#tw: miscarriage
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Women in the “Global South” are at the forefront of experiencing the worst of climate change and they are facing the gravest of consequences due to global inaction on this catastrophe.
#feminism#climate crisis#climate catastrophe#climate emergency#tw: miscarriage#imperialism#reproductive justice
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Unlucky
Pairing: Dark Ramsay Bolton x (female) Reader
SUMMARY: Sadly you lose your baby. But what’s even worse is that it’s Ramsay’s baby.
▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.
More at Masterlist
WARNINGS: Miscarriage; Violence; Abusive Marriage; Threats.
Please, reblog and give me feedback.
Also this is the only angry Ramsay gif I could find 😅 hope you guys like it, it's a bit too dark.
--
“There were some…complications, my lord.”
Ramsay looks at you, eyes darting towards your covered middle. Your hands grip the bed sheet and you gulp as fear runs through you.
The agony of losing a child is defeated by the fear of whatever the future holds for you.
That’s what marriage with Ramsay resulted in. Nothing but fear and despair.
"The babe? Is it fine? What happened?” Ramsay inquires the maester, genuine concern displayed in his face.
The maester glances at you, his face falling into a bow, and you do the same, avoiding Ramsay’s eyes. The excruciating pain in your middle worsens with the panic you feel, tears starting to flood your eyes.
The silence perpetuates.
“No. No!” you close your eyes, small sobs escaping you upon Ramsay’s frustration. His voice growing in volume until it cracks, desperate howls of agony as he mourns over your dead child.
Your eyes opened in a fright as fingers painfully dig into your cheeks. Ramsay hovers over you, fury disfiguring his features.
“You…You little bitch! You did this.” He growls, eyes squinting with suspicion and your face snaps to the side with the force of his slap.
“You never wanted it, did you? My heir…my son.”
“No! Ramsay, please-“
Your pleas are rapidly interrupted with another smack, this one harsher. Your tongue tastes the blood of your torn lower lip but you know it’s only the beginning. His hand can go much harder than that.
“You killed my child, you vicious whore.” He accuses you, grabbing you by your hair, the sharp sting making you whimper.
The madness and rage that burns in his eyes terrifies you.
Ramsay spits in your face, the vigor of his hold increasing to the point that you can feel some of your roots giving up.
He gets closer and you stop your breathing.
“You’re going to suffer for this. When I’m done with you, you won’t even remember your own name. You’ll cry tears of blood and wish you were dead already.” he threatens you, his voice lowered to a whisper.
“And then you’re going to give me a child. A son. And another. And another. You’ll give me what I want. Over and over until you’re nothing more than my breeding bitch. That’s what you deserve.”
#@mrsdarkandyandere7#ramsay bolton x reader#dark game of thrones#dark got#ramsay bolton imagine#dark!ramsay bolton#dark ramsay bolton#dark!ramsay bolton x reader#dark ramsay bolton x reader#tw: toxic marriage#tw: dark content#tw.dark content#yandere x reader#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones imagine#tw: miscarriage#tw. miscarriage#tw.violence#tw: violence#yandere ramsay bolton
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Please read the trigger warnings before clicking read more.
My heart is broken. I found out that I lost my pregnancy at my week 8 scan today. I am still in shock and I’m pretty sure a part of me is broken forever.
If anyone has gone through the same thing, I would be very grateful if you could share your experience. We are flying to Australia for a two-week holiday on Saturday, and I want to pass the miscarriage naturally. The doctor said it should be safe to do so, and I can always opt for medicine treatment if it still hasn’t passed naturally in my trip. But it would help so much if I could speak with someone who’s gone through something similar.
I just wanted to let you guys know what’s going on. I think I’ll be needing a lot of comfort to get through this so I will probably be hanging around here, but if I don’t respond or anything this is why.
I love you all, please take care of yourselves.
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So...anyone remember that version of the Rejected Soulmate AU where Danny turns Tim into a Halfa against his will and Tim developed picture powers and trapped Phantom in a painting?
Well I do and I'm about to make it everyone else's problem.
When Danny is finally released from the painting he is not okay. He had been trapped in an attic where pretty much no one went to and then everyone outright avoided for years.
He was essentially stuck in solitary confinement for Ancients know how long. People don't just walk away from that and get to be perfectly sane afterwords. Whats more was that Dannys core was damaged right before being picturefied. Usually the damage sustained would have been nothing more than the equivalent of a skinned knee but being surrounded on all sides by the essence or not only another ghost but another Halfa...well...when two ghosts mix thier essences together they can create a new core.
A baby.
Unfortunately for Phantom both of them were Halfas and Danny had no access to human requirements such as food and water.
Phantoms body couldn't handle the strain of a pregnancy and he had a miscarriage. Worse still, he was constantly surrounded by Tim's essence so he just...kept getting pregnant and kept having miscarriage after miscarriage. When Danny was released he sobbed. It wasn't unusual so hear sobbing or crying from what was dubbed "Dannys room" all around him were the empty cores of the children he had lost, splayed across the floor without a glow and without a life. He looked up at the wall he had been hanging on and saw a distinct discoloration where his portrait used to be. For the love of the Ancients, how long had be been trapped there??
Danny eventually managed to calm down and went over to one of the boxes that hadn't been touched since Alfred stopped coming he tried not to think about that and quietly dumped the contents out onto the floor and used the box to gather up the so many far too many cores.
He would hold a funeral for them all at a later date, but for now he needed to escape the manor.
Sneaking down the stairs he kept his senses sharp. There seemed to be no one in the manor and it appeared to have been that way for quite some time. Alfred would rise from the grave himself if he knew how much dust had accumulated in his absence.
Danny walked past a puddle on the living room floor absently noting the large stain on the ceiling that periodically let a drop splash down into the dampness below. What had happened here? Clearly Tim hadn't died the rest of the way anytime soon after locking Danny up and throwing away the key, so what was up with the manor? How long had Danny been gone? Did they abandon him along with the house? That thought sent his stomach churning.
He knew Tim didn't want him. He had been okay with that so long as he played with him. Most soulmate bonds were platonic and Danny wasn't above pestering someone for attention. Red Robin had almost always seemed annoyed by his presence though and never really gave him a chance even when he seemed to be having fun with whatever "mini game" he had constructed (he made sure to base them off of Reds own hobbies and likes) he had seemed to be holding himself back. Tim never opened up to Danny.
Now Danny was the one trying to avoid Tim as he slipped out one of the manors secret passageways. Thank you old school money and your paranoid aristocrats. He wondered it Bruce even knew of all the secret passageways the Phantom had scoped out in Wayne Manor as he slipped out of a bush behind some old house on another property. Judging on how he had to phase his way out of the hidden door and under the bushes roots he'd go out on a limb and guess no one had used this one in quite a while.
He decided to still stick to the shadows. Even if he had escaped the manor it didn't change the fact that if Tim didn't already know he escaped he would soon enough and would be out looking for him with the rest of the furry patrol.
What about Hood? Did he still hate him? Danny wasn't even sure what went wrong. One day they were friends and then the next he wouldn't even look at him. Did Tim say something? Would he stoop so low? Either way he didn't think Hood would help him. He could feel Hoods Ecto-signature over in the direction of Crime Alley so he couldn't have been trapped for two long, right?
Wrong. So so wrong. According to the date on the electronic billboard he had been trapped for 133 years. Ancients. In other news Tim Drake had been attacked and fallen into a coma not too long ago, which would explain why Danny was free and not being chased. That and his collar that hid his ecto signature. Every day he's thankful for it.
Now would be the best time to leave Gotham. Now while everyone is distracted and Tim can't shove Danny back into his own private Hell.
By the time Tim realizes Danny is missing he will already be long gone.
#rejected soulmate au#braindead rejected soulmate au#rejected soulmate#prompts#fanfiction prompts#dp x dc#danny phantom#danny fenton#batman#red robin#yum#tim drake#tw miscarriage#tw pregnancy#miscarriage#tw: unexpected pregnancy#tw: pregnancy#tw: miscarriage#solitary confinement#immortal danny fenton#immortal tim drake#immortal Jason Todd#halfa tim drake#halfa jason todd#tw: angst#angst#ive come for your hearts#and i will bruise them#danny is terrified of tim#like he has legit nightmares of tim finding him and putting him back in that painting
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He doesn’t know.
~ gif not mine credit to owner ~
Pairing: Tony Stark x fem!Reader
Summary: You and Tony date until he breaks your heart, he soon regrets it.
Word count: 1,800
Warnings: angst. cheating (sorry). Tony’s 40 readers 28. Swearing. pepper is terrible (sorry) mentions of miscarriage.
Masterlist
You had been dating Tony for the past three years, you met when he bumped into you in the restaurant you worked at. The air was knocked out of the both of you, you not only because you hadn’t expected to be nearly knocked down on your ass or the feeling of a strong arm wrapping themselves around your waist just before you hit the ground. Him because he wasn’t expecting to knock into the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.
From that day on Tony came into the restaurant just to see you, spending money on food he didn’t eat sometimes he would just sit at the bar and talk to you if you were manning it.
Six months after your initial meeting he asked you out even though there was an age difference between the pair of you, you said yes.
Everyday since you two were dating was different, he spoiled you to no end from expensive gifts to lavish trips to beautiful places. The love you two shared was something you never experienced before, it was pure. It was genuine.
You had never been happier.
For the past five months Tony was becoming distant from you, he was always working on projects that he never let you in on which you understood, you didn’t need to know the ins and outs of his business. Whenever you were lucky enough to spend time with him he was on his phone texting. When he came home from work he would go straight into the bathroom and you’d be lying in bed hearing the shower running.
For five months you tried and tried to get him to slow his work schedule down worried for what it was going to do with his health but all he replied with was yeah I will, but it never happened.
Today was your four year anniversary and since he hadn’t said anything about what you two would be doing you had decided that you’d surprise him at work with a home cooked meal since you knew he wouldn’t leave to go to a restaurant as work was too busy. Hopefully he could spare thirty minutes of his time to spend with you. It was your anniversary after all.
Getting out of the car you walked into the tower, greeting the receptionist with a smile receiving one in return you go into the elevator. The higher the box went up the worse your nerves got.
It’s just Tony, you thought to yourself.
Once the door opened you looked around to see any of the hero’s you had become friends with in the now four years you had been with Tony but you couldn’t find anyone so you headed straight to Tony’s office. Knocking on the door twice you opened the door.
And that’s where everything that had been happening in the past five months where Tony had been acting strange and distant had all made sense.
The man you was in love with, the man you stood by when everyone slated him, the man that defended you publicly when you was being called a gold digger, the man who has now officially broke your heart.
That man was sitting on the couch in his office with a blonde woman sat on his lap. Lips locked together. Her shirt on the floor. His hands roaming her torso.
“This looks bad...”
That’s all what the man who you have loved for four years, the man who you have just caught cheating on you, said when he heard you drop the containers off food on the floor.
“What is it babe? Oh it’s you” the blonde said when he pulled away from her, she saw where he was looking so she turned to face you.
Your heart dropped.
It was Pepper.
With your eyes fixed on his you stumbled backwards knocking into the door frame on your way out. Turning around you walked as fast as your legs could carry you back to the elevator, with every step you took you could hear Tony behind you.
“Y/n. Y/n, baby slow down. Please just wait” thanks to the wait of the elevator he managed to catch up to you.
“Baby it-it’s not what-“
“How long?”
His heart clenched painfully at the way your voice sounded so small, seeing the way you flinched at him touching you crushed him. Tony knew that he only had himself to blame. He also knew he was going to have to tell you the truth, knowing for a fact that you were going to be leaving him forever when he told you broke his heart.
“Y/n-“
“How long”
“S-six mo-months” Tony’s stomach sunk when he saw your hand go flying to cover your mouth, hearing a muffled sob coming from you.
“W-why?”
“Y/n-“
“Why. Why Tony?”
“I-I-I…I don’t know”
He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why he’s been cheating on you for the past six months. He doesn’t know why he’s cheated on you and thrown your three years relationship down the drain.
He doesn’t even have an answer to give you for breaking your heart into millions of pieces.
“Wasn’t-“ No. No you wasn’t going to ask that. No way was you going to ask the cheater ‘wasn’t I good enough’ or ‘what did I do wrong’. He was the one that cheated, not you. No way was you going to ask all the questions that you wanted to ask because he simply did not know why he had been cheating on you for the past six months with his assistant.
The same assistant that knew you two were dating.
“Y/n baby please-“
“Babe have you told her?” Pepper’s voice cut him off this time.
Tony’s eyes went straight to his shoes finding it easier for him to shake his head without looking at you.
“To-told me what?”
What could be worse than finding out that your boyfriend had been cheating on you for six months?
“I’m pregnant! We’re going to have a baby”
That’ll do it. That was worse.
You and Tony agreed that you’d both start trying to get pregnant when you celebrated your three year anniversary. It just wasn’t working but you kept trying. Until eight months ago. You found out you was pregnant, the way Tony’s face lit up with tears streaming down his cheeks when you told him he was going to be a father engrained it’s self into your memory.
A month after that happy day you woke up to cramps in your stomach, Tony rushed you to the hospital where they told you that you had lost baby Stark.
Maybe that’s what drove him into the arms of another woman. A woman who was the same age as him. A woman that could give him what he’s always wanted.
A woman that simply wasn’t you.
“D-do you love her?”
Tony frowned at the question, he expected you to call him names or something. He expected you to tell him that he was worse than the devil himself but no, no you asked him if he loved Pepper.
“Y-yes”
“I-I wish you two t-the best.” Tony’s sad eyes filled with tears, the itch to ask him why he was sad for gnawed at you, Pepper looked smug.
Turning to Pepper you looked her in the eyes “you know the saying don’t you? What they do with you…they do on you”
You were rather proud of the fact that you didn’t stutter when looking at the woman who was sleeping with your boyfriend. Seeing her smug smile drop when she understood what you were implying turned your pain into satisfaction.
“Y/n?”
“Hel-hi Tony”
“I knew that was you, hi”
It’s been six years since you last saw Tony, a year after leaving you met a divorcee a few months after moving to a new town. Things moved quickly between the pair of you, a year after meeting him he proposed, a month later you were married, eight months later you gave birth to your daughter. Finding yourself pregnant four months after giving birth to Ali, several months afterwards you gave birth to twin boys Harvey and Jackson.
“Hi Tony. What are you doing here?”
Here being in the town you lived in with your family, here being in the car park of target.
“We had a mission just dropping off for some food, what about you?”
“I live here”
“Oh, so how have you been?”
“Fine. What about you?”
“Fine. Fine. I-I messed up Y/n/n badly! Turned out that the baby wasn’t mine an-and I’ve been trying to find yo-“
“Momma!” You turned around to find Ali running at you full speed, her pigtails flailing around as she got closer to you.
“Momma? Y/n is she mine?”
“No-“ you had to laugh at his question. Luckily he hadn’t touched you in them five months of him cheating on you, it was impossible for him to be the dad of your beautiful baby girl. “No she’s my husbands”
“H-husband?” Tony stuttered, eyes going straight to your ring finger. Heart sinking when he found a shiny diamond ring sitting there.
“That would be me, nice to meet a friend of Y/n’s. Baby the twins made me get them a new toy”
“Made you? Your an adult, they are only children”
“They’re scary babe”
Tony stood there awkwardly watching the interaction between the woman who he has never stopped loving, and her husband.
“T-twins? You have three kids?”
“Yeah, they practically run the house. Always outnumbered with the three little rascals” your husband said smiling proudly. “Oh by the way I’m Andy, nice to meet you.”
“Tony”
“Yeah I know who you are. Come on baby we need to get going home” Tony didn’t like the way Andy’s voice was towards him.
“Coming love. It was nice seeing you Tony, I’m sorry about the baby. I wish you nothing but happiness, goodbye”
You didn’t even let him say anything back to you before you took Andy’s waiting hand as he had Ali in his other arm.
Getting into the car with your husband after he got Ali into her car seat, you smiled at the twins and Jacob - your stepson - then at your husband.
After finding out about Tony’s betrayal you thought you would never find love and happiness again but life lead you to Andy, the man who made you feel loved more than Tony ever did. Andy made you feel happier more than Tony ever did.
“Let’s go home”
As your family’s car pulled out of the parking lot Tony’s eyes never left the vehicle.
He had lost his everything the moment he let Pepper kiss him that first time. Now six years on he had truly lost his world to another man.
Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77
#marvel#marvel fanfiction#tony stark angst#tony stark fic#tony stark#tony stark iron man#tony stark x reader#tony stark fanfiction#tony stark imagine#iron man#marvel mcu#avengers#tony stark cheating#tony stark x y/n#tony stark x pepper potts#tony stark x you angst#cheating tony stark#tony stark x you#tony stark female reader#tw: miscarriage
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Goodbye, Goodbye // Jake Seresin
-> A Terms of Endearment Blurb
Summary: Jake & Amilia have been trying for a year, when they do fall pregnant it leads to a much bigger discovery and an even bigger heart heartbreak.
Warnings: Pregnancy journey. Pregnancy talk. Miscarriage. Ovarian Cancer. Jake Seresin x OC reader. PLEASE READE THE WARNINGS
Word Count: 4.2k
Author Note: Day Twenty One of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Near Death Experience. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.
Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist
The love between Jake Seresin and Amilia Fisher was as fierce as love could be. It was no secret to anyone around them that they had a love that burned so deep and so profound that they would forever and always be each other’s end game. Each other's soul mates. For all that they had been through and worked on, new love grew in the form of healed wounds and new trust.
They had, for what it was worth—survived The Great War.
“I can’t keep doing this.” Amilia sighed as she crawled into bed beside her husband with yet another negative pregnancy test. “It’s been twelve months of constant let downs.” She frowned at the stupid plastic first response she knew she shouldn’t buy but kept repurchasing anyway. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I can’t keep doing this to myself Jake.”
Amilia laid her head on Jake's shoulder as he sat up in their bed. The two of them had been trying for one whole year. One whole year of negative pregnancy tests. One whole year old preconception vitamins. One whole year of sperm health tables. One whole year of tips and tricks Amilia’s Flo app had given her. One whole year of prime positions and menstrual cycle tracking and temperature monitoring and diet changes.
One whole year of nothing by failed attempts and broken hearts.
“I know, and hey—I know we’re both on the same page about wanting this.” Jake cooed as he took the negative test from his wife’s hand. “But maybe it just isn’t our time?”
“So do we keep trying or do we go see a fertility specialist and try to figure out what’s going on?” They had been told to try and convince naturally for twelve consecutive months before reaching out to a specialist. That was the recommendation. But with every month that passed them by, Amilia grew more and more frustrated and concerned that something could be wrong.
“I think we keep trying, but do that in tandem with talking to a specialist.” Jake cooed. “I love you, I want this yeah?”
“I want this too—so bad.” Amilia could feel her bottom lip quivering. She wanted to be a mother so badly, she wanted to give Jake the chance to be a dad. He was already the best uncle to Odette and Riley, even if he was halfway across the world three months at a time. “I just don't know if I can't handle another negative test, my body is literally designed to have children and I can't even get a stupid fertilised egg to embed in me.” Jake had to laugh sympathetically as Amilia snuggled into his side with a huff. She was doing her best, he knew that.
“For all we know it could be me who's shooting blanks.” He reminded her. “We’ll talk to someone who can help us alright, but for now, let's just appreciate the time we have together before kiddos and prams and family passes and all the sleepless nights we’ll surely have.”
“I know you're frustrated.” Amilia mumbled into Jake's side. His tan torso was hot to the touch, her walking talking furnace. “You don't have to be the optimistic one all the time.”
“Trust me–” Jake admitted in the low light of their bedroom the two shared in Townsville, Australia. ”I am, but I'm not frustrated with you.” Jake felt like he had to make that clear as clear could be. “I think I'm just frustrated that we’re kinda told that if you have sex you get pregnant and die.” It was an over exaggeration of the poor sex education system, but Jake pretty much nailed it. “And now that we’re trying, it just sucks that it hasn't happened the way I always thought it would.”
“Makes me jealous of Fe for getting pregnant so easily.” Amilia felt awful saying it, but she knew her husband wouldn't spill her horrid thoughts. “Riley was a thought and then she was real in the span of a year and Nicky well, we both know Nicky was a little oopsie baby, our children, if we keep going at this rate will have sixty five year old parents in their teens.”
“How do people do it.'' Jake sighed as he sunk a little lower into the bed and pulled his wife into his chest. “Oopsie babies, I mean–I just don't get it, how do you not know?”
“We’re horrible people aren't we?” Amilia chuckled to herself as she curled into her husband. They were ready for the next big phase in life, but something was holding them back from stepping into parenthood. Some divine intervention that was telling them now wasn't their time. But my god did they both want it just as bad as each other.
“Hmm, maybe.” Jake kissed Amilias shoulder softly as he revelled in the scent of her body wash. “But no one needs to know, and all those people out there getting pregnant the first time round? They’re just overachievers.”
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~
Amilias period was four days late. She initially didn't think much of it because she knew when she got stressed it messed with her cycle, but something deep inside her was telling her to take just one more test. Something was telling her that if she took just one more, that it would be the positive she had been praying for.
“If you’re fucking with me man I’m gonna be pissed.” She wasn’t a religious person, but Amilia believed that there was something bigger than herself out there. So as the little stick sat upside down on the counter of her bathroom vanity—she spoke to whatever the hell that bigger idea was. “I’m serious, I can’t take it.”
The timer felt obnoxious, but Amilia jumped as the silence in her bathroom was broken by the set standard alarm her phone rang with. Three entire minutes had passed and she was standing on the edge of a cliff she knew that she’d jump off if that plastic stick was negative. She couldn’t do it anymore, it was torture.
“Alright, fuck it.” She groaned as she reached out to check the pregnancy test. To Amelia's surprise though it wasn’t what she had originally been expecting. “Oh my god—“ It was positive. Her first positive. “No fucking way.” Two very pink very clear very there lines were looking back at Amilia as she cupped a hand over her mouth and crouched down. Her knees felt weak, she had to remind herself to breathe or else she was going to pass out from the pure joy that was pulsing through her veins.
“Holy shit, I’m pregnant!” Amilia had thought about all the different ways she could have told her husband that they were expecting, she even had one of those ‘Hi Daddy’ newborn onesie tucked away somewhere deep in their closet for a rainy day. But as her feet hit the pavement of the Townville Naval base, Amilia made a B-line for the administration building to get herself a visitors pass.
“Your wife’s looking for you.” Gucci told Jake as he caught up with him in one of the hallways. “She’s in G building.”
“Oz is on base?” Jake replied with caution lacing his words.
“I just saw her, she asked if I saw you to send you her way.” Jake wasn’t about to stick around and play twenty one questions with his wingman. He let his feet carry him over to G building where he’d been told his wife was looking for him. Jake's locker was in G building, so was the canteen he frequented and the rec room he liked the most—so it was only natural for Amilia to assume that would be the easiest place to start.
“Oz?” Jake cooed as he rounded a particular corner and saw the back of his wife’s head. “What are you doing here? Are you alright? What’s wrong?”
Without question or any explanation, Amilia ran towards her husband with a smile so bright and a laugh so full of joy that it nearly knocked Jake to the ground. She jumped into his unexpecting arms that were quick to catch her as her legs wrapped around his wide but muscular frame.
“Babe!?”
“I’m pregnant!” Two words, it took just two words for Jake Seresins heart to implode in his chest. “We’re pregnant Jake we fucking did it!”
“You’re pregnant?” Jake never thought his heart could get any bigger, but he knew in that very moment his heart grew—it imploded and grew back twice the size it originally was to cater for the little life the two of them had created. “Are—are you sure?”
Amilia Fisher couldn’t be sure until she had a blood test done, but when the ten pregnancy test she took all from different brands came up as fat as fuck positives—she knew they couldn’t be lying. She was pregnant.
“I’m sure, I’m so sure Jake, we’re gonna be parents!”
Jake sat his wife back down on the ground but he never let her go. He kissed her with enough passion and love to have her heart fluttering inside her chest and her lungs burning with desire. His hands cupped her flushed with heat cheeks so she couldn’t pull away—and through the entire embrace, Amilia couldn’t stop smiling against her husband's lips.
“Holy shit we’re pregnant!” Jake let his forehead settle against his wife’s. “Oz, I love you so very much.”
“We’re gonna have a baby Seresin.” Amilia laughed as she ran the pad of her thumb across Jake's cheek. “Us, you and me, with a baby.”
“Half you half me huh.” Jaked cooed, he was over the moon. Amilia widened her eyes in response before she laughed, they were having the baby they had dreamed of having.
“Oh god what a combo—“
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~
“You’ll need to make an appointment with an OBGYN for an ultrasound at around six to eight weeks.” With a single blood test, the pregnancy that Jake and Amilia had been waiting for had been officially confirmed. “But congratulations, you are very much pregnant, Mrs Seresin.”
“You hear that Oz?” Jake cooed as he squeezed Amilias hand in the doctor's office. “Very pregnant.”
The two were keeping everything on the downlow, Amilia, albeit very excited and full of joy to finally experience her biggest wish—wanted to wait till she was out of the first trimester until her and Jake started telling the people closer to them. However, that didn’t stop Jake from telling you, his closest friend, his sister, his person.
“Amilias pregnant!?” You shouted down the phone. “Oh my god congratulations! How far along is she?”
“Uh—we just left the doctors office like five minutes ago, four weeks?” Jake looked over to where his wife sat in the passenger's seat, beaming at your reaction over the loudspeaker. “She’s here with me.”
“Oz! You’re pregnant oh my god!” You wanted to cry, Jake was going to be an amazing dad and Amilia was going to be the best mum. That kid was already so loved at conception. “I’m so happy for the two of you, I’m gonna have to tell Rooster you know that right?”
“I never thought this day would actually come but yeah, we’re pregnant.” Amilia reached out for her husband's hand before he brought it up to his lips. “And yeah, that’s fine, but don’t tell the cowboy alright I wanna tell Rhett myself.”
“So he can tell you that you’re an idiot?” You laughed as you sat in the livingroom at midnight, feeding little Nicky. Bradley was on a mission which left you outnumbered three to one.
“Yeah, but I know he cares.” Amilia and Rhett Abbott were quite close for two people who pretended like they couldn’t stand one another.
***~***~***~***~***~***~***
The happiness didn’t last for very long. Seven weeks into Amilias first and what would ultimately be last, something went wrong. The kitchen was buzzing with music as she chopped up a quick garden salad to go with dinner, sausages Jake was cooking on the barbecue. She hadn’t changed out of her pyjamas all day, and had barely gotten out of bed. But as six o’clock rolled around on Saturday afternoon, Amilia felt a little more like herself and hoisted herself up.
“Almost finished with these bad boys.” Jake called out over his shoulder through the window that led back into the kitchen, he could see his wife, the love of his life in the corner of his eye. “How’s that salad looking?”
“Diced and chopped daddio—“ Amilia teased as she flicked the rest of the cherry tomatoes off the chopping board into the bowl. “I’ve just gotta add the—“ Oh, that didn’t feel good.
“Add the what babe?” Jake thought he just didn’t hear what Amilia had said, he thought he had just missed the tail end of her sentence, but she’d stopped mid sentence at the feeling of her lower abdomen cramping, like a bad period pain. “Oz?” Jake frowned as he cut the gas and took the sausages off the hot plate.
“The cheese.” Amilia clenched her jaw as she tried to breathe through the pain, it only got worse with every breath she took. “I just have to add the—Ahh!” It felt like someone had stabbed a hot knife into her and had begun to drag the aerated edge across her body. “Ahh—“
“Amilia!” Jake had all but forgotten the tray of sausages he was carrying in when he saw his wife on the floor in a heap, curling into herself to try and stop the pain. “Hey, what’s wrong, hey—?”
Breathe, in out, in out. She was fine.
“Babe I can’t help if you don’t te—“ The blood told Jake all he needed to know before Amilia could even begin to get her words out. “Oh god—no.”
“Jake—“ Her husband's name was the only thing Amilia could will herself to speak as she saw the blood between her legs, seeping into her pyjama pants. The same pyjama pants she’d been in all day because she just hadn’t felt well. “I’m fine, we’re okay, we’re fine, we’re, aaahh—!”
Everyone needs just one person in their lives who say things like ‘You got this’ ‘I believe in you’ and ‘You will find courage and energy in yourself that you normally wouldn’t have had before.’
But more importantly, that person needs to also say the things that no one wants to hear. And if things were to go wrong? They would be there in the mud for whatever reason.
Jake was that person for Amilia Fisher-Seresin. He had the ability to say something’s wrong when she couldn’t bring herself to believe it.
“Honey, I think we need to get you up to the hospital.” He had the ability to worry, to care and understand that something was horribly wrong and that there shouldn’t be this much blood or this much pain when it came to implantation bleeding and spotting. Amilia was having what Jake could only assume to be a miscarriage and all he could do in that moment was put his own feelings of grief and sorrow aside to help the only woman he’d ever truly loved. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”
“No no no no no—“ Amilia cried as she bawled her fists into the cotton of Jake's t-shirt before her tears strained the white fabric. He could smell the iron in the air. “Jake—“ She sobbed. “Our baby, somethings wrong.”
“Let me take you to the emergency room sweetheart.” Jake had to hold his own tears back, this wasn’t what he pictured would happen when Amilia had told them they were gonna have a baby together. “Please? I have to make sure you’re alright baby, your bleeding and—“ Jake knew he had to say it. “You are what’s important right now, you and your health baby because I can lose that baby, I can deal with that grief but I can’t lose you both alright.” Jake felt his wife’s heart shattering as she screamed into his embrace right there on the kitchen floor. “I can’t lose you both alright so I need you to let me get you some help.”
Jake thought he was a pretty tough guy, but as his wife cried in his arms bleeding as she lost their baby on the kitchen floor, he knew he wasn’t strong enough to handle this without a support system. He needed you. He needed your strength and resistance and your determination and strength to get through this. He needed you to hold him up because his knees felt weak but he had to get up. He needed to be there for his wife through everything.
“I’m sorry—“ Amilia sobbed as Jake carried her out to the car koala style. He was going to be covered in blood but that didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered besides getting Amilia the care she needed. “I’m so sorry.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong sweetheart.” Jake cooed. “Not a damn thing.”
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***
“We had to give her a sedative in order to examine your wife, Mr. Seresin.” Time was a fickle thing, it was neither here nor there. “She’s asleep, but for what’s it worth she’s incredibly lucky to be alive right now.” Jake could feel his phone ringing in his back pocket—you had been calling non-stop for updates ever since Amilia was taken back for an ultrasound to confirm what everyone already believed to be a miscarriage.
But he’d never remember just how he ended up standing outside his wife’s hospital room in oncology just four hours after he’d brought her into the emergency room. Jake hadn’t even had a chance to change his shirt.
“It’s critical—if we don’t get in there and operate soon, it’s hard to tell how much time she’ll actually have.” The Doctor didn’t sound like he was making any sense, Jake couldn’t process anything he was telling him. This didn’t make sense, none of it did.
“Ovarian cancer?” Jake tried to wrap his head around how his wife, how Amilia, could have ovarian cancer. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s aggressive, from the scans alone I’d say critical.” Again, nothing Doctor Thomas was saying made any sense to Jake. “Mr. Seresin, has your wife ever experienced any pain during intercourse? Painful cramps outside her normal period or—“
“Not that I’m aware of, no.” Jake knew Amilia like the back of his own hand, so the news of her diagnosis on the back of losing their child was far too much for him to handle. “What does she need? Treatment wise?”
“I can't say for certain without exploring her reproductive system more closely but if the ovaries are too far gone, we’re recommending a full hysterectomy.” Jake's brain was trying its best to compute all the little bits of information being given to him as he watched Amilia sleep. She looked as peaceful as she could be. “If the cancer is as aggressive as we believe it to be, if we leave behind any viable tissue it could spread–the miscarriage was a direct result of the tumours constricting her reproductive organs, it's a miracle she was able to convince to begin with.”
“We’d been trying for a year–” Jake explained softly, his entire world was crashing around him. All that he knew, all that he hoped for in the future was crumbling. “We had an appointment with a fertility specialist the month she fell pregnant, we never ended up going because we ended up pregnant.”
“I'm very sorry for your loss–” Doctor Thomas sympathised as he placed his hand on Jake's shoulder. The mullet kinda took away from the seriousness of his tone. “But I truly believe the miscarriage your wife suffered saved her life.” It was a take Jake never thought he’d have on such a horrid situation. “It would have killed her, she’s a very lucky woman, the blood she lost wasn't just from the miscarriage but from one of the worst ovarian torsions I’ve ever seen.”
There was so much blood, far too much blood for Jake to ever forget. He grew up on a farm, his uncle owned an abitur, he knew that humans held a lot of blood but when you physically see that much blood coming from someone you love it's hard to comprehend the magnitude of the destruction until after the fact.
“Your wife is scheduled for surgery earlier tomorrow morning, it's after visiting hours but given the circumstances i've already organised for a cot to be bright up so you can stay with her.”
“If you can't save her life without the hysterectomy, I want you to do it.” Jake nodded as he let a few stray tears fall down his cheeks. “Yeah–yeah if it's all or nothing just do it.” He pressed his lips into a fine line to try and stop his bottom lip from quivering. “But if there's even a slither of hope that you don't have to, please–just try and give her a chance, she wants to be a mum so bad.”
“I understand Mr. Seresin.” Doctor Thomas replied. “This isn't my first rodeo.”
“Unlucky for you.” Jake tried to chuckle as he crossed his arms over his chest. “It's mine.”
“Everyone I ever meet for these types of cases is their first, and if I can offer one piece of advice I’d say that there are other ways to be parents, adoption, foster care.” Doctor Thomas knew by the gaze in Jake's eyes that he was mentally checking out of the conversation. “Go be with your wife, i'll be by in the morning for post ops.”
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***
By the time Amilia was coming to in her groggy and drugged out state, Jake had already had a good cry in the dark. The hospital room was dimly lit, Jake didn't want his wife to wake up to the harsh fluorescent lights. Hell he didn't want her to wake up in general. He wanted her to stay sleeping peacefully forever, blissfully unaware of the horrors that awaited her when she woke.
“Hey there Oz.” Jake cooed as he brushed Amilias hair from her face. “I've got you baby, I'm here.” It felt like time had stood still since she first screamed out in pain in the kitchen. Jake knew when he got home that ants would be everywhere from the sausages that had fallen from the tray he carried in and the salad you never put away. “Shhh i've got you Amilia, I’m here.”
“I lost our baby.” Amilia hadn’t even opened her eyes properly and she was already incredibly aware of the heaviness in her chest. The grief she felt inside her soul. “Jake–I lost our baby.”
“It's not your fault sweetheart.” Jake sat as close as he possibly could to his wife's bedside. “We lost our baby, I know, I know and it hurts, it hurts so much but Amilia, it's not so simple.” Jake had been dreading having this conversation, he didn't know how to tell his wife she was going in for surgery. That she was sick, that she had ovarian cancer and that they may have to perform a full hysterectomy just to save her life. “The doctors figured out why it took us so long to conceive.”
“It's me, isn't it.” It broke Jake's heart to nod, but that didn't mean he thought his wife was broken. “What's wrong with me?”
“You uh–” Jake couldn't stop himself from sobbing as he stood to climb into the hospital bed to hold his wife. “You're okay, that's the main thing okay, and you're gonna be fine once the surgery is over and I'm gonna be by your side through everything.”
“I just lost our baby, I don't think I'll ever be alright again.”
“You didn't lose our baby sweetheart, you have ovarian cancer–that's what caused the miscarriage, that's what, that's what stopped us from conceiving earlier.” Jake explained as simply and as slowly as possible as he held Amilia close to him and kissed her forehead. “Losing our baby saved your life.”
“Jake, I don't have cancer.” Amilia scoffed as she shrugged him off. “Why would you even say that right now?” Jake was caught between a rock and a hard place, he didn't know what to do or what to say. “What are you even talking about right now?” That's when it hit, Jake physically saw the moment Amilia was able to process what he had said. “Oh–” Her shoulders slumped as she settled back into him. “Oh no, no no no no I can't, I can't, I don't–”
“Shhh.” Jake cooed as he wrapped his wife back into his arms. “I'm here, I've got you, you're okay.” For everything the two had been through this was certainly about to be their biggest battle, but Jake Seresin was adamant that he would be there every step of the way. “Our baby saved your life, and I'll never be able to thank them enough.”
“How bad is it?” Amilia sobbed into Jake's chest. “The cancer? And be honest Jake, please dont lie to me.”
“It's bad enough.” Jake sobbed as he held Amilia closer than he ever had before. “I'm just grateful you're alive.”
***~***~***~***~***~***~***
Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt
#ailesswhumptober2023#terms of endearment// bradley bradshaw#terms of endearment // jake seresin#jake seresin x female oc#jake seresin whump#tw: miscarriage#tw: ovarian cancer
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𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘺, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘑𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘴. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘬 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦..
#tw: miscarriage#i was yelling at my game#😭😭#sim: josephina#sim: edward#simblr#the sims community#sims 4 edit#sims 4 screenshots#sims 4 simblr#ts4 gameplay#ts4 legacy#the sims 4#ts4#ts4 screenies#ts4 screenshots#sims 4 gameplay#ts4 simblr#the sims gameplay#the sims screenshots#stefsimz#*miles/frederick household
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not to be like actually feral but like that baby trapping was actually the best writing I’ve ever read and if u ever decide to continue it imagine if reader miscarries …
ahhh, thank you!! 🖤
i'd imagine he'd probably lose his mind if that happened. reader is very much a stand-in for a plethora of things for him (re: Tommy), and he's fully under the belief that this is the only way he can keep you with him. at all. so the loss of that would probably be corrosive to his self-control.
and i think he'd blame himself. but in a way that is detrimental to you. his shackles were too loose; you injured yourself because of his carelessness. he let you outside too much. exposed you to too many people. introduced new diseases to his family. it’s all his fault, but you’re the one who ultimately pays.
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This trip to Iceland was originally booked with hopes it would be a baby moon. We were ecstatic when that pregnancy test was positive in September. And devastated when I miscarried 3 weeks later. I’ve carried a lot of grief the past 5 weeks. Some days are so so heavy and some days feel easier. My family and friends have cocooned us in so much love and support as we navigate all the feelings that come with losing what could have been. Initially I felt so alone. Like there was something I could have done differently to have stopped this from happening. But as the days go on and the more I talk about it with others, I realize that sometimes you just get dealt a shit hand.
For now, I’m feeling grateful for a few more days exploring a new country with this love of mine.
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You were bigger than the whole sky 🌙⭐️
(No Words // Bob Floyd)
#been thinking about this story a lot lately#tw: miscarriage#tw: infant loss#bob floyd#bob floyd x reader#bob mood board#bradshawsbaby mood board
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Trafalgar Law x Pregnant!Reader: Christmas Time (One Shot)
Warning: body image issues, fear of cheating, miscarriage, and being left behind.
Background: You and Law have been married for a while. Now your life is going to be bigger with the arrival of a child soon. You are 7 months pregnant and it is Christmas day. Law is spending time with you but as you get the news the straw hats are coming to visit your worries about your life with Law start to catch up.
Y/n was decorating the tree while Law was helping with the cooking. Her belly was big and heavy with a child. “Y/n you should sit down I think you decorated the tree enough,” Bepo said. “Lunch is ready” Law shouted. Since you became pregnant Law and the crew have been keeping a close eye wanting the baby to be safe. Everyone sits down for lunch while Law helps you into a seat next to him.
“I help the chef make safe recipes for the baby,” Law said rubbing your stomach. The crew is eating the tasty food especially you are enjoying it due to the baby making you hungry for more. “Purururu, purururu, purururu click” “Hello” Law answers the den-den mushi. “Oh Traffy, we are near to meet for Christmas party” Luffy shouted on the phone. “Ok, you don't have to scream in my ear Strawhat-ya”. Law said back annoyed.
Strawhat’s ship arrived at your home base you moved into after becoming pregnant. Nami and Robin hug you congratulating you on the baby. Everyone was having fun and talking during the Christmas party. You looked for Law but he talking to Robin. You don't know why but you always get worried about seeing them together due to people thinking they are dating because Law wanted to keep your relationship secret only to your close allies due to fear someone could use you against him.
It didn't help that Robin was a big-breasted skinny long-haired goddess of a woman. While you were walking around with a large stomach and chubby thighs looking all gross due to the baby keeping you up and tired. It made you feel lesser during the pregnancy. It didn't help that as you were researching in your early stage you found that pregnant women suffer from being cheated on by their partners this didn't make you feel any better that Law was close to Robin who is not carrying a baby in her like you are. You need to get rid of these thought since it making you feel depressed and that is not good for the baby.
You don't want those thoughts bothering you and making you stressed. When you got pregnant you were afraid Law would be angry but he was happy you were having his child. You did everything it make sure your baby is healthy. But you had fears that grew as you got further in the pregnancy like what if you miscarry as it is common and unpredictable would Law hate you and leave you if it happened? What if, after the baby is born he gets tired of you and leaves for Robin?
These thoughts started to take over no matter how hard you try to ignore them and you start to feel sick thinking about it. You walked to the bathroom to puke out your lunch and looked in the mirror at yourself feeling grossed out at your body changing. Law was talking to Robin about his fear of becoming a parent when he saw you going to the bathroom and excused himself to check on you. “Y/n-ya, are you ok?” Law asked behind the door. “I'm fine, just some nausea” you respond.
“May I come in?” Law asks, you open the door to let him in. “Sorry, I felt sick and needed to get away from everyone”. You said in a sad tone. “What's wrong?” Law asked worried. You decide to tell him about everything your jealousy of Robin, your worry about how your body has changed, your fear of losing your baby, and him leaving you behind. “I'm sorry Law, I don't know if I will be a good mom with everything bothering me,” you said feeling more doubt.
Law walks over to you and hugs you. “I will never cheat on you and Robin is only a friend like the rest of the strawhats are” Law tries to make you feel better. “When you told me you were pregnant at first I didn't want the baby but then thinking about raising a child with you that we made from our love made me reconsider.” “No matter what happens I will always love you and be there for you”. He added. “Stop saying all that bad stuff about your body you look amazing to me since day 1.” “when I saw your stomach growing and you caring for our unborn child makes you more beautiful” he finished. You cried in his arms feeling relieved from his words and thank him.
You two hold each other for a while before going back to the party. Everyone came over to see if you were okay and if you needed anything for the baby. “Well I'm a bit hungry,” you said feeling the baby wanted food. Sanji gives you a delicious bowl of food and the rest of the crew go back to enjoying their Christmas. A few hours later, the party ends and strawhats leave.
Everyone else was getting ready for bed. You put on your pajamas and get into bed with Law joining you. He started to rub your belly again and kiss you as the two of you lay in bed together. “Merry Christmas, y/n - ya,” Law said after the kiss. “Merry Christmas, my beloved,” you said back as sleep take you while in Law’s embrace this Christmas night.
#one piece#trafalgar law#heart pirates#trafalgar d law x reader#one piece x you#tw: miscarriage#tw: cheating#tw: abandonment#tw: body image#tw: jealousy#tw: pregnancy
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Life Update:
Hey friends ❤️ Most of you won’t know because I never got around to posting anything, but early last month I found out I was pregnant with twins (yes, I immediately wanted to name them Fives and Echo). At an ultrasound this passed Wednesday it was revealed that neither of my little dominoes had heartbeats anymore, and likely hadn’t for a couple weeks.
While they never developed long enough for me and hubby to actually give them names, I am still grieving those two little munchkins and the life I envisioned having with them. I’m also riding the physically turbulent waves of a miscarriage and will be for at least a few days, so please be patient with me while I navigate my way through this ❤️
Once I’m out of the woods, I’ll return to our regular scheduled programming of gawking at sexy pixelated men. That is all. Love y’all, be safe.
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ramsay capturing Robb’s wife after the red wedding ? And maybe she’s still pregnant?
Ohh you're evil, anon.
TW: Murder + Induced Miscarriage.
I can see Ramsay doing this for sure.
Maybe Ramsay attented the red wedding and decided that you were far too pretty to be wasted like that. So why not take you with him?
Especially if Robb's last moments alive were spent in fear and terror as he watched Ramsay drag you away, promising to take good care of you.
I genuinly see Ramsay doing everything in his power to make sure that you lose the babe, either by beating you or by forcing moon tea down your throat.
Robb Stark is in the past and all traces of him should be erased till nothing is left from his legacy. Ramsay will not be gentle with you, he won't restrain himself from giving into his darkest fantasies when it comes to you.
You can scream, cry and beg all you want - but in the end, your destiny lays at Ramsay's hand.
#ask#dark ramsay bolton#dark ramsay bolton x reader#dark!ramsay bolton x reader#dark!ramsay bolton#tw: miscarriage#tw: abuse#tw: kidnapping
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Healing, WA style 💙
I’m recovering well physically. I’m staying out of the water on doctor’s orders, I’ve been taking all my meds, I’ve only needed painkillers twice. Sleep is a bit patchy, but I’m rested on the whole.
The guilt is there. Guilt that I’m taking joy from being in such a beautiful place, so soon after. Guilt when I’m ordering breakfast and I think, I can have runny poached eggs now. Guilt that it’s been so busy I didn’t even realize it’s one week today.
I’m slowly getting back to your very kind messages. Forgive me if I miss any. Thank you again for everyone who’s checking on me ❤️
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spark ( chapter two: prayer )
fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 )
rating: m
pairing: elvis presley ( fameless big daddy electrician/handyman ) x female original character
word count: 10570ish so just shy of 11k this time.
warnings: talk of children. a bit of negative self talk. infidelity in some form. elvis in glasses. religion playing an at least faintly important part. use of a washcloth in inventive ways. faint naivety regarding come and precome and pleasurable parts of sex, i suppose. fingering. implied/referenced masturbation ( m and f ). pining. talk of female reproductive issues.
author’s note: so before you read anything involving this. i need you all to either go into this chapter blind other than my note about female reproductive issues or i need you to scroll all the way down to the bottom of this past the tag list for a bit of an explanation for that warning. i'm fine either way but i didn't want to spoil it in the warnings considering i left what happened fairly nebulous.
all that being said hi y'all, welcome to the second chapter of spark! there is not a lot i can say other than telling you all i am so very thankful for every single one of you who read it and especially those of you who left comments in the notes or reblogged because hearing what feelings i invoked or what i did to y'all was a highlight and truly makes me want to interact with all of you more and makes me just want to hear more from all of you. this chapter and the next are a doozy but this one specifically has the nearly 6k bath scene as i've called it so you're in for a treat.
special thank you to my southern gothic/southern sticky romance soulmate @precious-little-scoundrel because y'all know this wouldn't exist without her little whispers. additional thanks to my discord wives @ab4eva and @butlersxbirdy, my princess and my peach y'all know how much hearing y'all scream about my snippets made me know i was heading in the right direction. @blurredcolour thank you for also reassuring me that the one bit i showed you worked and wasn't just completely a mess. and last but not least @powerofelvis and @prompted-wordsmith thank you both for the edit job and smitty specifically for a few choice lines. i still am never gonna not laugh about you trying to sneak weepy in there though. and now before this author's not gets much longer, i present the second chapter of spark, titled prayer.
It's so quiet in the room. It's too quiet in the kitchen. It's too quiet even as Lilly hears Elvis's deep breaths against her back, hears her own softer breaths mixed with something that sounds almost like a whimper—a soft cry of elation with every other breath and shift of her body against his. Her vagina—her pussy—oh, she doesn't know what to call it now—aches in a way she's never felt before, not even when her husband took her for the first time in their bed. It aches but it doesn't hurt, it burns but in the way her legs burned after she would go running with Melly or how her arms burned after lifting up a basket of Nathan's clothes. Her—what had Elvis called it?—her clit, her button throbs as she feels his soft cock brush up against it as he moves forward just a bit, causing a noise that sounds so obscene Lilly can't help the way her cheeks darken even as another noise leaves her. Another whimper, this time lower in pitch, a keen leaves her mouth as Elvis stills his attempt to separate them.
"Lilly, darlin' I gotta—you gotta let me let ya down. Ya leg's startin' to hurt, ain't it?" Elvis murmurs, his hand moving down her flank, watching how her body starts to shiver, their shared sweat starting to cool on her body as the fan–the fan he just fixed whirrs above them. "Don't… it's gonna start hurtin' the more we stay here, darlin'. Let—" His hand moves to her thigh, feels how it's so sticky and slick with God knows what fluid, his or hers or both, and he's not sure how he's going to take his hand off of her if it starts to stick. Her shivers are starting to strengthen, be it from nervousness or the cool air or a combination and Elvis can't help the way a singular one flows through him, causing him to tighten his hold on her thigh and bury his face against her shoulder, a groan leaving his lips as he feels her clench at it. "It's—come on, Lilly, I gotcha, let me help ya."
It's those words, that mild parroting of words he had just whispered against the shell of her ear not even 15 minutes ago that has her head falling forward just a little, has her body going lax completely, a rag doll for him to maneuver how he sees fit. She doesn't trust herself to help him, doesn't trust the thoughts in her head that tell her to make him keep her this way, to keep him inside of her and keep her filled and aching all at once. Doesn't trust the traitorous thought that tells her Nathan would have never done this, would never be this gentle and calming with her. She'd already be standing on shaky legs with him tucking himself in his pants before telling her that was good. Elvis's arm catches her, holds her tight against him still as he helps her pull her leg down off the counter even as she hears that noise again that—squelch of her arousal and the sheer amount of come he had released in her. If this is how he sounded inside of her, what would happen when he pulled out of her? What would happen as he left her stretched and satisfied? Would—perhaps some would take. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
"Lil." His whisper is gentle, almost as if he's scared she'll bolt. "You hold onto me. Gonna get outta ya now. Gonna pull out of ya."
Her arm and her hand grip his own tightly, her shivers increasing as she feels Elvis start to pull out. The more he inches out bit by bit the more empty she feels, the more she feels as if there's a wound there that won't heal caused by him leaving. It's never felt like this with Nathan and she knows, she knows so deep in her bones and soul that should worry her. But her mind, her body, her everything has narrowed down to her and Elvis as he finally breaks free of her vagina and she feels a wetness like she's never felt before slide down her legs. Unbidden and unrestrained, a sob is wrenched from her throat as she's set down, her feet finally touching the floor once more. A sudden shift back to reality she wasn't prepared for.
Elvis's arm tightens around her even as her shivers worsen and as he feels and hears the sob that comes from her. He doesn't think he hurt her—not physically, at least—but he can't… he can't check her like this. Not when he looks down at her legs and sees his release sliding down her leg.
A realization hits him in that exact moment as his arm tightens around where—where a child would grow if any of his release caught. Where their child would grow if it caught. He hadn't worn protection. He allowed himself to enter her bare and come not once, but twice. Right in this very moment he could be sealing both of their fates. Her to have the child of a man who is not her husband and him—him, to see another man raise his child. To see his child grow up through pictures instead of being there for every waking moment. His thoughts are interrupted by another of Lilly's sobs and he shakes his head. She–she needs a bath, he can't let Nathan come home and see her like this. Even if he had been neglecting her, leaving her to wilt and leaving her to be watered and in the worst of cases fertilized by another man, Elvis couldn't be sure of his reaction to seeing the proof leaking out of his wife.
The fan creaks as it spins, unused to spinning after the break it had been given from being broken. Elvis's brain settles on the noise even as the air circulating causes even his body to let out a shiver. His own natural heat feels like it isn't enough in this one moment, as if it's too busy trying to keep Lilly warm to remember to keep him fully warm and yet he thinks he can handle it. It's nothing compared to winter in France. Nothing compared to the bite of the cold against his skin then. And yet—and yet it cuts far more to the bone, through his muscles and fat and everything that should protect him. Straight to the heart of him.
His arm finally falls from around Lilly’s waist as she moves to stand on her own, her legs a little shaky like a newborn deer. He hastily tucks himself back into his jumpsuit—she can't see what he put inside her, can't see his uncut cock even if it brought her pleasure he wonders if she's never had before. When she finally looks at him he has to stop himself from pulling her into his arms to kiss her. She looks… she looks like an angel and he's corrupted her like a devil. He's touched something that might not have been pure and innocent but was as close as he’s seen in such a long time and sullied it. Touched it with hands that have seen war and have seen death and threatened to cause death even in peacetime. What sort of person did that, what sort of man who believes in God with all his being now would do this to another man’s wife? Breaking not one, but two sins, and for what? To try and fix something that it isn’t his place to fix, that will never be his place to fix? To try and fix something only to potentially cause more things to break inside and out. He hopes she doesn’t see how his hand clenches into a fist, hopes she doesn’t see how he can’t look her in the eye right at this moment. He hopes—he hopes—he hopes she can forgive him, he hopes God can forgive him.
Lilly can’t help the way her legs shake slightly and how her body trembles just a little bit. She’s not cold, not in a way that would cause this much shivering and yet here she was acting as if she had been dunked in a bath filled with cold water and shoved into a Yankee winter. Elvis was—is warm in a way she knows would help. Or at least she feels as if it would help because it would just be an extension of taking care of her, wouldn’t it? It would be him continuing the duty he’s given himself despite not… not being the man who promised to love and to hold and to take care of her in every conceivable way. He is just a man. He is just a man who she has grown quite fond of but a man nonetheless. A man who is not her husband and yet—no, this was just both of them being tempted and falling for temptation. In her mind, she thinks of never having Elvis speak to her again, thinks of a world where this act has ruined their relationship. No, their friendship, and she bites her lip to keep from crying out in anguish. He had been such good company. He is such good company and to lose that would have her all alone once again with nothing to show for it except… perhaps. Perhaps his release could catch inside her. Perhaps it could catch and form a child, their child and she would have someone to be with. She would have the child she longed for to spend her days doting on and mothering. She would have her company and she could be so much less angry—despondent over her friends and she could enjoy Melly’s pregnancy and any other ones that would come after because she’d at least have her own child. Too preoccupied with her thoughts, she nearly misses Elvis speaking to her and grabbing ahold of her hand.
“Lil darlin’, ya shakin’ like a leaf. Ya got a robe or somethin’ in that bedroom of yourn?” He asks all while walking them ever so slowly to the bathroom near the other bedroom. It has a bathtub, that much he knows from using it but he knows it’s likely not anything compared to the one in the main bathroom adjacent to her bedroom. Lilly can only nod as an answer. “Ya good to go grab it? Don’t wanna—it’s not my place to see ya bedroom.”
He’s right and she knows he is but a part of her, the part of her that’s clinging onto his hand for dear life and doesn’t trust her legs to carry her into the bedroom and back to him shakes her head. “I’m—I don’t—walk me to it?”
“Lilly,” he starts before he looks up and sees her face pleading with him, begging silently in almost the same way it was up against the sink and he stops himself before nodding. “Just keep holdin’ my hand. I’ll walk wit’ ya.”
Between the walls and Elvis’s hand, Lilly’s steps are a little more certain by the time she makes it to the doorway of her bedroom where just on the inside there’s a hook that has her robe. She creaks the door open just slightly to grab it before pulling it on. It smells faintly of Nathan’s cologne and she can’t help but crinkle her nose in distaste, wishing it smelt different. The walk over to the other bathroom is just as slow and just as measured but the moment they reach it, Elvis moves to set her on the toilet after shutting the lid. His knees crack audibly as he gets down on the floor with a groan. Lilly winces as she hears the water turn on. “Warmer than you think I should have it.”
He hadn’t asked what temperature she wanted the water but she figured it was best to tell him ahead of time, just in case he thought she needed it only lukewarm. His response is a chuckle before he turns the hot knob just a bit more.
Her mind wanders as she sits there feeling more of his release sticking to her leg. Her mind wanders as she looks at Elvis in his jumpsuit still half open but done up so she can’t see what was between his legs, what had given her such pleasure that her vagina clenches
involuntarily at the memory. Clenches at the memory of how full it felt, how it felt like it was catching, how it felt different than Nathan’s penis. Surely—oh surely with how full she feels even now with his release inside her it would take. It would catch and take and her belly would swell with new life. Her child would grow inside her and kick and roll and make her so happy even as she pushed them out, painful as everyone had told her it was. Her child would look like her if it was a daughter or perhaps a healthy mix of her and Elvis if it was a boy. Her breath catches at the image and she finds herself leaning against the toilet and clutching her hands to her stomach with her eyes shut. Her eyes shut so that the lord could hear her prayer because she’s only focusing on Him and the words she was praying up into the heavens. Please, Lord, please let it catch. Bless me with just this one baby.
Elvis looks over at Lilly over the rims of his glasses and is struck by how she looks so serene in the moment. How her robe covers her and how her head is tilted up as if she’s praying for something. His eyes drift down and notice her hands on her belly. Her hands that seem small compared to his on her belly and briefly, in a flash he berates himself for later, he pictures her growing round with his baby after the release he's just left in her has taken root. Pictures her blossoming and blooming right before his eyes as she thanks him with his favorite dinner with their child rolling inside of her under an apron. The word please leaves her lips, though, and it shatters that image quicker than anything else. She is married to an idiotic child, yes, but he is still her husband and is still a strapping young man. Perhaps still more suited for her than him. More suited to give her those children to help her bloom. He has to shut his eyes and pray for forgiveness and for God to dissolve his come before it reaches those parts of her that can bear fruit. She’s pleading with God that it doesn’t take—that they aren’t caught with their indiscretion and his mind is being selfish with the desires it has for her.
It doesn’t take long for the tub to fill and Elvis turns off the water before it gets to be too much. He can’t look at Lilly, hasn’t looked at her since he heard the word please fall from her lips and yet he knows he has to. He knows to help her into the bathtub he has to but he stares at the water, watching it ripple just a little until he hears Lilly’s voice.
“Are you—? You can… can you stay?” Her skin flushes at her own question, as if it’s the worst possible thing for her to say, as if it’s mortifying to have it leave her lips. He is not her husband. He is, at best, a new friend—and she wants him to see her completely bare. “You don’t—”
Elvis cuts off her words with a shake of his head. “I’ll stay for ya. Since ya want me to.” He pauses, his eyes finally looking at her: specifically looking at her legs where his release is still sliding down onto the floor of the bathroom. Had he honestly come that much? “Ya—e need to—I came in ya, Mrs. H—Lilly. It’s gonna need to be washed outta ya,” his hand twitches as his eyes drift to her stomach and he has to stop himself from placing his hand on it with his next words. “Don’t want ya bein’... Don’t wanna cause ya any issues.”
Don’t want to have my child growin’ inside of ya, is what he means, Lilly thinks. Her traitorous mind wants to be that mean woman Nathan’s accused of her of being and spit that she wants to swell with his baby. She wants to grow round with his baby because she wants a baby and Nathan won’t give her one. She wants a child to love and dote on and to cherish. She bites her tongue though, because it’s not right to say it, it’s not proper to admit she might do anything for a baby. Instead she nods and moves to take off the robe, motioning for Elvis to help her with the rest of her clothes as she stands up. Ever the gentleman, he obliges, and Lilly can’t help the goosebumps and shivers that dot her in his hands’ wake as his fingertips glide across her skin. Her body hunches over just slightly to protect her modesty as if he hadn’t just had her against her kitchen sink not once, but twice. Elvis frowns slightly when he sees this, the frown only deepening as she moves to step into the tub on her own. It doesn’t take him but a second to scoop her into his arms.
Lilly squeaks slightly at the unexpected touch before she leans against him, her hand moving to play with his chest hair until he sets her down softly into the tub. A whine escapes her lips as her vagina hits the water, the temperature difference reminding her of their actions. A moment passes before Elvis opens his mouth to ask something and Lilly tilts her head to the cabinet above the toilet. “Middle shelf.”
A nod is his only response to her direction until she hears the crack of his knees signaling how he’s back down on the ground. Her eyes haven’t left the water, watching how there’s little bits of white, stringy and almost clear swirling around the water. It was all going to waste. It was all going to be going down the drain and she was going to remain barren, a woman with no fruit of her loins to call her own when there should be no reason for that. Elvis eyes her before setting the washcloth in the water and humming, his hand moving to touch her shoulder, a strangely domestic touch that she doesn’t shy away from.
“There’s so much of it.” Lilly whispers absentmindedly, her head tilting just so as Elvis hums and chuckles slightly because she’s not wrong.
“It’s just—that’s my—that’s what I produce before I actually release inside ya. Hell, I think most of it might be that ‘cause I ain’t ever produced this much.” A truth if he’s honest with himself, even in his younger days he doesn’t remember this much being in a condom and yet he had filled her with so much it’s just leaking out of her. He had filled her like he was her husband and they were trying for a child. He had done the unthinkable and yet there’s a small part of him that wonders how much of his release is inside of her. That small part has his cock twitching just slightly against his leg, ready to give her more if she asks, to fill her up and replace what’s being lost in the water. He shakes his head to clear it, to direct the blood flow back to his thinking self and not the desirous snake in his pants.
“This ain’t the part we gotta worry ‘bout anyway. It’s the thicker stuff,” he points to a small bit that’s floating from her vagina as he speaks, “like that right there that we gotta worry ‘bout. But the rest? Ya see how it's slidin’ right out? We don't gotta worry bout those parts.”
Lilly has to stop herself from perking up at that knowledge. That there’s more where this came from and that this? She can lose as much of this as she is right now while still perhaps having his seed catch. This was just the initial bit, the majority of it is still inside of her and she clenches, tightens her vagina even as it feels to be an insurmountable task as it throbs and pulses from the effort. She can't tilt her hips up like her mother had told her but later, perhaps, later she could lay in bed and tilt her hips to help whatever is left behind reach where it needs to be.
Elvis can't put it off any longer as he stares at rippling water, he needs to help this along, other than those small bits not much of his release is coloring the water. If too much stayed within her—her body would change soon, her body would change and it would be all his fault. He would be responsible for her blooming and blossoming but with a child that wouldn't be, couldn't be taken care of the way he'd want them to. He leans closer to Lilly and finds his hand holding the washcloth sliding up her leg.
"Don't—I gotcha Lilly. Gonna help clean ya out, alright? Gonna be as gentle as I can." He waits to see her acknowledgement of a nod before he finally moves his hand up to between her legs, the heel of his hand against her mound and his hand covering everything else.
Her body—her vagina feels as if he's shocked her, as if there's a live wire from his hand to her. A gasp leaves her lips even as she inadvertently grinds down on his hand, chasing a feeling she can't quite put her finger on. It’s almost instinctual the way she reacts, the way her eyes shut as she hisses, the pressure too much while at the same time too little. At her hiss Elvis pulls back his hand as if it’s been burned. It’s not his job to take care of her, it’s not his job to make sure she’s alright after their intercourse against the sink and yet he doesn’t think he could live with himself if he hurt her. He knows how to take care of a woman after sex and he’d be damned if he didn’t treat Lilly with all the respect—and love, his mind traitorously whispers—she deserves.
“Lil, ya alright? Did I…” he starts before his words are cut off with a violent shake of her head. Words are failing her and his eyes search her face for a clue as if that will explain her actions and finds it in the way she shifts in the bath slightly. “Ya sensitive down there?”
Lilly nods and breathes slowly through her nose. “I think so? It’s—It feels like it’s throbbing, Mr. Pre—Elvis.”
In the back of his mind he knows that means she took him well and that he pleasured her thoroughly. It means that her body is overwhelmed with the sensation. It means that it’ll be like that for days to come. A small, sick bit of joy shoots through him at the thought of her aching for him and his stomach roils as soon as the thought comes to him. He would be no better than her husband who ignores her if he took pleasure in the idea. If he took pleasure in knowing he left her aching for him while she is married to her husband.
His words are measured when he speaks, a low murmur as he leans closer, taking the washcloth back in his hands. “Ya ain’t—I’m a lil bigger than most, should have prepped ya better. Jus’. We both got a lil’ overwhelmed, didn’t we? ‘S’alright, ‘m gonna make it better, darlin’. Gonna be gentle as I can. Gonna help ya get all this out of ya. Keep ya from having my baby.”
Lilly’s face falls at his words even though he doesn’t notice, too preoccupied with shifting his focus downward to her vagina. Her breath is slow and measured as she watches him, trying to give this a clinical air, trying to make her body realize there’s nothing arousing about this. This is him just trying to clean his release out of her to keep from being tied to her in some way permanent. Her hand drifts to her belly as she curls into him, her head leaning onto his shoulder. He’s methodical with the outside of her and using the cloth he tries to reach between her folds, tries to open her up only to feel as she tenses just that little bit harder. Forcing her open isn’t an option, not one he wants to seriously consider, at least, and he pauses. His fingers through the rough washcloth threaten to ignite another fire low in her belly as they rub slightly against her skin—at least, if the way she whimpers softly is any indication. Perhaps if he brushed against her clit, perhaps that could open her up. It’s helped in other times when he’s wanted to pleasure another woman. His thumb is already near it and without dwelling on his thought his thumb swipes against it, the wash cloth adding friction that has her unclenching faster than he thought was possible, the shock of it ricocheting through her system. A gasp escapes her lips. A gasp that sounds like his name. He refuses to dwell on what that means as he brushes his thumb against her clit once more.
“Elvis,” she whimpers his name as his thumb swipes a third and a fourth time and she can feel her vagina clenching and unclenching at the feeling, at the sensation as finally she relaxes fully, allowing his fingers to enter her without a question. “Sensitive.”
Her mind is narrowing to single words, the swirl of arousal curling tighter and tighter in her abdomen with each brush of his thumb and each press of his fingers inside of her. The washcloth shouldn’t help the feeling, it shouldn’t make her eyes want to roll in the back of her head from the friction and the slight roughness. The splashes of his arm and hand hitting the water as his fingers move in and out of her ground her and yet have her floating away. Her brain registers him speaking through her whimpers of pleasure. Pleasure that she doesn’t know what to—to do with, having been denied it for so long.
“I know it’s a lot but gotta be thorough, Lilly. Gotta make sure it's all out,” he whispers softly to her, his fingers never stopping their task. “That's it, unclench for me, Lil darlin. Let—ya gotta help me, we gotta make sure there isn't anything left up there."
Faintly she can hear him and feel herself nodding, too busy trying not to rock against his fingers. That’s not what he’s doing this for, he’s trying to prevent—he’s trying to prevent a child. He’s trying to protect her marriage and yet her body wants to move on instinct. She wants to be beholden to her instincts just this once. Just this once she wants to have pleasure and happiness she doesn’t have to beg and plead for. It’s nice, this haze that overwhelms her senses, and she can’t truly recall the cold, distant figure of her husband leaving each and every day for work without so much as a kiss on the cheek as it has been recently. Instead she is nestled into the crook of Mr. Presley’s neck, lips tasting of the salt of his sweat. She wants to feel like he made her feel against the sink. Her body cants itself just so in order to earn another swipe of his thumb and she feels herself dangling on the precipice of something—of her orgasm, maybe? Was she about to find release on his fingers as he cleaned her body out with a washcloth? As he cleaned his release so a child didn’t form inside her, giving away their actions from tonight? A miniscule part of her feels as if she ought to be mortified but it doesn’t drown out her sighs and whines as she feels his fingers curl just so—trying to make sure she’s clean. It doesn’t drown out how her hips move once in another attempt to grind before he puts his hand on the back of her neck. A comforting gesture, yes, but when paired with his next words seals her fate.
“Take what ya need right now. Jus' takin’ care of ya. It’ll help get more outta ya. That’s it, Lil darlin, Elvis’s gotcha.”
A keen, high pitched and pained, leaves her mouth as she feels herself fluttering around—no, clenching around—his fingers before becoming practically boneless against him, the aftershocks from the orgasm causing a new round of shivers and goosebumps to happen. Her face burrows into his shoulder as he works her through them gently before her hand moves to grab his wrist, the sensitivity finally becoming too much.
“Elvis it’s, o-oh—” Lily struggles to articulate her words and breathe and exist in this moment, the sensation drowning out any thoughts other than the pulse of her own heartbeat she feels between her legs. “It—”
Elvis shushes her, trying his hand on her neck, rubbing it and tightening over and over as he finishes cleaning her out, knowing that whatever is left is too high up for him to reach. He’d have to just pray to god for that to be done away with. "Shhhh, Lilly… Darlin', I'm sorry, bein' as gentle as I can.”
Lilly should object to how his hand at her neck feels almost as if she's a kitten being dragged along by their mother but she can't find it in her to do such a thing. She can't find it in her to since objecting would mean he'd remove something that truthfully is keeping her tenuous grip on reality and the Earth there. She figures she'd float away without it. There's a part of her that doesn't think she'd mind in that moment, that she'd understand floating away after what's happened because it almost doesn't feel real, especially as he takes care to wash her body despite her being fully capable of doing it herself. His grip loosens for the last time as she watches him lean over and unplug the drain. The water swirls slowly at first, gaining speed the longer she stares at it and the more of his release slides down the drain. She hears the crack of Elvis's knees as he stands up and winces for him even as his shadow towers over her. She should get up out of the tub, she knows this and yet her legs feel just shaky enough that she finds the task impossible until she feels his arms underneath hers.
Getting out with his support allows her to fully catch her bearings as he hands her a towel that she wraps around her body, drying herself off as he grabs another and assists with her legs, his knees cracking once again at him getting back down. She makes the mistake of looking down at him and seeing him look up at her with a surprising sense of worship she only ever usually associates with church and God. A shiver makes its way through her at the realization.
Her voice sounds like it's going through a tunnel as she says something about how she's fine from here. She swears she hears herself say Mr. Presley and hears him say Mrs. Harris like he hadn't seen her naked and like he hadn't just helped her to clean out his release. Their formalities would make her laugh in any other situation, especially if she thinks of his seed catching inside of her. It wouldn't do to call her that when she was carrying his child, now would it? Wouldn't do for her to call him that as her belly rounded out with his baby, would it? Would it?
He leaves and she waits until she hears a goodbye burst forth loud enough to break through the tunnel her ears are in to finish drying off and getting ready.
She barely finishes making dinner as Nathan walks through the door.
Elvis… Elvis finds himself under his shower cursing his actions even as he remembers her face and her pleasure. He dreams of a life. He dreams of a life with her. He dreams of their life together. It feels worse than any nightmare.
Charlie notices something is up the moment he walks in the diner and sees Elvis already sitting down at their table, a plate with just bacon in front of him in addition to eggs and what looks like toast, or at least he hopes it’s toast. It looks like a plate for him and Elvis and yet he sees the man he's willing to call one of his truest friends eating it all as if it's just for him. He ought to be gentle about the whole thing, ask Elvis a question calmly and innocently.
Instead, as any sensible friend who’s seen you naked and bleeding and cryin’ for your mama does, he steals two pieces of bacon and sits down in the chair across from his best friend and chomps on said bacon before asking one, singular question: "What are you doing?"
Elvis's hand darts out with a speed that betrays his army training to grab the other piece of bacon only to be rebuffed with a frown. "Eating bacon, Charlie. Ya suddenly blind now? Short and blind, what a catch for ya wife."
Charlie visibly recoils and waits for Elvis to apologize or give him some clue that the statement was just his normal, playful ribbing. The crunch of the bacon disabuses him of that notion as the minutes tick by. "We got a family so she must've seen something in me. Just thankful she didn't see you first."
"Ain't that everyone's damn thanks. Thankful I didn't see their wives back then but if I see 'em now they ain't gotta worry. Women don't go for this body like they did back in the day." Elvis stabs at his eggs and Charlie—Charlie thinks he knows what's going on and he can't help but roll his eyes internally.
"Did some woman turn you down and now you're moping? Over a plate of bacon after church?" He tries to keep the judgment out of his voice but there's still a hint there that he can't do away with.
If looks could kill as well as every gun both he and Elvis have ever used, Charlie's certain in this moment he would be preparing to go to sleep in his eternal resting place. As it stands he once again realizes that perhaps he ought to not poke his absolute bear of a best friend. Elvis's next words punctuated by another crunch of bacon and a laugh so bitter Charlie's never heard it come from him seals that idea.
"Oh. Charlie, my boy, my boy, that would have been better. I would have handled that like a champ," he shakes his head, "ya 'member Mrs. Harris? The—the woman I told ya 'bout?"
“Yeah, the one with the niece and the husband who can’t work his way ‘round a wrench. What about—?” Charlie stops mid sentence and stares long and hard at Elvis trying to school his face into something normal and something less like he looks about ready to murder him before realizing it’s impossible and saying the first words that come to mind in the most hushed tone he can manage. “Wasn’t one of your rules you wouldn’t sleep with a married woman?”
Elvis can’t help but curse the fact that Charlie has seen him through some of, if not the worst, parts of his life and can regrettably read him like an open book sometimes. He doesn’t answer with words. Instead he allows himself to eat a piece of toast that is both soggy and crispy all at once. His silence is practically deafening before Charlie exhales.
“You—ou got me thinking your daddy died or something and all this is because you slept with another man’s wife? A man who’s practically ignoring her despite how she looks like a—” Elvis swallows and holds up his pointer finger before practically growling.
“Not other fuckin’ word, Hodge. Not a single fuckin’ word. Lilly ain’t some fuckin’ European floozy we forgot ‘bout the next day. Don’t ya say ‘nother fuckin’ word.”
A chuckle leaves Charlie’s mouth despite his best efforts to stop it. Elvis is moping about a woman alright, just not the way Charlie thought he was. He wouldn’t have—He loves Elvis, he does but he would have never predicted him managing to charm a woman like that if she didn’t know who he was beforehand. If she didn’t know him as he was when they both came back from the war, both struggling with things they had seen yet pared down to a lean type of beauty: the scraggly pines that grew on Italian mountaintops. Yet maybe, just maybe, there was hope. Very stupid and unwise hope, but hope nonetheless that Elvis might be able to enjoy the same sort of life he has.
"Cursing on the Lord's day. At me. She's got you—pass me your whole pig's worth of bacon and tell me what happened, E."
Elvis stares at the plate and lets out a heavy sigh as he scoots the plate over. “It ain’t a whole pig’s worth of bacon.”
“It’s as big as my head.” Charlie states, motioning to get the attention of one of the waitresses in an attempt to get a plate and different food even as he eats a piece of bacon.
“Ya have a tiny head, Hodge. Like a damn lil hedgehog.”
Meanwhile across town Lilly finds herself in her sister’s kitchen, sitting at her dining room table with the light of the sun shining on her through the window. Her sister Melly busies herself with the finishing touches of a lunch for the two of them and Jerry. Lilly had tried to help only to be waved off with an ease that had her sitting down in the chair watching, her hands settling on her stomach as they had been since that fateful afternoon. It’s too soon to know, she reasons, too soon to know if Elvis’s seed took and has filled her empty womb with a child she’s craved for years. Yet her hands gravitate there anyway, almost trying to provide a cradle as if to tell the child she hopes is forming inside her that it’s okay to stay, it’s alright and that she’ll be their mother. She’ll take such good care of them and they’ll get to meet their cousins. They’ll get to meet their cousins and grow up with the one swelling underneath Melly’s apron.
Melly notices this, of course, notices how her sister is cradling her belly and yet she doesn’t dare ask. She doesn’t dare ask if Nathan’s finally done right by her sister and given her the baby she so desperately wants. Her chest hasn’t changed and she hasn’t felt a firmness when she’s brushed against her but perhaps it’s just too early.
“You’re looking happier,” Melly comments as she sets down the plates of food. She leaves Jerry’s on the counter, knowing her husband will grab it when he comes back inside from dealing with the yard.
Lilly can’t help the way she smiles slightly and practically preens at the acknowledgment that she seems happier. Elvis might not be—Elvis might not have been by since that afternoon but there was something so beautiful about his actions, so gentle and nourishing about him that it stuck with her. The throbbing in her vagina’s finally stopped after days of her cupping it and playing with it next to Nathan’s snoring body, wishing her fingers were thicker and longer and wishing it was Elvis’s cock sliding in and out of her. That he was keeping her full and telling her he’s got her, he’s always got her while filling her with so much of his release that there’d be no other choice but to swell with his child.
She doesn’t dwell on the fact that it’s taken another man to make her feel a way she hasn't for years. She can’t dwell on that because it’s improper and she’d like to just bask in the glow of everything for now. She’d like to bask in the glow of things before a different glow would overtake her.
“I feel happier.” Lilly answers, still continuing to grin as she digs into the food. There’s a hint of nausea at some of it but she chalks it up to being hungry. “I feel different.”
Melly’s eyebrows both move upward as she settles into her chair and takes a bite of her toast first, knowing how her stomach reacts to food without a bland base to start off with. “Different. Does that have anything to do with Nathan and you? Anything you want to tell me?”
Lilly’s hand stills in its subconscious rubbing as her eyes widen. “No. Not—not yet.”
There’s something that shifts in Melly, a brightness that shines through as she looks at Lilly. If she is pregnant it's too soon to tell but the idea that she'd be carrying her second while Lilly is finally carrying her first delights her in ways she can't put into words. It's perhaps a secret dream she's always had. The scrape of her chair against the linoleum is harsh to both their ears and yet it’s a small price to pay for the feel of Melly’s hand against her stomach.
“You’ll tell me as soon as you know?” Melly’s voice comes out as a whisper, as if she’s scared to speak it any louder. “You’ll tell me I’ll have a niece or nephew on the way?”
Lilly nods quickly as she hears the door open and hears Jerry’s voice carry into the kitchen. Melly’s hand moves off of her stomach as quick as can be before Jerry pops his head in and smiles. “Won’t ask what you two were doing before I got here.”
Life doesn't stop that Sunday and instead continues on and on with one week passing by and then another and another until Lilly knows she's due for her cycle and yet it doesn't appear. Her underwear remains pristine and white with not a drop of blood in sight. She doesn't dare tell Melly or anyone yet, knowing it could be a fluke, a stress induced issue but she swears she feels her womb hardening. She swears she feels it bloating in a way that feels different than what comes before her cycle. Perhaps, perhaps Elvis had done it. Perhaps Elvis had filled her and their child was forming unbeknownst to either of them. It occurs to her that she should try and reach out to him and see if he can come by her home. There's nothing that's broken for him to be fixed and yet he deserves to know what's happening inside her. That soon her stomach will round outward and their child will kick and roll and grow inside of her. That she is still married but it would be cruel to deprive him of ever knowing of their child.
It's too soon for him to know, she'll tell him when she's sure, when there's no mistaking what has happened to her because of their actions that afternoon. She'll tell him then, she'll convince him to come by and press his hand against her stomach so he can feel what he's—what she wished and prayed to have happen even as he washed himself out of her. He ought to be able to be in their life somehow because he's their father and he'd make such a brilliant one. He'd make such a brilliant one and her mind traitorously tells her it's a shame she wouldn't be raising the child with him.
Six weeks is a long time for him to be avoiding Lilly and he knows that. He knows that she didn't deserve to be left out in the cold like that—to be left without company and companionship like that but he can't help it. He can't help how his mind drifts when his exhaustion sets in remembering how her body felt against his when they danced and when she sagged against him. It’s a sin to covet a man’s wife as much as he covets Lilly. It’s a sin to want to be in another man’s home taking care of his wife in any way she’ll let him. It’s a sin and yet it feels so right, it feels like he’d be doing what he’s meant to be doing. Elvis is not her husband and yet his mind—his traitorous mind and soul tells him he should be and tells him she needs him in some way. She’s been happier, he thinks, since that afternoon—and his mind tells him that he had something to do with that. There’s a glow about her and it draws him in like a moth to a flame before he pulls himself away every Sunday when she passes off her niece. A nagging thought crosses his mind as the weeks go by and he swears that glow is stronger every time he sees her, that perhaps it wasn’t just happiness and joy causing her to glow that way. He ought to ask her and yet the idea feels invasive in a way that makes him think he has to find the right time for it. If his suspicions prove to be correct, he figures they both will need time to process it.
Six weeks is a long time for him to avoid her and it makes it so that when he gets a call that sounds like Lilly crying there isn’t a moment of hesitation before he finds himself jumping into his truck and driving to her house she shares with her husband. Her door is unlocked and he wants to admonish her for it, tell her that she shouldn’t leave the door unlocked because you never know who might come in but then he sees her. He sees her tear stained face and her rumpled dress and fears the worst. A flash of pure anger courses through his veins as his mind swirls with possibilities of why she’s crying. Why her face and body betray such anguish that it twists his gut and has his mouth opening to speak before her voice sounding so small in a way he’s never heard interrupts him.
“I was waiting. I was being careful!” Her words don’t make sense to Elvis even as his eyes trace over her form and around the house where they’re standing as if either thing holds the clue for what’s going on. As if some part of the way she’s carrying herself—hunched over—or the way things seem out of place—her lunch was sitting on the table only half eaten—would explain what’s happening, why she had called him crying, muttering about needing to fix things.
His tone is soft and comforting as he moves to touch her shoulder, to pull her into some form of a hug. “Darlin’—” The word slips out before he can stop himself but he continues. “What’s… what’s wrong?”
Her eyes look up at him and he’s struck by how bloodshot they look. How long had she been crying? How long had her body been wracked by sobs that no one was there to comfort her from? Elvis watches as her mouth opens and closes several times before she shakes her head. “I—the oven is broke again.”
“Lil—Mrs. Harris, things I fix don’t break like that. Not this quick.” He tries to defend his work, knowing there’s no Earthly way that it was broken already. He had made sure to fix it, he had made sure that her oven wouldn’t need his touch for quite a long time after he was inside of it that day. In the back of his mind he thinks he’s missing something.
“It’s broken, Mr. Presley. It’s broken and can’t keep heat and bake anything and I’ll call someone else over if you won’t fix it. Just please take a look at it. Just make it work like I thought it was.” Lilly’s voice shakes but doesn’t waver when she speaks. If anything it seems to get stronger the longer she speaks. It seems she’s more insistent with every word that comes from her mouth. Something is broken—the oven he was supposed to fix is broken and she wants him to check it again. That nagging feeling grows as he looks at her in confusion. He prides himself on being a smart enough man, but… maybe it’s because she clouds his judgment. He can’t tell what she’s talking about.
“Lil—Lilly, why did you call me here?” He manages to almost stutter out the words, wincing he hears it. She has to answer him when he asks point blank, doesn’t she?
Lilly is silent for the longest while and Elvis thinks he pushed too hard, thinks that he’s overstepped for once—twice—in their friendship and opens his mouth to apologize before she grabs his hand and places it on her stomach. In a rush everything clicks into place for Elvis and swears his heart stops. He should move his hand and yet he can’t, it’s almost as if there’s a magnet keeping his hand attached to her stomach. The oven is broken, her oven is broken and empty and can’t keep heat.
The night before, when his body gave out and had him sleep he tossed and turned over images of him and Lilly together. Images of her swollen with a child and laughing next to him. He remembers being on his knees kissing her still-flat stomach and laughing with her hand over his and telling her how she’s made him the happiest man alive. He could still hear her giggles ringing in his ears when he woke up. That was fantasy, a dream dreamed up by an old man who shouldn’t be dreaming of a life with a woman he isn’t married to and who is married to another. They’re brilliant company for each other but—but she is not his wife and he is not her husband.
“I’m sorry.” Elvis whispers the words and they feel so insubstantial, so insignificant to what he feels in this moment. The sorrow he feels for her being fed by her tears and the way her silence just drags on and on. Perhaps this was his doing, perhaps there was something there and he had broken it. Perhaps—perhaps he should have been selfish and not cleaned his release from her. Or perhaps—he can’t dwell on it. It threatens to drive him mad if he does.
And yet his mind can't shake another time and place where his hand is there for another reason, with her hand over his, a smile on her face instead of tears rolling down her cheeks and onto his suit as she curls into a hug he offers. She looks so young and yet like she's been crushed by the world all at once. A flower run over on the side of the road, soaked in the gutter. The attempt he finally makes to move his hand is thwarted by her own grasping his wrist, forcing him to press down to feel that she's bloated but still very empty.
It was supposed to be different. Things were supposed to go well, she had prayed and begged and cradled her womb and for what? For her cycle to be off and there to be blood mocking her in her underwear? For there to be cramping that feels like it might threaten to tear her in two. No one she’s known has lost a baby, there’s no one she can ask to see if that’s what’s happening. If the child she swore was growing from the moment Elvis released inside of her not once but twice was gone. Or if there just wasn’t one at all and she had been deluding herself. Either option feels almost unbearable and feels like a lead weight in her stomach.
Elvis doesn’t speak and Lilly’s thankful for it. Her dream of telling him and them figuring out how he would be involved has been flushed down the toilet multiple times today and is currently flowing between her legs. Her hand finally loosens its grip on his wrist and her chest tightens as she looks into his eyes. Those blue eyes shouldn’t be so caring, they shouldn’t look so caring when looking at her. There shouldn’t be sympathy in those eyes directed toward her or her empty womb. Yet there is and Lilly is struck not for the first time at how different Elvis is from Nathan. She’s struck by how she’s been in this sort of position before with her husband and she doesn’t recall there being nearly as much care and—dare she even pretend?—-anguish in his gaze. She remembers frustration at himself or, or her? She doesn’t know. She can’t recall just now.
“I—I was late,” She starts, and shakes her head, sniffling. “I was late for my cycle and I didn’t—I don’t know why I called you.”
Elvis doesn’t dare say the first thoughts that come to mind. Doesn’t dare tell her that he thinks she knows exactly why she called him because the mere idea shouldn’t be put into words. He’s already damned himself and her anguish, her pain is perhaps a consequence of it. Had he not given in to his baser urges perhaps Nathan would have given her a child that she could tell him she was growing inside of her. If he hadn’t given into his baser urges she wouldn’t have thought his child was growing inside of her. He shuts his eyes, trying to not think of the image of her swollen with his child once again.
“Comfort?” The word as an answer feels safe and from the look on Lilly’s face, how it relaxes just a little bit and how her hunched over position straightens out even as she grimaces in pain he was right. However, that urge to fix that had caused so many problems rears its ugly head again and Elvis knows he should ignore it but the grimace on her face reminds him that she’s in pain and to leave her in pain without attempting to help her feels cruel. It feels cruel to just allow her to deal with this on her own. Perhaps that’s why she had called him, taken the chance that he wouldn’t want her to be alone in this situation. Taken the chance to assume he missed her and just wants what he's craved from her more than anything else: her company.
A nod is the only thing she manages before her body is wracked with another flare of pain as Elvis watches. He’s never—he’s never been here when she’s on her cycle so he doesn’t know if this is normal or not but he remembers June and remembers the other girls and knows, in this moment, he can’t leave her like this. Especially after she had called him. His mind tries to think back on what other women would do before he remembers how some would curl up in bed and ask for heat and any number of other things. The flash of memory at her in the bath after their activities and a flash of a fantasy of her in the bath with him runs through his thoughts until he shakes his head to clear it.
“Missus—Lilly. Darlin’, I—wouldn’t it be better to be laying down? For your pain?” His words are chosen as carefully as he can and yet he still feels like he might have said the wrong thing until he sees her move to lean and sag against him as if he’s the only thing that’s going to keep her standing in this exact moment.
“My—oh, just help me to my bedroom, you don’t—” The words are lost as Elvis picks her up, earning a bit of a shocked gasp from her. “You don’t have to pick me up, I can w-walk.”
Elvis stays silent for a moment or so as he walks, ignoring the ache in his knees that tell him he should have prepared more for this. That he should have known better than to pick Lilly up like this and yet he finds that it’s easy to ignore the ache as her protest grows a little quieter and she practically burrows into his hold. He is not her husband and yet he wonders if her husband’s ever done this for her. Ever treated her with care when she’s like this.
Nathan had noticed her pain that morning and brushed it off, much to Lilly’s frustration. It’s not that she wanted him to know she had engaged in a transgression but she was his wife and she was in pain. Jerry had made sure Melly was taken care of after Lizzie and Nathan couldn’t even be bothered to call her sister or anyone. The neglect is what feels like an even worse knife than the one she swears she feels in her lower stomach. The neglect is why she called Mr—Elvis. Even in the short time she’s at least partially known him—the actual him, not the image she had of the man who taught her niece’s Sunday school—has taken care of her and hasn’t left her to rot and wallow in her pain and loneliness. He’s kept her company and fixed so many things around her house that at this point she’s thinking she’s going to have to break things just to have an excuse to get him to visit under the guise of working.
She knows she shouldn’t relax in his hold, she shouldn’t burrow into his arms like he’s her husband and he’s just carrying her to their bed but she can’t help it, the sheer joy and calmness that settles over her from the care he shows overwhelming her. His arms allow her to feel safe in the moment, help her to forget how much pain she’s in physically and mentally. They are a balm to her aches even as she potentially causes some for him. It doesn’t take too long for him to reach her bedroom, using his body to open the door the entire way from its cracked open position. Lilly hears him sigh and feels his head move to try and avoid looking around before she feels him shift her in his arms.There’s a difference, she thinks, in knowing that he would have to eventually set her down on her bed and him actually doing it.
A shiver runs through her body that has Elvis’s grip tightening as he moves his hands away. It’s not cold and yet here she was shivering like she was that fateful night.
“You alright?” he murmurs, low and questioning in a way that he shouldn’t be.
“You’re warm,” she whispers back at him, looking into his eyes and trying to pretend that answers everything. Pretend that telling him he’s warm will get him to stay and comfort her until it’s time for Nathan, cold, icily indifferent Nathan to be home. “I feel—it felt good.”
Elvis opens his mouth to speak before his breath catches in his throat at the sheer intensity of the look she’s giving him. He can’t put a name to what he sees in her eyes, only that it threatens to overwhelm him if he stares at her for too much longer. He has to leave, he needs to go back to work or home or just somewhere where her eyes aren’t burning holes into his soul. He finally starts to step away only for Lilly’s arm to find its way in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. Her hand moves to grab his and grasps it so tightly he can’t wrench it from her.
“Can you—can you stay?” She asks, quiet as a church mouse and looking as if she expects him to say no. As if she expects to be left alone to deal with things once again. It makes his stomach roil and twist and he feels almost like throwing up before he moves to sit down on the bed.
“Not for too long, Lilly,” he answers, as he watches her move to the other side of the bed, letting go of his hand as she does. He sits down, groaning slightly as he does at the feel of her bed underneath him. It dips more than it did when she was occupying the same spot, his weight causing the springs to creak just a bit more. Lilly waits until he gets comfortable to move closer to him. He stays sitting, his body leaning against the headboard, not even daring to try and lay down in her marriage bed. It makes trying to cuddle with him harder than it should be but after a moment of a deliberation she settles on laying her head in his lap. The warmth of his belly seeps into her head, soothing any headache she’s gained from crying and the vantage point allows her to feel encased in what feels like a protective shell. Elvis tries to keep his hands to himself but as he feels Lilly settle against him and sees every wince and shift his hands move to her hair, running his fingers through it. Scratching ever so softly against her scalp. Lilly’s sigh tells him it was the right thing to do and emboldens him to sing, breathe out into the world the first song that comes to mind when he thinks of her.
Lilly hears Elvis’s voice singing Jo Stafford to her, a song she’s only heard once or twice before but it feels so romantic that something inside her chest feels warm and feels almost like it’s blossoming the more she hears his voice singing in that low tone, his hands flowing through her hair.
“But just remember, darling, all the while, you belong to me,” he sings, watching as Lilly’s eyes start to flutter shut, the pain and the emotions of today getting the best of her. The more he sings the more he realizes he wishes those words were true. The more he wishes he wouldn’t have to leave in a few hours. But she is not his wife and he is not her husband and he’ll leave in a few hours as he should. He’ll leave after he shakes her awake lightly, grimacing as she winces in pain and as her eyes practically beg him to stay once again. He'll leave watching her curl back into her sheets but won't see her head move to where he had been sitting or see her hands grab at the pillow that had been behind his back.
She will wake up alone right before Nathan comes home. She will wake up to a simple dinner made with two plates on the table.
She calls him back over the next day.
taglist: @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @be-my-ally, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted, @marriedtopresley, @memphis-menace, @steph-speaks, @coolgirl462, @vintageshanny, @memphisflash1935-1977, @j-v-9-2, @sexystarfish, @duhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, @jessicarcates, @chirssycrumble9456789, @shantellescrivener, @yomammalolha, @honey6578, @urmom11111111111119, @myradiaz, @elvispresleyxoxo, @tryingtogettoelvis, @joegramoe, @rainblue-art, @fav-fanficssss, @moodyblueriver, @misspresley, @fallinlovewithurlove, @ash-omalley, @yynneessmons good heavens, i think that's everyone. those of you who didn't get the tag, know i'm gonna head to the messages within the day. also i including those of you who reblogged the first chapter. i would have done likes as well but there- there was a hefty chunk and i didn't know for sure if you all wanted to be tagged.
additional explanation: so if you haven't just read the fic instead of just scrolling down to the bottom to see what's up, hello. but even if you did just read the fic, let the record show that i myself did write this with the idea that lilly had a very early miscarriage. and it's why i added a tag just in case for it since i know some people avoid the subject matter for their own mental health. however i purposefully left it nebulous because she herself wouldn't know for sure and it's- the same result occurs either way, she is not pregnant and that wrecks her emotionally because she had put so much stock in the possibility that she would be. no matter what if she wasn't pregnant she was going to be sad and depressed and generally in a state of anguish. so, you can read this whichever way you want, it does not really change the intent/what happens afterward in this. but i didn't want to directly spoil all of you in the warnings especially since it causes a turning point of sorts, but i also don't want anyone to be in duress because of me. also i promise honestly these two have a happy ending, just trust me like y'all trusted me with professor presley, okay?
#elvis presley#elvis presley fanfic#elvis presley x oc#big daddy elvis#big daddy and lil darlin'#elvis x lilly#elvis presley fanfiction#elvis presley smut#elvis fanfic#elvis fanfiction#spark universe#elvis x reader#crawfever adjacent#elvis#ally writes#tw: miscarriage
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I asked for a sad prompt, and MAN, did you deliver, @bitterbunny07!
I'm definitely still working through some writers block, but it felt so good to get this done within a couple of hours.
So, yeah, obvious trigger warning: mentions of miscarriage. Nothing is described, however.
Enjoy!~
This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. After everything he'd already gone though, how could this be happening?
Branch's ears were ringing. He knew Poppy and the doctor were talking to him, but he couldn't hear them. He couldn't breath.
~
Branch hadn't seen Poppy in a week. He knew she'd brought him back to the bunker after the doctors appointment, and he was pretty sure she'd come by the bunker once or twice since then, but he hadn't seen her. He made point of staying holed up in his room, only venturing out once in the last week to grab a few rations from his pantry, though he barely touched them. He felt like he didn't deserve to. Not after…that.
So, it was a little surprising when he heard a knock on his bedroom door.
"Poppy?" he asked, his voice slightly croaky from crying near endlessly over the last week.
"Sorry, bud," a much deeper voice than Branch had been expecting said, before the bedroom door opened to reveal his oldest brother, "But she did ask me to come check on you."
"I don't blame her," Branch sniffed, rubbing at his eye and hunching his shoulders under the pile of blankets he'd buried himself under, "For not wanting to see me."
"Hey, now," John Dory scolded quietly, moving across the room to sit on the edge of Branch's bed. He reached out and gently pulled the blankets away from Branch's head, revealing the starkly grey face below. "Who said she didn't want to see you? That has nothing to do with it. She's worried about you, Bitty B, but she thought you wouldn't want to see her."
"Why would she think I didn't want to see her? I'm the one who…I…our egg," Branch choked on his words, covering his mouth with a hand as he gagged. John Dory reeled back quickly, glancing around and snagging a waste basket from near the bed as Branch dry heaved into his hand.
"It's okay, B," John soothed, holding the bin near Branch and shifting so he could rub his baby brother's back. Or, at least, where he assumed his back was through all of the blankets. "Let it out."
"I-" Branch began, only to snag the bin from John's hands and heave into it, what little contents he had in his stomach escaping in a mad dash.
"That's it," John hummed, wrinkling his nose at the retching sounds, but otherwise doing his best to stay calm and soothing.
Once Branch was done he sat back, settling the bin in his lap as he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth as a quiet sob bubbled up from his throat. "Why did this happen?"
The nearly inaudible question caught John Dory a bit off guard, but he collected himself quickly, taking the waste basket from Branch and setting it on the floor so he could gather his littlest brother and all of his blankets into his arms. "I can't answer that, Bitty B. I'm sorry."
"I did everything right," Branch sniffed, leaning into John, "I took all the vitamins, I was careful with my hair. We sang to it every day…But it still-it still died."
John gave Branch a squeeze, nuzzling his chin gently into the top of his brothers head, where he knew the egg once sat. "Sometimes…sometimes these things just happen. Without rhyme or reason."
"That's not good enough!" Branch suddenly snapped, wrenching himself out of John's grasp, his blankets falling down around his waist as he turned a tearful, angry scowl on his brother. "There has to be a better explanation! Even the doctor couldn't figure it out! It's not fair!" Branch hiccupped, his anger quickly burning out as tears he should, by all rights, be too dehydrated for began to tumble down his cheeks. "It's not fair."
"I know, Branch," John sighed, reaching for his brother again, only to have his hands slapped away.
"How would you know?! How could you possibly know what this feels like?! This-this awful, hollow feeling from knowing that, no matter what you could've done, no matter how much you wanted it, that your body rejected and killed something so defenseless? Something so small?"
John let his brother rage at him, a look of sympathy on his face. He let out a quiet little sigh, before digging into his hair and producing three small photos. He looked them over for a moment, before holding them out to Branch. His younger brother took them with a confused frown, his nose wrinkling as he tossed the photos back towards John after glancing at them briefly.
"Are you trying to rub something in my face?" Branch snapped, watching as John quickly and reverently picked the photos back up.
"No," John sighed, brushing his thumb over the edge of the photos, "They were mine."
Branch opened his mouth to snap at his brother again, only for his brain to lethargically catch up to what he just saw and heard. John didn't have kids, but he had pictures of eggs. "…Were?"
"Yeah," John gave a little nod, a sad smile on his face as he fanned the photos out and tipped them so Branch could see them again, though he did not offer them back over. "I didn't actually get a picture of the first one, since I sort of blacked out? And my partner at the time took the egg before I could do anything, but…yeah. I took a pictures of the rest. None of them survived past week three."
"I…John," Branch began, eyes wide as his brother tucked the pictures back into his hair.
"Hey, this isn't about me. I just wanted to let you know that I get it. I've been where you are. It's hard, and nothing I say or do will probably ever make you feel better. But, I just want to let you know I'm here. And so is Poppy," John said as he reached out to gently squeeze Branch's knee.
"When were they?"
"Hmm?"
"The eggs. When were they?"
"Oh," John sat back and fidgeted slightly. "Probably in my mid to late twenties? My partner was really, uh, affectionate, let's just say, but not…they weren't really present. It was a fair few years after the band broke up, and I made some really piss poor life decisions."
"And you wanted them?"
John sighed, rubbing at his face, before slumping over to lean on the headboard of Branch's bed, a far away look on his face. "So much. My partner sucked, but I loved kids. And, honestly, thinking I was gonna get to raise a kid of my own, it made me feel like I was getting a second chance to be better. I messed up so bad taking care of you guys, I thought it was the universe giving me a another chance. But that…well, obviously that wasn't really the case."
"I'm sorry."
"Hey!" John sat up, reaching out to tug Branch into a hug, glad that this time his brother fell into his chest without complaint, "Again, this isn't about me. This is about you."
"But…I couldn't imagine going through this again, and again…how did you manage?" Branch murmured, turning his face to bury it against John's shoulder.
"Honestly? I didn't. I wallowed a lot, and I just sort of floated through life. Pretty sure I was grey for a good chunk, too? I honestly don't really remember much. All four of them happened within the span of, like, two years."
"…If I ever find out who your partner was during all that, you know I'm going to send the K-Pop and Reggaeton trolls after them, right?" Branch muttered, half muffled by John's shoulder.
John snorted, rubbing Branch's back as he chuckled. "Yeah, I'm not gonna tell you that. Plus, I would have to honestly say that, with the amount of, mmm, illicit activities they enjoyed, I wouldn't be surprised if time already beat you to that punch."
They sat quietly for some time, John quietly humming as he stroked his fingers up and down Branch's back, while his shoulder became damp with his youngest brothers silent tears. Finally, when he deemed a sufficient amount of time had passed, and his knee began to protest the way he was sitting on the edge of the bed, he gently pushed Branch back so he was sat up. "How're you feeling now?"
"Horrible," Branch stated bluntly, sniffing rather loudly and earning a soft smile from his brother.
"Yeah, I could've guess that," John chuckled, offering Branch a handkerchief from his hair, "You look like garbage. But, do you think you're feeling well enough to see Poppy?"
"…Does she really want to? See me, I mean?" Branch wiped at his face, while he glanced at the fingers of his free hand. "I'm even grey again. This isn't what she signed up for."
"I think you should probably let her decide what she signed up for, Bitty B," John murmured, standing up from the bed and letting out a groan as his back cracked and his knee popped.
"Yeah," Branch sighed, absently wringing the handkerchief in his hands. "You can tell her, whenever she wants to, she can come over. We should talk about this."
"That sounds good," John hummed turning his head slightly, "You hear that, your highness?"
Branch jerked in his spot on the bed, turning wide eyes on his bedroom door as Poppy pushed it open, a bashful, tired little smile on her face as she waved at Branch. "Sorry, I-I really didn't know if you'd want to see me? And you were so sad, so I knew you needed someone to talk to, but I didn't think it being me would've been a good idea, and I couldn't think of anyone else you would let in here, let alone actually talk to, so I just-"
"Poppy!"
Branch let out the first quiet laugh he had in over a week as Poppy's mouth snapped shut with a click of her teeth, while he lifted the blankets in a silent offer to the queen of pop. She let out an audible sob, before rushing the bed and snuggling up into Branch.
"Yeah. You kids'll be okay," John muttered to himself, turning to let himself out of the bedroom as the two began to speak in hushed tones to each other under the blankets.
"John, wait!"
John Dory paused in the doorway, turning a curious glance back at his brother, who was already beginning to look a bit lighter. Not blue, not even close, but not the dark charcoal grey he'd been moments before. "Yeah?"
"Thank you. For being here, and talking to me."
"Whenever you need, you know where to find me," he said with a small nod, before heading out the door.
#trolls#dreamworks trolls#trolls branch#trolls john dory#tw: miscarriage#trolls fanfic#prompt fill#things that i wrote
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