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castielscaplan · 18 days ago

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Truth's Silence

Summary: After fooling around with Dean, you end up pregnant, scared, you go to Sam for advice.

WC: 1.1K

Warnings: angst, pregnancy

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Steve Rogers Version Here!

“You gonna tell him soon, Y/N?”

Sam’s voice was low, barely more than a murmur over the hum of the flickering overhead lights in the backroom of The Roadhouse. The place had emptied out hours ago—just the two of you now. He polished a glass behind the counter like he needed something to keep his hands busy, like he was trying not to pry too much.

You sat on the cracked leather stool, elbows on the bar, eyes glued to the swirling ring of condensation beneath your untouched water.

“He’s got a right to know,” Sam added gently.

Your fingers trembled slightly as they traced the rim of your glass. “He’s in the mafia, Sam.” The words hit the air with more weight than you expected. “He’s got blood on his hands every week. I see it on the cuffs of his sleeves. On his boots. He doesn’t even flinch anymore.”

Sam let out a quiet breath. “He still flinches when you cry.”

That stung.

“He’s not the kind of man who wants a child. You know that. He’s never said it, but he’s made it pretty clear. This life doesn’t have room for innocence.”

You were trying to convince yourself as much as you were trying to convince him.

“Dean would never hurt a child,” Sam said firmly.

“No,” you agreed, biting the inside of your cheek. “But he might not want this one. Especially if he thinks it complicates things. He’s paranoid. He’d accuse me of cheating before he ever thought he could be a father. He’d think I stepped out with Benny or someone in the crew.”

Sam raised an eyebrow and smirked faintly. “Well, you are always disappearing with Cas.”

Your glare could have leveled a man.

“Not helping, Samuel.”

He held up his hands in surrender, chuckling. But the worry lingered behind his eyes. “You’re not gonna be able to hide it forever. The second someone else notices, it won’t be you who gets to tell him.”

That fear alone had kept you awake most nights.

By the third month, you were vomiting every morning like clockwork. You’d started setting an alarm earlier just so you could throw up, brush your teeth, and crawl back into bed before Dean stirred.

He never questioned it. Thought it was nerves or stomach bugs or stress. He brought you ginger ale. Rubbed your back sometimes, but never pushed.

By the fourth month, the bump was showing under your loose shirts. You swore off fitted clothes entirely, claiming you were bloated, blaming too much diner food. Dean didn’t question it—he kissed your forehead and told you you were beautiful, even when your eyes were ringed with exhaustion.

You’d begged Garth to keep his mouth shut when the test came back positive.

He’d looked like he was going to pass out.

“You need to tell him,” he’d whispered, eyes darting around like Dean would burst through the wall. “Before someone else figures it out.”

That “someone else” turned out to be Castiel, two weeks later.

He walked into the auto shop just as you were shoving a wrench back onto the shelf, your shirt lifted over your slightly rounded belly as you tried to tuck it back into your jeans.

He froze. “You’re pregnant.”

You cursed softly and turned away, tugging the shirt down.

“Please,” you whispered. “Don’t say anything.”

His jaw clenched. Then he gave a tight nod. “He deserves to know. But I won’t betray you.”

“You think she’s hiding something?” Sam asked, sliding a beer across the bar to Dean later that week.

Dean grunted, eyes fixed on the bottle but not really seeing it. “She’s been different.”

“Different how?”

“Jumpy. Distant. She cries in the shower when she thinks I can’t hear. And she’s been wearing those goddamn hoodies in the middle of June.”

Sam pressed his lips together to hide the flicker of realization. “You think she’s cheating?”

Dean slammed the bottle down a little harder than necessary. “No. I mean—hell, I hope not. But... if it’s not that, then what the hell is it?”

Sam leaned in. “Maybe she’s just scared. She’s been through hell, Dean. We all have. But you—you’re not just a boyfriend. You’re Dean Winchester. You’re the guy who puts bullets in people who talk too loud. She might be afraid of your reaction.”

Dean didn’t answer. But his throat worked, and that said enough.

Seven months.

You stood in the bedroom, heart in your throat, hand resting over the curve of your belly. You’d stopped trying to hide it. You couldn’t. And tonight... tonight, you had to tell him.

You heard the familiar sound of the Impala pulling into the garage. Boots. Keys. The soft thud of his leather jacket hitting the hook by the door.

“Dean?” you called, voice thin.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he called back, then stepped into the room—and froze.

His green eyes locked on you. On the rounded swell of your stomach. The unmistakable curve beneath your tank top.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” Your voice cracked.

Dean’s brows furrowed. “Is it mine?”

The question was sharp, instinctual, and it made your breath catch.

“Yes,” you said without hesitation. “Dean, I swear—I’ve never—I would never—”

He crossed the room in three long strides, falling to his knees in front of you before you could finish the sentence. He didn’t touch you at first. Just looked up at you with a mixture of awe and heartbreak in his eyes.

“Seven months,” he whispered.

You nodded, tears falling freely now. “I was scared. I thought you’d think it was weakness. That it would ruin everything you’ve built. I didn’t want you to look at me and see a liability.”

Dean slowly reached out, resting both hands on your belly like he was afraid you’d disappear. “You should’ve told me.”

“I wanted to. I tried. But the longer I waited, the harder it got. And then I thought... maybe you’d be better off not knowing.”

He looked up, his voice cracking as he spoke. “There is nothing—nothing—that matters more to me than you.” He placed a kiss against the top of your belly, then another. “You think I’d pick blood and bullets over this?”

You were sobbing now, fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close.

“I’ll protect you both with everything I have,” he whispered. “I’ll love this kid the only way I know how—with everything I’ve got.”

He looked up, tearful and broken and so completely yours. “And if anyone so much as looks at you wrong? I’ll burn the world down.”

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penvisions · 6 months ago

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zest {chapter four}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Professor! Reader (formally known as Bartender! Reader)

Summary: Time is a funny thing, isn't it? You and Joel traverse the ups and downs of the pregnancy, doing your best to keep up.

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: canon typical language, reader is canonically mid-size and of hispanic origin, adult content, smut, oral (f receiving), use of daddy, age gap, utter filth between two infatuated people, p in v, unprotected p in v, pet names (darling, baby, love), teasing as a form of flirting -they're insufferable your honor, serious conversations, confessions of feelings of inadequacy, mentions of family trauma and drama, reader is in her own head in this, talks of pregnancy and childbirth, slight angst, road trip vibes, slight time jump(s), the photos used in the header are only a rough head cannon of what reader looks like and mostly for the ~vibes - nothing is set in absolute stone, i think that's it!

Fic Notes: this is a sequel series; the previous fic can be found here -> {garnish}

A/N: so proud of myself for not forcing this chapter, letting it sit and my mind wander about them as a whole for a few months really helped me to find my way back to them. special shoutout to @tuquoquebrute for sending in an ask ages ago for a baby shower scene, i hope it's everything you imagined and more

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

The hotel room is bathed in soft pink sunlight that glows through the drawn curtains, closed in the wake of your slight headache. But it’s the last thing on your mind as you let out a low, drawn-out moan. Your back is flush with the soft bed, unmade and the sheets are tangled and falling off the edge of it as Joel is nestled in them. Using them as a cushion for his knees atop the plush carpet of the room, just for an added comfort as he firmly holds your hips in place lavishes his tongue in swooping swirls over your clit.

You’re drenched, slick coating his lips and face as he buries it between your thighs. His grip tight around your thighs as he holds them open, ever so effortlessly keeping them from snapping shut around his ears as he practically makes out with your core. It’s messy the way your arousal seeps from you, coating his face, his saliva mixed in and running in thick drips down to soak the white sheets of the hotel bed.

The feel of his warm tongue tracing over your puffy lips and swollen nub, his thick fingers curled inside you and hitting that perfect spot that makes you clench tightly around them. The feel of his proud nose buried in the thatch of thick curls that sit right above it all, soaked too from the devotion he’s giving to you as the sun begins to peek up above the horizon.

The swell of your stomach prevents you from seeing anything other than the sweaty curls plastered to his forehead, the heat in the room and between your humming bodies stifling in the best way.

“My sweet girl, always taste so fucking good.” He pulls pleasure from your body like it’s his sole purpose in life, gently moving his fingers in and out as you throw your head back to shout out his name and clench tightly around them. His tongue replaces them as he licks up the release that smears across your inner thighs, scruff tingling over your skin in an overwhelming way.

“Ah, Joel, ‘s too much, baby.” He moves you up into the center of the bed, crawling over you. The heft of his cock drags over your thighs, smearing glistening precum as it does. And you whine, as he takes himself in the thick curl of his hand and taps the swollen head against your clit. Your hips jerk, you clench around nothing and his dark chuckle

“I think you like it,” He’s dragging himself through your slick folds, head catching just slightly against your entrance each time he does.

“F-fuck off,” You can’t help but slur, the empty threat cut off in a sharp gasp as he suddenly fills you, hands gripping around your knees to wrap them around his waist. He throbs where he’s nestled, and it makes your head swim.

“That’s such bad language, momma,” He tuts, teeth glinting as he smirks down at you. “Why don’t I work it all out of you before the baby comes, hmm?”

"Y-yes, daddy."

All you can do is dig your nails into his shoulders and hold on for dear life as he begins to snap his hips into the cradle of yours, pushing you both up the length of the bed with the force of his movements. In the back of your mind, you’re sure the people on the other side of the wall must hate your guts for being the annoying couple who can’t seem to keep their hands off of each other.

But honestly, you couldn’t care less. You’d take being the annoyingly smitten couple over being the one where sex becomes a routine, choreographed dance that takes place Tuesday nights with no lights on and underneath the covers. You’d take Joel at his most feral and spilling filth from sinfully delicious lips to the soft, slow and syrupy mornings any time, any day, for the rest of your life.

“Joel, I just really wanna go home, take a nice hot bath and get into bed before I have to start planning out the summer semester syllabus.” You feel the fatigue of the trip catching up with you, no matter how much fun it had been. The perfect little getaway has drained you as you enter your second trimester, body working overtime now, but thankfully the nausea seems to have worn off.

Beside you, Joel reaches out a hand to palm your thigh, understanding and concern wafting off of his focused frame in such an easy way. His brows furrow as he glances down at his phone in the cupholder when the screen flashes with a notification.

“C’mon, just lemme stop at the restaurant to grab somethin’ real quick. Check on Ellie, she’s been blowing up my phone about when we get back.” His voice holds your attention more than his words, it’s dipped low, almost a deep whine as he takes your hand in his and raises it to press a kiss to the top of it.

Your new ring catches the sunlight and softens you just as much as the man’s words. He’s such a good father, to the two kids he’s raised all alone. He’s a good man, who even if he prolongs the return to the house, who only wants to look out for those in his care.

“Joel,” You can’t help the whine of your own voice, lips pouting as the man turns a conflicted expression your way as his fingers tighten where they tangle with yours.

“I’ll make it worth your while, darlin’, please?”

“Fine, but I want truffle pasta for dinner.” You jostle his hand in yours, setting them atop your thigh.

“Done.”

Half an hour later, he pulls up to the front of the restaurant, parking the truck on the curb outside the public entrance. He rolls the windows down and you do a double take. There are colorful balloons floating in the gentle breeze, bouncing against each other. They make you smile even as you remember what a hassle parties were as a member of the food industry. You only hope that those on shift were adequately caffeinated and compensated for the hell they were about to endure.

Joel disappears through the front entrance, little bell dinging happily and he’s not gone but one second before he’s at the passenger door. He’s pulling it open from the unlocked handle, looking at you with a small smirk through the lowered pane of glass as you enjoy the breeze through the open window.

“Sweet girl, need you to step in for a second.”

“I’m all road tripped out, dios mio, Joel.” You groan out, really just wanting to be back him and swaddled in clean, fluffy blankets. “I need a bath and some serious skincare.”

He only raises a thick brow and you motion to the slightly wrinkled sundress you’re wearing, the slight bump of your stomach visible beneath the flowing fabric and the seatbelt over your lap. Your hair is pulled up into a haphazard clip in the back with the grown out fringe you had cut over the holidays framing your face. He promises that you look good, the light face of tinted lotion and mascara you put on alongside a natural lip good enough for what he wanted to show you.

Grumbling, you retrieve you phone from the center console beside his. Both phones are pushed into the hands that help you to step out and down from the taller cab.

“Better not be your way of getting me to-“ Your thoughts of helping to check over a liquor purchase fly out the window as soon as your eyes catch the bright scene laid out before you.

Your mouth falls open as you walk through the door being held open by Joel. The entire dining room is done up with sage green tablecloths, more balloons, and fresh flowers are everywhere from the center of the tables to the ledge of the bar. There’s a giant banner over the wall that houses the door to the kitchen. Donning the words ‘CONGRATS ON GETTING KNOCKED UP’. Below it is another slightly smaller one that says ‘AND GETTING ENGAGED TOO, I GUESS’. You snort at the phrasing, knowing that it had to have been a battle at the printers to get it done. And when you breathe air back into your lungs, the smell of fried food makes your stomach growl. Your face breaks out into a wide grin when you see Sarah and Ellie approaching you with their own wide smiles.

They’ve got a crown of flowers, you favorite. Sarah fixes your hair, loose from the clip it had been in and Ellie fastens it in place with a few bobby pins.

“Ready to celebrate, cause we sure as hell are!” Ellie exclaims while Sarah jumps up and down in front of you both, buzzing with energy she seems to have endlessly.

It’s a blur of greetings and photos, of laughter and mocktails. Your hunger from the drive forgotten as you just enjoy the time with your friends and acquired family. Maria and Tommy are floating around alongside the girls to ensure everything is going smoothly, soft music playing over the speakers and presents are placed on their own table. There are so many and you feel choked up over the outpouring of love and support from the community you found in a city so far away from the one you come from.

A lot of the staff from the restaurant are here too, the tightly knit group of about twenty or so from the kitchen staff to the servers. All showing their appreciation and excitement for you and Joel as you navigate this part of your lives. It means so much to you that they didn’t judge you for leaving them to do what you wanted, for focusing on yourself and landing the teaching job you always wanted.

Sure, the timing isn’t right. You’ve only done two semesters, going into a third summer one in a few weeks, but you will make it work. Either offer an online course once your maternity leave is up or even take Joel up on his offer to cut his hours to weekends so he can look after the little one during your proposed class times once you decide to go back to work. Who knows? All of it needs to be discussed, and you’re slowly wading through the conversations as they crop up and thoughts are had.

No pressure, he said. To talk about things unless you wanted to and you pressed the same assurance into his skin with your whispered words.

After the first hour or so, you’re seated with Millie and your best friend at an empty table. Both of them gifting you cards with promises to babysit and bring you takeout any time you needed it as you traverse the remainder of your pregnancy and once the baby is born.

“Look at you, hot momma. Landed the head chef and a baby all in one move. You guys are going to have the cutest fucking baby.” Nia caresses a hand over your shoulder, her nails a light scratch over your skin that feels really good as small waves of anxiety begin to wash over you. She knows, she can see it. Has always been able to see it, you lean into her, resting your head on her shoulder as she pivots to wrap her arms around you. “You deserve it, you deserve everything.”

“Do you know what the gender is yet?” Millie is smiling at the casual intimacy you both display, thinking back to all the nights you two displayed the same after a rough shift, all the smoke breaks and nights out that you shared. Friendship melting her heart, your happiness melting her heart after seeing what a rough year you had endured before this.

“We find out later this week, my blood work came back a little funky last time so instead of an ultrasound, they hooked me up to an IV and told me to rest for a bit while they monitored some stuff.”

“It’s the stuff from your dad’s side, isn’t it?” Nia’s arms tighten around you, worries spoken knowing the things you don’t like to share.

“Yeah, but it’s nothing to worry about. I’m pretty sure it was just elevated blood pressure which for me would be a normal reading and my blood sugar was a little high. They worry about diabetes, but she said my body is just trying to figure out how to process things and find a new balance with this little one taking up so much room now.” You hold a hand to your stomach, gently rubbing at the hardness you feel there now. Soft curves make up your frame, but your stomach is swollen a little more than typical for your physique, giving away the pregnancy now.

“He looks so grumpy.” Mille giggles around her sip of tonic water with grenadine. You follow her gaze and see Joel standing over the table covered in dishes and desserts. His hands are on his hips and he’s frowning as he dissects all the offerings. He almost seems lost in thought with the way his lips purse and roll, pulling a giggle from you too.

“That’s the ‘there ain’t nothin’ here I wanna eat’ look.”

At your stage whispered words, he looks up over at you and his brow furrows even deeper. You haven’t wandered over to the table yourself but he quickly looks back down at it as your trio breaks into a full on fit of laughter. He begins making a plate before heading your way and you try to school your expression even as your heart picks up a tick.

“Gonna make you that pasta you wanted, but here’s a few things to tide you over, momma.” And he’s setting the laden ceramic down with a wink before moving back across the dining room to disappear through the swinging door into the kitchen.

“He calls you momma? Oh my god, swoon.” Nia fans herself with her napkin as she looks your way.

“Do you ever call him ‘daddy’?” Millie’s question is conspiratorial as she leans in, as if afraid he might hear her even through the walls and light hum of conversation that fills the room.

You quickly help yourself to the food he brought over, avoiding both their eyes as you do so. Heat flares high in your cheeks and down your neck, the word bringing up memories that glitter across your skin.

“Oh. My. God. You do.” Nia sets her drink down and stares at you in awe.

“I mean, I would call him daddy if he asked me to.” Millie whispers as she sneaks a chocolate covered strawberry from your plate.

“He didn’t have to ask me.” Is all you say around a mouthful of food at the same time Nia exclaims that’s her boss.

“He started off as this one’s boss too!” She defends, her reprimand falling short as her expression cracks and giggles erupt into the air.

“Yeah, that was part of the fun.” You smirk, remembering the first time it slipped from between your lips as his body moved in tandem with yours. It had only made him growl and pick up the pace, you feel the shock of pleasure at the memory lights you up and you excuse yourself to cross the room with your plate in hand.

“She’s so gonna go make out with her daddy in the kitchen.”

“Girl, I would to if that was my man, fuck I need to get me some of what she’s obviously having. Minus the baby though.”

“Hey, momma, ready to get going?” Joel is gently wiping the excess gel from your exposed belly from the ultrasound you just had. He’s quiet, mind whirling at the news of having a boy. Something that had made your heart swell when you pictured a little toddler version of the man with unruly curly hair and a gap-toothed smile so wide you had gasped when the technician had made the announcement.

“I don’t know anything about boys.” You blurt out, worry and excitement swirling around in your chest and heart. You would’ve been happy with any gender but you find yourself so enthralled at the realization of having a boy. A baby boy. Pudgy cheeks, scraped knees, strong little hands, and then a harsh kick has your hand flying to sooth the ache as it prickles low in your stomach almost like a cramp.

“Oof, felt that one. He’s a little spitfire like his momma, ain’t he?” The vibration of Joel’s chuckle is heartwarming, he’s over the moon. His brown eyes glitter as he looks up at you and you realize he’s got unshed tears in his eyes.

“Joel, I don’t know anything about boys.” You admit in a low voice, worry striking up and beginning to wright down your limbs.

“That’s okay, we can figure it out together.” And his smile is dazzling, teeth glinting in the fluorescents and the dimple in his right cheek is visible beneath his stubble. Even as a few tears brim over and race down his face.

The rest of the day is spent picking out a pastel green and honey gold combination for the nursery. The cart is full of supplies needed for painting and a bulky box of baby proofing effects for the house. He steers it around the garden section of the hardware store as you drift among the plants, trailing fingers faintly over the leaves as you inspect them. It’s a little late for any planting to be done, but he’s agreed to grab a few ferns to place in the room to give it some life until the one it’s being decorated for comes along.

Paint-stained hands wander over ruined clothing as chaste kisses turn heated. Joel licks into your mouth as he pins you to the last white wall of the room across from the one you share upstairs. Your moan is loud and unfiltered as he slots a knee between your legs and grinds it up into the seam between your legs. Your dress doing nothing to shield you from the movement against your core, the rough denim a heady feel through the fabric of your underwear.

“Love the sounds you make, sabrosa.” The timbre of Joel’s voice vibrates through your chest and you sneak your nails underneath the collar of his shirt to dig into his bare shoulders. “Fuck, you sound so fucking good, you drive me crazy.”

“G-good.” You wheeze out just as one of his hands pulls the thin strap of your dress down off your shoulder and kisses the exposed skin around the smears of pain he pressed there. His teeth nip and suck all the way to your chest, where he pulls one of your breasts over the fabric. He swirls his tongue around your nipple, his eyes dilating at the sight of how it hardens and perks up under his attention. When his teeth clamp around the sensitive bud, a yelp sounds into the air as your hips buck against his flexed thigh.

“F-fuck, Joel,” You pant, unable to think with the heat of pleasure scorching over every inch of your body.

As soon as he draws a blinding release from you, he carefully guides you to the floor and smothers kisses all over your face, tongue tangling with yours as you open up for him. Letting him devour you as aftershocks tingle all over your skin. And when he finally frees himself from the jeans that are now stained on the leg to slide inside of your fluttering core, you sigh.

It quickly turns into a squeal as you feel thick, cool paint glide over the tarp you both lay on, tangled together in more ways than one. Shocked laughter springs into the air as he reaches out to press a hand into the liquid and presses a palm in the center of your chest. The giggle you let out cuts his rumbles off into a harsh gasp. The feeling of you clenching around him as you do so tightening around him so tight.

“Fuck, your laughter is the best sound.” His hips grind into you, the tip of his cock hitting that perfect spot and all laughter cuts off, turning into deep grunts and wonton moans as he begins to thrust against you.

As the days winds down, Joel busies himself with transferring the laundry over into the dryer and cleaning up the kitchen while you wander back upstairs into the finished nursery. The tarp laid out over the hardwood shows strange streaks and handprints while you sip a freshly made tea from a ceramic mug that was a present at your shower.

You try to hide the tears when Joel’s steps ascend the stairs but he senses them all the same.

“You okay, sweet girl?” His arms wrap around you from the back, one wide palm flattening in the center of your chest. Reaching out to place your mug on a newly assembled dresser, you place a hand over his and wheeze in a deep breath. The other reaches up to thread your fingers through the hair at the back of his head and you nod.

“Just happy tears, I promise.”

Four months ago if someone had told you where you would be, you would’ve laughed in their face.

You never expected to be laying out on a large towel atop warm sand underneath a large shade and four months pregnant. Joel is in one of the many chairs he brought along, resigning to sit in it when you all but shooed him away from where you settled in the sand. It was formed just right underneath your back and neck, giving you the relief of the weight you’ve put on in your belly. The swell of it was still small, something you brought up at a doctor visit but were assured it was normal with the weight you already carried.

Joel’s hand in yours in that moment made you feel a little better paired with the doctor’s soft words, they weren’t reprimanding you for being mid-size, simply explaining the differences it would cause in your pregnancy from an unjudgmental perspective. It still bothers you, just a little. Eating healthy and trying to maintain a good balance always the goal, but school and work and being social and exercising- well, frankly it was a lot to handle on a good day. Let alone a bad one.

Now, though, you’ve got a good reason to stick to a better diet. The baby boy you’re nurturing is of the utmost importance. Joel makes sure to cook you anything you’re craving, the meals he provides from the restaurant or whips up at home are balanced. He’s been amazing, Sarah and Ellie too. They’ve all pitched in to help where it’s needed.

Hell, they packed and loaded up the truck and then let you take the front seat beside Joel late yesterday afternoon before the drive down to the coast was made. The hotel was nice, a suite booked for the family. Three rooms, a living room, a small kitchenette, a balcony overlooking the beach from the fourth floor. It was nice. It was perfect.

The sun is glinting off your ring, held up as you admire the way it looks settled nicely on your finger. A wave of guilt rises and washes away in tune with the waves crashing softly on the shoreline. It was expensive, it’s such a nice piece of jewelry. You told Joel he didn’t need to get a wedding band to go alongside it, that the engagement ring was enough. But you suspect he already has one hiding somewhere.

When Joel suddenly stirs behind you, you shift your head to peer at him in an upside down glance from beneath your sunglasses. He’s reaching into the bag at his side, the one that he was adamant about carrying himself even though it contained all the things you would both need during the day out at the beach. He’s murmuring under his breath, camera suddenly in his hand and you scramble up as you realize he’s aiming it at you and the red light is on- displaying very clearly that he’s recording.

“Hey! No, no, no. No videos!” You try and cover yourself with a nearby towel, two piece doing nothing to hide much of anything. It was enough to feel secure walking around the shallows and to lay out, but to be filmed- nope, not enough.

“C’mon, darlin’, you look amazin’. Glowing like a goddess in the sun and decorated with that pretty ring.” His deep voice makes your skin tingle, your stomach dip, a tightening pull behind your hips.

“Shut up, you’re just horny, old man.” You deadpan, turning away from the camera and beginning the task of rising from the ground. You make sure to not aim your back or front at the camera, not wanting to give him the chance to record your chest or ass as you manage to stand. Bringing a hand up to look out at the rest of the set up from where you now stand outside the protection of the shade.

Sarah and her “coworker” are splashing around in the shallows, Ellie and her “friend” are building a sandcastle with the youngest member of your group, and Tommy and Maria are enjoying the small break of entertaining a one-year-old.

“You got me there.” And his grin is blinding, his face lit up with happiness and affection.

“Mhm.” You just raise an eyebrow at him, taking in the way he looks as he stands now too, in his red swim trunks. It’s criminal how good he looks, all broad shoulders and thick thighs. Fuck, he looks good and you feel yourself grow slick the longer you aim an unimpressed expression his way.

“Gotta pee.” You break the staring contest gracefully, pulling on the sun cover you brought along with you, it had been your makeshift pillow while you lay about.

“Alright then.” And then he presses a few buttons on the camera and wraps an arm around your waist.

Half an hour later, with twin ice cream cones held in tight hands, you share giddy chuckles and giggles with him as you make the trek back across the sand toward your set up.

There are flowers everywhere, balloons, and everyone is standing up the moment you get closer.

“Joel…” You trail off, seeing that Tommy is now wearing a graphic shirt with a tux printed on the front paired with his own board shorts. The girls also have their sun covers on, pale green to match the deep olive of yours.

“Alright, so, I know it isn’t the courthouse like we agreed…” Tears well up in your eyes, warm in comparison to the cold sensation of the ice cream you just swallowed a giant lick of. “But, I figured you would like this a little better.”

With barely held back tears, you let him take the last few bites of your napkin wrapped waffle cone and toss it into the trash bag underneath the folding table. And you marry the man who captured your attention some two years ago guide you to stand in the middle of your found family to exchange the vows you never thought you’d get the chance to at the guidance of his brother who learned the monologue online specifically for the occasion. The man who you love and loves you back, sharing sticky sweet kisses to seal the deal.

It’s better than you ever imagined, better than a courthouse and the formality of standing in front of an officiant that’s done it countless times in the same day. Your heart is full as you feel his arms snake around your body and pull you close, his smiling face and crinkled crow’s feet one of the best views in the whole world.

As the sun begins to dip low, you hold his hand tight as you walk with him through the waves crashing around your ankles, another beautiful ring stacked alongside the one he gave you when he proposed to match the simple gold band he now wears on his own finger. They glint in the warm sunlight and you wish that everyday could feel like this, that you get to spend every moment with the man who holds you tight and sways with you in the water to a song in his head. Twirling you carefully, away and then back to him for your body to lean into his with his hands wrapped securely around you.

“Love you, sweet girl, so fucking much.”

“I love you too, Joel Miller.”

The summer semester starts today, Ellie acting as your teaching assistant alongside a young man who you’ve never met before. Only his name on a file and a long list of recommendations. He’s got another two schools listed under his education, both ivy league in name. They’re both due in your office any second now, you realize as you glance at the clock ticking away on the wall. The papers in your hand, copies of the syllabus and the reading list are warm from the printer. The papers need to be organized and stapled into packs for the students to receive once you mid-morning course begins.

Right now, you’ve got a hot tea and a few crackers paired with cheese and fruit in front of you to keep your stomach from lurching. Nausea still rises up but nowhere near as badly as it had during your first trimester. A snack every three hours between meals helps, though you know you need to work on consuming more liquids. The excessive peeing is something new as more pressure weighs down on your bladder and you are not a fan.

You’re about to text Ellie and see if she’s okay when the door to your office suddenly swings open.

No knock, no voice announcing their arrival- and you’re met with the figure of someone familiar.

He recognizes you when his eyes finally land on you at the desk, a sweep of the office taken in first.

And it’s the guy from the coffee shop in Dallas that shoved you so hard you fell to the ground.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the woman who swings a pretty mean right hook. Should you be working in your condition? Because if I remember correctly, your boyfriend seemed pretty concerned about you being out and about.”

previous chapter || next chapter

taglist: @hiddenbabynyc @jessthebaker @clevergirl74 @anavatazes

@samiamproductions @76bookworm76 @tuquoquebrute @sarap-77 @koshkaj-blog

@corazondebeskar-reads @ozarkthedog @littlemisspascal @endlessthxxghts

@its-nebuleuse @guiltyasdave @sawymredfox @cumberpegg @grandanchorkitten

@noisynightmarepoetry @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @pazizz @pullingattheroots

@bunniboo0015 @anoverwhelmingdin @copperhalfcent @starry-eyes-love

@theoraekenslover

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jollywizardwitch · 1 year ago

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"I've Been Impregnated By A Vampire, Of Course I'm Freaking Out!" Miguel O'Hara x Pregnant! Reader

Warnings: (Read this if you want, Man.) Blood-Crying-Touching (Not sexually, just intimate)-Biting-Yelling

As you stared at the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter, you couldn't help but recall what had caused this. Only about three weeks prior, you and your husband, Miguel, had gotten a little.... more sexual and.... intimate than usual. However, you never thought it would get so far as for you to get pregnant. It started with simple teasing.... And the occasional bite of his fangs that drew a dark crimson liquid from your body, but apparently it truly had gotten somewhat out of hand. What would Miguel think? Would he be upset that you were pregnant? I mean, he was a busy man. What if he thought a child would just be an inconvenience?

Your thoughts were interrupted as the man who had gotten you into this situation walked through the front door.

"Mi Amor! Estoy en casa!" Miguel called to you through the halls of your home.

"I'm in the bathroom! One minute!" You called back, your nerves going haywire, your brain spiraling with thousands of thoughts at once.

You started to tear up, clutching your head out of frustration. You couldn't tell him! It would ruin your relationship! What if he would want a divorce?! Ugh! No, no, no.... What if-

"Querida? Are you alright? What's going on in there?" You heard Miguel speak through the door, knocking softly.

All your brain was able to comprehend was that you were caught. 'Oh. Shit.'

"I'm coming in, okay?" You watched as the door handle turned softly, revealing your husband, who stood with a concerned expression on his face.

"Carino?" Miguel immediately rushed to your side, taking your hand in his.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" He asked softly, wiping your tears gently with his free hand. You couldn't help but look at the pregnancy test, which then caused Miguel to look at it, his eyes widening.

"Y-Y/N? What is this?" He asked breathlessly, taking the small item in his fingers.

"M-Miguel, it's not what it looks lik-" You were interrupted by his soft, caring voice.

"Y/N... It looks like you're pregnant." He gently cupped your cheek in his hand, looking at you with gentle, understanding rusty-orange iris'.

You didn't speak for a few moments, completely muting everything, your mind going blank as you realized what was happening.

"Are you... freaking out? You're looking a little.... Dista-" Now it was your turn to interrupt.

"I've been impregnated by a vampire! Of course i'm freaking out!" You now had tears streaming down your cheeks, unable to catch the breath you had lost as soon as you checked the pregnancy test almost twenty minutes ago.

He gently intertwined his fingers with yours. "Mi Vida, please, calm down. Everything will be fine, just breathe...."

One hour Afterwards:

Miguel held you close as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, gently caressing your stomach as well. His strong arms stayed wrapped around you, comforting you, and easing your nerves.

And for once since seeing the test for the first time, you knew that it would be alright. As long as your amor eterno was by your side.

Mi Amor- My love

Estoy en casa- I'm home

Querida/Carino- Dear

Mi Vida- My life

Amor Eterno- Eternal love

#Miguel O'Hara #Pregnant! reader #Pregnant!#Pregnant #Spanish #Spider-man #Miguel x reader

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luimagines · 1 year ago

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Pinky! I'm back, why doesn't a Lynel emoji exist? As it would be super funny. I just need a Lynel and the farm and you know who I am. The one with the Lynel farm.

So to cut to the chase. These headcanons of Bunny!Legend kicked something in my brain and I think it would be cute for Reader but funny for the chain and embarrassing for Legend.

I was a bunny owner myself and I know, that bunnies do nest when they are expecting. So we know that his Dark World form bleeds sometimes into his hylian form. So I think, if Legend has a pregnant S/O. He would go to their shared bedroom and build a nest/ burrow/ den. As soon as his bunny instincts tell him, he will be getting kits.

He will find it embarrassing as soon as he realises what he is actually doing, while Reader finds it endearing. He also sleeps automatically so that he protects Reader and their stomach with his body. Even when Reader turns around, he will turn them back so he can protect them with his kits. Reader is his mate, he has to protect them.

But if the Chain finds out about the little nest that once was a bed. Legend is not going to live it down. Sky and Twilight will tease him relentlessly, but Reader takes the blame in front of them all and says they did it as they miss Legend so much and Reader is pregnant so they can pass it down pregnancy hormones. Legend knows that they did it to protect his pride as they know how much he hates his other form. Legend is glad but also feels guilty as they take the "blame" on their pregnant body.

But if they try to make fun of Legend as he is very protective and soft towards and around Reader. Reader will show that you should never mess with Legend's pregnant S/O. A mother becomes a grizzly bear as soon as they see their baby in danger but their love for Legend strong enough to put them in a similar state and pregnancy hormones, they are dangerous. Damn, Reader is suddenly a WWE fighter and beats the crap out of them, John Cena would be proud as he didn't know he had a hylian child, they even got a chair to smack the boys. All of them got a beating except for Hyrule as he is an innocent baby in their eyes and Time. Wind learns flying. Time didn't do anything so he "just" got a scolding for doing nothing to prevent the group from teasing their hero.

After that the Chain has a new juice to drink "Respect Reader Juice". Legend has to calm them down, normally it's the other way around, as stress isn't good for the baby. Warriors thanks him silently. Wind comes back and asks for another round. Wild wants to fly too! Twilight has to control those two. He drinks "Respect Women Juice", "Respect Pregnant Women Juice" so now he is drinking "Respect Pregnant Reader Or You Turn Into A Punching Bag Juice". Pregnant people are scary.

But I also think Legend would be in a pickle. He needs to travel with the group to slay the Shadow. But Reader is pregnant with his child/ children. In his paranoid mind, he is we all would be paranoid after we go through the same shit he did, he pictures the worst case scenarios. Ravio is a coward, he is incapable of protecting Reader and his kits. In fact, he is sure Ravio would run away as soon as some of Legend's enemies or even monsters from the Shadow come to hurt Legend psychologically. He would break down, if he sees his family dead and knowing, that he wasn't able to protect them! He would lose his will to live. Even if the boys try to cheer him up, nobody would be able to do it as Legend worked so hard for his family only to lose them! So of course, something in his mind he wants to protect them but he definitely doesn't want to take Reader with him or they are really a walking target! And even if Reader says he should go. He can't just pack up and leave! So the group stays until Reader calms Legend down so isn't in a paranoia episode until then the group has to wait and respect whatever Legend's choice is, even if they need his help. Time understands him, he has Twilight as his descendant and he knows how scared he was as Twilight was injured. He would probably react the same if Malon was pregnant as he also doesn't want to lose his loved ones. So he would even persuade the others, that Legend's choice is his to make not theirs. He would explain, that Legend wants to be there when his kit is born, learns to walk, learns to speak, he wants to hear its first words. He just wants to be there and have a kinda peaceful life since the beginning and maybe Hylia did want him to give him that with making Reader pregnant with his kits.

Maybe a Zebra emoji? Honestly, shame on them for not having a lynel emoji.

I actually don't know much about having bunnies either! But I know they stomp when they're mad!

But pregnancy hormones are no joke, what so ever. Especially when they're mad.... Or should I say hopping mad?

.... I'll see myself out.

And poor Legend, worrying his poor little head about every little thing because he wants everything to be nice and safe and homey. Just let the man raise his family in peace. :(

#pinky replies #pregnant! reader #anon headcanons #bunny! legend

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loveanddeepdick · 9 months ago

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ᯓ★ babydaddy!toji would never admit that he got jealous when you were around guys your age. he’d never get insecure, no, but he felt a deep pang of jealously in his chest. like he prayed that he had been born later so he could be more similar to you. your relationship with him was complicated. you were dating on and off but finally just settled as friends with benefits (who took care of a ridiculously cute baby together).

your parents often asked you why you dated a guy who was less than a decade away from being your father. your friends did the same too, not seeing the appeal in being with a “broke old man”. you never understood why toji just scoffed and looked away. it was out of character since he’d usually just cuss people out.

babydaddy!toji who let his jealousy show a little too much when you ran into an old high school friend of yours while you were out shopping. toji had to piss and you were waiting outside when he came up to you. shit, you didn’t even recognize him at first and the conversation was merely small talk but when toji came out, he had his arm around your waist, his hands coming down a little too low.

“this is your uh.. boyfriend, yeah?”, you friend asked, his eyes immediately going to the hand on your waist. most people just assumed you were single again.

“you could say that..”, you sheepishly replied, trying to swat toji’s hand away.

“tsk why’re you acting like i didn’t just dick you down and you didn’t carry my baby, ma? course you’re mine”, toji scoffed, looking away.

your eyes dart from your friend’s to his and it finally clicked. he was jealous. with a small smile, you excused yourself and tugged on the hem of toji’s shirt, signaling him to walk out to his car. the walk there was filled with short protests from him and silence from you. of course, he didn’t mean it, he loved this kind of attention from you. as you got to his car you rummaged through his pants pocket to grab his keys—not being shy to graze his dick—and unlocked the car.

babydaddy!toji who’d never admit he was jealous, even when you two were making out in the middle of a mall parking lot with your hand on his crotch.

“admit it, you still—ah, you still love me and you were jealous”

“course i fuckin love you—fuck yeah,keep your hand there—we’re long over, ma. didn’t you say we were just friends with benefits?”

“you’re avoiding the question, toji”

he had his hands all over you at this point, tugging at your shirt but you pulled away and furrowed your eyebrows.

“admit that you were jealous, old perv”

“fuck—fine. i was jealous. i hate seeing you with men younger than me. makes me feel old. happy now, doll?”, he leaned in again, grabbing your face as you kissed back with a smirk.

“yeah, i’m elated”, you grinned, trailing your hand up to play with his dark happy trail and dipping it in his sweatpants.

“don’t be a fuckin brat, ma. m’gonna give you a second snotty little shit if you keep this up”, toji growled, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck and onto your collarbone

“yeah?“, you smirked, tangling your fingers in his hair as you guided him down, “keep that promise and maybe we’ll get married”

babydaddy!toji who was definitely going to take you in the backseat for hours. fuck driving home.

babydaddy!toji who nearly died at the spot from the news of you being pregnant not with just one baby, but twins. you ended the year with a ring and a freshly painted nursery.

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x reader smut #i want him #CAN HE GET ME PREGNANT #rina thinking 📝

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gutsby · 2 months ago

Text

Raw

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel begs to cum inside you.

Warnings: 18+. If y’all don’t like an age gap and a nasty, nasty breeding kink, DO NOT read this shit—I’m serious. Unprotected p-in-v. Daddy kink. Jealous!Joel. Feral!Joel. Cumplay à la sucking Joel’s dick clean after he fucks you.

Note: This is a one shot in the Waiting Game universe. If I had to guess, I’d say it takes place between Homemade & Ruined!

Another Note: ‘Sweet Emotion’ by Aerosmith is the song Joel’s listening to when he’s trying to kill his boner LOL.

Word count: 3.5k

Joel’s mind was always buzzing with bad ideas.

He’d left for work that morning with his dick as hard as steel, balls as heavy as rocks, and you, gorgeous and naked and entirely unfucked in his king-sized bed.

Idiot that he was, he forgot to buy condoms last week. You’d cleared all thirty-six of the rubbers he’d had during your most recent visit from college, and since then, Joel had been meaning to restock, but it just slipped his mind—now, he was suffering the consequences of that oversight in spades, as he hadn’t been able to get his typical fill of you before he left for work. Or last night.

You’d so sweetly suggested some 69 action after he’d picked you up from the airport the night before, knowing just how badly you wanted each other—despite the fact that it was three A.M. and you happened to be ovulating. But it wasn’t meant to be. No sooner had Joel shucked off his boots, jeans, boxers, and shirt and crawled into the space beside you in bed than you were passed out. Snoring loudly and lying splayed between his sheets without the faintest idea of how horny the old man was.

There is something very wrong with me, he thought.

He’d been so pent-up and wild with thoughts of you writhing underneath him, cunt snug around his cock, that he hadn’t even been able to rub one out after that. It was like some maggot had crawled its way inside his head and had him needing insane things. Stupid things.

Shit that would legitimately get him locked up, or kicked to the doghouse, if he ever shared these thoughts aloud.

He wanted to pump you full of cum.

He craved the feeling of you leaking him.

He felt an urge to fill you like he never had before.

Had he really forgotten to buy those condoms last week? Or had it been the workings of his own subconscious mind, begging him to test the waters of what you would look like flush with that milky white substance and drip—

Shit.

Joel almost spilled his piping hot two-dollar coffee from the gas station onto his pants. Again. He cut the wheel and made the turn, set the cup in its little holder, and, without a second thought for his own well-being, cranked the car stereo to fifty. Fuck his hearing.

‘SWEEEEEEEET EMOOOOOTION!’

That should do the trick.

It seemed deafening himself with classic rock was the only way Joel could keep some semblance of composure today. Admittedly, it worked wonders. He learned it was much harder to stay horny when your head was ringing.

Of course, it had been just his luck that before he’d been able to stop by H.E.B. to buy rubbers on his lunch break, you’d called and said you needed a ride from the repair shop. Apparently, your dad’s truck was all kinds of fucked up and he’d asked you to drop it off at the mechanic that afternoon. You’d needed a ride home after, and Joel had only too happily, and hornily, obliged.

He was still stiff as shit pulling into the parking lot a minute later. He reached for the radio dial again but quickly found that he’d turned it all the way to its limit.

His phone buzzed in his pants.

Your name was on the screen.

I gotta fill out some bullshit paperwork. Come on in.

You must’ve seen him park the Bronco from inside.

Is that you blasting Aerosmith in your car? 🤨

Joel let out a sigh and shut off the engine.

Readjusting his rock-hard cock in his jeans, he went in.

And the moment he stepped in there, he regretted it. Joel got exactly one foot inside the door before his eyes nearly bugged out of his head and his jaw hit the floor.

You were signing paperwork alright—bent over the front desk where everyone in the waiting room of the repair shop could see right up your miniskirt. Joel choked.

There had to be fifteen men in there, at least. All but one old guy dozing off in the corner were gawking at your backside pushed up in the air. Joel saw you shuffle some papers around, eyeball a form and pose a question to the man behind the desk, who was also trying his damndest not to stare, and then hum something low. You laughed.

You were so naïve.

As if a switch had flipped in his head and every thought thenceforth was from a place of being an overprotective, asshole-ish, caveman of a guy, Joel strode in, scowling.

He shot pointed, putrid looks of disdain at every shameless voyeur drinking you in with their eyes, and, to his surprise, a couple turned their gazes guiltily away.

That’s right. Keep your fucking eyes to yourself.

Then, without even really meaning to think it:

She’s all mine. So don’t get your hopes up.

Would anyone in there think you were with him? Did it even matter? In that moment, Joel didn’t give a shit. He just walked in with his head up, jaw clenched, and eyes shooting daggers at every scumbag who dared to keep looking. He approached the front desk just as you turned

“Oh! Hey.” You breathed a sound of surprise, smiling. “You scared the shit out of me. I’ll just be a minute.”

You had about thirty seconds before he yanked you out by that little skirt and drilled you on the hood of his car.

Instead of saying that, though, Joel just frowned.

“C’mon, kid, I got places to be. Hurry it up.”

You flashed him a puzzled look but said nothing in reply. He hadn’t expected you to, seeing how occupied you were with discussing your old man’s truck’s transmission flush, tire rotation, wiper blade replacement, and on and on and on until Joel’s head was spinning with all the jargon. Since when did you know about ignition coils?

No matter.

Just a few more action items to parse through, then you’d swipe your card and get the hell out of there.

“I mean…do y’all have to replace that cabin air filter? Can’t my dad do that himself? Or just wait a little bit?”

Surely you knew you were torturing him now.

There was no way you weren’t doing this on purpose.

The shop employee scratched the back of his neck and gave a sheepish smile, right after he’d unglued his gaze from the cleavage spilling out of your top. He coughed.

“Well…well, uh, see here, our last service report says…”

Joel didn’t give a flying fuck what the service report said. He tuned out the rest of what the little pervert was trying to tell you then and turned to face the waiting room with a flinty, stern look. Several sets of eyes snapped away.

One in particular, he noticed, didn’t flinch at all.

Of course it belonged to some shit-brained kid. Probably only two or three years out of high school and ogling you like a slab of meat while his father sat beside him, trying to do the same but slightly more discreetly. How polite.

It was almost as if Joel had acquired some supersonic hearing ability over the last five minutes, and he could somehow tell what the ass-hat was muttering to his dad.

‘Hell, I’d like to bend her over a desk myself.’

His father grinned, eyes wandering again.

‘Yeah. I bet she’d like that. Love it, even.’

Fuck this.

Technically, Joel hadn’t heard the words come out of their mouths, but the intentions had been behind their eyes all the same. He hated it. The longer he stood here with you, the more the odds grew he’d end up decking someone, or throwing a chair at their head, so he swiftly tilted and pressed a touch to your elbow. It amazed him how gentle it was, given the bloodlust percolating within.

“Honey, we need to go,” he told you, voice low.

“What?” You turned. Brows furrowing. “Why?”

Because every swinging dick in this establishment wants to get in you. Let’s dip before I kill someone.

“Because I’m paying for all the repairs. C’mon.”

Before Joel could even begin to contemplate the ramifications of this offer—exactly how much cash he’d be blowing on his best friend’s truck thanks to his impulsiveness—he slid his credit card across the desk and jerked his head toward the door. Telling you to go.

“Joel, you can’t—” you’d just started to say.

“Now that’s a real fine thing to do for your daughter, b—”

It was the latter of these two statements, seemingly spoken at once, that Joel paid any mind at all. The stranger behind the desk’s thinking that he was your dad, and not your partner, made his blood boil beneath the skin. His conviction to do this only grew stronger.

Suddenly, Joel was turning his body to you. Leaning down, gripping your chin in one hand, and letting his mouth land firmly on yours, so that there would be no mistaking who he was, or what he was to you. Not today.

Your lips were warm, and they kissed him back gently. When he’d pulled away, your face, and every expression around yours was painted with some degree of surprise.

The man behind the desk cleared his throat: ‘Uh, sorry.’

Not the dad. Got it.

Joel was glad to spread the message, even if your gaze was lingering on his with a wordless little threat, like you would get him for this. He just grinned and nodded to the door again, then watched you leave, skirt swishing and bobbing all the way to the door. Hardly any eyes followed now, as most were too busy flitting to him.

Good.

Great.

“That’ll be $4,898.72, sir.”

Goddamn.

You hadn’t seen Joel this feral in ages.

Hell, maybe ever.

His cock seemed to be cleaving your body in half with how hard his thrusts were coming in now. How loud those wet slaps against the swell of your ass rang out through the cramped backseat of his car, how deep his tip sank, and how quickly the motions repeated, like Joel was beating a drum somewhere far down in your cervix.

Your eyes rolled. Jaw slackened. Tongue darted from either corner of your lips to lap away the spit that was trickling out. Joel was fucking you that hard. His strokes jostled your body, dick wedging deep and unforgiving, and his eyes were alight with a look you couldn’t quite decipher. Your own vision was blurring at the edges.

“Tell me it’s mine,” Joel panted against your neck.

Then, as if his hips had been made to pummel at this relentless, frantic pace, he lowered his torso to yours and drilled away even quicker. The force and the friction were so great you had only to grip his forearms and meet his gaze, barely able to get the words out: ‘Y—Yours, Joel.’

Doing this the day after your period tracker claimed you’d been ovulating probably wasn’t the best idea. Insane as he was with desire, the thought did also seem to cross Joel’s mind as he pounded away. More than once, his brow pinched, and his hips made as if to stutter to a halt. Then the need kicked in. The thing picked up again, harder than it had before, and Joel was back to fucking you hard on the upholstered seats of his Bronco.

Above you, his jaw clenched. His teeth ground tighter.

“This…” he grit out, as if words evaded him. “…OK?”

Yes, Joel.

You’d never seen such bare-faced need from him in all your life, and you loved it. It wasn’t just the expression of a man in love—which he was—but also the face of a person in pain. Someone whose need for your touch was so agonizingly great that he was blind to anything else. Joel lifted his arms to bracket your head so he could get in even closer, and his frantic pants warmed your cheeks. Come evening, you’d happily be popping Plan Bs like candy if it meant another moment of seeing him like this.

Sweat glistened on his brow and in between spatterings of silver and black along his jaw. His gaze was hard and determined, like he was contemplating something else.

Slowly, and with legs trembling against his sides at every thrust, you reached to cup his face. You stroked it gently.

“Is—Is everything alri—”

“I wanna cum inside you.”

Joel’s voice was deadpan, with no preamble or warning. Mere inches from your face, his own was twisted in that strange, pained look. His cock twitched; its pace slowed.

Your walls clamped around him instinctively. You blinked.

“W-What?”

“Wanna fill you up.”

There wasn’t a shred of hesitation in his tone as his hips rocked steadily against you. If anything, his grip grew even tighter, like he was trying to press you down.

“But Joel, I’m—” Another clench. Another strangled breath. “I still might…be…ovulating. And you’re…”

“Old enough to be your father, ain’t I?” he sneered. “Least, that’s what everybody in that shop seemed to think. What if you made me one today, hm, sweet pea?”

He didn’t mean it.

Joel knew how bad it’d be if he really knocked you up. Just the same, you couldn’t contain the sharp, startled whimper as his cock stirred inside you and that thought took shape—his hot and sticky seed being shot in ropes, painting your needy walls, making you so, so full of him.

Your lizard brain didn’t bat an eye at that.

Blame it on ovulation, a glaring oversight in sex education, your undoubtedly compromised morals or whatever the case may have been, but you wanted it.

You needed him in, making a mess where he shouldn’t.

With sunlight bathing you both in the backseat of Joel’s car, classic rock drifting through the speakers, and one handsome, weathered, earnest expression hovering over yours with the faintest of smiles, how could you refuse?

He sped up again. The hands that had slid to your hips constricted to an almost suffocating level, but it was possessive. Protective. Envy sparked in Joel’s eyes.

“Don’t want nobody oglin’ what’s mine, y’hear?”

It was a question, but it didn’t warrant a reply.

You nodded anyway, watching the older man’s gaze shift from your eyes to your lips to your breasts to, eventually, the sight of his length plunging in and out of your body below. Your eyes trailed after it, and you watched one hand of his move from your hip to your ribs. Rubbing.

Your wet and pliant hole took him with ease and welcomed him in. The sounds of your shared fluids were obscene, but it made the kind of wild, dizzying refrain you knew you wouldn’t be able to forget for years, if ever.

Slowly, Joel’s palm slid over, and his fingers splayed out.

His hand rested flat against your belly as he fucked you with abandon. At a particularly deep thrust, it was as if you felt him all the way up in your lungs, and your throat pushed out a cry. Your legs tightened around Joel’s waist, and you knew the end wasn’t far from sight.

“All—All—All yours, daddy. Cum in me, please.”

Joel’s fingers flexed gently on your tummy, then he moved them back and forth as his dick did the same.

The friction nearly sent your mind in a spiral; you glanced down, and you saw his outline, faintly, under that touch.

Joel was so big, and your body was lying perfectly supine on the seat that you could feel him—see him—push repeatedly inside you. A little bulge took shape where his hand was pressing in, and the sensation was overwhelming. Your hands slid to Joel’s hair and yanked.

“Fill me—wanna feel you, daddy, please just fill me—”

“Think a little swell in that belly’ll keep those boys from lookin’, huh? Is that what I gotta do to show ‘em you’re—”

“Yes! Fuck!” you whined.

“—always gonna be mine?”

Joel’s thrusts were relentless. Your brain was on the fritz. Your hips tried to lift, mindlessly, begging him to fill you with his cum, but the man had you pinned underneath him. Sweat drenched you both, and the wildest ideas were humming between you. You were almost there.

“That’d be one way to tell your dad, huh?” Joel panted.

Oh, fuck.

“Have you come home from college all swole up with my kid—he couldn’t keep us apart then, huh?” he went on.

Your father would probably skin him alive if he found out. Still, your lips parted, and you dumbly, sweetly mumbled, OK, OK, Joel. Give me one. Make me a mommy, please.

Joel almost lost his hold on your hip and your belly with that last part; he all but folded in on you with that request. Breathily, through his teeth, he gritted:

“You mean that, baby?”

Again, you nodded.

Momentarily forgetting the outline of his cock in your tummy, the thought of seeing you leaking his cum and squirming for more, it seemed, Joel just sank into you.

He bracketed his arms around your head like he had before, flattened his chest to yours, and fucked you.

It was primal. Needy. Wet. Insatiable. You probably looked feral and senseless, and neither of you cared.

Overhead, the strains of an old ZZ Top song reached a crescendo, and Joel’s eyes stayed locked on yours. His cock stretched you in a way that seemed implausible—you felt him from root to tip and could sense the oncoming pulses before they ever left a drop.

Then Joel kissed you. In his warm, soft, and loving way, his lips melded to yours and caressed them continually. Though it might’ve only lasted a few seconds, the effect was profound, and you found yourself pulling him deeper. Squeezing him tight and taking him whole.

“You really wanna have a baby with me, Miller?”

“Nope.” Joel’s response was instantaneous.

“Wh—”

“Eight kids, at least. You OK with that?”

If you weren’t on the verge of climax, you would’ve laughed in his face. But because you were, and you happened to be head over heels in love with this man, you grinned, nodding. Joel smiled and kissed you again.

“Alright. First one’s comin’ now if you’ll just—oh, fuck.”

It seemed like Joel wanted to drag things out a little longer, but his body had other plans. Yours did, too.

Right as your walls clenched and your senses started to flood with those sweet, euphoric feelings, Joel’s cock throbbed once. Twice. Again and again, unleashing ropes of his cum in a seemingly endless stream. Your heels dug deep in Joel’s back, and your jaw fell open, instinctively. While that sticky-wet warmth filled your insides and Joel continued pounding away, a shriek clawed out from you.

It started as a cry and quickly morphed into a moan, shrill as anything: “Please, baby. Please, please, please.”

You never thought you’d want to upend your life with a child before you even graduated from school or got a job.

Joel clearly hadn’t been planning for that either, and still, his voice was as slow and sweet as molasses in your ear.

“Take it all now, darlin’. That’s it. That’s my girl. So good.”

He stroked your hair and emptied himself completely. His balls must’ve been drained, because you could sense what felt like a torrent of warmth between your legs.

When he pulled out, you both groaned at the sight.

Joel was drenched in his cum and yours. Dripping.

Still oozing a little at the tip, the old man was spent, and it appeared he was about to give himself a good shake and wipe it all off, when you stopped Joel in his tracks.

Your mouth watered as you watched him. You swallowed.

You didn’t even bother to ask for what you wanted, just stuck out your tongue and peered up with doe eyes.

Joel groaned and nodded. He shuffled closer and lowered himself in until his tip was at your mouth.

Your lips closed around him, and your head bobbed down. As his cock filled you whole, your mind went blank. It wasn’t even a matter of sucking him off or getting him clean; you just needed to feel and taste the cum that had sprayed your insides. You craved the scent of the sweet, affectionate man who was well over twice your age and still on board with giving you his babies.

Even if it was just a fantasy between you both…for now.

You hadn’t even realized your eyes had closed until your lips slipped off him with a pop, and your vision suddenly brightened. You eyed Joel curiously from below, and your heart skipped a beat when you could see he was smiling.

Before he could speak, or else try to clean you up any himself, your own lips twitched a little at the corners. Your gaze searched Joel’s with a soft, tender intensity, and for a second, you debated whether or not to say it.

Quickly, you made your choice.

Just as Joel was about to lean down to reach for his clothes, maybe search the floor for a clean t-shirt or towel to wipe you both down with, his eyes were still glued to yours, and your grin was slowly growing bigger.

Joel cocked a brow in question, and you went on ahead, fighting the urge to laugh while you said, sweet as ever:

“So…it looks like my little miniskirt trick actually worked.”

And if I said Reader got pregnant with twins…THEN WHAT

#NOW I KNOWWWWWWWWW DBF!JOEL TALKS NASTY WHEN HE’S IN IT #I JUST KNOW IT #what if i said he starts talking about knocking you up and keeping you pregnant for the next ten years #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller tlou #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel

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megalony · 2 months ago

Text

Bound By Blood

As promised, here is the new Evan Buckley imagine for you all, I hope everyone likes it. Thank you @neonkiwi for helping with the plotline.

I'm hoping to make this one into a series.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713 @niamhmbt @strawberry-canyon @bieberhoodforever @911fangirlie @hollandxxmix @jasmineee05 @creat1venat1onn @devilslittlehelper @darlingcharling-blog @bear8585 @nickie-amore @elliott-calls @person-005 @mbioooo0000 @amara-mars @shypy92 @nikfigueiredo @sabsthedoll @rach2602

911 taglist: @teenwolfbitches28 @mandmilovehim @jooniesbears-blog @riywasu @amy2265 @buckandeddiesverison @forestsandgrimoires @peteparkersbug @btskzfav

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: (Y/n) and Evan met in a support group, bonding over shared trauma. And now, they're going to have a baby together. But it isn't so easy when (Y/n)'s family is complicated and they put far too much pressure on her.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evan loved the sound of the rain. He loved how calming it was, how settling to his heartbeat and rhythm the constant tapping was. He enjoyed thunderstorms and downpours and watching movies while the rain poured outside.

During the few months of the year when the rain only came in small bursts and showers, Evan never knew what to do with himself. He hated seeing bright sunshine day after day and no specks of rain.

And while it was pouring down outside, he thought he should make the most of it.

The sound of the rain was giving him a boost of energy and now the kitchen was almost spotless, gleaming like new from Evan's merciless cleaning regime. He loved cooking, but cleaning wasn't something Evan enjoyed unless he was in this type of mood where he wanted to gut the apartment from top to bottom. And this mood usually faded after an hour, which was why he was focusing on the kitchen because then if he lost energy, it didn't matter about the rest of the apartment. He would get round to it at some point.

The highs and lows of having ADHD.

He hummed quietly as he tossed the cleaning rag into the washer, finally done with the countertops and the oven and the cupboards had been reorganised.

The radio was on low enough that Evan could just about hear the music, but the sound of the rain was still louder and more prominent.

"Need me to do anything?"

A grin lit up Evan's face and he cast a look over his shoulder at the sound of (Y/n)'s voice. He hadn't heard her come downstairs, he must have been caught up in the sound of the rain and the task at hand.

He watched (Y/n) lean to the left with her hip pressing into the counter and her arms folded over her chest. The smile on her lips was one that made Evan's heart melt and the look in her eyes made shivers tingle beneath his skin and all down the back of his neck.

"No, I think I'm all done in here." He shook his head and planted his own hands on his hips as he looked around.

Evan wasn't a neat freak, neither of them were, but he did go in bouts of tidying and cleaning, especially if he knew they would be having company over. Today was just because he was in a good mood with the rain drizzling and pouring in the background.

The apartment was cast in a dim grey light from the dark clouds forming outside and the constant downpour which blocked out what little was left of the afternoon sunlight.

He scoured his hands up and down his jeans to rid the last droplets of water and cleaning solution, but his eyes got caught on the calander next to the fridge. His hands moved to his hips and he smiled as he turned and looked back towards (Y/n).

"Don't forget about Thursday, blood donations."

The way he pointed towards the calendar made (Y/n)'s smile soften. She could see the little red heart Evan had drawn on the bottom of the date, his symbol for the blood donations. Every two months, the team would go down to the hospital together and donate. And ever since (Y/n) had been in a relationship with Evan, she had joined them too.

It seemed fitting that (Y/n) went along with them and donated as well, she had donated a lot of blood over the years. So making it a regular occurrence with the team only seemed fitting.

(Y/n) tilted her head down and moved one hand to cup the back of her neck, itching away out of nervous habit.

She had actually forgotten that the donation would be this week, she thought it was the week after. Dates kept getting fuzzy between work and Evan's irregular shift patterns.

"About that, I um… I don't think I can this time." Her eyes trained on Evan's hands that were tapping along the counter as he finished putting a few containers and utensils back in their places. And she watched how he paused and turned to face her so quickly that he should have gotten whiplash.

Now was as good a time as any to tell him her news.

She had thought about waiting until next week, about trying to find a perfect way to sit him down and tell him. Part of her wanted to buy something sweet, a little keepsake and give it to Evan as a gift to break the news. The only thing she had been against was making a big song and dance or a big celebration. She wanted to tell him on their own, not in front of anyone else.

But waiting was starting to cut into (Y/n), her stomach was constantly twisting in knots every time she thought about telling him and what would happen once he knew. It was time to open up now.

"Why?" The utter panic in Evan's voice made (Y/n) wince and chide herself for saying that like there was a problem.

She could see his blue eyes turning darker as they swept her up and down like he expected to see some physical sign that she wasn't well or physically see what was playing on her mind. When he knew that she had been fine all day, so it couldn't be due to some kind of illness.

The panic stayed written across his features while he turned so he was properly facing her, and he waited a little impatiently for (Y/n) to walk over to him.

Her hands itched at her sides, desperate to reach out and do something, to grapple for his shoulders or pull him into a hug or kiss him. But she tried to hold herself steady and calm herself down, not wanting to get too over-excited.

"I'm not gonna be allowed to donate for a while, actually." This time, she managed a smile that was somewhat playful, but Evan didn't seem to catch onto it.

His brows only furrowed and his blushing lips parted but he only took a few shallow breaths as he tried to think.

He didn't understand. He didn't know what that meant. Why wouldn't she be allowed to donate? She was healthy, she didn't have any disease or illness or blood deficiencies. He knew (Y/n) had been donating all her life. And how long was a while?

"A while? What does that mean, not allowed?" Evan's hands let go of the counter behind him so he could push forward and curl his hands around her hips. He pulled her closer but when she didn't meet his eyes, one hand reached up to gently cup her chin.

He tilted her head up until their temples were pressed together and he knew she could feel the way his right foot was tapping against the floor like he was doing some triple speed version of morse code.

"They don't let you donate blood if you're pregnant."

(Y/n) rolled her lips together and tried to hold her breath deep in her lungs to settle her heartbeat that was creating a frenzy through the rest of her system.

She couldn't donate if she was pregnant, it wasn't allowed in case it made her low on iron or caused any other vitamin deficiencies. So for the next seven to eight months, she wouldn't be allowed to go and donate along with the team like she usually did.

For over a week, (Y/n) had been wondering how to tell Evan and what his reaction would be. She wondered if he would be excited, scared, unsure or suddenly proud and ready.

She was about to take a step away at the lack of response until Evan suddenly broke out of his frozen state.

A gasp left (Y/n)'s lips and her hands quickly curled around Evan's shoulders when he deadlocked his arms around her waist and hoisted her up. He bound their chests together and lifted (Y/n) from her feet so he could spin her round.

Tilting her head forward, (Y/n) buried her face in Evan's neck, unable to stop herself from smiling against his skin. And her heart bubbled up in her throat when she felt him laughing into her neck.

"We're having a baby?" It sounded more like a question than a statement and (Y/n) pressed a tender kiss to his neck where she could feel his pulse hammering against his skin.

"We are."

"Going to that group was the best decision I ever made."

(Y/n)'s heart soared in her chest when she felt those words being whispered against her temple.

She knew Evan had been anxious that day he first joined the support group; part of him didn't believe he belonged to be in there. It was a group for donor kids, for people who had been test tube babies, brought into the world specifically to donate to a sibling or family member who didn't have long enough to wait on the donor list.

Evan hadn't known that was his origin until over two decades later, his childhood had been far from happy, but he hadn't been affected in the same way as everyone else in that group. He suffered the after effects, not the initial trauma of being poked and prodded and always used for spare parts.

But he had struggled with knowing why he was here, why his childhood had been fractured and broken and loveless. He needed help, he needed to understand and to be around people who understood.

That was exactly where he met (Y/n). And now they were going to have a baby together.

"Me too."

(Y/n) reached her hand up to cup the back of Evan's neck and she began gently carding her fingers over the short hairs and curls up and down his neck and the back of his head. It caused Evan to tilt his head back, groaning as he leant into the touch and allowed their eyes to meet once again.

"You're happy then, really?" (Y/n)'s teeth sank down in her lower lip until Evan closed the distance between them and stole her lips for himself.

She could feel his energy practically radiating off of him and soaking into her. Their teeth clashed with how deeply he kissed her and he couldn't stop himself from smiling or squeezing his hands into her waist like he had been overloaded and didn't know how to release.

And when he lifted her up once again and set her down on the counter, she felt like her lungs had popped. Her arms tightened around him as he stood in between her legs which hooked around his torso.

"Let me show you how happy I am."

***

Panic was the first thing (Y/n) felt when her mind registered the noise she heard was her phone ringing.

Her heartbeat pulsed throughout her body and pounded in her head like a drum that wouldn't stop bashing her skull. Her stomach ached, her chest shuddered and her hand trembled when she reached out for her phone on the side table.

The blaring red numbers on the alarm clock made her panic multiply. It was after midnight, it was early in the morning.

Was Evan okay?

He was on shift, and the one thing that worried (Y/n) about him being on shift was if she ever got a call. She didn't want a call from Bobby or the team saying that Evan had been injured or caught up in an accident or that he had been taken to hospital. Late night phone calls weren't something (Y/n) was overly used to and it felt like a bad omen.

If it wasn't someone calling about Evan, she had no idea who else would be calling at such an early time. And surely it wouldn't be anyone giving her good news.

She started to shake as she tried to sit up and get her vision working to see the caller ID on her phone. But seeing who was calling caused a floodwave of relief and panic to overcome her once again.

It wasn't Evan. It wasn't Bobby or anyone on his team. It was her dad.

"Dad, it's- it's three in the morning, what's wrong?" Her voice was croaky with sleep and she let herself flop back into the den of pillows on the bed. She laid on her back, moving her free hand to run across her temple as she tried to gain back her lost breaths.

There couldn't be many good reasons why her dad would ring her at such an hour like this. It had to be something bad, (Y/n) could feel it deep in her gut and she hated to speculate what he was going to say.

"Adam's in the hospital, his white count is almost zero. Sweetheart, he needs a bone marrow transplant."

No. Please no!

(Y/n) could feel the tears burning down her face like acid rain, the kind of tears she shed so many times over the years when her life had to be put on pause again and again. The kind of tears she cried with deep howls and burning fury when she couldn't go on school trips or join the gymnastics team at school. The tears she shed when her parents wouldn't let her go out of state on a mini holiday with friends in college.

The kind of tears she shed when she was constantly told that she was alive because of her brother and she had a duty to help him whenever he needed her.

They were going to do it to her again. They were going to guilt trip her like they always did, because their feelings got put before (Y/n)'s. She was a blood bag to them, she was something disposable, something that should be freely available to Adam when and if needed. She wasn't a person, she was a walking donation.

Adam was eight years older than (Y/n). He had leukemia, just like Evan's brother Daniel. They were both born simply to donate to their brothers and unlike Evan, (Y/n)'s brother was still alive and needing help.

She had gone to therapy to meet others like her and learn how they managed to get their own lives. How they managed to put their foot down and say no when they didn't want to do another donation, because she couldn't seem to say no whenever she was asked.

"Sweetheart?"

"I-"

She couldn't.

A horrible sense of dread crept up into (Y/n)'s chest and stole the air out of her lungs and clogged her words up in her throat when it dawned on her.

Her free hand shot down from cradling her temple to cup her abdomen instead. The baby. She couldn't do any kind of bone marrow transplant now that she was pregnant. A procedure that severe would pose a big risk to the baby, it wouldn't be in (Y/n)'s best interests. She couldn't give Adam the donation he needed, she couldn't even give him a pint of blood anymore. Not now she was pregnant.

Another floodwave of tears poured down her face and she tried so hard to stop herself from making a noise and alerting her dad that she was distressed. She couldn't have this conversation now.

It was too early, her brain was too fuzzy and she couldn't deal with this mess without Evan here beside her.

"I'll… I'll call and talk in the morning, not now."

"Sweetheart he needs you-"

"Not at three in the morning he doesn't, dad." (Y/n) took as deep a breath as she could and sniffed, trying to compose herself. "He's been admitted, hasn't he? They can give him a blood transfusion and he'll be settled for a few days. It's not life or death, I'll call you."

She hung up before her dad could make a rebuttal argument. She couldn't be doing this right now.

Her phone dropped on the pillow beside her and (Y/n) coiled her knees up until they were pressed tightly into her stomach. She rolled herself onto her side, lying on Evan's side of the bed so she could burrow her face into the pillow and inhale his scent through her gasping cries.

Both arms bound around her waist in between her stomach and her knees and she dared to press one hand down on her stomach as if she would be able to feel or sense the new life she was carrying.

(Y/n) had been stupid to believe that Adam wouldn't need her for nine months- or a year, given that she would have to recover after having the baby. When had she ever gone a year without being asked for something?

When had she had a full year to herself where she didn't need to donate blood or stem cells or a bone marrow transfusion when Adam went downhill?

He had been fine for four months now and the last time, all he needed was two blood transfusions from her. (Y/n) wouldn't even be able to do that anymore.

She had to look out for her baby and do what was best for them. This was her life, she was finally settling down with someone she loved and having a family of her own. A child who she would love unconditionally. A child who she wanted simply to have a family and to love them, not to force them into a life of obligations and selflessness.

She and Evan would love this baby and make them feel wanted and needed and deserved; this child would have the kind of love and support that neither of them had gotten in their childhoods.

This was a child who would be wanted, not needed.

Adam would have to find another donor, another solution to his illness. He couldn't rely on (Y/n) at all times anymore. He couldn't ask the impossible of her, he had to find another way to save himself because (Y/n) couldn't do this now. She couldn't.

Another floodwave of tears poured down her face and had her shaking back and forth as she mumbled "I'm sorry."

She was doing the right thing. So why did she feel such a crushing weight of guilt sitting heavy on her chest?

***

Uncertainty flowed through Evan when he walked in the apartment and took a look around. The curtains in the living room were closed and the tv wasn't on. The lights were off in the kitchen and the bathroom, and there were no books scattered around the living room or at the table suggesting (Y/n) was up and awake.

He had been on the night shift last night, but he thought (Y/n) would have been up by now.

He hummed quietly as he kicked off his shoes, shed his jacket and headed upstairs towards the bedroom.

The curtains were closed in the bedroom too, but there was enough light from downstairs to brighten the room and let Evan see where he was going. He aimed towards the bed, but the gentle smile on his face faltered when he looked around.

(Y/n) was laid in the middle of the bed, curled up like she was trying to form a cocoon. Her face was buried down in a pillow, her arms were tightly bound around her middle, and when Evan looked down, he saw a plastic bowl on the floor. A sick bucket.

His lips rolled into a thin line as he approached the bed and climbed on. He sat near the middle of the bed, crossing his legs beneath him while he leaned over and graced his fingertips up and down (Y/n)'s arm.

"Oh babe, you don't look good."

He trailed his hand up her arm and over her shoulder until he had his fingers tangled in her hair. He gently began to brush her hair behind her ear while he watched her open her bleary eyes to look over at him.

But Evan wasn't expecting her to burst into tears.

His body shuddered and his chest tightened when he watched the tears spill down her face and the feeble sob she let out made his heart hammer into his ribs.

He wasn't quite sure what to do as (Y/n) curled up tighter and moved her hands to smother her face. Did she feel that bad? Had she been sick all through the night? Did he need to ring the doctor?

Leaning over, Evan peppered a few kisses to (Y/n)'s shoulder and leaned into her hip while he reached his hands over to hold onto her wrists. He slowly pulled her wrists back so she wasn't covering her face. She didn't need to hide away from him, Evan hated to see her cry but he never wanted her to shy away.

"Shh, hey, hey it's okay-"

"No it's not." The bubbling cry that left (Y/n)'s lips made her shake and she coiled her arms to her chest, despite her wrists still being held in Evan's embrace.

"Why?"

Panic flooded Evan's voice as he leaned in closer and let go of her wrists in favour of cupping her face instead. She had to talk to him, she had to tell him if something had happened or gone wrong or if she wasn't well. He couldn't sit here not knowing or else he couldn't do anything to help.

When (Y/n) tried to shake her head and turn away from him, Evan clicked his tongue. She couldn't try and hide away and ignore him, she had to talk to him and explain what was wrong.

His hands left her face and he slid them beneath her arms this time, carefully reeling her up from the bed so she was sitting up and facing him better. He was rather relieved when (Y/n) didn't pull away from him and he sighed to himself when her arms looped around his neck.

The way her head flopped on his shoulder made him wonder briefly if she had passed out. But he felt her nuzzling into his neck and gasping through her breaths, so he knew she was still awake.

His fingers danced along the side of her neck and his lips attached to her temple while his other arm looped around her waist. He feathered his hand up and down her waist, trying to calm her down enough for her to be able to explain why she was so upset.

"Talk to me, baby." He hummed against her temple before he leant his cheek on top of her head, trying to be as patient as he could while he waited for her to tell him why she was so distressed.

(Y/n) tightened her arms around Evan's neck, unable to stop herself from scratching her nails into his skin as she bound herself to his chest. Needing to be as close as possible so she could stop herself from falling into a state of despair.

"Adam's in hospital, he… he needs bone marrow, and I- I can't give it anymore." Each breath (Y/n) took sounded more like a wheezing, desperate attempt at salvaging the string that kept her grounded and tied to reality.

Being Adam's donor was all that (Y/n) knew since the moment she learned to walk and talk. It was her purpose, it was why she was alive. And now, for the first time in her life, she would have to tell him and her parents that she couldn't fulfil her obligations. She couldn't donate anything to him, he was in the hospital needing her help and she couldn't do anything about it.

Closing his eyes, Evan smothered his lips and nose into (Y/n)'s hair and sighed.

He had been stupid enough to overlook the fact that Adam might just need (Y/n)'s help while she was pregnant. He had been oblivious to that little thought, so wrapped up in the fact that they were having a life of their own that he forgot how tangled and messy their family lives were.

"It's okay, baby this is okay. You have nothing to feel guilty about."

Evan let his eyes fall closed and nuzzled his face into her hair as he kissed her head longingly.

There was nothing she could do, and nothing that she had done that was wrong. (Y/n) was allowed a life and a family of her own. She was her own person, she was over eighteen and had the rights to her own body. If she didn't want to donate, she didn't have to. And if she was pregnant and couldn't donate, that was nothing to be ashamed of or feel guilty about.

"I'm his donor-"

"Hey, no you're not." The stern tone to Evan's voice made (Y/n) shudder in his arms and hold her breath. "You're his sister, and you can't donate because you're pregnant that's not something to be ashamed of. We're having a baby, this is good news and your family need to understand that."

(Y/n) tried to nod, but she felt so exhausted and lethargic. She tilted her head back against Evan's arm so she could look up at him better, but seeing the frown etched into his features made her lips quiver.

"He needs me, e-exactly when I can't help." Her trembling hand ran across her face and down her jaw before she burrowed further into Evan's chest.

All night she had drifted between sobbing and sleeping with the odd sickness added into the mix. She had been waiting for Evan to come home so she could talk this through with him but all she had done was burst into tears and panic him and exhaust herself.

It was typical that the exact moment (Y/n) could no longer help Adam, he had a lapse in health and needed her. Now he would have to be put on the donor list and wait indeterminably for someone else to come along and save him. He had been on the list before (Y/n) was born and in the year it took for her parents to go through with the genetic embryo implant, no match had been found.

He could be waiting much longer this time, and he might not have that long left.

Another flow of tears trickled down (Y/n)'s face like a leaky tap, but she didn't have the air within her left to cry anymore.

"What did we always say in group?" Evan's voice was tender and he noticed the beginning of a saddened smile forming on (Y/n)'s lips.

She couldn't look up at him to answer so her gaze adverted down to her hands that were now on her lap rather than around Evan's neck. "We're not spare parts."

Despite never feeling the same as everyone else in that group, the motto had resonated with Evan. His parents treated him like a spare part, like an inconvenience to them. They didn't love him, they didn't really want him, he was a necessity not a product of love. And after Daniel's death he had simply been a constant reminder of what they had lost.

Knowing the truth about his existence only amplified that feeling for Evan of being around as a bag of spare pieces that were no longer needed.

And he knew for (Y/n) that the motto was still something she was grappling with because she was still needed. Adam was still alive and (Y/n) always found it hard to say no. She didn't know how to deny him or their parents when she had grown up brainwashed into believing that she was here simply to donate and care for her brother.

"This is your life, you can't put everything on hold because he may or may not need you. That's not fair of them to ask that of you, baby you have a life as well."

"I know what mum will say, s-she'll say it's what I'm here for. Being on the donor list takes time, time Adam m-might not have-"

"And asking you to give up your life and a potential family is fair?"

(Y/n) whimpered when she felt Evan's hand cupping her jaw so he could tilt her head back enough to kiss her. Everything he felt was poured into that kiss that made her lightheaded enough to wobble back against his chest.

No. No, it wasn't fair of them to ask that of her and (Y/n) knew it. And she knew that with Evan here by her side, holding her hand, she would have the strength to tell her parents that this wasn't happening.

Her baby was her priority, this was her life and her new family and she wasn't jeopardising or ruining this for something that wasn't going to cure Adam or give him a new lease of life. Donations only prolonged his short lived remission. It gave him a few extra weeks or months of feeling okay and being almost back to some sense of normality.

This wasn't a transplant that was going to save and change his life, this wasn't something that only (Y/n) could do. He would have to wait on the donor list and let the doctors decide what was best for him because (Y/n) wasn't available to provide every donation and sample he needed.

"I've never had something that's mine, like this… something I want. And I know- I know they can't take this from me, but they'll make me feel guilty."

There were so many things (Y/n) had never been able to do, so many things she could never have.

She couldn't go out of the country on holiday in case she got ill or caught an infection which would prevent her from donating to Adam. And if she got an infection and passed it onto him, with his low white count he couldn't fight off infections and it would make him worse. When he was in his worse states, their home became a clean room to keep him safe and prevent illnesses.

Playing sports in school growing up wasn't an option, if she got injured it stopped her from donating.

Her parents never wanted her to leave home or settle down because that put Adam at risk if she couldn't donate or if she wasn't readily available to help him. She was treated as their property all her life and going to the therapy group where she met Evan showed her just how bad it was.

She tucked her face back into Evan's neck and moved to wrap her arms around his torso, clinging to him like he was a comfort teddy.

"Baby they're going to be grandparents, that's more important than forcing you to donate everything you have to Adam all your life."

It was evidently clear that her parents weren't going to get any grandkids from Adam. He was too sick, he wasn't in a stable relationship and being a father wasn't something he could commit to when his health could take a bad turn at any time. He had already lived longer than expected- thanks to the donations he got from (Y/n)- children weren't something he wanted or could actively think about right now.

And after the amount of chemo he'd endured through his life, he might not be able to have kids anyway.

(Y/n) was the one who would be able to have children and that was exactly what was happening now. This was her first child, her parents first grandchild. They should be happy, thrilled, excited about this news, not angry that they couldn't use (Y/n) to help Adam.

"If it was Adam's baby this would be different."

"If they were loving parents, this would be different too. They can't force you into donating anymore, baby you've got your own life now and they have to understand that."

Evan could understand those double standards. He knew his parents weren't going to be as pleased about his news of a baby as they had been when Maddie told them. He knew his child wouldn't be favoured the same way as Jee was. Just like during his childhood, he had been dismissed whereas Maddie had been loved.

He knew that if Adam were ever to have a child, they would be doted on and admired and spoiled, but the chances of her parents being excited and overjoyed for (Y/n) weren't very high. She was still seen as an extra in her own family, someone who served a purpose rather than to be loved.

But her parents needed to relent. They couldn't force (Y/n) to do anything she didn't want to, she was an adult and this was her life. They needed to be happy for her and deal with the fact that Adam was going to have to settle for being on the donor list for once.

(Y/n) winced when she realised she was leaving tear stains on Evan's shirt, but he didn't seem to care. He held her tighter and kept her burrowed into his chest, knowing that she wanted and desperately needed some comfort right now.

"I don't want to tell them."

Her own words made her cringe. She felt stupid for how nervous she felt, but she truly didn't want to tell them. This was supposed to be a joyful thing, this was meant to be a happy moment where (Y/n) would tell her family she was having her own child and they would support her.

But she had a feeling that the only person who would be supporting her and Evan would be Maddie and the team.

"Sweetheart you have to, as much as it kills me that you'd donate everything you have to Adam, they need to know that you're only saying no because you have no choice this time. And if they don't understand then they don't deserve to be in our baby's life."

Evan couldn't help how much he hated that (Y/n)'s family still had a way to make her feel guilty. She still felt like she had no choice and Evan watched her agree every time they asked her to donate. It was why therapy had been so good for her, it helped her to try and find a life of her own and move on. (Y/n) didn't have to feel any obligation and she knew that.

There was nothing her family could say or do that would make her responsible for Adam or need to donate to him.

Besides, they could see that she was in turmoil, she wanted to help but she physically couldn't. That had to count for something.

Tilting his head down, Evan attached his lips to the top of (Y/n)'s head again while he started to sway them from left to right. He didn't want her to panic or get this upset, it wasn't going to do her any good and this wasn't a bad thing.

"We can tell them together."

If he had to, Evan would tell her parents for her and he would stand in her corner and make sure they didn't pull any guilt-trips.

They had done enough to (Y/n), he wouldn't let them hurt her anymore.

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