#i'm looking at you doc and babe

[balladofthe101st]

nothing gay here. just foxhole buddies being foxhole buddies sharing a foxhole and body heat in the cold winter because we're foxhole buddies

[aliorsboxostuff]

ANOTHER SELF INDULGENT FIC? YES. I told yall i love fangs SO MUCH AAARGHH and MIGUEL?? HAVING FANGS?? HELLOOOOOO anyhow this is just full of me simping for that beautiful, insane man. Gotta love me a dilf with fangs and claws. Anyhow enjoy this piece yall lmao. I PROMISE ILL GET TO YOUR REQUESTS

Canines

Tags: Miguel O’hara xM!Reader, Miguel O’hara x gn!reader, Spidey!Reader, Lyla, Jessica Drew, Ben Riley, Spider Society, No Smut, Almost ig?, Fluff, He/Him prns for Reader, Reader is a sunshine, Soft!Miguel, Established relationship, This is just me simping for Miguel tbh, gotta love this man, slight sub!Miguel, Kissing, making out, HIS FANG BRO

Even after spending time with Miguel, successfully becoming his boyfriend and getting on his good side, there's the one thing you can get your mind off of; those damn fangs.

—

You and Miguel have been dating for a solid 5 months now. You still remember the day you got introduced to the spider society and met him. Those dark eyes that flash red, tall and broody, sharp talons that scrape against metal, swept back hair that might as well have swept you off your feet. No literally. The first day you went to meet him you tripped on air and fell straight into his arms. 

How did that manage to win his heart? Now that's the real anomaly. 

One thing you can't get over and can't seem to wrap your head around is his fangs. You’ve been told by him it's used to paralyze enemies when needed, and most of the time he forgets it’s there. But in your mind, you keep replaying the times when he talked, or his rare smiles and laughs reserved for only you. How does he eat with it? Did he ever bite himself when he goes on his rants? How does he not have a lisp with how big they are?

When the sharp fangs glints and it sends shivers down your body. Curiosity and arousal clouds you whenever Miguel talks, and it’s honestly distracting at team meetings.

“Hey, you there?” He snaps his fingers in front of you as you blink away the thoughts, realizing a couple of other Spideys in the briefing looking at you with squinted eyes. 

“Oh yeah- Sorry, pre-mission anxiety and all,” You tried to laugh it off, averting from Miguel's worried gaze. He knows you're capable, he knows you're strong, that's the reason why you're always with him on missions, why you're trusted with a team. But those flashing red eyes couldn't help but hesitate each time you leave the base. 

Miguel continues the brief, assigning teams to universes and anomalies. He sends you off with your teams while he leads his. Each team consists of two spideys, if the anomaly is a particularly notorious villain in their respective universes, Miguel would send three. You’re standing next to Jessica, her bike parked just meters from the portal. While the others had already jumped, Miguel stayed behind while Ben jumped first into the portal. The hum of Jessica’s bike startles you and breaks your eyes from staring at Miguel, and she seems to notice.

“Go ahead, go talk to him,” She nods, a small smile on her lips before she rides off into the portal. You sigh, with your boyfriend staying behind, he seems to have the same idea. 

You walk across the metal floor, Miguel standing just near his portal. “So, an easy one today, huh?” 

“Yeah, me and Ben can take care of him, it’s just another Doc Oct,” He checks something on his watch, the orange hologram lighting up. You can't help but notice it gleams against his fangs. 

“Alright, uhm-” You cough, alerting Miguel as he turns to you. “Be safe out there, babe,” 

The way you said those last words, too small for your usual cheerfulness, makes Miguel’s brows furrow. He reaches for your hand, softly holding them. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, I'm fine! Don't worry baby,” You smirk, patting his arm where he’s still holding your hand. “Stay safe, and come back home, okay?” 

Miguel tilts his head slightly, before his lips quirks, a ghost of a smile. “You too, my love,” 

And with that, Miguel turns and enters his portal, the circle closes as he disappears. You sigh, both relieved and frustrated somehow. You shook your head, trying to dissipate those thoughts, at least for the time being. Glancing at your portal, you take another breath, before running and leaping into it, another day of saving the multiverse.

—

“Okay, what's going on?” You turn to Jessica leaning on her bike, arms crossed and one brow raised. It’s the ‘Spill It’ face you’ve come to love, but also loathe when she uses it on you.

“What’s ‘what’ going on?” Jessica scoffs, tilting her head when your back is still facing her while you twip a web at the Lizard's jaw, the anomaly tied and secured, ready for transport. “Nothings going on,”

She sees you shrug as you turn around, her only response is to nod again, gauging an answer. Her eyes stare deep into you, making you gulp as you aver her sharp, questioning glare. A beat passes, your suit suddenly feels clammier than usual. You tug slightly at the part that hugs your neck, looking down at the street. 

“Okay fine!” You huff, a satisfied smirk from Jessica. “I’ve been thinking about Miguel-”

“That's not new sweetie,” She snickers, making you stumble on your words. 

“I’m- I know but it's not about him… I guess?”

“Go on…”

“Have you-” You huff, crossing your arms. “You’ve seen his fangs, right? Those sharp things,” You point to your own little fangs, which makes Jesicca hum.

“Hard not to,” She shrugs.

“You ever wonder how sharp they are?” You tilt your head, fully turning to Jessica. “Y’know it's pretty big, and pretty sharp, I wonder how he doesn't bite himself with it? Or how he doesn't have a lisp, or maybe he can retract them but then when he talks it’s always out so I don't know if he can do that, we’ve kissed a couple of times but I didn't feel those things-”

“Okay whoa there,” She chuckles, walking towards you. “I get it, cool fangs, you’re curious about them,” 

She places her hands on your shoulders, a grin on her lips. “That's what got you all distracted today?”

“Yeah… Sorry,” 

“Oh don't be kid, I get it,” She nods, before giggling. “Not ‘get it’ get it, but you're in love, and love makes curiosity and wonder, and I get that,” She pats your arms.

“Bring that up with Miguel, would’ya?” She grinned, a mischievous glint behind her goggles. You blink, realizing she has started walking back to her bike. You chuckle, a steady blush spreading on your cheeks.

“Y-yeah, I will,” You smile, shooting out webs to bring the anomaly back while Jasicca rides into the portal first.

—

Once the anomalies are stored in their cells and boxes, Miguel debriefs the others while you were making sure each anomaly is accounted for.

“I think that's all, right Lyla?” You nod to her small figure sitting on your shoulder. She looks at one of her holograms before nodding.

“Yep! All here,” Her holograms disappear as she glitches and changes to your right shoulder. She suddenly leans in, a dangerous smirk on her face. “So that's what’s up huh?”

You groan, flinching your shoulder which makes her hologram change to stand in front of you. “Lyla you know I hate it when you listen in,” 

“Hey I always listen in, y’know I’m online at all times,” She snickers. “Don't worry, your secret is safe with me,” 

You huff, which makes her laugh as you roll your eyes. You glance at Miguel, still talking with the other spideys, those distracting fangs just barely visible between his soft lips. 

“Sooo…” Lyla floats in front of you, again. “You plannin’ on saying anything?” 

She can practically hear the gears in your head turning, before you sigh and remove your mask, adjusting your ruffled hair. “I suggest you stay offline tonight,”

Lyla spots the blooming red that spreads across your face, at which she giggles mischievously. “Okay, whatever you say,” She shrugs before glitching to your right. “I'll just hang out with Margo then,” 

“Yeah, thanks Lyla,” A grateful smile on your lips. Lyla nods before she disappears and leaves you alone. 

Miguel has finally wrapped off the debrief and sent the others to do what they please since today's mission is over. The other spideys wave their farewell to you as they pass, you reply while you walk closer to your boyfriend. Jesica passes you, a sly smirk on her lips, before she pats your shoulder. You give her a small smile before nodding, and she’s on her way.

Miguel’s back is turned, busy with his monitor, wrapping up the day. His head tilts a bit, as he notices you're walking toward him. You pull one of the stray chairs to Miguel's platform and as if instincts, he sat down just as you pushed it behind him. His eyes are still scanning the monitors but he turns slightly towards you as you lean on the consoles. 

“Good job out there Miguel,” You smile, glancing at the screens.

“You too, as always,” His lips quirks, one arm rests on the chair while the other swipes at the screen. “Though I have seen some things we can improve on the teams. I haven't debriefed you yet like the others, so listen to me okay?” 

You nodded, crossing your arms into a more relaxed tone. “Good, so according to team three we need to-” 

And that's the last thing you hear before you turn to look at Miguel, catching that sharp glint of those fangs. Around you, Miguel usually lets his guard down, his way of letting you know he trusts you. So he talks more, his hands punctuate what needs to be punctuated, and those lips move wider. In other circumstances, listening to him would be easy, but with each word he spoke, a peak of those sharp fangs caught your attention instead. Miguel continues to point out the images on the screens, occasionally asking you a question to which you responded with a ‘Uhuh’ or ‘Yeah’. That seemed to satisfy Miguel until—

“-And that's to add the upgrades on your suit, what do you think?” 

“Uhuh,” 

“What?” Miguel retracts, tearing his eye away from the screens. “I asked about your suit?”

A beat passes, before you blink, realizing your boyfriend was staring, and shaking yourself out of the daze. “Huh? What did you ask?”

Miguel sighs, crossing his arms. Sadly those muscles adds another point to the distraction. “Were you even listening to me?” 

He stiffens, watches as you stand in front of him, one arm on the chair's headrest, completely trapping him in. Slowly, your other hand moves up, and settles on his jaw. Throughout the months of dating you, Miguel has never seen this side of you, never seen how bold you could be. Steady hands cup his jaw, your thumb gliding across his lips, before you press slightly. As if a switch is flipped, Miguel inhales sharply and parts his lips, inclining his head when you hold his chin. Your thumb moves over his lower set of fangs, before suddenly followed by your other hand, pushing his mouth open to expose his upper, sharper fangs. His eyes flashes and brows furrows slightly, surprised at the sight of your rapt expression, eyes scanning him.

There's a hint of fondness behind those usually irritated gazes as he looks at you before he sighs and opens his mouth to continue his question before you were overcome with the sudden urge to see. You lean off of the console and approach your boyfriend. “Sorry, Miguel I just have to-”

“Fascinating…” You lean closer, taking pride in the way Miguels is stunned, practically crushing the armrest under his claws. Your index pushes at his upper jaw, letting you get an eyeful of that part of Miguel you’ve been dreaming about. It reflects the blue lights in the room, your eyes widen at it. Your thumb touches its start before gliding down to the pointed end, Miguel pants lightly. How would they feel against my skin?

Your eyes roam up to the prominent blush on Miguel's cheeks, the red in his irises shakes. Slowly, you bring him closer, one hand stays on his chin while the other moves behind his head. His eyes flutter as you press your lips against his, his gasp allows you to slide your tongue inside. Carefully, you trace that sharp fang, making Miguel grunt, his hand suddenly gripped your wrist, pulling apart.

“Don't- It’s dangerous,” He says between pants, the blush coloring his beautiful complexion. 

“Paralysis, right?” You smirk, fingers playing at his curled strands. Miguel shivers then swallows hard. “How about we unwind from today,”

A glint in your eyes, watching as Miguel becomes putty between your hands, his blown-out pupils staring at you in reverence. You smirk, breath ghosting against his lips when you bring him closer again.

“Show me what those fangs do, baby,” 

Reblogs appreciated! Requests are opened! <3

[norrisleclercf1]

hii! can i please request a mafia! carlos with reader who are in an arranged marriage and 2 months into the marriage reader is victim of a kidnapping which gets her very sick and Carlos takes care of her while also getting revenge? thank you so much ( i love your writing it’s amazing!)

A/N: I've missed writing for Mafia!Carlos he's just sdfksjlfa especially after those Ferrari gala pcis

Never touch what belongs to Carlos Sainz. This was the golden rule of staying alive and out of sight of the Mafia Leader. Don't touch and don't yearn for what is his, especially his pretty fiancée now wife. Carlos made the rules very clear, touch them and he'll murder you in the most exotic and painful ways to die.

He was careful of you, making sure you were treated with the outmost respect and making sure you were safe and happy. Yes, it was an arranged marriage but that didn't mean he'd treat you horribly. He bought you anything you lingered at too long and of course you'd tell him you didn't need it, but he still bought it.

Carlos and you formed a friendship built on some trust and respect. Waking that morning, it was like any other. You are getting ready, Calros showering him coming out in the towel and kissing your cheek. You giggle and pull him to your vanity as you fix his hair. "Mi felicidad, don't worry about me." He grumbles, trying his best not to let out the moan. Your fingers always felt like magic against his skull.

"Let me do this, you do so much for me." You whisper finishing the last strand happy with the way it sits. "There you go," Carlos smiles and reaches around, grabbing your hand. "Thank you," Placing a kiss on your hand.

After that, your day carries on like normal. Sending a quick text you tell Carlos you're running to the grocery making sure you'd pick up his favorite beer and snacks. He sends you back a text, saying to be careful and he'll see you when you get back.

Smiling you carry the groceries to the car, you stop feeling something heavy hit you in the back of the head, and all you can see is darkness wrapping you tight.

"She should be back," Carlos grounds out, trying to stay calm before he jumps to the worst possible things. "Maybe the store is busy, maybe traffic, shit." Carlos pulls at his hair, but curses as he messes it up. He hates messing up his hair when you're the one who fixed it. "Sir," Carlos whips around, feeling his entire being drop out from under him as he sees his guard holding your bag and broken groceries.

Everything hurt, even that voice in your head was hurting, how was that even possible. "Conejita?" A muffled voice pulls you out of the darkness, trying to open your eyes. "Shh, it's okay. I'm here." Fingers move into your scalp and start to move their thick fingers gently. "I'm right here, and not going anywhere you're safe." The voice fades out as darkness sucks you in again.

"Sir, you need to get some rest." The Mafia doctor whispers, being careful to not anger the growing storm in his boss. "I'll rest when the monsters who did this are dead." Carlos growls, he stops when you whimper and squirm in your sleep. "How's the infection?" Carlos asks, looking at your bandaged side.

"Somewhat better, the antibiotics are working but it'll be a long recovery road." The doc whispers, injecting another dose of the medication. "Good, if she dies," The doctor freezes, already knowing that threat aout to leave his mouth.

He's told everyone that touches you; if you die, so do they. His revenge has been a slow process, as you've been on the mend for 3 weeks and only you opening your eyes maybe 3 or 4 times. He was there for each time and his voice the only one you heard. You knew he was there; his hand was holding yours.

Carlos doesn't know when the man leaves, all he knows is you're breathing, and color was coming back. "Mi corazón, babe, Y/n, I need you to wake up. Please, come back to me." Carlos whispers, having never missed a person like this before. He was craving you like a drug.

"Sir, I'm sorry to bother you but," Carlos turns, placing a quick kiss before he stands. "Did you find them?" "Yes sir, they're here." Carlos rolls his neck and shoulders before smirking, a dark look crossing his face. "Well then, let's get to work."

[yuyu1024]

Babe

Pairings: S.coups × y/n

Genre/tags: protective/possessive bf

Warning: 🔞🔞🔞 fluff but smut, unprotected sex, pet names, cursing, semi public, handjob

~~~ [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 3k

Disclaimers:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

A/N: looong time no post. ✨️I was away... got sick and mentally not doing okay... and I dont think im 100% okay yet...Its been hard but still trying my best :)

i might be coming back to writing here and there... but not consistent. Hopefully you understand...

meaning, i will be a 🐌 in updating nor posting and won't be online mostly. 🖤

(i cant promise i can jump back to the Yoongi/Suga series yet also sorry 😭 hopefully one day but not soon.)

Me writing... is depending if im okay.

Also, Thank you for the kind messages in DMs. I really do appreciate them...even tho i don't reply 🖤 pls know its very helpful.

Thank you.

P.S its been a long time since i wrote anything so.... rusty.🥲 this is my just trying to get back to it.

-----------------------------------------------------

Seungcheol, your boyfriend, texted you to meet him at school. Which surprised you the second you read it because it has been weeks since he went to school.

He has been doing special online classes these past weeks as he can't walk. Yet. He slipped while playing soccer with the boys two months ago causing an injury on his left leg. It was very painful to watch him yell in pain during that game. It was supposed to be just a fun game with his friends and you and their other friends watching but yeah, accidents happen.

"What are you doing here?" You gasp the second you enter the University clinic and saw your boyfriend sitting and chatting with the school doctor.

"Babe." He smiles and opens his arm, asking for a welcome hug

"Babe!" You squeal and immediately run and hugged him tightly.

"I missed you." He mumbles lightly lifting you off the floor even he's sitting on the clinic's bed.

He never lost his strength.

"Ditto." You say and kissed him on his cheek before letting go. "Wait... why are you here?" You ask again. "He can go back to school now?" You turn to ask the doctor behind you

"He can. But I still suggest no." He folds the folder his holding and sits down on his desk. "He can walk now with crutches easily yes... but... going up and down... walking building to building to classes...." doctor shakes his head

"I'm just here to visit, babe." Cheolie says caressing your back. "To report my health to him... to let know the team..."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry..." he press his lips together and giving you an apologetic look.

"I'll leave you two to talk... I have to go on a meeting now in the faculty. Just let the nurse know when you leave okay? So she can assist you with the wheel chair."

"Okay, doc. Thank you."

And as soon as the doctor leaves and shut the door close behind him, Seungcheol immediately grabs you by the waist, pull you close to his body and leans in to fully kiss you.

It feels rushed at the beginning but as soon as you find the perfect spot to lean your body weight to his, it felt smooth and just sensational. You even opened your mouth completely to let his tongue explore you.

You two haven't kissed for awhile. The rent is due.

"I missed you so much." He whisper as he pulls away to take a breather.

"This is the longest we've been away from each other..." you say as you straighten your stand

"Yeah... I got busy healing..."

"And I got busy at school... and at home..." you answer as you sit down beside him. "How are you feeling at the moment?"

"Good....well.. better now that I've kissed you." He smirks and plants a tiny kiss on your temple

"Babe..." you lean on his shoulder

"You know you always make me feel good..." he chuckles. "Also... Doc said my leg is healing pretty good..."

"That's good to hear..." you stand up once again. "So... can I--"

And before you could ask him another question about visiting him soon at home Seungcheol kisses you on your cheek and then on the back of your hand.

"Thank you for always calling me... every night... making sure to check on me... give me updates at school and being an understanding girlfriend. Even though you are tired yourself."

"I didn't do that much." You say holding his hand. "If only I could visit you personally I would..."

But you couldn't. It's not like he leaves far away from you. It's just that you wanted him to just rest. You know how he is when he sees you. He gets excited and acts everything is fine even though he is in pain.

He would probably force himself to get up when you visit him. It's kind og his thing to show off he is strong. Especially to you. He is your alpha lover.

"No...babe. just you calling has saved me from a lot of bad moods and not doing my therapies because... I'm not in the mood." He kisses your hand again.

"Well I'm glad... I could help..." you say smiling.

"And also..." he then bites his lower lip whilst smiling. You already know what he's about to say with those cheeky smirks.

"Hush..." you cover his mouth with your hand, scared that he might say it outloud and the nurse from behind the door might hear. "That's for us only..." you whisper.

He is referring to the video call sessions you do every now and then. To help him when he is... sad and horny.

"You promised... no one should know..."

"Of course..." he murmurs, his mouth is still covered by your hand. "The images are for my eyes to see and for my dick to feel only." He adds and then playfully licks your palm, making you jump a little.

"Hey!" You slap him on his shoulder

He is grinning so much. He is enjoying your reactions. "You're so adorable being shy..." he puts his arm around your waist, securing you between his legs. "My shy little fairy..." he mumbles just before he kisses you again.

You don't deny him of any sort of making out. Even at the clinic. Why woulf you? You missed him so bad too.

So bad that even his hands is skimming your body and even lifting your short A-Line skirt, exposing your bum, just to squeeze it is fine. Perfectly fine.

"Wait." He pauses and looks you in the eyes. "You are wearing a skirt this short... with no protective shorts under?"

"Hmm?" You look at him, confused for a second. "Oh."

He is yout alpha, yes. And one trait of him that is very dominant is him being protective of you. He does not like anyone hurting you, being mean to you and most especially drooling over you. You are his and only his.

"What you mean oh?" He raises a brow. "Well? Why aren't you wearing one?"

You don't have a good excuse. You just forgot. Well... you have been forgetting since he have been away.

"Y/N..."

"You're now calling me by name...." you move back away a little. "I'm sorry... I have no excuse..."

"What if some maniac sees you? When you go up stairs? Or the elevator in the media building? You know its glass right? They can see... what if wind blows and..." he sighs, frustrated. "You know how most guys are."

"I know... I'm really sorry." You pout. "I didn't purposely forget it..."

You see the change in his mood. He is very possessive of you so you know that just the idea of any guy looking at you because they find you cute or have interest of being close to you and whatever, he's already on guard.

He sighs again and also he's already grabbing his crutches.

"Leaving already?" You say in the softes tone.

"Yeah..." he stands up and calls on the nurse for assistance.

"Okay..." you lower your gaze.

You are not sure how to tame your boyfriend since this time you know you are at fault for forgetting and breaking a promise you told him after he was told to stay at home.

You stand up and sling your bag over your shoulder. "Just... call me when you get home."

"I will not call you." He says as he sits down on the wheel chair. "You're coming home with me."

"Wait. What?" You ask

The nurse enters the room and greets the two of you.

"Ready to go home?" The nurse asks

"Yes." Seungcheol smiles at her. "I have a scheduled therapy this afternoon..."

"Oh... I see... goodluck then." She says as she helps to push your boyfriend

"Y/N..." he calls your name out again.

This is the second time he called you by name. He is clearly not okay with the skirt situation. This never happened before.

***

You both arrived at his parent's house. They welcomed you and hugged you even. They thanked you for being a support system for their son even though physically you can't come because, well, they know how their son acts around you.

It's not a secret that their son is so in love with you that he's very clingy and trying to act cool and such.

"I already made food for the two of you so just reheat it if you decide to eat later."

"Oh. Thank you Mrs. Choi." You say

"It's nothing dear... also... thank you for being his care taker for tonight... we will enjoy our night on out staycation at the city." His mother says

You are stunned to hear what Mrs. Choi just said. You can't react beside just smiling and nodding. "Ah... ahm... don't worry about us... I'm going to take good care of him."

"Thank you, again." Mr. Choi says.

"We'll get going now... see you tomorrow afternoon, dear." She says to her son who is sitting in the sofa drinking his cola.

"Have fun, Mom and Dad!" He waves at them

And as soon the door shuts and you hear the car engine from outside.

"What the fuck was that?" You stomp you way towards him. "Care taker... tonight?? Babe?"

Nonchalantly he answers. "You will be staying for the night here with me... until tomorrow..."

"Why?"

"Why not?" He looks at you with a coldest stare. "Do you have any other plans? Are you meeting with anyone?"

"No..."

"And then... stay...."

"But... my parents..."

"I already told them... they are fine with it."

"When?"

"I called them earlier... before I texted you to come to the clinic."

You are in complete shock. "Cheolie..." you whine

"Now, you're calling me by name?" He raises a brow. "Why are you acting like that? It's like you don't want to stay with me."

"That's not it."

"Then what?"

You sigh. You are lost for words.

Yes you should be happy you are spending time with your boyfriend but he could've told you. You would say yes if he asked or told you.

You are just stunned maybe or confused with him doing this too since he's been being snappy at you since earlier.

"Whatever." You mumble throwing your bag to the floor and just sitting down at the chair opposite of where he's sitting.

Now you are the one in the bad mood.

"I still have the clothes and undergarments you left from last time..." he then says in a much calmer tone.

"Okay." You answer not looking at him.

You are not mad at him. You are just not happy with what he did. He probably wanted to surprise you with the idea earlier but since it got ruined during your clinic make out session. Now things are...

"Babe." He calls you

You turn your head to look at him. He looks serene now.

"Can you please come here..." he says

You get up and make your way to him, to sit down beside him.

"Not there." He says holding on to your wrist and leading you to move somewhere else. "Here..." he gestures for you to sit on top of him.

"But... your leg..."

"I can manage..." he breathes and then tugs you down so he could kiss you, cupping your face with one hand.

Your hands are now on his chest for balance support. You tried pulling away from the kiss but

"Sit..." he says in between the kiss.

And you do as he says. Kneeling down on the sofa, legs spread between his thighs, you sit down on him and slowly put your arms around his neck.

"Cheolie..." your lips part ways as you spoke and he tries to chase the kiss again but you bite your lips together. "Wait..."

"Why...?" He pouts

"What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" He runs his hands from your legs to your thighs and then underneath your skirt.

"You were just so cold to me... not even talking to me like I'm your girlfriend... and now you're kissing me and touching me..."

He throws his head back for a second and then sighs. "Babe, I'm sorry.... I was... well..."

"I said I'm sorry about the skirt... Don't worry. I will just wear pants starting on monday...."

"You sure?"

"Yeah... I promise." You kiss the tip of his nose. "I will just wear skirts when I'm with you."

"Really?" He raises a brow with matching smirk, biting his lower lip.

"Yeah..." you move your hips forward knowing what this tiny move will do to him. "I know you like to have easy access with me when we're together..." you softly say

He grunts as he feel you move a bit more. Rocking your hips over his erection that's sort of protected by his black jogging pants.

"I know what you're doing..." he hums

"And I know you like... what I'm doing..."

His smile goes ear to ear. "You're lucky I can't stand on my own yet... If I could..."

"What will you do?"

"Carry you over my shoulders and spread you on top of my bed..."

"And...?" You put your forehead to his.

"And...fuck you 'till dawn..."

Just the thought made you horny and wanting him. But since he can't do what he usually does to you, you decide to handle this on your own.

"You can still fuck me..." you say, grinning. "We have all night till tomorrow to find a way... a position you want me to be in."

"Fucking hell, babe." He grunts, sounding excited and turned on.

You adjust your position, making sure you can access him easily. Him meaning his long veiny length that's already leaking.

"Shit! Ah!" His mouth drops the second you hold onto him. His eyebrows is showing how he's loving the way you stroke and pump him. "Babe..." he moans. "Babe... aaaaahhh..." he throws his head back, his hands on his hair, trying to hold on to reality coz he is floating in heaven right now.

"Should I... let the tip touch me?"

"Touch... you?" He looks at you, brows furrowed from the high.

You already removed your panties off without him noticing.

"Yes... like this...." you then adjust your position back on top of him and lowered yourself just enough for the tip of his dick feel your entrance.

"Babe, fuck!" He snarls throwing his head back. "Your so damn wet already..."

You let him feel the wetness for awhile before you ease him in you.

"Holy... shiiiiit!"

"Ngggeeeaaah..." you breathe in as you suck him in whole.

"You're doing great babe." He pushes the hair off your face. "Don't rush it... just... feel it... feel me..."

When he's completely in you, you didn't move. You just hugged your man and took a breather.

"I can't believe my little fairy is being so daring..."

"Because I want to give you what you want... what you need..." you mumble on his neck.

"Babe, you know I can wait till I'm healed and ready to fuck you..."

"I know..." you look him in his eyes, "but I miss it too..."

"You do?"

You nod. "Us video calling... while we... you know... is not enough... I thought it was enough... but when I saw you earlier... I really did missed you more than I can imagine."

"You miss my dick?" He tease

"Babe!" You hide your face on his neck again.

"Ugh..." he suddenly moans. "Wow. I didn't know you get tigher when I tease you."

Seungcheol starts to move his hips a little, to ease dipper into you.

"Ah..." you exhale shakily. "Cheolie...hmmm...."

"You like that?"

"I do."

Then you start to move yourself.

You leaned back a little, pushing forward and pulling backward in motion to meet his slow but deep thrusting.

"Cheolie..." you cry his name as you feel like reaching your climax.

"Just let it go..."

"Fuck!" You throw your head back, panting and shaking. "Come with me..." you say, "come....with me..." you clentch more down there, making him feel the tightness.

"But babe..." biting on his lips, hissing and trying to control himself. "We don't have condoms."

"I don't care." You lean in for a sloppy kiss. "Come with me. I need to see you... melt with me..."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Babe..."

"Please..." you beg, "I want to feel it..."

"Fuck it!" He snarls as he goes to squeeze your ass under your skirt as he picks up the pace with you

It's amazing how strong he is. Even with an injured leg he could lift his hips to meet yours.

"Aaah!!" You moan as loudly as you can as you felt something in you pop.

He growls as soon as feel his length starts to release and feel the warmth in you.

"Fuck babe..." he is panting. "Our first time you being on top..."

Embarassed after your orgasm, you hug your man and hide your face again. "I only did what I know and can..."

"You did amazing... your handjob is what I needed to get me into the a frenzy." Then he kisses the top of your head. "I fucking love you... whatever you do... makes me love you even more..."

"I love you too..." you go for a kiss again. But then burst into a giggle when you felt him move. "You are still in me... I can feel you."

A smile spread over his lips, "Maybe we should continue this on my bed. I can do other positions and pump more in you if you want."

You grin, blushing. "I'd love to."

[no-nameno-face]

Taken Care Of Audio (read story first)

TAKEN CARE OF (WITH AUDIO)

Pairing: Reader x Ellie Williams

Summary: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, minors do not interact. You will be blocked. Ellies had a long, hard day on patrol, and after stitching her up she requests some TLC. 

Warnings: Smut heavy, sub!reader, dom!ellie, face riding (E!receiving), oral (E!receiving), masturbation (R!), cum eating (kinda)? Praise kink, minor blood kink, pain kink, stitches, boob play (E!receiving), first time smut writing, did not proof read (but probably should have...)

Author's Notes: Soooo I've never written smut before, lmfao. I made the audio first, for my thirsty Ellie girls on tiktok but this audio got a bit… out of hand (wayyy too graphic) so I didn't want to post it on there. I had a whole scenario in mind with the audio so I figured I might as well write it down and share it here. I am also very obsessed with Ellie receiving so I subconsciously brought that to life while editing the audio. I know it's not great, but it was very fun to make and write soo.. Please be nice to me, I'm sensitive. Lol. (I put in the story when the audio clip applies, the story starts with context) I’d like to improve my writing cause this was a good time so any advice would be appreciated!!

I hear the door downstairs creak open and shut, a bit louder than normal. I can track the footsteps marching to the stairs and I listen with a small smile as the thuds make their way up. I hear soft profanities getting closer. Ellie is home. 

Sitting on our bed I turn my head right in time to see the door open, grinning at her as she walks in. She has that crease in her brow that I recognize as her tell-tell sign that she had a shit day. She shoots me a sly glance before looking away to take her flannel off leaving her in a white tank, dirty and disheveled she pulls it over her head. 

My eyes trace down her back, scarred and bruised. Muscular, and toned. Heart flutters, and a familiar heat builds. It's crazy how after all these years just seeing her still triggers these primal feelings. She just does something to me. She always has. My eyes stop wondering when I see a deep fresh cut following the curve of her hip. 

“Shit els? What happened” I get up and pace towards her keeping my eyes on the wound. 

She bends over pulling her shoes off, losing her balance a bit and mumbling a frustrated “fuck” under her breath. Now behind her, I prod at the gash and she swears again. I can feel her flinch. 

“I'll go get the stitches, sit down.” I say pulling her to the bed. She hits the bed with a thud and leans her elbows onto her knees.Shaking her head “it's not that bad babe, im fine.” She looks up at me and gives a half-hearted smile.

“I know you're fine,” I say, giving her a gentle look “I just don't want it to get infected, okay?” 

“Anything you say doc” she says with a smirk before turning to address the cut herself. She touches it lightly and winces when her fingers make contact. I head to the bathroom across the hall from our room and grab the small white kit from the medicine cabinet, and make my way back to our room. She's still sitting at the end of the bed, now rolling her neck side to side. 

I plop on the bed behind her, “okay, are you gonna tell me what happened now?” trying to distract her as I begin stitching the gash closed. Her back flexes and I hear her sharp intake of breath. Heart flutters. 

“Fucking stalkers. I hate those things” she says, shaking her head and looking up to the ceiling. “I was on patrol,”

“With Jesse right?”

“Don't remind me,” she says with a scoff that is cut off by another huff as I add a new stitch. Damn. Every breath in sync with the sutures releases a morbid butterfly into the pit of my stomach.  “Yeah, I was on patrol with jesse. We were checking out that one restaurant by the lodge, and I found an entrance to the attic. That place has been cleared out for like forever, so I went up on my own and got jumped by a stalker.” she shrugged her shoulders. “Fucking thing nailed me into an old piece of plywood. Piece of shit.” I tie her last stitch off, and give her a gentle pat to tell her she was finished. I got up and made my way to the bathroom to put the kit back.

I turned in the doorway on my way out, “Maybe you should’ve been more careful.” She swings her head at me with squinted eyes. I shrug and turn, heading to the bathroom “just saying!” 

“Fuck off” she calls back, I lightly laugh.

Back in the bedroom, she's lying on her stomach, head resting on her hands. “And then of course Jesse had to give me a fucking lecture about not going anywhere on my own, team communication! All that bullshit.” She turns onto her side propping herself up with one arm, “I’m just so fucking over it.” she looked absolutely exasperated. Oh how I love her dramatics. I sit facing her and her free hand falls to my hip. She looks at her hand, then up to me. Those green eyes, familiar and warm. Home. I smile at her. 

“That sucks. I'm sorry. I mean Jesse should know by now, there's no getting through that thick skull of yours. What's a lecture gonna do?” I smirk at her.

“Ouch.” she sneers at me, one brow up. She lets out a quiet laugh, and looks back down to her hand on my waist. “Thanks for stitching me up babe.”

“You know I don't mind.” I say casually. She smiles, an inside joke painting a picture on the walls of her thoughts. 

“So weird that you're into that.” she chuckles

“I'm not into that.. I just..” her eyes darted to mine. My heart pounded in my ears. She's right, but it was just so blunt. “There's just something about a strong woman who needs my help.” I say fawning innocent eyes, partially joking, but subconsciously egging her on. She sees right through me.  

She raises her eyebrows, taking her hand from my hip and pushing herself up so she's sitting opposite of me. She smiles, “so stupid.” her eyes drift down to my lips, then back to me. I feel red flush my cheeks. Her gaze darkens slightly, noticing. She tilts her head looking at me. “I mean it's okay that you are, i'm not kink shaming” Her hand meets my thigh, electric, and she gives me a sideways smile. I gape at her, trying to make light of the tension building between us.

“So you like taking care of strong women? Yeah?” she says quietly with a smile in her voice as her eyes trace down my body to her hand. Her thumb started circling the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. “Funny, you're normally the one that begs to be'' she looks up at me teasingly “taken care of.” Fuck. I feel heat pool in my belly. My knees squeeze together by their own volition. She feels it and her teasing gaze turns to something else as her eyes shift to them. She bites her lip subtly. This woman. 

Her hand moves to the button of her pants, “well i did have a hard day,” she undoes it and glances at me with an evil smile. “And since you enjoy taking care of strong women” she pulled on her zipper. “Mind doing me a favor?”

Jesus Christ.

“What do you have in mind?” I say, wide eyed. I try to sound cool but my voice comes out hungry. Starved. I watch the switch flip in Ellie's eyes at my words. 

“Take your shirt off.” she demanded with raised brows, and before I could think I was pulling her baggy shirt I was lounging in over my head. I'm left sitting there topless, with nothing but my black underwear on. She rolled famished eyes over my bare skin for what seemed like an eternity. Her eyes settled back on mine. I fidgeted my hands in my lap, feeling suddenly too vulnerable. She leans in slowly without breaking eye contact and my breath catches. Inches from me she whispers “Take off my pants.” 

Immediately I am in her service, at her beck and call. She knows all she has to do is ask. I'll do anything for her. She leans back onto her hands and lifts her hips slightly as I peel her jeans down the soft, yet lean, curves of her hips. Down her thighs, over her knees, and then calves, my eyes tracing every line of her legs. I toss them on the floor, and look back up to her awaiting further instruction. Her eyes are smiling with a dark inflection. 

“Lay down.” I looked at her confused, thinking I was the one taking care of her. Her tone was not a question however, so I obliged. I centered myself on the bed and pulled the nearest pillow under my head, keeping my eyes on her as she stood up and took her white boxers off. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of her. Pretty, untamed. My knees squeeze, I don't try to hide it. She looks at them, and scans back up to my eyes. She stares into me as she walks around the bed to my side. I bite at my nail anxiously. 

“I want you to take care of me, make me feel good m’kay? Can you do that for me?” she asks with a small smile. I nod.

She looks over me once again (START OF AUDIO) “fuck, you look so pretty.” She climbs onto the bed, looking at me like prey to a predator. “Be a good girl for me” she whispers, as she swings one of her legs over my head. Shit, I get it now. Her pussy meets my lips and she lets out a soft “fuck” at my eager mouth. My arms wrap around her thighs, hands gripping soft flesh. She starts to move, pleasuring herself on my tongue. She moans softly, “needed this” she says desperately as her eyes drift close and her head drifts to the ceiling. Her taste envelopes me, her wetness growing by the second with the addition of my saliva wetting her folds. 

“Okay,” she moans, picking up her pace, grinding against my face. She looks down at me, before her eyes dart shut “There!”  I feel her body pulse at the peak of her thrusts and I know she's found her spot. Her bud flicking roughly over my tongue. “Oh shit.. There. There we go” she continues at her pace for a moment. Her pulsing getting stronger. Her eyes snap open and peer at me “Jesus, you feel so good.” she says as her head rolls back and her eyes closed again. She continues her rhythm as I pull my arm from under her leg and skim my hand up her body “okay” she says lost in the sensation. My palm cups her right breast and I squeeze impatiently, then rub a loving thumb over her nipple, circling it. “Damn… yeah” she sighs then her hand meets mine and squeezes the sensitive flesh with me “Baby just like that.” she bites her lip with a whispered “fuck” as she rides my face. 

Her moans and the graphic sound of her wetness fill the room. I reach my other hand down into my underwear and begin circling my own clit firmly, unable to avoid the tension building within my own body. “Fuck me.” she whines into the air, before looking down to me with adoring eyes, “that's my good girl.” her eyes tighten, “lets go” she whispers as she begins to grind harder and faster into my mouth. “Come on.” My hand on my core meets her pace. “Good. There. Okay. There we go” I love how she talks mindlessly when we fuck. Her voice is enough to bring me closer to my own apex. I begin moaning beneath her, unable to contain my own pleasure. She looks down at me “shhhh shh shh shh” she hushes as she pulls my hand from my aching clit before I can reach my undoing. I whimper in disappointment as she pulls my arm from beneath her leg and takes my other one from her chest before pinning them above my head in her strong hands, deepening her weight into my face. “Shut up” she corrects. 

Her rhythm continues and I can tell the new pressure she's added is building her quickly. “God damn.” she says as her eyes squeeze shut. “Okay” That same wrinkle between her eyes deepens again, this time out of pleasure. She rides harder pushing the back of my head further into the pillow. Her moans grow louder, more animalistic. her hands on my wrists tighten to the point that I am sure that there will be a mark. “Holy fuck” she gasps. She pushes hard against me and I can feel the pulse intensify, her sounds grow and grow until suddenly her hands let go of my wrists and bury deep into my hair, pushing me even further into her just at the right time when her head falls back in quiet breathy moans, she rides out her high on my mouth. Her legs shaking and clit pounding as I suck against it,  encouraging her. Tasting her. Worshiping her. She lets out a whimpering breath at the end of her climax and looks down at me beneath her. “Oh my god babe.” She slowly lifts off of my face and I see her flinch slightly at the air touching her sensitivity. She takes a breath before looking at me with a lazy smile.

 “All right. Your turn.”

[lyrenminth]

have a request for a joe burrow fic can u do one where the reader has surgery and joe takes care of her in the hospital

Partnership

The pain started during the night. At the beginning you thought they were cramps, no big deal until the pain got worse and worse. You tried not to wake up Joe, who was peacefully sleeping next to you. You went to the bathroom and sat on the toilet and you saw blood like you were in your period. You changed your underwear for a pad, but you were bleeding a lot, and you couldn't stand up from the pain. You started gasping for air, and cried silently.

Something was wrong.

Joe knocked the door and open it. "Babe, what's wrong?" He asked, when he saw you crying, sitting on the toilet his face changed from sleepy to alarmed in matter of seconds. "What's happen? Are you having cramps?" he got closer.

"I'm bleeding a lot, and I'm having a-a lot of pain" you cried "I can't stand up and I'm feeling dizzy"

"I'm calling an ambulance" he went back to the room, looking for his phone. When you started feeling wet your legs you realized it was blood. "Joe!" You called him, weakly.

After a couple of minutes, you were on his arms, he was carrying you outside the bedroom and laid you on the floor. You closed your eyes, sleepy. "Baby, hey, it's not time to sleep, baby" you felt a hand touch your face. His voice sounded distant but you could hear the worry and anxiety. "Hey, honey please, wake up, the ambulance it's closer but I need you to stay up, okay?"

You nodded, opening your eyes only to look at his blue eyes. Joe seemed like an angel coming for you. But he was frowning and talking to the phone.

You wanted to stay awake but he was getting blurred, and the world was so slow. "Baby, don't sleep, don't do this to me" fear, Joe was scared.

***

You woke up with the beeping sound of some device. You looked around, confused. Your eyes stopped on Joe, sleeping on the couch. He looked so peaceful and handsome as always. When you tried to incorporate, a pain in your lower abdomen made you flinch. You hissed and laid back again.

Joe woke up, and stood up, rubbing his eyes. "Are you up" he stated. "What happened?" you asked. "You were losing a lot of blood" he took your hand and squeeze slightly "Damn, I thought...I thought you wouldn't-" he shook his head, keeping the thought away "You scared me,bad" he kissed your forehead and looked for any sign of discomfort.

"Sorry, I don't know what happened" you apologize. "The doc said something about your left ovary" he explained a little embarrassed he couldn't provide more info. "Let me call a nurse"

Minutes later a doctor and a nurse entered the room.

"Oh, Mrs Burrow. How are you feeling now?" The doctor said, she was friendly.

"Better" you replied.

"Yes, we have to do a emergency surgery for your left ovary. You had an enormous cyst that exploded" she explained "you lost blood but we could bring you back"

Your breathe shakily. The nurse checked your pressure, while the doctor explained the process and your recovery.

"No lifting heavy things, and you need to rest. We're going to have you here for the day but tomorrow you can go to your house" she looked at Joe "I'm sure you are in good hands, he was so worried about you"

You looked at Joe but he was serious. Did you really scared him? There was a turmoil of emotions inside you.

Once you were alone, he was still holding your hand. You touch his hand, playing with his fingers. "Are you ok?" he had bags under his eyes, and looked a little bit messy.

"Yes, I'm tired. I was calling your parents and everyone to let them know the situation" he replied. "So don't worry about that, you need to rest"

Joe was with you until the last minute you left to the hospital. He helped you to get into the car, bought the medicine the doctor gave you and healthy food your dinner. "I need to take a bath, I feel sticky" you confessed, he snorted but help you to undress. He was so gently with you, you almost cry. When he tried to get into the shower, you stopped him. "Baby, I think I'm alright" you said, giving him a kiss.

"Are you sure?" he asked, but he was holding your elbows like you were leaving forever.

"Yes, I-I can do this"

"Just yell my name if you need something"

Once the shower was over, he looked for your clothes and help you to dress again. "Do you want me to braid your hair?" It was one of his hidden talents. When you taught him, he learned fast and actually like to braid your hair. "I find it relaxing" he explained.

You nodded and sat on a chair, and his hands caressing your hair relaxed you so much you were falling asleep.

"Joe" you mumbled, "Mmm?"

"Did I scared you?" silence, he never stopped moving his hand though "Yes"

"I'm sorry"

"Don't apologize. You didn't know"

"Joe, the doctor told me she had to removed my left ovary" you starting saying, finding the courage to continue "it's going to be difficult for me to get pregnant"

"That's ok, you are here right now. That's what matters"

" I know you wanted a family"

"Yes, but I want my wife to be healthy too"

"Thank you" you cried. His reassurance was relieving. When he finished braiding your hair, he brought you a soft dinner, and while you ate he took a shower.

Joe always took care of you when he could. As you did with him. You were a couple.

A team.

Thank you for this request. I have a similar fanfiction written about Joe too, but it's shorter. You can check it on the masterlist!

[mntalbrakdown]

thinkin' bout you - H. Callahan

masterlist!

mentons of: smut, MDNI, makeouts, cussing, closeted, cheating, thigh riding, oral (r! receiving) exhibitionism, slight nudes sending idk,,,?

synopsis: you were dating a football player, but also sneaking around with Hazel

wc: 3.7k

gif by @taiturner

friday night lights, a total shit show. the girls on the cheer team didn't know how to follow the choreography of the cheers and they just do whatever they want. almost like everyone else. you on the other hand just gave up and stand there smacking your pom poms together and muttering the chants.

"are you excited about today" Isabel asks you with Josie's arm wrapped around her

"yeah" you say with a weak smile.

your boyfriend, Brody or whatever his name is, you really didnt care about him, was sitting right next to you. he was in football in whatever position, you never kept up with him. you just dated him because Brittany and Isabel wanted you to.

"hey babe want to go to get food before then game" your boyfriend asks twirling a strand of your hair in between his fingers

"i would love to, but um I have plans" you say looking directly at Hazel. she was playing around with the schools pasta, scared of the bad food. she had on her brown sweater with green pants and her red doc martens paired with her silver chain that always made you go feral

in all honesty, you have been secretly hooking up with Hazel, for the past few months. you hated it because you truly did like Hazel. yet you felt that you had to hide that side of yourself. but you decided by the end of this week you would break up with Brody.

—-

when the bell rang signifying lunch was over you got up from the table that contained all your friends or as your boyfriend called them the loser lesbians. you waved at them goodbye and stared long on Hazel. Brody wrapped his arm around your shoulder that was wearing his letterman jacket, with your oversized black pants and a white simple baby tee. as you walked down the halls you met eyes with Hazel, you smiled at her while she rolled her eyes

it was all in slow motion. she looked mad, but she never told you anything or showed any annoyance all week. you were confused, what did you do? you just saw her be happy. now you were worried. who was she walking with? it was a pretty girl who was giggling and all over Hazel, why were you so... so annoyed? you knew you had no place in doing so

"i think im going to walk to class alone" you say looking up to your boyfriend

"what why" he says stopping in the middle of his tracks

"feeling sick, dont want to get you sick when the game is in four hours you say walking away while you put your headphones on. you needed to escape this place and start letting yourself relax

you walked past everyone down the halls, you usually are so chipper and say hi to your mutuals but today you felt like putting on a hoodie and hiding. people could tell something was up, this wasn't like you. even when you get into an argument with Brody you could practically jump off the walls. this time you felt a stream of tears go down your face. you got yourself together from your five-second slump because crying in front of people is so…yuck!

so you walked into Mr. G's class head held high and when you reached your desk next to Hazel you slumped down like usual.

"so how is Brody" Hazel asks nonchalantly to you as everyone waited for the bell to ring

"he's good, were good" you say looking directly at Hazel trying to see if she was playing a game with you

"cool because I might start seeing this girl, she's available and likes me" Hazel could basically hear the breaks and cracks of your teeth by how tense you were

"I'm happy for you haze, hope she treats you right," you say as calmly as possible

"so...you're ok with it" she asks, but lets be honest she cannot take hints nor sarcasm

"yeah" you say nodding and taking out your notebook from your backpack

---

after class ended and you kept passing looks at Hazel with the ends of your mouth turned downwards.you couldn't actually believe it, but you couldn't hold a grudge. you got up quickly packing all your stuff and getting ready to leave school since that was your last class. you had plans on hanging out with Hazel, but those plans quickly crumbled to the ground

you practically ran out of there not wanting to be held up. Josie and Pj snickering about how you've been acting weirder after lunch. you could hear fast footsteps come closer to you until they finally reached you.

"wait up" they pull your arm to meet your face

"hey!" you exclaim, you just wanted to make it to your car

"what's wrong" Hazel says guiding your face to her, her eyebrows knitting togetehr when she sees you look upset

"nothing it's stupid" Hazel quickly shook her head, how could she be so tender when you're such a brat

"is it about me and her” Hazel asks seeing how your demeanor changed in a heartbeat just thinking about the other girl

“no” you say but she knew you were lying by the way you looked down

“was i just supposed to wait for you to break up with your stupid boyfriend” Hazel slightly raises her voice

“no, but i told you i was going to break up with him by the end of the week” you say pressing your lips together in anger

“than do it, i’ve been all over you for the past few months, and it certainly didnt look like you were, i mean the jacket?” Hazel clenches her jaw trying her best not to get her anger to overflow

“can we please leave” you whisper, you could feel people stare and overhear you in the crowded halls

which Hazel obliges and grabs your hand to lead you to her parked car. she had a Tesla, I mean she was rich what did you expect. she claimed her mom passed it down to her when her mom got a Mercedes as if it’s something everyone does.

she opened the door for you to get in the passenger seat. when you were fully seats and deep breathing to calm yourself down you hear Hazel open the driver door and sit down

“i’m sorry, it’s not fair” you say looking at how Hazels pupils dilated to how soft you became

“it’s ok, i just, want you” Hazel says smiling showing her pearly whites

“ok alpha male” you joke causing the tension to rise and disappear

you caught eyes with Hazel when you finally stopped laughing. and whatever energy you once had converted to lust. you stopped moving and slowly leaned into Hazel to kiss. the kiss was deep and passionate. Hazel slowly pulled your hair to get you to moan so she could slip her tongue. the fight for dominance was strong. so much so that when you pulled away to catch your breath a string of saliva stretched from both of your mouths.

“god i missed this” Hazel said cupping your cheek with her left hand, to be frank it was only a week since your last hookup but time it time and you yearned for her

“i missed you” you say going to quickly kiss hazel as she went over the center console to your seat

she made your seat go all the way back and reclined it so you were laying down as she was in between your legs. she was so eager to take your pants off when you try to push her away

“woah, we’re still at school we can’t do this” you say seeing all the kids walk to their car

“relax my windows are tinted, like illegally, you can’t see in” she says as she shimmied your pants off seeing how you easily relaxed

“Haze” you say as she threw your pants to the back seat

“yeah pretty” she asks looking at you with lustful eyes

“yeah? going to make you scream so loud that your voice goes raspy for a few days” Hazel says quickly kissing the top of your forehead as she goes to kneel back down to your core

“nothing, just missed this” you say as she quickly came up to kiss you

she does back down to your thong covered core that was already soaked. “this for me” she says making you lightly slap her face in embarrassment “it’s hot” she praises

she continued to play and tease you. she slightly moved your panties to the side to just take a quick peak. she than quickly slid the thin cloth down your legs and tucked it in her pants

“Haze you can’t keep those” you say reaching down to try to snatch them back

“i’ll give them back when you break up with him” she says with a bitterful mouth

she than goes to lick a strip of your core. making you arch your back from the seat. than she went in a swing time, sucking for longer and playing with your clit with her tongue.

“Fuck Haze just like that” you squirm in your seat

she continued her attack. kissing and sucking your cunt with her mouth. she was practically making out with it. from time to time she would look up from between your legs and see your scrunched up face and hands pulling her hair.

“god you look beautiful like this” she says moving from your core to the inner thigh and lightly biting it

“haze, god you’re so good” you praise her because of how good she’s making you feel

her calloused hands always feel so nice on you. you love the contrast between your soft skin and her rough. partly because you knew she had ragged skin because of the fight club that made you two meet.

Hazel runs her large hands along your thighs as she pulls away from you to kiss the inside of your thighs leaving love marks to mark you as hers.

“You always look so pretty.” She gives you a lopsided smile, giving you a boost of confidence so you could reach your climax

Hazel's big blue eyes glimmer and sparkle in the dim light, showcasing adoration and lust. She always wonders how you’re so fucking perfect. How she found the most beautiful person to walk this planet. She honestly questions how she even managed to pull you, let alone keep you. aside from having to share with Brody. She takes her bottom lip into her teeth, her eyes wondering over your body.

You both share intense eye contact, Hazel staring at you intently as she feels the need to press a kiss to your soft, full lips. You widely smile at her before leaning in, as she does the same. However, you slightly turn your head to the right forcing her to kiss your cheek instead, which makes you giggle at your childish antics.

You pull back only to see a frustrated Hazel, seeing her eyes darken. She shakes her head as she speaks, “you think you’re so fuckin’ funny, huh?” She questions, first Brody, now this?

You nod your head several times, finding it all amusing before bringing your hand up to her face to push a loose strand of dark brunette hair behind her ear.

She pulls you closer to her, her lips barely brushing against yours before she starts dragging them over your cheek, moving towards your ear.

She presses a soft kiss onto your jaw, slowly lining more closer to your chin before she moves to the other side of your face, taking her sweet time with you.

Hazel then removes her hand, cupping your jaw, moving her lips down to your neck. As she presses butterfly kisses onto your skin. She manages to suck on you harder in certain areas causing delicate moans to slip past your lips.

Hazel loves marking you up, she enjoys the thought of everyone knowing you’re hers and only hers. She thrives on the idea of everyone knowing her lips are the ones running along your skin, claiming you and taking you as hers to keep. But for a while you didn't allow her because of the relationship. Something about her just made you melt and not even care.

You can feel your cunt getting damper with the arousal that drips from your pussy the more Hazl sucks into your skin. You just barely grind your hips into hers which ends up getting you a groan of approval from her.

“You like denying my kisses?” She questions, placing one last kiss on you before pulling back, desire and lust looming in her eyes.

This time, you shake your head, “no, ‘m sorry.” You mumble, letting a soft cry out as Hazel fingers dig into one of your hips, surely leaving bruises in their wake.

The one hand that she is using to cup your jaw pulls your chin down towards her, her lips hovering over yours. “Sorry, hm?” Her soft puffs brush along your top lip as she looks into your eyes, tension consuming the entirety of the car.

She guides your face with her large hand seconds later, pulling you in so her plump lips meet yours. The kiss starts off softer, both of your mouths moving in sync as they perfectly mold together. Hazel's tongue quickly swipes over your bottom lip, asking permission for entrance as she always does.

You immediately grant her access as you open your mouth more, her pink muscle easily slipping through to meet yours. The kiss begins to pick up as your tongues swirl together in harmony, Hazel completely dominating the kiss.

Your hands find their way around to the back of her head, your fingers threading her thick hair through them as you slightly tug on it.

Hazel slightly moans into the kiss as she bucks her hips up into you. Her simple action bumps into your open swollen pussy, which sends a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You pull back to speak, “please.” You mutter, before pushing your lips back against Hazel.

The kiss has now done a complete 180, it slowly dwindling, falling apart as it becomes more messy and sloppy. You find it hard to keep up with the movement the more you grind yourself on Hazel.

“What do you want?” Hazel questions, mumbling into this kiss. As she does so, her hands find the inside of your thighs

You whine in desperation, but also annoyance because you know she already knows what you want. She litters multiple kisses along your cheek and jaw as she waits for you to speak.

“Be a big girl and use your words.” She demands, using her hands to tug at the hem of your shirt, asking if she’s allowed to take it off.

You immediately nod, not wasting any time as you help her pull the thin material off of yourself.

As soon as the shirt falls to the ground beside your pants your nipples harden at the cool air brushing past you, sending shivers down your spine. Hazel's eyes find your bare chest, her eyes raking your entire body up and down. Fuck, how she loves your body and everything about it. the freckles and moles that are now exposed and the soon-to-be bruises sprinkled on like salt and pepper.

A small smirk is brought to her lips as she leans forward a bit, “fuckin’ perfect.” Her pupils seem to be further dilated, her beautiful blue eyes casted over by lust.

Her needy hands grab at your tits before she takes one of your nipples in between her lips. She sucks on you softly, emitting a moan from your mouth as you throw your head back in pleasure. She grazes her teeth against you, pulling at you a bit, letting you go with a ‘pop’ before moving to the other.

Her fingers circle her salvia around your nipple, rolling it in between her fingers as she licks and sucks at the other, her hand gently massaging the tit her mouth is focusing on. The need that Hazel has to make you feel good takes over her entire brain, it’s all she can think about day in and day out. The idea of seeing you a breathless and moaning mess due to the reasons of her hands leaves her enthused, hungry for more.

This time she bites into you a bit harsher before pulling back, “answer me.” Her eyes peering up at you through her long, thick eyelashes.

“I want you” You whisper, your cheeks warm as you feel empowered under her burning gaze.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You nod eagerly, dragging your fingertips over her shoulders, then next her collarbones.

“I want you to use me, ride my thigh, and cum all over me.” She whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth before she leans back.

You bite into your bottom lip, trying to conceal the smile that threatens to take over your face. You begin to move to be on top of Hazel's clothed thigh, gently rocking your hips on top of her thigh, your clit feeling pressure from Hazel's muscled leg.

She pushes herself further into the chair you both are sitting on, man spreading as she props her elbows up on the sides of the car, watching you intently.

Hazel looks at you as if you’re the best thing to roam these lands, like you were an angel brought down to earth, carved and chiseled from the gods above. She worships the fucking ground you walk on like nobody else. She’s obsessed with you, even more so when she has this pretty little sight in front of her. She's practically drooling over you, and you're still focused on that bonehead who wouldn't even make you moan half the time compared to her.

With her low, hooded eyes staring at you, you feel a bit nervous but you also feel confident and content. You always feel comfortable around Hazel, there’s never a time you haven’t. Not even thinking about the possibility of people seeing you at this instance.

You try to suppress your moans as you slowly pick up your pace, bending over a bit to grab onto Hazel's broad shoulders in order to keep your balance.

Hazel brings one of her hands to your thighs before sliding it closer to your ass. She first gropes at your soft skin, then harshly leaves a slap causing you to yelp out. Feeling the cold metal of her silver-adorned hand.

You both let out a moan, “fuck, angel, you’re soaking.” She states, her eyes watching the way your hot, wet cunt runs so smoothly along her thigh.

“Feels s’good.” You vocalize, your hands moving up to your tits as you play with them in front of her, sensually moving your hips back in forth in a way that makes Hazel go feral.

She shakes her head with a smirk, “my pretty girl putting on a little show for me?” She questions, trying her best to keep her hands to herself, although she’s finding it almost impossible as she continues to yearn for the feeling of your skin under hers.

Hazel's eyes continuously fluctuate in between your own, your tits, and your pussy using her to get off. Her own arousal beginning to dampen her boxers. Just watching you could cause Hazel to completely fall apart.

After a while of her letting you do your thing, allowing yourself to build up an orgasm, that fiery feeling burning deep in the pit of your stomach, just on the brink of falling over, you find yourself losing your pace.

“F-Fuck, Hazel. I’m gonna cum.” You whine, desperately chasing after your orgasm as you use Hazel for your own personal high.

“Yeah, baby? Gonna make a mess all over me?” She tilts her head, running her tongue along her cheek as she watches you begin to experience your orgasm, you simply nodding your head in response. "Fuck I bet Brody doesn't make you scream this loud"

Hazel moves one of her hands, pressing a thumb closer to the top of your clit for more stimulation. You let out a loud moan, searching your brain for words to help you process the pleasure radiating through your body.

“You like that?” She questions, already knowing the answer, cockiness swarming her attitude.

You can only let out a string of whines and whimpers, any words only coming out as a stammer. You slowly fall apart in front of her, your body getting weaker the faster she moves her finger against you.

“Listen to yourself whimper.” Hazel grins, “its fucking pathetic.” The blue eyed girl whispers, although she knows you could do anything to her and she’d melt in your hands.

“P-Please.” You meekly whine, continuing to move your hips back and forth on top of her. slowly leaning your exposed chest to your clothed one.

“C’mon, baby, cum for me.” Her soft voice guides you, finally pushing you over as your orgasm crashes into you.

It takes over every one of your senses and washes over you like a tsunami, crashing into you hard. Your vision turns white as your body spasms on top of Hazel, your cum rolling down her thigh as you make a complete mess on her.

“Fuck, sweet girl.” She groans, finally pulling her hand back as she stares at your arousal coating her thigh.

You let out breath, your body relaxing into hers, a layer of sweat sticking to your skin. You look down yourself, feeling a bit embarrassed as the orgasm fades away.

Hazel can sense that as she lifts your chin, forcing you to look at her, a reassuring look lingering in her eyes. She never wants you to be ashamed, she wants you to feel good. Always.

"that was hot" you say tucking your bottom lip between your top lip. Hazel eagerly grabs your phone to take a picture of the two of you fucked out, your bare shoulders exposed, and your messy tangled hair. quickly sending it to Brody

"Whoops my finger slipped," Hazel says earning a punch and a giggle from you

you quickly get a message from PJ and Josie of a picture of Hazel's car from the outside showing the steamy windows, paired with a message woah hazel gets action?

which made Hazel laugh and take a picture of the car from the inside of you and her kissing accompanied with her action ;p which made the phone actually overheat by the mass amount of messages from both parties. at one point you could hear the screams and jumps from outside the car

---

Hazel Callahan x reader (pretty sure if i don't add that it won't pop up on the tag :c)

taglist: @shaddyluvs @why-cant-we-all-get-along

[billybob598]

More Than You Know (Leah Williamson x Reader)

All right! So this is a F1 reader x Leah fic requested by anon. Again any feedback good or bad is welcomed! I'm sorry if there's lots of f1 talk and some don't get it. I have another f1 fic coming up but other than that nothing else so, if people want to start sending me requests, please do! I'll get more into that later. Anyways, enjoy!

Word Count: 2.1K (That's what Docs said anyways)

Set at Abu Dhabi GP, end of 2023

Thursday

“Hello everyone, and welcome to the final press conference of the 2023 Formula 1 season.” You fix your shirt as you settle into the seat. Max Verstappen, your teammate, on your left with Charles Leclerc beside him.

“Question for Y/N and Max, heading into the final race of the season the title battle is close between the two of you. What kind of mindset do you have for one of the most important races in your career?”

“To win,” Max says simply. All the reporters let out a laugh as you crack a smile.

“Y/N?” The guy who asked the question prompts you.

“Uh, well, I mean for sure to win is the goal but, trying to just stay calm and do what I’ve done for the last twenty-two races,” you explain. After a few more minutes of questions, they let you go. Walking through the paddock and into the Red Bull garage you can’t help but let your mind spiral. This was your first championship battle, this was Max’s third. You were only 22 years old, if you won on Sunday you’d be the youngest-ever F1 champion and the first-ever female champion. You knew you had to be a little lucky on race day, considering you sat five points behind Max. 

Entering your driver room you’re met with your girlfriend, Leah Williamson.

“Hey babe, what are you doing now?” She asks you, watching as you pace back and forth across the room.

“Track walk, I think.” 

“Okay, well I’m going to meet up with Alex in a couple of minutes so, I’ll see you later, yeah?” She presses a small kiss on your forehead. 

“Okay, yeah, see you later,” 

Friday

You loved racing around Yas Marina Circuit, it had just the right amount of technical corners and overtaking opportunities. You loved the lights and going underneath the hotel. Probably the worst part of it though, was the heat. Sitting in your car you feel like you’re going to die from the heat. Sweat just keeps pouring from every pore on your body, making your race suit damp. At the end of Free Practice 2 you were the fastest overall. This gives you a little bit of confidence, your race pace also seemed to be pretty strong so these were all good signs. Leah watches as you take your crash helmet and balaclava off, trying your best to fix your sweaty hair. You looked hot, and Leah was living for it.

“You’re drooling,” Alex, who happened to be right beside her, said. Leah shakes out of her trance enough to give Alex a light slap on the shoulder. 

“Whatever mate, if you had a girlfriend as hot as mine you’d be drooling as well.”

A couple of hours later, after all the media was done and the sponsor dinner was finished, you and Leah finally were able to settle into bed. Leah’s arm draped over you and her head nuzzled into your neck. She was just about to doze off when you spoke very quietly into the darkness,

“Would you be mad at me if I didn’t win?” Of course, Leah knew you were nervous, who in their right mind wouldn’t be? But, for you to think that she would be angry with you if you finished second? That was terrible.

“Of course not, love, I’d be sad for you, sure, but mad? Never.” This seems to calm you down a bit, and soon enough you both are sleeping soundly.

Saturday

“Good luck kiss?”  Your favourite blonde questions. It was a tradition in your relationship, whenever either of you were participating in a sporting event you had to make sure you kissed just before it started. 

“Of course,”  you say with a smile, not that she can see it. Your helmet already on with your visor up so she can see your eyes. Leah kisses where she imagines your lips are, you can’t help the dopey smile that comes across your face, the squint of your eyes making it obvious what you’re doing.

Leah watches on as your car pulls out of the garage and onto the track. After making it through both Q1 and Q2 easily now comes the biggest test, the top 10 shootout. Your banker lap for Q3 is solid, only six-hundredths of Max’s time and you know you can improve. As you cross the line to start your second flying lap you feel the adrenaline rush through your veins. Every turn of the steering wheel, every push of the pedals, and every G against your body feels just right. Heading into the final sector you know you’re going faster than your first lap. Crossing the line, your entire body relaxes as you hear your engineer over the radio,

“Okay mate, that’s P1 so far, P1 so far, but Max is yet to cross the line.” You wait anxiously for Max to finish his lap. Leah feels her heart sink as she sees Max’s name move above yours on the timing screen. 

“For fuck’s sake, fuck this shit, honestly,” you say over the radio.

“It’s okay Y/N, points come tomorrow,” your engineer replies.

“You’re right, you’re right, let’s get them tomorrow.”

Leah gives you a hug when she finally sees you after all the media and post-qualifying traditions.

“You did great love, don’t be too hard on yourself,” she says sweetly. You sigh, knowing she is right.

“Mhm, I’m not that happy but I’ll get over it. I think right now all I wanna do is go back to the hotel and cuddle with you,” you mutter with a little pout. Leah finds this adorable. So, when you guys do get back to the hotel she cuddles with you until you fall asleep, only hours before one of the most important races of your life.

Sunday

When you wake up you feel the nerves settle inside of you. Leah tried her best to get you to eat something before your race. Abu Dhabi was a night race so, you still had the whole day ahead of you. After going through the pre-race meetings with your engineers you feel pretty confident in the strategy for today. As you walk around the grid with the music in your headphones blasting you see your girlfriend walking towards you. Slipping one side of your ear so you can hear, you give her a questioning look. She never usually comes onto the grid before races, why would she now? 

“I just wanted to wish you good luck,” Leah says kindly, “I know you’re nervous, but don’t be, you’re gonna smash it out there.” Your heart melts at her consideration.

“Thanks Lee, I’ll do you proud I swear,” you say, looking at her with what can only be described as heart-eyes. 

“You already have, more than you know,” she smiles at you, giving one last kiss on your lips before heading back to the garage.

A couple of minutes later, you’re sitting inside your car mentally preparing yourself for the race. The entire formation lap your mind is blank, trying your best to not overthink. As you park in your grid slot as close to a billion people watch with their breaths held.

“And it’s lights out and away we go for the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix!” Crofty exclaims into his microphone.

You get a good start drawing alongside Max heading into the first corner, but he pushes you wide. As the pair of you continue to the first of two long straights, you follow closely behind him gaining a slipstream. When you enter the braking zone you decide to go for a dive bomb, getting your elbows out a little to barge past your teammate and take the lead. 

“She can’t fucking do that, mate. She pushed me off the track,” Max voices to GP.

“If Max has a problem with that, then he can cry in a crib, that was clean.”

As the race gets past halfway done, both you and Max had made pit stops, while also exchanging the lead of the race multiple times. Leah had about chewed her entire nail off watching. She was nervous as hell, she could feel something bad about to happen, she just knew it in her gut. 

You once again closed up to the rear end of Max with DRS. As you got close enough to pass you slightly jerked out to the left before cutting back to the right, effectively dummying him. You were on the outside heading into the sweeping left-hander of Turn 9, you tried your best to give him space, but he completely misses the apex and rams into your front wheel/side of your car. Your neck whips to the side as you try to keep control of your car. 

“What the fuck was that?! What a fucking idiot, I gave him shitloads of space! Is there any damage on the car?” You are pretty much yelling into the radio. The anger you’re feeling showing through your choice of words.

“So, major front wing damage we are going to have to box. Box, box.” Swearing under your breath you pull into the pit lane for new tyres and a new front wing. Stopping on your marks you sit there for what feels like forever before finally getting the green light and getting back on track. Leah knows you are fuming but she also knows that you’re very good at turning that anger into motivation. She readies herself for a wild end to the race.

“Okay, so the gap to Max is 30 seconds.”

“Just leave me alone, I know what to do,” you say sternly.

For the next 24 laps, you put in of the most impressive comebacks in F1 history. Closing the gap a little bit each lap. You fully catch up to him on the final lap of the race. The entire world sits on the edge of their seat as you stick right up to Max’s gearbox for the majority of the lap. Entering the final sector, you find the gap to stick your nose down. Making an unorthodox move down the inside into Turn 12. When it becomes clear that you stuck the move your side of the garage goes crazy. Leah screams, thinking it is too good to be true. As you head around the final corner, the Red Bull mechanics hang off the side of the fence cheering and yelling as you cross the finish line. 

“She’s redefined motorsport as we know it, and as she crosses the line Y/N Y/L/N is CHAMPION OF THE WORLD!” Crofty shouts. 

“AAAHHHH OH MY GODDDD! YESSS GUYS COME ON! I’M GONNA FUCKING CRY!” You scream over the radio. 

“YOU” VE DONE IT MATE! YOU’VE DONE IT! GOOD LORD!” Your engineer screams back at you. You start to cry as you go around for your celebration lap. When you park in front of the number 1 sign you take a minute inside of your car to collect your thoughts. Finally, you get out and stand on top of the car, raising your arms in celebration. You jump down and start sprinting to your team. After receiving multiple hugs and slaps on the back, mixed with a varying range of screams and yells, you decide to look for your girlfriend. Looking around you spot your favourite person on Earth and make a beeline for her. She pulls you into a bone-crunching hug, tears streaming down her face. 

“I’m so fucking proud of you, more than you know,” she says tearfully. You give her an award-winning smile before moving to take your helmet and balaclava off. You surprise Leah when you connect your lips in front of God knows how many cameras. 

“I’m a World Champion Lee, a World Champion.”

“I know Y/N, I know,” she giggles at how excited you look. After completing the post-race interview you make your way to the podium.

“And your Abu Dhabi Grand Prix winner and 2023 World Champion, Y/N Y/L/N!” 

The crowd and paddock below you roar as you make your way onto the podium, pumping your fists with joy. Stepping onto the top step of the podium, a sense of relief washes over you, everything you’d worked for this entire season, your entire life basically, had finally paid off. You take your cap off when your national anthem plays and begin to scan through the crowd until you meet blue ones. You give her a grin and blow her a kiss. She returns it. When you are finally handed your first-place trophy you raise it high with a little yell. After the rest of the podium is handed their trophies, you get to your favourite part, the champagne. Spraying it in every possible place, you can’t stop the stupid-looking smile from taking over your facial features. When the celebrations seem to die down a little you look over at Leah, mouthing,

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” she mouths back.

“More than you know.”

[coconutcordiale]

up to no good 

pairing- bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x female pilot!reader (callsign clutch) no use of y/n

an- my first fanfic ever! and it's just filth (lol) so 18+ minors DNI. top gun has a hold on me y'all. haven't even opened a word doc since college but the entire film basically lives rent free in my head and I had to write some obscene rooster so I could get back to functioning like a normal person. anyways *nervous sweating*

warning- seriously 18+, not beta’d, swearing, pwp (dogfight football is just an excuse for foreplay they knew what they were doing with that damn scene), unprotected sex, choking, edging, orgasm delay/denial, overstimulation, dom!rooster, oral (f receiving), rank kink if you squint, bruises, praise kink, dumbification, rooster is a leg man fight me, mentioning hangman during sex (yes this is a warning because jake seresin is sinful), the whole nine honestly I can't believe I'm posting this

length- 3.3k ish words

You silently curse Maverick for introducing the team to dogfight football as everyone trudges down towards the beach. Now, instead of working on your tan or napping on the beach for your one and only day off, you're being forced into athletic competition masquerading as a fun beach game. You like working out as much as the next pilot, but with one day off? You’d much rather spend it horizontal with your boyfriend than sprinting after him in the sand. Your gorgeous, half-naked boyfriend who's currently smoothing out his mustache in annoyance while he argues with Hangman about how they’ll split up the teams. You’re not sure who decided to make these two idiots team captains, but suspect it was born out of making sure they wouldn’t kill each other on the same team.

Rooster ends up choosing first, much to Hangman’s chagrin. 

“Payback.”

“Wow,” you joke, your hand over your wounded heart for theatrics. “I see where your loyalties lie, babe.”

“Don’t be mad,” Rooster smiles into your hair before kissing your temple.

Pulling you into his side by the waist, he lightly skims his fingers across the part of your hipbone that always makes you shiver. The part that already has a bruise forming from his unrelenting grip this morning, while you were falling apart on his cock. 

You glare up at him as if to say silently, don't change the subject, and he pointedly looks above your head to Seresin, pretending he’s not having flashbacks of your wanton moans.

“Hangman, go.”

The blonde flashes his signature smirk, stupid mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and reaches out to tug you from Rooster’s grasp, “Clutch, you’re with me.”

It’s surprising, of course. You weren’t actually mad at not being picked first, and definitely didn’t think Hangman of all people would be the one to do so.

“Bro,” Coyote grumbles. “No offense, Clutch, but what the fuck?"

Hangman shrugs in response, trying to maintain his poker face and not laugh out loud at the way Rooster’s jaw clenches. He knows having you on the opposite team is a huge distraction for mustache boy and well, he’d be remiss if he didn’t take advantage of Rooster’s ridiculous misty-eyed love for you, wouldn’t he?

Phoenix and Bob end up with Rooster too while Hangman manages to snag Coyote and Fanboy, punching Coyote in the shoulder for being so grumpy about not being picked first. 

Not long into the game, Rooster has the ball, looking around for an open teammate and you see your opportunity. 

As he knew there were no limits to your competitiveness no matter how much you complained about having to play, Hangman suggested you cover Rooster, so you’re already face to face with his very shirtless, very tanned body. You trail your hand across his abs, barely dipping your fingertips below his waistband. Subtle enough that no one else clocks what you’re up to, too consumed defending each other, but suggestive enough that Rooster’s attention snaps to you immediately.

“What’re you doing?” He asks, eyeing you suspiciously, hands still firmly planted around the ball that’s well out of your reach. 

You flash the most innocent smile you can manage, “Sorry, babe, you just look so good. Couldn’t help myself.”

He beams down at you, completely disarmed and blushing a little despite his best efforts to maintain a healthy level of skepticism. 

“Am I making it hard for my girl to concentrate?” He teases, arms faltering slightly.

“Something like that,” you grin, like the cat that got the cream, before taking advantage of his momentary lapse in judgment to snatch the ball out of his hands, swiftly turning and throwing it straight to Hangman by the makeshift endzone. He sprints through, throwing the ball to the ground in victory.

“And that,” Hangman shouts, practically banging his chest, “is why you’re never stupid enough to pick Clutch second, fellas!”

“Ruthless,” Rooster feigns hurt across his tanned features, fighting a smile at your cheesy finger guns. “Didn’t know we were playing dirty.”

“What, you think this is a fuckin’ game, Bradshaw?” You taunt.

“Oh, it’s on.” 

You know you have to up the ante the next time around, without the element of surprise it’ll be harder to shake him.

You absentmindedly play with the bruise forming on your hipbone before the ball is anywhere near you and you can feel his eyes raking over the spot where your fingers touch. Fighting a smile, you adjust your workout shorts next, tugging them down the inside of your thighs where they’ve ridden up, fingers dancing a little close to your hot center for the public setting, but hey, hopefully no one’s paying attention. Besides, he’s always been a sucker for your legs, evident by how much time he spends between them. By the time he’s done staring and lifts his eyes to yours you’re smirking.

“Bradshaw, my eyes are up here.”

He doesn’t even bother looking ashamed, instead meeting your gaze with that filthy glint in his eyes. It takes everything in you to remain focused on the task at hand. You’re supposed to be sidetracking him, not the other way around.

You manage to sneak around him and catch the ball as Fanboy throws it your way, but you’re a little too far from the endzone to make a break for it without Rooster catching up to you. His dog tags are reflecting in the sunlight, resting against his hard chest and you smile, leaning in to grab them with your free hand.

Pulling him towards you by his chain so you can keep these words between the two of you, you adopt a comically casual tone, “I’ve always wondered what it’d be like if you choked me with these, babe, I mean your big hands are more than enough but—”

“Nope," Rooster cuts you off tersely as he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder before marching in the direction of the parking lot. 

You giggle, arching your back to toss the ball towards the group as best you can while still mostly upside down, and throw them a sloppy two finger salute, “See y’all later.”

“You guys are the worst!” Phoenix shouts after you and everyone yells in agreement. 

He doesn't set you down until you're in the parking lot, immediately pulling you back against his front.

“You’re gonna pay for teasing me like that, princess,” he breathes in your ear, right hand sliding up your chest and to your neck as his left digs for his car keys.

“Oh no,” you drawl sarcastically, “That wasn’t what I was aiming for whatsoever.”

He can’t help but chuckle, even with his hand practically engulfing your throat you’re still playing him like a fiddle, teasing and pushing his buttons until he aches to put you in your place. He knows exactly what you’ve been playing at, but he still can’t help his primal response to it. 

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m gonna wipe that bratty little smirk right off your pretty face.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” you respond cheekily. “Was just admiring my gorgeous boyfriend all day. Always makes me smile, how beautiful he is.”

His fingers tighten almost unconsciously at his rank tumbling out of your delicate lips. And now it’s his turn to smirk, as he hears your breath hitch and feels you grind back onto his growing bulge. He unlocks the car and pulls the passenger side door open with his free hand, turning you around for a searing kiss before picking you up and setting you in his Bronco. He buckles you in, and you roll your eyes at the babying gesture, still in a fiery mood. 

Shooting you a warning look for the eye rolling, Rooster gets in the other side and you begin running your hand up his arm, stopping to appreciate his bicep flexing as he turns the keys in the ignition. It’s almost innocent, really, but he sees right through you. 

“No touching me or yourself until we get home.” 

He bites back a laugh at your pout and settles his hand on your knee as he starts to drive. Which, you find out quickly, is much worse than not being touched at all, although you imagine that’s purposeful. He always knows how to wind you up while barely lifting a finger. You feel his hand burning on your leg, rubbing affectionate circles just south of where you want it. You shift in the passenger seat and the movement subtly urges his hand up your thigh, thinking he won’t notice as his eyes are decidedly fixed on the road.

As soon as he pulls up to a red light, he immediately removes his hand from your thigh to grab your jaw roughly and pull you into a kiss. 

“You have to learn to be patient, baby. Keep trying to rush me and I won’t touch you at all,” he mutters against your lips. “Be a good girl for me.”

Your breathing shallows and you nod, both of you knowing as soon as that phrase comes out, you’re done for. 

You’re crawling out of your skin by the time he pulls up to the house, mind on an endless loop of please touch me, kiss me, please do something, anything. 

“I hope you remember your colors, because if I don’t hear the word red I’m not stopping,” he promises darkly, possessive hand around the back of your neck as he leads you into the house and to the bedroom. 

He all but throws you on the bed, making quick work of your clothes. Stepping back and taking his time with his own while he admires you, naked and squirming for him. He watches patiently as your thighs press together, hands fisting in the comforter. 

What feels like eons later, he settles on the bed, pushing your legs apart to fit his wide frame between them. Peppering kisses up the inside of your thighs, he refuses to put his mouth where you really want it. 

You whimper in frustration and Rooster snickers at your exasperation before licking a stripe up your dripping wet slit. The sound that comes out of your mouth is positively filthy, doubling in volume when he slips one of those thick fingers in without warning. 

“Fuck, baby,” It’s his turn to groan now. “You’re so wet. Surprised you didn’t soak through those tiny little things you call shorts.”

“Thought I was going to, been ready for you all day,” you grit out.

As much as you love his mouth on you, it’s not what you need right now as your cunt is aching to be filled. You untangle your fingers from the comforter to pull him up by the shoulders and attach your lips to his. Reaching down to palm his hard cock, you run your thumb across the slit that’s leaking with precum. He drops his head to your shoulder, panting as his control wavers. 

“Need you in me,” you beg between kisses. “Please.”

You immediately wish you hadn’t said anything when raises his head to look at you, pupils blown but with newfound resolve and a smug grin on his lips. 

“Greedy,” he teases, taking your hands from his cock and lifting your arms above your head.

He easily pins both wrists down with one hand, while the other traces down your body, taking his time palming your tits one by one, touching your hipbones with surprising gentleness, before settling between your legs once more. His fingers slide through your wet folds, pad of his thumb circling your clit and your head falls back against the pillows, body arching at the feeling.

He’s building you up, exactly how he knows you like, your inner walls already beginning to shake with anticipation, clenching around nothing as you get closer to the edge.

And then suddenly, he pulls his fingers away and you want to cry with how quickly you feel your climax disappearing into thin air. 

“You’d let me do anything I wanted to you right now, wouldn’t you baby girl? You’d do anything to get my cock in that needy pussy.”

“Yes sir,” you whine submissively, even surprising yourself at how desperate you sound.

“No more Bradshaw and babe now, huh,” he mocks your cheeky tone from earlier. “Told you I’d fuck that bratty attitude right out of you.”

You wish you had the wherewithal to come up with a witty response about how he hasn’t even fucked you yet and could he get to it already, you really do. But before you can formulate half a thought, he’s finally pushing his thick member into you and no matter how many times the two of you do this you always, always forget how much he stretches you. How each time you wonder if he’s going to fit.

The only indication he gives that he’s as affected by this as you are is that there’s no time to adjust to his size before he’s thrusting, hard and fast and rough. It’s right on the line between pleasure and pain.

The moment he swipes the pad of his thumb over your bundle of nerves again you’re close, embarrassingly close. You feel your body tensing, winding tighter and tighter.

“Please, I’m so close, please let me come.” 

You’re pushing hard against the grip he has on your wrists, to no avail. 

He smiles against your skin, nipping at your neck before bringing his mouth to your ear. 

“No.”

Tears immediately spring to your eyes as he pulls away the hand that was on your clit, slowing his pace to an unbearable speed and you feel your peak slipping farther and farther away.

“Please, Roos—" you start, trying to pull him closer with your legs. 

“You know my name, princess,” he growls, pulling back.

“Bradley,” you moan, the hard edges in his words sending another wave of heat through you. “Sir—plea—I need—harder, faster. Ohmy god, please.” 

You’re barely coherent and the evil part of him wants to push further, to see how long he can keep you like this, if he can make you lose your words completely.

He completely ignores your pleas, releasing your wrists so he can run both his hands down your body, stopping again to rub circles around the bruises on your hipbones.

“You think they’d believe me? If I told everyone how needy you are for me?”

You don’t answer, can’t answer because all you can think is please, harder, more. Instead, you’re gripping his biceps for dear life, mind still reeling from how infuriatingly slow he’s fucking into you.

“The team would never expect strong, hard-headed Clutch could act like this. Putty in my hands, whining and begging for me like a depraved slut.”

A loud moan leaves your mouth at that and he rewards you by picking up the pace, putting his weight behind his thrusts again. You’re staring up at him with glazed eyes, mouth parted and breathy mewls coming out in a constant stream as he continues. 

“Seresin definitely wouldn’t. Can you imagine if I told him how pretty you look fucked out and dumb for my cock? He’d probably think I was lying, thinks you dominate the hell outta me. If only he knew the truth.”

You clench around him involuntarily and he smirks when he sees the blush rising on your cheeks.

“God, I do love having you all to myself, but it seems selfish not to share someone as perfect as you, darlin’.”

You tuck your face in his neck, unable to meet those playful dark eyes. He pulls out and flips you over, pulling your ass into the air and sliding back into you in one smooth motion.

He’s hitting that spot deep inside you, and you shove your face into the pillows to muffle your moans. You feel fingers tangle in your hair, tugging and arching your back as he pulls you up towards his chest, pace unrelenting. Bradley slides that big hand up around to your neck again, finally getting to pound you from behind like he wanted to outside of his Bronco. That seems like days ago, now. His other hand is circling your clit, quickly bringing you right to the brink once more. 

“Come for me, baby, come all over my cock like the little slut you are.”

You feel like a rubber band, pushed to its limits and snapped. White-hot pleasure courses through you, finally releasing all the tension in your body.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me,” Bradley’s breath is hot in your ear. You barely register his praise, still shaking. “Wanna come inside your tight pussy and fill you up.”

You can’t help the obscene noises spilling out of your mouth, even louder than before as he continues to fuck you, relentless, while you try to come down from your high. It’s overwhelming, his thick length pounding your trembling, slick walls. His grip impossibly tight on your hip as he empties in you. The warmth is spreading inside, your walls spasming weakly at the feeling of fullness. He keeps his hands on you as he softens, fingers starting their dance in maddening circles on your overstimulated bundle of nerves.

“S’too much,” you slur, head falling back on his shoulder.

If you weren’t in such a daze you might be impressed on how he’s managed to make it his mission to continue ruining you only moments after his own climax. He’s completely supporting your weight, any sense of self-preservation having left you long ago.

He shifts, pulling out and you try not to whine too loudly at the empty feeling. You momentarily think he’s done with his torture, but then he lays you down on your back and puts his lips right to your center, fingers pushing his cum back inside you as it tries to drip out. 

“No,” he lifts his head to say again, and you hate how that always sends a wave of heat right to your core. “You begged and begged to come. I’m just giving you what you wanted baby."

“Dunno,” you shudder, “if I can take anym—Bradley pleas—”

“You can.” 

There’s no room for disagreement in his tone.

“You’ve been such a good girl. I know you can come again. Just one more and I’ll give you a break.”

He’s making lazy circles with his tongue, his pace the only indication there exists a fiber of mercy in his being.

Your skin feels tight as his praise washes over you. He’s fucking you with his fingers now, curling them while slowly increasing his onslaught on every nerve in your body through his touch to your core. You can’t help but grab his wrist, trying to pull him away from you as he blurs the line between pleasure and pain. You’re shaking uncontrollably and shouting his name, as you come again, sure you’re going to black out. 

“Shh, baby, I got you,” he whispers as you clench around his fingers. He’s kissing your jaw, lips, forehead.

He gently pulls his hand away and wraps his arms around you, holding you through the aftershocks.

“You’re perfect, baby. Did so well for me.”

You smile up at him a few minutes later as he gently puts a water bottle to your lips. Ever the gentleman, you think, even after he’s absolutely wrecked you.

“We have to wash the sheets and comforter,” Rooster complains jokingly, when he’s pretty sure your mind is mostly functioning again. “There’s sand everywhere.”

“Yeah, you should get right on that, Lieutenant,” you mumble, planting your face in his chest. 

He reaches out to tickle your sides lightly, “Maybe this Lieutenant will order you to do it for him.”

“It’s so cute you think you’re in charge,” you yawn, rolling over and settling in, clearly not making a move to get up.

Rooster rolls his eyes, forcing himself not to take the bait this time, instead pulling you tighter. 

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 9 (Part 2 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Covet Masterlist

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

-Horace

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

It had blossomed seemingly out of nowhere. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does he. . .?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

Thank God.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dammit. What the fuck? I’m. . .?

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

You were carrying a human child. 

And you were at your first appointment for it.

Goddamn.

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

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

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

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

Gia would be so proud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything settled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are you still having sex with Jake?

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

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

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

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

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

Also, officially, the mother of his child.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t mean to squawk with a laugh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fucking asked me, bitch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seriously, y/n?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were so close to seeing the truth.

Facing this head on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing. 

Emptiness. Empty stomach.

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

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

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

Thump thump.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thump thump.

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

“Profile looks darn good, placenta is anterior, there’s the umbilical cord. . .,” She spoke as she pointed with her finger to each shape of white that was mixed into the static. “Heartbeat is 160, there’s the bladder and the kidneys, oh!” Dr. Rose exclaimed with a chuckle as she seemed to record a movement. Upon playing it back in front of you, she explained the movement as a little hand with five fingers moved up towards a space by the baby’s nose. “The little angel is wavin' at you, mama,” she looked down at you with a knowing smile. 

Your heart swelled more than you’d ever felt in your entire life. This was . . . otherworldly. Absolutely earth-shattering. There were not any words you could string together that would do this moment justice.

“Wow,” you muttered, voice officially clogged with the tears that relentlessly poured down your cheeks. You sniffled. “It’s. . . moving?”

“Sure is,” she winked. “Has been for a while. You have an especially active little one – already. Prepare for some monster kicks here in a couple months, mama.”

“Wow,” you repeated.

“Gets it from their uncle,”Josh said, sniffling behind you.

You smiled over at him. You felt the joy he did. All around. More. This was your baby. Yours and Jake’s. God.

“Exciting, huh, babe?” She asked knowingly. 

All you could do was nod. You weren’t sure you could stop smiling. . . it was hurting your cheeks, but you welcomed it. This was. . . this was everything. Everything you could have ever wished for.

“I know it, honey bun,” she agreed, her red lips perked with joy for you. “Also, according to the size of the baby and the start date of your last menstrual cycle, I would say you are at right about 12 weeks, little missy.”

Once she’d confirmed the gestational age, you saw her scoot the cart back a bit and wipe the wand she’d used with a sterile wipe, putting it back in its slot. Then, she cleaned your belly of any leftover jelly. You just watched from where you were still leaned back, head resting on one arm behind it. She stripped her gloves and tossed them in the nearest waste bin.

“Twelve weeks. Yep,” you breathed, pulling your shirt down. Your cheeks lifted even more at officially knowing (relatively) how old your little bean was. “Based on my last period.”

“Yes. Because, oddly enough, that is technically when the pregnancy started,” she explained. “On the first date of your last menstrual cycle.”

Dr. Rose went to grab a packet, a pamphlet, and a few free-flying papers, all paper-clipped together, from the counter. You sat up as she clicked her way back to you on her stilettos. She kept talking as she handed them to you. “I don’t wanna clog up our time today with all of the technicalities – unless that’s what ya want?” She offered. 

You shook your head no. Today, all you’d come in wanting to know was that your baby was alive. And you knew that now. And fuck, it felt nice. Better than. 

Except . . .

“Is the baby healthy?” You asked worriedly, needing to hear her tell you.

“Positively. One hundred percent, mama,” she confirmed, her teeth sparkling behind her red lips. “From what I could see on the scan, you’ve got a perfectly healthy baby squirmin’ around in there.”

You internally and externally let out a sigh of relief that had needed released for a fat second. The baby was okay. Healthy. Moving. Alive. 

Everything was going to be alright.

You looked down at Josh, his face glowing, cheeks glistening with tears. “I’m so proud of you,” he choked. 

Another tear slipped down his cheek as you felt one well in your eye. You didn’t know why he was proud of you, but the words made your emotions spike. You were proud of the little life inside of you. . . already doing its best to live its best life.

“Back to what I was sayin’ before,” Dr. Rose went on. Your eyes found her, clicking off the machine. “In that paperwork you’ll find all of the technicalities and logistics about the pregnancy. Which vitamins you should take. Prenatals our clinic suggests. Recommended foods to eat. The baby’s size week by week. When I say everything, sweetie, I mean ev-er-ything,” she emphasized in her twang. “You can find the same information on our clinic’s website. There is a help tab on there for our mothers-to-be, but I always provide physical copies for my girls. I also recommend downloading at least one pregnancy tracker app to get notified with updates – it’s just convenient and fun.”

“I downloaded one recently, actually. It’s been amazing. Thank you for everything,” you weakly offered. You also had to know. . . “Will you be the one delivering the baby?”

“Sure thing,” she affirmed. “With ya till ya want rid of me. Speaking of that day, our partnering hospital is Cedars-Sinai, so that is where you’ll end up having the baby,” she paused, bringing her eyes to you. “Since you indicated on the form that you would prefer a planned hospital birth over a planned home birth.”

“Correct. Hospital birth for me,” you affirmed.

“Now, we are going to schedule your next appointment for four weeks from now,” she continued, opening her tablet and typing out the information for her calendar, presumably. “How does December 8th sound, honey bun?”

You didn’t check your calendar, because you would make that day okay. Anything you needed to do to make it happen. “Sounds perfect,” you replied, practically jittering with excitement for the next one. “When will I find out the gender?”

“I always have my girls wait until week 18,” she responded, turning buttons off on the machine before scooting it back where it had started. “So, when you come in for your next appointment, we will actually have ya schedule an extra lil appointment in there to see what our little buddy is in there.”

“Got it,” you told her. 

“Your sonogram pictures will be waitin’ at the front desk for ya,” she said, washing her hands. Then, after she dried them, she grabbed her laptop. “And finally, your due date is–at this point, according to what we know–May 23rd.”

The date was suddenly the most important you’d ever heard. 

It was the day you now felt you’d been waiting for your entire life.

Without ever knowing it. 

This baby was already changing your heart for the better and everyday, it seemed like all the little (alive and moving) bundle of hope did was bring you unadulterated joy. 

The most precious gift that you’d made with someone so precious to you.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Once you’d finished the appointment, Josh had asked if you had any plans. And when you’d said no, he ended up driving you both to a cute little cafe he'd heard about in SoHo. A place that, even from the outside, oozed with a charming aesthetic. 

The two of you sat there, pointing out every single detail of the sonogram pictures, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the tiny feet, tiny hands, and the itty bitty, adorable body that belonged to your baby. . . You had never seen something so beautiful. You were sure of it.

And after that, you’d taken some time to catch up. You’d talked about him and Elsie, Elsie and her travels, and the fact that you’d started going to therapy. (Next to the baby, he was most excited about this.)

All you’d ordered was a Sprite since you weren’t feeling the most hungry as of late. Josh had followed in your lead and only ordered drinks as well. Honey tea and a glass of water. He’d made sure to tell the waitress to grab you a water, too. 

And after a quick trip to the bathroom to relieve your ever-aching bladder, you were back at the table. 

Back at a table where Josh was giving you a look. His eyes were narrowed, a mischievous grin turning his lips up to show a dimple in his cheek.

Just as you’d sat down, the waitress was bringing Josh a new, piping hot tea, since he'd (apparently) already finished the first. 

And then, as soon as she was gone, he was talking.

“I sort of had a weird inkling of something going on. . .,” Josh noted as he stirred, then took a long swig of his tea, steam still emitting from the top. “Goddammit!” He gasped, a pained expression painting his features, as he coughed over the warm temperature of the beverage. “Hot hot hot hot,” he repeated to himself, finding his ice water and taking an even longer swig.

You couldn’t help the burst of laughter that bloomed in your chest, flying past your lips as he continued to down the water. All you got in response was him flipping you off with one long digit, and a wrinkle, knitting his brow.

The sinking feeling in your stomach couldn’t be ignored, though. . . you’d heard what he initially said. How had he known? God. . . how long? Your mind was a frenzy as you forced yourself to stop laughing to focus on the serious subject matter at hand.

“How?”

“Well, y/n,” he replied smartly, motioning to the cup. “It just came from the pot, I’m sure. Don’t you see the damned thing is steaming? Why did I even take a–?”

“No,” you stopped his rambling to clarify your question. “How did you . . .? Did you seriously know?” As you were still air-quoting the last few words, he was already nodding his head to answer you. “How? Why? What did we do wrong? I-I mean- God. Do Sam and Danny know, too?”

“Now, I didn’t say I knew,” he corrected you, feeling at the sides of the mug to test the temperature. And, yet again, he was met with the scorching temperature, thus hissing and placing his hands around the plastic of the water cup. “In essence, I said I had an idea. And you didn’t do anything wrong. I just– he’s my fucking twin, y/n,” he set you with a stare that said ‘Remember?! Can’t fool me!’, before he continued. “And where you’re concerned. . . I know you very well. You’ve been my best friend for several years. . ." he reminded you. "Oh, and I’m also a fucking empath. Which you, my dear, were the first one to ever point out my empathic tendencies. . .,” he winked at you with a grin on his full lips. “You should’ve known you couldn’t keep that shit from me. Not without me getting suspicious as hell.”

“Are you mad?”

He stuck his lip out, looking down at the tea, running his finger tip along the rim of the mug before he wrapped his hands around it again. Apparently not at a burning temperature anymore, he decided to bring the cup up to his lips, pinky up as he gripped the handle. This time, he closed his eyes in relief at the taste of the honeyed tea on his tongue. When he placed it back down, he continued watching it, lips still pushed out in a pout as he shook his head, brow wrinkled.

“Nah,” was all he supplied, his eyes hyper focused on the white ceramic mug.

Of course, you were not convinced. “Josh. Look at me.”

When his eyes slowly slid up to find yours, you found at least one reason he hadn’t been looking at you. There were wet pools accumulating in the ducts of his deep brown eyes. He breathed in deeply, his chest expanding with the giant breath before he blew it out, a lone tear making its way down his cheek. 

“I–,” he started, shaking his head and messing with the front of his curly mop of hair. He dropped his hand to tap against the table. “It’s not that I’m mad. It’s really hard to make me mad. I’m more mad at Jake. He makes me mad very easily when he wants. Because I know he can do better. . . Like starting this with you and not having the balls to see it through and leaving you with a baby in your belly.” It was as if the steam had been transferred from his cup to his ears, his nostrils were flaring as he shook his head and squinted his eyes shut. 

Damn, he and Jake look very similar when they get angry, you suddenly discovered.

“And now, he’s just been fucking Maya while you’ve had to deal with–.”

The tears came instantly. Your vision was blurry before you were even able to process that the tears were there. 

“Oh my god, y/n. I’m so– fuck. I’m sorry,” Josh tried, his tone willing you to hear him out. 

You blinked furiously, covering your eyes with one hand. But, finding it useless to try to hide the tears, you just let them fall freely as you now took deep breaths, your eyes piercing through the window of the cafe. “Can we please not–?”

“Y-yeah, Goddammit,” he nervously fluffed the front of his hair. “Y/n, please look at me.”

Forcing your eyes away from the clear autumn sky, you found his eyes, earnestly begging for you to listen to him. “He wasn’t– he hasn’t– I don’t–,” he growled under his breath, reaching forward for your hand. Which you only stared at until he spoke next. “Please, just take my hand.”

So, you did as he asked and looked at him with desperately sad eyes. 

He watched you carefully for a few minutes, letting the tears leave as he reassured you and apologized a couple more times. 

He cleared his throat, blinking his eyes a few times before apparently deciding on a new conversation. “When did you guys begin. . .?”

You knew he was asking when you’d started fucking his brother. But he obviously wasn’t going to say it. 

Nice turn in conversation, Josh.

“It’s complicated,” you offered wetly, not in the mood to talk.

He hummed, before raising a brow with searching eyes. He was trying to get through to you. “Was it that night at Baby’s All Right?”

How the fuck did he know that–?

But, like you said, it was more complicated–because, no, it really didn’t start at Baby’s. 

“Technically," you sniffled, swiping a finger, then a thumb under both of your eyes. "It started before and after that night. It was a long, drawn out thing that shouldn’t have ever started.”

Instantly, you felt guilty. 

The words felt wrong to say. . .the first thing coming to your mind – the baby. 

If it hadn’t started, you wouldn’t have the baby. The sweet little bean in your belly with a beautiful, beating heart. You placed a steady hand against your tummy to make up for the harsh words. 

And the second thing. . . you couldn’t begin to imagine never getting to be that close to Jake. . . you were grateful it had started. . . But you also hated yourself for ever letting yourself get so tied up in Jake Kiszka.

Figuratively and literally. God. Stupid.

“Yes, it should have,” he affirmed, your eyes flickering to him. “For my niece or nephew alone.”

“You’re right,” you agreed, eyes filling with more tears at the conversation and the spiraling thoughts in your mind. “But, I guess, if we are getting technical. . .," you sniffed. "It started that night he left the venue so pissed and you were equally as pissed with him.”

He seemed to think on that for a second or two, trying to go back to the night to which you were referring. Once he finally found it, his eyes lit up with a twitch on his lips. 

“He was mad that night,” he remembered, his hand squeezing yours. You decided to pull yours away from his as you felt it beginning to perspire. Wiped them on your pants, waiting for him to continue. “And now I know why. You weren’t there.”

“Essentially, yes,” you confirmed with a tilt of your head. You couldn't help but snicker with the next part. “It started when I got home.”

Josh’s lips stretched to the point that his eyes bulged and his cheeks puffed out. He blew out a breath while his eyes stayed huge. “And that is all I need to know about that night.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his expression and his words, to which he lightened with you, falling into a soft moment of laughter alongside you. 

When the humor died down, he took the initiative to speak. And you let him. You really weren’t feeling like talking. The smells of the cafe, for one, were starting to make your stomach turn. “I could’ve guessed that it started around that time,” he began. You quirked a brow, asking him to explain further. “He . . . he changed around that time.” You didn’t speak, which told him to continue. “You see, when he first got to New York, he was so fucking surly and rude. He wasn’t just like that with you, mama. He was short as hell with me, too. And the other guys got his bad side – especially Sammy. His heart was broken and he didn’t know how to handle his shit. He started coming back into himself around that time, though. . .Middle of summer. He sort of peaked around the middle of summer. And if I am doing the math right. . . that is when it was happening?”

You nodded an affirmation, impressed by the quick math. 

“Yeah, he was Jake again,” he expressed, eyes tearing up again. “He was joyful for the first time in years. I hadn’t seen him act so freely and fun since before he and Amelia started dating. There was always something stopping him when he was with her – she was stopping him. But you. . . you must’ve encouraged him to be himself. You didn’t turn down the challenge. You took a chance on my brother.”

After considering the words, the lightbulb appeared above your head. That conversation the day in the record shop. The same day you’d played over and over again to convince yourself out of being with Jake. You’d focused on the other words so much that you’d forgotten all about the positive things–the possibilities that had been discussed that day.

You remembered it now. You'd been talking about high school. And how Jake had sort of decided to fuck all when Josh hadn't. . . and it had turned into you bringing up your love of a challenge. 

Josh had nodded, lips turned down, his eyes still holding a little glint. “Yup. Get my point now?”

“Yeah, but like I just said, I’m not one to turn down a challenge. Just like you, Josh. And your brother. . .I’ve learned he is nothing if not a challenge.” 

He had nodded, knowing you were right. And he’d known you long enough to know that you did indeed enjoy overcoming any problem life may hand you.

God, what had happened to you? Where had the desire to accomplish challenges gone?

Why had you given up? Had you given him up? Or had you simply been done with that challenge? Had Jake just been ready to fly? Had you done what was best?

But, you sidelined those thoughts and decided there were more important matters at hand. Like Josh telling you more about how he was feeling.

“So. . . you’re not hurt?” You asked, your voice hoarse from not talking. You cleared it, and tried again. “You’re not hurt?”

“A little, I guess,” he nodded, eyes studying you.

“That’s fair,” you encouraged – glad he was sharing his heart. “I’m sorry for not telling you. But I just kept hearing your voice in my head–that same day we talked about challenges– that same day you’d told me something and it repeated itself over and over to the point that I tried to resist things happening with Jake. Mostly for you, Josh. I didn’t want to betray you. Didn't want him to betray his dreams. But then it just became something bigger that I couldn’t control. It was . . . different than anything else I’ve ever experienced. I couldn’t stop it from happening.”

“Did you want to stop it?”

“I tried to convince myself that I wanted to . . . but I never did. Not really. I wanted him the whole time, but I felt wrong for it. I was totally disregarding what you’d said to me. . . Going against your wishes for him.”

His eyes got big as he took another sip of his tea, that at this point, was probably lukewarm. But if it was, his face didn’t show it. He licked at his lips and peered at you pensively, curiously. “God, y/n. I’m sorry. What did I even say? I don’t remember,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I hate that my words have been just fuckin’ tormenting you, mama. I’m so sorry.”

“No,” you said, pointing your finger at him, your eyes serious to communicate your point. “You don’t be sorry. I’m the one who was in the wrong. Not even Jake, necessarily,” you included the last part, just on Jake’s behalf. “I was the one who did it even after you’d confided in me that you were happy Jake was getting to live life for himself for the first time – without having to worry about being hung up on a girl. And, then I just let myself be that girl you didn’t want for him – I was the girl to get in his way while he should’ve been living for himself.”

“In the spirit of fairness, though, I told him that he needed to take a break from women. He didn’t listen to me either. Well, sort of. . . he actually did follow my advice, I guess,” he encouraged, his eyes searching yours. “Because I also told him that I wanted him to think of what he wanted first.” His tone lifted as he winked at you. 

Your brow wrinkled . . . what was he trying to say? 

He continued, “Which, I guess, my dear, after the dream . . . was you.”

Feeling suddenly lightheaded and loopy with Josh’s words, you let them settle for a minute or two before saying anything more. 

And, the waitress had perfect timing. She filled the open air by asking if you needed anything. First time she’d been back in a hot damn second. Josh asked for a new tea, and you asked for another glass of Sprite. 

All that you could think in that moment was that you really had been the opposite of the right thing for Jake. So, you decided to speak your mind.

“But. . . no,” you declined his words, shaking your head. “No, Josh. He didn’t put himself first – he had a woman – me – that he was focused on instead of learning himself.”

He took a bit to consider your words, his eyes squinted at you as he pursed his lips. The waitress came back to the table as the conversation lulled for his response. 

As soon as she left, though, the two of you were back to it.

“Y/n,” he began, his lips growing into a sure smile. His hands came to clasp in front of him, his hair bouncing with each disbelieving shake of his head. “He did. He moved here. He started pursuing the dream. He got a job he loved by teaching lessons.” Thus meeting Maya, you snarkily thought. “He did put himself first. Did all of that, and then he pursued you.”

. . . you hadn’t really thought of it that way. Not once had you considered that. 

God. What if you’d told Josh a long time ago? Chances were, he would’ve eased your fears and worries. . . but instead, you’d assumed he’d think the worst and let your thoughts derail. 

Would you even be in the predicament you were today? 

You knew the answer. The answer was most likely no. You wouldn’t have the baby because there would’ve never been a night - the night - to relieve your Jake-induced stress. Because you would have already taken the time to talk to Josh. . . He would have reassured you before you even had time to ever get to that depressive point.

Would he have convinced you to be with Jake? 

You didn’t know. . . but. . . it was too late now. 

You were where you were now and there was nothing you could do about it. 

And none of this ever worked in how Maya had already been in the picture – maybe she had been part of the reason he became happier in the middle of summer.

In the end, she could be the one to thank for this– it could most definitely not be you. The sad truth of the matter was, she had probably been filling his cup all along. . .while he was filling yours.

While you were letting yourself get tangled in him, he was feeling the same emotions. . . but for her. Because, in the end, she was easier than you.

You couldn't find it in good conscience to be with him anyway.

Because, well, you still wouldn’t have wanted to distract him from his dream with a relationship. His dream was too valuable to possibly table for you. You were too much of a mess that he could get distracted by, rather than taking the time to fulfill his dream.

She freed up his time with her carefree nature. And you only infiltrated his time with your darkness. She was sunshine, brightening up his paths.

You had to figure you out before you could ever make someone as happy as Maya made Jake. 

Before you had this baby.

However the tables turned, they had already turned. And it was too late to go back and change anything now. You weren’t even sure what you would change–or what you would think if you could turn back time. There was too much filling up your brain–your life– to make the wisest decision. 

It didn’t matter anyway.

So, you told Josh all you could think to say. The same words you’d thrown nastily in Jake’s face, you threw harshly in your own.

“Well, I guess I served my purpose.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

When Josh pulled your car into your space, Jake’s was nowhere to be found. As always, you couldn't help but wonder where he was. He hadn't worked today so he was probably with-.

“I really am most mad at my brother.”

“Try not to be,” you encouraged lamely. You really didn’t care too much about him being angry at anyone right now. . . all you really cared about was getting upstairs to your bed to take a nice, long nap. It had been a day. 

“I’m going to be for a whi–.”

Tap tap tap.

Both of your eyes turned to Josh’s window. Outside of the driver’s side was Jake. You could see all the way down his loose shirt. It was open and tempting his tanned skin and firm chest, while his necklaces hung loosely in front of him, as he was bent over to peek into the car.

But. . . you could see the heated glare from his eyes, even through the tint of his Ray-Bans. His nostrils were flared and his lips had curled into a faux smirk. 

When Josh rolled his window down, you heard Jake's breathy chuckles that had no indication of anything truly humorous behind them. They sounded more bitter than anything else. 

“What have you two been up to?” he questioned, the inflection on the word ‘you’ paired with his snide tone told you he was probably less than thrilled to see you and Josh together. Alone, at that. 

But why? Why the fuck would he care?

You were struck completely motionless and silent, feeling nauseous again, desperately trying to swallow down that all too familiar sensation. But this time, it wasn’t due to the hormones wreaking havoc in your tummy, it was Jake’s presence at this incredibly horrid time that had your belly flipping in slow motion somersaults. 

Josh huffed a laugh that nearly replicated Jake’s. Mimicking his twin to further his irritation, no doubt. You knew Josh was in no mood to put up with Jake’s piss-poor attitude, especially given everything he had discovered. You were tightly holding your breath at whatever the hell could possibly come from Josh's mouth, hoping that he would say as little as possible.

“Funny that you should ask, Jacob,” Josh retorted. He turned his head to the left to make eye contact with his twin, his fingers were still gripped to the steering wheel with a force that turned his knuckles stark white.

What was he about to say? Shit. He knew better. . . right?

“Because," Josh began. "I don’t exactly believe it’s any of your business what we're doing. In fact, I know it’s none of your business.”

Ironic. . . because it most definitely was his business. He just didn’t know it. Not yet.

He flashed Jake his classic Josh grin, extra wide with eyes squinted, an extra, added dramatic flair of his fluttering eyelashes to seal his condescending statement. 

You let out the breath you had been holding, thankful that Josh kept from saying too much. This was not how you wanted Jake to find out. Although, you still had no idea when or how you would approach that. 

All you knew for sure, was that this wasn’t the right time. 

Jake had stood firm the entire time, a brow raised with an obviously fake grin that held his lips in a tight line. His first response was a snicker through his nose and a patronizing simper, just shy of a full on scowl. 

“‘Kay, got it,” he sneered. Then, he was patting the side of the driver's door with his opened palm before swiftly turning on his heel to walk away. He forcibly shoved his hands in the front pockets of his black jeans as he sauntered off, and you couldn’t help but notice how it stretched the fabric even tighter against his perfectly, rounded ass. A sight you still fawned over, admittedly. 

How could you not?

But you broke your gaze quickly once Josh turned to face you once again. Even though he finally knew about the special addition that you shared with his brother, you’d still feel awkward (and a little guilty) as fuck if he watched you gawk over him so openly. Especially on a day so sensitive as today.

Josh had let out an exasperated sigh deep from his lungs, his jaw clenched and hard when he finally shut the humming engine off. “I have so much that I want to say to him,” he muttered, mostly to himself as his tone was hushed.

Yeah. Me fucking too, you thought to yourself. Don’t you think I get it?

Without the engine running, the car had become dead silent. The type of silence that allowed you to hear the rapid beating of your own heart clearly in your ears. (You even thought for a moment that you could hear Josh’s, too. That kind of quiet. Like earlier. Right after you'd told him.)

It gave you time to ponder. . . Despite his incredible response to all of this today, you still worried. Because, for the first time in the literal years of having Josh as your safe haven, you feared that things could have changed far too much for him to ever look at you the same again.

But then, your never ending train of overthinking was put to a halt when he placed a loving hand on your knee. When his warm eyes connected with yours, they reassured you that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere. At least not anytime soon.

“You ready to go inside, mama?” 

His sweet smile that you had loved for years lit up his once hard features. Seeing the signature grin lifted some weight off your heavy shoulders.

You nodded your head and unbuckled your seatbelt as he did the same. But as you lifted the latch on the passenger door, another thought began clouding your mind, a question that you felt you needed to ask someone. That you needed to ask Josh.

“Hey. . .,” you started as he already had one foot out the door.

He stalled his movements and promptly turned his head to face you. 

“Yeah?” he answered, the same smile still cocked in the corner of his mouth.

“When should I tell him?”

He situated himself back inside, resting his back against the dark leather. His eyes were cast on yours, soft and kind as you’d always known them to be, yet a seriousness found within them. 

“That’s up to you, mama. You have to decide when the time feels right.” His gentle hand reached to grab your shoulder in a reassuring gesture, effectively pulling you away from your burdening thoughts. 

Once you’d finally made your way out of the car, you heard him clear his throat and looked to see what else he had to say. He was squinting at you through the autumn day’s rays when he finished the line of thought he’d started in the car.

“But. . . knowing my twin, he’d want to know sooner rather than later. Don’t wait too long, love. He’s got a good heart, you know that. Give him the chance to step up like I know he will.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Friday, November 11, 2022

You’d missed the show completely. As you knew you would. 

Josh had known you were going to show up later than usual since your school work was (quite actually) burying you. Specifically, it was thanks to a 20-page paper that was due tonight. 

Thankfully, you’d been able to finish it in time to at least meet the boys at the bar (smoke free, Josh had clarified on the phone) they’d decided to hang out at after the show. You hadn’t hung out with them after a show in forever. Hadn’t even been to a show in. . .well, you didn’t even know how long.

The reason could be mostly chalked up to your intense homework load this semester, but part of you knew you’d also been trying to avoid them due to the addition of Maya. 

It just didn’t feel the same anymore. And you knew you couldn’t force yourself to pretend. So, the extra school work turned out to be a pretty good excuse. At least you weren’t fabricating anything when you’d told them you couldn’t make it. (Although you would prefer if you didn’t have so much fucking homework.)

But you did miss watching Jake perform. You missed the faces he’d make while playing his guitar, the ones that so closely resembled the one’s he’d make with you. The way he’d thrust himself into his beloved instrument, or pull it close to his body with a force that left your head reeling and your body in dire need for him. 

As much as you missed all of that, something you missed even more was witnessing how his passion exuded through his entire body while he played. How his love for his art was so wonderfully evident as he put so much of himself into every song he played. 

And with the way your body kept betraying you – literally pulsing with desire for him anytime he was simply near you . . . to the point of needing to relieve yourself with your hands or a toy. . . You were weak as fuck. You figured it probably wasn’t the best idea to watch him perform like that with your hormones going ballistic.  

Too many factors worked together to make you feel rather uncomfortable about being near him in that capacity. But. . . here you were. Waiting at the bar for them to arrive. 

Putting yourself in a situation where he’d inevitably be near – sitting at the same booth as you, most likely. Admittedly, it wasn’t your most incredible idea. But Josh telling you the other guys had been missing you made you realize how badly you’d missed them. 

So. Here you were. Scrolling on pregnant influencers’ Instagram pages for helpful tips and testimonials (and occasionally Jake’s page, just to torture yourself) as you waited for them.

Just as you’d thought to send Josh a text letting him know you were at the bar and sitting at a booth near the back, you felt the urge to pee like no other. Your belly had sort of popped in the few days that had transpired since your first ultrasound. You were learning that twelve weeks on your body was the. . . rounder version of twelve weeks. . . Which was not working in your favor to hide your changing body. 

Thankfully, the rest of your body looked mostly the same as normal – save for your boobs which were still about as big as they were in your Shining twin costume (not growing too much more yet, but continuing to be sore as hell). They weren’t giant, per se, but they definitely looked noticeably bigger and felt fucking heavy.

So, you were officially having to wear looser-fitting clothing to avoid anyone looking at you differently. To be fair, to most eyes, it probably would've looked like some weight gain around your midsection if you wore normal clothing. But to you, it literally just looked like you were pregnant. 

You were definitely getting used to waking up every morning to a body that looked just a little different than the day before. Noticed every little change—but they didn’t feel little to you. . . Anything that changed felt massive to you.  

. . .Hence why you were being overly cautious with the giant sweaters. . . Because, to you, it looked so obviously different that you didn’t want to risk people thinking anything or asking any questions.

And, thanks to your newly expanding uterus and a spike in your progesterone (according to your Ovia app), you were beginning to actually wiggle in your seat from the urge to pee. It was all rather unkind on your poor bladder. . .  You had to fucking relieve yourself soon or you would be peeing your leggings. It would be embarrassing as hell to pee yourself and smell like it for the entire evening.

Though, you realized, as people started filtering in, that you couldn’t get up to pee. . . It was too much of a risk that you’d lose the one big booth to this hastily growing Friday night crowd.

Just as you’d started contemplating your lack of options, a particular laugh you’d gotten (unfortunately) used to, made its way through the crowded bar. Your eyes zoomed to the dark haired, caramel-skinned beauty who’d taken up residence in Jake’s life. 

Maya. 

Her laugh was just as beautiful as she was. . . Directing every eye in the front of the establishment to her as they joined in on whatever she was laughing about. She was a force to be reckoned with and it was obvious anytime you saw her. You were pretty sure you could see her chocolate eyes actually sparkling, all the way from across the bar.

Then, here you were in a giant ass Pratt hoodie with plain black, ratty leggings and your white Chucks. Feeling bloated and gross. . . And still needing to really fucking pee. So you had to put your insecurities to the side and get up from the spot you’d effectively heated up for the last twenty minutes because your one and only solution had just walked in. 

You didn’t want to walk away and lose your spot, so you did the only thing you could think to do. 

“Maya!” You called in her direction, tucking your phone into your hoodie pocket with one hand while the other waved at her. An incredibly forced smile was plastered to your face. 

Is this the first time I’ve ever spoken to her? You wondered briefly. 

Even though you knew the answer. 

Yes, definitely the first time I’ve ever talked to her. Weird. And funny fucking cause for it, too, you giggled to yourself, just behind your close-mouthed grin.

It was as if she’d already seen you, because she looked at you with a knowing look. She sent you a (stupid) wink and a (stupid, yet admittedly kind) wave, along with a wide smile—bright white teeth complimented by her full lips. 

Standing up had caused your bladder to go into emergency mode—a sensation similar to nearly bursting was the only way you could describe it. And, strangely, you suddenly felt sort of dizzy from the overwhelming pressure. 

That’s odd, you thought absently, brows wrinkling ever so slightly with the feeling. Ignoring it, you kept waving. And, the smile slipped from your face as you urgently motioned her over. Getting the hint, she said goodbye to the few patrons she’d been talking with and made her way to you. 

Long, wavy hair, inky as the night sky, flowed in waves around her shoulders as she sweetly pushed through people on the way to the booth. 

Every man she passed had to do a double take, watching her as she passed by them. . . You didn’t blame them. She was a fucking dream. (And you hated it.)

Body positively snatched and voluptuous in her all-black outfit. Her large breasts, exposed just right in her extremely low-cut black shirt. The shirt dipped all the way to the middle of her rib cage, exposing a lot of her perfect, perky breasts and tight abdomen. The tiny waist just below the dip was intimidating at best and had you feeling extremely self conscious of your nearly non-existent waist (thanks to the tiny friend living inside of you). You were glad you couldn’t see her ass, because you knew the exquisitely round part of her would have you heading for the door rather than the restroom. 

God, why did she have to look like a damn model? It was the worst possible thing for you. You were sure of it.

Once she was finally at the table, you didn’t want to stand there and stare at her. She had you feeling ready to jump out of your unfamiliar, changing body. Made you feel like nothing, just by standing there.

And, most importantly, you were nearing the risk of peeing with a singular movement at this point. You really weren’t sure how you’d make it to the restroom, but you had to try. 

You were already toeing around the table, out of the booth, when you spoke to her, averting your eyes and finding the restroom sign instead. “I’ve gotta pee really fucking bad,” you hastily said, taking the final step from the back of the booth. “Can you save this table for me so we have a place to sit?”

“We?” She questioned. “Y/n, I would definitely normally save it for you and your friends, but I have to work on finding my own place since I’m waiting here for Jake and the—.”

“Jake and the guys, I know.” You snapped, eyes flashing as you finished for her, not focusing on your facial expression. You were almost positive you rolled your eyes at her comment. 

Does she not know? Why? Did no one tell her?

Bouncing on the heels of your feet, back and forth, you quickly continued. Matter at hand. “I’m here to hang with you guys, too, but I’ve gotta—.”

“Pee!” She finished, a giggle that was probably supposed to be cute left her lips. “Go! I’ll save it. Go, go, go!” 

You were already walking away with her last sentence, hearing her from behind your back as you focused on not wetting your pants on the way to the ladies room. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

When you got back out, you were instantly met with the sight of all of the guys at the back booth you’d saved.

Your eyes, sadly, found Jake and Maya first – sitting practically on top of each other in the back corner of the booth. She was wrapped up in Jake, while engaging in a conversation with Sam. And, even though she seemed to only be halfway listening, Sammy kept on talking like she was interested in only him. 

But with the way Jake’s hand toyed with the hair over her shoulder and eventually traveled to squeeze (and hold) her waist. . . you knew why she wasn’t fully listening. Sammy would not be getting her full attention any time soon, and you knew that from personal experience. If it were you Jake was playing with like that, you would have tuned Sam completely out. 

Pushing any emotion down that threatened to boil up to the surface, you kept on walking to the booth. 

And when you got close enough, all of the attention was suddenly on you. The first one to notice you was Danny, who got up from his end seat on the booth to greet you with a giant hug. You sank into him, feeling all of the love that he was emitting sink into your sore body. 

Then, Sam was loudly exclaiming your presence, telling you that he was waiting for his own hug. 

You went around the three brothers who wanted to give you a squeeze. 

Sam hugged you especially hard, making your boobs ache like no other when he pressed hard against you. Gratefully, Josh had been paying attention when you caught his eye with a pained expression and had loudly determined that it was his turn.

After Josh had grasped you from Sam and given a loose hug, you stood awkwardly. Waiting. But for what?

But. . .you knew what. . .knew why.

It was Jake’s turn. 

Though, all you got was a little close-lipped smile and a half-wave with a head nod from his spot next to his supermodel girlfriend. 

You reciprocated with essentially the same response, your stomach falling to your feet as you did so. It was ludicrous to think he’d get up for a hug, too. Especially with Maya sitting next to him with her perfectly-fucking-manicured hand clutching the inside of his thigh. 

God, you needed to feel him close to you, though. You needed your hand on his inner thigh, dangerously close to a place on his body that’d been so accustomed to yours. You couldn’t help the way you yearned for him to be inside of you again. . . It was fucking embarrassing as hell.

And, then there was an incredibly intrusive thought. 

It told you that, for some (strange) reason, the idea of his pecs pressing into your sore breasts. . .sounded extremely appealing. (And the thought of his hands or his warm, wet mouth on them? Fuck.) 

But— you knew at this point, there was a fat chance of that ever happening.

He didn’t want you near him like that. And definitely not his hands or mouth on you. So you were sure he did not want a measly hug either.

And right now? In this bar? At this exact time? Obviously-fucking-not. Why would he move away from perfection? For you? In your frumpy-ass outfit? As you glanced down self-consciously, you even noticed one white sock peeking way higher than the other from your high-tops. 

Small details. Small details that showed how much of a fucking mess you were in comparison to her.

When you heard his laugh cut through the wave of emotion you were feeling, you looked back up at him. Only to see that he was engaged with Maya and Sam in some (apparently) hilarious conversation. 

He didn’t give two shits about you that way anymore. Why would he?

The terrible things you’d said to him in the kitchen were the first reason that came to your mind. Haunted you everyday, reminding you that you didn’t deserve his attention. 

You bet she, in her utter perfection and 'sunshiney' ways, would never tell him the things you had. He was probably relishing in the mental break she provided him. A break from the emotional thunderstorm that was you. 

But what the two lovebirds didn’t know was that you were carrying a part of him within you that she couldn’t do a thing about. No matter what she was to him, she didn’t have what you did. 

Though, the depressing truth of the matter was even if you were carrying his baby, Maya was still the one falling asleep next to him more nights than not. You had a piece of him, yes, but she had all of him. 

Fuck. That felt selfish. Without even thinking about it, you brought your hands up to your stomach as an effort to apologize to the little lemon-sized baby in your tummy. 

You are enough for me, you desperately thought, looking down, hoping to translate the words somehow to your unborn bundle of hope. You give me plenty of joy. 

“Y/n,” Josh spoke, breaking you from your reverie. 

“Mmm?” You hummed.

Then he was leaning over, whispering so quietly in your ear. “You’re about to give particular notice to your stomach.”

Shit. You instantly dropped your hand, looking around to make sure no one had noticed. 

Thankfully, no one had. 

You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to your best friend, and scooted into the space he and Daniel had left for you, between them, on their side. 

Sitting again helped to balance you, as the dizziness from earlier kept coming back in tiny spurts. You didn’t know what it was all about, but you knew it was probably something attributed to pregnancy. It was probably something normal that you didn’t need to be worried about. 

But, you figured having someone to lean on would help to keep you steady. So, you found Josh’s shoulder, pressing against him. It was more than necessary, so you let your shoulder lazily lay against his arm. The closeness to a safe person felt overwhelmingly comforting in the otherwise emotionally-wrought headspace you were experiencing. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

About an hour later, you found yourself humming along to the music that had gotten progressively louder over the time you’d been sitting with the guys. Getting lost in the melodies felt nice. And you’d noticed, walking in that night, that it was soul music night, according to the sign on the front door of the bar.

Your favorite.

After sitting with them for only a few minutes, making small talk with Sam and Danny to catch up, you’d essentially let yourself become an observer. You’d just listened to them talk about all of these new, sudden opportunities that were coming around for them.

So much was changing. 

They were essentially done with the smaller gigs. Their label’s management had put their foot down that they were done with those. They wanted them going to more popular, reputable places to get their name out there. The label had taken it upon themselves to work with their manager to put them in bigger venues. They’d even begun advertising the boys with promotional pictures and posters all over active streets in Brooklyn.

“We’ve had photoshoots, y/n,” Sam had boasted in wonder at one point, making sure to involve you in the conversation. “Photoshoots! Like, real rockstar things.”

“‘S fucking nuts,” Daniel agreed, nodding beside you, sending you a small smile. “People working on wardrobe for us and all that shit.”

“Well, you are rockstars,” you told Sammy genuinely, letting your eyes skate to each of the boys (save for one). But, when you finished your statement, you let your eyes find him. And his eyes literally melted into yours. Like he’d been waiting for you to acknowledge him. “You’ve been ready for this for a long time. I’m just glad you are finally getting to live it.”

But you tore your gaze away before it could become too much. Though, the snicker you heard from Maya made your eyes cut to her. You forced yourself to hold your tongue. Didn’t trust yourself with what might come out of your mouth. What had her feeling all bitter and shit? She didn’t get the fucking half of it.

That particular thought had your hands falling to clasp tightly against your tummy, thankfully hidden by the table. 

They’d also begun working on their first album (which you knew about), but its release date had officially been set in stone for May. It was daunting for you and felt huge to you, so you couldn’t imagine how it felt for them. 

It was all moving so fast. . . Which, if you were being honest, terrified you for what was to come in the near future. The little bean that was set to arrive around the time of the album’s release. Because of all of your recent . . .changes, it just felt like a terrible time for things to feel so unsure and abnormal. 

You knew it was selfish to feel that way. You did. It was just impossible to not feel worried and anxious. 

The stress inevitably started climbing up into your upper back, creating tension. And, Josh, being Josh, must’ve sensed a change in your demeanor. He’d wrapped his arm around your shoulders when you started feeling all bunched up and jittery. You’d leaned into it, needing the incredible amount of comfort in his embrace and presence. 

The music was setting your mind at ease from the tension you felt in your body. It also helped to alleviate the awkward air you felt with the proximity of Jake’s guest. Who sat there looking so beautiful all night. Jake’s arm hadn’t left her shoulders all night, twirling her long waves between his long fingers. You had to look away at several points. It didn’t take long for the sight to become too much. Your ever-present nausea only increased by watching them. 

So you didn’t watch. Didn’t allow yourself to look at him.

You breathed in the music. The music saved you. You just listened to the music. The world was a blur. 

But, when they all joined in on mutual excitement, all smiles and voices getting louder, you tuned back in just slightly.

And when you did, they were talking about one particular thing they were all looking forward to: a special event of sorts that was coming up. 

Apparently it was a huge thing for this event to take place. One final step before embracing the stardom. It would happen in a few months’ time — once the label execs heard a few songs, and released them as singles. Then, they would get to preview them to the public. 

It would be an intimate type of event, more like old times, but for a few semi-important people who worked for the tour management team and whoever else wanted to come. It would be a listening party where the boys would play their new music. And according to the boys, it was the label’s attempt to get an idea of touring being a possibility. 

A lot of it was pinned on if the turnout was good. On how the guys interacted with the crowd. How the performed. . . It would be a sort of audition for the tour management team. 

“I have faith that they’ll love us,” Sammy said, buzzing with excitement. “I’m speaking that shit into existence.” 

The rest of the guys agreed.

Your eyes inadvertently snapped to Jake when he spoke next. “And once we start touring. . .,” he said, grin huge and his eyes shining at the other guys. “That’s when it all becomes fucking real. And it’ll be here before we even know it.”

Your stomach fell.

Josh squeezed your knee after he’d said it, knowing exactly what you were thinking.

Your thoughts were fucking spiraling. Looking down, you closed your eyes to will the tears away— tried your best to be subtle with your bundled up emotions. 

You felt so excited for him. You wanted it for them—for him. All along, you’d wanted him to live his dream. The one he’d had for so long. But the idea of him going off and away. . . All of them being so far away, all of the time, right at the time your life would be inevitably changing for the rest of forever. . . It was a lot to wrap your mind around.

It had your stomach tied in fucking knots—the idea of Jake being a dad, but not getting to be one. Leaving you. Leaving the baby. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, per se, but it was going to hurt like hell. 

You swore, right then and there, that you would not let him give it up for anything. Not a baby, definitely not you (not that he’d want to abandon it for you) — it was the last thing you wanted. The last thing that would happen. 

He would live the dream. Even if you had to force him to do so.

No matter how badly you already knew you’d  want him around during that massively  transformative time. . . You were capable of doing it on your own. And Elsie would help. She would most definitely be around, you already knew. 

But. . . Jake. 

You shoved the thoughts down to the tresses of hell, literally planting your feet flat on the floor to center yourself to present time. Shifting a bit, you laid your head on Josh’s shoulder, letting your eyes drift closed after a while. Didn’t sleep, no, but you felt like you could have. Your body felt loose and weak from the night’s stress slowly leaving your body as you focused on Josh’s steady breathing and the music. 

As the night wore on, the volume had ended up getting so loud that everyone practically had to yell at one another to have a conversation, even within the close confines of the booth. 

So, you had to blink your eyes open at that point. It was too much. The over-stimulation was soon approaching. You could feel it. You felt. . . heavier than normal. Like, you were being pulled down to the earth with exhaustion. Which was new, but probably just over-stimulation.

Even with your eyes open, they were hooded. You were so tired, you felt as though you couldn’t open them much more. And the dizziness from earlier was back with force. 

So you focused on swaying your body a little to the rhythm of each song, tapping out the beat of each on the table. Josh had instinctively begun humming along with you while still managing to keep conversation with everyone else. He’d sneak the occasional smile to give a sign of him remaining loyal to your company as well as the others’.

The melodious harmonies of Stevie Wonder’s "Please Don't Go" had been a surprise, as it was a more unpopular hit of his. It was a welcome distraction to listen to a song you knew well over the speakers, for all ears to hear. Nothing beat hearing songs you loved, playing in public spaces. 

Oh, Stevie. His songs had historically been known to bring you peace. Always had. Always would. Stevie's music never failed to meet you where you were emotionally. This song, not being an exception, and hitting extremely close to home for the present time. . . But still, the tension you’d felt all night began to dissipate, sizzling out almost completely with the beautiful ending of the track.

Just as the heavy weight of your anxieties you’d carried all night had lifted, the next song started to ring throughout the building.

Only this time, the feeling it gave you was a far cry from the previous. 

You knew it instantly. You’d be able to hear this song even if it weren’t blaring throughout the building. 

As soon as the first note sounded, it sent a vibration straight to your heart and a swarm of butterflies (that actually felt more like bees) to your tummy. 

You hadn’t looked at him yet, but you felt Jake’s eyes piercing through you. 

You didn’t want to look at him. Not yet. 

Your hormones had been far too out of whack for that. You knew you’d cry instantly upon seeing his face while this song played at a volume that you now wish was much, much lower.

Aretha’s powerhouse voice repeated it over and over again. 

You’re all I need to get by, you’re all I need to get by, you’re all I need. . .

No, you weren’t looking at Jake. But he was still the only vision clouding your mind’s eye. 

You were back on your living room floor. . . his eyebrows bunched together with each heavy thrust into you, the sweat that accumulated between them, the perspiration and exertion that could only come from real intimacy. . .passion.

And it was plain to see that you were my destiny. . .

His coffee colored eyes that bore into you as his body connected with yours in the most intimate way that it could’ve. 

And when I lose my will, you’ll be there to push me up that hill. . .

How he filled you so completely, stretching you the only way you ever wanted. . . How, in that moment, it felt like he was made to fit you. Your body, your heart, your life.

I don’t know what’s in store, but together we can open any door. . . 

Without even meaning to, your eyes met his. 

And while Maya was going on about whatever she felt the need to talk about, he was watching you. His eyes were extremely thoughtful. . . So much being communicated behind them. 

If you were delusional, you’d even go so far as to say he was admiring you. . . The way his eyes flashed a bit as you watched him, too. 

But you weren’t delusional. 

Though, you just knew that he was thinking the same thing as you. . . He knew. He knew this song was special. 

And as much as you attempted to not wear your emotions, with your condition, it was impossible.

You felt your eyes prick with tears as the song came to an end, and you quickly put your head down for what you knew was coming. And when the small drop hit your cheek, as soon as it appeared, you wiped it away. 

You looked back up, sniffing once and shaking your head.

Why did I have to fucking look?

“God, I wish they’d play music from this century here for once. Or at least something halfway decent,” Maya snickered, her attention on Jake, pulling his gaze away from you with her ignorant remark. “This song could put me straight to sleep. Music like this is meant to be left in the past where it belongs.” 

What the hell? What was even the point? 

What she said had your blood boiling with red hot rage. Of course she had to pick this song to insert her disgusting opinion.

And how was Jake, of all people, in a relationship with someone who thought so little of older music? How did he put up with that shit? It would be really fucking hard to hear things like that all the time if you were in his shoes.

A look of pure disgust washed over Josh’s face, and you knew he wouldn’t take her shit laying down. Not when it came to good, classic soul music. Not to mention, Aretha was one of his biggest vocal inspirations. “How can you not appreciate the Queen of Soul? She paved the way for singers of every genre, her voice is timeless and immaculate. To criticize her is to criticize all music.” 

His defensive tone had everyone silent for an almost uncomfortable amount of time.

You wanted to chime in and let her know that you agreed with everything he said. But you felt it best to keep your mouth shut given the real reason you were so pissed. Didn’t trust your emotions to stay steady enough to get your point across. 

This was personal.

To your shock, it was Jake that ended up breaking the awkward silence at the table. “You know, babe, some of us have some pretty significant memories tied back to music like this,” he asserted, sharply, pulling away from her, dropping his arm from her shoulders to look at her better. “This song specifically. . . At least for me.”

Your heart leapt into your throat at what he was implying. Significant? He couldn’t mean. . .? But then he flashed his eyes to you. And you knew. 

Fuck, Jake. The butterflies let completely loose in your tummy at the implication. At the look. 

He continued, his voice growing softer, while staying assertive. “And it could very possibly be hurtful to others when you say surface level shit like that.”

Maya scoffed, rolling her eyes. This was the first time you’d ever witnessed the woman be something other than a dream. “So I can’t have opinions, hm?” 

“I never said—,” Jake tried, getting interrupted by her continuing. 

She was piercing him with a glare, tone biting. “Did you ever stop to think about how it hurt my feelings when you refused to see 21 Savage with me? And after I got us the tickets, no less?” 

You didn’t mean to snort a small laugh at her words. 

But. . . 21 Savage?!

Thankfully, you weren’t alone in finding amusement in the words as everyone else had a similar response. Sammy spit out the drink he’d just taken, some of it even coming out of his nose. Daniel had clapped a hand over his mouth and dragged it down his face, closing his eyes in the process. 

And Josh turned to you as soon as you turned your sights to him. He made eyes at you, raising his brows with a grin threatening to turn into a laugh. If he could’ve spoken, you assumed he’d say something along the lines of ‘oh, shit.’

Sam was the next to speak, barely able to catch a breath as he wiped the leftover drink from around his mouth with a napkin. “Maya, my dear,” he giggled, the words distorted a little by the wipe of the napkin. “You surely can’t have an emotional connection with his music?”

“Maybe I do,” she retorted, scooting away from Jake a little. Crossing her arms over her cleavage, she eyed Sammy, judgmentally. “Maybe it saw me through some really hard times.”

“Did it?” Danny tried, his face seeming earnest in pursuit to find sense in her music taste. 

“Well,” her eyes found Danny’s, but darted around a bit, still. “Not necessarily. . . But I do enjoy his music. . . Which is my prerogative.”

Josh’s brow was quirked. He stared her down, his face a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “Maya,” he cleared his throat. Her eyes found him, hard and defensive. But it was obvious she was losing some steam. “There is a difference between enjoying music and having it change the entire trajectory of your entire life.”

Before she could sputter out a response, the waiter was back at the head of the table with the two pizzas the guys had ordered. 

“One pepperoni pizza,” she said, placing one giant tray of pizza on the table. 

Your nose immediately picked up on the overwhelming scent of cheese and pepperoni. You had never smelt something so greasy. This was even worse than the greasy smell at Waffle House on the morning you’d gone with Elsie. And where there, you could find some sort of nostalgic comfort in the smell of it. . . there was nothing that could make this pizza’s smell appealing. Fuck.

“And. . .,” Sammy’s excited tone broke through your nauseous reverie. 

You didn’t look up, only watched in near agony as the second pizza, filled with every vegetable in the book, was sat right in front of you. Every fucking vegetable had it’s own special, rancid smell that you hadn’t ever noticed until now. 

Goddamn. And it just got worse as you let your eyes follow a slice that Sam took off the tray, cheese so disgustingly stringy, to his waiting mouth. The way his teeth sunk into the pizza and the oil slipped down his chin. . . You felt the bile rise in the back of your throat at the sight. The dizziness set in again. Then there was the cheese that came to the corner of his mouth as he chewed his first bite with an open mouth. 

Closing your eyes, you tried your best to will it away. 

But you couldn’t. It was too late. Behind your closed eyes, all you could see was the sight again, but this time, in slow motion. . . more and more repulsive with every flash of the image. 

You found Josh’s leg, hitting it repeatedly to indicate that you needed out of the booth. Your other hand, held tightly over your mouth, which felt as though it could explode with projectile vomit at any moment. 

That would be real cute. A really effective way to make Jake look at you. . . but not for the reasons you’d want. 

At. All.

Thankfully, Josh got the hint and quickly scooted out of the booth to allow you out. 

And as soon as your feet hit the concrete floor, you were speeding to the bathroom once more. This time, immediately landing on your knees over the toilet with a hand clutching your hair, as you retched the (very little) contents of your stomach into the toilet.

It was alarming, to say the least, as you saw only clear saliva goo floating around in the bowl. . . no food accompanying the sickness you’d just produced. 

I haven’t eaten today, you thought suddenly, wiping your brow of the sweat that had accumulated. Nothing to puke out because everything sounded vile.

And then the dizziness was setting in again as you rose from your place on the ground.

You really hadn’t been eating much at all. And pickles, being the only thing you could stand to eat, did not give you proper nutrients. You knew that. 

Have to figure something out, you decided as you washed your hands. Disturbingly, you saw four hands instead of two and it was daunting at best. Need to go home and do some research so I can figure out how to fucking eat something.

By the time you got back to the booth, you already had your keys out of your belt bag. 

Josh gave you a sympathetic grin. He mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’ and you just shook your head, reassuring him with a mimicked ‘It’s fine’ in response.

When you snapped your head up from Josh to say bye to the others, you realized that Jake was watching you closely. Pensively. Unsurely. 

You gulped, setting your eyes on him. If only you knew, Jake. . . But, suddenly, anger was flaring in the place of any butterflies. Lack of food and pregnancy could do that to a person. But you don’t know. So quit looking at me. 

“You feelin’ sick, Baby Dragon?” Sam said, breaking you out of your staring contest with Jake.

“Yeah, noticed you weren’t drinking tonight. . . you okay?” Danny interjected. 

“O–Oh, yeah. No, yeah,” you shook your head, which only caused your head to throb. Shit. “Just tired. Exhausted from school.” And from carrying a human life in my uterus. “I wanna get home and rest.”

“I forced her to come tonight,” Josh added. He looked at you before exchanging looks with the other guys, emphasizing his point to help you out. “She has had her nose to the fucking grindstone. I insisted she needed a night out.”

“Forced her?” Jake scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “God, y/n. If you don’t want to come, then don’t come.”

You fumed at his words. What the fuck? Just minutes ago he was jumping to defend your song. “He didn’t force me,” you growled back at him. Don’t test a pregnant woman carrying your goddamn baby, Jacob. “What he meant was that he encouraged me to come since I haven’t been around for a while.”

“And why’s that?” Jake pushed, continuing to jest at you. Is this a game to you, asshole? 

“Jake,” Josh snapped, tone sharp and heated. 

“School,” you asserted (with a partial lie), shutting your eyes when you started seeing two of him. When you opened them to stare back at him, you focused hard as you continued to see four brown eyes instead of two. “But that’s not really any of your business is it, Jake?”

He was silent, his jaw clenching. Then he looked back to Maya, starting a conversation with her, effectively shutting you out. 

You weren’t sure how long you could put up with the hot and cold act from him. You knew that he was hurt, but you preferred the moments in recent times where he’d shown the soft side of his heart. The Jake side of his heart. 

The one flashing through your mind at this moment was on the night of the Halloween party. When he’d picked up the dropped brownies for you and then offered to help you carry stuff to your room. . . albeit he had been drunk. It’d still been him. You knew it. It was something he’d do. . . you knew him. 

And you knew him well enough to know when he was acting like an ass, it meant he was hurt. You weren’t oblivious to the recent hurt you’d inflicted on him. . . but why was he suddenly reacting like this again? Why now?

When another wave of dizziness took you over, you had to once again shut your eyes to keep your balance, and you held tight to the strap of your bag. Your head was also, once again, pulsing.

You opened your eyes and tried to stay steady, as you didn’t want to worry the three who cared. Pulling your phone from the pocket of your oversized hoodie, you shook your keys at the guys who still watched with concerned eyes. 

“Be safe,” Danny offered sympathetically, reaching a hand out. You grasped it, rubbing your thumb over the back. 

As soon as he let go, Sam was up and pulling you into a hug. Once he’d succeeded in killing your boobs again, he held onto your shoulders. “We miss you,” he said, breath thick with alcohol that was making your stomach turn. You held your breath and tapped at his hand politely before scooting back from him. “Love you, y/n.”

You repeated the phrase back to him before Josh got up, presumably to walk you to the door. “I promise I’ll start coming around more often again,” you told them. “I miss you, too.”

And just before you stepped to head toward the exit, you found Jake’s eyes again. 

They were softer now, showing concern he couldn’t hide at your current state. But there was still that fire behind them that you’d learned was purely Jake. And it made your heart thump a little harder in your chest.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The tiredness was unreal. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you were so fucking exhausted. Everything that had been happening recently–the therapy, telling Josh that you were pregnant with his twin’s baby, being pregnant with said baby (and worrying that you weren’t), taking sixteen-fucking-hours of classes. . . it had been a lot. That much was obvious as hell. 

And tonight had been emotionally taxing for sure. . . and knowing you, you knew it was more than extremely possible that the emotions alone had been what’d finally done you in. Drained you for all you were worth.

Well, that, and the lack of food in your system. And the persistent barfing.

You'd been poring over the resources that Dr. Rose had given you access to. And, one of the links on their site had informed you that it was extremely possible for the fatigue to peak around this point of the pregnancy–ten to twelve weeks.

And considering you were right about at 12 or so, it was on the mark.

But when you’d read that, you hadn’t been expecting the feeling to be similar to that of being weighed down to the Earth by heavy-ass lead. You were dying to fall into bed and sleep off the exhaustion–right after taking a measly Tylenol for the pounding headache that’d been burgeoning for the past several minutes. 

All you could do at this specific moment, though, was focus on driving–and pulling into the apartment complex with as much precision as possible. The pain in your head was beginning to make your vision blurry and the things around you waved in ways you knew they weren’t supposed to. Goddamn. 

You finally made it to your parking space–by the grace of some higher entity. But, as soon as you tried to move to get out, everything around you began to spin at an accelerated speed. Moaning, you brought two shaking hands up to your eyes as you closed them. You started to count to ten, trying your best to take deep breaths–but even that was getting hard to do. Fuck. 

Finding your motherfucking bearings was proving to be a task and a half. 

And your head was just fucking throbbing relentlessly. 

“Dammit,” you groaned again, the words slurring just a bit. 

Somehow, though, you were able to make the trek from your car to the complex’s staircase–so close, yet so far, from your place. But you could feel the way your heart was thrumming quickly in your chest—just pounding against your ribcage from the basic action of walking.

Everything began waving around you again. You felt like you were floating and your head was becoming lighter and lighter by the second; the only reminder that it housed a brain was the raging, convulsing feeling in your skull. 

Your vision was incredibly blurry at best, as you looked from the base of the stairs, all the way up to the top. The top of the stairs was hardly visible. 

Shit. How the fuck am I going to climb these steps like this?

But, you weren’t able to contemplate it for much longer before everything started fading more and more, until you felt yourself falling and all you saw was a black abyss.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The hand you felt holding yours was the only thing that weighed you down to the white room. The other things that you immediately noticed: the sound of steady beeping (which was incessant) and the smell of antiseptic and bleach wafting from the bedding. 

The bed itself felt reminiscent of high quality cardboard, but the sheets were warmer than you would’ve expected. 

Letting your body relax back into the warm, polycotton sheets, you began to drift back to wherever you’d been. But you felt something hold you to the present. It was the someone with the hand who was helping to keep you conscious. The thumb that swept purposefully across the back of your hand tied you to the real world before you could escape to the one behind your eyelids.

Then you felt the hand holding yours squeeze the slightest bit tighter. Your lids were heavy when you squinted them open–immediately hating the way the fluorescent lighting assaulted your irises. You didn’t know if it was possible, but you were damned sure you could feel your pupils adjusting to the overbearing beams from the bulbs. 

Moaning, you reached your free hand up to cover your eyes. And when you did, you noticed the influx of tubes, taped to and sticking out of your hand. Specifically, the needle connected directly to your vein. What the fuck was going on?

Amidst your confusion, you finally processed who the hand was connected to as you heard his voice.

“Yes, yes,” Josh said in response to something. You noticed that he was seeming to squeeze your hand in little pulsing intervals. When you squeezed back to indicate you were awake, his eyes were immediately on you, abandoning his conversation. “Y/n? Oh, fuck,” his voice was thick with emotion. His gaze became wet as he checked your face over. “I was so worried about you.”

You didn’t know what to say, since you weren’t really sure why you were here or what had happened to get you here. . . All you could remember was being tired and dizzy with a pounding in your head. 

You tried to speak, but it was in vain, as your throat was dry as fuck. All that came from your lips was a measly croak. But, thankfully, Josh was immediately coming to your rescue with one of the hospital’s giant plastic cups, filled to the brim with water. He held the straw to your lips and you sat up a little to have better leverage to take a drink. To your surprise, the pounding in your head was gone, and there was no dizziness accompanying your movements. 

And no nausea – best part of all.

As soon as the water slipped past your lips, you shut your eyes in utter relief. Water had never tasted so good. You weren’t sure if water even had a taste, but at that moment, you swore it did and that it tasted like liquid gold would. 

Once you’d had enough for the moment, almost draining the large cup, you backed away and leaned into the pillows that awaited behind you. 

Sighing in relief, you tried to say words again. And this time, it worked. “What’s going on?” You slowly spoke, your head still feeling slightly airy. You let your eyes trail to Josh’s, questioning him. “Why am I here?”

Then, you started panicking. You shot up from where you’d settled against the pillows, clutching your stomach. The IV’s connected to your hand pulled at your skin, stinging. You ignored the pain though, and felt your tummy. It was still round, but obviously that didn’t mean– oh no. Your deepest fears came to life in your head, piece by terrifying piece. The baby. 

“Oh, fuck, Josh,” you said, your eyes were wild and immediately drew wetness, which ran steadily down your cheeks. No no no no no. “The baby? Is the baby–? Oh–.”

“Yes, yes,” Josh shushed you, running his free hand over the top of your head. “The baby is fine. Already checked and looks the same as it did a few days ago,” his eyes shone with reassurance. “Nothing is wrong with the baby.”

“Heartbeat?”

“Steady as can be.”

You felt your lungs fill with air again. “Okay,” you breathed out, leaning back into the pillows once more. “Okay.”

“But you on the other hand,” he started, his brow raising and eyes burning into yours. “You need to be giving yourself proper attention, mama.”

“I—?” You shook your head. You knew you weren’t the most attentive to yourself, but you’d tried very hard to be more self-serving recently in some regards. Longer showers, Friends, Cosmic Brownies (RIP) and pickles, therapy (if that counted). . . “I’ve been trying. . .” 

But the vomiting is proving some of that to be impossible, Joshua, you thought silently, snidely.

“What your friend is trying to tell you,” the doctor began. Your eyes shifted to her, an older woman with delicate features whose gray hair was pushed back by a pair of readers. Then her brows wrinkled. “Well—friend? Father of the baby?”

You both spoke at the same time.

“Oh, no—.”

“Not me,” Josh corrected with a laugh, his smile bright and humored underneath his new mustache. “That’s my brother’s baby in there.”

Ridiculously, you began to blush at hearing Josh say it out loud. You were learning that any time it came from his lips, it made your breath catch in your chest just a little.

Jake’s baby. 

“Oh, my apologies,” she smiled, her crows feet wrinkling, voice wise with years of experience. “I just wanted to proceed using the correct title to address you. Speaking of which, I am Dr. Stevens. It’s nice to meet you, Miss y/n.”

“Same to you,” you answered with a tiny, unsure smile and nod. “Thank you.”

Dr. Stevens hummed, then came to sit on the end of the bed, same side as Josh. You eyed her curiously as her expression turned a touch more serious. “Miss y/n,” she said, sounding like you’d imagine a caring mother would. “You are here because your iron was frighteningly low,” she said, concerned and checking your chart. “If it had gone untreated one more night, you would have been incredibly ill and unable to function properly at all come morning.”

“What?” You asked, shocked. Anemia wasn’t a new thing to you, you’d always had it. How had it intensified so quickly? “I mean, sure, I’ve always had mild anemia. Just kind of a thing that’s been there . . .haven’t thought about it in years, actually,” (because of some damn triggering, buried memories attached to it). “But I’ve never had – it’s never been as. . . Intense as this,” you held up your hand that was covered in tape and inserted tubes.

“Well, honey, you’re carrying a baby now who also needs those vital nutrients to help it develop,” she counseled. “And proper hydration,” she reminded. You nodded, eyes zoned in on your hands, full with pieces of plastic and tape, and not her face. When Dr. Stevens spoke next, her voice was the most stern it’d been so far. “And prenatal vitamins– those are essential for you and the baby.”

Your eyes flicked up to hers. The way she pierced you with her stare made you lean back like a scolded puppy. Your tail would have been between your legs if you had one.

Why hadn’t you bought any damned prenatals yet? Fuck all.

“Yes ma’am. I don’t know why I haven’t been taking–,” you tried, huffing. You were ashamed of yourself. “God, I feel bad,” you placed two hands on your tummy and looked down at it through the hospital gown you’d been changed into. “How has all of it not harmed the baby?”

“Well, again, tomorrow would have been a completely different story had you not been rushed in tonight,” she reminded, talking you through it slowly. “But we’ve got fluids pumping through you to get you back to normal.” She motioned to Josh, you looked at him with a small smile that he reciprocated. “And your friend has promised to take you for a prenatal run tomorrow morning. To find the ones that you feel might suit you best.” Dr. Stevens smiled, looking over at your bedside table. Your eyes followed, seeing the small medicine bottle sitting there, waiting for you. “For now, I have a couple ready to send home with you,” she assured.

“I’ve never been the best at prioritizing my health,” you mumbled, messing with a loose thread on the hospital gown. Josh held the hand that was anxiously picking at the material, making you stop. You looked over to see his kind, encouraging eyes. “I have ingrained my brain with several unhealthy, learned habits,” you admitted, finally looking at Dr. Stevens again. “So I guess this was a reality check of sorts. That it’s not just me anymore. I can’t just ignore what I need to acknowledge.”

You didn’t know what was inspiring the constant flow of transparently deep emotions to all of these unknown people in your life, but you weren’t totally opposed to it anymore. 

Dr. Stevens’ face contorted to show that she had sympathy. You were relieved. But when she spoke next, her voice was firm. “You’re right. This baby is forcing you to take care of yourself so he or she can survive and come out healthy and happy. I believe this baby is teaching you some proper life skills. But you need to be eating well to help this child have a good, healthy time in the womb. . .help him or her thrive at this vital stage in its life.”

God. She was right. You had seen the words Failure to Thrive on multiple sources you’d checked out about pregnancy. . . .always just skimmed past them, as it didn’t seem to pertain to you. But, of course it did. The vomiting. Not taking prenatals (seriously, what the fuck, y/n?). The lack of eating anything (save for the baby pickles). . .

You’d been so in your head about the present state of your health that you hadn’t taken nearly enough time to consider the baby. 

“I’ve just never been bad about eating. This is new,” you confided. “And it’s just gotten worse this past week or so. . . I haven’t been able to eat. Everything has made me want to vomit.” Then you decided to add, “Well, everything besides pickles. They’ve been my only source of any nutrients – which I know is pathetic, by the way – I just–just can’t even be in the same room as most food, much less eat it.”

“You’re experiencing a severe case of hyperemesis gravidarum, which is just a fancy way of saying that you’re excessively vomiting during your pregnancy. It’s due to a drastic change in hormones. Your HCG levels are through the roof, where they’re usually not. Most women just have to suffer through it,” she said in response, handing you sheet with the fancy medical term at the top. “That is an information sheet. Keeps you informed on the ins and outs of why you might be experiencing it.” She sighed before going on. “It will pass, honey. Give it a few more weeks and you should be over the worst of it – if not before. But being anemic makes it that much worse,” she explained, flipping her readers over her eyes and looking through the papers on her fancy clipboard. “You’ve just gotta stay on top of those preexisting conditions.”

“And not taking the prenatals. . .,” she scolded, making you look up from scanning the sheet. She gave you a look. “Is what has you in this condition. You should also be taking an additional iron supplement. I’m. . . sure you didn’t tell your OB about your previous anemia?” She wondered aloud. 

“No,” you murmured. “I really haven’t seen it present itself since I was really young. And it wasn’t really severe. . . at least I don’t think,” you rubbed your forehead, suddenly experiencing several sad moments in time. From a long time ago. So, once again, you bared your heart and explained.  “There are things from my childhood that I’ve forgotten. And even though I do actually know I experienced bouts of it during that time, I haven’t ever really acknowledged it because I just kind of forced myself to forget about it.”

Really, for some godforsaken reason, thinking about your anemia only brought back very unwelcome flashes of your mother’s house. . . and other dirty places you didn’t want to think about. Hence why you’d blocked it out.

Josh squeezed your hand– tried to bring you back.

Thankfully, Dr. Stevens continued before the thoughts could take over. “I am sorry, honey,” she said, empathetic. But, she continued on professionally. “The hard truth is that some of the things that have always sort of laid dormant can come back with a raging force during pregnancy. . . simply considering that the pregnancy is essentially a revamp on your body,” she paused when you chuckled at the word ‘revamp’. Yeah, right. She smirked at it, too. “I know, funny word choice. Doesn’t always feel like you’re revamping,” she flipped to the next page in her chart. “What I mean is, things can come back up and be bigger–stronger–than before. One more thing that is changing and increasing in your body. Medical conditions from the past may come back and get more ‘intense’,” she winked at you, using your word from earlier. “But, it’s important: now that the anemia has shown itself again – so aggressively –  at a time that your body is already very vulnerable. . .” She sighed, flipping her readers back into her dark gray hair before unclipping a paper from the chart and handing it to you. “It’s time we get a handle on all of it before it possibly shows its ugly face again.”

The sheet she handed you included several foods that you could eat to remedy the morning sickness. Some of which had made you feel like puking – or actually puke. But, there were a few things you didn’t have at home. Boring, bland foods. Things you just never bought. A few fruits and vegetables. . .

And a shit ton of vitamins.

“A lot of plain Jane stuff on there, I know. And vitamins, vitamins, vitamins,” she acknowledged. “But those supplements and bland diet are what will see you through the dark ages of this morning sickness. We need to treat that first. And then, you should be able to ease yourself into other foods and get your iron levels healthy again for you and your baby. Please focus on following that guide of foods and vitamins and just call my extension – which I attached to the top of that sheet – if you have any issues.” 

She then passed one more sheet over to you and added one more piece of information. “This sheet will include the Hemoglobin Kit I’ve ordered for you and it will be sent to the address your friend provided for us within the next few days. Please be using it to check your hemoglobin levels. Hemoglobin is the main component of red blood cells–a protein– that we need to see at normal levels. I’ve included where your levels should be on that sheet. They should never be too low or too high. Please read the information on the sheet and in the kit to answer any additional questions you may have. This will help you to track of how your levels are doing and if your anemia is spiking again,” she said, her voice seeming to drone on and on in your ears. “And again, call if you have any questions or concerns.”

As you continued reading through the paper, she unclipped another and handed it over to you.

You really were thankful for the documents, really, but dear god there were a lot of them. Virtually and physically. From your OB visit and tonight. It was overwhelming . . . made your skin feel tight and overheated.

It was also a lot of information for you to over-fucking-think. 

I’ll have to take them to Gia. She’ll help me sort through them, you reassured yourself, taking a deep breath in and out to calm the nerves. 

“And the morning sickness should. . . pass sooner rather than later?” Josh’s question broke through your reverie. Your eyes shut to refocus on the present moment and not the papers.

“It should, yes. For most women, it does,” the graying doctor confirmed. “You’re. . .how far along? I’d estimate about eleven, maybe twelve weeks?”

“Yes,” you nodded. “Twelve weeks according to my OB.”

“Yep. You should only have a few weeks – or less – left. Just try the foods on that sheet. The vitamins. Stay hydrated. There are several recommended supplements the sheet provides. You can find most all of them on Amazon.” 

You handed the sheets over to Josh, needing them away from you for the time being. You needed to be in the now. Needed to focus on anything else the aging, wise doctor may need to say. 

To put it plainly, tonight’s event landing you in the hospital had you scared shitless. And learning as much as possible from her would hopefully wind up putting your mind at ease. . . though, at this moment, it just had your heart rate increasing rather quickly.

She eyed the monitor next to your bed, moving closer to it as she observed something. “There goes that heart rate again,” she squinted at the vitals once more before pushing her glasses into her hair. She looked down at her chart, her lips pursing and readers going back on as she checked it over. “That’s another thing I want to address,” she hummed, sitting next to your legs, facing you and Josh from her seat. “Have you been under a lot of stress lately? A major change? Besides the baby? Mentally, perhaps? Emotionally?” She questioned. “Because while your iron levels were scarily low, your heart rate was also dramatically high. Which, yes, is related to the iron levels. . . but, I thought I’d go ahead and check as more often than not, it can pertain to an extreme amount of stress your heart is under from other sources.”

You stuttered out a response that involved you beginning therapy for the first time in years. You tried to touch on how you were experiencing a lot of emotions around what you would eventually be talking about in therapy. . . how you’d already bared your heart to Gia and opened up every single gate possible to effectively begin therapy. 

“I wanted to do it. Still do," you explained, needing Dr. Stevens to know that. “I would do it all over again right now if I needed to. She’s already helped me so much – after only one session, just with me basically projectile vomiting my past and emotions all over the room.” You took a breath, before finishing. “It doesn’t make it any less difficult though. It hurts. Physically, it hurts to talk about it all. I know it will all come together in the end. I trust the process–I trust my therapist. But it was extremely taxing – on top of everything else I’m feeling right now.” You glanced over at Josh before adding, “The baby’s father is. . . he’s just. . .”

“A lot,” Josh finished with a half-chuckle. “He’s a very good guy. He’s just a lot.”

“I have a lot of feelings about everything happening in my life right now, I’ll just say that,” you ventured to tell her. “And I had somewhat of a handle on my anxiety and depression before I got pregnant, but it’s also been something to resurface in a brand new way with the pregnancy hormones. Without me even knowing it sometimes. And before I know it, my heart is actually hurting my chest from the amount of pressure I’m putting myself under.”

Josh scooted his chair over closer to you and wrapped one of your hands in two of his, holding on tightly.

“It hasn’t all really clicked until now. . . that all of it might be related to my. . . issues,” you confirmed aloud, peeking over at Josh just briefly before looking back to Dr. Stevens. You’d just spilled your entire heart and it was making you feel extremely uneasy. God, she hadn’t asked to hear all of that. “I’m so sorry about spilling all of whatever that was,” you waved your hands around before combing them through your hair, trying to breathe deep breaths. You found her eyes, which you now realized were green. “I really–god, fuck. I’m– that was a lot for you to hear and you didn’t ask for the whole–.”

“I needed to hear it all,” she consoled you, tapping a comforting hand on the top bed sheet, rather than your leg. “It helps me assess the situation. . . and from what I’ve heard, it sounds like the most probable cause of you fainting tonight was due to the iron deficiency and your heart.” She assessed the numbers on the blinking monitor yet again. “It just hasn’t slowed much since you’ve been here, sweetie. Even with the medications we’ve given you to temporarily alleviate it, it’s still been sitting at around 120 beats per minute. And since you’ve been awake, it’s spiked enough to cause some concern to this doctor.”

As she expressed her concern again for your thrumming heart, (which you had noticed an increase in it’s pounding as of late) it began beating a little harder once again, causing an unpleasant tightness within your sternum. You winced. 

Josh noted the change almost as quickly as you did. His hands that held onto yours began squeezing even tighter, the skin of his palms now wet and clammy. He brought your hand, wrapped in his, up to his chin. The hair on his chin was unfamiliar to the last time you’d touched his face (who even knew when you last did that), but it still felt familiar enough against your knuckles to calm some of your nerves.

You couldn’t help but look at him with wide, fearful eyes. His eyes were steady on you, his attention only breaking from you to look at Dr. Stevens with a nonverbal note of worry for you. 

She stood from the bed and came to stand beside you, inserting the buds to the stethoscope around her neck, and held the circular part to your back. “Cough for me, sweetie,” she told you, her calm demeanor forcing you to come back from your momentary freak out. “Make it a big one.”

You found it to be an odd request, but you weren’t in any place to question this doctor who had shown you nothing but kindness. And offered help when you, apparently, so desperately needed it.

You did as she said, and forced the best cough you could muster. It instantly relieved the tension in your chest, even lowered your heart rate a bit as you watched the blinking numbers begin to drop on the screen. 

“Wh-what was that? Am I having a heart attack?” You felt silly asking her that. . .but you didn’t know any better, it may as well have been your body plummeting straight into a cardiac arrest. 

This was all a lot, and now you were very hyper aware of every little change in your heart that you felt, saw, or heard from the screen.

She chuckled softly, taking the stethoscope away from her ears, hanging once again around her neck. She watched your vitals intently as the blood pressure cuff attached to your left arm (that you hadn’t noticed yet) began squeezing you rather uncomfortably. 

“You’re not having a heart attack, my dear. Not even close,” she reassured. Although, you still felt the worry present in the pit of your tummy that you were unknowingly clutching again. “I am no stranger to the intense effects of anxiety. I’ve seen it time and time again. I think that was a big part of the palpitation episode you experienced a few minutes ago and the persistent increase in your heart rate I've seen so far tonight. However, I would like to conduct a little further testing. Just want to be sure your heart is nice and strong – for you and for the baby.”

You felt the air from Josh’s lungs release against your knuckles as he let out the breath he must’ve been holding, squeezing your hand just as tight as before. As terrified as you were, his presence provided the safety net your spirit needed to not be thrown back in a massive panic attack. 

She sat down on the bed next to you once again, her kind eyes offering little comfort right now as you start to feel overwhelmed with the sudden discovery of so many things that were apparently wrong with your body.

“If you can remember, have you ever been rather sensitive to the heat? Maybe suffered from heat strokes during your youth?” 

Her question had your mind yet again returning to your past that had been kept securely behind a locked door with no key. A place you didn’t venture often. 

But it did bring forth some hazy recollections of your days as a child, playing outside in the thick,  dry summer heat. How you couldn’t stand to be out in it for very long without feeling. . . faint. And dizzy. So fucking dizzy. 

A long since forgotten trait of yours that you never thought to pay any mind to. 

“Um– yeah, actually. Now that I think about it, Summers were always a challenge. I couldn’t stand being outside for much longer than a few minutes some days without feeling like I could pass out or throw up,” you huffed a humorless laugh at the memories playing back in your head. Miserable times. “It was. . .fucking awful.” 

You’d suddenly started to remember all the times you felt faint as a child. But it wasn’t always from the rise in temperature. Sometimes, it was from the stresses your mom tossed your way, the fights, the troubles that brewed in your home. It became more and more clear that fainting was most definitely not new to you. You just couldn’t remember. 

“Okay,” Dr. Stevens continued, her hand now patting your shin as she seemed to pick up on the unease of remembering your past. “What about when you go to stand up after a period of being seated or lying down, does your vision become a bit obscured at times? Like you’re seeing stars? Tunneled vision, maybe?”

“I mean, y-yeah,” you stuttered. “Sometimes. But it doesn't last for very long. Doesn’t everybody experience that, though?”

You had no clue where she was going with all of these questions— questions that she seemingly already knew the answers to. Of what it all meant, you weren’t sure. But you knew you needed her to cut to the chase soon before you began plummeting even further down the anxious path you’d started paving. 

“What does it mean? Is this something I should be worried about?” You asked through newly developed tears you had no control over. 

Your mind was running rampant with only one singular thought: the baby. What does this mean for the baby? 

“You don’t need to worry, sweetie. This is actually a lot more common than you think.”

She stood up from the bed, unclipping one more piece of paper from the board she’d been holding prior to sitting down. She handed it over to you, the paper weighing your hand down with what you were to find on it. 

But before you could begin to worry about what was on it, she was explaining it to you.

“That sheet is going to inform you on the ins and outs of Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, most commonly referred to as POTs,” she seriously informed, her eyebrows dipping to show concern for your worries that you knew were painted all over your face. 

“That’s a funny name,” Josh giggled, the breath from the laugh he’d let out fanned against your knuckles. “Like pots and pans. . . you know?”

You wanted to slap him because, shut the fuck up, Josh, now is not the time, but. . . try as you might, it actually calmed you down a bit. You couldn’t help the tiny ghost of a grin that floated over your lips.

Dr. Stevens glared at him, causing him to stop his little joke, before she continued on. “POTs,” she enunciated the name while flashing her eyes to Josh, “is nothing to be concerned with, but it is a valid heart condition that does require a bit more testing to confirm if it’s present or not. Just to be safe.” 

You peered down at the sheet in front of you and the bolded print that you tried so fucking hard to not be too overwhelmed by. It wasn’t the worst possible condition, but it was still a fucking heart condition that you could possibly have. And with everything else that’d happened tonight and your current life predicament. . . it was causing your head to spin.

Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS) is a condition that causes a number of symptoms when you transition from lying down to standing up, such as a fast heart rate, dizziness and fatigue. While there’s no cure, several treatments and lifestyle changes can help manage the symptoms of POTS.

As you read the small print across the page, she told you exactly what it was she suspected you had. “To put it plainly, your heart can’t pump blood quickly enough to your body, resulting in a higher heart rate and a lower blood pressure that can sometimes cause you to faint.” She came close to your bedside again, “If you don’t mind, I am going to need to listen to your heart again.” 

It took you a bit to come to, but when you did, you finally nodded in response. She placed the cold end of the stethoscope against your chest while securing the buds in her ears to listen to you.

“This, combined with your lack of eating that caused the extremely low iron levels could have developed from your pregnancy. Although, I’m willing to bet they’ve been present your entire life. Certain instances can trigger them. Stress, severe anxiety, or pregnancy. In your case, dear, I’d say it’s all of the above. A bit of a trifecta, you could say. The ingredients for the perfect, terrifying storm.” 

“Jesus, mama," Josh breathed, his lips faintly brushed over your knuckles as he continued to hold your hand close to his face. “You have got to start taking care of yourself. I can’t stand to see you like this.”

You knew that. God, you knew that. It had always been easier said than done. But it was no longer all about you anymore; the moment the life began growing within you, it gave you a newfound motivation to take care of yourself for the little life you were now responsible for.

“What other testing needs to be done?” You asked. You were hesitant of what her answer would be, but if it provided a step in the right direction towards becoming the healthiest version of yourself that you could possibly be, you were all ears.

“There’s a specific test, a tilt table test, that must be done to provide us with a little more insight to the specifics of your case. However, it’s not safe to perform it while you're pregnant,” she explained. “So for now, I’m just going to send in for a heart monitor that will be delivered to your house in the next week or so. You’ll wear it for four weeks and that'll give us plenty of information in the meantime. I’m also going to refer you to one of the best cardiologists we have on staff here.”

A heart monitor? That sounded utterly terrifying to you. 

“I am also going to insist that you keep track of your hemoglobin levels daily,” she continued. “You can also buy your own blood pressure cuff to partner with the hemoglobin kit we have set to deliver at your doorstep. You should be able to apply your insurance to the purchase of the blood pressure cuff, if you decide to include that step as well,” Stevens took a deep breath before going on. “Keep a daily journal to log your numbers. Just a notebook to track your blood pressure and hemoglobin levels. It’s vital that you do these things, y/n. Fainting like this can not be a normal occurrence. It’s not good for you or the baby.” When she spoke next, you felt your heart leap into your throat. “The lasting effects on you or the fetus could be life threatening if you’re not careful. . . could be terribly detrimental to the baby’s development—specifically his or her little body or brain development.”

Life threatening. Detrimental. Baby’s development. Little body or brain development.

You heard your heart rate go up on the monitor, but you weren’t about to freak yourself out any further by looking at the changing numbers. You literally felt your pulse quicken and your breath become shallow in your throat as you struggled to take full breaths.

Focus on the now. Focus on what is real. What is right now. Baby is not in trouble yet. 

You have time.

You brought a thumb and middle finger up to your temple, rubbing away furiously to relieve the oncoming headache that had been simmering at the surface for the past several minutes. Your other hand found its home on your swollen belly.

It was all so overwhelming–staggering, really, and you weren’t prepared for any of it in the slightest. 

But, then again, how would someone prepare? You felt as if you were living in a brand new body, much different from the one you’d lived your whole life in up to this point. There was so fucking much out of your control and unknown. It was all pushing down, heavily, on your already-tense shoulders.

“Relax, mama,” Josh sensed your tension, and knowing you as well as he did, he knew it was time to start helping you articulate the right questions. He brushed his thumb across the back of your hand as he calmly asked, “What do we need to do if her numbers aren’t. . . normal? What are some measures we can take to get them to where they need to be?” 

The fact that he was willing to stand alongside you during this whole thing, that he wanted to, it was such a comforting thing to know at this moment. Not that you had any doubt in your mind, but hearing him say something as simple as ‘we’. . . it just warmed your heart completely. 

“Lots of fluids,” she answered through a sincere smile. “And an increase in your salt intake to help your body maintain those fluids.” She handed you yet another sheet and sat back down next to you, looking you in the eye with a stern, motherly expression. “That should help you out with foods to eat and fluids to drink, in addition to the sheet from earlier. But, honey, you need to change your diet. It’s essential that you incorporate healthy eating habits at this point in your pregnancy. After you’ve gotten your body accustomed to the bland foods on the other list I’ve supplied you, you need to start adding lots of iron heavy foods to your meals. Meats, leafy greens, rice. . . things of that nature.” She searched your eyes, hers kind and knowledgeable from years in the field. “Alright?”

You nodded your head in confirmation, wondering how the hell you were going to make that happen with the way normal food left you utterly disgusted at the present time. 

“We’ll make sure of that, doc,” Josh responded in your place, throwing a wink at you as he knew damn well how horrible your food aversions had been. 

“M-my therapy,” you found your voice. “It’s going to be intense. It will cause my body stress.” Dr. Stevens looked at you quizzically before you went on, “It’s called EMDR therapy. Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing; although, I’m sure you’ve heard of it in your profession. I don’t know all of the logistics yet, but I know it’s not a conventional form of therapy. What do I do if I wish to continue that? Should I continue it?”

“It should be safe, as long as you make sure to have a thorough discussion with your therapist after each session. That is dire in helping your body and your mind process it all in a healthy manner. In order to have a healthy body, you must also take care of your mind, especially in those circumstances. I do want you to consult with your therapist over how much stress you’ll be able to handle at any given time. Don’t let your mind go too far. If you have a good therapist, they’ll know the signs if you’ve had enough, though, don’t be afraid to tell them.” 

If there was one thing you did know about all this uncertainty, it was that you could trust Gia to not lead you astray, or towards anything that would be detrimental to your mental health. 

Dr. Stevens smiled, her clipboard once again tight in her grip before she stepped further to the curtained room you were shielded by. “Do you have any more questions?” 

Josh glanced at you, waiting for you to say anything or waiting for you to communicate something for him to say on your behalf. You were sure you had questions, but you were just fucking flooded with stress to the point that all you wanted to do was sleep. . . just ready to get home.

Also, seeing as it was an emergency room, the idea was to get patients in and out. Wasn’t supposed to be the length of a standard visit. 

You’d taken up too much of her time.

So, you shook your head at Josh and then looked to Dr. Stevens to tell her no thank you.

And when you did, you glanced down at the name on her coat and the name of the hospital stitched into the white fabric. You hadn’t even noticed. . . .  Cedars-Sinai.

Same hospital I’ll have the baby at, if all goes according to plan, you suddenly realized, the thought bringing you a weird sense of peace. And it will go according to plan.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Josh went about gathering up all of the documents that had been handed to you and the prenatal pills provided as a nurse came in to disconnect all of your tubes and shit. He'd waited outside the curtain. and asked the nurse a few more questions as you'd changed back into your clothes.

And on the ride home, he’d put on peaceful music over the speaker of the car. He was used to doing it when you rode in his car as you hated riding in it. But tonight? Tonight you found comfort in the hunk of creaking metal. 

Because it meant you were going home. 

When you got home, Josh helped you up to the apartment and went about opening the front door and setting up your bed for you. All while you brushed your teeth, pulled up your hair that smelled like hospital, and changed into your comfiest PJs. 

Just as he’d tucked you in and was about to leave, you pulled on his hand and begged for him to stay. You really didn’t want to be alone for the night, mumbling as much to him. 

So, like the perfect friend he was, he set up a pallet on the floor as you tossed him a pillow from your bed. 

And to your solace, sleep found you as soon as your head hit the satin of your pillowcase. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 14, 2022

Every Monday being your therapy day was honestly the perfect way to start your week. You’d decided that on the way to the counseling practice on the chilly November afternoon of your second appointment.

You already knew it would be like it had been before. Before, (on your first and only other visit before today’s) it had just felt like a breath of fresh air to talk to a licensed professional like Gia. She was just fucking amazing. And you knew every week would be like before: a fresh start with a confidant who could give you killer fucking advice. A little date of sorts with a licensed professional who was positively eager to help you get through your week (life, generally) the best you possibly could.

Well, at least your therapist was eager to do that. 

Even as you sat on her trendy, camel-colored leather couch for your second appointment, you felt completely comfortable and at ease with Gia. She had already become one of your favorite people. 

You’d spent the first thirty minutes or so filling her in on telling Josh, your first prenatal exam (also showed her the sonogram pictures, which she’d loved), and the emergency visit. No details had been spared and you made sure she had time to give you any advice or words of wisdom she deemed necessary. But she’d really just let you have the floor and talk. 

Once you wrapped up your scary details from the night of the E.R., handed over all of the documents you wanted to sort through with her, and talked through them until you felt more ease about all of the anemia and heart shit, she’d looked at you seriously. 

Pinned you with a stare, her eyes sparkling like emeralds as she thoughtfully assessed you. 

She sat down her tea, and then wheeled herself over to you. Her oversized sweater was a turtle neck that matched the color of her couch, and the too-long sleeves of it touched your hands as she grasped them loosely in her hands. “Y/n,” she began, peering at you openly through her circular, wire framed-lenses, “We do not have to do EMDR. I want to remind you, it is entirely up to you if you choose to go that route. If you are fearful of it causing too much stress, I understand wanting to venture down another therapeutic route.”

“No,” you shook your head, a small smile curled the corner of your lips to reassure her. “I want to do it. I believe it’s what will work best to get to the heart of things. Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she agreed, brow knitted. “I just don’t want you to feel any unnecessary stress during this vulnerable time in your life.”

“As long as you promise to help me wrap it all up with a good talk at the end of each appointment,” you suggested with hope evident in your tone. “To wrap it up as much as we can for me to make it through the week.”

She grinned. “I can do that,” she affirmed with one certain nod, her loose bun, full of her soft blonde hair bounced with the action. “Did the doctor recommend continuing it?”

“Yep. Said it shouldn’t be an issue if we manage to discuss it all at the end of each session,” you offered. “Doesn’t want me carrying around anything unresolved that could make my stress levels increase.”

“Well, that’s definitely doable,” she confirmed with a wide grin. Scooting back, she grabbed her tea from the repurposed desk in the corner of her office before propping her ankle on top of her bent knee. “So, if you do wish to continue with EMDR, I’ll go ahead and explain it a little better than I have yet.”

“I do,” you said as a final agreement. “What should I know before we start?”

So, Gia proposed EMDR and all of the benefits that could come from the specific form of therapy. You listened to every detail readily. Were you scared? Yes. Were you anxious to begin? Also yes. It was intriguing and a little exciting to be so close to finally diving deep into the curves and corners of your mind and memories. 

Once she’d finished with that, she was rolling her chair back over to you and placing her elbows on the ends of her thighs as she bent to talk intimately with you. When she spoke, the smell of spearmint on her breath was oddly calming. “There’s something I feel I should mention before we begin. A bit of a warning that you should heed. Some clients experience this, some don’t. But something to be aware of, nonetheless.” 

Your eyes widened at her use of the word ‘warning,’ and her sudden change in tone made you believe this was something a little more serious. You knew there were risks involved with this somewhat unconventional form of therapy, but you hadn’t let yourself delve into all of them just yet. You had tried your best to leave the ball in Gia’s court to explain it all to you. 

And you knew that anything deemed risky, Gia would let you know of them before you agreed. Any online research wouldn't be nearly as viable as it would be coming straight from Gia’s mouth. 

Still yet, your heart beat just a little faster in preparation for whatever she had to tell you.

Deep breaths, y/n.

“Tell me,” you asserted. In search of some extra comfort, you placed a hand on your belly, the pulse vibrating in your palm also immediately triggered the fear in you that your heart was possibly over exerting itself.

Deep. Breaths. Gia’s got this. She won’t let you do anything too risky to your health. She wouldn’t let you.

“Some people report experiencing rather intense flashbacks that can come unannounced. And when I say intense, I truly mean just that, y/n. If they come, they can be debilitating.” 

This was the first you had seen her eyes downturned, a picture of worry painted within her emerald green irises. “There have also been accounts of severe nightmares—well, more along the lines of night terrors. The kind that can wake you up in a panic. I just want you to be aware of these possibilities before we begin. I need you to promise me right now, that if these things do happen, you’ll call me. I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the night or the middle of the day, you have to call me, and I will answer.” 

Middle of the day? They could come then, too? Shit.

“Is it. . .  really that serious?” You took a moment to ponder your question, not entirely sure what to make of it all just yet. (And you couldn’t help but wonder if Jake found out about these little occurrences during his research before bringing the idea up to you.)

“It can be,” she noted with a stern tone that sent yet another wave of anxiety through your tense muscles. “That’s why I need you to make me that promise. That isn’t something you should ever experience alone. As I said, it can be debilitating.”

Your mind began turning furiously with the thought of having to experience flashbacks. Would they be flashbacks to things you already remembered? Or worse. . . things you didn’t? Both?

If you were being honest with yourself, you knew the answer and it was honestly terrifying to you.

For a split second, you started to doubt whether or not this was the right solution for you. But, you couldn’t deny any longer that you did need the help. You had to be better. For you and for the life that was growing inside of you. The baby needed a healed mother. 

And you knew Gia was the perfect person to guide you through it. You trusted her, and that was something that has never come easily for you. 

“I’ll admit,” you began, still holding tight to your belly, reminding yourself of the growing reason why you needed to do this. “I’m nervous. But I still want to do it. I promise I’ll call you when— if— that happens. . . but, what if you’re not available?”

“Don’t be nervous. You’ve got this.” She flashed you her sparkling white teeth in a smile that put your spirit right back at ease. “And I do my best to answer. It’s my job as your therapist to see you through this. Some don’t take it as seriously as I do, but I know that you’ll need me in your corner and I’m happy to be there. I signed up for this, just like you did,” she grinned, once again using her feet to scoot her back to her desk, in her plush, light pink chair. “But, on the off chance I’m not able to answer, I would immediately contact someone you trust to see you through it. Hold you. Talk to you. Just be there with you. Whatever you need. Someone who would be willing to do that.” She opened her laptop before turning to you, an idea seeming to spark in her mind. “As a matter of fact, before our next session, why don’t you make it your assignment to think of the person you’ll go to in situations like that? Just one person for now and if you think of more, then double whammy.”

She winked, and you just sent a barely-there grin back to her in response. As she went about clicking open tabs on her computer, you knew you didn’t need until next session to think of your person. 

Because as soon as she started talking about that person, you were back in the hallway of your grandparents’ home – right outside your bedroom. And the person next to you right then and there. . . he was the one you wanted with you if the terrors hit. 

Not Josh. Not even Elsie. 

But Jake. 

Would he be okay with that though? Would it be worth asking him?

Gia was once again speaking as she clicked through a few buttons on her laptop. “Y/n? You okay, love?” 

You looked up, finding her eyes waiting for yours. “Oh–oh, yeah,” you stretched your lips to make the best smile you could. “Just being an overachiever and already brainstorming my person to contact.”

She hummed, giving you a sneaky smirk. “Does it happen to be a certain roommate of yours?”

Eyes bugging, you were shocked that she’d guessed. But were you really? She sorta kinda (definitely) knew the depths of your heart. She'd probably known who you’d want to pick as soon as you'd known it. 

Nodding sheepishly, you decided to ask, “Is that a bad idea?”

“I don’t believe so,” she assured. “From what you’ve told me about him, he seems like a pretty good guy and I think he’d be more than willing to help you if you needed him.”

“Really?”

“Really. It’s also super convenient because he lives with you,” she insisted with a final wink before she said, “Anything I might’ve forgotten will be in the PowerPoint I’m about to send to your email. But, I’ve gotta say, I’ve done it enough times with enough clients, I think I’ve covered every base for today.” A few beats of silence passed before she triumphantly pressed a button. “Aaand, sent!” 

Then, wheeling back over to you, her pristinely white Nikes made the smallest squeak on the stained concrete floor of her office. “Okay, so today,” she began. “How are we feeling?”

“Really good,” you confidently responded, wiping your palms against your leggings before a true smile fit to your features. “When will we start?”

“I think next session we will find your safe place,” she said with a raise of her brow. “I will explain what I mean by ‘safe place’ next time, and directly after, we will send you there. Try not to worry about it until then, okay?” She requested, eyes searching yours for an answer. To which, you nodded. She continued with a grin. “For today, I want to call it quits with the EMDR talk. . . Let you rest. Unless. . . you have any questions, of course. . . .”

You wracked your brain, and when you couldn’t think of anything immediately, you told her you didn’t have any questions. 

“Come with some next time if you think of any. And, my email is always open in between visits if needed–even if it’s just a minor inquiry you have,” she reminded. “Oh! And I’m not sure if I mentioned this yet. . . but, if we need to ever schedule an emergency visit over Zoom or in the office. . . that is also always, always on the table. I know that these things get heavy, and I want to be here for you through all of it, y/n.”

“Got it.”

Although, something did come to your mind as you were both standing to leave the session. You hadn’t given the question much thought in your own mind (shockingly). It had entered your wave of thought the day of your first prenatal appointment. When you’d asked Josh. 

But since then, your mind had been too preoccupied with everything else that had recently happened that this thought had been put on the backburner. 

But, you were curious what her opinion was on the matter, now that it had resurfaced. 

Right before she opened the door, delicate hand on the handle, you grew sweaty. But you needed to ask the question, because if you didn’t do it now, it would be tormenting you until next Monday. 

So, you asked her the same question you’d asked Josh.

“When should I tell Jake about the baby?”

She turned her shoulder, her eyes stern when she responded. “Soon. . . sooner rather than later. Just focus on what is real.”

Sooner rather than later. . . same exact words Josh had said.

-🌼🌼🌼-

It had been a long day of classes and the short shift at the Black and Gold after your classes had completely wiped you out. 

When you got home, all you’d wanted to do was take a nap to sleep off the exhaustion from the short day. Before pregnancy, you wouldn’t be hitting a wall so early in the day, but now that you were, you could hardly function after going nonstop for more than a few hours. 

Your body was functioning in overdrive, trying to produce enough energy to sustain two lives. . . and you were still getting used to it. Honestly, you weren’t sure you would ever get used to it.

But before your nap. . . you wanted to take some time to release some of the soreness in your changing body with a warm shower. You were sure to grab a towel from the dryer because, even though you knew Jake wasn’t supposed to be home for a few hours, you still didn’t want to risk him seeing you. The idea of him seeing any slight changes on your body made you cringe. You weren’t sure if you felt comfortable in your body yet, so you definitely didn’t want him seeing it. 

There was also the enormous, glaring factor of him seeing the changes and realizing what was going on. You really still just looked bloated (albeit very, very bloated). . . but you had a feeling that he would catch on. He’d gotten very used to what your body looked like for the better part of the summer, so you could see him noticing your stomach protruding more than it ever did before. 

He’d know. . . you just had a feeling.

After a day of trying to wear regular jeans, you’d decided it was a bad idea to wear your normal sized jeans anymore. The tight waistband had cut into your abdomen all day and squeezed you like a motherfucker. Thankfully, there’d been a lull in customers before the end of your shift, and the oversized sweater you’d worn had provided enough coverage for you to unbutton the jeans when you were alone in the store. 

But when you finally got to take them off, you breathed a sigh of relief to be out of the confines of the stiff clothing. And the big, fluffy sweater had gotten to be too warm by the end of your shift, so taking that off had also been extremely relieving as well. 

After you’d tied your hair back and heated the shower a little cooler than your usually steaming hot showers, you had to get used to the temperature as you stood and lathered up your belly, giving yourself your daily time to just observe how it was growing. Ever since your visit to the E.R., you’d become more conscientious of how it was growing.

You were new to this pregnancy thing. You didn’t know if it meant your baby was okay or not if your belly wasn’t growing at a certain rate.

To your utter relief, over the past few days, you had finally been able to eat more–following the lists of food Dr. Stevens had given you. You occasionally got nauseous, but the puking had limited significantly with the suggested bland, healthier foods and constant Ginger Ale (which you’d actually found much more delicious and helpful to your twisty stomach than Sprite). 

Then there were the Preggie Pops and the heaven-sent PregEase: both of which had been fucking life savers. (Both stayed safely locked away in your room, on a shelf in your closet, right next to where you’d pinned the sonogram pictures.)

Once you’d let the quick shower relax your muscles exactly like you’d needed, you took your time drying off. And once you’d washed your face and changed into bike shorts and a giant t-shirt, you weren’t so tired as before. So, you’d settled into the couch with your phone, a book, a fluffy blanket, and a delicious bowl of sweet red peppers and pretzels.

It had become a go-to snack as of late. 

You were looking forward to finishing the steamy romance that had popped up on your BookTok a few weeks back, but you wanted to look into BookTok reviews for the second book in the series before you finished the first. Just to prepare yourself. 

Though, when you opened your TikTok app, you didn’t look into the book. No, instead, you found your fingers searching ‘13 weeks pregnant’. You wanted to see how other women looked at this point in the game. You couldn’t help wanting to compare your progression to other women. It wasn’t a healthy course of action – you knew that. You just had to see. . . get an idea.

You saw a lot of videos of them talking about entering their second trimester. Which, like your Ovia app had already informed you today, you knew you had officially passed the first trimester. . . which was a massive thing to you. Passing the first trimester meant several exciting things. A few being: the chances of your baby surviving the pregnancy increased tenfold; the morning sickness started screeching to a halt (thank god); and you’d be able to find out the gender of your baby in a few short weeks.

Though, the other glaring thing at the front of your brain was how you needed to tell Jake. Because of the fact that you were already in your second trimester.

The main thing you were concerned about was staying healthy, though. . . you were really hoping you were doing okay at keeping yourself healthy; you needed your baby to be healthy. All of your numbers seemed to be getting back on the right track as you’d been tracking your hemoglobin for the past few days. It was all very comforting–-you felt better.

Just as you clicked on a video about symptoms at week 13, the front door opened to show Jake coming through. You quickly shut the app off and locked your phone, pretended to be reading as sweat accumulated in your arm and knee pits. (Lovely.) 

Though, you couldn’t help but turn your body to peek at him in his peacoat, with a scarf wrapped around his neck, and a beanie covering his ears. Much like he’d looked on the night of the macaroni and cheese and therapy talk. 

He had a little chill in his bones, it seemed, as he shook them out when taking off his coat and scarf. His hat was next, leaving his long hair staticky in its wake. He smoothed it back with one more chill before he was off to the counter, dropping off the mail and his keys. But he didn’t immediately go to his room. He went about opening a drawer, finding a pair of scissors and heading to the mail on the counter. 

You did notice a package now that you looked closer. And he was hurriedly going about cutting through the yellow protective packaging.

Out of nowhere, you decided to speak. No idea where it came from. Curiosity killed the cat was all you could come up with.

“Whatcha got there?” Whatcha got there? Okay, first of all, what the fuck?

He peered over at you, raising a brow before lifting the now-open package to display it to you. “New guitar part I ordered.”

“Oh,” you blinked, not sure what else you’d been expecting from him. Of course he wasn’t about to make pleasant conversation. Not when something had apparently climbed up his ass where you were concerned for the past several days. 

Once again, you were right back at square one at the most inopportune time. It made you question your idea to make him your go-to person for your expected night terrors. . . but you didn’t want to let go of the possibility yet. Not yet. 

“Have fun with that,” you offered, turning back around to the book you most definitely didn’t want to read at the present time. Instead, you took a nervous bite of a pepper. 

“Um, y/n,” he said your name with a question in his tone. “What the fuck is this?”

Your heart tripped over itself in your chest. What had he found? Without looking at him, you decided to just go ahead and get your ass off the couch to survey the situation. 

He was holding the box containing your heart monitor in his hands.

Fuck. You really didn’t want him to be privy to that part of your life. For whatever ridiculous reason, you were embarrassed by it. 

Deciding honesty was the best policy, you decided to just flat out tell him. “I went to the Emergency Room the other night,” you started. “And the doctor just wanted –.”

“The Emergency Room?!” His voice raised a decibel, obviously alarmed at the new information. “Wait . . . is that why Josh had to leave the bar–? The same night you were gone all night.”

“Wait. . .how do you know I was gone all night?”

“I live with you, y/n,” he scoffed, talking to you like you were an idiot. 

You felt your blood pressure rise, your heart beating in your ears. “Yes, Jake, I know this,” you matched his tone, the hormones working in your favor this time–making you angry rather than sad. “But why the fuck were you awake?”

“I was waiting for–,” he stopped, clearing his throat before starting over. He looked down, a crinkle in his brow. “I couldn’t sleep.”

He was waiting for. . . who? Waiting for. . . what? Your curiosity peaked, but you ignored it for the time being. 

“Well, not that you need to know, but yes. I was at the E.R. that night,” you explained. “Something happened that landed me there and it resulted in them wanting to track my heart activity. Nothing huge.”

And for once, you didn’t feel bad for lying to him. Your nerves were lit on fire with irritation towards him. 

He doesn’t need to know.

“You got a heart monitor in the mail,” he stated, not dropping the possible severity of the situation. "And you're saying it's nothing huge?"

Without a second thought, you were yanking the package from his hands. 

“It’s. not. your. business, Jacob,” you squeezed the package until the plastic wrap squeaked from the tight grip of your fingertips. Then, something else clicked. “Why the fuck were you not looking at the name on the package? Remember, like you said, you live with me. You know that not all of the shit that comes in the mail is yours.”

“I just wasn’t thinking–.”

“Kind of fucking invasive, Jake,” you interrupted hotly. “Don’t you think?”

“Well, it helped me to know something was wrong with your heart. You wouldn’t have told me if I hadn’t opened the package,” he argued back. 

“You didn’t need to know!” You said, your voice raising at the same speed as your blood pressure. “Still don’t!”

“But Josh sure as hell does, right?” He demanded, swinging his finger towards the door, his jaw clenching. “He needed to be your knight in shining fucking armor, huh?”

“Why the hell do you care?!” You fumed, the question exploding from your chest with the same emotion that had tears gathering in your eyes at the question. Angry tears. Confused tears. 

“I don’t!” He snapped, his beautiful, brown eyes, hard. His jaw, set and tight. 

His words sat in the air for a few minutes. Your stares were intertwined; swimming with tangled emotions. The air felt hot and heavy as it surrounded you. It was taut with newly spoken (and still unspoken) surmounting feelings and disequilibrium. Nostrils were flaring. Both of your chests heaved, the sound of his breathing mixed with yours in a way that made you want to slap and kiss his pursed lips.

You didn’t let yourself stand there much longer – needed to get away from him. Without speaking to him, you tore your eyes from his, gathered up your stuff from the couch, and tried to walk with as much dignity as you could to your room. 

Somehow, you were able to get the door open with your hands inexplicably full, and after you’d entered and before you could shut it behind you, you shot a glare his way. He was still watching you.

“Fuck you, Jake.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 17, 2022

The next night saw your ass in the shower again. 

Except this time, you were sitting in the tub, legs drawn to your chest as close as possible with your rounder tummy, and chin on your knees as you let the warm water soak you through. 

You’d already shaved and washed everything. So, now, you were just letting yourself be.

Your thoughts had been spinning since last night. So, in an effort to help your heart, you’d invited Josh over for a movie when Jake left to give lessons for the day. And, of course, he’d said yes without question. 

You’d spent the day drowning yourself in popcorn and Canada Dry (Josh surprised you with a new 12-pack when he’d arrived) as you’d watched all three Bridget Jones movies. Back to back to back. They weren’t Josh’s favorites, but he humored you by trying to indulge in the trilogy – even managing to laugh at the funny parts. 

Between movies, he’d let you cry on his shoulder. Or, intermittently, during the movies. . . By the time he’d left, your tears had positively stained the white long sleeve tee he was wearing. 

He didn’t ever ask what it was about – who it was about. And you never told him. But you knew he wasn’t oblivious to who caused your emotional episode.

Now he was gone. Had been for about an hour. And Jake wasn’t home yet. Not that you fucking cared. 

You’d meant it when you told him what you did. Fuck him.

Though, the devastating matter was that you couldn’t decide if you were more mad at yourself or him. Everyday was a replay of the day in the kitchen. And you were sure he replayed it everyday, too. . . and he was definitely allowed to feel hurt after the horrendous shit you’d thrown at him.

But what was with the back and forth? Hot and cold? How he’d been okay the night with the mac and cheese? How he’d spent his time researching therapy for you to try? How he’d been quick to defend your song to his girlfriend? 

And, just as quickly, he was snapping at you. Getting upset out of nowhere. Instantly angry with you when you’d come out of the bathroom at the bar. Getting pissed for no reason at you and Josh for sitting in the car. Telling you last night that he didn’t care about you. 

Was that true? Did he not? It fucking killed you if it was true. But you couldn’t blame him if he didn’t care. Why would he?

You took the moment to stretch your legs out in the shower, watching as the water painted your skin with droplet after droplet. Then, you looked down at your tummy, extra round after a day of pigging out. 

Placing a pruned hand on it, you looked down at the part of your body that housed your human. Surprisingly (not), tears clouded your voice as you spoke to it, rubbing the skin reassuringly. “I’m so sorry that your mommy and daddy are so fucked up.”

After letting a few tears fall to meet the tight, rounded skin of your tummy, you forced your legs to stand up. The feat was proven a little difficult as they’d fallen asleep, but you still managed. Regretfully, you’d turned the water off. You didn’t want to leave the shower but you were officially prune-y as hell.

And, as you gathered a towel to wrap up in, you realized you were also very fucking tired.

You carefully attached the heart monitor’s adhesive to your chest like the instruction manual (and multiple videos you’d watched) told you to, and followed it with the monitor itself. You then checked to make sure the phone you’d been given with the kit was ready to track what it needed.

Finding your phone on the counter after you’d washed your face and brushed your teeth, you decided Josh deserved a thank you after putting up with you the last several days.

Especially after you’d just rocked his motherfucking world . . . and he’d been so cool about it.

God, you just loved him.

You, 10:17 p.m.: I’m so glad I have you. I mean it from the bottom of my heart that I wouldn’t make it through this pregnancy without you. And your love and amazing fucking support. I’d be lost without you.

And after you sent it, you began towel drying your hair, then brushed through any tangles the best you could. 

When you heard a ding! sound from the living room, you spent a few minutes thinking it was your imagination. But when you heard it a second time, you realized it was most likely not in your head, and that Jake was home. 

So, checking your appearance once more, you wrapped the towel as tight as you could around your body before shutting the light off and opening the door. 

You glanced up to see if he was in fact home, and the sight that met you had you stop in your tracks. 

Josh’s white phone case with the little triangle symbol he’d drawn on it one day at the B&G. 

In Jake’s hands. 

Jake’s face, looking at the screen of said phone, mouth open in shock.

And as soon as you closed the door to the bathroom, the smallest sound of it shutting, made his eyes slowly slide up from the phone to your face.

He held the phone up, showing you just what he’d seen. Fuck. 

“You’re pregnant?”

You took a careful step forward, the blood in your veins frazzled and vibrating. Deny deny deny. As long as you can, y/n. “What gives you the right to be in Josh’s phone? Your invasiveness really knows no fucking bounds these days,” you clipped, voice shaking in spite of yourself.

He blinked a couple of times, a smile forming on his mouth. A wide, sarcastic one, which turned into an astounded scoff. “Really? That’s what we’re going to focus on right no–?” He shook his head, clicking the phone shut before taking a few cautious steps towards you. “His face I.D.; it opens to me. I’m his fucking identical twin.”

“Prove it,” you challenged. 

“Was already planning on it,” he snipped. And right in your line of sight, he opened the phone, putting his face in front of it. Then, it was turned to show you. The same tantalizing screen as before. “Proven.”

“Well. . .,” you faltered, scrambling. “Why did you have it?”

“It was laying on the counter. I went to grab it and my keys,” he jingled the keys in his other hand. “I was going to take it to him,” he explained, sounding exasperated and patient all at once. An anomaly. “But when I picked it up, I looked down, and it opened.”

He took two steps back, once again, holding the phone up to show you the text screen. The gray bubble had never looked so horrifying as it did in that moment. The sweat accumulating on your forehead proved your entire skin care routine pointless. You were shaking. Your skin felt like it was going to fall off from the vibrations taking over underneath it.

“Now,” he started slowly. “Will you answer my question, please?” 

His voice broke on the last word and it triggered a single tear to trickle down your cheek. 

“Yes, I am.”

“Whose?”

“Really, Jake?” You questioned, the question making your heart break. How could he–? 

His eyes went soft momentarily, pleading with you. “I just need to hear you say it, y/n.”

“It’s yours, Jake. The baby is yours. Who the fuck else?”

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: this monstrous chapter was a fucking doozy and you already know i wanna talk about it!! come to my asks and we shall chat <333

oh, but i'm just wondering........ what do you think reader's safe place will be? ;) a place? a person? both? hmmm....

ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts! love youuuu <3

& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)

Taglist: @joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssoloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend, @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98

(and, due to t*mblr’s shitass guidelines, i will be adding the other tags in a reblog of the story!)

[aspirationalpeony]

What She Deserves

Summary: Melissa hears a painful truth, and you're there to help her recover. Content Warnings: Unhealthy coping mechanisms, discussion of infidelity, emotional neglect, emotional abuse, disordered eating. Don't worry, it's all hurt/comfort! AO3 Link

You come home one day, and she's crying.

There were warnings when you entered the house: Her high-heeled Docs, discarded sloppily like she'd yanked them off right in the doorway. The open bottle of wine and the lipstick-smeared glass on the low table in front of the plastic-covered couch, a stack of photo albums just by them, a few opened and in disarray. Her leather jacket thrown right onto the carpeted floor. You knew there was something going on--a bad day with the double class? A fight with Barbara?--and you squared your shoulders as you went up the stairs.

You weren't, aren't, ready for what you hear. You've never heard her cry like that, in real, deep sobs, body-wracking things that must be shaking her to the roots. You find yourself hovering outside the bedroom door, just listening for long, awful seconds, trying to understand it, that that sound could be coming from Melissa. And knowing, because you know her, that she doesn't want you to hear this. That there'll be a fight if you go in that room. No matter how desperate she is to be held and comforted--first, there'll be a fight.

It's how she's always been. Your tears turn her buttery-soft, gentle and sweet, her rough edges showing only when she offers to beat the shit out of whoever's hurt you. But her tears? Her tears are a vulnerability. And Mel--she can't stand being vulnerable. When she knows she's showing weakness, that there's a chance someone, anyone, even you, could go in for the kill, her claws come out, twice as long and sharp.

(She told you, one time, about her dad; how Kristen-Marie's tears would make him do anything to soothe her, turning the gruff, remote man into a teddy bear, cradling his baby girl in his arms. How Melissa's tears would turn him mean, how she was the eldest, she was supposed to take care of her family, and here she was howling and whining like a pathetic pissant baby, and she should go help her Nana with dinner and her siblings with their homework and stop bothering her dad, who worked so hard, sunup to sundown, to provide for this fuckin' family, and don't fuckin' touch me again, Melissa Ann.)

You're getting to be okay with it. She's getting to be better with it, too, which helps. But you know this isn't going to be a time she can reel herself in and catch that anger before it flares. You need to be there for her. You open the door.

She's at her vanity table. You love that she has one of those things; it's so Old Hollywood, covered in the skincare and makeup that didn't fit into her bathroom, a secret stash of gummy bears in one drawer, a picture of her and her Nana, framed, where she can look at it whenever she needs her. You love that picture, Melissa looking so terribly young, her hair still dark and undyed, her Nana with those green Schemmenti eyes and a look of profound love and pride on her aged face.

When she hears the door creak open, Melissa whips around to look at you. She's not that girl in the photo anymore, but you see shades of her in her crumpled, flushed, tear-stained face; you see that woman, young and hurt and afraid, behind the armor that she's been building for so long, layer on layer.

"Baby," you say.

"Fuck off," she barks at you. You wince. She winces, too, hearing herself; her brows knit and her head ducks and she trembles as she fights another sob. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I--" her voice is hoarse. "Babe, fuck, just go," she whines, sounding like somebody else, some scared, struggling stranger. "Just go, I don't, I don't--" you can hear so many ends to that sentence: I don't want you to see me like this. I don't want to hurt you just because I'm hurting. I don't want you to know how vulnerable I am.

"Hey," you say, "it's okay, it's okay," like she's a hurt kid or a shying horse, and every instinct in you calls for you to put your arms around her, pull her to your chest the way she does you when you cry. Instead, you move closer--slowly--and you sit with her. You get down on the floor, maybe a foot from her chair, and you don't touch her. She looks at you with her mouth twisted and eyes narrowed. Tears are still trickling from her reddened eyes; her body is shaking with it.

You want to cradle her face in your hands. You've learned she can't take it, not when she's in the middle of the feeling; she can't stand being touched at all. She has to get the emotions out in their first, horrible frenzy, and then she can let herself be comforted, once the frightened, angry, hurt little girl inside has let go of the wheel and let the grown woman take back over.

Her hands are fists on her thighs. There's something crumpled in one of them, a paper.

"Baby, what happened?" you say.

"You should just fuck off," she says hoarsely. "You should just fuck off outta my life. You're gonna, anyway, so--" her face pinches. She fights another sob that shakes her whole body. Her mascara is a wreck. "I'm gonna hurt you," she says, "and you're gonna hurt me, and I can't take it. I can't take it, so, so--"

"What happened?" You lean forward. A little glimmer of intuition comes. Your own eyes are starting to tear up, seeing her, but your head stays level. You can't get whipped up into her pain or you won't be able to help. "Did Joe do something?"

Now she lets the sob out, deep and hoarse. Her clenched fist opens and the paper drops. You recognize it once its face is turned up on the floor: it's a photo from one of the old albums she still keeps, one of the loving records she'd made of a marriage that failed. She let you look through them a few times. ("I don't keep them 'cause I want him back or nothin'," she'd told you. "He can drop dead, for all I care. But I..." A cloud passed over her face then, troubled and sad, and you didn't push; you knew she was giving you a privilege letting you see her like this, much less look at these mementos of a young woman desperate to be loved.)

The photo is her and Joe cutting the cake at their wedding. It's a four-tier monstrosity, probably made by a Schemmenti relative, with thick frosted swags and rosettes and topped with a hokey little bride and groom. Mel's in her big puff-shouldered princess dress, her huge eighties hair and thick makeup. Joe's got a five o'clock shadow and looks like hell from his bachelor party the night before. She's told you how hurt and lonely she was that day, even though she's smiling in all the pictures; how she starved herself, ate one meal a day and drank nothing but water, getting ready to fit into her dress, and he rolled out of bed an hour before the wedding, hungover, stifling burps through the ceremony.

"What happened?" you repeat.

"Nina called," she says.

You straighten. "Are they getting married?" It would make sense: the tears, the photo, the terror of being left again. That sack of shit Joe, you're going to take Edith Houghton and--

"What? No," she says, so startled by the suggestion she's speaking in her own voice again, not the one hoarse and strained by tears. "No, they're not--no." Her other hand opens in her lap and she looks down at the pair of them. You can see her trying to make herself relax, make herself stop crying and shouting. "Sorry, baby," she whispers, "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt ya. I didn't mean..."

"I know." If you took Melissa at her word every time she cursed, well... "I'm not fucking off anywhere. Can you tell me what happened?"

She gives you a look, harrowed and bruised, then drops her gaze back to her hands. She opens and closes her fingers, working on herself still. "Nina called. I was still at the school. She called to thank me for dinner," she says roughly. "And she said she had to tell me somethin'. She said..."

No marriage. Your next thought is, Oh my god, she's pregnant. That's one of the sorest subjects of Melissa's whole life, and if Nina had the audacity to tell Melissa that over the phone, while she was at work, to deliver such crushing, awful--where's Edith Houghton, you really are going to--

"She thanked me for dinner," Melissa repeats. She's getting more control and tips her head back against the welling of tears in her eyes, like it will save her makeup now. She's staring at the ceiling when she says, "Nina said she had somethin' to tell me, because she knew you and me, and her and Joe, all of us, were gettin' closer, like bein' friends."

That's true. You aren't so crazy about the Joe you know from Melissa's stories, but apparently he's a changed man now, and you can still see shades of the guy Melissa liked so much: his silver head of hair still full and sleek, his trim, Selleckian mustache, his way with a grin and a laugh. You like Nina better than him, a woman about twenty years his junior, tough and smart with arms covered in tattoos. You've never pointed out that she's like a different shade of Mel, a version that Joe hasn't had time to hurt, although you've had the thought many times.

Last week all four of you had gathered at Mel's for dinner. Melissa refused to cook--she'd never cook for Joe again, she told you privately, not after all the housekeeping and nannying and babying she did in their marriage--but you all got takeout and sat around the table and talked and laughed, openly, comfortably, the way friendly couples do, and you could believe that all that history was far behind them, that there was a future where Joe and Mel could admit to their scars and what they'd inflicted on each other, and be brothers-in-arms, veterans of the fight, not soldiers on opposing sides.

"Nina said," Melissa says, and wipes away a tear. "She said they were together. While me'n'Joe were still married."

You stare. "What?"

"They were together," she repeats. "They've been lyin', this whole time. 'Bout when they met. It was way before the divorce. He was fuckin' her on the side." Her lips pinch together and her mouth twists. She stares at the ceiling like the answer to it all is up there and fiercely bats away another tear. "I..." You watch her. Her throat works as she tries to get words together. "Nina said she couldn't keep lyin' to me. That she always felt awful about it. And now I got you and she likes ya and wants things to be fair, for us to... To choose our friends right, and..."

You've always had an impression of Nina as like Mel in this way, too--as rough, but fundamentally decent. Prone to a little lie here, a little sleight-of-hand there, but not enough to really hurt somebody, never playing games where it really mattered. What's awful is that this sounds like her all over, that single-minded sense of fairness, a toughness inside that made her willing to face the music, to blow up this burgeoning friendship if it meant being honest.

"Baby," you say softly, and inch closer on the floor. It's enough. The wall crumbles. Melissa slides straight off the chair onto the floor with you, practically into your lap, and her whole body sways into your arms. You take her, you hold her. She shakes in your grip, crying, still, though no longer those sobs that seemed to scour her from the inside out. You carefully stroke her hair back from her face as she clings to your encircling arms, and you ride it out together.

She comes back from it slowly, stilling, relaxing into you. Then she hiccups, in a loud, distinct hic, and instantly leans back to give you an accusing look, daring you to laugh. She hiccups again. It makes you smile. You touch her red, damp cheek, brushing your thumb against its flushed curve. "It's okay," you tell her. She hiccups. "I'm going to get you some water. You wanna sit on the bed?"

When you come back, she's not on the bed; she's back at the vanity. She's scrupulously wiping her makeup off with little micellar pads, lips still pinched like she's trying not to cry, leaning close to the mirror to make sure she's getting it all. You sit on the edge of the mattress with water in one hand and ibuprofen in the other, waiting, and when she's done, she turns to accept your offerings, her eyes lowered, a little shamefaced.

"C'mon," you say when she's knocked the pills back. "C'mere." She gets up and joins you, crawling right to the middle of the bed, and you crawl after her, settling on your back so that she can curl into the protective curve of your arm. You look down at her face--her long nose with its cute, turned-up snub at the end, the lashes shielding her reddened green eyes, the mark at the corner of her mouth that records every smile and frown--and you don't get it. You don't get why Joe is... Joe. And why he did what he did.

More's going to come, you know that. The air's heavy with it. Finally Melissa starts to talk. She stares across the room while she does it, your hand stroking her hair.

"I knew he was cheatin'," she says. "I think he was bonin' some of the other firefighters' wives. And he probably would go out and pick some girls up, too, some, y'know, whoever he could get his hands on, right. At that point, it was, what, the last few years, and I wasn't puttin' out, so. I mean, I'd blow him, to get him off my back, but not the real thing."

"That doesn't mean it was your fault."

She doesn't answer that. Instead, she says, "I didn't think any of 'em were serious. Like, that it was an affair affair, you know. Like that made it better. Anyhow..." She presses more closely into you. You're sure she can hear your heartbeat, and you feel it as she tries to steady her breathing to match you. "Nina said it was happenin' the last year," she says. "The very last year he and I were married. Funny thing is, I was tryin' to make it work."

You've seen photos from that time in her life. You know what trying to make it work entailed for her: back on the one-meal-a-day diet, trying to get her menopausal body back to a twenty-five-year-old's slimness; the brightening of her hair to fire-engine red, trying to be enough to catch his eye; the clothes she wore, trying to turn herself girly, like her princess-gown wedding dress had been so girly, and so unlike her. Oh, she's always feminine, Melissa--luxuriously, wonderfully feminine--but not girly, pink and wispy, delicate. Not like she tried to make herself for Joe.

"What was it all for?" she says wonderingly, voicing your own thought aloud. "What did I do all that shit for, baby? He was already fucking her. He already... Loved her." Her voice is hollow and lonely. You think of that story about her dad, what he told her, again and again, all her life, about her role in the world, about who she was. You're supposed to take care of this family. You're supposed to give up everything. You're supposed to give us what we want, we're supposed to have our cake and eat it, too, and fuck you if you try to keep even a crumb for yourself. He probably never said it as plainly as that, but it was what he meant.

"S'what I get," she says, very softly, almost to herself; it's a child's voice, meek and small, from that place deep inside where she's forever the self-loathing little girl, crying alone in the kitchen. "S'what I deserve."

"No." Her eyes flick up to yours. "You don't deserve that. You did it all because you cared about him," you say, petting the soft hair at Mel's temple. "Because you loved him. There's nothing wrong with that. That's not shameful." Her eyes dart away. You know you've caught a little bit of what's dragging on her--the shame. The shame of giving up everything for a man who didn't know her favorite color, her favorite ice cream flavor; of sacrificing her dream of a real home, a baby, the life she'd always imagined, for somebody who'd turn around and stick his dick in God knew how many other women.

"I hate him," you confide in her softly. She doesn't quite smile, but the corners of her eyes crinkle tenderly like she feels the smile inside. "I hate him so much." You echo her promises from all the times your roles were reversed, your tear-wrung body cradled in her arms: "You want me to beat the shit out of him?"

"Yeah," Melissa says at once, "please." She sniffles, then hiccups. "Jesus." Her head lolls against your chest. Her arm drapes over your waist and pulls you tight against her. "I really liked her," she says softly, into the quiet room. "That's... What fuckin' sucks about it, huh? I liked her, and I... I was likin' him again. He was my best friend, before you'n'Barb. And I... Wanted my friend back."

"It's okay." You scratch your nails gently against her scalp, tracing the sensitive skin at her nape. "It's okay you wanted him back, as your friend. You can still care about him. About both of them. And be angry, and hate them, even though you care, and not talk to them for a long time. What you feel is okay."

She takes a deep, shuddering breath. You wonder if she's ever heard those words before. If Joe or anyone else in her life has embraced this chaos of contradictions, this woman so full of passion that she can't help but feel, all of it, everything at once. That's why she's so tough, you know. Because despite it all--her shitty dad, her vicious sister, her awful ex, and everyone in between--she never lost that thing they all zeroed in on, that weakness. She never lost that sensitive, loving heart. She had to protect it; no one else would do it for her.

Now you can. Now you will. You lean down and kiss the top of her head. She hiccups.

"You want me to run you a bath?" you ask. Her head bobs against your shoulder in a little nod. You give her another kiss and start to extract yourself from her arms. She rolls into the warm space left by your body as you enter the en-suite.

You love Melissa’s bathroom, same way you love the vanity table. It’s an extension of herself, a little bit organized and a little bit chaos: hair care and skincare products on every available surface, eyeliners worn down to a nub, her perfume, her lip gloss. Tucked into the edge of the mirror, wrinkled from long exposure to the steam of her baths and showers, are two pictures. One is herself and Barbara at Barb’s sixtieth birthday party. “We looked like a whole meal,” Mel told you frankly when you asked about it. They’re both in dresses that cling to the generous curves of their bodies, heads tilted together, wearing mirror smiles and a shade of red lipstick that’s nearly the same. It washes you with tenderness to see it.

The other picture is her and you. The guy she dated before you tried to take her to Dave & Buster’s on a first date, so of course, you two had to go. It’s a strip of photos from an automated booth, the two of you in outrageous poses: her pretending to take a bite out of your cheek in one, your tongues lolling and eyes crossed in another. In the last photo, the camera’s just caught you looking at her, eyes full of love, while she’s squinting over her glasses at the lens, trying to tell if it’s taking the next picture.

You start the bath running. You make sure it’s hot as hell, just the way she likes it, and add a judicious amount of the first body wash you grab, letting the water churn it into bubbles. A shuffle and a rattle behind you; it’s Mel in the doorway. “Hey, baby,” you say. She looks like shit, which you don’t mention. “It’s filling up. Here, I’ll let you relax.”

“Stay with me,” she says.

You sit next to the tub while she lowers herself into the water. Her clothes are a messy pile on the floor; you pull them toward yourself and start folding them, piece by piece, making her roll her eyes affectionately. She tips her head back against the edge of the tub and looks at you, and you feel yourself prickling with the focus of that gaze.

"What are you thinkin'?" she asks at last, quietly.

"I'm thinkin'," you echo, rubbing the fabric of her silky pink blouse between your fingers, "that you're tired, and I'm tired, so in a little bit, I'll order some dinner." Maybe Indian? You've learned never to get Italian with Melissa; everything's scrutinized, down to the texture of the breadcrumbs. "Then I'll wrap you up in your bathrobe. We'll watch a movie..." You move on to her jeans. They're still warm from her body. You smile a little to yourself as you tidy them into a small square. "A Paul Newman movie." Her favorite. "And drink wine. And then you're going to go to bed. And you're not grading anything tonight, okay? And I'll hold you until you fall asleep."

"What are you thinkin'?" you ask, and look at her. What you see makes you straighten your spine, makes you feel spotlit and strange.

She's staring. She looks... How can you describe it? Unsmiling, but not unhappy; tender, but not amorous; vulnerable, but not afraid. She looks... Wonderstruck.

She reaches out with one small hand and her manicured nails brush your cheek gently. "I think I never been taken care of the way you take care of me," she says. Her thumb brushes your lower lip. "Thank you, baby. I..." You see the questions in her green eyes, the sensitivity and confusion: How did this happen? Will I get to keep this? What will happen to me when it's taken away?

"I'll always take care of you," you promise her, voice soft. You dip your head and kiss the pad of her thumb. Kiss her palm, making her sigh. You take her hand in yours and she squeezes hard. You make her a soft promise, one you know she's never heard before: "Melissa... It's what you deserve."

[thewritingofspencerrose]

Midterm Madness

Luke Hughes x OC

"Babe?" His rough, sleep-filled voice mumbles, rolling over in our bed. "What are you doing up?"

"Oh God, did I wake you?" I answer instead, dulling the screen of my laptop that sits in front of me. "I've been trying so hard to type quietly." Okay, that wasn't the answer Lu was looking for, based on how adorably confused he is right now, curls everywhere.

"It's- two in the morning Baby, why aren't you asleep?" He tries again, pulling the textbook off my lap, "And what is this?"

"I have a midterm in the morning, I was just studying now since I didn't have a chance to today at the hospital and then I got home with barely enough time to make dinner before you and Ja -"

"I wish you would have told me Baby," He interrupts, rolling on top of me and preventing any further studying. "I don't want you to feel like you have to cook for the Jack and I when you spend the night here, especially after a shift or on an exam night."

"But I enjoy it, it's like sitting down to family dinner and I don't get those when I go home," I can't help but remind, because it's the truth. He was there during my parents divorce last year when my sister left for school and made them an empty nester. He knows what was lost, and the Hughes family did their best to fill it in.

"How can I help with..." Are the next words out of his mouth, his strong arms pulling my back into his chest, holding the textbook in his hands as if he were reading. "Biochemical reactions?"

"I appreciate your efforts baby but you have practice tomorrow, and-"

"And nothing. Come on, if you're up, I'm up, and we're going to overnight this like when we were in Michigan," He demands, moving from the bed and taking all of his warmth with him. Throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, he tosses me his hoodie, my favorite one, and holds out his hand, taking my books and computer from me. "We're going to make some tea, settle down at the dining table, and get this shit done, okay?"

"Okay, I can agree to these terms," I can't help but agree, seeing the soft smile he's using on me, pulling his sweatshirt over my head and throwing my hair up. "We've got this."

"Hell yeah we do," Lu assures, leaving me to follow him as he exits his room, sprawling all of my things across the table, only pausing when another male voice interrupts the silence of the room from the couch.

"Moose? Mayday?" Jack's voice is the one to call, his head ducking up over the back of the couch, game controller in hand and brows in the sky. "What are you two doing up?"

"Mae has a midterm in the morning so we're going to study for it," Lu answers, turning to me, "Want to grab the snacks and drinks? You need fuel if we're going to survive this."

"Yes sir," I answer with a mock salute, wandering away with the boys chattering in the back ground. It's on my return that I pause, seeing both boys sitting at the table with their noses in my textbook. "Boys?"

"Can't have my future sister-in-law bombing an exam now can I? Who else is going to patch me up when I get into another fight?" And while it's a joke, you can see in his body language how much he does care.

"What fight? I thought that brawl with Aho wasn't a fight?" I can't help but chirp, his eyes rolling and Luke laughs, pulling me down to sit next to him, his lips meeting my forehead.

"Yeah, you think you're so funny Doc, now tell me, what's the golgi apparatus?"

[bloodstainedsaint]

Hey, I'm not sure if you take requests, but if you do, I have an idea:) Could you write something about a young woman who was in the Air Force disguised as a man and her plane was hit by the Germans while under attack, forcing her to jump out, leaving her stranded with her plane down and easy company witnessed the whole thing and tries to look for the pilot?

maybe with some romance or whatever with my mans lieb or doc roe if that’s possible hihi

when worlds collide (joseph liebgott x air force! reader)

word count: 1000+

warnings: blood & injury, but nothing really graphic

notes: sorry for the wait on this one 😭 i've been busy BUT i promise to be posting more during my break

You didn't remember much after your plane was hit by German flak while passing over some Dutch forest you couldn't recall the name of. What you could remember was everything rapidly blinking and on fire around you, dials going this way and that, your hands flying around the control board and trying desperately to pull up with the yoke as you cursed violently beneath your breath.

Following your fruitless struggle against gravity, you remembered preparing to parachute out of your plane and into the woods beneath you.

You were pretty sure you blacked out for a while after that.

-

The sight of a fighter plane nosediving into the ground and its booming resulting crash interrupted an otherwise uneventful five-man patrol through the woods.

“Jesus Christ! Did you see that?” Babe exclaimed, gawking up at where the plane had been in the sky mere seconds ago.

“Looks like it landed near us,” Pat observed.

Don looked wide-eyed. “It was one of ours. The pilot might need our help if he ejected in time!”

Lip shushed them. “There's AA guns nearby. Someone ought to go back and tell Battalion they’re positioned somewhere to our left near that dike we passed. Christenson, you go.”

As Pat nodded and left the way they came, Lip said, “We can't take too long looking for a pilot we don't know is alive or not." He checked his watch and sighed. "Alright, meet back here at 1700. Stay alert. Don't go too far on your own.”

The squad spread out in search of the hopefully-alive pilot. Joe walked with his rifle at the ready for about 20 minutes before stumbling upon large chunks of debris from the plane. Not far from that was a severed parachute, and then a blood trail.

He followed it until he noticed a pilot sitting on the ground next to some brush with his back turned to him, his clothes torn up enough to where large parts of skin littered with cuts were visible. Joe slowly approached, mindful not to scare him and wind up with a bullet in his head.

“Hey,” he called out. “Hey, buddy.”

The pilot turned around, and Joe noticed that “he” was not a he at all.

Your hand shot to the pistol on your belt, leveling it at him while vainly covering up your top half. You’d been trying to treat your wounds with the first-aid kit strapped to your waist; you'd gotten several steadily bleeding scratches from falling through trees and one or two broken ribs from your hasty landing. You ended up taking off your corset to relieve pressure on your ribcage, leaving you with your ripped up uniform and coveralls.

Regardless of your relief that an American soldier had found you rather than a German one, you kept your hand fixed on your sidearm.

“Woah, lady, put down the gun. I'm not a Kraut.” Lowering his own gun, his narrowed eyes flashed to your chest and widened at the sight of the reddish purple bruises that blemished it. "Goddamn..."

“It’s not what it looks like,” you managed out, though talking (or breathing, for that matter) was difficult.

“I don’t care what it looks like,” he said, the edge to his tone softening as he carefully walked toward you. “You need help.”

You painfully exhaled and set the gun down next to you. You turned around again to focus on treating your injuries, wincing with the movement. “I'm fine.”

“You don't look it.” He crouched down next to you. You flinched away slightly — you'd been disguised as a man for a while now, and this was the first time anyone was seeing you so vulnerable since your enlistment — before letting him inspect your wounds, albeit with you concealing your chest with your arms and what remained of your jacket.

“What’s your name?” he asked, gingerly applying sulfa powder to the gashes on your body.

You slightly hissed at the stinging sensation. “(Y/N), Senior Airman, 4th Fighter Group.”

“Joseph D. Liebgott, Technician 5th Grade, 101st Airborne.”

There was a temporary silence, punctuated only by you sucking in air through your teeth. As he bandaged one of the cuts, he said, “We need to get you some help. I was out here on patrol with my squad; we have a medic back at—”

“What?” You looked at him with a bewildered expression. “No, I don't need any medic. I just need help informing my superiors I got lost going through dense fog and got shot down here.”

“Why not? ‘Cause he'll see you're a girl?”

You gave him a pointed look. “Why else? If you haven't noticed, there aren't very many women serving on the front lines.” You paused and took a deep breath in through your nose. “If you bring your squad over here, someone's gonna report me and get me kicked out of the Air Force…Hell, I don't even know if I trust you to not report me. I just met you, for Chrissakes.”

In truth, you didn’t even know why you were letting him tend to you anyways — you were capable of doing it yourself, your biggest secret was currently exposed, and he was a stranger. But there was something about his change in demeanor and a sudden tenderness in his voice once he saw your injuries that made you want to trust him.

“Your secret’s safe, (Y/N),” he said firmly, a set expression on his face. “I got no reason to rat you out; I just met you too.”

You scanned his face for any signs of deceit, sighed when you found none, and nodded. “I’m still not letting your medic take a look at me.”

“Fine, but that’s not gonna stop me from helping you. I’ll be quick; the guys are gonna be expecting me back soon. We’ll go talk to them together.”

He resumed his aid, and after a few minutes, you could tell that he had started getting curious; he didn't seem like a man who knew how to shut up.

“How’d you disguise yourself as a man this long?”

With a shaky inhale, you closed your eyes as his hands brushed over your rib cage. Involuntarily, a small smile made its way onto your face as the countless predicaments you’d found yourself in flooded your memory. “It’s a long story.”

Liebgott cracked a crooked smile. “I can make some time.”

Laughing despite the pain that flared in your rib cage from the action, you couldn't help but feel that this chanced occasion wouldn't be the last time you would speak to Liebgott. And for some reason foreign to you at that moment, you hoped that your intuition was correct.

-

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop, @joetoyesbrassknuckles101

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - The Sign is Slaying

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top. Happy new year, BLabies!

Jan 2024 Wk 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

The Sign (Sat YT) ep 8 of 12 - Tharn in Phaya’s too big clothing is the cutest thing in the world.

I gotta to say something about Babe's acting really quickly. I love the way he’s inhabiting the personality of his naga character with reptilian eye and body movements and (I don’t know how to put this) a certain reserved, elegant, slithering- ness. He's very good this new boy of ours. (He come from something physical like dance?)

I adored them doing the walk of shame and being teased.

ALSO I enjoyed the way they handled Tharn’s gender in the past with his costume (the pha chung hang is gender neutral but that green top is a kinda combo m+f) and pronouns et al.

Language corner:

They are using ancient pronouns. I *think* I heard: daow (3rd), khun/jao/tan (2nd), kaa (Ist) - all pronouns in use are gender neutral - to the best of my understanding.

Last Twilight (Fri YT) ep 10 of 12 - Ooo. Day comes out to fam. Also his maa legit took his phone away and said

“I don’t mind you being gay but you can’t date a poor.”

Still, these 2 do kind of make the best secret boyfriends ever.

Also I begin to love Night: “that’s my baby” indeed. You special ain’t ya?

For Him (Thurs iQIYI) ep 7 of 12 -  I’m starting to find this pretty boring at this juncture. Bummer, because for a while I was enjoying it.

Twins the series (Fri GaGa) ep 11 of 12 - The stuff with the spy on the team is super boring. I’m not wild about the side characters either. So most of this episode was a bust for me. I did like First’s ex. 

Pit Babe (Fri iQIYI) ep 9 of 14 - Charlie & Babe = honeymoon phase. Jeff & Kim = forgotten. Pete & Way = riddles wrapped in alphas but actually enigmas. Everyone else = gang bang phase…. Apparently. Trash watch happening here.

Cooking Crush (Sun YT) ep 6 of 12 - Loved that this was a mutual kiss. (Also how comfortable are OffGunn kissing now? Babies!) I’ve moved from indifference to absolute loathing of the side couple tho.

Oddball LIES from the script = the gayest bridge in Bangkok isn’t lit up after 9pm.

Meanwhile, very important kicky kicky feet and Doc is a dork about flirting now that he’s all in. Looks like we get the official boyfriend ep next week.  

You and My Stars YT 2of 2(?) - Couldn’t find it. Not fussed. 

Time the series (Thai Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - Okay so there’s a gang and someone named Chris is killed and his boyfriend, actor Foam, is jumped back in time to save him? NO SINGING. Between Chris’s death and that time-slip there’s some kind of accidental murder, a pink pocket watch, Chris being alive again but also a different person, and a make out scene. Are you also confused? Actually, the real question is: Do we continue watching? Remember we (the collective BLorg) do not trust MFlow. 

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) ep 21 of 24 - The acting has been pretty terrible all along with this series, but this one is the worst. I just can’t. I may tune in for the last installment but this one is a DNF for me. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Although I Love You and You AKA Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka (Japan Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - It’s utterly adorable. Very manga, but so far not grating on my nerves. They so cute! You know I adore a hyung romance. Add a v gay sauna scene and an OUT gay boy and just... YES. All the married breeder regulars being overly invested in their pretty cook’s queer drama queening, it's so good.

AND THEN a confession in the first episode? Japan sure loves to mess with the pacing of plots drops.

Also, how much do I want to eat every single piece  of food in this darn show? 

Sahara-sensei to Toki-kun (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 5 of 8 - Man I wish this were better I enjoyed this more. Sigh. I do LOVE the stepbrother sides. Of course I do. But how can this feature 2 of my favorite relationship types (age gap, stepbrothers) and not be my favorite BL airing? Japan, how do you ALWAYS do this to me? 

VIP Only (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 9 of 10 - I don’t know. I just wish this were better. Also shorter.

I really miss KBL right now.

It's done I Need to Catch up

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - will binge when I have a spare day.

The Servant and the Young Master - from Veitnam so I assume it's on YouTube. I never even noticed. Anyone?

After Sundown - aired on Netflix Thailand. No word on inter release.

It's Airing But...

[INTERNATIONAL] Cherry Magic (Sat YouTube) ep 3 of 12 - yeah Japan put the smack down on our boys. Sadness. You can use a VPN if you like. Read all about it here.

Ossans Love Season 2 (Japan Gaga) - 5 years later, will anything have changed? This is Japan so… probubly not. I won't be watching this. I disliked Season one and actively hated the follow ups. No thank you.

Playboyy (Thurs Gaga) 14 eps - Dear Playboyy, it's not you, it’s me… I hate you. You’re about as deep (and as palatable) as a shot glass of cum. While I'm sure you’re someone’s kink, you're my weakest link. Goodbye. I DNFed this at ep 5. Frankly I'm impressed with myself for getting that far.

Night Dream (Sat YT) 6 eps - It’s a pain to track down and I really didn’t like the first episode so… DNF  

The Whisperer (Sun ????) 10 eps - Thai horror BL that ALSO involves cheating (what joy is mine). I don't think even the perfect single dimple can motivate me to watch. Word is... it's terrible.

7 Days Before Valentine (Weds WeTV) 10 eps - Giving me Luminous Solution vibes. I'm waiting to binge if safe.

Dead Friend Forever (Thai Sat iQIYI) - horror, meh, tell me if it's worth my time?

In Case You Missed it

All my year-end round ups:

TOP 10 BL Trends of 2023

Top 10 BL Secondary Pairs of 2023

2023 BLs Best Trope Execution Awards! TOP 10

BL 2023's Best:

Back Hugs Thailand & Elsewhere

Cute Bits of Domesticity

Boys Feeding Boys

BOOP!

Best Cuddles

Heads in Laps

Touching Head Touches

Thailand Put His Head on Your Shoulder

Put Your Head on My Shoulder (not Thailand)

BEST KISSES (not Thailand)

BEST KISSES FROM THAILAND

All the BLs Announced for 2023 that didn't happen

Next Week Looks Like This

More Coming Jan 2024

Beside You (Thai YouTube)

1/24 Love For Love's Sake (Korea Gaga)- based on the Manhwa ‘Love Supremacy Zone’ by Hwacha. A young man is dropped into a game based off a novel he loves. His mission is to make another player, YeoWoon happy. But then the game starts unfolding completely different from the novel.

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Why are the oversized flappy flappy sleeves so adorable? (The Sign)

Pit Babe

Frankly 2024 is starting on a whimper... mostly from Babe.

(Last week)

[kumquats-are-gay]

Johnny Cage x Reader (NSFW)

18+ (MINORS DNI)

Hey, fuckers, I finally made some of the Johnny Cage x Reader content I promised. Just spent the past five hours writing this instead of doing my homework, lol. I imagined MK1 Johnny Cage for this, so it reflects his specific personality the most, but you could probably imagine a different Johnny Cage. I plan on writing for daddy/DILF MK11 Johnny Cage at some point, too.

Anyways, if you know me irl, then dear god please do not read this, and do not mention this.

...unless like, you enjoyed it and want to talk about it in a good way, ya know? Otherwise just ignore it. You can judge me silently, just please not to my face. K, thanks. Lmao.

A/N: If people enjoy this enough, then I'll take some time to make a gn!reader version of this later! Beta read by me (extremely unreliable) and pasted directly from Google Docs, so pardon any weird formatting.

Words: 2,688

Tags: female!reader, afab anatomy, smut, kind of rough smut, safe sane and consensual, fluff, full Nelson position, creampie, implied breeding kink (it's there for 0.2 seconds), sexual photography (only at the beginning portion), light overstimulation, Johnny is absolutely smitten with you, feelings, Johnny is also a total goofball, Johnny is a horndog

Please lmk if there are any tags you think I'm missing and/or should add! <3

Edit: Here's the AO3 link!

✨You're Something Else✨

He flipped over to the inner camera and curtailed his pace as he angled his phone this way and that, getting the perfect framing. Of course, he had also taken care to angle his dick just right and surprised you with one harsh thrust against your bundle of nerves. The noise you made was borderline pornographic. And, as you’d find out, so was your expression. You heard the sound of a synthetic camera shutter, and the knowledge of what that meant sent a different shudder throughout your body. 

“Take a look, babe,” he breathed into your ear before bringing the screen close enough for you to get a good look. “God, we’re so hot.” You struggled to keep your head up so you could look; it repeatedly threatened to loll over as Johnny slowly swiveled his hips this way and that. He seemed to pick up on your troubles, but mercy wasn’t part of his arsenal today. “C’mon, focus, hon’,” he huffed, a tad petulant, and grabbed your chin with his free hand to at least keep you facing forward. His movements didn’t relent, however. Johnny’s chin was hooked over your shoulder so he could look at the picture some more, too. “Here, why don’t you hold it?”

You grabbed the phone and were able to gather a modicum of your wits and senses, just enough to cut through the blurry glaze over your eyes. There you were, held tightly within Johnny’s thick arms. One of his hands was squeezing your breast. A sliver of your skin could be seen gripped between a glimpse of his teeth. The flash caught the glistening sweat that covered your bodies. Oh, and your face bared one of the most fucked-out expressions you think you’ve ever seen on someone. All in all, it was an incredible picture. He had a knack for the camera, you’d give him that. Johnny couldn’t seem to agree more, too. You heard his appreciative groan as he studied the picture yet again, his cock twitching within you.

“Fuck, gonna get that one framed,” Johnny said through nearly-gritted teeth. You wondered in bewilderment just where he would put it.

He dropped the phone onto the mattress, ignoring it in favor of using both of his now-free hands to grab your waist and roll the both of you over. He pushed himself up and back against the headboard with your back still pressed against his firm chest and gripped the underneath of your plush thighs in the process. His sweaty palms slid up to the undersides of your knees, which were soon replaced as he hooked his elbows underneath them instead. In a display of strength, he effortlessly pulled your legs apart and backwards, keeping them held there. You hissed just a little at the pain; your hamstrings weren’t ready for a sudden stretch like that. But you bore through it, for you knew the outcome would most certainly be worth it.

He strained your legs just a bit more, pulling them further back in order to get your arms in his grasp, too. His wrists were pressed against the front of your shoulders, and he topped it off by threading his fingers together behind your head, clasping his hands against the base of your skull. You could feel his warm palms bearing down on the back of your neck. You obeyed and yielded to the applied pressure by allowing your head to be pushed and angled downward.

And, just like that, you were practically immobile. He had you in a body-lock impaled on his dick. In other words, you were utterly at his mercy. God, his cock was already pressing against places you didn’t think were possible to reach—you could only imagine what it would feel like once he got go- “AH!”

“Sorry about that,” Johnny laughed, sounding completely unapologetic about the sudden, sharp thrust, “looked like you were thinkin’ real hard about something.” If you had more control over your mental faculties at the moment, perhaps you would have rolled your eyes in something other than pleasure. “Probably thinking ‘bout my cock, huh?” he tacked on, as if he needed to elaborate upon the obvious implication of his previous statement. You felt a hot wave of embarrassment wash over you nonetheless. You tried to cover your face, but gave a plaintive cry when you remembered that your range of motion was extremely inhibited right now. Johnny chuckled behind you; your attempt at hiding yourself hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Johnny,” you whined, knowing fully well what saying his name like that did to him. Right on cue, you felt his dick twitch violently against your walls, but the man held fast. The realization that you wouldn’t be let off the hook so easily caused a delicious little knot of anxiousness to form in your belly.

“Nice try, sweetheart, but I wanna hear you say it,” he huffed against your hair. In a retaliation that doubled as a last-ditch effort to break his resolve, you clenched around him. This prompted a soft grunt to fall from his lips, but nothing more happened. He remained almost statue-still.

Feeling resigned and a little humiliated, you managed to whimper, “I-I was… thinking about your- your… cock…”

Johnny hummed in approval and rewarded you with a few thrusts, albeit rather shallow ones. You nearly wailed when he stopped again just to whisper into your ear, “Good, that’s good, babe, but I want the specifics; give me the dirty details.” The hands laced behind your neck kept you from throwing your head back in frustration.

“Johnny!” you cried out with more intensity than the last time. Johnny shuddered lightly, then blew out a focusing breath. He unlocked his fingers so that he could soothingly stroke your hair.

“C’mon, babe, you know I’m not gonna judge you for what you say, and it’s not like you’re sharing your thoughts with me unsolicited; I’m literally asking to hear them,” he cooed as he continued to mollify your flustered, frayed person. “And let’s be honest: you could say pretty much anything and it would turn me on.” You laughed in the form of a sharp exhale while a tear threatened to spill down your cheek. You couldn’t believe this man- he could be totally serious one moment, then have the humor of a teenage boy the next. It nearly gave you whiplash. Through it all, though, you heard the pleading sincerity underneath. No matter what, he was always so earnest with you—heartfelt to a fault. You loved him for that, and for many other reasons that would take too long to list. He wanted you to trust him, and you did. Wholly.

You sighed, though not in exasperation, and relaxed in his grip; you would have fallen forward if it hadn’t been for strong arms holding you up. The only thing that fell back was your head which now rested on his shoulder. Always an opportunist, Johnny took this moment to suckle at your exposed neck as you gathered your words (though his consistent mouthing made that a bit difficult). “I was, um… thinking about your- your dick, and how it would… feel in this position, f-fucking me.”

Johnny outright groaned this time, no longer feeling the need to hold himself back as you finally began to confess. “Yeah?” he prompted.

“Y-yeah…” you swallowed the lump in your throat before continuing, “‘cause it feels deep- deeper than usual.” At long last, you felt him start to move, causing immediate relief to flood your system. But you weren’t done; he had been so sweet when asking you, after all. Plus, the noises he began to make served as fuel for that fire within you, scorching and tantalizing all at once. “A-and just- ngh- how far you… hah, could- could come inside me.”

“Holy shit, yes,” Johnny gasped with excitement. His pace grew even more rapid after hearing your admission. “Gonna fill you to the goddamn brim-” he was almost panting now, “-and fuck my come so deep inside of you that- ah, fuck- that, soon enough, everyone will know who you belong to.” Another deluge of molten lava surged through you, responding to the implication held in his filthy words. Yet, you were helpless in this position to do anything about it. All you really could do was allow yourself to be used as Johnny’s personal fleshlight, but you didn’t mind. He bullied himself into you relentlessly, sparing you not a single moment of his love and lust for you, and the squelching sounds that echoed throughout the room were downright obscene. “Goddamn, you’re so fucking wet,” Johnny breathed. Your thighs were sore and you knew your voice would be scratchy tomorrow with how he was making you scream to the high fuckin’ Heavens and back. Your muscles begin to repeatedly tense and relax, a sign alongside your high-pitched keening that you were quickly approaching your orgasm.

“Oh, fuck,” he hissed at the intense stimulation you were providing. His grip turned vice as any inhibitions of his that were left (read: very few) were thrown out the door along with the metaphorical key. “Fuck…fuck!” He kept your thighs and arms squeezed between his biceps and forearms, leaving you unable to do anything but take it. It seemed like Johnny wasn’t very far behind you, but you needed just a little bit more to reach your release. So, naturally, you began to beg.

“Plea- GUH- nn…ple- h-ease…! Touch- hah…need-!” you sputtered, barely able to form a single coherent word with just how ruthlessly he was jackhammering into you. Knowing you and your body well by now, Johnny was able to interpret your nearly incomprehensible request. 

“Be good for me, baby,” he groaned. Johnny then released one of your arms and legs as he slid the respective hand down your torso—lightly pinching your tit on its way down—and over your sex. “Be a good girl and come for me,” he demanded before he pressed his finger against your clit and began to apply pressure in movements of tight little circles. It barely took five more seconds for you to come. You practically convulsed on his lap, your body jerking this way and that as pure ecstasy overtook every fiber of your being. Being the gentleman that he is, Johnny fucked you through it all, riding the wave of your frenzy alongside you. 

Oversensitivity began to inevitably settle in, though, and Johnny was still tearing through you like a bull in a china shop. Though the mingled pain and pleasure felt amazing, you weren’t sure how much of it you could take. Just as you were about to voice this, Johnny fiercely shouted your name before you felt the unmistakable warmth of his semen saturating your insides. He held you tightly against him as he continued shooting ropes of cum into your throbbing, awaiting pussy, all of which you readily accepted as you milked his cock with unrivaled greed. The peak of his pleasure seemed to go on for a while before he eventually began to simmer down. His whole body relaxed and he repositioned his arms around your waist while he eased his grip. 

It took some time for the both of you to regain your breath. Johnny’s fanned over your neck as your own grazed his collarbone. After some time you felt both of your hearts begin to settle, beating in and out of synchronicity. Johnny pressed a kiss against your temple, eliciting a contented sigh from you.

“God, you’re so hot,” Johnny proclaimed.

“I thought we were both hot?” you asked, parroting his statement from earlier.

“Well yeah, we are; I wasn’t People’s Sexiest Man Alive last year for nothing.” You actually did roll your eyes in amusement this time—would he ever stop bringing that up? “But, you? God, you’re…” he trailed off, momentarily at a loss for words (an extraordinarily scarce occurrence). Your heart skipped a beat as he struggled for what to say. “You’re just something else, you know? I don’t know how else to describe it—you’re just…amazing. Smart, funny, supportive, sexy-” he lowered his voice as he spoke the last word and drummed his fingers against your sides. You didn’t have to turn around to know he was wiggling his eyebrows like a fool. You lightly backhanded his shoulder for his antics, but he only laughed and grabbed your hand before you could pull it back and laced his fingers with yours. “Okay, no, seriously though, you always have my back no matter what I do or say, even when you know I’m wrong, as rare as that is-” This time, you used your other hand to softly smack at his chest. He laughed again, and you couldn’t help but giggle with him, especially when he did as you had expected and grabbed your other hand and also intertwined it with his own. After your snorts and snickering died down, he decided to kiss the tip of your nose.

“‘Something else’, huh?” you mirthfully repeated with a gleam in your eye. Johnny looked at you like a lovesick fool with those big, brown puppy-dog eyes.

“Something else,” he firmly restated as he held your gaze. You couldn’t help the shy, soft smile that adorned your features.

“At the risk of overinflating your ego, I have to say that I also find you to be ‘something else’,” you expressed, and then decided to elaborate,” “underneath all of that muscle, bravado, and good looks, you’re a big softy who has a heart of gold and lots of love to give, and I wouldn’t rather spend my time with anyone else.”

Johnny’s expression had morphed into a mixture of disbelief and awe by this point. He didn’t say a word—just continued looking at you like you might have hung the moon and the stars. It was a little overwhelming, though certainly not unwelcome. And then the goofiest grin you’ve ever seen on him suddenly stretched across his face, reaching from ear to ear. The look was completed with a single quirked eyebrow.

“You think I’m good looking, huh?”

“Oh, my God,” you groaned exasperatedly, but you couldn’t help the hint of amusement that seeped into your voice. “That’s it, I’m sleeping in the other room.” Though joking, you let go of his hands and made to get up, but Johnny’s reaction was instantaneous; he pulled you back against him, and only then did you realize that his penis was still inside of you as you felt it shift during the sudden movement. 

“Nooo, stay here,” he whined petulantly. He reaffirmed his grasp around your waist and kept you in his lap, snugly wrapped around his cock. Your stomach fluttered a little bit at the feeling of still being full while his seed dripped down along your perineum. 

You made an exaggerated sound of irritation, clearly putting on an act, and dramatically exclaimed, “Ugh, fine, I guess I can stay for a bit longer.”

“Knew you couldn’t resist my charm,” Johnny hummed into your hair, muffling his voice a bit. You just shook your head and smiled.

“You never miss an opportunity, do you?”

“Nope!”

You chuckled again before settling in against him, squirming around a bit to try and get comfortable. “You gonna pull out anytime soon, oorrr…?” you inquired.

For a brief moment, he acted like he was actually going to think about it, then quickly replied, “Nah, don’t think I will.” Though you weren’t opposed to the idea, this was certainly a new behavior from Johnny. You furrowed your brow.

“And why’s that?” 

“Hmm, I said I was going to fuck my cum into you,” he recalled like he was telling you about yesterday’s weather. And just like that, the dying ember that resided in your abdomen flared back to life. You could hear him lick his lips, which was followed by a nibble at your earlobe. He purred against it, “or have you already forgotten?” You could feel him beginning to harden again inside of your abused cunt.

Oh, this was going to be a long night.

[gaspshichat]

pearl quotes !!

i write down a lot of pearl quotes and sometimes share them in her discord server. i've decided to put every single one i've gathered into one tumblr post. i will reblog the most recent addition every saturday with any new quotes that i have acquired. you can also send me quotes in my ask box or my dms on twitter [username is gaspshichat, like usual]. no guarantees that they'll be added though!

a lot of these quotes are sus and very out of context. that is part of the point! if pearl wants me to delete this, i absolutely will

[before it gets asked, karn is her bestie boyfriend]

~|•🌙•|~

pearl: before we do that let me restock my balls

~

pearl: ooh there's things happening on the ser- A BEACON ????

~

pearl: don't thank me because i didn't approve of it

~

pearl: i hope you guys understood what i said because i didn't

~

pearl: "you killed a frog?" yup! it was for science......let it be known that is a terrible excuse in real life

~

pearl: "do you take iron tablets?" i have them!

~

pearl to keralis: well you're a letdown but i don't talk about that

~

pearl: fix ai, make them breedable

~

pearl: i got the double p! please don't acronym that

~

pearl: "do you use slabs in terraforming?" *zooms in on a slab she used for terraforming* no

~

pearl: "don't sell yourself short" it's okay i'm tall

~

pearl: they don't bite! much..

~

pearl: doc owes me child support!

*long, stunned silence*

cleo: ....okay….

~

cleo: so keralis did the kidnapping, and you did kidnapping by proxy

pearl: ...no

~

pearl: it was a heart of mutton. it was creepy

cleo: it was a meat heart :D

~

cleo: i want to mail horrible things, like animals, to iskall

pearl: oh! that's horrid

~

pearl: "you charge your other mats rent?" yes

~

pearl: i don't know if this is lag or if my balls are just popping in really slowly

~

pearl: these balls ain't going away

~

pearl: let me move my balls aside for you

~

pearl: hello ♪

karn: is it me you're looking for ♪

pearl: no ♪

karn: oh :(

~

pearl: i don't need a big, strong man to kill me

~

pearl: turn down the thing you need to turn down...you know what it is

~

karn: i fractured the world from what i can tell

pearl: ..bruh

~

pearl: what does the button do?

karn: THE BUTTON SHUTS THE DOORS ON US AND SPAWNS A BUNCH OF MOBS

pearl: i pushed the button hehe

~

pearl: cleo made the child

false: ...the child?

pearl: yeah :D it's a bebe

~

pearl: "why are there beach umbrellas at the post office?" *long pause* maybe it's because of all the water?

~

pearl: you caught me mid construction

gem: i know >:3

~

pearl: he's letting his babies loose

~

gem: look at you up there. you're adorable *punches her*

pearl: aH-

~

pearl: i am greatly navigationally challenged right now

~

pearl: i got too comfortable with hermitcraft actually working

~

pearl: ah! moist!

~

pearl: anyway that's completely distracted me away from my really passionate rockies

~

pearl: we have pickles to do !!

~

karn: let's not sit on the balls

pearl: 🤨

karn: *holds up cat toys*

pearl: oh- *starts laughing and hides her very red face*

~

pearl: just shove it in

~

pearl: how do you know what brimstone tastes like

karn: i've lived quite the life

~

pearl: give it a suck

~

pearl: our feet are not equal

karn: why are you bringing our feet into this ??

~

pearl: i could give you the australian bestie word-

karn, oblivious: alright

pearl: -but it's not pg

karn, realizing: ahhh

~

karn: it's a mental thing, you see

pearl: oh

karn: yes, i'm mentally stuck here

pearl: i see

karn: yes, i'm in a position where i don't want to leave-

pearl: that's very intense for a friend

~

karn: it's just as sweet as you

pearl: don't butter me up

karn: too late!

~

pearl: i'm flee with extra flee

~

karn: you okay, my dear?

pearl: *sobbing*

~

pearl: did you pee in the ocean?

karn, instantly: yes

~

pearl: stop wasting your bullets!

karn: sorry ☹️

~

pearl: did you think his ass was his face ????

~

pearl: in what realm is a butthole a face ????

karn: *trying to explain*

pearl: babe :I

~

pearl: take that you stupid ass robot

~

karn: on the count of three. one-

pearl: *starts blasting*

~

pearl: stupid ass spider

~

pearl: a butt is clearly defined by two cheeks, a hole, and a tail!

~

pearl: [karn] is very special. in multiple ways