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sxturdaysun · 7 months

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favorite episode of durarara is the one where kyouhei goes around indiscriminately beating ass all across ikebukuro

#he woke up that day and chose violence and i love that for him <3 #i think he should do that more often actually. and i should get to watch #or something. what who said that #♡ — text #🖤 crash my car

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fangirl-dot-com · 2 months

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🖤Prologue - My Reputation's Never Been Worse

Ok, so I was in the mood to create something dealing with the news about Logan's car being traded for Alex. So, I thought, why not give Reputations a prologue. Now, this does not happen in 2024. This is set around the 2023 Brazil Grand Prix. Everything in this story is fake. I'm sorry I had to make some of the drivers mean - in no way do I think that they act like this. Yes, they could be nicer to Logan but because I don't know them personally, I have no real thoughts about what they do in their own lives.

All I know is that Logan deserves all the love and my heart hurts for him.

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Saturday, November 4, 2023

“You want to do what?”

James sighed as he hunched over his desk. Logan was in disbelief over the question that he was just asked. Alex sat to his right, chewing on his finger nails.

“It’s just for one race Logan. It’s no big deal.”

Logan’s brows pinched in annoyance. “No big deal? Two races ago, we scored our first double points. I have raced clean, I’ve shown you what I can do.”

“That right now doesn’t matter Logan,” James pushed. “What matters is the team. And we need to keep pushing to get points.”

“Then let me race. Let me prove to you that I can do it.”

Alex coughed, but no one paid attention to him. The Thai’s eyes were pointed at the floor. His silence was deafening. Logan leaned back in his seat.

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

There wasn’t an answer from James, which gave Logan everything he needed to know. How dare they come to a circuit without an extra chassis. How dare they ask Logan to give up his car that he worked so hard to get in the first place. It was ridiculous. And even if Alex managed to score points, it wouldn’t really matter. There were only a few races left.

Logan finally turned to his teammate. “What do you think about this?”

Alex only replied, “I would do what was best for the team.”

A scoff escaped the blonde’s lips.

“So if I had crashed out, and they asked you to give your car to me, what would you say?”

“It wouldn’t matter because they’d never ask me to do that. I’d still drive.”

Logan’s jaw wanted to fall. Did Alex really just say that? The man who had been so confident in Logan. The one who encouraged him after every fault. The person who was supposed to be his teammate.

Logan could only collapse against the back of the chair. In frustration, he threw his hands up.

“Fine. Whatever it take for the team right?” he bit.

“Thank you Logan.”

However, the American was out the door before he could even hear James. He needed some air. As he walked around the paddock, he saw lots of people but thankfully (or sadly) they didn’t pay attention to him. After walking for a bit, he knew where he was automatically going to.

The back of the Mercedes garage.

George, bless his heart, had comforted him once after a particular bad DNF and told him that if he ever needed a place to just sit, he was always welcome there. The tall Briton was always nice to the American. Way nicer than anyone had really treated him.

He sat on the wet-ish grass and pulled out his phone. Time to look like he was actually doing something. Maybe the weather in Madrid was nice, or maybe it was raining back home? The weather app was always his go to.

It only took a matter of moments for the post to go live. His eyes followed the mass amount of comments that poured in. And most of them were not lovely. He wanted to cry, but he knew better.

Footsteps made him aware that someone was coming. He quickly stood up and rounded a corner, putting his back flat against the wall.

It was Alex, George, Lando, and Oscar.

“Great,” he whispered when he realized that there was no way to escape without them seeing. Oh well, eavesdropping was one of his specialties.

“He was not happy,” he heard Alex say. “I don’t blame him.”

Lando scoffed, or well, he thought it was Lando.

“This wouldn’t have happened if he was a better driver.”

Yep, that was Lando.

“Come on, don’t say that.”

Thank you Oscar, Logan wanted to say. Thank you for standing up for me.

“Mate, you were just saying yesterday about how he really isn’t fit for F1. You said that he should have stuck with Indy Car or something.”

Ouch.

Logan wanted to throw up.

“Shit, I was really mean to him in there. I should have said something.” That was Alex again.

Logan could practically hear Lando roll his eyes. For some reason, George has stayed eerily quiet.

“Alex, it’s his own fault. I’m just saying everything that everyone is thinking. I’m the only one who is brave enough to say it. Logan Sergeant has no business being in Formula 1.”

Oscar stuttered out, “That’s enough Lando.”

“Right sorry, forgot you two were close.”

Come on Oscar.

“Not that close. He exaggerates a bit. To be honest, I just felt bad for him. He kind of stuck to me and I just let him.”

Oh.

Alex sighed. “He wanted to prove something so much. But there’s really no need.”

“No need?” Logan whispered to himself.

“James isn’t extending his contract. Williams is going with whoever wins this year’s Formula 2 championship.”

There was silence for a bit. Logan took the time to reign in his breaths that were quickly getting faster and faster. He did not need to have a panic attack here and now.

“We have to go, Andrea is texting me.”

“I’ll go with. My engineers have to look over Logan’s car to change some things.”

He heard footsteps start to walk away. The lone Williams driver let out a deep sigh and sank to the ground. His head was automatically in his hands as he finally let his tears shed. What he didn’t see was a 6-foot Briton walking his way.

The blonde gasped when he felt a food nudge his. His head shot up and was faced with George.

“Oh hey. Didn’t see you coming.”

“I know you were listening.”

Red flushed Logan’s face as the idea of being caught.

“It’s not eavesdropping if everyone talks so loudly.”

George sighed. “I’m not mad Logan. I’m worried for you.”

A scoff escaped from Logan.

“You’d be the first.”

George felt his heart drop at the sentence.

“I try and try, and no matter what I do, it’s never good enough.”

“Mate, you can’t get anywhere in a Williams. Did you even see my rookie year? It was bloody awful.”

Logan looked back down. “But you’re now in Mercedes. You won the Formula 2 championship. I wasn’t even runner up or third place. Williams is all I have, er, well, had I guess.”

“I’m truly sorry Logan.”

“Sure.”

George started to walk away, knowing that trying to convince the American that he was good enough was a lost cause. Logan waited until the Briton left before standing up to make his way back to the garage.

He could feel the eyes on him now as he made the journey back to Williams. His eyes caught George standing with Lewis, Max, and Charles. They looked sad as they watched him walk.

Whatever, Logan did want or need their pity.

The American kept on walking, only stopping to ask for a car to take him back to his hotel. Man, did he wish Benny were here. It would make everything so much better. His phone had been blowing up with so many notifications. Multiple messages from his friends back home, along with his parents, had been nothing less than supportive.

However, one message caught his eye as he was going through the long list. He was surprised, but there was a warm, fuzzy feeling at the sight of your name. He knew that you were also having a hard time adjusting to everything. Except for the fact that you had won a race for Arrow a few weeks prior. Hell, he was even at your celebration party. But he remembered the looks on your team’s faces as you celebrated.

One good word would be jealousy.

And it wasn’t just your team: it was everyone.

He sent you a quick text saying that he’d call you when he got back to his room. A fast “I’ll be waiting” brought the warm feelings back.

He quickly walked through the hotel doors and into the elevator. It was going to be so nice when he could change into his sweatpants and t-shirt.

Logan mulled over the entire thing as he showered.

He could have stayed home in Florida. He wasn’t needed here anyway. He could be in his childhood room, in his own comfy bed instead of the stuffy hotel room that he knew was smaller than the one that Alex got. He had seen the Thai’s pictures from Instagram and their rooms did not look the same.

He quickly glanced in the mirror, just to see if his hair looked fine. He was thinking of growing it out, but hesitated to. He didn’t want to be made fun of even more than he already was. With a jump into the bed, he was ready.

He sent you a quick text, only to be met with the FaceTime screen ready. He rolled his eyes, you had always been so impatient to talk to people. When he pressed the green button, he was met with a big smile and an oh so familiar and safe face.

“Hi Logan.”

How he missed your voice. You were always so soft spoken, but could yell at people if you needed to. He had been on the wrong side of your yell one too many times. But, he could listen to you for hours if he could.

“Hello? Earth to Logan?”

He quickly shook his head.

“Hi Y/n,” he murmured, laying his head on his bicep as he just looked into the camera. You had a sad smile as you looked at the blonde.

You could see his eyebags and his pale completion through the small screen. His red eyes signified that he probably cried when he took his shower (you knew because his hair was still soaked).

You cleared your voice. “How are you holding up?”

Logan’s shoulders only raised before dropping back down.

“I’ve been better.”

“Of course you have.”

“Overheard that I’m not going to be resigned for next year.”

A gasp echoed through the room before you sighed. Your hand ran through your hair. When you and Logan were little, people always mistook you for twins or very close siblings. That always annoyed you because you claimed that Logan was your boyfriend, not your brother. The moms and dads would just laugh.

Looking back, you always wished you cherished those moments more than you had. The “relationship” only lasted for three days or until you saw Logan give Jessica his extra fruit roll up instead of you. After that, you claimed that you could only be his best friend since he didn’t love you as much as you loved him. You were over it as soon as you gave Michael your extra fruit roll up.

You looked down at your fingers in your lap and bit your lip.

“What are you thinking about?”

You sighed again. “If it helps, I’m not getting resigned either.”

Logan’s eyes widened as he scoffed.

“That’s ridiculous. You have given them 1 out of their 2 wins this season.”

“And Logan, you scored points as the first American in like 30 years. Nothing in motorsports is ever fair.”

Logan leaned back, but kept his face visible.

“Remember when we were kids? And we always said that we would make it to our dreams together?”

A quiet hum sounded from his phone.

“Have we made it yet?”

Silence was his answer.

“I don’t think we have.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Logan, is driving in a Williams really your dream?”

The male thought for a moment. Did he accomplish his dream of getting and making it to Formula 1? To the outside world, yes, yes he did. He drove for an F1 team. He ‘made it’ even if it wasn’t the best. But is it really making it if you finished 21st in a 22 driver line up?

No, that was not making it. That was barely getting by.

“I guess my dream was just to show everyone that I could do it. That I’d be good at it. But, now I haven’t done that.”

“Then why have you given up?”

“Because everyone wants me to. No one has ever liked me for me.”

“I do.”

Logan inhaled sharply. He finally turned his head to see you looking right at him through the screen. He felt a tear run down his face.

When had that gotten there?

“Logan, listen to me.”

A hum from him made you laugh. You guessed that’s what you were going to get out of him.

“You have the talent, Williams saw that. They just couldn’t give you a car to maximize your potential. And who cares if no one likes you. You don’t have to make them like you, but at the same time you do. You can’t be green-eyed lady whisperer Charles Leclerc or World Champion Max Verstappen.”

He rolled his eyes. “Wow, thanks Y/n.”

Your giggles filled the air. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah, please continue about Charles’s green eyes.”

“Dude I could write a whole biography on his eyes alone. But I don’t want to. I’d rather write a whole novel about yours.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say Logan, is that you have to believe in yourself and show them that they need to like you because you are you. Say it with me please? Like you’re talking to a hater. ‘You must like me for me’.”

Logan whispered back, trying to believe his words.

“You must like me for me.”

He shot up from the bed as soon as he said the words.

“Isn’t that a Taylor Swift lyric?”

His eyes narrowed at you through the phone. You only smirked back at him.

“Quite possibly. Now, you are going to go to bed, sleep so well, and then keep smiling. Show them that they haven’t destroyed your spirit just yet.”

Logan put his head on a pillow.

“Oh, so they are going to destroy my spirit at some point.”

“Yep!,” you popped the ‘p,’ “but not right now. That can come later.”

He smiled dopily at you.

“You’re the best you know? I know that I say that Oscar is my best friend, but it’s actually you.”

A whine-like noise came from your throat.

“You’re my best friend too. I’ll see you in a couple of months ok? Still have to beat Dalton at football this summer.”

“You say that every year!”

“Ok and?”

“Goodnight Y/n.”

“Night Logan. Sweet dreams.”

You hung up the phone, leaving Logan alone in his little hotel apartment. He thought about what you had said. What’s the point in trying to make them believe in him anyway. They were going to throw him away like trash soon.

But you were also right. He didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. He just needed to show them what he could do, and they could feel bad about it later.

Logan set his alarms for the morning and got under the covers.

He’d show them.

His reputation has never been worse, so what’s a bit of fun until the end?

logansargeant has posted

logansargeant if I didn't have a day job, I'd spend every moment listening to you, come visit me soon - your best friend

liked by georgerussell63, williamsracing, racer.y/n, and 493,206 others

logiebear oooooo girl in the pictures - have something to tell us mr. American 🤨

lolo2024 what they did to him this weekend was unfair

sargeant2 this was my first Grand Prix and I came from Spain just to watch him! I'm so sad that now I won't get to... :(

logansargeant hey! sorry about that - let me know what you're wearing and I'll try to find you, thank you for the support 💙

sargeant2 OH MY GOSH

racer.y/n I'll see you soon ok! sorry, my day job is also taking up all my time 🧡 *liked by logansargeant*

indyxf1 HELLO Y/N L/N??

log4_ever who is she?

indyxf1 so she like grew up grew up with Logan and she currently races for McLaren Arrow (their IndyCar entry) - she's won half of their races (1/2)

sarg4president they don't deserve you Logan!

loscar_812 I thought Oscar was your best friend hmmmm??

logan&y/n uhhhh haven't you seen that Oscar has been drifting since he's gotten closer with Lando??

loscar_812 oh. yeah. :(

billsracing and I thought williams was different - not them creeping in the likes 🙄

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @disneyprincemuke @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora

#f1 x driver!reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #logan sergeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #formula 1 x you #future grid dad lestappen #future grid dad lewis #grid bestie george #lestappen #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #reputations fic #reputations is coming #reputations

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notleclerc · 7 months

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I want to be appreciated

🖤Charles x Fem!reader

🖤summary: Charles reached his limit after his results at the Austin Grand Prix and needs his lover more than ever

🖤warnings: angst, fluff and a lil suggestive at the end ;) French sentences are translated

🖤a/n: this is my first fic so please have mercy on me. English is not my first language so i am happy for any feedback <3 ENJOY BABES

Charles was always a giver. His friends needed him to take them somewhere? Alright be ready in 5. His Team Principal called him last minute for a team meeting? Of course anything for Ferrari.

It never bothered Charles because that’s his way of showing care and appreciation to what he has. He loves seeing others being well and happy and him being the reason for that but what about his needs? Why is it so hard for people to appreciate him?

It hit him hard when he ended up in P6 and was later on disqualified at the US Austin Grand Prix. People rushed to him and tried to cheer him up but nothing worked and that’s when they realised, they‘ve got no clue on how to help the one that always WAS the helper himself. All Charles needed right now was the warmth of one person. You, (Y/n). His lovely girlfriend that somehow notices everything about him.

Charles enters his driver room and sees you already waiting for him with your arms wide open and a gentle smile on your face.

„Come here mon amour, laisse-toi aller, tu es en sécurité ici“ (my love, let it all out, you are safe here)

It‘s in that moment that Charles finally let‘s go and crashes in your arms with quiet sobs and a tight grip on your shirt. He keeps repeating „why me, why? what did i do?“ as he hides his face in your neck.

(Y/n) doesn‘t say anything and keeps softly caressing his back and scratching his head and let‘s him cry it all out. You remind him that he is safe here and that you‘ve got him. Charles slowly stopped and sat down on his bed and rubbed his eyes.

„It‘s always like this ma cherrié, i just want to leave…peut-on retourner à l'hôtel s‘il tu plaît?“. (can we go back to the Hotel please?)

(Y/n) nods and grabs his bag that she already packed because she knew charles wouldn‘t want to be around anyone. (Y/n) messaged Joris and Andrea and let them know that they are leaving. You handed Charles his sunglasses and hat and grabbed his hand.

„Lets go Cha, just follow my lead okay baby?“

He only nodded and followed you like a lost puppy into his rented Ferrari. Fans, journalists and photographers tried to take pictures and ask questions but you shieled him and asked for distance and respect. Once at the car, you wanted to enter the passenger seat but got tugged back slightly by Charles.

„Can you please drive… i just… i just don‘t want to…“

With no hesitation, you let him sit and took the seat behind the steering wheel and drove the two of you back to the hotel. Once there, you helped Charles enter through the back door and you both immediatly made your way inside your room and let him lay down on the bed. Charles heard your footsteps and turned his face to look at you and saw you disappearing into the bathroom.

(Y/n) tied her hair up and started to run a warm bath for Charles with lavender scented bubbles, a scent to relax the mind. While the bathub was getting ready, (Y/n) went back to Charles and started to take off his shoes and his clothes.

„Let me take care of you my love okay? All you have to do is enjoy and relax and nothing else“

You kiss his forehead as he looked tiredly and hopeful at you. Charles nodded and let you guide him into the bathroom that is filled with the aroma of lavender which immediatly calms him down slowly. (Y/n) guides him into the bath and let’s him relax his tense muscles.

„Close your eyes mon amour and let me massage you and take care of you. Tell me if you need anything ma vie“ (my life)

You kiss his lips softly as he closes his eyes and sighs in content. You start to massage his head and move down towards his shoulders and arms. You make sure to massage the sore spots and gently start to also massage the rest of his body. Charles felt like he was on cloud nine as he could finally relax and only focus on you and your touch. Usually it’s a big havoc inside his brain when its a race weekend but with this? He never wants to go back.

After cleaning and massaging his whole body, (Y/n) also washed his hair and made him step out of the bathub once finished. He put the towel around himself and you gently took his hand and brought him back to the bedroom. You helped drying him and made sure to moisturize is body and face gently.

During the whole process you would give him soft kisses and tell him how proud you are of him and encourage him.

Charles watched you with nothing but loving eyes as he felt his whole body feel the warmth of your kind soul. Every touch and gaze from you made him feel loved, cared for and… and appreciated… finally…He almost teared up again at the thought of having you by his side and how blessed he was.

You lightly laugh at his teared up eyes and hold his face.

„I love you Charles, whatever goes inside of that incredible brain of yours just know that with me you will always be loved and appriciated.“

(Y/n) kisses him and Charles automatically wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to him. You sit on his lap and keep admiring him with a soft smile.

„Merci mon amour, je t'aime du plus profond de mon cœur et de mon âme.“ (thank you my love, i love you from the deepest part of my heart and soul.)

You were about to stand up and grab some clothes for Charles but he held your wrist and gave you a pleading look.

„Mon amour… please…je veux que tu touches tout mon corps, qui brûle de désir pour toi.“ (I want your touch all over my body, its burning in desire for you)

You looked down and saw his bulge growing underneath the towel and Charles blushing red in need and want for you. His hold on your wrist gets tighter and his whines get into your head.

„Je serai un bon garçon pour toi, mon amour“ (I‘ll be a good boy for you my love)

There are definitely more ways of showing appreciation…

HOW YOU GUYS FEELING ABOUT THISSSSSS? This was hunting me all week long after seeing the results of the race :(

Reblogs, comments & feedback are very much appreciated!

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writingforstraykids · 2 months

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I owe you a kiss Pt.4

Pairing: Minchan x femReader (mention of Jisung/Felix)

Word Count: 5903

Summary: Chan arrives at the hospital to be there for his family in person. The news they receive about you aren't what they expected and Minho can't help but blame himself. Your husbands try to navigate their life as you recover.

Warnings/Tags: angst, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, mention of blood, mention of a panic attack, coma, mention of sleeping pills, mention of throwing up (no further descriptions) min feels guilty, anxious!min, soft!chan

A/N: I sure hope you don't hate me as much as last week...🥺🖤

PART THREE | PART FIVE

Chan's heart drops to his stomach as he sees him. Tears stream down his face, and he looks terrified. Truly terrified. There's blood on his shirt, there's blood on the hand he uses to try and wipe away his tears. “Minho, fuck, where are you?”

“Hospital” is all he gets out.

“Why, what…Minho, where's Y/N?” he asks, his stomach tightening in fear at the pained sound that leaves Minho when your name is mentioned. “Min?”

Minho's breathing picks up, and he clutches the fabric of his pants tightly, trying to steady himself. “Someone crashed into our car, I-I swear it wasn't my fault. T-The airbag didn't open a-and-,” he breaks off with a sob. “Channie, there was so much blood,” he whimpers.

“Where's Y/nnie?” he asks, barely audible, blank fear taking over him.

“She's in surgery right now. Channie, they don't know if-” he can't say it, but meeting Chan's terrified eyes, he knows he gets it. “I'm so sorry,” he buries his face in his knees with a heavy sob.

Tears fill his eyes and he hates himself for not being there and able to hold him tight and not let go. “Minnie, baby, I'm sure it's not your fault,” he says gently and gets up, grabbing his suitcase. “Hannah!” he shouts through the house, not caring that his parents already went to bed. He needs to get back home as soon as possible.

Hannah is there in a few seconds, a little shocked by her brother's distraught look. “What's wrong?” she asks worriedly.

“I need to get home right now,” he tells her, and she nods gently. “Min, I'll figure this out, I promise. I'll be there as quickly as I can, okay?” Hannah's worries deepen at the timid answer Minho gives. “I know you have other things to worry about, but please let them check up on you, okay? I wouldn't want you to be hurt and notice too late.”

“Okay, Channie,” he sniffles. “What if she…?”

“Don't think that way,” Chan tells him softly. “Y/nnie’s a fighter, she'll push through. I'll let you know when I'm at the airport.”

Hannah already started packing her brother's suitcase, glancing at him worriedly as he exchanged goodbyes. “You look like shit, what happened?”

“They got into an accident,” he says and already dials another number. “They don't know if Y/N..,” he breaks off, and Hannah pulls him into a tight hug.

“She'll be okay; she always is,” she promises. “Now go call your fancy staff and get your VIP privileges; I'll pack.”

“Thank you,” he nods.

Minho looks up from his chair as the door to the room opens, and Felix slips inside. “What are you -?”

“Chan called and told me you could use someone,” Felix explains. He takes off his jacket and sits down next to him. He offers his hand, and Minho takes it, squeezing it gently. “Any news?”

“No,” he whispers timidly. “Still nothing,” he says. It's an hour ago that he called Chan. Someone checked up on him after cleaning the blood from his face and hands. “I didn't get hurt,” he says, and his face grows pale. “She was unconscious before I could do a thing, hit her head pretty hard. Felix there was so much blood,” he says mindlessly, as if he's giving him the facts on a new comeback.

Felix hums gently and rubs his shoulder. “I stopped by your place and got you some clothes. Maybe go and change, hm?” he suggests, spotting the blood on his shirt.

Minho stands up in a routine move, grabs his clothes, and locks himself in the bathroom. He meets his reflection in the mirror and closes his eyes, shivering softly. Fuck.

Felix glances up as he comes back and nods towards the small sofa in the corner of the room. He sits down there and pulls Minho into a hug. “I'm so sorry, Min.”

“It's not your fault,” Minho says tiredly and relaxes a little in his warm embrace. It's the first time something as shocking as this has happened, and none of his partners are there to hold his hand.

“I know,” Felix nods gently. “But still. You've already had a rough few months with Chan feeling like shit and then leaving.”

“Life is shit sometimes,” Minho shrugs, and his eyes flutter close when Felix starts running his hand through his hair. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course.”

The flight back home has never felt as long as today. Never. About two hours ago he had gotten a message from Minho, short and simple, but it was enough.

Kitten🖤: She'll make it.

Chan quickly makes his way out of the airport and stops at home for ten minutes. Felix had told him to get home first, take a quick shower, and change clothes. None of them knew how long they'd be stuck at the hospital. Chan got into his car after and drove to the hospital, rushing up to your floor as soon as he knew where. Opening the door, he sees Felix sitting on the sofa in the back and gives him a quick wave.

Minho is by your bed, head resting on his arm on the mattress and seems asleep. Dried tear streaks cover his face and Chan's throat tightens at how exhausted he looks even in his sleep. And then there's you, looking as pale as the sheets, your head wrapped up safely. Your hand lies in Minho's, and only your chest moving tells him you're alive. Chan finds himself in Felix's arms before he fully registers the scene and hugs back tightly.

“Hey, mate,” Felix whispers, not wanting to wake Minho up. “I'll leave you to it, yeah? So that you know Minho does blame himself for what happened. We don't know when she'll wake up, but the doctor said she will.”

Chan nods gently before flashing him a tired smile. “Thank you for being here.”

“Obviously,” Felix snorts and gently pats his chest. “Welcome home, I guess.”

A little later, they're alone, and Chan timidly steps closer to Minho, sitting down on the chair next to him. His hand finds his lower back almost naturally and he very gently picks him up into his lap. A soft protesting sound leaves Minho's lips but he's too tired actually to question the action. Minho curls up in his arms, the way he always does, as if deep down he knows it's Chan. Chan makes sure he's comfortable and plants a tiny kiss on his hair, soothingly fondling his head. Only then did it hit him how much he had missed you two.

Minho wakes up later, feeling warm and comfortable. He subconsciously cuddles close before his brain slowly picks up on Chan's so familiar scent and the way his body feels against him, and he sits up straight rapidly. “Channie,” he breathes out, his eyes getting teary.

“Hi, kitten,” he says softly and presses their foreheads together. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he confesses quietly. “I'm sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” he asks gently. “Lee Minho, if you blame yourself for what happened now, I will smack your ass. Not in a good way.”

A weak laugh escapes him, and he gently shoves his chest. “Of course I do. I'd rather get hurt than her.”

“She'd say the same if it were you,” he says and gently rubs his shoulder. “Nevertheless, it's not your fault.”

“Channie?” he whispers timidly. “I really don't believe that and…,” he trails off with a sniffle.

“I'm here now, let it out,” he says softly, and Minho's head drops down in his chest with a broken sound. Chan holds him tight, trying to make him feel as safe and comforted as possible. Minho shuffles into his lap, straddling him and pulling him into a tight hug. They hold onto each other firmly and find comfort in their shared pain for a bit. “I'm so sorry I wasn't there.”

“Don't,” Minho stops him, burying his hand in his hair. “You're here now.”

“I didn't mean what I said in that call,” Chan tells him nevertheless. “I was planning to surprise you for your birthday in two weeks after.”

Minho sniffles softly and squeezes him. “Yeah? So you've been getting better?”

“I have,” Chan nods and kisses his cheek. “It's still not completely, but it's so much better.”

“That's good,” he tells him. “I'm proud of you, Channie.”

“I love you,” Chan says gently. “So so much.”

Minho smiles a little at that and takes a deep breath. He is better. “I love you too, Channie.”

Minho firmly holds Chan's hand as they lean against the wall opposite your room. About twenty minutes ago, the doctor sent them away as you started to tremble. Since then, no one has talked to them. Another doctor shuffled into the room, and Minho could tell Chan was getting anxious from there on.

Chan grows awfully quiet next to him, staring at the floor and seeming like he's far away. Minho is shaking a little, tapping his fingers against his thigh anxiously. Chan soothingly rubs his knuckles and squeezes his hand for the tenth time. “They said she'd be okay, right?” he asks.

Minho glances at him awkwardly. “They said she'd make it…whatever that means for the rest.”

Chan huffs softly and nods, Minho is right. “Am I the only one feeling like throwing up?”

“God no,” Minho laughs weakly. “Have been since the accident.”

Chan glances at him worriedly. “You should've told me.”

He shrugs tiredly and cracks his neck with a soft moan. “I always am when I'm worried. There's nothing you could've done.”

Chan nods and traces his eyes up and down his body. “But you're not dizzy? Are you having a headache? Or anything?”

Minho steps in front of him and takes both of his hands. “I'm okay, physically. They checked everything, I promise,” he tells him softly and Chan pulls him into a hug. He lets him, only then noticing that Chan is shaking himself by now. “Deep breaths, we'll be alright.”

“Okay,” Chan whispers.

“We'll be okay,” Minho repeats himself as if to convince them both.

“Okay,” Chan nods, and Minho pulls back from him as the door opens. Their hands don't part as the doctor leads them to an office nearby and asks them to sit down. Chan looks like he's about to throw up now and Minho is dancing at the edge of a lingering panic attack.

“Mr. Lee, you've asked me to wait for a proper update on your wife's state until your husband arrives,” she starts out, and Chan gently grabs Minho's hand, squeezing it. “I have an update on the condition of your wife and I'm afraid it isn't what you'd like to hear. The impact injured her frontal bone, which punctured her brain. We could fix this with the surgery,” the doctor tells them.

Both of them are smart enough not to be too relieved already. “And besides that?” Minho asks timidly, not having missed that warning before.

She gives him a compassionate smile. “Well, for one there'll probably be the usual aftermaths like nightmares or even fear of sitting in a car again. That isn't everything, though.”

“Stop sweet talking and tell us what we're dealing with, please,” Chan says kindly, heart thumping in his throat.

“Your wife seems to have suffered more trauma than we thought, especially after the surgery. She's in a coma, and we don't know when or if she'll wake-.”

“If?” Minho asks, barely audible, his hand slipping from Chan’s. “But…you said she’d make it.”

She flashes him a compassionate smile. “That’s before her body shut down, she seemed stable before. I’m really sorry.”

“For fucks sake,” he breathes out and slowly pushes himself up from his chair. “You’re saying there’s a chance she’ll never wake up again? What then? You expect me to tell you when to turn it all off?”

“Minho,” Chan speaks up gently and turns in his chair to face him. There’s nothing but blank fear in his eyes, and he looks at the doctor in front of them so desperately it breaks his heart. “It’s not her fault.”

“No shit, Chan!” Minho snaps at him, and Chan’s gaze grows firm.

“Don’t do this. Not here,” he says calmly, and Minho scoffs at him.

“My image as an idol is the last thing I care about right now, Mr. Golden Boy,” he presses out and shakes his head, leaving the room without another word.

Chan sighs heavily and turns back at the doctor, smiling apologetically. “I apologize, he didn’t mean it.”

“I'll be quick,” she assures him kindly. We don't know how soon she'll wake up again. In case she does, someone has to take care of her. I know you're both very busy. Is there anyone else, just in case?”

“Besides a friend of hers not really, no,” Chan says worriedly. “Her family doesn't live exactly close.”

“If she can go back home soon…Mr. Bahng, there's a high chance this will take months, maybe a year, until she fully regains her abilities. We don't know how bad it'll affect her yet, there's a potential for memory loss. I will inform you about eventual treatments and everything when it's time. I'm really sorry and I wish you and your husband the best of luck and strength with this new situation.”

Chan exchanges another few words before quickly rushing outside and trying the closest bathroom as the hallway is empty. Luckily, Minho seemed to have forgotten to lock the door. Minho's on his knees, retching even though there's nothing left. Chan crouches down behind him, gently rubbing his shoulders. “Hey, baby, deep breaths.”

Minho whimpers and falls back against him, sobbing. “Please, please tell me this isn't true. Not our sweet Y/nnie.”

Chan swallows down tears, trying to stay strong for both of them. Minho has been carrying everyone's shit on his shoulders for too long now. It's time he steps up again. “It'll be okay, we'll be okay,” he promises and rocks him gently as Minho allows himself to break down in his arms. “Shh, it's okay, Minnie baby, it's okay, I got you.”

Chan stares at you, deep in thoughts, trying to make sense of the past few hours. The thought of you possibly never waking up again is killing him. He feels guilty for not being there those past months. What if he missed all this time with you? Just because he hadn't been feeling so well? His chest tightens, and he sucks in a sharp breath, subconsciously reaching for Minho next to him. Every word dies in his throat, seeing his husband. Minho stares at the floor, hot tears running down his cheeks and pressing his lips together tightly in an attempt to hold back his sobs. His hair falls into his face, stomach twisting with guilt the longer he thinks about what happened. Chan swallows hard at the sight of his husband, trying not to break down. His shoulders tremble with the impact of his suppressed sobs, and he sniffles softly. Chan gently rubs his back and watches him worriedly as he pushes himself up. He quickly reaches out for him and stares up at him with wide eyes. “Please don't leave,” he whispers, swallowing down his own fear but not fully succeeding. “Please,” he adds, tears brimming his eyes.

Minho looks at him and shakes his head. “I can't breathe in here,” he confesses through tears and shakily holds Chan's hand. “I just wanna go home, please, I’ve been here for hours,” he whimpers.

Chan looks at him quietly before nodding. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees. They're both exhausted and need some sleep. You wouldn't wake up that soon, and they both could use a break. “Okay, I'll drive us home; my car’s outside.”

“For telling you to get yourself together…more or less,” he says and stops at a redlight. “That wasn’t very supportive of me.”

Minho exhales, relieved, and shakily holds onto his hand as Chan gently says his goodbye to you. They leave the hospital in silence, and Chan drives them back home, soothingly rubbing Minho's knee. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Minho asks tiredly, staring at the many buildings passing by.

Minho laughs weakly and rolls his eyes at himself. “It’s okay, you were right. There’s nothing she can do about it right now…Also, I’m sorry for calling you a golden boy.”

“Please, as if I’d take that to heart after those past few months,” he snorts, and Minho smiles at him tiredly.

“I missed you,” he admits and grabs his hand, squeezing it. “It’s good to have you back.”

Chan smiles softly and brings their hands up to his mouth, planting a kiss on his knuckles. “I’m here now, yeah?”

Minho hums quietly in response, and Chan starts driving again.

Back home, Minho stands still for a moment, and Chan watches him worriedly as he starts shaking. Minho sucks in a sharp breath and clutches his chest, bending over with a whimper. “Hey, hey, babe,” he panics a little as Minho sinks to his knees with a groan, curling up and sobbing loudly. “What’s wrong?” he asks, worried that Minho got hurt and just didn’t tell him.

“I'm so sorry,” he whimpers as Chan gets down on the floor next to him. “It's all my fault.”

Chan shakes his head and holds onto him tightly, leaning down. “No, don't say that,” he tells him and helplessly rubs his back. “It's not your fault, baby.” His heart races with how intensely Minho sobs beneath him, and his stomach turns painfully. He has never seen him break down like this in all those many years he has known and then loved him. “Come here, please,” he whispers, tears making their way down his face. Now that they're back home, he can let them flow freely and allow himself to let it out. He heaves him into his lap, and Minho clings onto him firmly, allowing himself a little comfort in his husband's arms. Chan rocks him in his arms, trying to calm his own troubled mind.

“I’m sorry, Channie,” he whimpers and Chan hugs him even tighter in response.

One week later

“Min, baby?” Chan asks, coming back upstairs. “You're ready yet, we gotta-Minho?” he asks worriedly as he spots his husband lying in bed fully dressed. He bites back a sigh and sits down at the edge of the bed. “Min? What's wrong?”

“I don't want to,” he says quietly, seemingly staring right through him.

“What do you mean? We made a promise to stop by every day,” he tries gently.

“I can't go there, okay? Not today,” he shakes his head and subconsciously curls up a little. “I hate hospitals, I hate that she's there, I hate that she's hurt, and there's nothing I can do about it.”

“We should try to be there for her as much as we can, baby,” Chan argues carefully and brushes his hair from his face.

“It’s not like she notices if I’m not there or not,” Minho says.

“The doctor said there’s a chance she can hear us, kitten, remember?” he asks patiently.

“I don’t talk anyway,” he argues weakly.

“Min,” he sighs softly.

“I can't go there, Channie. Please don't make me go there,” he shivers, his eyes brimming with tears. “Please,” he whispers shakily.

Chan crawls into bed and pulls him in close, soothingly running his hand through his hair. “Shh, baby, it's okay.”

“I'm sorry, Channie,” Minho hiccups and buries himself deep into his chest. “I fucked it all up, I'm so sorry.”

“No, Minho, none of that,” he says firmly and shakes his head. “This isn't your fault, none of it.”

“You weren't even there, you don't know that,” he whimpers.

Chan pulls back and cups his face, making him look at him. “I might haven't been there, but I'm here now. I know my husband would do anything to keep that girl of ours safe. I know you would've swapped places in an instant, and I know you'd never put her at risk like that.” His thumbs rub along his cheeks soothingly, and he searches his eyes desperately. “Minho, this isn't your fault, and I’m sure she knows that. She loves you so much, and so do I. Don't blame yourself for something you had no control over.”

“Please don't make me go there again,” he sniffles timidly, eyes wide and filled with guilt.

“I'll go on my own, it's okay, Min,” he assures him and kisses his forehead. “Try and get some rest okay?”

“I keep dreaming about it,” he shakes his head and rubs his face tiredly. “I keep hearing her scream, and then her head hits…Channie, I'm fucked.”

Chan hums gently and rubs soothing circles on his lower back. “If it doesn't get better, we'll get you some help, yeah?” he suggests, and Minho nods tiredly. “For now, I'll give you one of my pills, and you'll be sleeping like a baby.”

“Okay,” he nods gently. Minho gets into some more comfortable clothes again and takes the pill, curling up in his arms. Chan plays with his hair and hums softly, lulling him in with every passing minute. “Love you, Channie hyung.”

“Love you too, Minho baby,” he says softly and kisses his head. Once Minho's actually asleep, he tucks him in and makes sure he's comfortable before he leaves to go and see you. Chan stays with you for a while, talking to himself, telling you about whatever comes to his mind. If he could, he’d stay here all day, but there’s still loads of work to catch up with, and he doesn’t dare leave Minho on his own for too long.

At the company, Chan slowly strolls down the hallway to their practice room and hears the music blasting. He opens the door and finds Felix and Jisung practicing their newest dance. He gives them a tired wave, and Jisung quickly turns off the music.

“Didn’t we agree on you staying home for a few days?” Felix asks him and raises his eyebrows at him.

“It’s suffocating,” he shakes his head, and Jisung glances at him worriedly.

“He’s not getting better, huh?” he asks, and Chan shakes his head.

“I can’t blame him. He was the one driving; I’d blame myself, too. It’s just…today, he simply couldn’t get himself to go to the hospital with me,” Chan tells them quietly and stares at the floor. “I can’t fix this, and it’s driving me insane.”

“Hey,” Jisung says gently. “When you were feeling like shit, neither of them tried to fix you. They held your hand when you needed it and let you go as you needed some space. You can’t fix any of this, just be there for him.”

“I’m trying, Ji, I swear,” Chan huffs, frustrated, tears burning in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have left.”

“And what would have that changed?” Felix asks gently. “The only difference that could’ve been would be you driving. You think Minho would stand here any differently now then?”

“I hurt him,” Chan says and they frown at him softly. “We got into a fight, and Y/nnie took him out for dinner to cheer him up because I’ve been a complete asshole. She texted me, saying how hurt he was and…maybe he would’ve reacted more quickly and-.”

“Chan,” Felix says firmly. “We’ve seen the footage, there was no chance. The other driver was drunk and racing down that street. There’s nothing he could’ve done. If you truly don’t blame him, you can’t blame yourself either. If you’re saying you made him too caught up in his thoughts to prevent the accident, you’re not only blaming yourself here.”

Chan tiredly rubs his face before nodding. “Yeah, okay, sorry.”

“You should get back home and get some rest,” Jisung says softly and pulls him into a tight hug. “There’s no use in staying here and beating yourself up, worrying about Min when you could be with him right now.”

“Yeah, I know,” he nods and squeezes them both tightly. “I’ll just sort a few things out, then I’ll be gone, promise.”

“Alright,” they nod and wave goodbye.

So three hours in total later, Chan gets back home and quietly glances into their bedroom. Minho's still deep asleep, and Chan decides to join him while he works. He sits down on the bed next to him and gently runs his hand through his hair, turning on his laptop. He sighs softly, spotting the fading bruises on his arm and the healing cut right below his hairline. Of course, Minho had been hurt by the impact as well, but the shock and gravity of your situation made him downplay his own injuries. Chan only found out accidentally when they took a bath two days ago to relax a little. “Oh, kitten,” he whispers to himself and shakes his head at him.

Minho wakes up another three hours later, rolling away from him drowsily. His brain feels fuzzy, his vision is foggy, and he needs a moment to comprehend he's awake. He rubs his face with a groan and blinks heavily, trying to stay awake. Turning onto his back, he spots Chan next to him and squints at him. “Why the fuck are they so strong?” he rasps, voice laced heavily with sleep.

“Well, because I need them to sleep,” he chuckles and gently fondles his hair. “You slept alright?”

“Mhm,” he hums sleepily and stretches his body with a low groan. “How's Y/nnie?” he asks timidly.

“No changes yet,” Chan tells him and thoughtfully stares out of the window. “Min?”

“Hm?”

“I think you should take a break,” Chan says, not looking at him.

Minho shoots up and stares at him. “Why?” he asks dangerously low, suddenly fully awake.

“You're exhausted, baby. You deserve a break,” Chan says, glancing at him.

“And it's just that?” Minho asks sharply, and Chan frowns at him. “Not because you think I'm losing it?”

“What? No,” he quickly shakes his head. “I swear it's because you're exhausted, you worked double with me gone.”

“More like triple because you do way too much, but yeah,” he snickers before huffing softly. “Yeah, okay, you're probably right. Can you sort that shit out?”

Chan smiles knowingly. “I already did. You're on break for a month besides group interviews that get recorded or those two live performances we have coming up.”

“Okay,” he nods, agreeing. “That won't stop me from dragging you home from the studio if you stay too long.”

“I’ll be careful,” he promises and squeezes his hand. “You’re okay?”

“I know,” he giggles softly. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“You’re a menace, Chan,” he shakes his head. “If you don’t cut back a little, you’ll end up overwhelmed and overworked again in a month.”

Minho’s eyes flicker away from his, and he nods firmly. “Of course I am.”

“Kitten?” he asks softly. “Can you promise me something?”

“Depends,” he squints at him suspiciously.

“I need you to be honest with me. If you’re struggling, feeling lost, or overwhelmed, let me know. No matter where I am, no matter how late it is,” Chan says, and Minho stares at him quietly for a minute. “Minho?”

“I can try,” he whispers and searches his eyes. “No, I will try. I promise. Just…don’t expect too much, you know how I am.”

“Yeah, okay,” Chan nods worriedly, and Minho gently kisses his cheek.

“I’ll be fine, I always am,” he says.

One and a half months later

After skipping that one time, it took him a week to go back to the hospital. After that, he didn’t miss a day, sometimes coming here with Chan and sometimes, when Chan’s schedule didn’t fit, coming on his own. He couldn’t deal with not seeing you and talking to you, even though you never answered.

Minho greets the nurse with a kind smile and nervously clutches the flowers in his hand. “Any news?”

“Not yet, Mr. Lee,” she says gently. “She’s stable, that’s what counts. It isn’t getting any worse. Don’t give up hope.”

Minho nods gently. “I won’t,” he says before excusing himself and stepping into your room. He closes the door quietly behind himself and sighs softly, seeing you. “Hey, Y/nnie,” he says gently and makes his way around the bed, replacing the old flowers with the ones he brought. “Got you some flowers…you would like those,” he says and sits down on the chair next to your bed. For a while he simply watches you, watches your chest rising and falling, your lashes resting against your cheeks. The bandages around your head are gone by now, and he hesitantly reaches out, caressing your cheek. “God, I miss you,” he sighs softly and braces himself on the mattress, taking your hand between his. “It’s so quiet at the house now when Channie’s working. Sometimes, I’m stupid enough to believe you’ll come around the corner every second and ask for cuddles. Or ask if I can make you dinner, I miss cooking with you so much,” he rambles on mindlessly. “You’d be surprised how much has changed since you’re not home. Chan is home before twelve every night, can you believe that? He’s really taking care of himself now, you’d be so proud. Also, he asked me to teach him some things around the kitchen, I think he did it so I wouldn’t get bored. I’m seeing a therapist now…never thought I’d ever need that. Apparently, there’s more stuff in my life I need to work through besides that stupid accident. She’s nice, you’d like her,” he says and trails off for a while. Your face before his eyes gets blurry as his eyes brim with tears and his throat tightens up.

It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to feel like shit about what happened. It’s okay to feel guilty. As long as it doesn’t stop you from moving on with your life and eventually smiling again. He doesn’t know how often he heard those first three sentences in the past few weeks.

Minho inhales shakily and squeezes your hand in his. “I miss you so much, honey. I miss your laugh, I miss acting stupid with you, I miss holding your hand or pulling you close and swaying you through the kitchen. I miss holding you when you’re asleep, and I never thought I’d miss carrying the grocery bags for you this badly. Fuck, I miss your voice and those beautiful eyes looking at me like I deserve all the love you have for me,” he sniffles softly and presses his trembling lips together for a second. “Can you try and wake up soon, Y/nnie honey? I can’t stay strong forever,” he presses out, and his shoulders shake with a suppressed sob. He doesn’t notice the door opening and flinches a little as someone wraps his arms around his waist. Chan’s familiar scent surrounds him, and Minho instinctively leans into his touch. “I’m okay,” he whispers.

“I know,” Chan answers quietly and kisses his cheek. “Some days are just harder than others.”

“Yeah,” Minho sniffles softly and stays in his arms, your hand in his pressed against his face. “You’re early,” he speaks up after a while.

“We finished early,” he nods and mindlessly rubs his side. “Thought I’d stop by and pick you up.”

“Thanks, love,” he says gently. He doesn’t feel safe driving yet, and Chan made sure to pick him up personally whenever he could. Minho pulls back from you with a sniffle, gently resting your hand on the mattress. “No update yet, but they told me it’s a good sign that her state isn’t getting worse.”

“Okay, that’s something,” Chan nods, agreeing, and gets himself a chair, lifting Minho in his lap. “You wanna talk about today?” he asks, gently rubbing his thighs.

“Maybe tomorrow?” he asks, turning in his hold. Chan nods understandingly and squeezes his hand.

“That’s fine,” he says, resting his head on his shoulder. “You know you don’t have to tell me about therapy, but I’m there if you want to.”

“I know,” Minho smiles thankfully and watches you thoughtfully. “I see her every day, and still, I miss her like crazy.”

“Yeah, me too,” Chan nods. “I’m so glad to have you still…I’d go insane on my own.”

“Oh, me too,” he chuckles softly. “You wanna leave? Or can we stay for another bit?”

“We can stay as long as you want to, kitten,” he promises.

One week later

Minho unlocks the front door to your house and drags himself inside. After a quick visit this morning he had been at the company, practicing for an upcoming performance. It’s been two months since you fell into a coma, and according to the doctor, you’re slowly starting to make progress. She told them there was a high chance it wouldn’t take all too long anymore for you to wake up. Minho didn’t care one bit how long it would still take. The fact that you’d wake up again had been everything he needed.

He frowns softly at how quiet the house is. Shouldn’t Chan already be home? Minho slips out of his shoes and calls out for him, getting no answer. “Channie, love?” he asks again, strolling into the living room area. His eyes widen at the sight in front of him, and he covers his mouth in shock. “What the fuck?”

The living room is dark but illuminated by the many strings of light adorning the walls. A huge bouquet of red roses rests beautifully in a vase on top of the sofa table, and the sweet scent of fresh brownies lingers in the air. Minho turns at the sound of the door opening and sees his husband stepping inside with a bottle of wine. “Channie?” he asks softly.

Chan’s eyes widen, spotting him, and his face falls checking his watch. “Hey! You’re home early,” he protests.

“Obviously,” Minho giggles and frowns at him. “What’s all that about? Did I miss something? It’s not our anniversary, right?” he asks worriedly.

Chan puts down the bottle of wine and shakes his head. “I just realized it’s been six long months since I did something nice for you with everything going on. I wanted to surprise you and - no, why are you crying?” he asks softly.

“Sorry,” he giggles through tears. “Happy tears, I swear,” he promises and messily wipes his cheeks.

“Fucker,” he breathes out as his own eyes fill with tears seeing him beaming with joy after all this time.

Minho giggles wetly and closes the distance between them, hugging him so forcefully it makes Chan stumble for a moment. “You’re so sweet.”

Chan smiles brightly and buries his face in his shoulder. “I love you so much, kitten.”

“I love you too,” he whispers and pulls back, beaming at him. They sink into each other’s eyes and Minho can’t help giving in to the invisible string pulling them closer. Their lips meet in a slow, sweet kiss and Minho melts into him, hand buried in his curls.

“I worried this would be too cheesy,” Chan giggles breathlessly as he pulls back for a moment.

“Don’t you ever dare stop being cheesy, yeah?” he whispers.

“Never,” he promises, giggling, and seals the deal with another soft kiss.

PART THREE | PART FIVE

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@atinyniki @kailee08 @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @ontito0icongirls @furiousheartpoetry @bluesiebirdie @scarlet789 @ziipzeepzop-eez @harshaaaaa @lost-in-avoidance

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waynes-multiverse · 2 months

Note

hello ! hope your having a great day, wanted to ask your thoughts (maybe a dirty drabble??) on Soldier Boy or Beau having an s/o that is artistic or draws/paints a lot? 👀 Currently working on pieces for my uni and in dire need of motivation to get it done😭 anyways i love all your work !!!! 🖤🖤🖤🖤

A/N: What a fun idea! Couldn't resist to write both of 'em, so I hope those two idiots bring you enough motivation 🎨💪😂

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Artist!Reader // Soldier Boy x Artist!Reader

Warnings: +18/NSFW, super light smut, tons of fluff, SB typical behavior, crack

Word Count: 1.1k

Main Masterlist || Dirty Drabbles Masterlist

French Boys

Beau Arlen:

As his car stopped in front of your house, Beau could see the lights still burning brightly in the garage, knowing you were still hard at work.

“Hey,” he greeted you as he stood by the door, watching you with a warm smile.

Your gaze drifted from your canvas to him with a smile before spying the brown paper bag in his hand.

“Brought you something. Figured you were gonna burn the midnight oil and needed some fuel,” he said with a knowing smile.

“You’re a godsend,” you said with a happy sigh and took the bag from him, inhaling the smell of its delicious contents. “I’m sorry I’ve been locked up here so much. It’s just… I’m really nervous about the gallery opening this weekend, and it’s stressing me the fuck out and–,” you rambled before you were stopped by his large palms on your cheeks.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed you, chuckling, and pecked your hairline sweetly. “I get it. You’re gonna do great, alright? Amazing, in fact.”

You let out a deep, calming breath and smiled up at him. How did you deserve such a good man? And where the hell have you found him?

“I love you,” you said and draped your arms around him, crashing your lips against his and entangling him in a searing kiss that showed your gratitude. But as you pulled back, your eyes widened in shock. You clasped your mouth.

“What?” Beau looked at you confused before he caught your gaze locked on his shoulders and saw the red-painted handprints on his jeans jacket.

“I’m so sorry,” you gasped, embarrassed. You’d been working with paint everywhere all day. Of course it was all over you at this point.

To your surprise, though, Beau broke into loud laughter and shook his head at you. “Honey, it’s okay,” he told you before his freckled face was overtaken by a mischievous look. “In fact…”

He leaned over to one of your paint cans and dipped his finger inside a white one before booping your nose. You could feel a wet, cold blob on your tip as you gaped at him.

“You did not just do that.” You were speechless, but his playful laugh was contagious and intoxicating.

“Oh, it’s so on,” you announced and dunked your hand in a shade of blue, splattering it graciously on him.

“Oh yeah? Hope you’re ready ‘cause this means war, darlin’,” he countered with a wide grin, his hands finding green and yellow.

He chased you through the garage until he caged you in his arms, your mouth erupting with giggles until he filled it with kisses. Paint was everywhere, your clothes soaked and his beard and hair sprinkled like a cupcake.

“We’re never gonna get clean again,” you noted through giggles, looking at the beautiful mess in front of you as you brushed your fingers through his locks.

Beau lifted you up on your workbench, your legs locking around his waist. He kissed you deeply, feeling his excitement growing between your thighs.

“Guess we’ll just have to stay dirty then,” he said with a smirk and claimed your lips.

Soldier Boy:

You were curled up on the couch in your apartment, your eyes flickering between the bowl of fruit on the coffee table and your sketch pad in your hands.

Your concentration, however, was broken when a loud thud echoed off the walls and almost shattered the coffee table in a thousand pieces, sending the bowl of fruit flying across the room.

Your eyes lifted from your sketch pad and to your boyfriend in front of you, propped up with one muscular leg on the small table, elbow resting on his thigh with a bulging biceps and a painfully hard cock.

Annoyed, you huffed a sigh but weren’t surprised. You had been working on your assignment all day and wondered when your needy-ass, attention-seeking supe boyfriend would get bored with watching TV and smoking weed in your room.

“Ben, what the hell are you doing?” You looked up at him and saw the broad and proud smirk on his freckled face.

Cocksure didn’t even do him justice.

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Figured I’d give you something better to draw than a fucking boring-ass banana.”

“Uhm… that is so sweet and considerate of you. But I really need to draw fruit this week. That’s the assignment,” you said wryly before pushing him out of the way.

Well, as best as you could. He was a supe after all, but he budged and bent to your movement.

Pursing his lips, he threw his arms up in upset. “Oh, really? And what the fuck is all this shit, huh?”

Dramatically, he tossed one of your art maps on the table and crossed his arms over his broad chest, waiting for an explanation. As you peeked at the scattered sketches of naked men (and women), you knew what this was about.

You rolled your eyes back with a deep sigh. Of course he snooped through your stuff when you left him unsupervised in your room. “Ben, I told you already. We were drawing human models last month.”

“You never fucking said they were naked!” he argued, his deep voice trembling with jealousy and fury. “So, what? You’re just off, drawing cocks all day at that art school of yours?! I won’t fucking allow it, Y/N!”

You stifled a snort and tried to remain calm. He was honestly cute when he was greener than his suit. “Honey, you don’t have to be jealous. You know I love you... and your giant-ass dick.”

Biting the insides of his cheeks, he blushed slightly as he calmed down. “Yeah, well, you fucking better. ‘Sides, I’m not jealous. My cock’s way better than whatever those crooked-ass dicks are. Can’t even see them without a fucking magnifying glass…”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” you feigned your agreement and hid your amused smile, nodding heavily. You stood up from the couch and locked your arms around his broad shoulders. You pulled his lips to yours, kissing him passionately until all his worries faded. His dick twitched between your legs. “You know, sometimes I’m surprised how you don’t explode with that giant ego of yours, welling from every pore.”

“Oh, you want me to explode?” Ben looked challengingly at you, smirking. “I can arrange that. In fact, how about I make you my fucking canvas and splatter my paint all over you, huh?”

“Ben, what–…” You burst into laughter, which was swiftly turned into a giggling shriek of protest as he grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder, carrying you to the bedroom.

What do you guys think? Which mess was harder to clean in the aftermath? 😂💚

TAGS:

Everything Jensen:

@alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @imsapphine @globetrotter28

#dirty drabbles #beau arlen #soldier boy #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #beau arlen smut #soldier boy smut #big sky #the boys

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jakeyt · 4 months

Text

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!)

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfic #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fanfic #jake fic #jake kiszka #covet #my fics

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nicoline1998enilocin · 7 months

Note

Ok. Hear me out on this one. How about a Sebastian stan fic where he is on set [Pam and Tommy] and reader comes in to pick him up after filming but they end up have car sex. Say they've been dating or engaged for a while?? Idk this idea just popped into my head last night 😆 lol.

Inked with desire

Pairing | Fiancé!Sebastian Stan x Fiancée!Female!Reader

Word count | ~ 800 words

Summary | You're picking up Sebastian from the set of Pam and Tommy to go to a dinner reservation, ready to celebrate your 7th anniversary together. Plans change, however, when he sees you, and he needs you right then and there.

Warning(s) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. RPF, use of pet names (Babe, Daddy), age gap (Sebastian is in his early 40s, Reader is in her early 30s), smut (unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), Daddy kink, light dirty talk).

A/N | Thank you for this request; it has actually left me speechless. This is honestly one of my favorite roles he's played, and I can never get enough of looking at him like this! I hope you enjoy the route I took with this 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💚

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics | 18+ banner is made by yours truly

Main Masterlist | Sebastian Stan Masterlist

Sebastian recently started filming for the series 'Pam and Tommy,' even though you've seen photos of him in tattoos, you're about to see him entirely in character for the first time today.

You're getting yourself ready for dinner with him since it's your 7th anniversary today, and you've bought a red velvet dress just for this occasion and to make him go a little crazy, too. He loves seeing you in red, so you're playing into that perfectly with this risky number.

The dress is paired with black heels, subtle make-up, hair in loose curls around your shoulders, and the handbag Sebastian gifted you for your anniversary to finish the look.

When Sebastian texts you that filming is done, you're driving over to the film set, though you won't get far after he's spotted you because you're both lusting after one another when you arrive on the set.

''E-Excuse me, do you happen to know where Sebastian is?'' you ask a woman walking from the set, and she happily points you toward his trailer, where he's getting ready for dinner.

You knock a few times, and Sebastian tells you to come in, so you open the door and walk up the few steps, careful not to fall in your heels.

''Is this a good time? I can wait outside-'' you say, but you don't finish the sentence when you see Sebastian looking at you, his jaw slack as he takes in your outfit.

He shakes his head as he snaps out of it and almost forgets to introduce you to his co-star, Lily.

''I'm sorry, Y/N, this is Lily. Lily, this is my amazing fiancée Y/N,'' he says as you stretch out a hand and happily shake her hand, saying how nice it is to meet her finally.

''You look amazing as Pam, and I can't wait to see the result once it finally comes out,'' you tell her, and Sebastian not so discreetly pulls you into his side, his hand laying on your ass, barely covered by your dress.

''I should go. It was lovely to meet you, and I can't wait to see you around again,'' Lily says before saying goodbye to Sebastian. As soon as the door shuts behind her, he's all over you. His hands touch you everywhere, pawing at every inch of your body, his lips taste your skin as if it's the first time he's ever tasted you.

''S-Seb, we have to go to dinner,'' you say, and he knows you're right, but it's so damn hard to behave himself when you look like this.

He changes into his dinner outfit, and the two of you head out to your car, conveniently placed in a darker bit of the parking lot, though that wasn't planned when you arrived. Now, however, you'll be thrilled that you did.

''Can't wait to fuck you, Babe, need you right fucking now,'' Sebastian growls before pushing you against the door of your car, his lips crashing onto yours and his hands wandering to open the door.

Once he found the handle, he let you go and turned you around so he could climb into the backseat, letting you crawl on top of him just the way he liked. You pull the door shut behind you, and Sebastian has already made quick work of his pants.

''Need you so bad, Daddy, need you to fuck my brains out,'' you say with a whining voice, and Sebastian pulls up your dress, revealing the fact that you went, in fact, without panties this evening, and he only gets more turned on by it.

''I'm ready for you, Daddy, please,'' you beg softly, and Sebastian is so hard it hurts, so he quickly lines up with your entrance, a deep groan leaving his chest when you sink in a smooth motion, desperate to be filled by him.

A broken moan leaves your body as you adjust to his size, and he pulls you forward to kiss you deeply, his tongue finding its way into your mouth instantly.

When you start rolling your hips, he grabs hold of your ass and starts thrusting up into you rapidly, broken moans and groans leaving your bodies as you chase both your highs simultaneously.

''D-Daddy! 'm cumming!'' you say as he hits your sweet spot just right, and you're falling apart around him, squeezing the life out of him as you cum, followed by him soon after.

You collapse on top of him as you're both regaining your strength.

''How about we skip dinner and go straight home? I want to make you fall apart on my fingers, tongue, and cock for the rest of the night, and I can't wait any longer than I have to,'' Sebastian whispers in your ear, and you nod, wanting precisely that.

''Yes, Daddy. Please.''

#sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female!reader #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan #seb stan #seb stan fanfic #seb stan fanfiction #seb stan fluff #seb stan smut #seb stan x reader #seb stan x female!reader #seb stan x female reader

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chrisevansonly · 7 months

Text

𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐨

ʚsocial media au

ʚdaniel ricciardo x female reader

ʚthere is nothing daniel loves more than watching you shine bright

ʚnot requested just a little something i wanted to do! faceclaim is taylor russell my literal love🤍

yninstagram

liked by danielricciardo, vogue, kellypique and 371,000 others

paris fashion week (month) are you ready?

see 17,000 comments

loewe we’re so ready for you!

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username mother

username she never EVER misses

danielricciardo holy smokes

danielricciardo 😍😍😍😍

>yninstagram 😘😘

vogue stunning as always!

kellypique i’m in love!!!

>yninstagram see you soon😌

username i would go to battle for y/n

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danielricciardo

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our day summed up in two photos, no explanation

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username Y/N IS SO SQUISH

username it’s the way they both look at each other for me

maxverstappen1 tone it down mate, those looks are for me only

>danielricciardo well i was thinking of you in this moment

>yninstagram mhm🤨

username y/n will fight you max be afraid

>yninstgram what they said😌

yninstagram i love our crazy days danny🩷

liked by danielricciardo

username i feel like they heal each others inner child

yninstagram

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🖤🖤

see 7,000 comments

username im going feral, insane, crazy, psycho

username y/n i’m on my knees please!!!

louisvuitton she is the moment

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username 😩😩😩

danielricciardo a work of art

danielricciardo i’m so fucking lucky

>yninstagram love you honey🥰

francisca.cgomes um hello

>yninstagram hi gorgeous 😉

>pierregasly 🤨

>danielricciardo 🤨

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danielricciardo

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i was her plus 1 but she’s the main event and my everything, so damn proud of you baby

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username CARS ARE CRASHING, PEOPLE ARE CRYING

username i just slammed headfirst into a door

ellemagazine these comments are how we feel

username i just think i need to cry myself to sleep

yninstagram aw baby, i wouldn’t be here without your help, thank you for your love and support my darling❤️

>danielricciardo so so proud of you, i love you more.

landonorris mate how did you even manage this?

>danielricciardo my charm and charisma, two things you wouldn’t know anything about

>landonorris LISTEN UP

username im sick over these 😵‍💫

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happiest because of you, thank you for making me smile❤️

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username i’ll cry myself to sleep how about that?

username y/n and danny are made for each other

danielricciardo happiest because of you❤️

danielricciardo my soul mate i swear

>yninstagram i love you forever and ever and ever

username when is it my turn?

lilyhme tearing up🥲

>yninstagram me too honestly 🥹

username their relationship is EVERYTHING to me

username i love my parents

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#rueswrites #ruesanswers #ruesanons<3 #ruesasks #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo smau #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x fem!reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x girlfriend reader #daniel ricciardo x wife reader #daniel ricciardo fluff #formula 1 smau #formula 1 masterlist #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #f1 smau

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mrs-snape5984 · 1 month

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“Take my mind and take my pain…”

“Like an empty bottle takes the rain. And heal, heal, heal….” (“Heal” by Tom Odell)

Nighttime is my favourite time of the day. Being surrounded by this natural darkness and silence (not in the way, in which I have to “mute” the world all day long by shutting the blinds and wearing noise cancelling headphones to avoid being overstimulated) makes me feel…safe. Almost content.

In some nights, I’m even strong enough to leave my room, so I can sit outside on my balcony, enjoying a fresh breeze on my face. The world is silent, there’s no car on the streets and all I see, is the Moselle glistening in the moonlight in front of me. Finally feeling human again…

During the phases of my crashes, I can’t even step outside to my balcony. Sometimes I’m desperate enough to crawl outside, when my legs are refusing to do their goddamn job even with the help of my cane! In these moments, I’m glad to be alone…without any witnesses to my humiliation.

Last night was a lost night. I passed out…again. It scares me to hell that these moments are happening more often nowadays. All I know, is that I sat down on my bed…crying from exhaustion and pain. And hours later, when I’m coming back to consciousness, I’m still in the same sitting position. There are proofs in my room, that my children must have been here…proofs like a drawing lying next to me on my bed…a plushie sitting on my coffee table, watching over me. And I know that my kids will tell me, that I didn’t wake up…no matter what they tried to do.

Yesterday a friend of mine wanted to visit me in order to enjoy a cup of tea with me in the darkness of my room. I was so excited to see her…to have someone here for a little while…to feel less lonely for a moment. My body ached so badly and my exhaustion felt like a truck, who was parking on me…so I passed out whilst I was waiting for my friend to come over. When I came back to senses, there were several text messages and several calls from her. She was upset, that I didn’t hear the doorbell, both of my phones and her knocking on the door. So, after a while, she left…and all what’s left for me is a feeling of being a total failure…a pathetic shadow of myself.

There’s still no cure for ME/CFS…and no one knows, if there’d ever be one. All I can do, is trying different things, and yet…nothing helped me. With each new crash I’m falling deeper into the void of darkness and despair. Each new crash takes its toll on me…takes a piece of me away! I’m so afraid of losing myself completely!

When I commissioned my friend @sleepybradipo for this meaningful piece of art, I begged him to make the trust between Severus and Julia - but also their despair - palpable. They’re searching for a way to heal Jules…to cure her body and her soul. Maybe the answer lies in the Dark Arts…who knows? These lovers will try anything possible in order to save her…just like I wished to be saved.

Ivano, when I got the idea for this project, I just knew, that you would be the best artist to make my dream come true. Your tender style makes my heart swell with so much love and gratitude. I adore your work and the dedication to all these marvellous details in this artwork…it’s everything, I hoped to see, when I described my idea to you. Thank you for helping me to soothe my troubled heart and mind with your beautiful art and your kind words. I’m beyond grateful that I met you here, my friend. You’re truly a blessing to me. Thank you for everything. 🥹

Oh, and please take my apologies for this chaotically worded post. My disease seems to rob the next piece of me by stealing my ability to create vivid images with my phrases (I already mentioned that in my last post).

I’m sharing my nocturnal view with you. Feel free to enjoy the Moselle at night.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

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monsterrae1 · 8 months

Text

It was a only a kiss (how did it end up like this)

Just a silly ficlet based on this anon that @housewifebuck got 🖤

1.8k | Read on Ao3

One of the first things that Maddie had ever taught him when she taught him how to drive was the importance of wearing his seatbelt. Buck had been 16 years old and he had been traumatized by his sister showing him pictures of accidents where people weren’t wearing their seatbelts. Ever since, Buck would quickly put it on as soon as he was seated in any car.

When he was a probie he would always use the belts in the engine, until he realized that he was the only one doing it, and that it usually made him lag a few seconds behind everyone else, so he quickly stopped doing it. That had been years ago, and he didn’t think about it much now, it wasn’t that big of a deal, he had told himself then that he was saving lives and that meant he could be a little reckless with his own.

And, except for the bombing incident - that Buck would argue didn’t count - none of them had ever gotten hurt because they didn’t wear their seatbelts in the engine, so it wasn’t something that they’d ever talk about. It wasn’t that important.

Of all the accidents that Maddie had shown Buck all those years ago none of them had come near as bad as this one was.

It was a normal day, they were heading to a call and chatter around the engine was flowing, everyone was teasing Chim since he had been a little bit of a groomzilla with some arrangements for his wedding, Buck was sitting in his usual seat across from Eddie, Buck’s knees fitted in between Eddie’s, everyone was laughing at Chim’s expense when the truck came to a sudden stop.

In an universe where both Buck and Eddie had been wearing their seatbelts, nothing would’ve happened, Buck might’ve gotten his breath knocked out of him from the force he was pushed forwards, but nothing more than a bruise would’ve appeared on his skin.

Sadly, in this universe, Buck wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.

There were groans heard all over the cabin, Hen had fallen into the floor, and next to her Ravi had hit his head on Chim’s knee. Luckily for Buck and Eddie, they were all distracted dealing with their own pain to notice the position in which they had landed.

It was a very compromising position. The impulse had thrown Buck forward, making him slide to his knees right between Eddie’s legs, while the bounce back had made Eddie fall forward just as Buck was looking up to make sure that his friend was okay. If you’d ask him now, he wouldn’t be able to tell you how it was exactly that it happened, at least not the initial kiss.

Because as soon as Buck looked up, Eddie fell forward and their lips crashed, quite literally, together. The initial kiss was actually a little painful, Buck was sure he tasted a little blood from where his lip was trapped between Eddie’s and his teeth, both him and Eddie were just staring at each other with their eyes wide open in shock, and their lips still pressed together.

Then, Buck saw as Eddie’s eyelids shut close, and then the pressure from his lips was no longer painful, but more of a soft pressure, it took Buck a second to figure out that Eddie was actually kissing him now, his lips had moved to mold into Buck’s perfectly, and now they were begging Buck’s to wake up and kiss him back.

Which he did, for a second, before the groaning and complaining of their coworkers was loud enough to break them out of the spell they had fallen to; by the time Hen turned to them to ask them if they were okay, they were avoiding each other’s eyes, and blushing.

“Yeah, yeah we’re good” Eddie said quickly.

Buck groaned as he got up and sat back in his seat, “Yeah, say that to my knees” he mumbled, and then looked at the poor state of his uniform, completely covered in dirt, the place where he had landed on was a little scrapped but not enough to be noticeable enough that he’d have to get new slacks, so there was at least that.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, Buck looked up to him, and found him frowning at Buck’s slacks, “They look rough”

“How come you’re completely clean?” Chim asked Eddie, who shrugged in reply and said:

“Well, I mostly landed on Buck? I didn’t really landed on the floor a all”

“Of course you did”

“Sorry everyone,” Bobby said from the front, “Anyone hurt?”

Everyone replied that they were okay, and soon after they were on their way again, rushing off to save lives.

Buck should’ve stopped thinking about the kiss, he should’ve focus on the emergency in front of him and the people needing their help, but all that he could think about was the soft press of Eddie’s lips on his, and how Eddie could’ve pulled away much much sooner than he did, but instead he had decided to kiss Buck, and turned Buck’s world completely upside down.

It wasn’t like Buck hadn’t thought about it before, he’d had one or two dreams about being with Eddie through the years, but Buck had always thought it was just his brain latching to his very attractive best friend while he was going through a very long dry spell, but he had never actually wanted to do any of those things - Or maybe the thought had crossed his mind a long time ago, but he squashed it right down, telling himself that whatever feelings he might have, weren’t worth the risk of losing Eddie.

“Hey,” Eddie’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, he nearly jumped when one of his hands landed on Buck’s hip, but he soon relaxed into the touch, the same he always did when Eddie touched him, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Buck assured him, taking a deep breath, “Just, oh, a lot in my mind”

Eddie smiled at him and nodded, “I can imagine what about” Buck considered his blush was answer enough “Maybe, huh, we can talk about it? Over lunch? After work?”

Buck stared at Eddie, he also had a nice blush lighting up his face, his eyes were gleaming, while he was smiling shyly, a smile that wasn’t all the way there, like he couldn’t fully smile until Buck agreed to go on a date with him.

Eddie had just asked him out on a date.

They had kissed not even two hours ago, and now Eddie was asking him on a date looking adorably nervous and Buck wanted to say yes, to a date, to forever, no anything that Eddie had to offer, and oh. Oh.Oh fuck.

“How long have I been in love with you?” He blurred out instead of saying yes to Eddie’s question.

Eddie blinked owlishly at him, before tilting his head, and finally letting that beautiful smile of his spread over his face.

“Well, I’m hoping as long as I have been in love with you, which is to say a few years now”

“Yeah?” Buck was sure that his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

“Yeah, Buck”

“Okay,” he smiled, “We should talk about, uh, everything I guess, over lunch, a lunch date, you and me”

Eddie rolled his eyes and squeezed Buck’s hip before letting go and turning around to put away the equipment they had used during the call.

“It’s a date!” He called over his shoulder, and Buck had to try very very hard to not giggle like a schoolgirl.

The rest of the shift was tortuously slow, not necessarily because there wasn’t any calls, overall it was a very normal shift; but every time they sat across each other in the engine and their knees brushed together Buck felt himself blush, and when they had down time at the station, Eddie kept himself close to Buck.

The rest of the crew seemed to notice that something had shifted, but no one said anything, at most Hen kept raising her eyebrows at how close Buck and Eddie seemed to be, Buck tried to ignore her knowing looks but the blush in his cheeks might’ve given him away.

By the time the shift ended, Buck couldn’t wait to get out of the station and get to his date with Eddie. His first date with Eddie.

“Ready to head out?” Eddie asked him.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go, want me to drive?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking something low key? Like that sandwich place you really like?”

“Ok, yeah, that sounds perfect”

They stared at each other for a little bit too long, Buck still couldn’t believe that he was going on a date with Eddie, and for the look in Eddie’s face, he was also still processing.

“Okay, let’s go” Eddie said, breaking their trance.

They were halfway through the parking lot when Buck felt Eddie’s hand reach out for his and tangled their fingers together.

They had their second kiss against the jeep, Eddie pushed Buck against it, cradled his head in his hands and then kissed him slowly. This was what their first kiss should’ve been like, not an accidental bump, but Buck couldn’t bring himself to hate it or regret it, since it had led them to finally cross the line and get here.

“Maybe we can skip lunch?” Buck suggested, Eddie chuckled and kissed him again.

“Nope, I’m taking you out on a date, c’mon, we can make out after”

Buck laughed, but finally got into the truck. Their first date felt like any other outing they had done before, the staff wasn’t surprised that they had walked in holding hands or that they couldn’t seem to stop making heart eyes at each other, it made Buck wonder if they had all just assumed they had been together the entire time.

By the time they were done with their food, they wordlessly agreed to go back to Eddie’s house to maybe catch a nap before they needed to go pick up Chris from school, Buck noticed just truly how mixed together their lives already were, how Eddie’s house was already filled with Buck’s stuff, he even had two drawers full of his clothes.

“You okay?” Eddie asked him, when he noticed he had gone quiet while he picked up a t-shirt and some shorts.

“Yeah, just, why hadn’t we gotten together sooner?”

Eddie laughed, “Buck, you didn’t know you were in love with me until we accidentally kissed and I asked you out”

Buck blushed, “Yeah well, you knew, why didn’t you do anything?”

Eddie shook his head, “We weren’t ready, I don’t think, we got here when he needed to,” he shrugged, “that’s all that matters”

Buck kissed him, and couldn’t help but agree with him, he might’ve been a little slow on the update, but at least they had gotten here.

#the entire thing is posted here too #my fics #buddie #buddie ficlet #accidental kissing #just a silly thing sitting on my drafts since monday

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nickfowlerrr · 1 year

Text

keeping secrets - chapter six

series masterlist / chapter seven

keeping secrets writing playlist

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader (dark!soulmate au)

warnings: 18+ only. mention of light injury. angst. smut. if i’m missing something important pls let me know!

words: 5.7k

notes: things are happening 🫣🫣🫣 enjoy the sweetness while you can lol. please let me know what you think about this chapter! there’s so much more to come. thank you in advance for reading! as always, feedback and reblogs are welcome and so appreciated! 🖤

You let the warm water beat down on you as you stood under the steady stream. Vaguely you were aware you were going to take up all the hot water, but if he really wanted a warm shower, Bucky could wait until morning. He wasn’t the one who’d nearly had their nose broken tonight.

When Bucky had pulled up to the safe house, you made your way straight from the car to the bathroom without a word. You made sure you got the dried blood off your skin and then allowed yourself to sulk as the steam of the shower overtook you.

You didn’t shut the water off until the air became nearly unbreathable. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you soon realized you had neglected to bring a change of clothes with you into the bathroom. You silently cursed yourself before drying off as much as you could.

Rewrapping the towel around you as securely as you could, you cracked the door open to see if Bucky was anywhere around. The door to the bedroom was closed, so you counted yourself lucky as you walked out to the living room without feeling so cautious.

You were leaving water prints in your wake with each step down the hallway, but you didn’t really care. As you spotted your duffle still where you’d left it on the couch, you nearly stopped in your tracks as you recognized Bucky sitting on the couch with a tablet in hand.

You straightened your posture and grabbed more securely the towel around you before you continued forward. His back was to you as you approached and when you rounded the couch to get to your bag, you kept your eyes everywhere but on him.

Your avoidance didn’t stop him from looking at you, though. You felt the weight of his gaze as you moved as quickly as possible to grab your things, practically scurrying away as you refused to meet his eye.

“Bedroom’s yours tonight. I already grabbed my stuff,” he said after you, keeping his eyes on his tablet, willing himself to not turn around to watch you go.

You paused in your retreat only momentarily, debating on whether or not to offer a thank you before you thought better of it and made your way to the room to dress.

Half an hour later you were in your pajamas and if it wasn’t for your stomach growling or the throbbing in your face, you would have happily crashed out.

Instead you got up and walked to the kitchen.

You found Bucky already at the cabinet, eyeing its contents, so you walked to the rickety old fridge instead. You grabbed a cold water and took a drink before holding the bottle to your cheek. The cold felt nice against the soreness. You closed your eyes as you let your head rest against the door of the fridge. You could have fallen asleep right then and there.

Bucky watched you intently from across the way. He knew it’d be better to not say anything, to keep to himself and avoid any more needless interactions with you.

It’d certainly be easier, or so he told himself.

Though when he saw the twitch of your cheek and yet another wince take over your face, he couldn’t stop himself. You obviously needed an ice pack and some pain pills and if you weren’t gonna get it for yourself, well, someone had to.

He left the room to get some things and came back to be met with you looking through cans of food where he had just been standing. He walked over to you, he could tell you felt him behind you but you kept your eyes forward, pretending to be enraptured by the selection of canned food before you.

He reached out his hand, touching your arm as you stilled at the contact. Bucky gently turned you to face him and was surprised when you let him without more than just a questioning brow. He took your hand then and dropped the pills into your palm.

“Sit,” he instructed.

You looked at him a moment before slowly walking to the small table and taking a seat. You eyed the pills he’d handed you and offered a small “thanks” before you swallowed them down with a drink of your water.

His attention was unexpected, but…nice. You weren’t sure you liked it, though. It wasn’t necessary.

The cracking of an ice pack had you turning to face him once again as he presented it to you.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” you said as you denied the pack.

“Your face says otherwise,” he argued as he urged the ice pack to you again.

“Look, if I wanted one, I would’ve grabbed one, okay? Thanks,” you said, bordering on brutish.

He moved toward you with a roll of his eyes, attempting to touch the pack to your cheek. “Stop acting stupid-,” he started before you quickly cut him off.

“Stop acting like you care,” you said harshly, standing from your seat and taking a step back from him, the scraping of the chair along the floor in your rushed movements loud and disruptive. You took a breath, gathering your bearings as you stood there, eyes trained on the floor. “I just, I don’t want the ice pack, okay?” you spoke quietly, sounding almost defeated. You didn’t want to get into this right now, and you especially didn’t want to get into this with him.

You felt guilty.

You deserved that punch.

You deserved this pain and discomfort.

In fact, it was the least you deserved.

You didn’t register him approaching again until he was nearly right in front of you.

Bucky himself wasn’t even sure why he had gotten closer, it wasn’t even a thought as he took the steps toward you, just something he needed to do.

You were stood across from each other, close but not close enough. A feeling that made you want to hide yourself away from him, knowing that though he probably felt much the same, he wouldn’t do or say a thing about it. You had just been about to turn and head straight for the bedroom until his words broke the discomfort.

“I know it hurts,” he spoke softly after the moment of mounting tension.

“Yeah, well,” you shrugged, trying to find the right thing to say, not wanting to make your masochistic choice obvious to him, “I’ll live.”

His eyes were burning into you as he watched you. You only met his gaze for a second before you let your eyes flit away, scared of what he’d be able to see.

“Just sit down,” he said, finally looking away. The annoyance in his voice was clear as he spoke.

You watched him go back to the cabinet and grab two cans of something. Your stomach was in a flurry for more than one reason.

“Mission reports are almost done,” he informed you as he emptied the contents of the cans into the pot on the stove.

“Oh,” you breathed, having almost forgotten about them yourself, “good.”

“So the event was just a cover for Sergey’s funeral?” Bucky asked, apparently needing clarification on the details.

“Yeah. Like we knew, they weren’t at all prepared for a change in leadership. They’re still weak, vulnerable. They didn’t want anyone outside the organization knowing he’d passed until they had a new boss,”

“Which should have been Ar-”

“Yup,” you answered, cutting him off before he could get Artem’s name out completely.

He turned, eyeing you at your abrasiveness. You felt him watch for you a second before he turned back to the stove as you fiddled with your hands at the table.

“You think he really left?” he asked, an edge to his voice he couldn’t hide if he’d wanted to.

You took a moment before you answered, “I hope so. But I don’t know.”

You heard him chortle under his breath at your answer, making you cock your head at his response.

“Seems like there’s a lot you don’t know when it comes to him, huh,” his meaning provoking you into a quick response.

“Mission’s over. And even if it wasn’t, it’d still be none of your fucking business,” you said, wanting to end all talk of Artem.

Bucky scoffed with a shake of his head but let it go.

He walked over with two bowls, putting one down in front of you before he surprised you and took a seat at the table.

You were sure he’d leave you to your own devices once the food was done.

You bit your tongue as you measured your breaths and played with your food as the steam rose from the bowl.

“I’m sorry,” you began, almost a whisper as you spoke, “I-”

“It’s fine,” Bucky cut you off, not offering anything more as he ate his food.

You looked at him before you looked back to your bowl, taking a bite of your own.

The silence between you grew as you sat, eating quietly until you spoke up again.

“Do you know what time we’re cleared to take off tomorrow?”

“Haven’t been cleared yet. Stark said to check in the morning, but we probably won’t be able to leave until sundown.”

Your eyes rounded at the new information. Another day here? You weren’t sure you could take it.

“When did he say that?”

“An hour or so ago.”

“And you’re just telling me now?”

“You’re just now asking,”

“Doesn’t seem like something I should have to ask for an update on,” you argued.

Bucky’s spoon clattered against his bowl as he picked his head up to look at you, exasperated.

There was a palpable silence as you looked at one another.

“So we’re here for at least another full day.

Alone..

You still don’t wanna talk about this?” you broached. Bucky sniffed before clicking his tongue, avoiding your eye now.

“Nothing to talk about,” he responded as he stood from his seat, taking his bowl to the sink and leaving without another word.

A sardonic titter left your lips unbidden.

You sat there, feeling like an idiot once again for even daring to bring it up.

That familiar sinking in your gut was back and you felt sick. And stupid. Pathetic.

Fuck, and now that throbbing in your face was back, accompanied by a throbbing in your head. If you assessed all of your feelings any deeper, you’d be able to identify the stinging in your heart, too.

You stood up and left your bowl where it was, you could clean it in the morning - god knows you’d have the time.

You went to the bathroom to brush your teeth quickly before you planned on crawling into bed and staying there until you were cleared to head home tomorrow.

You rubbed at your eyes threatening to water and refused to cry because of him again.

You were in and out in five minutes. As you opened the bathroom door, you were met with Bucky leaning against the wall, his bag in hand as he waited for his turn.

You staggered a step as his presence caught you off guard. You stared at him a second, sure your eyes were wide and glossy. You wanted to say something, but you weren’t sure what the right words were. He stared back before he eyed the empty bathroom behind you, clearing his throat as he stood up straight.

You stepped out of his way as he moved past you to walk in and then you just stood there a moment as you tried to think of what you wanted to say.

The sound of the door closing behind him broke you out of your stupor as you blinked and you slowly walked to the bedroom.

You sat on the bed, mind still trying to formulate how you wanted to approach him and what exactly you felt you needed to say.

Minutes passed. You heard the rushing of water through the old pipes - on and then off again after some time.

You still weren’t sure what to say. But you needed to say something.

You got up and softly walked back over to the bathroom, building some kind of nerve as you got closer and closer to the door until it suddenly opened and froze you in your path.

Your eyes met a shirtless Bucky with his sweats sitting quite low on his hips.

He raised a brow at you, “Have you just been standing out here the whole time?” he questioned.

You swallowed the lump in your throat before you shook your head and stood up straighter.

Your mouth opened and closed before you took a deep breath and met his eye once again. You couldn’t pretend you didn’t see the look of stress on his face as he watched you, a flurry of what you thought might be impatience was growing as he waited for you to finally speak.

You didn’t have the words right in your mind, so when you spoke, you really just blurted out the only thing you had straight.

“We’re soulmates.”

It was a fact that you were stating. You watched him as you took a breath before continuing on, still not exactly sure what you were saying, but you trusted you’d catch up to your mouth eventually.

“We are soulmates. I know you know that. And I- I know you don’t care,” you took a breath before you swallowed hard, “but I..just, uh, I needed to say it. Out loud. To hear it. Because honestly,” you tittered, “it was kind of starting to make me feel a bit crazy, the way we just keep.. Burying it. Pretending it’s not real.. or true, or…” you shook your head, clearing your nerves and thinking, feeling more clearly now as you gazed into the blue tempests Bucky’s eyes held. Not so much anger, but a storm was raging nonetheless. That didn’t stop you, though. If anything it helped you realize what it was you truly needed to say to him right now. “It’s not just gonna go away, you know. And I get it, you’ve made it clear that you don’t want this, you don’t want me, so, whatever.. But I just - I needed to say it and acknowledge it. And you can go back to ignoring my existence after this but can you just.. Please, can you just acknowledge it?”

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, just staring at each other, but it couldn’t have been more than a second or two. He looked almost pained as he watched you, conflicted.

You waited with baited breath for him to say something, anything.

You weren’t sure why you did it, but you took a small step toward him - some unconscious need to be closer you didn’t even truly recognize until he took a step closer to you. And then another step, and another until you were backed up against the wall of the hallway as he stood before you. You noted your change of breathing as you watched his chest moving up and down, nearly in sync with yours.

Slowly, you lifted your eyes to his. You were entirely unsure of what was happening, but at the same time, you knew exactly what you were feeling. And you were sure he felt it, too.

Your eyes fell to his lips as he somehow got even closer to you, your bodies pressed against one another now. His right hand came up to your face, gently holding your cheek as he stared down at you, his lips parting as he leaned down slowly before he tilted your face up just a touch, allowing his lips to brush along yours, feather light, but electric as your skin prickled and you let your eyelids flutter shut.

His hold on your face tightened just a bit and you winced at the pressure on your bruise.

“Sorry,” he breathed as he lightened his touch, his forehead pressing to yours. You shook your head and raised your hands to hold his face in turn, not wanting him to back away. Not wanting this to end.

You were unclear on how exactly you got here, but it felt right. It felt good.

You pulled him to you and pressed your lips to his, kissing him softly, smiling at the minty taste of him as he pressed his tongue to your lips. You obliged him, parting your lips and allowing him access to your mouth as he took his time savoring you, his body pressing closer still as you were flush to the wall behind you.

His left hand fell to your waist before he gripped your hip and brought you closer to him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you deepened the kiss, so caught up in the dizzying feeling of his lips on yours, you almost didn’t register the moment he lifted you off your feet, his large hands under your thick thighs, bringing your legs around his waist as he proceeded to walk with you down the hall and into the open bedroom.

There wasn’t much thinking anymore, both of you moving out of pure instinct, running on your desire and longing for one another.

Bucky laid you gently on the bed after breaking the kiss and allowing you to get in a much needed breath.

He pulled his sweats down and rid himself of his underwear while your heated stare stayed on him.

When he met your eyes again, you were amazed at how darkened his gaze was. Unadulterated lust swirling in the torrent blues of his stare, your throat went dry at the sight of him.

He got onto the bed, his movements measured as he crawled on top of you, no words exchanged as you laid further down on the mattress the closer he got. Only the sounds of your breathing and the soft squeaking of the bed could be heard in the quiet of the cabin.

As Bucky’s face was mere inches away from yours, you startled at the feeling of him pulling your shorts down, your hands flying to stop him.

“Wait,” you rushed out as his eyes flicked to yours, his brows furrowed in concern at your sudden change in demeanor. “I just, uhm,” you took a breath, “it’s - it’s been.. A while,” you spoke softly, trying not to let the embarrassment you were feeling slip through your words - though you knew you’d failed as Bucky’s gaze softened, relief flashing over his features as he let his forehead drop to yours. He took your lips in his again as he kissed you gently.

“We’ll go slow,” he assured you as you melted under him. “I’ll take care of you,” he breathed the promise on your lips.

You nodded and let his hands go. Your eyes fell shut as his touch lingered from your hips down your thighs as he pulled your shorts off. You lifted your hips to help him before you sat up a bit, considering yourself a moment before deciding to remove your tank top. Then slowly undoing your bra.

You relaxed back down, now completely bare to each other and were caught off guard by Bucky lowering his head to your tummy, crawling down your body, his lips lingering from down your waist, along your stomach and then on your hip as you sighed, reveling in his affection. He worked his way closer and closer to your sex as you watched him intently until a shuddered gasp left you when his lips brushed over your sensitive clit.

You reached for a pillow to push under you - the urge to lax into the bed not stronger than your desire to watch Bucky as he explored you with his tongue.

You were captivated by his attention, you couldn’t tear your eyes away. The sight of his head between your legs, his strong hold on your thighs tightening with every twitch you gave as his tongue delved between your folds, drinking you in.

Your breathing was ragged as Bucky worked you over torturously slow now, taking his time before he slowly eased one thick finger into your wet and waiting hole - pumping the digit in and out of you as his tongue flicked over your clit incessantly. When he inserted another finger, you let out a sharp moan at the unexpected stretch as he worked you open for him.

The moment his icy blue eyes flicked up to meet your heady gaze, you nearly whimpered at the intensity - not of just his stare, but of everything he was putting you through, everything he was making you feel.

Despite how quick of a turn the night had taken, none of it felt rushed. Bucky really was taking his time with you, noticing every twitch of your thigh under his touch, each time your velvety walls tightened around his fingers, every moan and cry that fell from your perfect lips like an angel’s song to him.

He didn’t ever want to stop hearing those noises. And when he saw the look of pure blissed out pleasure on your face as you watched him take you apart, in that moment he wanted nothing more than to make sure you were always this taken care of.

He’d give you anything you asked for so long as it’d keep you this happy.

This is what you deserved. Pleasure and happiness and complete devotion - and he wanted to be the one to give it to you.

This is what he wanted.

You.

Bucky’s metal hand tightened around your thigh, desperate to feel as much of you as he could while he lost himself in the little heaven he’d found between your legs, your full attention on him and him alone.

Your back arched off the bed as you chased his touch, wanting more, wanting him closer. Breathy mewls leaving you as the salacious sounds of Bucky’s fingers pumping in and out of you meshed with the wet sounds of his mouth on your sex.

A tentative hand reached for his hair, your fingers threading through the damp strands before you tightened your hold a bit, gripping his hair as you urged him on.

You weren’t expecting the deep growl that emanated from him, sending chills through you - the vibrations along your cunt coaxing a whimpered moan from your throat as your eyes screwed shut. You tugged at his hair again before raking your nails along his scalp lightly, stroking his hair as he removed his fingers from you and readjusted his hold on either thigh, pulling you closer to him, delving ever deeper with his skilled tongue before moving to fuck you gently again with his hand. You were close, so fucking close.

Bucky’s tongue was firm against your clit, massaging it as he moved his fingers inside you rhythmically. Another pathetic mewl fell from you as you took a strangled breath, you couldn’t hold it back any longer, not that he wanted you to. Your toes curled as your legs shook from the orgasm that overtook you as you held Bucky closer, his name falling like a prayer from your lips as he refused to let up, your walls clenching down on his fingers as he worked you through the intensity of your climax.

Your thighs threatened to close around his head, but his strong arms kept you open to him as he lapped up everything you had to offer him before he slowly pulled himself off of you.

Your breathing was still quickened as you tried to come down from the high he’d given you, half lidded eyes looking on as he licked his wet, plump lips, his chin glistening with your juices as his large hands smoothed up your plush thighs. The corners of his lips upturned in a smile as he noted the way your body reacted to his touch, and then saw the look of satisfaction mingled with anticipation for more on your pretty face as you watched him.

His head fell to your chest as he crawled up your body, trailing kisses along your skin, up the column of your neck and across your cheek, gently, before he pressed his lips to yours. You moaned at the taste of yourself still on his tongue as you wound your fingers in his hair and pulled him down on top of you fully.

You could feel the length of him against you, hot and hard.

Bucky looked at you a moment, his lips soft and parted as he breathed a little harder, his eyes heavy as he gently took your face in his hands, his thumbs tracing over your skin before he leaned in and kissed you - deeper than he’d kissed you before, less restraint as your teeth clicked against one another’s, your tongue swirling around his before he pulled away.

His forehead pressed against yours as he took a breath, “You okay?” he asked softly as he let his hands fall and trail down your body.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “yes, yeah, I-,” you shook your head lightly, “you’re…amazing.”

Bucky breathed a laugh, smiling as he nodded before placing a kiss on your lips, “Good.”

His head was nuzzled in your neck where he left kiss after kiss along your skin while you wrapped your legs around him, your fingers playing in his hair as you sighed at the slight respite.

“Bucky,” you moaned breathily.

Your pussy ached as you felt his cock twitch against you at the sound of his name falling from your lips.

He kissed down your neck and along your chest as his hands fondled your breasts, your nipples hardening under his touch. He took one into his mouth as he sucked on you, the stirring in your cunt growing tenfold under his attention, his hand squeezing your breast before he did the same to the other.

Bucky buried his face between your tits, his hands full as he kneaded them, lightly nipping and sucking, leaving kisses all over your chest as you whined and moaned beneath him, your fingers gripping his hair and emboldening him as you both got lost in the heat of your desire. He wanted to touch you, to feel every inch of your perfect body, to kiss every bit of you he possibly could. But he was getting too ahead of himself. Slow. He needed to go slow.

He pulled away from you, holding himself above you as he panted. “Fuck,” he breathed on an exhale as he gazed down at you. You just looked at one another for a moment, nothing to be said, but so much being told.

“You’re beautiful,” he praised softly, the sincerity in his voice causing your heart to ache as you carded your fingers through his hair.

“I need you,” you nearly whispered as you held his eye, his understanding evident.

His gaze wasn’t so icy now - in fact, it was warm as he caressed you, his touch cool on your heated skin.

Bucky reached between you, gripping his cock as he lined himself up to your slick entrance. He was looking into your eyes as he guided himself into you. Your lips parted on an “o” as he stretched you out. He was a lot to take, but having been prepped, your pussy wet and wanting, the burn soon fading into something more pleasurable as he pushed further into you with a groan.

You lost yourself in his heavy gaze, his eyes were dark with need, but you could see the tenderness in the way he looked at you, too. You could feel it in his touch and you were like puddy in his hands.

When he was fully seated inside you, your warm walls tight around his thick shaft, Bucky began rocking into you at a slow and sensual pace, his heavy breaths and moans in your ear as he fucked you - deep strokes, making sure you felt every inch of him.

Your eyes shut as you took a stuttered breath - the feeling of him inside you overwhelming. You felt his lips press against your temple as he rubbed your hip soothingly.

Everything felt so surreal. You’d never imagined Bucky’d be so soft, so gentle. All of his focus was on you and you’d never be able to describe how perfect it felt being seen by him, being loved by him.

In your wildest dreams, you could have never imagined a soulmate connection to be this deep, this strong. You weren’t sure how you handled it before, either of you. Because this, this is impossible to deny. You moved perfectly together, you fit perfectly together. You just made sense.

Everything made sense now.

You hands were on Bucky’s back, urging him closer as he picked up his pace a bit, the sweet noises emanating from him only turning you on more as your pussy clenched around him - a moan of his name met with a pained groan in turn.

You hiked your leg around his waist as he leaned further into you, his weight on you making you feel warm - safe and comforted beneath his strong body as you gave yourself to him and he gave his all to you.

His grip on your thigh as he held you open for him only added to your delight.

As Bucky leaned over you, you pulled him down and crashed your lips into his. When he pulled away, he didn’t go far, his lips just barely apart from yours as you breathed in each other’s air. Your eyes were locked on his as he sent the bed frame thumping against the wall with his every thrust, the sound of his hips slapping against yours filling the air as you held onto one another.

He kissed you again and you felt yourself edging closer and closer to your next climax, that coil in your lower belly tightening as Bucky’s cock was hitting just the right spots, over and over again making you whimper as you began to plead with him.

“Right there, Bucky,” you praised as your eyes screwed shut. “Oh, fuck,” the curse was a mere whisper under your breath.

“Does it feel good, sweetheart?” his voice husky through his tight throat.

“Yes,” you eked out, “yes, feels so good. You feel so good,” you cried. “I’m so close, Bucky, I’m gonna come, please, please,” you started to beg as the feeling of him began to be too much for you to handle. You felt like you were on the verge of combustion.

“I know, baby, I know,” he hushed you before his lips collided with yours, your cries muffled against his lips as he brought his hand to your clit, swirling tight circles over your bud, leading you to shatter beneath him in mere seconds.

Bucky’s forehead pressed to yours as you felt a stray tear slip from your eye, the orgasm intense and seemingly never ending as he worked you through it.

“Doin’ so good, doll. Feel fuckin’ perfect around me, baby. You’re so goddamn perfect,” his voice strained as he cooed at you. “And you’re mine. Aren’t you?” he prompted.

You nodded your head at him desperately, “‘M yours, Bucky. I’m yours,” you insisted, your voice straining but earnest.

He was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, soft reassurances spilling from his lips as he continued fucking you.

Soon he was a mess of grunts and moans he couldn’t hold back any longer as your walls gripped his cock tightly. “Fuck,” he choked out.

You watched as his face screwed up in pleasure as he let out a cry of his own, his orgasm ripping through him while he emptied himself inside of you, his hold on you tight as ever as he thrust into you once, twice more - holding himself against you for a moment before carefully pulling out.

Your leg slipped down as he gently let you go, his breathing harder than your own as he started to come down.

He rolled off of you as he caught his breath before he turned his head to look at you. You were already staring over at him longingly when he met your eye. You shared a delicate, almost shy smile before he pulled you into him easily, his arms wrapping around you as you nuzzled into him.

Feeling his spend between your thighs, you realized you should probably clean up before you fell asleep, pulling away from him as he looked at you questioningly.

“Bathroom,” you said softly with a kiss to his cheek as you got up.

It occurred to you as you cleaned yourself off that you and Bucky still needed to talk about everything. You honestly felt on top of the world right now, you couldn’t remember a time when you’d felt so content, so complete. And that was all Bucky. In this moment, you felt truly happy. You smiled softly at yourself in the mirror, lifting a hand to touch your cheek where you still felt Bucky’s touch.

The conversation may be a little heavy, you knew that, but you’d both be better for it. As you reentered the bedroom, though, you found Bucky already under the covers, soft snores escaping him as he slept. You scoffed lightly at the sight of him, shaking your head as you approached the bed to crawl in on the other side.

You couldn’t really blame him for passing out so quickly, you were exhausted, too.

Your talk could wait until tomorrow, you conceded. As good as things felt right now, you knew you’d feel even better once you had everything hashed out with Bucky, and you were both finally on the same page with the same understanding.

As you settled in the bed, Bucky’s metal arm reached out for you, pulling you back into him as you laughed softly at his sleepy need for you. You cuddled into him under the blankets. Peacefulness was never a feeling you experienced often, always so fleeting to you, but right here as you laid in Bucky’s arms, it was the perfect word to describe how you felt.

This was good. No, this was perfect. How could you ever want for more when you had all of this love, when you felt this whole - this happy.

You let yourself relax into Bucky as your eyes fluttered shut.

No way it could get better than this.

#keeping secrets series #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky x plus size!reader #bucky x avenger!reader #bucky barnes smut #soft dark bucky barnes x reader #soft!dark bucky #dark!soulmate au #mean!bucky #curvy!reader #bucky x curvy!reader #soft!dark bucky barnes x reader #soft!dark bucky barnes

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rebelwrites · 2 years

Text

Home Race And Heartbreak

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: You and Charles kept your relationship a secret but you needed Charles after you crashed into the barrier and he didn’t care who saw.

Warnings: mentions of a crash (no description) French translated from google so don’t bite me if it’s wrong 😂

A/N: First time writing for Charles Leclerc and first time since I was 12 that I’ve written for someone that isn’t a fictional character so please be nice 🥺 Feedback is appreciated 🖤

Any excitement you had for your home race had been snuffed out. The corners of your lips tugged into a smile as Charles flew across the line qualifying in P1 for the British GP, but the smile was fake and didn't reach your eyes, it was all for the camera.

You hid your emotions well, wanting to be happy for your team mate and boyfriend. Not that anyone knew you and Leclerc were dating, it was something you both wanted to keep private, away from the cameras. But it was hard on days like this when you desperately craved the comfort of his arms.

“Great race, Charles. P1”

You purposely tuned out the hustle and bustle of the pits, letting out a loud heavy sigh as you pushed yourself off the stool, swiping your smokes off the counter as you moved. You needed a moment alone before the embarrassment continued with talks with the press.

The rumble of Charles’ F1-75 ran through your body as you leant against the wall of the pits, a lit cigarette hanging from between your lips. Watching as everyone buzzed around him as he climbed out of the car. To the world his smile was bright but you knew better, it didn’t quite reach his eyes and he hid the sadness well.

He knew how much this race meant to you with it being in your home country, so he knew that you would be distraught about the DNF, placing at the back of the grid for tomorrow's race.

You should have been up in P2 with him, you were one track for a good time but fate had other decisions for you. Squeezing your eyes closed, your brain flashed up with images of the crash. The feeling of slamming into the wall would be something you wouldn’t forget in a hurry, nor would the painful screams from your boyfriend after you heard the panic in his voice when listening back to the team radio.

Part of you was happy for your boyfriend getting pole position but it still didn’t numb the heartbreak you were feeling.

Tears threatened to spill over your lash line, you were trying your hardest not to break down trackside the last thing you wanted was to be caught on camera.

The moment you locked eyes with your Monégasque racer, a single tear rolled down your cheek as you flashed him a weak smile.

Nothing else mattered to Charles right now, he didn’t want to be making small talk with the pit crew, all he wanted to do was pull you into his arms.

Without thinking he jumped off his car, pushing through the crowd to get to his girl. Luckily the pair of you had plenty of experience with hugging after races making it look just like team mates.

Breaking eye contact with him you tossed the cigarette into the sand bucket, keeping your gaze trained on the floor. The feeling of Charles’ knuckles brushing against your cheek wiping away a stay tear made your resolve crumble.

“Mon amour, you scared me back there,” He hummed, not caring that the whole world was probably watching. “My heart practically stopped when I found out it was you that went into the wall. Are you sure you are okay?”

“Yeah,” you sighed heavily, “no broken bones, just a bruised ego.”

“Are you going to be okay with the interviews?” Concern shining in his eyes.

“Gotta be done, ain’t it. Can’t avoid it.” You sighed, fiddling with your race suit. “Just wanna go home now.”

Charles knew what you meant by home, it wasn’t the small flat you had in England but it was his home in Monaco.

He knew this would have majorly knocked your confidence and he hated that the sparkle from your eyes had disappeared.

The interviews were long and gruelling, everyone kept asking the same question.

“What went wrong out there?”

So by the time the question was asked the final time of the session you snapped.

“Bottled it didn’t I,” your mood had been drained to the point of not caring whether you snapped or not. “Binned it into the corner, rookie fucking move. I made a call and you know what it was the wrong fucking wrong.” Your British accent was thick as you spewed the words out, watching as the reporter took a step back, shocked at your outburst.

“Okay, I think Y/N/L has answered enough questions today.” Charles breathed, swooping in like a hero.

Silently you shot him a thankful look.

Without thinking he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pressing a tender kiss to your temple.

“Allons manger et regarder des films de Disney.” He hummed against your skin, quickly glancing over his shoulder realising what he had done. The room was silent and all eyes were on the two of you.

A few of the other drivers were slyly smirking, they all knew something was going on between the two of you but this just confirmed it. Charles knew you would be all over the news, the budding romance between the two Ferrari drivers but he didn’t care, his girl needed him right now.

“Say that again Leclerc.” You said softly.

Charles smirked at the slight giggle in your voice. “I said, let’s go get some food and watch Disney films.

Shaking his head he quickly pressed another kiss to your forehead. “We really need to work on your French.”

“Bite me.” You hummed, leaning into his warmth.

“C'est une invitation, princesse? Is that an invite, Princess?” He smirked, eyes glistening in a playful manner. Your confused expression made him chuckle as you exited the room heading towards the Ferrari motor home.

#charles leclerc #Charles Leclerc x reader #Charles Leclerc imagine #Charles Leclerc x you #f1 #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one x reader #formula one imagine

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takeomisbitch · 1 year

Note

Hi, hope your day has been going well. I was wondering if I can request a head cannon for Eren, Jean, Connie, and Armin and how they are when they are drunk.🫶🏽

A/N: My days been going well. Hope all of yall lovely people are doing ok🖤

What Eren | Jean | Connie | Armin are like drunk

Word count: 1469

Prompt 2

Warnings: Fluff and tiny bit of NSFW on Connie's part, mention of alcohol obviously, Connie trying to get in your pants, Armin being a lightweight, Connie is crossfaded, pet names (Babe, baby,(Eren) sweetheart, pretty, sexy, (Jean) Love, beautiful,(Armin) stink, pookie, stinka butt(Connie) I cackled when making this

Head Cannon prompt list | Attack On Titan Masterlist

Eren

When Eren wants to get drunk it's gonna take more than just a few shots

Eren is not a lightweight it takes Eren maybe 2 bottles of straight Hennessy or vodka

And knowing how much your lovely bf loves to party you tend to be the designated driver most times

But what you love the most is when Eren gets so drunk that he gets so clingy

Just picture this

You and Eren are in the car on the way home from one of Connie's many college parties. And Eren's little ass decides it would be a good night to get fucked up. So as of right now Eren's hand is on your thigh as you drive home, “Baby, please let me lay on your lap they're like my pillows” Eren whines and slurs as he keeps trying to put his head down and over the console. “Eren no, I’m driving and I’m not bout to crash this damn car because you wanna lay on my lap. So sit back and cut it out.” Eren then reaches for your hand to hold, “Eren you can’t just take my hand when I’m driving. Just 10 more minutes then we're gonna be home.”

Sure you had to drive for 10 more minutes with a whiny, drunk, and clingy Eren but you did it, you made it in one piece. Getting out of the car and helping Eren get out, “Babyyyy, give me your attention now” this 6-foot man leans his entire body on your back “You can wait until we get in the house…. Eren imma need you to get off of me.” Earning a groan from your drunk boyfriend as he stands up straight, unlocking the door, and taking your shoes off heading towards the kitchen to get him a glass of water. Eren follows close behind, complaining that you're not giving him the attention he deserves. “Eren if you drink this I’ll give you attention, ok?” He grabs the drink from your hand chugging it down “Slow down Eren” giggling as water runs down his neck getting his shirt wet.

Eren finishes his water, putting the cup in the sink, “Ok let's go.” He drags you to your shared room taking his clothes off and he lays in bed waiting for you. Getting yourself ready for bed, You lay down in your spot opening your arms for Eren. Eren cuddles into your neck “I love you Y/N” he mumbles before dozing off, “I love you too ‘Ren”

Jean

Jean is a flirty drunk

Throughout the whole night of him drinking and getting drunk, all he did was flirt with you

One time when he got so drunk and didn't know who you were he was flirting with you

He throws pickup lines at you more compliments at you and when you say you have a BF he just doesn’t care (even tho he’s the bf)

The time he did forget you were his partner, then you tell him to bring him home he got as red as a baboon’s ass

“Hi, sweetheart. You here by yourself?” Jean asks you, completely forgetting he came to this dumb party with you, and you wanting to have a little bit of fun, you're gonna feed into this bullshit. “No. I’m here with my boyfriend.” giving him a wink as you sip on your drink in the corner of the room. “Well that sure sucks doesn't it but I was thinkin’ you bring your sexy ass home with me and I can show you how a man can really treat his partner instead of leaving them in the corner of the room.” Oh, what a dumb bf you got yourself.

You've been talking to Jean for 10 minutes listening to him throw his really bad pickup lines, “So aside from being sexy what else do you do for living, sweetheart?” Giving him a chuckle in response “Jean, I think it's time we go home now” “Oh, you want to bring me home pretty thing? I didn’t even get your name” He straightens his back tilting his head at you waiting for you to reply, “My name is Y/N and I’m your partner lets go” que Jean getting red as a baboon’s ass cheeks. “YOU'RE MY PARTNER” kissing him on the cheek you drag his tall ass out of the party.

Connie

Lord, we gonna need to put this one on a leash

Connie gets insanely horny when he is drunk but not just drunk he is also high so this dumb boy is cross faded

Like Connie calls you dumb nicknames and gets really handsy

When you guys leave the party all he tries to do is get in your pants

He’s a horny bitch but once you get home and he hits the bed he’s sleep

It’s been exactly 5 minutes since you got Connie to put down the drink and walk with you to the car, “Soo stink, we gonna fuck in the car?” turning around to face this dumb boy, “No, we are going home.” He gives you a hum and a wink like there is some kinda dirty meaning behind going home. Opening the door for him and pushing him inside, Connie brings his hand down to slap you on the ass, “Damn Stink, you see that recoil. Just imagine what it would like when I hit it from behind” he gives you a smirk as he puts the rest of his body in the car. Oh, it's gonna be a long drive you thought as you walk over to the driver's side.

Once you’re in the car Connie puts his hand on your thigh too close to your pus pus, “What you say stinka butt wanna get it on in the back?” bringing your pointer finger and thumb across your eyes then resting them on the bridge of your nose, “Con, imma need you to calm down.”

After about 20 slow minutes you finally reach home. Getting out of the car and helping Connie get out as well, Connie’s hand moves its way down your back and into your back pocket. Turning your head to look at him as you walk up to your apartment, “just wanna feel it pookie, it’s fat and squishy” shaking your head you unlock the door to your shared home. “Connie imma need you to go to our room and wait.” Connie takes his hand out of your pocket, bringing both his hands to lay on your waist, “Let me get a kiss first” he puckers up his lips waiting for a kiss. Rolling your eyes you lean in for a quick peck, just as you're about to pull away Connie grabs the back of your head deepening the kiss god you might be shocked but you couldn’t just turn away cause he feels so good.

“Ok, Con. Connie that’s it” mumbling between kisses you pull back much to Connie’s denies, “Connie go lie down in bed please just wait for me I’ll be right there” you kiss his cheek before stepping into the kitchen. Connie listens to you walking into the bedroom getting butt ass naked and waiting in bed for you, but just as you're walking back to the room with a glass of water and two pills of Advil. You see Connie in bed looking like a dead body. Letting out a little chuckle you give him one last kiss on his forehead before getting ready for bed yourself.

Armin

IMO I think our boy Armin here is a shy and kinda crybaby drunk

Like Armin is the type to confess for you so many times

I also just know that he is a lightweight like he can not handle more than 7 shots

But you love when he’s drunk because he always tells you he loves you

He is also another clingy drunk like Eren

You just brought Armin to a little party so he can wind down from all the stress from school and as you notice he got drunker and drunker he became more and more clingy. It started off with a hand on your thigh then a hand on your waist then before you knew it his whole upper half was leaning on your side his head in the crook of your neck as he whisper sweet words into your ear “my love you are the love of my life I can’t live without you” he mumbles and slurs his whole sentence into your ear. Rubbing his head you decide it’s time to go home.

Now you and Armin have been home for 10 minutes and he won’t shut up about how he loves you. “God you are so beautiful I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, I love you so damn much” he gives you little neck kisses in between each word

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smooth-perceval · 11 months

Text

“Stealing hearts aside.”

Carlos Sainz X Fem!Reader.

[Part Two]

Summary: Reader is attending a GP for a “date” but her “date” leaves her wandering around the pit lane alone. Until she bumps into a very cheeky driver.

Warnings: Swearing, some cheeky pick up lines, pure fluff, Google translate, no proof read.

++ Warning: Mention of Zhou Guanyu crash.

Key: Y/N (Your Name), Kai (your dates name), Y/J/C (your job choice), we’re at silverstone GP.

Word count: 2,474

A/N: First post on this account, hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it! I got some inspiration from watching “The Break-up” and how they both first met. Soooo enjoy 🖤

I had no clue why I was here- to be honest… I mean Kai said it’ll be a nice outing, but watching cars go round and round, and barely getting a conversation in edge ways doesn’t sound like a nice outing to me.

I don’t even know this guys full name.

The conversation was barely to none… he has just been flashing money all day expecting me to swoon. When I’m far from swooning. If anything I’m ready to go home, I was annoyed- I had travelled quite a distance to get here just for the guy to be a complete douche.

We was both walking down the pits in our own worlds, me looking towards the garages, him doing god knows what. I noticed a few names that you hear around, Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, George Russel. They’re just names you hear around England seeing as they was our drivers.

Letting out a deep sigh, I tried the effort again… “So who is this garage here?” Pointing at the bright red garage I glanced up at the names,

Carlos Sainz,

Charles Leclerc.

“Kai?” Turning around, he was gone. I turned doing a full spin looking around, it’s one thing to be a dick. But to leave me alone in an unknown area was another thing. This entire date was a right off, I was 100% ready to go home. And that’s what I looked for the nearest exit.

Then it all got too much… I felt my chest heave and my body slowly started warming up, I knew the tears were on the way… what was so wrong with me that I couldn’t even have my date stick around? Shaking my head I bit my lip gently, I couldn’t cry here, not in public.

Right I need a distraction, before I ball my eyes out… I looked back up at the signs reading their names again, I know that logo- and the red is quite obvious… so I’m next to a Ferrari garage.

These wouldn’t be such bad photos here, humming a tune, starting to try and forget about the failed date. I pulled my phone out taking a snap of the car, smiling to myself I looked at the photo, maybe I can stay for a few more minutes… a few more pictures.

“You want a picture of me, no?” Turning at the voice, I tilted my head back shielding my eyes looking at the person.

“Oh hi- did you want me to take a photo of you?” Confused i held my phone up.

“No, I thought you wanted a picture-” looking back at me just as confused, I shook my head slowly. “No… we can take one if you want?” I got the camera app up on my phone and smiled at the guy.

“You don’t know who I am?” I shook my head again, staring up at him.

“Am I supposed to?” I glanced at the person next to him and they just shook their head smiling a little.

“Carlos, we have got to get going-”

“Carlos?” Repeating his name I turned back towards the garage then back at him.

“Oh… this is your garage?”

“Sí!” He gestured to the garage, I smiled and laughed a little. Now stepping back and getting a good look at him… he was like a dream. Like he had just walked out of a movie, some kind of Prince Charming.

“Finalmente, llegamos allí al final.” (Finally, we got there in the end.) He turned to the person next to them laughing a little. Back to being confused again I tilted my head at them both.

“Sorry… I don’t speak that language.” Pausing I looked back at the guy. “Or any other language…” smiling at me he held his hand out. “I am Spanish.”

“Oh, how lovely!” Smiling back at him I handed him my phone, as he held it up for a photo, both smiling into the camera, I felt Carlos hand move to the middle of my back as he snapped the photo.

“Carlos we have got to go… there’s people crowding around and there’s not a lot of security.”

Carlos arm was still placed there as we both looked around at the crowds of people slowly forming. “I say you better get going Mr.Sainz.” Smiling up at him I go to get my phone, him moving it back slightly. “Ah ah, what’s your name?”

Laughing a little I reached over more grabbing my phone. “Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N”

“Does Y/N have someone I should be watching out for?”

Pausing for a moment my mind flickering back to earlier I shook my head. “Nobody I can think of-” his smile grew slightly.

“Will Y/N give me her number?” Shocked I stepped back, Carlos hand now falling to his side.

“Why do you want my number?” Furrowing my eyes brows at him I put my phone into my purse.

“So when I want to call you I know the number to dial?” He laughed a little looking back to the person.

“Oh… erm okay.” The person handed me a pen they had connected to their folder, and I wrote my number onto his arm.

“Why did you write it there?” Confused he looked at the number reciting it.

“So if you wash your hands, you don’t wash me away.” Smiling up at him. “Balls in your court Carlos.” Humming he looked at the number again. “I’ll be in touch querida.” (Darling.)

“Oh- it’s Y/N…”

“I didn’t say your name.”

“No- that’s why I thought I remind you… you called me-”

“Querida, I know.” (Darling.)

“What’s that mean?”

“You’ll find out.” Smiling he then squeezed my arm heading into his garage with the other person.

I was trying to remember what he called me and how he said it- but it had already left my mind when he touched my arm. It was like he flicked on a switch and I was on fire.

Still gobsmacked I turned to the garage that had people running sorting the car out, Carlos was no where in sight, he must have gone to get changed or something because he defiantly wasn’t in his racing suit.

“Carlos Sainz…” it sounded like heaven on the lips, smiling blissfully to myself I decide to leave it up to him, walking away from the garage, maybe I could stay for one more race…

Walking around I tried finding a good spot, pulling my phone out getting the camera ready. The speakers where barely heard over the sound of the cars as they were started up.

I could just about see the finish line form where I was I’m guessing it’s the first corner, steadying my phone I press record the cars all going round doing a slow lap, or warming up the tires as the lady next to me had said.

First lap and there was a terrible crash, right in front of the first corner, loud sounds of gasps came from everyone. The car had flipped upside down and was sliding along the gravel and ended up wedged between the two barriers. Luckily the driver came out un injured- but even so it made your stomach churn… it was scary to witness especially right in front of your eyes.

With each lap there was nearly a car less on the track, and I still found myself watching out for the number ‘55’ each time it had come round, merely out of worry.

It was nearing the end of the race, they was just coming up to the finish straight, Carlos still in first place. The silence of the crowd all holding our breaths as he come flying through the checkered flag.

It sent everyone into a loud mass of cheers and applause, and the English crowd screamed louder when Lewis crossed the line. A moral victory and everyone glad he was on the podium at his home race.

Everyone had migrated round to the stage area where they accept their trophy’s, it was packed, all like sardines… the weather was unbearable especially in this mass of people, so pulling myself away I stood at the very back and used my phone camera to zoom in on Carlos.

Watching my phone with a smile, a blush had crept to my face. He looked even better than earlier- he looked rough- and weirdly enough Carlos pulled it off. He just looked great… I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

The day finally came to an end, overall I wouldn’t be put off by watching cars go round and round, if I meant bumping into Carlos again… he was wonderful, he had a lovely smile, a laugh that I wanted to hear on repeat, my body still felt ecstatic every time I say his name. Even thinking of him.

I had finally reached my car still in a trance, in my own little world. Giddy by how the day had ending, I guess it wasn’t such a bad date after all…

The only thing I was waiting for now was any contact from him. I just had to be patient-

Once home that night I had made dinner and showered, getting changed into some pyjamas, it was still warm in England the summer being close to one of the warmest summers. Satin sets and air conditioning was the only way of battling through the night, and lots of hydration.

I was relaxing on the sofa watching tv when my phone broke the quietness ringing out loud, jumping slightly I picked the phone up, the contact read as unknown number. Confused I press the answer hoping it wasn’t some scam…

“Hello?” I press the mute button on the tv trying to listen.

“Y/N?” Just by saying my name he had a smile on my face and butterflies dancing around my stomach. Like a giddy school girl I tucked my legs underneath me hugging the phone tight.

“You called-”

“I didn’t know wether to text or call- but here we are.” Laughing a little down the phone I smiled even more… it could possibly break my face.

“Congratulations on your win.”

“You watched?” I nod my head, then quickly said yes realising he couldn’t see me.

“Is the guy who crashed okay? You know, the first lap…”

“Sí, Sí… bit shaken I think that’s all.” He sighed into the phone, and my heart went out to him.

“Longs his okay… how are you?”

“I’m okay- I wish I didn’t watch it back… it was horrible.”

Humming the line went silent…

“Are you still in England?”

“Yeah- I fly out in a tomorrow,” a few muffles was heard from his side clearly moving around.

“Oh where are you off to next?”

“Austria.”

“Well I’ll be watching” smiling a little, praying I wasn’t too forward, I then heard his little chuckle.

“I think you was my lucky charm today-”

Laughing also, my face now heating up. He definitely has a way with words-

“You think?” He hummed back rusting around again.

“Can I see you?”

“Err, I doubt I can get to where you are right now- and I’m in my pyjamas…” mumbling I fiddled with the pillow in front of me.

“FaceTime?”

“I’m in my pyjamas-” laughing again, but he already had the FaceTime going I just had to accept.

Looking around quickly I grabbed the cushion and put it in front of myself to hide the pyjamas, and sorting my hair out quickly. It still being a little damp from the shower… chewing on my lip I observed myself again before pressing accept.

And there he was, and again… I think even more handsome… I can’t put my finger on it maybe it was how his hair had curled a little in front of his head- made him look just incredible… maybe it was how his eyes seemed to still be relishing in his victory, I just don’t know but he is perfect.

“Hi-” I mailed wide at seeing his face pulling the phone a little closer.

“Hello querida.” (Darling)

“Are you doing to tell me what it means or shall I translate it?” Laughing a little leaning my head back.

“No, no don’t ruin the fun!” Laughing also he got up moving over to the bed laying down, his head against his pillow.

“So, what brings you to the race?” He smiled moving his hand up and playing with his hair.

“I actually had a date there…” mumbling I switch the tv off heading upstairs also.

“A date? Who takes a lady on a date there?” His eyebrows was furrowed, clear confusion on his face. I gasped agreeing with him.

“I thought the same thing!”

“Where were they? When we bumped into each other?”

“I wouldn’t say we bumped into each other Carlos. I had no idea who you was- and you thought I was a fan… which I am now by the way-” tilting my head slightly at him, I climb into bed also, my side lamp still on.

“Definitely my favourite-” he smiled before rolling onto his side, “I didn’t see him around, unless I pushed him out the way or something without realising?”

“No he ran off before you got the chance…” I sighed looking away from the camera.

“That’s good.” He hummed, causing me to frown and look back at him. “Sorry… but how?”

“Well we defiantly wouldn’t have been speaking now, no?” It was my turn to hum and roll my eyes playfully. “I see” he started laughing moving the phone away from him.

Once he calmed down he spoke again, “So-”

“So…” I also turned on my side smiling to myself.

“Stealing hearts aside.”

He gestured his hands in front of him and I nodded my head slowly.

“What else do you do?”

“Are you implying something Mr.Sainz?” Raising my eyebrows at him.

“Hm?” He raised his eyebrows also, both smiling at each other.

“I would say you have stolen my heart completely.”

Now it was my turn to burst into laughter, Carlos laughing along, “Well stealing hearts, aside- I am a Y/J/C”

“Incredible, you really are perfect-”

Blushing harder I move my phone away, “Stop it…”

“Don’t move me!” He laughed again pulling his phone closer to himself, chasing me to once again laugh.

“You really are something, I just can’t quite put my finger on it.” I smile wistfully, eyes glued to him. “Your so pretty.” Mumbling quietly lost in thought.

And that’s when I noticed it, the blush slowly creeping up his cheeks. It made him even more cuter… absolutely perfect.

“Now you stop it-”

Glancing at the time I let out a sigh…

“I should let you go, you have a flight-” I watch Carlos eyes move slightly clearly checking the time before he looked back at the camera.

“Sí, I don’t want to go.” Sighing also his face now slightly deflated.

“Me neither…” I whisper holding the phone tighter.

“When can I see you again? In person-”

My breath got caught in my throat before I smiled a little.

“You really want to see me again?”

“I would be stupid not to.”

“Well Carlos, the ball is in your court.” I smiled a little more, remembering earlier when I said the exact same thing.

“Come to Austria.” He quickly sat up, face turned serious.

“I can’t- don’t you think that’s a little too soon?”

“When you know, you know.” He shrugged like he didn’t just ask me to fly to another country with him.

“Carlos I have a job- I can’t just get up and go…”

“So if you didn’t have a job, you would’ve came?” His smile now returning.

“I didn’t say that…” smiling shyly, knowing full well I would’ve probably considered it-

“I don’t know what it is- I just have this urge to have you there… I need to see you again.” Sighing he laid back defeated.

“Come to the airport- I’ll come to you?” He suggested quickly.

“Carlos-”

“Please.” We both stare at each other, Carlos pleasing eyes slowly making me cave…

“I’ll see you at the airport, okay?”

A bright smile broke out on his face and he shuffled around excitedly.

“Sí Sí. I’ll text you the details.”

“Okay- goodnight Carlos”

“Goodnight querida” he winked into the camera, and blew me a kiss, causing me to laugh a little.

“Goodnight.” The call ended and I really couldn’t stop the smile… it hurt how bad I was smiling.

Carlos sainz, you really are something.

A/N: I’ve had to rush a few things- seeing as I promised a time and didn’t stick to it- we’ve been having a heatwave in England and I really couldn’t get the fic finished- howeverrrr this could become a slow series. Because I’m kinda liking chili 😉 Let me know what you think- so far 🖤

Tag: @copper-boom 🖤

Masterlist

#f1 imagine #carlos sainz imagine #f1 fanfic #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz junior #carlos sainz fanfic

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