 

His eyes never left your face, floating over your features and gazing up at you. Falling flat on his chest, you wriggled between his legs and drew yourself up through the partition in his thighs. You furrowed your brows as you found purchase on the wall beyond his shoulders, his eyes darting between yours and his lips parted and panting. 

“Sorry,” you muffled your apologies, leaning back and gazing into his eyes. Your breath hitched, looking over his features and finally taking a moment to breathe him in. He was handsome, one of the most handsome men you had seen in some time: almost pretty. 

His eyes focussed on your lips, momentarily forgetting the doom lingering below and taking you in for all that you were. You were beautiful, even for a pirate. 

“We-...” he began, offering his hand out to you and aiding you between his legs, “...we should begin the climb. Can't-...” his eyes darted down to your lips and lingered there a moment longer, “-We can't leave them waiting, and the water is rising.”

You looked at his face, smiling as you hastily pushed yourself up the walls and looked down at the marine first-mate beneath you. 

“Better hurry up then, blondie,” you sneered down at him before scampering throughout the walls and hovering up the small opening. He chuckled, taking a moment to catch his breath before following up the hole after you. 

The water rises further below you two, your anxieties both propelling you to use each other as anchor points to propel you further up the hole towards the surface. 

“Try to keep up, marine,” you teased him in soft snickers, his own laugh joining yours the longer you teased him. 

“Speak for yourself, pirate,” he responded in kind, his eyes staring at your body the further up the chasm you clambered. The water began to swell further beneath you, both of you praying in gratitude that you understood the false entry that drew in the tide. 

The starlight welcomed you into the night, you hoisted your torso up through the birthpoint and your eyes both met the cloudless sky above. As you exited the hole, you reached down and offered Helmeppo your arm to grip and raise through the tunnel mouth. 

With a soft smirk, he clasped his hand over your forearm and used your arm to draw himself up through the small opening. Before falling onto his back and panting, he assessed the surroundings and noticed there truly was no entry to the cave from below. You were right, and he was ever grateful you noticed the trap lingering below. 

Lying flat on your backs either side of the hole and catching your breath, you looked to the constellations and began searching through your mind for any direction towards your crewmates. 

While you were distracted by charting the stars, Helmeppo began untying the bonds circling his waist and carefully coiling the ropes for later purpose. He wound the fibers into a neat pile beside him, before crawling on his hands and knees towards you and beginning to draw his fingers against your flesh as you muttered stars to yourself. 

“The Marina Comet besides Genfry’s Belt,” you whispered, barely processing the fingers dancing over your skin and loosening the knots surrounding your pelvis. “Which means the anchor point for our vessel should be beside the Sialin Dip and Hogir Spear.” Your whispers earned you a chuckle from your blonde-haired companion as he loosened the knots of rope girdling your waist.

After uttering your final vantage point, you began to giggle. The laughter became almost overbearing as the adrenaline teetered off and lay in wake to the lethargy you were both experiencing.

The physical trial between the two of you amongst sea beasts, bondage, and trickery had each breath you took feeling like a gift to the senses. Upon loosening the final knot, Helmeppo flopped to the position beside you and chuckled into the stars. You joined him, your rambunctious laughter serenading him as you did a few hours prior with your shanties of old. 

“Any-... Any thoughts on where our crews are right now?” he offered with teetered laughter. You rolled onto your side and placed your hand on his chest and gave him a soft pat in response. 

“We have about a forty minute trek through the jungle before we reach the shore,” you giggled, leaning over him and gazing into his eyes, “And then it’ll be about an hour after that to make it to our ships.” You reached up, brushing his blonde hair from his face and gently caressing his cheek. 

His breath hitched as his eyes met with yours, wide and shocked to receive such affection from the enemy. Conflicting emotions swirled in his mind the moment his gray orbs met your half-lidded gaze. Before he could speak, you spoke for him in a soft endearing tone. 

“You know, you’re really quite pretty,” you speak as if your words contained a soft secret within. His Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed a dry mouthful of saliva and parted his quivering lips up to you. Giggling at his response, you go to draw yourself away from his embrace, only to have your wrist collected in his hand. 

As you knit your brows up in confusion, he immediately sat up and drew your body close to himself. His unoccupied hand cradled the back of your head in a firm grip and drew your lips up to collide with his in a soft kiss. A squeak fled your lips in shock as your eyes remained wide and staring into the furrowed brow of your enemy.

His golden hair stuck to his face in stringy, damp strands from the salty drips from the cavern roof. The stars illuminated his pale skin and allowed you to take a glimpse at the rosy blush rising against his cheeks. You finally hum into his lips, circling his waist with your unclasped wrist, and rising to sit in his lap on the grassy patch beside the hole leading down to your prior prison. 

You take his kiss as an expression of relief in reclaiming freedom, his joy at being alive and making it through the trial laid out below. Returning his kiss, you allow yourself to give in to your own relief in making it through the trial and rotate your chin to deepen the oscillation. His heart shot to this throat as he released your wrist to circle his arm around your shoulders and hold you close. 

Finally and firmly breaking you away from his lips, he gazed up at you with adoration and an unspoken fondness for you. His lips were bruised by the intensity of your kiss which prompted your hands to raise to his cheeks and run your thumb over his bottom lip. Smiling down at Helmeppo, you softly offer him a small tease in your tone.

“C’mon, pretty boy,” you narrow your eyes and scrunch up your nose with your smile, “Let’s go free our crews and get off this forsaken island.” He panted slowly caressing your hair and pressed his forehead against yours briefly. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, pirate,” he smiled in his tone, briefly closing his eyes. He broke away contact from your forehead and aided you to your feet. Returning your dagger to you, he hooked the coil of rope over his shoulder and let it lay circling his hip. 

“After all we’ve been through? I wouldn’t dream of it,” you smile in response, placing your dagger in your back pocket and readjusting your clothes, “But do try to keep up, lover. You may be strong, but I’m faster.” You began to set an easy and hasty pace trekking through the jungle towards the coastline where your crews were waiting for you.

Aiding each other through the uneven jungle floor, and sneaking in subtle touches and holds to brace each other in support, your affection for the marine swordsman only grew. His eyes only ever left your body and face to briefly glance ahead to brush away a wandering branch from blocking your path. His chivalry was a welcome change to the bruising affection you and your crew displayed to one another. 

His thoughts and emotions clouded his judgment, finally giving in to the emotion he was attempting to stifle. He was smitten with the enemy, and he knew you were likely to never see each other again after this adventure. Willing to take any touch you were permitting him to press you with, he committed the feel of your hands on his skin to memory. 

He was in love, and you were feeling much the same. You both laughed at the true tragedy of the rising emotions the moment your crews came into view with the local government. Without much thinking, you hastily press a soft kiss to his cheek before sprinting to your captain on the sandy shore without further words. 

Eyes shut and hands rose in front of him, he bid you a wordless farewell. Opening his eyes and watching your hair bounce behind you, he felt a piece of his heart leave him and join with your own. Sparing him a look over your shoulder, you shot him a soft wink and giggled in glee at witnessing his eyes still firmly fixed on your retreat. 

You were smitten with your marine swordsman, something that the crew would likely tease you about for the whole duration of your journey out to the sea. You looked to the marine ship, your hands splayed on the wooden rail as you met the gaze of Helmeppo aboard his vessel. Gifting him a soft wave and a broad grin, he returned the gesture with a bashful smile and eyes left wanting. 

Taking a mental note of the stars, you prayed that one day their soft illuminance would guide you two to meet again. 

[theoddest1]

Aight, so I am gonna be honest, no clue what to label this regarding triggers or the like or if this warrants one or not, but someone brought this to my attention and honestly...what the fuck is this

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So let me get this straight, the episode clearly showcases that Angel is in a NONCONSENTING relationship where he is SEXUALLY ASSAULTED more than once and having no way out, essentially a sex slave, but Raph thinks it's sexy despite the clear context and having WORKED on the show??

Nice to know Viv AND Raph have no care in the world and wanna hide behind a serious topic to proceed to fetishize off of it. Crazy stuff amirite?! Let's not forget Viv's love for the animatic Raph made, loving it so much she saved it in her faves playlist. Not even just a like, HER FAVES. Must have been jumping with utmost joy.

And how can I POSSIBLY forget Viv's odd fascination with the Val and Vox's relationship? In spite of it all, Viv seems to ship and find StaticMoth to be a very interesting and appealing ship.

Oh and of course, whatever the hell this is supposed to be cause let me tell yah, this sure seems like a pattern of forced "love" Viv likes to hammer into her Gay ships.

Does anyone mind filling me in on how I'm supposed to NOT see Viv blatantly find the noncon hot or hiw she sexualizes and actively likes art of her gay ships in sexual manners life almost always? Think it's worth the discussion and investigation.

[italianpersonwithashippersheart]

We Are The Series: Why I Didn't Like It

I am writing this for the 3 people on this website who completed this but didn't love it.

@automaticpenguincreation tagging you because we talked about this and I said I would. Also chatting with you is what made me want to finally say something.

Disclaimers (Please Read Them):

I am going to be critical in this post, not hateful, I don't hate this show, but critical. Engage in good faith if you can, If you can't don't.

I do not want my criticism to be dismissed saying I must not be getting it. I spend weeks making sure I got it. Read all the praise and even reblogged the occasional post because I see the value this show has for people. All I am saying is that I don't like this.

Again some of my later critics are about the choices that were made in this series. I understand that a lot of what I am about to critique was made on porpouse and is indeed part of the appeal.

I have seen maybe 1 post on tumblr being overly critical (@bengiyo post and I guess mine) I don't know where people got the impression that this show is being hated. But If you geniuly want to know why some people might have not liked this show you can read my thoughts and see for yourself.

I have watched and enjoyed stuff like this before. I am not making any moral judgement on you. Just because I don't like this doesn't mean you can't like it.

Part One: Pros

I am going to start with the good things. My honest review of this show is: It's a Mid University BL that is doing something different with the friendship and quietly subverting a couple of of classical Uni BL tropes.

I can see how that would have valued for people that watched all the Uni BL. I get that part of the appeal.

The friendships in this show are very good, they are framed as just as important if not more important then the romances. And I appriciate that. It's also one of the only two realtionships the show set up writing wise and spend any ammount of writing effort making you want to root for. Chain and Pun being the other one.

Pon being added to the cast late and them having to reshoot things were handled beautifully, you can't actually tell there was ever any issues at all and it feels like Pon was always meant to be there.

PondPhuwin story with the you must be my slave bit was handled pretty well. It certantly could have done worse. I think the story does a pretty good job writing the resolution in a satisfying manner.

I can tell that this meant a lot to people both fans and the cast and crew. All art is subjective. Just because I don't feel any value from this doesn't mean it doesn't have it.

The story is escapism, it deliberately downplays all the negative bits of life and of queer life to make a fluffy cute show. It is a similar appeal to My School President. I can't find the post that talked about that anymore, but indeed the appeal of My School President is that for the majority of the story they just get to be normal high schoolers and this is treated like a normal romance.

I have always seen the homophobia at the end of MSP not as a break in the format but a sign our boys were growing up, almost out of the protective halls of high school (in the specific bubble version of high school the story set up) and into the real world.

That is the appeal of We Are the series. Which is why in my personal opinion it's not a pure slice of life series (which wasn't ever said in the negative at least by me), it certentaly might have slice of life inspirations, and it might be using a similar structure (see @shortpplfedup post's comparing this to Hospital Playlist a show I didn't see but I have seen called Slice of Life by multiple other people). I don't personally feel like a show can be slife of life and escapism at the same time. You are 100% free to have a different opinion on this.

I am not going to give it more praise simply because the website is full of praise for this show and because those are the main points that i enjoyed.

Part Two: Cons

Let's start with the big one the plot has no throughline (I first encounter this term on this website which I highly reccomend the TLDR is: A throughline is the core "problem" of a show, the part of the structure that ties all the events together).

Exemples of throughline from a slice of life ql I watched recentely (and I am simplying to use this as an exemple). She Loves To Cook and She Loves to eat: Our main girls are alone, they go through life missing a connection, they both have needs that could be met by another person. During the course of the story they form a connect to each other and other people. They form a bond. The story ends with them moving in together, permanentely affirming that they are a unit now, and therefor will never go through life alone again. The "problem" of the start is resolved.

We Are the Series doesn't have that. And it doesn't have that by desing. Uni BL usual throughline is main relationship but they can do that here. What I would have put as the throughline is the friendships. Making the "problem" is the friendship group of long time friends going to survive Uni and various romantic relationships.

But the show doesn't that, because that would mean having arcs, and conflict and that is something the show doesn't want to do to not hurt the escapism.

It is a stylistic choice I don't like but it doesn't I understand why it wasn't made.

This is why to some people it feels like We Are the Series doesn't have a story. It is very common for story with no throughline to give that feeling to people.

Events happen, characters made decision, they talk to each other. But it doesn't feel like it has a narrative plot.

It is also why it doesn't have a classical climax. I know we clown a lot on episodes 11 and penultimate episodes of BLs and some of them are not well handled and too dramtic, or too high stakes for the resolution we are going to get. But the reason we get those it's because it's a climax, the highest point of tension in the story.

She Loves To Cook and She Loves to Eat climax is the problems with finding a place to go, because that is the highest point of tension of the throughline. We Are the series had no conflicts in the penultimate episodes because it doesn't have anything to raise, the story has no tension what so over.

Conflict and Tension don't just mean break up and fight scenes, a low key slice of life story can have both tension and conflict the exemple GL I have given has both.

As I mention before the only thing this show had any interesting in setting up and writing with any sort of effort was the friendships and ChainPun.

The reason why I feel like ChainPun were the best written ship is because all the other ships assume your engagement instead of writing reasons to make us care.

Tangent to explain what I mean: Back when playbooy was airing I exchanged a couple of mgs with @my-rose-tinted-glasses talking about not being able to get attached to any of the character. In my answear I said I started the series already attached because I was keeping up with the characters and plot and got pre-excited about it. So my investment was already high.

I think something similar is happening with We Are the series and the known ships. What I mean is most of the people watching this have already seen at least one show with almost all the main pair. We know what their deal is, what their chemestry is, what their dynamic will be like. The details might be different but we already know them. And I feel like the writing of the series relyed on this fact too much. I don't think there was any effort being made into making you root for them. Maybe PondPhuwin having to write the resolution to you must be my slave plotline. But that is it.

AouBoom get together at episode 5. We barely know anything about either of them, Fang is such a non character at the point I could maybe tell you three things about him. I am not sure how I am supposed to care about them except for the fact that it is AouBoom and I have seen and loved them in other shows and like many people desperately want them to be mains.

ChainPun was the only expeption, they had to use crumbs and a slow writing and only making them get together at the end because they are the only ship we never saw before. The only ships the writer couldn't assume you the audience already be invested in from the get go. (Also why I was at this point near the end only invested in them much like @respectthepetty)

I want to be super clear about something: I AM NOT CRITICISING YOU THE AUDIENCE FOR THIS RESPONSE. I am criticising the writing for relying on that response and not writing any extra stuff that would help with engement. God knows that I will be guilt of the same thing in other shows. I get pre-invested in shows with Cooheart or Fluke Natouch just because I love those two actors. And If I ever get my Fluke Natouch criminal fucked up character of my dreams in a modern bl that show will be my forever fave are you kidding, they could mess up everything but that character and it would be a 10 out of 10. I am not immune to investing in something just because you love a ship or the actors. I am just saying the writing could have done more to support the ships and assume that would be a small % of the viewers that needed more time and proper writing to get attached to the other ships.

Another big problem for me was something that actually happened to me before with playboyy. See at some point my the middle of Playboyy I realized that the show was never going to have the time to actually go has deep into characters and relationship dynamic they set up as much as I wanted them to. So my emotional engement wained a bit. I still had a lot of fun with it. But I wasn't as much into it as I was in the beggining emotionally speaking. With We Are the Series I realized that pretty much at the begging and got confirmation at episode 5 when AouBoom's character just got together like that. With no arc, no story, no effort. And I know that a story was there, We were told that. But I would have liked to have seen the story instead of it being told to us later.

And I know I am not the only one that found the WinnySatang resolution to be lacking and a little off. You can see @heretherebedork post x x x x about it, I agree with them.

Part Three: Conclusion

Ultimately this show is mid. It's value comes from escapism and the fact that it came out right now, amongs other more plot heavy bls and experimental genre dips. That it does something a little different then all the other Uni BL that came before. And that is actors we already know and love.

It's average for me. But it obviosly meant something for people and that matters.

I want to leave this review but again point out, critiques are not hate, a person not liking a show you like is not an attack on you or your judgement. I know it can be upsetting I have been there. I make a lot of effort to understand different POVs of shows and trying to see what the other person saw in this media, and what kind of life biases (bias as in we all have them, art is subjective and we all look at it according to who we are as people) could make them feel the way they do.

If you do like this show and have read this full post thank you, even if you disagree with me.

I want to leave you with this Italian Idiom: Il mondo è bello perchè è vario. The world is beautiful because its varied.

[lainalit]

The Queen & The General | A Jassa Playlist

"We were their slaves and whores and laborers for millennia—men and women fought and died so we’d never have to serve them again."

A little playlist for @jassaweek for the most underrated couple in Acotar who fought against the opression of their people

>> Click here to listen to it <<

Under the cut you find my favorite song lyrics from the playlist that fit them Hope you enjoy ❤

Artwork by @carol-pisarro

Favorite Lyrics

Every time I stand to leave my cage In my broken body, I stay -Body by SYML

You made me feel again Made me dance circles 'round the pieces of your heart You made me feel again After the last time, didn't think that I could love -Blue blood by LAUREL

I don’t need armor I’m more than brave Gotta go harder I will not be a slave Head above water So many waves I am not son or daughter No label, no name -Armor by Iniko

I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be And satisfaction feels like a distant memory And I can't help myself All I wanna ever say is, "Are you mine?" -R U Mine? by Arctic Monkeys

I don't wanna live forever 'Cause I know I'll be living in vain And I don't wanna fit wherever I just wanna keep calling your name Until you come back home -I Don't Wanna Live Forever by ZAYN & Taylor Swift

But I won't die for love But ever since I met you You could have my heart And I would break it for you -1121 by Halsey

There is a reason I'm still standing I never knew if I'd be landing And I will run fast, outlast Everyone that said no -All the King's Horses by Karmina

I got new love, new skin to wrap myself in New lows, new sins to lose myself in New heart, new limbs to bury myself in New love, new skin -new skin by VÉRITÉ

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 9 (Part 2 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

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

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

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

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; fainting; regurgitating profusely; nausea; extreme feelings of stress and anxiety; extreme feelings of sadness; abandonment issues; allusions to a dark, forgotten childhood; therapy; mentions of EMDR therapy; prenatal visits; arguing/raising of voices; heart issues addressed (POTs); use of heart monitors; hemoglobin kits mentioned; emergency room visit and all that might entail (e.r. visit is a longer one, so strap in); revisited, vivid memories of sex; jealousy; body changes as a result of pregnancy; negative self-talk; looooots of baby talk; pregnancy hormones (and this is nothing compared to what's to come - that's all i'll say); reader still being sad while she checks Jake out; oh! and Joshua Michael Kiszka being the perfect angel he is <3 (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Covet Masterlist

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

-Horace

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

It had blossomed seemingly out of nowhere. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does he. . .?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

Thank God.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dammit. What the fuck? I’m. . .?

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

You were carrying a human child. 

And you were at your first appointment for it.

Goddamn.

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

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

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

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

Gia would be so proud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything settled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are you still having sex with Jake?

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

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

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

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

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

Also, officially, the mother of his child.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t mean to squawk with a laugh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fucking asked me, bitch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seriously, y/n?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were so close to seeing the truth.

Facing this head on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing. 

Emptiness. Empty stomach.

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

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

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

Thump thump.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thump thump.

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow,” you repeated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except . . .

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

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

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

Everything was going to be alright.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got it,” you told her. 

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

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

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

Without ever knowing it. 

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How?”

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

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

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

“Are you mad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nice turn in conversation, Josh.

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

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

How the fuck did he know that–?

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

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

Instantly, you felt guilty. 

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

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

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

Figuratively and literally. God. Stupid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded an affirmation, impressed by the quick math. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you want to stop it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would you even be in the predicament you were today? 

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

Would he have convinced you to be with Jake? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Before you had this baby.

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

It didn’t matter anyway.

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

“Well, I guess I served my purpose.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

“I really am most mad at my brother.”

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

“I’m going to be for a whi–.”

Tap tap tap.

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

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

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

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

But why? Why the fuck would he care?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How could you not?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You ready to go inside, mama?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“When should I tell him?”

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

Friday, November 11, 2022

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maya. 

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

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

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

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

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

Even though you knew the answer. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was Jake’s turn. 

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

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

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

And, then there was an incredibly intrusive thought. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm?” You hummed.

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

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

Thankfully, no one had. 

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

Your favorite.

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

So much was changing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The rest of the guys agreed.

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

Your stomach fell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But. . . Jake. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Without even meaning to, your eyes met his. 

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

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

But you weren’t delusional. 

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

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

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

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

Why did I have to fucking look?

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

What the hell? What was even the point? 

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

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

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

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

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

This was personal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But. . . 21 Savage?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At. All.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And your head was just fucking throbbing relentlessly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And no nausea – best part of all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Heartbeat?”

“Steady as can be.”

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

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

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

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

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

You both spoke at the same time.

“Oh, no—.”

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

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

Jake’s baby. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Josh squeezed your hand– tried to bring you back.

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

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

And a shit ton of vitamins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A heart monitor? That sounded utterly terrifying to you. 

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

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

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

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

You have time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d taken up too much of her time.

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

Because it meant you were going home. 

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 14, 2022

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deep breaths, y/n.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not Josh. Not even Elsie. 

But Jake. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“When should I tell Jake about the baby?”

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And for once, you didn’t feel bad for lying to him. Your nerves were lit on fire with irritation towards him. 

He doesn’t need to know.

“You got a heart monitor in the mail,” he stated, not dropping the possible severity of the situation. "And you're saying it's nothing huge?"

Without a second thought, you were yanking the package from his hands. 

“It’s. not. your. business, Jacob,” you squeezed the package until the plastic wrap squeaked from the tight grip of your fingertips. Then, something else clicked. “Why the fuck were you not looking at the name on the package? Remember, like you said, you live with me. You know that not all of the shit that comes in the mail is yours.”

“I just wasn’t thinking–.”

“Kind of fucking invasive, Jake,” you interrupted hotly. “Don’t you think?”

“Well, it helped me to know something was wrong with your heart. You wouldn’t have told me if I hadn’t opened the package,” he argued back. 

“You didn’t need to know!” You said, your voice raising at the same speed as your blood pressure. “Still don’t!”

“But Josh sure as hell does, right?” He demanded, swinging his finger towards the door, his jaw clenching. “He needed to be your knight in shining fucking armor, huh?”

“Why the hell do you care?!” You fumed, the question exploding from your chest with the same emotion that had tears gathering in your eyes at the question. Angry tears. Confused tears. 

“I don’t!” He snapped, his beautiful, brown eyes, hard. His jaw, set and tight. 

His words sat in the air for a few minutes. Your stares were intertwined; swimming with tangled emotions. The air felt hot and heavy as it surrounded you. It was taut with newly spoken (and still unspoken) surmounting feelings and disequilibrium. Nostrils were flaring. Both of your chests heaved, the sound of his breathing mixed with yours in a way that made you want to slap and kiss his pursed lips.

You didn’t let yourself stand there much longer – needed to get away from him. Without speaking to him, you tore your eyes from his, gathered up your stuff from the couch, and tried to walk with as much dignity as you could to your room. 

Somehow, you were able to get the door open with your hands inexplicably full, and after you’d entered and before you could shut it behind you, you shot a glare his way. He was still watching you.

“Fuck you, Jake.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 17, 2022

The next night saw your ass in the shower again. 

Except this time, you were sitting in the tub, legs drawn to your chest as close as possible with your rounder tummy, and chin on your knees as you let the warm water soak you through. 

You’d already shaved and washed everything. So, now, you were just letting yourself be.

Your thoughts had been spinning since last night. So, in an effort to help your heart, you’d invited Josh over for a movie when Jake left to give lessons for the day. And, of course, he’d said yes without question. 

You’d spent the day drowning yourself in popcorn and Canada Dry (Josh surprised you with a new 12-pack when he’d arrived) as you’d watched all three Bridget Jones movies. Back to back to back. They weren’t Josh’s favorites, but he humored you by trying to indulge in the trilogy – even managing to laugh at the funny parts. 

Between movies, he’d let you cry on his shoulder. Or, intermittently, during the movies. . . By the time he’d left, your tears had positively stained the white long sleeve tee he was wearing. 

He didn’t ever ask what it was about – who it was about. And you never told him. But you knew he wasn’t oblivious to who caused your emotional episode.

Now he was gone. Had been for about an hour. And Jake wasn’t home yet. Not that you fucking cared. 

You’d meant it when you told him what you did. Fuck him.

Though, the devastating matter was that you couldn’t decide if you were more mad at yourself or him. Everyday was a replay of the day in the kitchen. And you were sure he replayed it everyday, too. . . and he was definitely allowed to feel hurt after the horrendous shit you’d thrown at him.

But what was with the back and forth? Hot and cold? How he’d been okay the night with the mac and cheese? How he’d spent his time researching therapy for you to try? How he’d been quick to defend your song to his girlfriend? 

And, just as quickly, he was snapping at you. Getting upset out of nowhere. Instantly angry with you when you’d come out of the bathroom at the bar. Getting pissed for no reason at you and Josh for sitting in the car. Telling you last night that he didn’t care about you. 

Was that true? Did he not? It fucking killed you if it was true. But you couldn’t blame him if he didn’t care. Why would he?

You took the moment to stretch your legs out in the shower, watching as the water painted your skin with droplet after droplet. Then, you looked down at your tummy, extra round after a day of pigging out. 

Placing a pruned hand on it, you looked down at the part of your body that housed your human. Surprisingly (not), tears clouded your voice as you spoke to it, rubbing the skin reassuringly. “I’m so sorry that your mommy and daddy are so fucked up.”

After letting a few tears fall to meet the tight, rounded skin of your tummy, you forced your legs to stand up. The feat was proven a little difficult as they’d fallen asleep, but you still managed. Regretfully, you’d turned the water off. You didn’t want to leave the shower but you were officially prune-y as hell.

And, as you gathered a towel to wrap up in, you realized you were also very fucking tired.

You carefully attached the heart monitor’s adhesive to your chest like the instruction manual (and multiple videos you’d watched) told you to, and followed it with the monitor itself. You then checked to make sure the phone you’d been given with the kit was ready to track what it needed.

Finding your phone on the counter after you’d washed your face and brushed your teeth, you decided Josh deserved a thank you after putting up with you the last several days.

Especially after you’d just rocked his motherfucking world . . . and he’d been so cool about it.

God, you just loved him.

You, 10:17 p.m.: I’m so glad I have you. I mean it from the bottom of my heart that I wouldn’t make it through this pregnancy without you. And your love and amazing fucking support. I’d be lost without you.

And after you sent it, you began towel drying your hair, then brushed through any tangles the best you could. 

When you heard a ding! sound from the living room, you spent a few minutes thinking it was your imagination. But when you heard it a second time, you realized it was most likely not in your head, and that Jake was home. 

So, checking your appearance once more, you wrapped the towel as tight as you could around your body before shutting the light off and opening the door. 

You glanced up to see if he was in fact home, and the sight that met you had you stop in your tracks. 

Josh’s white phone case with the little triangle symbol he’d drawn on it one day at the B&G. 

In Jake’s hands. 

Jake’s face, looking at the screen of said phone, mouth open in shock.

And as soon as you closed the door to the bathroom, the smallest sound of it shutting, made his eyes slowly slide up from the phone to your face.

He held the phone up, showing you just what he’d seen. Fuck. 

“You’re pregnant?”

You took a careful step forward, the blood in your veins frazzled and vibrating. Deny deny deny. As long as you can, y/n. “What gives you the right to be in Josh’s phone? Your invasiveness really knows no fucking bounds these days,” you clipped, voice shaking in spite of yourself.

He blinked a couple of times, a smile forming on his mouth. A wide, sarcastic one, which turned into an astounded scoff. “Really? That’s what we’re going to focus on right no–?” He shook his head, clicking the phone shut before taking a few cautious steps towards you. “His face I.D.; it opens to me. I’m his fucking identical twin.”

“Prove it,” you challenged. 

“Was already planning on it,” he snipped. And right in your line of sight, he opened the phone, putting his face in front of it. Then, it was turned to show you. The same tantalizing screen as before. “Proven.”

“Well. . .,” you faltered, scrambling. “Why did you have it?”

“It was laying on the counter. I went to grab it and my keys,” he jingled the keys in his other hand. “I was going to take it to him,” he explained, sounding exasperated and patient all at once. An anomaly. “But when I picked it up, I looked down, and it opened.”

He took two steps back, once again, holding the phone up to show you the text screen. The gray bubble had never looked so horrifying as it did in that moment. The sweat accumulating on your forehead proved your entire skin care routine pointless. You were shaking. Your skin felt like it was going to fall off from the vibrations taking over underneath it.

“Now,” he started slowly. “Will you answer my question, please?” 

His voice broke on the last word and it triggered a single tear to trickle down your cheek. 

“Yes, I am.”

“Whose?”

“Really, Jake?” You questioned, the question making your heart break. How could he–? 

His eyes went soft momentarily, pleading with you. “I just need to hear you say it, y/n.”

“It’s yours, Jake. The baby is yours. Who the fuck else?”

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: this monstrous chapter was a fucking doozy and you already know i wanna talk about it!! come to my asks and we shall chat <333

oh, but i'm just wondering........ what do you think reader's safe place will be? ;) a place? a person? both? hmmm....

ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts! love youuuu <3

& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)

Taglist: @joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssoloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend, @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98

(and, due to t*mblr’s shitass guidelines, i will be adding the other tags in a reblog of the story!)

[burningcheese-merchant]

BurningCheese/GoldenSpice Playlist Vol.2

Decided to just remake the ship playlist I made a while ago instead of editing it because I'm lazy I got a lot of new songs to add and I don't want the original list to stay buried under all of my other nonsense posts. Will keep it pinned until I bother making my blog navigation masterpost

Special thank you to everyone who offered me song suggestions, whether in DMs, replies to the OG post, or in my ask inbox! I've really enjoyed a lot of the music I've come across because of you guys, both for ship reasons and in general. Consider this playlist a group project you helped put together! (And please feel welcome to keep sending suggestions, the list is ever-expanding and I actually will come back and update this periodically)

🔺Burning Spice's POV

🧀Golden Cheese's POV

Bold = song is particularly ship-coded imo

(*) I just think it's cute/funny/I like imagining them dancing/singing to it together

(**) non-English song, look up English translation for ship feels plz

(***) wrote a fic inspired by the song at least to some degree haha

Mindless Self Indulgence - Shut Me Up🔺***

Fall Out Boy - I Don't Care🔺

Mariah Carey - Obsessed 🧀

Three Days Grace - I Hate Everything About You🔺🧀

Lady Gaga - Bad Romance🔺🧀

Dead or Alive - You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)🔺*

Mindless Self Indulgence - What Do They Know?🔺

Britney Spears - Toxic 🧀

Fish in a Birdcage - Rule #34🔺

Shayfer James - Filthy Habit🔺

King Gnu - SPECIALZ🔺🧀**

Mindless Self Indulgence - This Hurts🔺***

Jack Black - Peaches🔺*

Arctic Monkeys - R U Mine?🔺

Lady Gaga - Poker Face 🧀

Olly Murs (feat. Flo Rida) - Troublemaker 🧀***

Rihanna - Where Have You Been🔺

Lady Gaga - Judas 🧀

Miike Snow - Genghis Khan🔺

The Orion Experience - Obsessed With You🔺*

Nine Inch Nails - Closer🔺***

Mindless Self Indulgence - 5TR82HE11🔺***

Air Traffic Controller - This Is Love🔺

Bad Omens - The Death Of Peace Of Mind🔺🧀

Isabel LaRosa - Favorite 🧀

Bloodhound Gang - The Bad Touch 🔺*

ENHYPEN - Bite Me🔺**

Scissor Sisters - I Can't Decide🔺(🧀 at some parts)

5 Seconds of Summer - Teeth🔺

Buerak - Культ Tела🔺**

Tom Lehrer - The Masochism Tango🔺

Lady Gaga - Disease 🧀

G-Eazy (with Halsey) - Him & I🔺🧀

Britney Spears - Baby One More Time🔺*

Blue Kid - Have To 🧀

Queens of the Stone Age - The Way You Used to Do🔺

Meg Myers - Desire🔺🧀

Blooom - Be Around🔺🧀

Carla's Dreams - Scara 2, Etajul 7🔺🧀**

Mondays (feat. Lucy) - Crazy For Love🔺*

Stela Cole - Love Like Mine 🧀

blackbear - queen of broken hearts🔺

Maneskin - I Wanna Be Your Slave🔺

Jason Derulo, Michael Bublé - Spicy Margarita🔺

Maretu - New Darling🔺**

Biz x ZERA (feat. SARM) - Schadenfreude🔺**

"Twiddlefinger"🔺 (I am flabbergasted that a goddamn Friday Night Funkin' meme mod song is so BurningCheese-core this is fucking ridiculous)

Maroon 5 - Animals🔺

PLVTINUM, Tarro - Champagne & Sunshine🔺

Carla's Dreams - Beretta🔺🧀**

пневмослон - меня это не страшит🔺**