#I needed to humble Joe for a minute | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trippinsorrows · 8 months ago

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with me + part two

authors note: well, holy shit, the response to this has been so unexpected yet insanely appreciated and humbling! the kind words of support and interest really have been so wonderful to receive. thank you thank you thank you!

this ended up much longer than i intended, but i couldn't find a "good" place to break it in half, so i apologize for the length.

i also feel like this is a bit on the boring but necessary side in terms of setting the scene and backdrop for what's to come....

i also feel like this is gonna def be more than 4 parts, so sorry!!!!

warnings: language, slight sexy time, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny's child

words: 7.5k

tag gang: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion @tshepisho @lizzycaraballo-blog @xiamentshoneypot

“I need a break.” He slid out of you, the absence of his thick dick noticeable and borderline uncomfortable. Despite the fact that your voice was hoarse, limbs jello, and pussy tender as all outdoors, you still wanted him. Wanted to feel him inside you. But you knew you also needed some amount of time for your body recoup for the next round, so you made logic overpowered lust.

He made a sound, lying on his back, eyes on the ceiling. “So fucking needy for this dick.”

“Shut up.” It was intentionally not a denial, because he wasn’t entirely wrong. It’d been a shitty past couple weeks, what with parent teacher conferences, your least favorite time of the year. There were only so many different ways you could try to gently explain to parents that their child wasn’t the next Cornel West and actually could benefit from “additional evaluations.” But that almost always went over their heads as they attempted to tell you, the professional, the real reason why their child wasn’t doing well.

You were just over all of it and damn near at your wits end when you got the text from Joe that he’d be in town this weekend. That goofy ‘i’m about to get some good dick’ smile was damn near stamped on your face in the days preceding his arrival. You needed an outlet, and wearing yourself out on his dick until you were physically incapacitated happened to be the perfect one, the best one.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have options, you did, but they were subpar. And that was the problem with having a chance to experience superior dick, everything else that followed was mid. No one had ever fucked you like Joe. No man before him had ever made you come from just penetration. You always needed more. Had to sometimes physically instruct them on what you needed. Not with him. He gave you more—-the man could and had stayed with his face buried between your legs for hours on end—-but it wasn’t necessary. He could fuck you to a toe curling, light blinding climax with just a few good, deep strokes.

And yes, you still struggled with the guilt of fucking someone else’s man, but in times like this, where you were beyond stressed the fuck out, all you could think about was getting off and decreasing that stress. The guilt session could come later.

“What’s wrong?” He asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence. You could both be around each other and not say a word without an ounce of discomfort. It was nice.

“Parents suck.” You answer, bluntly, afterwards realizing how vague that is. “I’ve had parent teacher conferences the past couple weeks, and they’ve been getting on my nerves trying to tell me how to do my job.”

“That sounds annoying.”

“Beyond, and makes me feel like they’re insinuating I don’t know what I’m talking about. I do. They just don’t want to hear it.” They prepared you in school, to some extent, to expect those select parents that weren’t the easiest to work with but to always stand behind your professional judgment regardless if one agreed or not. And for the most part, your parents in the years since you’d been teaching were relatively chill. It just seemed that this time of the year is when all of them decided to be in their difficult era.

One hand behind his head, Joe looks over at you. “Then that’s on them.” He shrugs. “You can’t make them hear what they don’t want to hear.”

Groaning loudly, you turn on your side, propping your own head up with your hand. “I know. It just sucks for the kids. There’s a couple who might be on the spectrum or have ADHD, but I can’t outright say it, so all I can do is strongly imply. And trust me, my implications are clear as fucking day. It’s just annoying when I have to work harder than I should to get people to be their kids' advocate, not their adversary.”

He’s quiet for a second and then asks. “What’s the best part of your job?”

The answer doesn’t even require contemplation. “My students. Hands down. I love kids. I love helping them learn and seeing the excitement on their face when they finally grasp a concept I’m teaching. It’s super rewarding.”

His gaze lingers on you, “Then focus on that. You do this because it’s a passion and a love and you’re clearly good at it.”

His words marinate over you, reminiscent of past conversations where you’re the one feeding positivity into him, reminding him to not lose focus of what’s most important and why he does what he does. The roles being reversed is different but nice. It’s nice to have him to talk to, it’s always easy to do so.

You move your hand to his chest and slowly walk your fingers downward. “Good dick and good advice. This trip is a double win for me.”

His jaw clenches when you begin to stroke him, sinfully and intentionally slowly. A smirk forms on your face. He’s just as needy for you as you are for him.

Joe’s voice is hoarse with desire. “You ready for the next round?”

“Yes.” You’re not sure if physically, you’re well enough, but that’s what epsom salt baths are for. And Motrin. You need him. Climbing on top, you grab his hardened length and align it at your entrance, dew coating the tip and serving as natural lubricant. “But I want to be on top this time.”

________

“Mommy!”

You’re startled awake by the loud voice, jumping body, and smiling face of your personal alarm clock. The only alarm clock you’ve ever had that you can’t dictate the time it goes off. It takes a second for you to settle yourself, to push away the inappropriate afterthoughts of such a salacious dream—one you’re slightly disappointed couldn’t play out longer—to focus on the little human in front of you.

The shining sun beaming down on you from the curtains you’re certain she opened assists in doing just that. You rub at your eyes, a small, warm smile growing. “Good morning, Callie Bear.”

Her eyes, big, brown, and always full of curiosity are focused on you as she stops jumping and lands on her knees. “You’re up!”

You chuckle, how can you not be up with a rambunctious four year old jumping on your bed and screaming for you to wake up? ”I’m up.”

“Yay!” She cheers, tiny fists raised up and victory. “Can we have pancakes?”

“I don’t know.” You pretend to contemplate her request, index finger against your bottom lip. “Can we?”

She pouts, and you bite on your lip to suppress your laughter. Her arms cross over her tiny chest, bonnet covered head tilting to the side. “May we have pancakes?”

Sometimes, you feel bad for your daughter, having a teacher for a mother. You’re always going to be on her about anything academic related, especially English. “We certainly can.” Yawning, you sit up in bed and scratch your scalp through your bonnet. “But first, hygiene.”

Swooping her into your arms, you’re met with a chorus of giggles as you tickle her stomach with your index finger. Walking into the bathroom, you sit her on the counter and reach her her toothbrush, putting on her (Halle Bailey) Little Mermaid themed toothpaste before letting her do her thing as you do hers.

This is the first time in a while that you’re grateful for your daughter waking you up so early on a weekend. Those dreams….you’d be lying if you said they didn’t happen more than you’d like to admit. You’d tried to figure out what triggered them but have yet to be successful.

The simplest answer would be that you miss him. You miss Joe, but that’s also the answer you refuse to admit. You can’t miss him. Don’t have the right to miss someone else’s man, someone else’s husband.

All you can do is be appreciative that one of the biggest regrets in your life brought you your biggest blessing.

Calista, Callie, to almost everyone she knows, was a complete and utter surprise.

It was time for your women’s wellness exam, and in the set of questions they asked you, one was of course the date of your last menstrual cycle. Being stumped for a second was normal, hence why you used your beloved Flo app to track your cycle. But, it’s when you opened the app and realized you hadn’t logged a period in two months, you knew.

Didn’t need a blood test to tell you the obvious.

You were most definitely pregnant.

You’d used Flo consistently since you were 14 years old, there was no way in hell you’d forgotten for two whole months to input the period dates.

So, after crying and damn near having a panic attack, your doctor provided you with pamphlets. Options, as they were called. You wouldn’t review them until a couple days later, needing that time to process that you were actually pregnant. Pregnant by a married man that you’d ended things with, ironically, on the night your daughter was conceived.

What in the actual fuck were you supposed to do? Send him a text and say ‘nvm. Congrats, we’re expecting. Are you gonna tell your wife or should I?’ To this day, you’re convinced that the nasty wave of ‘morning sickness’ you experienced the first few weeks of finding out you were with child was actually just your absolute disgust that you’d allowed another woman’s husband to impregnate you.

It was like you were walking in the same footsteps your mother molded for you. Something you swore you’d die before letting happen.

What’s that saying? We make plans, and God laughs. Well, he must be having a field day with you.

It was actually in confiding in Mariah, your best friend since kindergarten, that you were able to look past your shame and panic to see this for what it is.

“You want to have kids, don’t you?” She asked in an obvious tone, picking through the big bowl of popcorn you two shared while Insecure played at a low volume on your TV. “Well, here’s the kid.”

“I wanted to have kids with a husband, Mariah.”

“Well—“

“Shut up.” You tossed a few pieces of popcorn in her direction. This was not the time for her occasional joke. You were too busy having a mental breakdown.

“Does it really matter how the baby got here? Aren’t you the one always saying kids are a blessing? Why are you trying to block yours?” It’s a fair, valid point that you’re too stubborn to want to hear, even if it’s what you needed to hear. “I’m just saying if you’ve been blessed with being a mom, something you’ve always wanted. Seems kinda silly we’re having this discussion instead of baby names, baby showers, and gender reveals.”

“I’m not doing a gender reveal.” That much you are absolutely sure of. Never. But, Mariah’s words do resonate with you. Why were you so caught up on how you got pregnant? Yeah, it was fucked up, but dwelling on it did nothing but make you feel worse. You always imagined this would be a happy occasion, couldn’t you find it in you to be happy? Regardless of the father and that whole Tubi of a situation.

There was a life growing inside of you, no matter the dynamics of the creation, the child had done nothing wrong, didn’t deserve to be blamed. And the truth was you weren’t really that upset, you were more happy than anything, if you really allowed yourself to feel without reservation. Borderline excited, even. Maybe even at the fact that you would always have a small piece of him with you in a really big way.

Even if he wouldn’t be a part of that experience.

And it was then that you decided. You didn’t care what anyone thought, couldn’t think about how your mother, who was completely unaware about your relationship with Joe for the entire three years, would react. You’d figure out the rest of this later because you were having this baby, but you were having this baby by yourself. Joe couldn’t know.

He wouldn’t know.

And almost five years later, nothing has changed. Yes, you absolutely couldn’t see yourself making it through your pregnancy and even the first few weeks postpartum without the help of your mom and Mariah. But, for the most part, you did everything you could by yourself for your daughter, wanting her to see the strength and perseverance of a strong, single mother.

She finishes brushing before you and spits out the remnant toothpaste in her mouth. “Are we gonna see grandma today?”

You finish a few seconds after, spitting and wiping your mouth before answering. “We certainly are.”

“Yay!” She celebrates as you bring the towel to her face, giving it a gentle cleanse before tossing it into the hamper. Callie wastes no time in removing her bonnet and giving her curls a good shake. The two of you share a laugh as you follow suit.

“Pancake time?”

Separating some of her coils, you answer with a wink. “Let mommy wash her face, and I’ll be right out, kiddo.”

“Okay.” Nodding, she jumps off the counter and hurries into the kitchen knowing good and well what’s about to come out of your mouth.

“Sis, what have I told you about jumping off this damn counter?” All you hear is giggling in the wake of her dash. This child has daredevil tendencies that bring out a certain, uncomfortable level of anxiety. Medical bills weren’t in the budget, so you needed her to calm the hell down.

She probably gets it from–

Shaking your head from unnecessary thoughts, you quickly work your way through your routine and eventually meet her in the kitchen to find her on her tablet, probably trying to figure out what movie to put on while you two cook. On the weekends, you remove the passcode from her device but still maintain the time limits for her overall screen time.

You refuse to allow her to become an “ipad kid.”

“What’cha pick for us?” Moving through the kitchen, you pull out the necessary items and place them on the small island.

Climbing onto the barstool, she flips the screen with a proud smile. “Moana!”

Gasping with faux surprise, you ask, “again?”

Much like her mother who was like her mother, an affinity and passion for all things Disney is another thing your child inherited. She could watch Disney movies for the rest of life and never get bored. And Moana was at the top of that list, the new Little Mermaid was a close favorite, but Moana resonated deeply with Callie for reasons you still don’t fully understand.

Well, she is half Pacific Islan—

Clearing your throat, you and Callie get to work on breakfast, both singing along and dancing to the catchy Disney music. It’s a sweet bonding moment between the two of you, a bit of a tradition on the weekends. You’re not much of a cook, at all, but breakfast food is relatively simple. And thankfully, your child is not as picky as some other kids. A stack of pancakes with sausage is always enough to satisfy her.

It’s when you’re both sitting in the living room, on the floor, legs crossed while you eat the delicious breakfast that you’d prepared together that a thought crosses your mind.

A distraction could be beneficial, the dream from earlier still floating around in the back of your head. And not even the dream in as much as the main event from the theme.

You needed some dick. It’d been too long, that itch needing a scratch to give you some much needed reset.

So, it’s when Callie is focused on the scene in Moana when Maui’s hook is broken that you grab your phone and shoot off a text.

You free today?

Not even five minutes later, your phone buzzes with a response.

Just tell me when and where.

________

Walking through the doors of your mother’s hair salon is always an experience, nostalgic almost, to all the times you and your friends would hang out there with the hopes that you could get free or discounted services. Usually free for you, not so much for your friends.

Business was still business.

The familiar smell of hair oils, deep conditioner, and the overall sound of flat irons sizzling through hair brings a warm smile to your face. It’s things like this, this place even, that remind you why you decided to come home after college.

Home, where the closest major stores like Target and Walmart, and even the airport, are nearly half an hour away. Where you have only one elementary school, one middle school, and one high school. Where many of the streets are two laned and littered with storefronts, like your mom’s salon. Hell, the freaking bank, post office, and city hall are in the same building.

Everyone knows everyone, and for the most part, everyone looks out for each other.

It isn’t for everybody, this almost Hallmark movie type setup. You know this. Hence why many leave for school and never or seldom return. But, for you, it’s home.

It’s also the perfect place to discreetly and raise the daughter of a celebrity.

“Grandma!”

Your mom is in the middle of a conversation with a patron but almost immediately redirects her attention to the equally familiar voice of Calista. “There’s my grandbaby!” Callie runs into your mom’s arms and is peppered with kisses all over. “Looking more and more like your mama every day.”

That genuinely makes you smile. You tend to think she favors Joe more than yourself, usually when she’s making certain facial expressions. She has a lot of his mannerisms, which you are grateful for, happy that she has characteristics from both sides. But any and all of the good things she can take from you, you want her to have.

Callie’s smile is bright and infectious, as always. “That’s cause mommy’s my mommy!”

You laugh, approaching them and leaning in for your mom’s one armed hug as she has Callie in her other arm. “Hey, mama.”

“Hey, baby.”

Your relationship with your mom has definitely been up and down over the years, which you’d like to think is the standard for most mother-daughters. It’s something that’s arguably strengthened over time, especially post Callie. You’d gained so much more appreciation for your mother raising you on her own as a single parent. There was always appreciation, but infinitely more now as you were also in the same position.

“I was hoping she could hang out with you for a little bit today. I have some business to take care of. If that’s okay?”

Your mother gives you the look, the look that indicates she knows there’s more to what you’re saying but she won’t push out of respect for your privacy. And you’re grateful for that. You don’t necessarily want to explain that you need her to keep an eye out on Callie while you attend your dick appointment.

Sucking her teeth, she starts walking to the back where her office is located. “When have I ever had an issue spending time with my only grandchild?” She has you there. Your mom would take Callie every day if you let her, and you’re so thankful for that. Not even for the tremendous assistance your mom provides but for the close relationship she has with Callie, similar to how close you were with your grandma. “Want me to do her wash day for her while she’s here?”

At that, Callie’s eyes go wide as she starts to whine, “noooo. I don’t want to.”

You chuckle. “That’s how mommy feels too, babes.” You dreaded her wash day as much as you dreaded your own. The women in your family were blessed with long, thick, healthy curls that Callie clearly inherited from you but also her father’s side cause the girl had some hair. “If you don’t mind, mama.”

She waves off your unnecessary added comment and starts to assess the state of Callie’s hair, murmuring comments to herself.

You lean down in front of Callie and move your hand to her knee. “You sure you’re gonna be okay, sweetie?”

She nods and asks, “can we get ice cream when you come back?”

“We surely can.” You don’t allow her to have a lot of sweets—she already has enough energy as it is—but every so often, you two get the homemade ice cream cones at the local parlor. Sometimes you’ll sit outside and just talk, sharing laughs and inside jokes over the best ice cream anyone could ever have. And considering she’s about to endure a wash day, she deserves it. “I love you, Callie Bear.”

Putting her tablet on her lap, she leans over and hugs you tight. For such a tiny human, she always gives the best, most loving hugs. “I love you too, mama.”

Callie goes back to her tablet, and you issue your mom one more statement of appreciation before heading out so you can have your urge squashed and get back in time to have dessert with your little girl.

On the car ride there, you send up a quick prayer that this time will be different, that you can get what you need and be gone without being asked to stay. It’s always the same answer, so maybe the last one finally stuck to where he won’t hope.

Won’t get his own feelings hurt.

________

“You know you don’t always have to leave right away.”

Of course.....of course.

You’re in the midst of hooking your bra back on when he hits you with the offer you were stupidly hoping he’d pass on this time around.

Bold of you to assume you could come get some dick without this man trying to turn it into a cuddle session.

Your smile is tight as you politely decline. “I don’t want to leave Callie at the salon too long. You never know what she’s hearing.”

It’s a weak excuse, hence him poking a hole right through it. “You know your mom would shut that down right away. Get back in the bed.”

“Really, Amir, I can’t stay.” Once your bra is on, you reach on the ground for your panties, sliding them back on as well. The sooner you get yourself decent, the sooner you can dip.

“Can’t or won’t?”

And here it goes. Sometimes, you wonder why you continue to put yourself in this situation. Amir’s stroke game is nice, but is it really worth this constant routine? You two fuck, he tries to make it more, an argument, silence on both ends for a little while until one of you needs that urge handled. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

It’s been roughly the same since you were in high school.

Amir was your first damn near everything: first crush, first boyfriend, first kiss, first time. It was a textbook small town romance. He was the quarterback, and you were the cheerleading captain. Everyone said you were perfect together and predicted at one point you’d get married after college. Truthfully, you once thought the same. But outside of aesthetics, your relationship was always rocky, borderline toxic.

He had poor boundaries with other girls but never saw an issue because it never went beyond flirting. And because you were young, dumb, and just as toxic sometimes, you’d intentionally flirt with other guys to piss him off, knowing it was wrong to drag innocents into your Bobby and Whitney of a relationship but more interested in making him see your side of it..

Still, young and dumb. Not an excuse, but definitely a reason.

Even as you both went off to college, each attending separate schools, you’d occasionally hookup during the winter breaks. More often during the summer. He was your constant, preferred over allowing random dick into you, especially as he was most familiar and you knew he was clean. The devil you know type of thing.

Post college was when you really ended it, deciding that it was time to put the childish things behind you, time to put him behind you.

And you’d done relatively well for a while, the two of you becoming damn near strangers. Especially when Joe came into the picture. Amir was good in bed, but Joe was heavenly. Just the thought of anyone other than him fucking you at that time was repulsing.

But, Joe is gone, has been, so now you’re stuck returning to the same nigga you just can’t seem to get rid of because he has a decent sized dick he, mostly, knows how to use.

And your rose can only go so far.

“Fine. Won’t. Don’t. Not interested.” Standing up, you shoot him a look of challenge, of defiance. “Better?”

Your words understandably tick him off as he cruelly asks, “How long are you gonna let yourself be stuck on him? That nigga abandoned you and his kid, what is there to even be stuck on?”

Regardless of what happened between you and Joe, mostly with how it played out, you refuse to allow anyone to speak badly of him. Specifically when it pertains to his absence in your and Callie’s lives, especially since that was 100% your call. Only a select few know the full story, therefore the majority have no right to speak on it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, so please just shut the fuck up.”

“Where is he then, huh? It’s been almost 5 years, Y/N. You need to move the fuck on. He’s your past.” Moving out of the bed, he comes up to you and places one hand to your face. You fight the desire to pull away. His touch is suddenly uncomfortable, feels wrong and noisome. “It’s time to focus on your future.”

Not that you’d ever admit it to Amir, but there’s a hint of truth to his voice. Eventually, random hookups to fulfill your sexual needs will become insufficient. Hell, even now, you still desire to be married, to give Callie that 'traditional' family. The problem is mostly lack of options, even if Amir seems convinced you two should give it another try.

When hell freezes over.

Your voice is even and to the point as you finish dressing and pull out your key fob. “Like I said, thanks for the scratch, but that’s all this is.” Without giving him time to talk more shit, you head out the door without another fucking word.

________

“Oh shit, is that ole girl Randy used to mess with?” Joe is only halfheartedly listening to what his cousin is saying, mostly focused on the work email he’s reading on his phone. It’s far and few in between they actually have time off, let alone enough time to go home and be among the rest of family. He’s trying to enjoy it and is enjoying it, but work is always on his mind, hence his inability to ignore the email notification that slid in mid-group conversation. “What was her name?”

“It started with an M, didn’t it?” Jey suggests. “Mariah, I think.”

It's when the correct name is stated that Joe’s attention is briefly redirected. Mariah was your friend, the reason he was ever introduced to you. It’s a name he hasn’t heard in years. If only that was the same amount of time it’s been since he thought of you. No, instead, you’ve taken up real estate in his mind more than he’d ever like to admit or acknowledge.

“Wait, isn’t that—-” Jimmy is silenced, and out of the corner of Joe’s eye, he can see it’s because Jey gave him a look. That look you give someone when you want them to shut up.

Now…now they have his attention.

“What?” It’s when the twins share a look with each other, Jey shaking his head that Joe puts his phone to the side as Jimmy hits the lock button on his phone. “Let me see.”

“Look, Uce—”

“I said, let me see.” One thing Joe can’t stand more than anything is when people beat around the bush or try to hide things from him. He prefers people to be upfront and honest, damn whatever feelings come up. The truth is always better, in his mind.

And yet……

Shaking his head, Jimmy blows out a breath and hands his cousin the phone.

Joe looks down and instantly regrets ever pushing the matter.

Five years.

It’s been almost five fucking years since he’s seen that beautiful smile, those deep dimples that were one of the first things he noticed about you, outside of your breathtaking beauty. You looked almost exactly the same, maybe a bit heavier, still in all of the right places. Hair a little longer but still the same deep onyx with streaks of purple. You’re smiling and posing with Mariah who also hasn’t changed much outside of a new hair color and the huge baby bump she’s sporting. A baby shower, he’d guess.

But outside the shock of seeing you, Joe’s attention is also on the third person in the photo. A child, young in age, no more than 4 or 5, black, curly hair styled in two space-buns and a deep dimpled smile that’s almost identical to yours. Her eyes are a beautiful light brown shade, a contrast to your chocolate colored eyes.

But similar to….similiar to his.

Brows furrowed, Joe is surprised to see you’re tagged in the photo, so he goes to your profile and is even more shocked to find it public. You were always such a private person, but he chalks it up to the fact that the only people who’d really know how to find it would have to be those close to you.

You don’t have a ton of pictures, but he clicks on the first one that has a set of photos of you and the same little girl from the baby shower. It’s dated almost six months ago, so not the newest but better than nothing. The post is a slideshow, so he begins to scroll through the photos, each of them with you and that same child, clearly at various points in her life. The last one stops him for a moment, a photo of you, crying, in a hospital bed holding a newborn baby.

Swallowing back his emotions, Joe redirects his gaze to the caption:

my calista, my callie, my baby girl. God used one of the hardest periods of my life to bless me with the best gift anyone can receive. every day with you is an adventure. from your incessant questions about the most random of things, constant requests for disney movie marathons, to the way you refuse to part from me without giving the biggest hug and kiss goodbye while yelling ‘i love you, mommy!’. callie, you are my whole heart, and there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you, sweet girl. here’s to year 4 and many many more of having the biggest honor and privilege ever of being your mama bear.

So many things are going through his head right now.

You had a child.

You have a child.

Based upon the date of the post, you have a child who will be five years old in a couple of months.

A child who has your smile, but his eyes, his nose, and a complexion that looks the perfect combination of the two of you. She looks like the perfect combination of the two of you.

It’s hard to not jump to the obviously glaring conclusion that all of this brings, and still, he tries to not allow his head to go there. You would….you would never do that. You would never keep his child from him, no matter how things ended between the two of you. There was wrongness to that that reached low levels of depravity, and he just couldn’t conjoin that kind of deception with who he always knew you to be.

You were a woman who believed and tried to live by her morals. It was the reason you eventually cut him out of your life. Nothing about not telling him he has a child is moral.

He wordlessly hands the phone back to Jimmy and goes back to reading the email, acting like nothing just happened and he doesn't have a million and one thoughts running through the back of his mind.

It’s after he walks away, giving off an excuse that he needs to call Hunter to discuss a proposed promo that the conversation commences.

“So, we all just gon act like that lil' girl don’t look like Uce? She even got his eyes, man,” Jimmy, being Jimmy, is the first to say it aloud, the only one to actually verbalize what the others are thinking.

“Jimmy,” Naomi chides but can’t help adding. “Do you really think that could be his kid?”

Jey decides to join in on the conversation. “It’s possible. They messed around for years.”

“But would she really do that? Have his baby and not even tell him about her?” Naomi only met you a handful of times, but all of the interactions were pleasant, and she secretly thought you and Joe would have made a cute couple if the stars were aligned differently. “She had to have told him.”

Jimmy gestures to the sliding door Joe walked through minutes earlier. “Does that look like he knew?”

“This is all just speculation.” Joseph decides to join the conversation, always the one who prefers to listen to all sides before adding his two cents. “Similiar facial features don’t mean they’re related.”

“No, but add in the timeline plus the way it ended, and you can’t help but lean one way.”

“What did happen between them?” Somewhat newer to this circle, Joseph realizes that’s a topic he’s never really heard much about. He knows his cousin basically has an open marriage and sleeps around, but he’s always heard whispers there was a woman he was with for years.

“She just ended it one day.” Jey answers with a shrug. “Uce really ain't say much outside of that. It was sudden though.”

“But was it? Three years of waiting around for a guy to maybe or maybe not leave his wife for you?” Naomi serves as a counter, shaking her head and leaning forward to rest her chin in her hand. “Sounds like more than enough time to me.”

“It wasn’t nothing like that though. They was just messing around,” Jimmy defends.

“He cut off every other woman he was messing with when they were together.” Jey distinctly remembers how his cousin had one woman and only one woman on speed dial during that period, and it was you. It was always you. “I think it was more than just messing around.”

Joseph nods, taking in all this information. “So, if she is his, do you think she kept her a secret to get back at him for not divorcing Jadah?” It’s a bold question, but a valid one that Jey is the first to dispute.

“Naw, I’m with Naomi. Y/N wouldn’t do that.”

Jimmy shakes his head, starting to see how this is all looking to play out. “Well, if that is Joe’s daughter and that’s how he found out he has a child….this shit is about to get real ugly.”

________

Joe tried to tell himself it was just a wild coincidence. Reminded himself that you yourself said you wanted to get married, have kids. And you’d done that, had a kid. However, revisiting your Instagram pictures, in none of your posts did he see a man.

Or a wedding ring.

And just how fucking quickly could you have moved on? Doing the math, you would have had to have someone on speed dial to get pregnant as fast as you did. And that doesn’t line up with who he knew you to be. You were fucking him and only him.

You were with him and only him.

So that left him and only him.

And like a man hyperfixated on trying to solve a puzzle, he looks at every single post on your Instagram, starting from the year you met up until now. He focuses especially on the posts that include your daughter, not that many, but enough.

And when it’s all said and done, thoughts vs counterthoughts, logic vs emotion, Joe is 100% convinced that this is his child.

That he’s just now found out he’s a father through fucking Instagram.

And now he’s pissed because who the hell were you to keep his child from him? He didn’t give a fuck how you felt about him and his being married, that didn’t give you an excuse to hide a whole kid?

His kid.

________

“Ready for your bedtime story, Callie Bear?”

Reading with Callie has been a must since you found out you were pregnant. Your mom always told you how she read to you in the womb and to this day believes it’s why you always tested out so high with your reading abilities, even in the first grade. You’re not sure how accurate it is, having read some studies and whatnot, but you’ve followed suit, reading to Callie even when she was in your belly. Almost five years later, it’s now a tradition. She can’t go to sleep without a story.

She nods happily. You laugh and slide into the bed next to her. Naturally, she cuddles close to you, book already picked out and waiting on the bed. It’s one she’s heard a dozen times before but one of her favorites, so you read it just as theatrically, voice changes, and everything. Her giggles of happiness and merriment warm your heart. You love these one-on-one moments, wishing you could jar them and keep them stored away forever.

You’re a couple chapters in when she starts to yawn, eyes struggling to stay open, that you slide in the bookmark and promise to pick it up again tomorrow. You know Callie is ready to call it a night when she doesn’t protest.

But, it’s after placing the book on the shelf and going to tuck her into her covers that she hits you with a question that nearly sends you into cardiac arrest.

“Mommy, why don’t I have a daddy?”

You’re not stupid, far from it. This question was bound to come up, sooner or later. For your own selfish sake though, you were hopeful for later, much much later.

She continues, almost nervous in tone. “Ms. Leah said you need a mommy and a daddy to make a baby, so where’s my daddy?”

Curious how the conversation of where babies came from came about, you make a mental note to discuss this with your daughter’s preschool teacher before working to answer her valid question. Truth be told, you have no idea how to answer it. But if anxiety was the dominant emotion before, sadness and devastation easily topple that at the next thing to come out of her mouth.

“Does he not love me?”

It’s not until that moment that you truly know what it feels like for your heart to shatter into absolute pieces.

“Oh, baby….” Crouching down beside her bed, you move your hand to her forehead, thumb gently caressing her soft skin. You’re so damn lost on how to handle this, what to say to take away her obvious pain, that you go with the soonest thing that hits the forefront of your brain. “Your daddy…..he….he wasn’t ready to be a daddy.”

It could be the truth, it could be a lie. You never gave yourself—or him—the chance to find out, and up until this point, you never saw an issue with that. But now….now you’re wondering just who you made that decision for.

And if it was the right one.

Callie’s frown deepens, the answer clearly not one that makes her feel any better. “What if I’m a really good girl? Will he be ready then?”

The shattered pieces are now dust, granulated dust that you struggle to hold together in trembling palms. You bring both hands to her face. “Calista, you listen to me. You are the kindest, sweetest, most amazing little girl in the whole wide world. You don’t need to do anything to be a good girl because you are already a good girl, the best girl.”

Her eyes glaze over as she sniffles and asks in a small voice. “So why doesn’t he want me?”

“Oh, sweetie…” You pull her into a hug, holding her close and tight, as if doing so will allow her to absorb all of the love and adoration you have for this tiny human who made your life have meaning. “I’m gonna talk to him, okay? I’ll….I’ll talk to him.” That’s all you can say, even if it’s not a guarantee, even if you have no idea where such an offer came from. And you hate yourself for doing that, for getting her hopes up over something that may not even happen. You haven’t spoken to Joe in almost five years, there’s no guarantee the number is even still the same.

Still, you know you have to at least try, especially when you pull back and see the renewed hope in her teary eyes, the eyes she shares with the father she’s clearly desperate to know about, to meet, to have.

You close your eyes and press your forehead against hers, speaking with all the love and affirmation in the world, “I love you, Calista. Always, baby.”

You’re relieved to hear her reply in a less saddened and more hopeful tone, “I love you too, mommy.”

It’s after you’re certain Callie is knocked out and you’ve exhausted every single step of your nighttime routine that you pace around your room, partially trying to avoid an action you know you need to take.

Especially when you find his number in your phone from an old text thread you could never find it in you to delete.

You go back and forth for nearly twenty minutes before deciding on a simple question.

is this still joe’s number?

You feel like a damn child, throwing the phone down on the bed and burying your face into your hands. This is so much more difficult than it needs to be, or maybe it isn’t. You made the executive decision to not make Joe aware of your pregnancy for a variety of reasons that felt solid at the time.

Now…now you don’t know any fucking thing anymore, it seems.

What you do know is that you nearly jump off the bed when your phone begins to ring. Frowning, you look at the time, wondering who in the hell could be calling you at damn near midnight.

But, it’s when you lift your phone to see the caller you know exactly why someone is calling you at damn near midnight.

Ignoring it is so tempting, but the image of Callie in tears wondering why she’s not loved or wanted is more than enough to trample your selfish desires. Sliding the green button upward, you place the phone against your ear, take a deep breath, and speak, “hi.”

He exhales, your name leaving his mouth for the first time in years. Hearing his voice, let alone hearing him say your name, creates a heaviness you weren’t expecting. Then again, you weren’t expecting to speak to him at all tonight.

Or ever, for that matter.

Communication is suddenly incredibly difficult as you struggle to string words together to create a cohesive statement. “I’m….I’m sorry for calling so late, but—”

“We need to talk.” While your tone is soft and nervous, his is serious and borderline stoic. It takes you for a bit of a loop, but you try not to put too much into it. The real focus should be why he interrupted you so harshly with such a bold statement. He’s not wrong, but why does he think you need to talk? “I’ll get a flight out tomorrow.”

That breaks you from your thoughts. A what? “wait—”

“You still at the same place?”

Swallowing, still very much confused, you answer, “yes, but—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

The phone goes silent on the other end, and you realize it’s because he’s ended the call. You must stare at that phone for a good five minutes in complete utter shock. Eventually, coming out of the catatonia, only one thought circulates around your mind.

What in the actual fuck just happened?

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns #black writers #roman reigns fic #arisnotebook

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heartofwritiing · 2 years ago

Text

Jitters and good luck kisses

paring: musicianbur x fem!reader

authors note: just a short little blurb i had floating around my brain if the reader was dating wilbur and she joins him on tour for support lol. more wilbur fics are cominggg!!

warnings: Wilbur having anxiety, fluffy fluff, pda, short, unedited! if their is anything i missed let me know!

pre-show was always filled with anxiety for wilbur.

He's not exactly sure where his anxiety stems from when it came to performing, but it seems to be a combination of various factors. His overthinking brain tends to focus on potential mishaps, like messing up lyrics or strings breaking. However, he has rehearsed and there's no need to worry about these things.

He tried to clear his mind by shaking his head, hoping to expel the constant noise bombarding him, but it didn't work.

The opening act concluded fifteen minutes ago, and he sensed the audience becoming restless and excited about his band's performance. This caused him to feel increasingly nervous.

Wilbur had always been eager to please others and wished for everything to go smoothly in every circumstance. He had no desire to let anyone down, especially himself and the numerous individuals in the packed venue that had sold out within minutes.

He was still on cloud nine from everything recently. his band was finally taking off and getting more recognition. He was finally making a name for himself and was feeling proud of all the hard work he had put in. He was ready to take on the world and continue to make more music. He was determined to stay humble and keep learning, no matter how successful he became.

As his loving girlfriend, you were immensely proud of him. You stood by him through thick and thin, supporting him every step of the way as he chased his dreams. To you, nothing was more important than seeing him genuinely happy, and his passion for music brought him just that.

Remember that you left to get water five minutes ago he is anxiously pacing on the side stage again, wondering where you are. You went to the venues small "dressing room", which consisted of a mirror, a sofa, and chairs in a musty old room that smelled heavily of cigarettes. He expected you to return by his side sooner.

For the past month, you have been there every other night to wish him good luck with a kiss and cheer him on from the sidelines. You sing along to every single song.

You could tell that he was at ease when you were around, observing him from the sidelines and listening intently to every note he sang. His natural on-stage presence was undeniable and it was clear to you that he was meant to be there.

You were always there for him as a comforting presence whenever things took a turn for the worse. Though he felt guilty about relying on you for emotional support, he knew that your love for him surpassed any such concerns. Your mutual support for each other was a source of joy and strength.

Wilbur nervously chewed on the skin around his nails while Joe next to him tried to calm his nerves as well. Meanwhile, Ash and Mark engaged in casual conversation. Wilbur couldn't comprehend how they managed to stay composed before performances. If they did feel anxious, they never showed it.

“How are you guys not freaking the fuck out?” Wil questioned Mark and Ash, as he now was fiddling with the pegs on his fender.

Ash just shrugged. Great input.

“I used to but now it’s like not as much, since when I'm out there it kinda goes away like a switch is flipped in my brain to not be as anxious,” Mark explains.

Wilbur could agree with that. He experienced the same feeling every time they performed. As Mark mentioned, a switch would turn on in his mind, causing the bright lights and muted sounds of the audience to fade away. All that remained were the sounds of his own voice and his bandmates playing passionately in his ears.

"Okay guys, just one more minute before it's time for you to go on!" The stage manager gave them a thumbs-up before heading backstage to ensure that everything was ready to go one last tiem.

Wilbur’s eyes fell back to the spot where he last saw you disappear and felt his heart beating against his ribs. Panic settling in again.

As another minute passed, he worried that he wouldn't have enough time to kiss you before he went out. Mark was the first to go out due to his queue, followed by Joe and Wilbur could hear the fans cheering as Joe waved to them.

Just as Ash was preparing to take the stage, you rushed in through the side door and approached Wilbur with an anxious expression.

"I'm so sorry. My mother called and wanted to check in on me," you explained.

Wilbur noticed your panicked state and approached you, moving closer until your chests were almost touching.

"It's alright. I'm just relieved that you arrived on time. I was just about to step out," he exhaled, feeling as though he had taken his first breath in minutes.

Being close to you again felt like he was grounded and not lost in his thoughts. Regardless of the time and distance, he always felt your absence and missed you dearly.

As you smiled at him, Wilbur felt like he could die from the sheer beauty of the moment. The apples of your cheeks were so round, and the look in your eyes made it clear that you belonged to him.

He loved you so much.

"Of course! I couldn't let you go on without a kiss," you playfully remarked.

His hands came up to cup your cheeks tenderly and you both leaned in simultaneously until your lips met. It was soft and had nothing but your love and admiration poured into it. It wasn’t rushed or heated, just enough time so that when he pulled away your lips felt tingly with excitement.

You took his hands in yours and kissed his knuckles while gently squeezing them, letting him know that you would be waiting for him after he finished his set. He took a deep breath.

“go be a rockstar,” you kissed his cheek.

As you stood before him, he leaned in and placed one last soft and tender kiss on your forehead. The moment was too precious to resist the urge to kiss you one last time. He held onto your hands until you were too far apart to hold on anymore.

He then turned around, his guitar securely strapped to his back as he strode confidently toward the center stage. The microphone stood tall and proud, waiting for him to deliver his musical gift to the eager audience.

You watched in awe as the man you loved nervousness instantly floated away, as Mark counted into the first song and played his heart out. You never got tired of seeing him be so in the moment when he presented himself in front of an audience.

Wilbur approached you after the show with his heart pounding in his ears and a smile stretched across his face. The stage attendant took his guitar, and he embraced you in a bone-crushing hug spinning you around You could feel the excitement radiating off of him as he set you down. Sweat clung to his shirt and skin but you didn't care.

"That was one of the best shows we've done!" he exclaimed. "The audience was really engaged and enjoying it. I'm so proud of the band!" His happiness was infectious.

He looked into your eyes and smiled. It was important for you to let him know how proud you were of him. You have told him countless times, but you never got tired of telling him.

"I'm so proud of you honey!" you beamed.

Wilbur left your side to go congratulate the rest of the team. the rest of the band gathered around to celebrate together as You watched on in admiration as Wilbur interacted with each of them so effortlessly You felt immense pride seeing how far they had all come in such little time.

You couldn't tell what they were talking about as they all nodded at something Joe had said and separated to get ready to pack up and get back on the tour bus.

There was a look of love appearing on Wilbur's face when he looked back at you. You felt a warmth in your heart as you returned his gaze. He returned to you and embraced you once more, burying his face in your neck. As he bent over you, your hands threaded their way into his damp curls.

"Thank you for being here, I honestly don't know what id do without you." he sighs into your ear.

Your heart fluttered at the softness in his voice and you tightened your grip around him.

"I'm glad I could be here. I love you," you whispered the last part so softly that you doubted he could hear it.

Until he whispered back so affectionately; "I love you too,"

You both left the venue hand in hand as you walked with the rest of the group to the bus to get ready for going out for drinks at the local bar to celebrate another great night.

#wilbur soot x fem!reader #wilbur soot x reader #mcyt fanfiction #fanfiction #cc!wilbur soot x reader #musicianbur #musicianbur x reader #cc!wilbur soot #blurb #headcanon #cc!wilbur soot x fem!reader #fluff #wilbur soot fanfiction

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fictional-at-heart · 9 months ago

Text

Alrighty folks. I present to you:

Go Ahead and Throw Your Stones

Fandom: The Boys in the Boat (2023)

Characters: Bobby Moch, Don Hume, Joe Rantz, Shorty Hunt, Jim McMillin, Johnny White, Gordy Adam, Chuck Day, Roger Morris, Al Ulbrickson

The Varsity rowers have been annoyed with the JV rowers for a while. When three of them catch Bobby alone, they decide to take their anger out on him.

Prepare for some Bobby WHUMP!! I will warn that there’s violence. It’s not graphic, but it is there.

Bobby walked out of the shellhouse, pulling his jacket closer to him. He had decided to take a walk after practice. The January weather had been cold, but the last few days had been a little warmer than it had been. Practice had been a bit rough that day, as Ulbrickson had been trying to get the varsity boat prepared for the upcoming races, hoping to get them to Olympic qualifiers. They had been racing the JV boat as practice, but the JV continued to beat the varsity. As satisfying as it was for Bobby and the boys to beat the varsity boat, it of course ended with Ulbrickson giving them a stern talk; and earning the JV rowers glares from the varsity rowers. Bobby liked the varsity rowers well enough, but the more often his boys beat them, the more tense things got between the varsity boat and the JV boat. More often than not, comments were made in the locker room after practices, which Roger claimed rooted from jealousy. Bobby snorted. It wasn’t their fault they were the better rowers, in his own humble opinion. The varsity boat was definitely good, no doubt about it. But he had to agree there was something different about the boys he coxed. He thought the varsity boat just needed to grow a pair and let it go; a thought he of course had no problem voicing to them. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea, but after the comments they had made towards his boys, he had had enough of their attitudes.

As he walked near the water, he stopped to catch his breath. He leaned against a tree as a coughing fit started- that darn cold air, he thought. He usually stayed inside as much as possible when it was cold, but he felt like he needed the air today- despite what it did to his asthmatic lungs. When the coughing fit finally ended, he sat down underneath the tree. He stood up a minute later as he heard footsteps approaching, figuring Joe and Roger had come to let him know dinner was almost ready. Great, he thought as he turned around to find that it was not Joe and Roger. Instead, he saw Billy, George, and Ralph approaching him- the stroke and seats 3 and 4 of the varsity boat. Bobby forced a smile and waved.

More on AO3

@savvylittlecoxswain

#the boys in the boat #bobby moch #luke slattery #fanfiction #whump #writing #Michaiah Writes

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aliypop · 9 months ago

Text

Return To Sender : Chapter 6

Word Count: 1,220

Writers Note: Alright, bare with me yall, dealing with Depression, but I promised to write the last chapter

Warning: Language

Pairing: POC OC x Elvis / OC x Jerry

Plot: It's 1968 and Natalya Dyer a divorcee and single mother is tasked to interview Elvis and Cecelia Presley at their humble mansion Graceland about their spicy relationship only to learn more about them as people.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Taglist

@darkmoviesquotespizza

@sissylittlefeather

@richardslady121

@thegettingbyp2

@presleyenterprise

@dkayfixates

@rjmartin11

@thetaoofzoe

@your-nanas-house

@zayurir

@60svintage

@sillybookmarks

@leapresley

@everythingelvispresley

@dreamondina94

@elvismylove04

@pocketfulofpresley

@elvispresley1956

@poeandmoonknightgirl

Las Vegas August 1970

3 am in Vegas was oddly serene, with the neon lights flashing and low traffic, but still comforting like California. As Natalya lay close to Jerry, she felt warm and comfortable, something she hadn't felt in a long time, but they were the perks of dating strong for two years. "Pst Nat..." She heard a whisper as she grumbled, rolling over, "Nat..." She heard it again and rolled the other way, "Babe..." Natalya woke up from her groggy state of mind as she looked up at "Jerry... hey baby..." she said, rubbing her eyes, "Where were you?" She asked as Jerry got undressed, "After party with C and E," He smirked, "Without me!" Natalya grumbled as Jerry laughed, "No, I was with the clean-up crew." He smiled as he felt her hands on his waist, hoping she wouldn't reach into his pocket,

"Oh..."

"And while I was helping. I thought of something,"

"Like..." She asked, her short lace nightgown flopping about.

"What if we got married?"

"Jerry, you're kidding?"

"I mean, we're in Vegas, the city of Love," He smirked, kissing her forehead, "That's Paris. Vegas is the city of lights, liquor, and lust," Natalya replied, "And besides, I don't have a wedding dress or a venue. Jerry, we don't even have a" She looked to see Jerry on his knees, "Ring... there's a ring, that's a huge ass diamond..."

"Nat...Nat..."

"It's bigger than my sister's ring!"

"Nat..."

"Where'd you get it!?"

"Nat, are you going to marry me or-" Natalya tackled him to the ground and kissed him,

"Yes!"

"Hey, Jerry E needs-"

"CHARLIE WE'RE GETTING MARRIED!" And like that, the news traveled like a speeding bullet.

"El... Please come to bed," Cecelia sighed, lying in the bed of their extraordinary hotel suite, "I'll be there in a minute, honey." Elvis said as he buried his nose deeper into his book, "What are you even doing in the tub!" Cecelia shouted as Elvis froze, "Uh man stuff!" He shouted back as she laughed

"Ah, yes reading a romance novel again?"

"Uh no!"

"Then what are you reading, dear?"

"Uh... PORN!" He shouted as Cecelia cackled, "There's no shame in reading romance novels, especially when they're my romance novels..." She smirked as Elvis rolled his eyes, Elvis got out of the tub and he wrapped a towel around his waist his book in the other hand as Cecelia whistled, "God, how did I get so lucky..." She bit her lip as Elvis climbed on top of her,

"I should be askin that, honey..."

"Why don't we put the pillow on the headboard and..."

"JERRY AND NATALYA ARE GETTING MARRIED!" Joe shouted slamming their door open, Elvis and Cecelia were a shocked blushing mess,

"First Joe knock... Second when?"

"Sorry... uh they wanna get married in one of those quick chapels..."

"No," Cecelia said with a serious tone,

"No?" Joe asked,

"You heard boss lady she said no," Elvis winked,

"Tell them, we're going to plan 'em a wedding and it will be done right."

"But how!" Natalya asked, as Joe was now talking to her and Jerry, "Well, they're going to plan everything," Joe shrugged, "I mean, it's possible, they're the Presley's anyone bends to their command even the President!"

"Now you're pushing it." Natalya rolled her eyes,

"He's right," Jerry smirked,

"I still don't Believe it."

"Hello Mrs, Presley speaking, yes we need 200 flowers,"

"Of course Mama Dyer, first class to Vegas," Elvis smiled,

"Mhmm, that chapel is perfect," Cecelia nodded,

"Food choices sound great," Elvis responded,

"5 teared cake, by tomorrow, you're a godsend." Cecelia grinned, They then had made the last calls, Elvis ordering the tux's and Cecelia calling Midge for the dresses, "We planned an entire wedding..." Cecelia blinked, "And it's only.... 7 am!" Elvis kissed her forehead as she began to flutter to sleep,

"7 AM THE WEDDINGS AT 1 PM, I GOTTA GET NAT READY, HAIR MAKEUP, T-THE KIDS AND!"

"Baby you go to sleep and I'll handle everything,"

"Nope, I'm up."

"Cecelia Shanel Presley..." Elvis said, his voice was low and stern,

"Yes..."

"Sleep... I'll wake you when we need ya."

"CECE WE NEED YA!" Midge opened the door, Rosa was doing Natalya's makeup Carlotta was doing her hair Daphane did her nails and Cheryl was trying to talk her down.

"But what if Jerry doesn't want me..."

"Oh, honey he does." Rosa smiled teasing her long hair up, "Does he make you feel loved and stuff?" She asked, "Yeah,"

"He loves you," Cecelia smiled, walking in, Natalya looked up and smiled, "Marriage isn't easy, but you know that you've been married before and the way he makes you feel and your son feel should be all the reason you two get married," Cecelia mentioned as she flopped on the bed,

"Someone had a long night with Elvis..." Carlotta smirked,

"Yeah planning a wedding."

"Hey E,"

"Yeah Jerry," Elvis asked as he straightened out his velvet suit jacket,

"Any marriage tips?"

"Well, Marriage is hard but worth it, it's give and take, it's sick days and gettin' on each other nerves, it's fights and long nights of cramps and sick kids, and nights where you don't always get what you want, but you get what you need." He patted him on the back,

"Would you do it again?" Jerry asked,

"Every time," Elvis smiled as he remembered his wedding and how nervous he was marrying Cecelia, but when he saw her walk down the aisle, he knew she was all he ever needed,

"Mama!" Jericho ran in. He was in a little tuxedo as Natalya teared up, "Mr. Jerry wrote you this!" He handed his mother the envelope as he opened it,

"Well, what's it say..."

"To Natalya, I can't wait to marry my best friend," She blushed, "love Jerry." The women all swooned as Natalya teared up, The chapel was filled with family and friends, beautiful flowers, and love all around. All the women had gathered into place as Cecelia found "El thank God I found you," Cecelia chuckled as she ran towards him, "What's wrong baby," He turned to face her, and she saw him in his tux, Cecelia couldn't help but stare,

"I ...I"

"Hmm?"

"Wanna get married again?" Cecelia asked as Elvis chuckled, "Yes I would," He kissed her cheek, the music started and it was time, Jerry was calm as could be, he knew this was what he wanted and nothing would stop him, as Jericho, Jesse, and Elaine walked down he knew that any moment his bride would come.

"You look beautiful, honey," Natalya's father said as she nodded, "Thank you..." She smiled, kissing her cheek as he gave her away to Jerry,

"You look..."

"Look?"

"Like my wife," He smirked as she took his hand, "Thank God, cause you look like my husband," She smirked back at him,

"I now pronounce you Husband and Wife," Jerry kissed Natalya as she held him close to her, "So do we have a reception..."

"Something like that..."

"Jerry..."

"We get to see Elvis in Concert..." Natalya smirked as Jerry rolled his eyes, "We always see 'em perform, which by the way where are E and C," In the limo, there was snoring as the two were cuddling close, "Mmm, Happy team better dreams huh,"

THE END

#oc #fanfiction #new stuff #new #romance #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis x oc #introducing a new oc #cecelia valmos #60s elvis #Natalya dyer #68 comeback special #New oc #oc x jerry schilling #jerry schilling

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bunting27 · 2 years ago

Note

A humble request for more Joseph Woll fluff! I would especially enjoy- "i'm sad and i demand cuddles." because university is kicking my ass at the moment and I just need a hug ❤️

bunting27's 100 follower celly !

a/n: this took so long, i hope university is no longer kicking your ass but here's joe hugs regardless

prompts: "i'm sad and i demand cuddles."

wc: 0.5k

taglist: @nylwnder @kenanlotus0 @whourfeyrac

✏︎

she was typing at her desk, hunched over in a way that would no doubt have her back sore for the next week, while joseph laid in their bed and scrolled away on his phone.

he would look at her every few minutes, staring hard enough in hopes that she would feel it and turn to pay mind to him, but she didn’t, too dialed into whatever project she was working on to notice.

eventually, he started moving around, letting out quiet sighs just to distract her or grab her attention for a second.

she noticed, but didn’t move her head, only asked “why are you breathing so aggressively, joe?” he almost laughed to himself, but figured she would be more easily convinced to leave her schoolwork if he kept it serious.

“just thinking about the game,” she furrowed her eyebrows, turning to look at him for a split second with a look of concern before moving right back to her computer screen and continuing to type away.

“there are five players in front of you for a reason, baby. quit beating yourself up,” he groaned, leaning his head back and dropping his phone on his chest dramatically, earning a small glare from her.

"i'm sad and i demand cuddles." she grinned, fingers paused, hovering above the keys of her laptop as she thought about it.

“this project is due wednesday, i’m almost done, give me like, an hour. okay?” at that, he shot up from the spot on the bed and gave her an offended look, lips parted and forehead creasing adorably

“it’s friday, baby,” she giggled, hearing the sheets ruffle around as he stood, coming over to her at her chair and lifting her out of it by the waist.

“i had good momentum going, shoot me for wanting to get my last class over with” he shook his head, dropping her down onto the bed and laying on top of her, ensuring that she wouldn’t be able to move to go back to her work.

“well now that momentum is gone so i think you should just stay right here and play with my hair. that’s the most logical step, in my opinion,” his voice was muffled from the way he had tucked his face away into her neck.

she rolled her eyes at him, ruffling his hair and then starting to scratch his scalp softly. he hummed at the feeling, smiling contently now that he was getting the attention he deserved.

“you know i’m going to completely forget about that assignment and put it off until friday at, like, three in the morning, right?” he shrugged against her, wrapping his arms around her waist so he had her in a bear hug.

“we all make sacrifices for the greater good,” she scoffed, covering up her laugh before giving him a soft kiss on the head.

#bunting27's 100 follower celly #joseph woll #john tavares #j woll #nhl blurb #hockey blurb #toronto maple leafs

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dancesinlight · 8 months ago

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In my humble opinion:

We don't need any more LOTR movies. That batch covered the books nicely.

Al Capone was sent to prison on Tax Evasion. Trump will probably as well.

We have been hard core price gouged. This household has been trimming back for a couple years.

Electric vehicles are a crock of shit. Sure, they do as intended. BUT DAMN! $300 per tire? and where does the electricity come from to charge 'em? AND 45 minutes to charge? Oh Lort!

Republican politicians want women as birth machines with not any rights to themselves.

A liberal conservative am I. One issue voter, that is womens' rights. Ol Joe is far from perfect, but lordy! he is so much better than old orange.

Rant over. Return to the pretties....

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joe-moi · 11 months ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/joe-moi/743036870016008192/when-we-finally-get-a-djo-show-and-70-of-the?source=share

Yes and I love that. I love sharing new music with people. It's one of my favorite things so I can't wait to see all the genuine new fans. I've been trying to drop Djo into my friend's lives for years. I love that and think he absolutely deserves those new fans who are gonna explore his discography now.

There is definitely a whole thing where people knowingly go to shows to see that one viral song or whatever, so it's inevitable that this happens (which like..how fucking nuts with the way ticket prices are these days to go because you know one or two viral songs? Where are people getting this expendable income to blow on like 6 minutes to sing along to?).

The best thing is that...hes so apathetic and aware of the Social Media, consumption experience that he'll be like "ah, it's time to play this for the people who only came for this one song". self aware about it maybe a little self depreciating about it ... still very appreciative of the recognition and the whole thing, but another way for him to downplay his talent like he does way too much IMO. (But I do love the humble king for it too)

🦩

I truly do not understand how people have the money to spend at Ticketmaster to get tickets for one song. That could not be me. If people do that I need to know where they get their money. What job do you have because I need to switch industries.

and I know that a lot of people that start listening will only listen to like one or maybe two songs. I feel like people will listen to end of beginning and maybe château. It’s the ones that actually listen to all of them and genuinely enjoy the music that are coming in because they heard it on TikTok that I’m excited for.

#anonymous asks #🛼answers #jk

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jdgo51 · 11 months ago

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FEBRUARY 4, 2024

Pass It On Diana Clark (Rhode Island, USA)

"'Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others.”' - Mark 12:43 (NIV)

"Several years ago, while we were acclimating to a new church, a kind member began the habit of passing a copy of The Upper Room to our family. At the time, our children were in elementary and junior high school, and our lives seemed very full. We wondered how we would find the time each day to gather the family together to accomplish yet one more task. We began to set aside a few minutes each morning after breakfast before our day got too busy and our children headed off to school. Before long, we had gotten into a wonderful routine! Occasionally, something would interfere with it, and the morning devotional would be overlooked. It didn’t take us long to make a connection that the days begun with devotionals went more smoothly than the ones without.

Decades later we are still beginning our days with The Upper Room at breakfast, and we have started the tradition of “passing on” the devotional to friends and family members, just as our friend had done for us. Over the years, our lives have been enriched by the messages of spirit-filled Christians from all over the globe. It all began with a humble act of sharing Christ’s love." Reading special accounts offered by others can have an impact on us. It causes us to think about the circumstance and often the miracle that takes place because of God being present in it. Share your thoughts with others as your experiences can make a difference for other people.

TODAY'S PRAYER

"Help us, Lord, to pass on to others the generous gifts of love you have given to us." Amen.

Mark 12:41-44

"'41 Jesus sat across from the collection box for the temple treasury and observed how the crowd gave their money. Many rich people were throwing in lots of money. 42 One poor widow came forward and put in two small copper coins worth a penny. 43 Jesus called his disciples to him and said, “I assure you that this poor widow has put in more than everyone who’s been putting money in the treasury. 44 All of them are giving out of their spare change. But she from her hopeless poverty has given everything she had, even what she needed to live on.”' You can never out give God. If your heart is right and your gift is from a place of understanding and support. Have a giving heart! Blessings will abound. Joe

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arpov-blog-blog · 1 year ago

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..."As we sit here a good 11 months before the election, there has been widespread bed-wetting over the incumbent. Buckets of liberal tears have been shed. And it all seems, in my humble, liberal opinion, a bit ridiculous.

I will never, ever, ever again utter the words, “There’s no way Donald Trump becomes president.” Fool me once, and all that.

Trump could absolutely win the 2024 election. He has a sizable swath of the voting public so thoroughly brainwashed they’d follow him into an active volcano. And there are plenty of Republicans who claim they loathe him and talk a good game about protecting democracy but would still push the button for him in the privacy of a voting booth.

Democratic voters shouldn’t rest or feel confident for a second between now and the minute the polls close. There’s too much at stake. The threat of a second Trump term and the dictator-y nightmares it might bring are too great.

... but which candidate would you rather be right now?

That said, it’s absurd to look at the two candidates and think for a moment one doesn’t have the edge, and not just because Biden faces 91 fewer state and federal felony charges than Trump.

Consider these facts:

The Dow Jones Industrial Average hit an all-time high Wednesday. The S&P 500 went up 8.9% in November, one of its best monthly jumps in decades.

In the most recent jobs report, unemployment dropped to 3.7% from 3.9%. In January and April, it hit a 54-year low of 3.4%.

Biden's accomplishments as president have been significant

But Biden is president, so Democrats, as they are wont to do, grouse and moan and fret and wonder if there’s a younger, more dynamic candidate out there.

While painted by the right as doddering and inept, Biden has enacted wide-ranging legislation, from a $1 trillion infrastructure bill to the Inflation Reduction Act. He appointed the first Black woman to ever sit on U.S. Supreme Court. He signed the Respect for Marriage Act protecting same-sex and interracial marriages. He united NATO over the war in Ukraine.

And last I checked, everyone is still allowed to say, “Merry Christmas.”

Now consider Biden's opponent, the guy who wants 'Muslim ban'

The man isn’t flawless by any stretch. His age shows. He has failed to tackle illegal immigration and the dire situation along the U.S.-Mexico border. And now some liberals are furious with him for his strong support of Israel in its war against Hamas.

But let’s examine the Republican fellow Biden will almost surely be running against. For starters, if you don’t like Biden’s handling of the Middle East, wait until you see what Trump would do. This is the man who created a Muslim travel ban and has said that he'd restart that immediately. He recently said that he'd send immigration officials to “pro-jihadist demonstrations” to arrest or deport “radical anti-American and antisemitic foreigners.”

Liberals need to stop panicking about Biden and start working

I am not now nor have I ever been a passionate fan of Biden. Frankly, I’m not a fan of any politician.

But I can say objectively that if someone asked me who I’d rather be right now as a political candidate – Joe Biden or Donald Trump – it would be Biden, and it wouldn’t be even remotely close.

Perhaps my fellow liberals should stop panicking, change their bedsheets and just focus on putting in the work."

Rex Huppke, USA TODAY

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trippinsorrows · 8 months ago

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with me + part seven

authors note: i take some creative liberties with medical (mostly hipaa) stuff in this one, so please disregard. also, thank you everyone for (still!!!) being so interested in this story. you guys are making me wanna flesh it out even more like seriously 😭 i wanted to not make it past 10 (3 to 4 initially) parts but the support has been so humbling, and ya'll seem to like/want more sooooo 😭

song inspo: with me by destiny's child

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: angst, language, suggestive themes

words: 7k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

Absolutely every rule of the road is broken in getting Callie to the hospital.

You couldn’t give two shits.

You just continue to try to reassure your crying child that she's going to be okay while fighting your own pending panic attack.

Speeding through the lanes, uncaring if the light is yellow and you should slow down, you’ll take whatever ticket. The only rule you abide by is not going through a red light, understanding how stupid and dangerous that is. However, while the hospital is about a 15 to 20 minute drive from you, you make it there in a solid eight minutes.

And even that is too much.

The emergency room is, expectedly, pretty empty save a couple of people. Emergencies are rare and infrequent in your town. It’s truly a stroke of bad, cruel luck that your sweet little girl is victim to one of the few.

Rushing to the front desk, Callie cradled against you, you blurt to the receptionist, “something’s wrong with her stomach.”

The woman appears uninterested until her eyes land on Calista who’s still crying into your chest, hand on her stomach. She calls out to the back, and you see the double doors open. A few minutes later, if that, a set of doctor and nurses emerge.

“What happened?” The doctor immediately asks, starting to assess Callie, first checking for a fever and then shining a light in both her eyes.

Speaking is suddenly difficult, but you manage, “I–I don’t know. She said her stomach was hurting right before she went to bed, so I gave her some Children’s Tylenol, then she woke up in the middle of the night screaming in pain, and I–I rushed her over here.”

He nods, gently going to press on her stomach as she shouts in pain again. Your own stomach clenches, hating to see her hurt like this.

Something appears to flash in his vision, but whatever it is, he keeps it to himself. “We need to admit her.” He reaches for Callie who suddenly clings tighter to you.

“No!” There’s pure fear and panic in her voice, as she starts to cry harder. “I wanna stay with my mommy!”

Her words kill you, because you also don’t want to let her go, but you know it’s what needs to happen. “Baby, it’s okay, they’re gonna help you, and I’m right here, alright?” You try to reassure her, gently stroking her hair. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

She’s clearly still uncomfortable but allows the doctor to carry her, as he instructs one of the nurses, “page peds.” Her eyes never leave you as he moves quickly to carry her into one of the rooms, carefully placing her down on the bed. You’re immediately by her side, needing her to know you’re right here with her and not going anywhere.

While the doctor gives a variety of commands to some of the nurses, you somehow have the wherewithal to catch the attention of one of the nurses, informing, “her dad is on his way. Can you make sure they let him back? His name is Joe.”

She nods. “Of course.”

“And—” this is both relevant and irrelevant, but as it’s at the forefront of your mind, so you tell her, “I also need a release form. For him. He’s….he’s not on the birth certificate.”

If she’s judging you for this piece of information, you’ll never know because her expression remains unchanged. “I’ll have one brought to you.”

“Thank you.” It hasn’t really crossed your mind until this terrifying moment that Joe has no legal right or say into any medical or legal situations regarding Calista. This scares you in a different way, her own father having no say in decisions that could be life or death. It’s shoved into the back of your mind, but when this is all said and done, you know this it’s something you need to discuss with him.

You need to look into whatever the state requires to have a father’s name added to a birth certificate. But, of course, all of this is secondary to what’s happening before you, your focus returning to Callie who’s still holding onto your arm.

“Alright, what do we have here?”

A new voice enters the room, and you look up, momentarily surprised to see another doctor, but it’s not the fact that it’s a doctor that surprises you. It’s who the doctor is.

You give him a double take, almost not trusting your judgment in this moment. But when he approaches Callie’s side and offers a gentle smile, you see it, the cleft in his chin.

“Kai?”

He lifts his eyes to you, offering a small nod, returning his focus to assessing Callie. And then he looks up again. Like he gave you the standard acknowledgement only to also realize who you are.

“Y/N?”

Yup. Hearing his voice again, you’re certain this is most definitely Kai Sawyer.

Kai Sawyer, former classmate, once friend, brief lover when you were in high school. He was always sweet, almost too sweet for the toxic teenager you were who was too stuck on Amir to realize Kai was a much better option.

Granted, it was never serious. You never had any sort of feelings for him that left you stumped.

Nothing like with Joe.

“It’s good to see you.” He seems just as surprised to see you as you are to see him. The last you heard was that he left for school, pursuing a medical career and planned to move out of state. Kai motions to Callie. “This is your daughter?” Nodding with a small, forced smile, you watch him carefully lean down to be closer to Callie’s eye level. “Hi there, sweetie. I’m Dr. Sawyer. Can you tell me your name?”

She sniffles, seemingly holding you tighter. “Callie.”

“Callie,” he says, precisely, pronouncing each syllable. “What a very pretty name. Well, Callie, is it okay if I feel your belly so we can see what’s going on and help you feel better?”

She doesn’t look at you for approval, instead nodding as Kai starts to evaluate her. Once again, she cries out in pain as he feels the same area you’d unintentionally put too much pressure on.

“It hurts,” she whimpers, and you kiss her forehead. Seeing her in pain is a form of torture you absolutely cannot tolerate.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he apologies, standing upright again. “We’re gonna make you all better though, okay?”

She says nothing, instead tugging you closer to her as she lays her head against your shoulder.

Kai speaks to the nurses in a low voice, where you can only make out intermittent parts. Something about an IV drip and pain meds. Once he’s done, he looks over at you and continues with that low voice, “can I talk to you outside?”

His question doesn’t help with the anxiety you’re already having an extremely difficult time controlling, but Callie’s heightened cries and tightened grasp on you captures your attention the most.

“No, mommy, don’t leave me!"

It’s an impossible decision, even if logically, you know what you have to do. Whatever Kai wants to discuss with you clearly doesn’t need to be in front of Callie, but you also know she’s hurting and just wants her mom.

“You said your name is Callie? That’s such a cute name.” One of the nurses comes over and offers a warm smile. “I have a little girl who’s just about your age too. She likes barbies and playing dress up. What do you like?”

Sniffling, still holding onto you, Callie meets the nurse’s eye contact and answers after a second. “Disney.”

The nurse gasps, “so does my little girl.” She sits on the side of the bed as the other nurse finishes inserting Callie’s IV. “Is it okay if I sit with you and we talk about Disney while mama talks to Dr. Sawyer?”

You’re so thankful for this act of kindness and assure Callie, “I’ll be right back. I’m just outside the door, okay?”

She’s still unsure and highly uncomfortable, but a small nod precedes her releasing her grip on you. You start to climb out of the hospital bed when she grabs you again.

You expect another form of protest, of unease about you leaving her. Instead, in a small, innocent voice, she states, “I want Joe.”

The ball in the back of your throat grows exponentially. You’re already emotional, for obvious reasons, but there’s something about her request, so simple yet so powerfully telling, that brings a new set of tears to your eyes.

“He’s on his way, baby, okay?” As the hospital is in the same direction as his hotel, you expect his arrival in a matter of minutes, hopefully.

She seems comforted by this piece of information, and you’re able to break away to follow Kai outside the room. Once out of a proximity where she could overhear, you ask, urgently, “what’s wrong with her?”

Kai sighs, crossing his arms over his body with a sympathetic expression. “Well, I—”

The sound of heavy, urgent footsteps capture your attention, and you look to your side to see a nurse escorting Joe. His eyes land on you with a curious expression before he asks, “where is she?”

His voice is calm, but you know him well. Too well. Enough to know that he’s worried out of his mind, too.

You gesture to the door a few inches away from you. “With the nurse.” Gesturing to Kai, you inform, “this is the doctor.”

There’s something about Joe’s presence that instantly calms you, allows your emotions to regulate just a little better.

“Holy shit,” Kai breathes, and you look over to see he’s staring at Joe with bewilderment. “You’re–uh—is this her dad?” The question is posed to you, and you run your hand over your face, nodding. Kai clearly recognizes Joe, err, Roman, and is in a brief state of celebrity panic. Any other time, you’d understand it, but right now, you’re on the doorsteps of a nervous breakdown, and the medical professional in charge of Callie’s care being starstruck isn’t the least bit helpful.

“Yes,” Joe answers, his voice not unkind but not friendly either. “What’s wrong with my daughter?”

Kai clears his throat, snapping back into his professional shoes. “It seems like early stages of appendicitis. We call it acute appendicitis, meaning her appendix hasn’t ruptured yet, which is good.” He gazes at you, grateful. “You got her here just in time.”

His words do little to comfort you, because you’re still stuck on the first part.

“Appendicitis?” You repeat, confused . “But–but she’s only four. How—”

“It’s not as uncommon in children as people think. Did you by any chance have one when you were younger?”

You have to think for a second, recognition then dawning. You’d completely forgotten about that borderline traumatic experience that was eerily similar to this. Waking your mom up because you were in a tremendous amount of pain and her calling 911 to rush you to the hospital. God, how could you not remember that until now? “Yes, yes, but I was—I was like 10.”

“So still a kid,” he confirms. Kai turns to Joe. “What about dad?”

“Yeah, I was twelve.”

“Wait a minute.” You don’t know about Joe, but you certainly remember the outcome of your experience. “You—you don’t have to operate on her, right?” Scoffing, your words become difficult to express. “Kai, she’s—she’s too little for that. There’s—there’s another way, right?”

“Surgery is the best treatment—”

“No!” You cut him off, not wanting to hear this shit. “You’re not cutting her open, Kai. I–I won’t—-I won’t allow it.”

Joe finally addresses you, hand on the small of your back as he tries to get you to look at him. “Y/N….”

You jerk away, “I said no!” Turning back to Kai, you plead, eyes starting to burn again, “isn’t there—isn’t there something else you can do? Like medicine or—”

“Her appendix needs to be removed, Y/N. There’s no way around that.” Kai’s tone is full-on professional, borderline pleading, needing you to actually heed to his medical opinion. “The procedure is standard, should take about an hour, and it presents minimal risk. It’s really the best and safest option. If we don’t operate, inflammation could increase and eventually cause her appendix to rupture. Once that happens, because of her age, she becomes at an increasingly high risk for infection. And that could become fatal.”

The word fatal sounds out everything else as you fall back against the wall, covering your mouth, unable to hold back the tears. “Oh my god.”

Joe looks at Kai, directring firmly. “Do it. Do it now.”

“I’ll book an OR.” Kai nods and you hear him say something else, but it’s all so distant and blurry. Fatal and Callie should never be in the same sentence, but right now it’s a reality that you can’t fathom. Your chest hurts, your stomach hollow, and head all over the place.

“I—it’s my fault,” you murmur to yourself or maybe Joe. You’re not entirely sure. “She—she told me her stomach was upset, but I—I didn’t listen. I just—I just gave her medicine and made her go to sleep.” You inhale sharply, eyes burning with salty tears. “She was in pain, and I didn’t listen to her. I didn’t—”

“Baby, look at me.” Before you realize it, Joe is in front of you, cupping your face and forcing your blurry gaze on him. “You did nothing wrong. There was no way for you to know what was happening.”

“I’m her mother, Joe—" you protest, sniffling, hands on his chest. “I’m supposed to know when something’s wrong. I’m–I’m supposed to protect her.”

“And you did,” he assures, pushing back some of your hair. “You heard the doctor. You got her here just in time. It could have been a lot worse.” He wipes away your tears, hating to see you so upset, so hard on yourself over a situation outside of your control. “You’re an amazing mother. Do you know why she’s such a great and happy kid? Because of you. Because you take such good care of her. You’ve raised her on your own, and look at how amazing she is. That’s all you. Why else do you think she’s so attached to you? Because you’re just as much her world as she is yours.” He pulls you into his chest, continuing to gently comfort you, “she’s gonna be fine, okay?”

Being held in that moment, being held by Joe is exactly what you need. It centers you as much as one can be centered in this kind of situation. You find yourself holding onto him, embracing the comfort and support.

Eyes shut, you murmur into his chest, “thank you for being here.”

You feel his hand move gently down your back, his mouth pressed to the top of your head. “Always.”

After a few minutes, maybe more, maybe less, you separate and wipe at your eyes. “Okay.” It’s trying to gather yourself before going back in the room, not wanting to scare her or make anything worse for her than it already is. “We–we need to tell her.”

“You want me to tell her?” He offers, and you’re thankful. He clearly sees how upsetting all of this is and is eager to support you anyway he can.

“No,” you finally answer. “We’ll do it together.”

Joe takes your hand and rubs his thumb across your knuckles, a kind, comforting gesture. Appreciated. You appreciate him so fucking much in this moment that it’s almost impossible to explain. Your calm in this storm, a voice of sound reason. Much needed advocate for your daughter as you fall victim to your emotions.

He looks at you once more, assessing your readiness. A simple nod gives him the answer he needs, as he heads for the door, holding it open so you can enter first.

The same nurse who so kindly recognized a need lifts her head with that same warm smile. Your eyes immediately land on Calista, who looks less pale than she was when you brought her in. She’s also no longer crying. That relieves you the most. A mother seeing her child cry is a kind of pain no one should ever have to experience.

The pain meds must be kicking in. You’re immensely grateful.

But as quick as her eyes were on you, they bounce almost instantly to Joe, a larger smile growing.

“Joe!” Even her voice is stronger, not as weak or weighed down with pain.

“There’s my girl,” Joe greets, instantly at her side, kissing the top of her head. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“A little better, but my tummy still hurts.”

Allowing them their moment, you turn to the nurse who’s subtly backed away, also recognizing this is a moment that shouldn’t be intruded upon. She also subtly reaches you the clipboard with the ROI that you quickly fill out and hand back to her. “Thank you,” you whisper, hoping your eyes reveal just how much you appreciate her thoughtfulness.

“Of course,” she replies, giving a final look to Callie. “I’ll leave you all alone.”

Once the door is shut and it’s just the three of you, you move to the other side of the hospital bed, seeing there’s a possible space to jump in and gently break the news to her. A shared glance with Joe followed by a nod is the answer you need as you take a deep breath.

“Calista….” As soon as she gazes at you, you recognize she knows something is up. You hardly ever use her full first name. “Baby, Joe and I talked to the doctor about what he needs to do to make you all better, and—and he said you’ve gotta have surgery to take the bad stuff out your stomach.”

Her brows cave together, confused. “What’s surgery?”

Joe jumps in, recognizing your initial difficulty with how to explain such a concept to a young child. “It’s when doctors give you medicine to make you go to sleep while they take the bad stuff out of you.”

She looks at him, a little more understanding, still obviously and understandably unsure. “Does it hurt?”

You answer, trying your best to keep your tone as calm as possible. “When you wake up, it may hurt a little but that’s cause it’s gotta heal.”

Joe shares, and you’re so grateful for his partnership at this moment. For his ability to assist and tag team. “You wanna know something? Your mom and I had the same surgery when we were kids.”

She seems intrigued by this. “Really?” Nodding, you study her facial expressions, knowing her well enough to know that she’s struggling with her emotions. She’s not alone.

Finally, after a minute of contemplation, she whispers, “I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared, Callie,” Joe assures. He's so damn good with her, gentle and patient. “Everyone gets scared.”

She looks over at him, asking innocently, “even you?”

“Of course,” he answers, vulnerably sharing, “I was scared when your mom called me and said she was taking you to the hospital.” The both of you were. That’s no call any parent wants to ever receive.

She looks between the two of you. “Can you guys come with me?”

“We can’t go back with you, but we’ll be waiting right here for you as soon as you wake up.” Joe answers for you, thumb brushing over her forehead.

“You promise?”

Lips pressed against her forehead, you vow, “we promise.”

—-------

As soon as Callie is taken back to the OR and the two of you are left alone in the waiting area, Joe begins to lift his hoodie over his head, suddenly reaching it to you. “Put this on.”

You look at him, confused. “What?”

His eyes briefly trail your body, head to toe. “Do you realize what you're wearing?”

Brows furrowed, you look down and gasp. In the midst of adrenaline and flight or flight, your appearance never dawned on you. Your pajama set is short, skimpy, and shows off a slice of your stomach, not that you care too much about that. It’s more the fact that you’re not wearing a bra, and this waiting room is cold as fuck.

You also realize your bonnet is still on your head.

In short, you look a hot ass mess, more like someone waiting for admission to the psych ward instead of an anxious parent awaiting her daughter to get out of surgery.

“Fuck.” The first thing you do is rip your bonnet off, deciding to keep your pineapple. Next is accepting Joe’s hoodie, sliding it over your frame. It’s understandably baggy, grazing just above your knees. “Thank you.”

The two of you move over to the seating area as you sigh loudly, suddenly asking. “What time is it?”

He checks the watch on his wrist. “3:15.”

You scoff, rubbing your eyes but not saying anything, leaning back into the seat, trying to not get too much into your head. It’s a difficult feat when your four-year-old child is under the knife for emergency surgery.

“The doctor…..” Joe starts, and you turn to look at him. “You called him by his first name.”

He doesn’t need to elaborate for you to understand his question. “We went to high school together.” If your intention was to keep your answer as casual and general as possible, you fail miserably because Joe 100% picks up on the unspoken words.

“And?”

Shrugging, you explain, “we didn’t date per se, but we hooked up.” Looking back, you recognize how Kai was absolutely a rebound in between Amir and all his bullshit. And you do regret that, because Kai was always a genuinely nice guy. He didn't deserve to be caught up in your Joker-Harley Quinn ‘love’ story.

“Fucking hell.” Joe looks away, genuinely annoyed, and for some reason, it makes you smile. The first of the night, err, morning. And you’re weirdly thankful for this conversation, for this distraction you wonder if he's intentionally providing you. “Do all your ex’s still live here? Why does nobody ever leave this town?”

You laugh, actually laugh, and it feels nice. A contrast from all of the heaviness you’ve experienced over the past few hours.

Sucking your teeth, you respond, sassily. “I’m tired of you roasting my tiny little no name town.”

He eyes you curiously, clearly surprised by your reference. “You watch?”

“Occasionally,” you answer with a shrug. You don’t want to tell him you’ve found yourself increasingly watching Bloodline clips during the kids' lunchtime at school. Or at night when you don’t know what else to watch. Not when before his return, it was rare and in between you’d find yourself consuming anything WWE related, let alone with Roman Reigns. “Not a lot. Just enough to see how you’re doing exactly what I always knew you could do.”

Joe stares, appreciatively, gently adding, “you always believed in me.”

“Of course, I did.” It’s always been so visible and obvious. From the very beginning, you recognized his potential and knew he would excel once they finally released him from his shackles. You find yourself leaning against his body and grab onto his arm. “I could never have a bum for a baby daddy.”

You don’t have to be looking at him to know he’s rolling his eyes, that expression of his that’s a mixture of a scowl and smile.

He doesn’t say anything after that, not immediately, and that’s okay, because just sitting here, with him, not alone and in your head is a great comfort.

“She has my last name.”

You look up at him, surprised and confused as to why he’s saying this like he didn’t already know it. But it’s in that looking at him, you see it’s because he clearly didn’t already know this.

He was unaware.

Sitting up, you ask, “you didn't know?”

He shakes his head, explaining, “when I got here, I said I was here for Calista, and she said Calista Anoa’i.” That’s it. How he found out. How his daughter, who he hadn’t even known about up until not even two months ago, shared the same last name as him. All of these major life reveals being dropped on him like it’s nothing.

You feel terrible again, just for different reasons.

“I never wanted to erase you from her life. I just—” It’s hard to explain something you’re starting to not even fully understand. In such a short timespan, Joe has done a tremendous job stepping into the role of dad. So much so that it has you deeply regretting depriving him of the almost first five years of her life.

Depriving yourself of having a partner to raise Callie with.

“I just went about it all wrong,” is the best you can land on to describe what you’re thinking and feeling. “And I'm sorry you found out like this. I guess, I just thought it would have come up by now.”

“It’s fine.” It’s not. He’s just trying to be mindful of where you are emotionally right now. Always considerate, despite his own feelings.

Grabbing a hold of his arm, you lean into him again, eventually murmuring, “no, it’s not.” You’re starting to feel more and more like there was never a good enough reason to rob him of this, to have a child walking around this earth with his last name, his blood, and him be in the dark. Him being married was a factor, but it wasn’t a firm reason. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t ha—”

“Yes, I do,” you interrupt him, already knowing he’s going to try to pacify you, to try to convince you that it wasn’t that bad. Bullshit. “You missed out on so much, because of me, and I’m truly sorry, Joe. My own shit got i—”

“Excuse me?”

You sit upright, attention automatically redirected to the Caucasian woman in front of you with a bad bleach job, crows feet that probably contrast her actual age, and a clipboard. It’s the damn clipboard that kills your thought that maybe Callie is out her surgery and you guys can see her.

Wishful thinking.

“Bill it,” is your short, curt reply as you lay back down against Joe’s arm. His eyes are on you, curious.

The woman gives a small, fake laugh. “Excuse me?”

“You’re here to discuss insurance shit, right?” Her silence is the answer you need. “Well, I’m telling you to bill my insurance and then send me a bill.”

She extends a more authentic smile to Joe, and you almost could swear you see the faintest hint of blush on her pale face. “Well, aren’t you three steps ahead?” When you don’t say anything, she awkwardly clears her throat and continues. “I actually wanted to know if you’d like to take advantage of this really great option we have where we give you an estimated cost and accept payment now so that—”

“Lady, my daughter is in surgery right now. I don’t give a scathing fuck about your great option. Bill it, and get the hell away from us.” Your words are blunt, coarse, and very much to the point. You couldn’t give two shits about anything she has to say if it’s not regarding Callie being out, up, and all better.

Joe chuckles above you, still saying nothing, just watching her walk away with her tail between her legs. “You had some restraint. I’m proud of you.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, eyes closing as you try to allow yourself to bask in the comfort he provides. It’s such a different experience. The last time you had to rush Callie to the ER, she was two, your mom was out of town on a women’s retreat, and Mariah was off on her honeymoon. It was just you, by yourself, waiting to find out what the hell was wrong with your toddler.

Having someone with you in this moment, having him with you, means more to you than he could ever imagine.

“How’d you come up with her name?” He asks after a few moments of silence.

This brings a smile to your face, a genuine one that you actually feel in your body. “A book.”

“Like a baby name book?” You should have known better. Joe is many things, a man of specificity being pretty high up there.

You hesitate to respond. “Not exactly.”

He glances down, assessing your expression before tilting his head back. “You didn’t.”

“Hear me out.”

“Did you seriously name our daughter after some character from one of your freaky ass sex books?” You’re grateful for the little laughter this conversation provides you, and it makes you realize how much this man must have missed you to remember that. To remember your guilty pleasure for smutty kindle books. Not so much as you’ve gotten older and just genuinely don’t have the time to read them.

Resting your chin against his massive arm, you defend, “first of all, rude. Secondly, it wasn’t even that freaky. Unfortunately.” He rolls his eyes and you continue, “the character was actually really interesting and not awful. And I’d never heard the name Calista before, so when I looked it up and saw it meant most beautiful….it just fit.” Toward the end of your pregnancy was when you fully allowed yourself to embrace being a mother, regardless of the circumstances. It was a blessing and beautiful experience, and you found yourself counting down the days until your due date. “Her middle name is Manaia.”

He chuckles, softly. “That’s Samoan.”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you rest your cheek against him again. “I know…I told you, she’s just as much you as she is me.”

—-------

Joe approaches the front desk, seeing a brunette woman scrolling on her phone with a bored expression. Understandable, given the room is empty sans a janitor making the rounds. It’s probably the first and last empty emergency room he’ll ever come across.

“Excuse me.”

She looks up, and her mouth parts, an instant smile growing. One he’s used to but wholeheartedly couldn’t care less about.

“Hi.” Her tone is much more breathy than what’s necessary, some attempt at coming off flirtatious would be his guess. Zero shits are still given.

Joe doesn’t waste any time, already wanting to get back to you, even if he knows you went to go call your mom and let her know what happened. Still, he needs to, at the very least, get back before he has to feed you some bullshit excuse about where he was. “I need to add a new card on file for Calista Anoa’i.”

She leans forward, chin in her hand, uneven, needle thin eyebrows wiggling. “Are you dad?”

Obviously. “Yes.”

“Lucky kid.” He’d take a good guess that she doesn’t recognize him, which for that, he’s grateful. She just finds him attractive, which is still irritating and unprofessional as hell. Have an attraction, but don’t be so vocal and desperate. “Mom too.”

Ignoring her comment, he grabs his wallet, pulling out his card and sliding it over.

“Do—”

“Change it to the default payment,” he instructs, not in the mood for whatever else she wants to try. It’s all in vain. He has eyes for one woman only, and it certainly isn’t her. “Is there any way you can set it up for autopay?”

She gives Joe a strange expression, like she questions his ability to consent. Because no one in their right mind would authorize a hospital to have such power with their money. “Umm, we can, but it’s really not recommended because you can never guarantee just how much insurance will and won’t cover. So, if they deny the claim in its entirety, then they’ll charge the entire balance—”

“That’s fine,” he cuts her off. “Just do it, and make sure any future charges go to that card only.” He thinks about it, asking, “matter of fact, can you take mom’s card off file altogether?” Joe knows you’re gonna bite his head off for this, and he doesn’t care. He knows medical bills can get costly, and you’re not making bank on a teacher’s salary. The least he can do is take care of his daughter’s medical costs.

“Uhh, sure, as long as you understand—”

“Money isn’t an issue. At all. Do it.”

She shakes her head but types away eventually reaching Joe his card. “All done. You can call and change it at any—”

“I won’t.” And that’s a fact. “Thank you.”

Joe doesn’t give her a chance to respond or try anything else, turning to head back to the waiting area and is relieved when you return only minutes after he’s sat down.

“Well, as expected, she’s upset I didn’t call her but calmed down a little bit when I told her you’ve been here with me,” you catch him up, sitting down next to him again. “And she’s on her way. She wants us to go back to my place to get some sleep.”

Immediately, he protests. “We can’t leave Callie.”

You open your mouth to mostly agree with him when you hear footsteps and feel your stomach flutter seeing Kai heading in your direction.

He gets straight to the point. “Surgery was successful. She’s gonna be fine.” There are no words to properly describe your relief. The past hour felt like the longest period of your life and to know that it wasn’t in vain is so utterly comforting.

“Thank God,” you breathe, also standing up with Joe. “Thank you, Kai.” You briefly close your eyes, shaking your head and correcting yourself. “I’m sorry, uhh. Dr. Sawyer.”

“Come on, Y/N. I’ll always just be Kai to you.” It’s said so innocently, and it’s also then you notice the wedding band on his left hand. But, Joe must be giving him a look, because he’s suddenly awkwardly clearing his throat. “Because she’s so young, I'd like to keep her a couple more days to monitor her.”

“Of course,” you agree. There’s no protest at your daughter having medical personnel surrounding her at all times following a surgical procedure.

He nods and starts to walk away when you remember something, catching him and moving away from Joe to speak privately.

“Ummm…..” you haven't a clue how to approach nor explain this but try your best. “Joe…..he’s just now in her life. She—she doesn’t even know he’s her dad. It’s….a long, complicated story, but we’re trying to keep everything private—”

He says your name, interrupting you, “ever heard of HIPAA? None of what happened tonight leaves this emergency room.” You nod, slightly assured. “And if it makes you feel any better, I’ll remind the nurses of that too.’

That gives you all of the relief. The last thing you want or need is this becoming fodder for the media. One of the many reasons you love your town is how off the grid it is with a lot of things. Most of them probably wouldn’t even recognize Joe, and the few who do would never dare speak of it outside of this same town, respecting that he’s still a human being.

“Thank you, Kai. Seriously.”

He offers you such a genuine smile and adds, “I’m glad I got to see you, Y/N. The circumstances weren’t the best, but I’m pleased to see you ended up happy.” He starts to walk backwards, adding with a slight smirk. “About time you moved on from the likes of Amir and Mariah.”

That throws you for a loop. You understand the part about Amir, but Mariah?

What did he mean by that?

You don’t really have time to think about it, because Joe is at your side, holding your hand and reminding you that you two need to get back in the room for Callie. That’s enough to put the confusion about what just occurred to the back burner.

Thankfully, when they roll Callie back into her room, she’s still slightly out of it from the anesthesia. But when she comes to, she’s thrilled to see the both of you and announces in a small, proud voice, “I did it.”

It gives you another genuine laugh, and the two of you enjoy her, your brave, sweet little girl.

As you expected, your mom enters the room, immediately going and comforting Callie. She gives you a little slap on your arm for not calling her, still upset about that.

That’s also expected.

What isn’t entirely expected is your mom talking to Callie about why you and Joe need to go home for a little bit to rest because you’re tired too. She’s not entirely wrong, Now that you’re out of the flight of it all, you’re crashing and crashing hard. Even Joe looks tired.

Surprisingly, your mom is able to get Callie to agree with this. It takes more convincing for Joe, but he also eventually relents. And instead of driving all the way to your place, you suggest you two just go to his hotel room which is closer to the hospital.

That’s an easy sell for him.

Reaching the hotel, you convince Joe to shower first, as you have something you need to take care of. It takes some convincing, but he eventually agrees. Once you hear the shower running, you pull out your phone, surprised to see it hasn’t died and has enough, hopefully, for you to shoot out one more message.

One you’ve been putting off, but desperately need, especially as of the last 24 to 48 hours.

Alexis,

Hi. I know it’s been a couple of weeks since my last email, and I’m sorry. I would text you, but I have no idea where in the world you are right now or if you have reception. So, email it is. A lot….a lot has happened. Joe is back in the picture, and he knows about Callie. But, interestingly enough, that’s not an issue at all. He’s so good with her, and she already clearly loves him so much. We haven’t told her he’s her dad, but he plans to do it for Christmas. Callie also had to have emergency surgery last night. Her appendix. That was….a lot. She’s good now, made it out of surgery fine. Thank God. Also, Joe’s divorced. And he more or less told me he wants us to be together, and I don’t know how to feel about that. Sorry, this is all over the place. Joe and I have been up all night with Callie at the hospital, so my brain isn’t working. I just needed to send this now, because I keep forgetting, and I miss you and could really use some advice right now. I need my long distance best friend.

Love,

Your favorite college roomie

You should probably reread your email before sending it, but that requires energy, and you’re literally operating on fumes. When Joe steps out of the bathroom, shirtless, you don’t even bat an eye, which is unlike you. You’ve always been insanely attracted to him, for obvious reasons.

You just accept the shirt he offers, close the bathroom door, strip naked and step into the shower. So exhausted, you don’t even realize until halfway through you forgot to use the shower cap but thankfully only a little bit of your hair gets wet.

Not that it matters. Even washing yourself is such a task.

You’re out of the shower as soon as you feel adequately clean, rid of hospital germs. You don’t even care that the shirt is the only thing covering your otherwise nude body, breast stretching against the cotton.

It is what it is.

Stepping out of the bathroom with your clothes tucked under your side, you settle on placing them on a nearby chair. Or maybe it’s a table. You’re not too sure nor do you care all that much. You just need to sleep.

But, it’s also when you see he’s moving toward the sofa, you know you need something else.

Someone.

“Joe.”

He turns around, and you move over to him, reaching for his hand. The tug is slight but enough to have him follow your guidance toward the bed where you switch positions so he falls on his back. Moving to the side of the mattress, you climb into the bed and turn on your side, back toward him. You don’t need to ask, because his strong arm is suddenly around you, pulling you into his hard chest.

Sighing in content, you allow his mouth to graze your temple as he pulls the blankets over the both of you.

Hand on his thick forearm that’s keeping you close against him, you murmur, “Callie comes first. We get her straight, make sure she’s okay.” You roll on your back, meeting his telling gaze. “Then we figure out us.”

Joe is staring down at you with an affection you hadn’t realized you missed so deeply until this moment. He doesn’t say anything, just nods in acknowledgment and caresses your cheek. Grateful and tired of so much thinking, you push your body against his, shifting with him as moves onto his back and keeps you close against him.

He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you, because none of that matters in that moment. You don’t need to think about anything, don’t want to think about anything, just want to be close to him, just be with the man you’re almost certain now that you never stopped loving.

And also now wonder if he once felt the same, still feels the same.

If he’s always felt the same way.

#roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #roman reigns x black!oc #arisnotebook

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caskethrill · 3 years ago

Text

the cowboy next door 𝜗𝜚

pairing: jack daniels x virgin f!reader

summary: a retired jack is left with too much time on his hands, but thankfully your bedroom window makes for great entertainment.

warnings: stalking, masturbation, spitting, dacryphilia, dumbification, degradation, unprotected sex, choking, manhandling, breeding, corruption, age gap (reader is 20). just creepy, suburban jack.

word count: 6.8k

authors note: the more i read this the more it sounds like joe goldberg cowrote it

read part two here.

the picket had been wobbling for weeks, the small creaks and squeaks never going unnoticed by jack’s sharp ears. he pushed it off day by day, planning to tackle the small chore each time he hopped out of his shiny bronco and waltzed up his doorstep. still, it always got pushed to the bottom of his list for one reason or another. he graciously allowed creatures to use it as a gateway from yard to yard, but when his trash began to turn up ravaged through, he ruled that he could avoid it no more— although he’d recently retired and relocated to his own little corner of suburbia, he didn’t want to live out his work-free mornings picking up trash. he didn’t seem to care that it was one of the hottest days of the floridian summer; he cared that he got this fence over and done with.

with a plop, jack’s belt fell flat on the ground, cluttered with a variety of tools— half of which he probably didn’t need this time around. instead, he entrusted the hammer gripped in his calloused palm, prying at the rusted nails that bounded the family of pickets together. in his free hand, he grasped the maple brown wood; it wiggled from the constant brunt of abuse rooted at the bottom of the plank. jack quietly cursed the small animals in comparison to “sons of bitches” just as he gave the piling one final tug.

snap!

jack quickly realized he’d made a rather big mistake. the fact he could make out his neighbour’s entire backyard suggested as such, making his fence a wide-open invitation for any creature in need of passage— karma, he assumed. letting out a frustrated sigh, jack pushed himself up off of the ground and snatched up the piece of scrap of wood to take with him. the next stop was his car keys, and after that, the nearest hardware store.

he returned a mere forty-five minutes later with a shiny new edition and some nails, finding his spot back on the green grass in his backyard. he latched his belt back around his waist and tossed his hat to rest idly upon one of the stakes, dropping to his denim-clad knees to get a better look at what he was working with. however, jack was pleasantly surprised to find his view of the next yard over accompanied by you.

in the time he’d gone, you’d come. one of the few things jack failed to notice about you was your green thumb. as a spy, it became hard for him to ignore such minuscule details; you were an only child with the typical parish-pump parents. from what he could tell (and he could always tell), you never left your house looking for a party, which humbly surprised jack. he knew you waited at the bus stop every morning for college, and what college girl doesn’t party? you sometimes read in the backyard, which he oversaw from his bedroom window. his beautiful, treasured bedroom window that was directly parallel to yours. while he couldn’t guess your age, it was reassuring the few times he’d gotten a peek at the florida state poster that hung over your bed, paired with a “happy 20th birthday” sign he could only assume was written by a child. a pretty young thing such as yourself should know better than to leave your blinds open so late, he’d think. as he drank in the sight of you, he’d come to realize he had either pushed off this chore for much too long, or the gods had decided today was his lucky day.

because there you were, begging for his attention, bent over in a floral-adorned sundress. the hem brushed against the soft, supple flesh of your thighs as the breeze danced with the cotton fabric. you fought with invasive weeds that engulfed your meticulously grown marigolds, dirt swallowing your hands and cramming under your fingernails. your knees had developed small patches of green, dyed from the very ground that had started to make them ache. you constantly shifted further forward in an attempt to ease the pain, falling back onto your heels with a defeated huff every few minutes. this only egged jack on, giving him just the kind of show he wanted. in his imagination, you knew he was there.

and that breeze— curse that breeze, jack thought. he couldn’t help but beg the wind to pick up, to give him a better view of what beauty he knew you hid under that dress— but his prayers fell on deaf ears. he considered returning to his little project tomorrow to make you more comfortable and maybe to save himself a hospital trip for a crushed thumb from the flat, steel head of his hammer, but jack was gluttonous. he couldn’t bear the thought of tearing his eyes from you.

peeking through the sliver of space, he could feel his cock swell, forcing his pants to tighten and his weight to shift. he knew this wasn’t right, but since when did he allow morals to guide his decisions? jack sporadically decided it might just be better to replace the entire picket, and wordlessly, he grabbed the wood with both hands and heaved.

the loud crack forced your head to snap back toward your neighbour, his presence having gone entirely unknown until now. the hand that was just gripping at the stems of your beloved flowers now clutched your chest, eyes mimicking your stance— they were wide with terror.

“sorry, darlin’. didn’t mean to scare you.” he dipped his head down, a bashful smile splitting his face.

it wasn’t the first time jack had spoken to you.

you’d once hopped off the bus to have the first glimpse of your new neighbour accompanied by the gritty sound of classic country radio— bent over the popped hood of his vintage ford bronco, toned muscles on display in the same skintight, white wife-beater he wore now. beads of sweat had gathered at his hairline, and instead of using the grease rag that draped over his shoulder, he opted to bunch up the fabric that clung desperately to his torso to wipe his damp forehead. when you found the will to peek up from his exposed abdomen, you found him already gazing at you with a knowing smirk. before he had a chance to put that southern drawl of his to good use, you quickly retreated into your house and slammed the door behind you, back pressed against the portal while you desperately tried to regain your composure.

it was only a few days following that you had missed that same bus by just a few moments— your alarm forgot to ring, and you spent five minutes too long searching for the study notes you’d misplaced the night before. and by what you assumed to be by chance, your eye candy of a neighbour had just pulled out of his garage.

“seems you’re in need of a ride, huh?” he punctuated his words with a shove of his passenger door, leaving it wide open for your taking. his charming smile and thick kentucky accent further flustered you.

“i don’t take rides with strangers.” you had nervously countered, in which the mysterious man frowned with reason, muttered out a “smart girl”, and offered up his large hand.

“jack daniels. what’s your name, doll?” he peered at you through the thin frames of his glasses.

you thought for a moment, before figuring he already knew where you lived, what harm would your name do?

“well, it’s your lucky day! it would seem we’re not really strangers anymore, wouldn’t it?” he grinned, giving the seat next to him an inviting pat.

you considered, fighting to avoid his hopeful gaze. instead, you flashed him a polite smile and managed out a “it was nice to meet you, jack”. unbeknownst to him, you were searching for an excuse to miss class. when he offered you a curt tip of his hat, you could tell there were no hard feelings.

there wasn’t much else to say about your neighbour jack. he kept to himself for the most part, and noting how many times you’d spared a subtle glance at his ring finger, he definitely wasn’t married. you didn’t see much of him besides the occasional nod of acknowledgement or charming smile in passing. somedays, if you were lucky, he’d tell you to have a nice day followed by some vivacious pet name— you chalked it up to southern hospitality. if you were honest with yourself, the mystery surrounding your neighbour only further enticed you. the blank slate left too much room for your imagination.

“i was gonna fix up this fence, hopefully, save some of your pretty flowers there from the little bastards diggin’ through my garbage, but i don’t wanna ruin your— uh, zen, if you will.”

the offer coaxed a giggle from your lips, finally finding the courage to meet his gaze. his smile matched yours. “that’s okay, jack. i’m not bothered.”

with that, he gathered a couple of nails in his palm, taking one between his teeth and the other between his thumb and forefinger, aligning his hammer for his first hit.

you would quickly regret your reassurance and dismissive wave of hand, as with every few swings the older man took was followed by a throaty grunt— you blamed the delusional half of you that had begun to wonder if it was intentional, while the remaining was just glad to have your imagination fed. the many times you laid in bed with jack in mind, hand shoved eagerly down the tight fabric of your jeans, you had nothing apart from his voice and that salacious smirk of his to drive you over the edge, and while he was simply fulfilling a daily task and you enjoying your gardening, the last thing on your mind was “zen”. with each glance you spared his way, the hotter you grew. his arms were tanned and flexed, brows knitted together in focus, and the thick veins in his hand had begun to bulge from the tight grip he held on the shaft of his hammer.

abruptly, you pushed yourself back onto your heels and stood, clapping off the excess dirt on your hands and soothing out your dress. when you disappeared, jack had wondered if he’d scared you off, but it wasn’t long before you’d returned with two icy glasses of lemonade.

“thirsty?” you offered, noticing the way his hair was caught by his damp forehead and flattened by the heat.

“parched,” he mentioned, hiding the shock that threatened to overtake his expression when you gestured for him to make his way over to your yard. he didn’t leave room for hesitation, dropping his tools and travelling the short distance down his driveway and up yours. he noted neither your father nor mother’s cars were parked, leaving you all to him.

you surprised yourself by inviting jack over, but you definitely needed the cool-down, and after your sudden exit, it seemed like the polite thing to do. although, as you watched him approach, you felt your stomach tighten with nerves or lust— which, you weren’t sure. with no suv between you, you noticed how tall he stood and how broad his shoulders really were. you swallowed thickly, hoping your not-so-subtle interest in your neighbour went unnoticed. gazing up at his face, you realized he couldn’t be much younger than your father, and it was then you began to criticize your actions; what man of his stature wouldn’t pick up a little school girl crush?

inviting him over for lemonade, really? might as well start your own stand.

nonetheless, you offered him a shy smile and held out a glass, which he accepted with a playful wink. “bless your heart, little girl.”

your head quickly turned in the opposite direction, feigning a short cough to hide the blush that bloomed up your neck. you were ashamed to admit what such simple words did to you. before taking a sip of your beverage, you offered him a seat on the shaded patio.

“you go to florida state, don’t you?”

the sentence alone was enough to make your insides twist. you didn’t wear any paraphernalia— you found it to be rather tacky; it was for mothers to brag at luncheons and book clubs, and that was it.

“how do you know?” you asked obliviously, head tilting into your right shoulder once you’d taken a seat at his side. while you figured he was just making conversation, you couldn’t help but feel skeptical. if anything, your mother could have mentioned it to him the time she’d stopped by to offer him a homemade cherry pie, her specialty and go-to neighbourly welcome.

“the bus you take,” he mentioned carelessly, almost tricking you into believing he was just observant. still, the subtle smirk that threatened his lips and the knowing look in his eye made you think otherwise. “it stops at florida state, and you do not look old enough to be a professor.”

“oh,” you mumbled dumbly. “i go there, yes.”

you almost jumped in response to the chuckle that erupted from the chest next to you. “don’t be so scared, sugar, i don’t bite.”

you couldn’t tell if it was tension or if the air was just thick, but you smiled nonetheless.

jack savoured the fruity refreshment over your polite conversation regarding your studies and his “work”, making sure to milk the time he got by your side. when you weren’t looking, he took advantage of your closeness by memorizing every detail of your body; he’d noticed your breasts were perfect, like two soft scoops of haagen dazs ice cream. once he finally finished off the last few drops of the homemade delicacy, he offered his compliments and thanks, pushing himself up to stand.

“you know, i think it would be a bit easier for me to finish from this side of the fence, would that bother you?” he lied, and you agreed.

you had returned to your gardening, turning on the radio on the stained-glass patio table-top to fill the comfortable silence that had developed. you weren’t so nervous anymore, or at least until you’d heard the sound of cotton sliding against skin. your attention turned to jack, watching as he tugged the white top over his head, giving you a close-up of what had left you squirming all night all those weeks ago.

“like what you see, pumpkin?” his tone was proud, looking down at you with a cocked brow. the shirt disappeared to hang over the fence, resting alongside his hat.

oh.

while you hadn’t realized you had completely abandoned your marigolds to stare at his physique, it dawned upon you that he was doing this on purpose. he was teasing you. he wanted to see how easily he could fluster you; the grunting, the flexing, the pet names, and now, his half-naked body. and darn you, jack daniels, because it was most definitely working.

you froze, mouth gaping like a fish desperate for water. before you could find your words, he let out a throaty laugh. “don’t get all shy on me now, it’s nothin’ you haven’t seen before.”

you could feel a familiar pulse form between your legs, begging for attention despite the embarrassment that shone through your cheeks.

“when’s your daddy gon’ be home?” jack asked casually, turning his muscular back to you as he returned to his work. he’d met both of your parents out of courtesy when he’d first arrived in town, but unfortunately for him, he’d timed himself wrong, and you’d just left.

he took your confused silence as an invitation to continue. “i think he and i should have a talk about that window of yours. maybe we should get you some curtains, huh? wouldn’t want anyone seeing anything, right?” he peeked over his shoulder to gauge your reaction.

and there it was, the same knowing smirk he gave you that afternoon in his driveway. the same knowing smirk he flashed you when he asked about florida state.

it hit you like a tone of bricks; the fear, the confusion, and most of all, the arousal. all of the times you’d felt eyes on you in the safety of your own home, it was him. you realized why you didn’t see much of him and raised the question of how you’d never seen him standing in the frame parallel to yours. you weren’t stupid enough to not realize his bedroom window was there, but he always had his blinds shut… didn’t he?

tears stung your eyes, wanting nothing more than to push yourself up from the ground to run inside, but your entire body fell weak.

your neighbour let out a long sigh as if he was unimpressed by your lack of reply, dropping his hammer to the ground and turning to face you. the sound made you flinch. “the afternoon you saw me working on my vehicle, what did you do when you got inside?”

his face was painted with a shit-eating grin. your entire body burned with humiliation, unable to meet his eyes, even as he crouched down to your level. in contrast with his mocking words, his hand raised to gently cup your cheek, easing the hot skin with the rough pad of his thumb.

“come on, princess, go on an’ say it. it’s a simple question. just tell me what you did,” jack coaxed in a soft tone, quickly turning much more hostile as he spat his following words, “or did you want me to see you? see how you wanted me fuck you like the whore you so badly want to be?”

his chest buzzed with accomplishment when a whimper spilled from your mouth, grabbing at your jaw to force your gaze onto his. “did that get you off, huh? thinking about me on top of you?”

you nodded shamefully, a handful of embarrassed tears slipping down your cheeks.

he always wondered if you’d been touched before, but judging by how you squirmed even at the mercy of your own hands, he had his own assumptions. the thought of deflowering you made him throb against the fabric of his briefs, looking down into your wide doe-eyes with a toothy grin. “ain’t that sweet?” he cooed, moving his thumb to trace the bottom of your two plump lips. as if by reflex, your mouth opened like an invitation.

he watched as his digit sunk onto your hot, wet tongue and took that as consent to run his free palm back and into your hair. the hesitance in your eyes told him all that he needed to know, more than elated to give you the guidance you so badly craved.

“such a good girl, aren’t you?” this time, it was a rhetorical question. he knew how good you were— he knew how pretty you looked when you were fucked out at your own hand, he knew how you pleaded for your own orgasm to come with no one else in the room, and how you looked spread across your bed with your legs wide and welcoming. he knew it all too well— fuck, he admittedly looked forward to each night spent sitting at the edge of his bed, bucking into his own fist and imagining it was you he was filling.

the first time he’d seen you was an honest mistake. his first day in the neighbourhood was spent unloading boxes, and the florida heat definitely had not been kind to him. his new home had sat empty for a few months too long, and while he’d been warned the air conditioner wouldn’t be up and running for another few days, he didn’t think it was anything he couldn’t handle. jack was quickly both humbled and sweltered.

his bedtime routine consisted of cracking open every window in the house, the last stop being his bedroom. he yanked the blinds upward and fought with the old frame— he was beginning to think his modest purchase had been a mistake, but he’d retract that thought quicker than he could say it aloud. there you stood in his direct line of vision, your cluttered schoolwork and heaps of laundry falling into the background as he allowed his eyes to drag up and down your figure. judging by the pearls of moisture that dropped from your skin and the plush towel that hugged your body, you’d just returned from the shower. he swore to himself that it was just an innocent observation at first, but he hadn’t peeled his gaze from you when the fabric dropped, and by then, it was impossible to listen to reason before the painful throb between his legs.

within the first week, he’d memorized your routine through the concealed gaps of his blinds; you left for class before the crack of dawn and returned just before dusk. his favourite part was watching you calmly approach your front door as if you weren’t burning to run up the stairs and lock yourself in your room until you poured all of your school-girl frustrations out through a release. he figured out exactly what you wanted and needed from the countless times he watched your own hand close around your throat, the way you teased yourself and shoved your face into your pillow to keep the sounds he imagined were so heavenly from meeting your parents’ ears— he’d memorized every measly detail and twitch of your naked body before you’d even seen his face.

he surprised himself at his own constraint. he had learned things about himself he’d never known when he became shamefully addicted to watching you— such a young, inexperienced little thing just desperate for corruption. he figured you so lucky that you had him for a neighbour and no one else.

jack didn’t think anything would ever compare to the first time he came at the sight of you, but now that he gazed down at you on your knees, he considered otherwise.

your lips had closed around his digit, forcing a dissatisfied grunt from jack’s lips. the hand tangled in your hair was quickly squeezed into a fist, yanking at the silky strands to pull your head back. he clutched at your jaw with the leverage of his thumb, forcing your mouth wide open, just how he wanted it. a quiet cry elicited from your throat as he leaned forward, dipping down close enough for your noses to mingle. his cheeks had hallowed ever so slightly before spitting. he pulled back to watch it slide back toward your throat, using his finger to massage the saliva into your wet muscle. he noticed the drool pooling at the corner of your lips, and with that, he yanked his hand back and clamped it over your mouth. he waited until he saw a tear or two spill from your eyes. “go on, then, swallow it.”

by the tone in his near-whisper, you could tell how much he was really enjoying this, and you’d be telling the lie of the century if you tried to deny that you were. you did as you were told, taking a gulp of air the second his palm retreated to your upper arm. before he could ask, your mouth remained open for inspection. he let out a satisfied hum, caressing the flesh of your shoulder.

“i always knew you would be so good for me.” jack praised, his gentle approach contrasting with the sudden heave of your arm that lifted you from the ground and sent you slamming face-first into the fence he just spent his afternoon fixing. the hand that was once in your hair had fallen to the nape of your neck, while the other moved to grip both wrists behind your back. you couldn’t move. he basked in your impulsive snivel, leaning forward until his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “what did you think about every night, knuckle deep in your own cunt?” a moment of silence followed, spent searching for words through your fogged brain— you couldn’t decide to focus on the throbbing of your cheek or the strong heartbeat between your legs. “did you think about me, baby? because i can’t count how many times i’ve fucked my fist looking between those pretty thighs of yours.” he muttered, head falling forward to graze his lips along the pulse of your neck. his hips just ghosted your bottom, and it took every muscle to refrain from pushing back into him.

a sudden thwap! ripped you from your fantasies, drawing out another cry from your throat. “i asked you a question, little girl. i expect to be answered. i think you’re more than capable of using that mouth of yours, aren’t you?”

“yes, sir,” you gasped, pushing your ass back into his palm which soothed the reddening patch of skin he’d just smacked. your eyes fell shut as you pressed your forehead into the picket before you, overwhelmed and unable to pick between the number of scenarios you’d formulated with your hand down your pants. “always thought of you,” you managed, almost convinced you could feel his chest swell with pride. “thought of you using me however you pleased every night.”

jack found you were easier to rile up than he imagined— after all, he knew you were much dirtier than you let on. maybe you were more bark than you were bite. your flustered choice of words told him everything and nothing at all. there was something so filthy yet innocent about your response. it made his cock rock hard. “have you ever been touched, darlin’?” he interrogated, allowing the hand that once held your wrists together, the one that had just assaulted the cheeks of your ass, to dip down between your legs and delicately sweep over your clothed centre. you squirmed, and he chuckled. “i think i know the answer.” he teased, watching your face burn and head shake in shame. “is that so?” jack’s tone was laced with faux pity, but you could pick up on the excitement lurking beneath. he clicked his tongue, repeating the same motion from just moments ago, but this time with your damp cotton panties swiftly shoved to the side. he collected your arousal on his pointer finger, pleased to find you were practically dripping, and all because of him. his voice deepened, “i’ve heard virgin pussy is perfect to mould to the shape of your cock— just gotta use it enough.”

a wanton moan flew from your lips, head tossed back onto his shoulder. your thighs had begun to quiver. “please,” you begged aimlessly, reaching out to grip at the pockets of denim that hung at his hips. inadvertently, you only tugged him closer. you couldn’t complain, nonetheless.

“please what?” he encouraged, unable to deny the cocky grin that tugged at the corners of his lips. to finally feel you after weeks of longing, have you pleading with only a few touches, and the sound of your voice made his pants tighten. he was teasing himself just as much as you. “you’re a big girl, princess. use your words as i told you.”

you let out a whine.

“you’re not getting fucked until you ask properly.” he reminded sternly; the playful tone that carried his voice only seconds ago had disappeared. he enjoyed seeing you struggle.

“please,” you repeated meekly, squirming underneath his stare. “please fuck me.”

“very cute, but i know you can do better.” the older man sighed, recalling the outline of your lips he’d so meticulously read each time you approached an orgasm, crying out to no one but yourself— “please, please, please,” you’d heave, and he would spend the night with his hand wrapped around his cock, aching to know what it sounded like. your mouth was capable of much dirtier things, and while he liked your display of oblivion, he wanted to hear what you’d spend so long hiding from him.

“it hurts, i need it.” you cried, thighs squeezed together in desperation. you truly thought you would collapse from need. “make me your fuck toy, force me to take it until i can’t anymore, until i pass out, i don’t care. just fill me up, please, jack. i’ll do anything. you can do anything.” you rambled, and you honestly didn’t think you would have stopped if jack hadn’t lost restrain, ripping your panties from your core and letting them pool at your ankles. the sudden breeze made you shiver.

“‘atta girl,” he cooed, soothing the pain of your throbbing entrance by running a finger along the rim of your outer walls. while anyone else would probably complain, you were just elated to finally have some relief. he finally dipped the thick digit into your heat, deriving a drawn-out, high-pitched moan from your lips. your insides twisted in ways you didn’t recognize, quickly growing dependent on the slow, even rhythm he’d begun to pump at. “i knew those tiny hands of yours couldn’t be enough for you.” jack sledged, adding another finger. your hips instinctively began to push back into his palm. “come on, show me how bad you want it.” a third digit slipped in, and if your cunt wasn’t so sopping wet, you’d probably be writhing in discomfort. his fingers stilled.

it was both too much and not enough at all, huffing and puffing as you messily jerked your hips back into the hand of your neighbour.

“aw, you need help, baby?” jack’s tone was soft, so coaxing yet ridiculing. you could hear the chortle in his voice. perhaps he could tell you had absolutely no idea what you were doing. that all that you wanted, you had no idea how to get.

you didn’t think you could nod faster.

“poor thing can’t even fuck herself right.” jack mocked, allowing you to continue your struggle as he dropped the hand from your neck to wrap around your hips for leverage. “need to be stretched out by a real man, hm?”

you nodded mindlessly— you’d agree to anything if it meant getting what you so badly craved. and with that, his three fingers curled into your gummy spot, pulling you back into him with each plunge. you felt the hardness in his jeans with each push he gave, dropping your hands to dig into the flesh of his forearm that secured around your waist. you’d began to tighten around him, the knot in your stomach growing larger and your moans increasing in volume with each thrust— you were going to cum, and jack was well aware. “c-can i—“

and you were empty. tears spilled down your face once more, gratified gasps turning to frustrated heaves for air. you pushed your ass back into jack’s groin, letting out a mindless string of pleas. i hate him, you thought.

“i thought you wanted to be fucked.” the man grinned as if he were doing you a favour, forcing your head to snap back to catch his gaze. your brows were knitted in anger, bottom lip jutted out, and cheeks wet. getting a glimpse of your teary eyes made jack’s balls feel heavier than ever, finally chipping the last piece of his composure down to nothing. the brief hiss of his zipper was enough to make your chest burst with anticipation, and you had to fight to keep yourself upright long enough to feel the angry-red tip of his cock swipe along your soaking folds. the feeling alone made you squirm, let alone the uncomfortable push at your entrance.

“it’s not gonna fit.” you panted, hips falling forward in response to the painful sensation. one of your hands pushed at his stomach, attempting to relieve yourself of the unfamiliar pressure.

jack tightened his grip on your waist, ripping your hand from his torso to pin against the picket before you. he then gave you a forceful jolt back into his body. “i’ll make it fit.” he spoke sharply through his teeth, the little bit of patience he had left becoming completely non-existent. he’d been dying to feel the warmth of your cunt for weeks. now that you were here, finally his for the taking, he couldn’t hold back. he wasn’t going to play nice.

he forced the remainder of his shaft between your wet walls with a drawn-out grunt, holding you in his arms so tightly you thought you’d break. your mouth had fallen open, unable to find a sound that could articulate how both excruciating and perfect it felt to be split and filled. finally, a wail found its way to the tip of your tongue.

“sh, just take it.” jack hushed, dropping your hand to fist at your throat. he could feel your pulse beat out of control against his palm, and it only further encouraged his stamina. with each thrust of his hips, he felt your muscles relax, pain going unnoticed as you melted into the pleasure of being fucked. “that’s it, you’re takin’ me so well, baby— fuck, so good.” your pussy was so much better than he ever could’ve imagined, and with each delicious clench of your walls, he had to fight not to fall over the edge.

his praise had you dripping, the iniquitous squelch that accompanied each jostle of his hips making you tilt your head forward in humiliation. jack acknowledged the gesture, grabbing your jaw between his fist to force you back up. “you wanna act all innocent and naive?” he spat, noticing the way your back arched to offer up your puffy and sore hole for fucking. there was no doubt in his mind you’d be bruised from the beating it had taken today, and he wasn’t even finished yet.

jack’s chin rested on your shoulder, and when he noticed how your breasts bounced with each thrust, he let go of your face with a shove to reach up to rip at the material of your neckline, allowing your tits to spill out, free of their confinements. his eager hands fled to cup the supple flesh, twisting and pinching your pebbled nipples. “we both know all you are is a whore— made to be used as a hole and nothing else. you know that, don’t you?” you were blind from pleasure and unable to make out anything past a whimper. his words made you dizzy. “do you know your place, little girl?” he grunted, swinging an arm back to push your face further into the wood.

when you didn’t answer, jack pulled out to leave you empty, ignoring your protests as he spun you around to hike up your dress and hook both legs around his hips. he wanted to look you in the eyes, make sure you knew who was making you feel this way— make sure you saw the first man you come undone under. “so stupid, and all for some cock.” he muttered, sinking right back into your snug heat where he belonged. fuck, it felt like you were made for him.

your head fell back, drool beginning to fall freely from the corner of your lips.

“all body, no brains. at least you can be put to use with a tight cunt to fuck.” jack’s words only encouraged the knot that had retied in the pit of your stomach, hands frantically searching to clutch onto his shoulders for support. he could feel each clench of your walls, sucking him in and pushing him closer to the edge with each thrust. he squeezed your thighs, head falling forward into the crook of your neck.

his name fell from your lips like a prayer as you neared your high. you sunk your nails into the flesh of his back, pants falling from your lips each time your back was shoved into the wooden panel behind you. “cum?” was all you could manage, being met with a low growl that only further stirred your insides.

jack’s hand found your throat once more, forcing your head back to get a good look at your fucked-out expression. it wasn’t anything he isn’t familiar with, but he found that up-close, it was much prettier than he imagined— it didn’t hurt that he was finally what resulted in it. “cum.” he answered, and you did.

you let go with wanton sobs, your orgasm hitting you in waves of overwhelming rapture— it almost hurt, the way you constricted around him.

for him, too. the tightening of your heat made it hard to pull out— both literally and figuratively. the way your face twisted, eyes softened with such desire made him feel like he was going to blow. this is what you were made for. the devilish voice in the back of his head pleaded to mark you, fill you with his seed and claim you as his, but he had to accept that the day would come eventually, just not now. for once, he knew better.

you clung to him, your body buzzing with ecstasy. you were unable to control the overwhelming convulsions and twitches of your muscles. jack’s hips slowed, soothing circles into the skin of your outer thighs and whispering quiet promises of “i got you” ’s and “you did so well” ’s.

when you’d ridden out your orgasm, he found it hard to suppress himself any longer, pulling his cock out to rut against your slick folds. your hips bucked instinctively, and that was enough to drive him to release, still reminiscent of the pulse of your cunt. grunts puffed out through his lips, finally letting out a long, drawn-out moan as his balls were relieved through long, silky ropes of cum. he milked every palpitation of pleasure that radiated up his stomach and through his body, basking in the sounds of your attenuating whimpers. his eyes hadn’t once left yours.

“what a waste,” jack tsked, hand trailing down to trace over the now sticky lining of your mound. you recoiled as he collected a mix of your juices on the tip of his finger, presenting it to your lips that had already begun to obediently part. you sucked the cocktail off of his digit, unable to tear your gaze from his. when he praised you one last time, you could feel yourself slipping into a state of tranquillity.

you were a mess of dried tears, flushed cheeks and drool, but he never found you more beautiful. your breasts were swollen, and the majority of your body had turned a bright cherry-red. he dipped down to pull your underwear back up and readjust your dress. he pacified your skin with his palms, pressing soft kisses to random patches of flesh as he made his way back up to your face. as he caught your eyes, he was endeared by the vulnerability and submission that swam empty in your gaze. he felt his heart swell in need to take care of you, but with the sound of a vehicle fast approaching, he knew better to quickly tug on his shirt, button up his jeans, drop his hat over his head and search for the origin of the sound.

the clang of jack’s belt broke you from your daze. you wondered where he’d found the time to get dressed, but the tinge of alarm on his face had you following his gaze, mimicking the expression he held on a grander scale when you noticed your father’s vehicle pulling into the driveway.

jack greeted him with a curt nod and a friendly wave as he began to retreat back to his yard, his cheeks pushing his eyes into thin crescent moons. he explained away his now fixed (and broken-in) picket fence, and your father offered a hand if he ever needed it. it was when your dad commented on the heat and something along the lines of two sets of hands getting the job done quicker than you realized you were both glistening in sweat, in which jack praised your generosity in offering him refreshments while you worked at your garden. “that’s a good girl you’ve got,” he said.

before he slipped behind the barrier of your two homes, he glanced over his shoulder, giving you a wink and a tilt of his hat. there was that knowing smirk again. “good afternoon, little lady.”

and then he was gone.

he liked the chase, the little game you had him playing— and he didn’t plan on allowing it to end there. saying jack daniels was going to be a problem would be the understatement of the century, and even if you didn’t know it yet, there would be no returning to subtle, neighbourly nods and hospitable waves.

you went to sleep that night with your window wide open, and jack figured that fence had really been worth fixing.

#pedro pascal #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey smut #kingsman the golden circle #cw age gap

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rocknrollbabe14 · 2 years ago

Text

Right By Your Side (Joseph x Reader)

Rating: 18+ just because it contains adult content concerning health issues.

Warnings: Pain, putting off treatment, vomiting, sickness, surgery? Otherwise, cute Joe fluff.

Once you all got home from the German Comic Con, life hit you all in the face. You convinced Joseph to go to the eye doctor since he had been complaining about his vision. Joe was not exactly thrilled when he came home and told you he had to wear glasses. They had ordered his glasses and told him they should be in within the next week. After that, he could get contacts. But there would be some more waiting.

“Can you believe it? Twenty-nine years and I just now need glasses?”, Joe grumbled as he got a drink from the fridge.

Arthur was awake, lying on his back and kicking his legs on his play mat. You sat on the floor with him. “Tell daddy, it’s okay.”, you said in a soft voice.

Joseph sighed, sitting down beside you on the floor. He took a sip of his drink, admiring his baby boy.

“What if Arthur cries when he sees me?”

You rolled your eyes, your baby beginning to smile. “He isn’t going to cry when he sees you with glasses. He’ll still know you’re his daddy.”

Joseph was being really hard on himself. In reality, you knew there was no reason for him to behave this way. He would look great in whatever he wore. He picked Arthur up, and Arthur was able to hold his head up. He smiled at the sight of his daddy.

“Do you think daddy will look weird?”, he baby-talked his son, making a face.

Arthur smiled.

You sighed, rolling your eyes again playfully. Amelia came bouncing down the stairs once she heard her daddy’s voice, realizing he was home.

“Daddy, you’re home?!”, she squealed, running over to him.

“Easy, love, I’ve got the baby.”, he chuckled softly as she slowed down before she wrapped her arms around him tightly.

He kissed her head softly before she turned her attention to Arthur, making him smile. It was nice to see both of your kids getting along, and interacting with each other. You knew it could only get cuter as Arthur became able to do more things like laugh and hold his entire body up. Amelia was dying to help feed him and you and Joe had decided to let her in just a couple of weeks. It was almost Christmas break from preschool. Amelia’s Christmas party was next Friday.

Your plan was to make cookies for her class. Amelia was excited, even asking you to help pick out an outfit for her. You all settled on a Christmas dress with white tights and black flats, and of course, her green bow. The rest of the evening was spent at home, Joseph still fretting over his glasses. Even as you fed Arthur before bed. This was new to him, you understood his hesitation. But you just knew he’d look so handsome and sexy in anything.

It was Tuesday of the next week, Joseph had just home from getting to pick up his glasses. He came through the door, seeing if you would notice.

“Hey love.”, he whispered.

You looked up at him, doing a double take since you noticed his glasses. “Hey, babe. They look good on you.”

“Aw, come on.”, he groaned, taking you in his arms before kissing your head.

Occasionally, Joseph had a hard time accepting compliments even from you. He was very humble and you thought it was one of the cutest things about Joe. He held you in his arms for a minute, noticing you were making lunch. Amelia wanted grilled cheese and tomato soup, he assured you that sounded great to him. He sat down at the table, reading on his phone for a few minutes while you finished up lunch, and set the table.

“Amelia, lunch is ready!”

“Coming, mommy!”, she yelled back.

Joseph put his phone down, kissing your cheek as you sat his plate and bowl down. “Thanks for making lunch, love.”

“You’re most welcome, babe.”

Amelia ran into the kitchen, you helping her scoot her chair out, and situate herself in it.

“Daddy, did you get glasses?”, she asked, slightly confused at seeing her dad in front of her.

He eyed you before answering her. “Yes, princess. Daddy needed glasses.”

You sat down with them, listening to their daddy-daughter banter, causing you to smirk. It was quite cute. You ate a small amount of soup and only half a grilled cheese. Your stomach was hurting slightly, but nothing out of the ordinary. It was right near your belly button, the cramping, aching feeling. You chalked it up to starting your period soon, a good sign right now with two kids. Joe noticed you weren’t eating like you usually did.

“Feeling okay, love?”

“Fine, just my stomach’s hurting a little. I think it’s about time for my monthly.”, you eyed him.

“Mommy, what’s a monthly?”

Joe almost spat his soup out, quickly grabbing a napkin and clearing his throat. Amelia had become increasingly curious lately, questioning almost everything. Joseph definitely did not want to think about his baby girl reaching that phase of puberty. He couldn’t even handle the fact she was in preschool. He dreaded the day she got a crush on a boy, his heart couldn’t take it.

“Um, just where mommy’s stomach hurts.”, you deflected quickly.

“Sounds bad.”, Amelia scrunched her face up, going back to her soup.

Joe coughed again, taking a sip of water and trying to recover from his daughter’s curious question. You eyed him easily, holding back a laugh. After finishing lunch, Joe helped you clean up the kitchen. Amelia was in the living room, watching Arthur sleep. You had Bluey on to entertain her.

“The real test is when I pick up Arthur.”, Joe sighed, looking at you and referring to his glasses.

“Amelia didn’t think anything different.”, you smirked up at him.

“Mommy, Arthur’s awake!”, Amelia yelled from the living room.

“Okay, mommy will feed him in a few minutes, dear.”

Joe sighed, closing the cabinets. “Wesley is wanting to get together tomorrow, is it okay if I go out with him?”

You eyed Joe, putting your hands on your hips. He was always such a gentleman and asked permission to leave the house when it wasn’t business related. Joe was always conscious of you being home alone with the kids. But you knew he needed time to himself and to catch up with his friends. He offered to do the same thing for you, even offering for you to get your nails and toes done and have a massage at the salon. You were hesitant about his offer at first, especially leaving him alone with Amelia and Arthur for several hours.

It wasn’t that you thought he wasn’t capable, he most definitely was. You just felt guilty going out, you felt like your sole purpose in life was to be a mommy now. He gently encouraged you to go, stating that you deserved this and it was the least he could do for you. After his small persuasion, you hesitantly agreed. But you were very glad you went, feeling so good and relaxed once you got back home. Practically feeling like a new woman.

“You know you don’t have to ask.”, you looked up at him.

“It’s a respect thing, love. I just want to make sure you’re okay with it.”

“I’m perfectly fine with it, me and the kids will be fine. Tell him we said hi.”, you smirked before Joe took you in his arms, placing his hands on your waist and you all shared a small kiss.

You both went into the living room, once Arthur was trying to become fussier.

“Moment of truth.”, Joe smirked at you.

All you could do was playfully roll your eyes again. Joseph picked him up out of his pack n play and you could tell he was holding his breath. Arthur’s fussing ceased, with him eyeing his daddy with his brown eyes. He finally smiled just for a second and you could tell Joseph breathed a sigh of relief.

“You don’t think daddy looks weird, do you buddy?”, he spoke softly before kissing Arthur’s head.

Arthur smiled softly.

“See? He knows you’re still daddy, now let me feed him before he starts crying.”, you laughed.

Joe handed him to you easily, smirking as you both sat down on the couch, Amelia climbing up on the couch with you all. She cuddled Joe while you all watched Bluey. As the evening progressed, your abdominal discomfort became worse, becoming full-on abdominal pain. Especially in your right lower abdomen. Joseph noticed your face was scrunched up, your hand on your stomach.

Arthur was asleep in your arms. Amelia was in her pajamas, asleep in her daddy’s arms. He was gonna carry her upstairs and put her in bed.

“Love, are you sure you’re okay?”

You sighed, discomfort evident on your face. “I just am having really bad abdominal pain. Maybe where my periods are just starting to get regular again?”, you suggested. “I’m gonna take some Tylenol.”

He nodded. “Alright love, I’m gonna take Amelia to bed.

You gave her a kiss before going to the kitchen, Arthur in your arms, managing to open the pill bottle, popping two in your mouth before grabbing a cup, getting some water out of the fridge, and chasing them down quickly. You secretly hoped this would help. You turned off the lamps downstairs, beginning your trek up the stairs, feeling the pain in your abdomen worsen with these increased movements. You closed your eyes, breathing through the pain. This felt as bad if not worse than labor pains.

You got upstairs, and Amelia’s door was cracked, signaling Joe had already successfully put her to bed. You went into the bedroom, putting Arthur in his bassinet, holding your side. Joe was in the bathroom, the door opening. You quickly removed your hand, wincing as you sat down in bed.

“Did you take some medicine, baby?”, he asked, dressed in his pajama pants.

You nodded. “Two Tylenol.”

“If you feel any worse, wake me up, okay?”, he asked, looking into your eyes, seriousness on his face. He pulled you close to him, stretching your abdomen and causing you to wince in pain, biting back and squealing out in pain.

He felt you tense up in his arms. “Baby, am I hurting you?”

“No—it just is very sensitive. This is the worst period cramps I’ve ever had.”, you breathed, finally catching your breath.

He looked at you cautiously. “Seriously wake me up if things get worse, okay baby?”

You nodded easily, sharing a goodnight kiss with him, cuddling up to him best you could without hurting yourself further. Your side was killing you, the pain making you nauseated. Your eyes shot open, looking at the clock. It was two thirty. Joe was snoring beside you, his arms lazily wrapped around you. You broke out in a cold sweat, feeling extremely nauseated.

You easily moved his arm, realizing you had to get to the bathroom and fast. Arthur was still fast asleep and you prayed he’d stay asleep until after you finished throwing up. Your legs were weak, and you trying not to stumble your way through the bedroom. You didn’t want to knock anything over to wake Joe up. You carefully found the doorknob, opened the bathroom door, and closed it gently behind you. You eased yourself down to your knees, the cool tile hitting your legs.

It reminded you of when you had severe morning sickness with Amelia. You grabbed your own hair, held it back, and threw up. You closed your eyes, feeling tears slide down your cheeks. You just wanted this to be over. Once you had emptied your stomach contents, you slumped down on the tile floor, just laying there, feeling relieved at how cold the floor was-especially against your face. You didn’t realize you had drifted off to sleep for a bit.

Not until you heard the sound of Arthur crying, bringing you out of your slumber. What little bit you had managed to get while laying on your bathroom floor. When you lifted your head up, the room felt like it was spinning. If you managed to get up right now, it would take everything you had in you. Raising up from the floor, you felt the sharp, stabbing pain causing you to wince and hiss in pain. Just as you were about to try and hold on to the toilet to get up, the door opened.

“Oh my God.”, you heard your husband, shock evident in his voice. “Baby, what’s wrong? How long have you been in here? Are you sick?”

You closed your eyes, trying to get your thoughts together. “Just a really—really bad stomach ache or period cramps—so bad it’s making me nauseated. But I promise I’m fine.”

He scoffed easily. “You are so not fine. We need to go on to the emergency room. You’ve never ever had period craps nor a virus bad enough that you vomited and fell asleep on the bathroom floor.”

You sighed. You knew in the back of your mind you were fighting a losing battle. Eventually, Joseph would win. This was the worst pain you had ever felt in your entire life minus labor pains. At least with labor pains, they eventually went away. The Tylenol you had taken had barely taken the edge off. You were miserable if you were being honest.

“No, please no emergency room. They’ll just give me a bunch of fluids and IV nausea medicine and send me home.”, you pleaded with him.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Love, I’m worried about you. It could be something more—like maybe an ectopic pregnancy or something serious.”

You sighed at his suggestion. “I don’t think so. Can you please feed Arthur and just let me lay here?”

He was taken aback at this. This was unlike you. He didn’t mind feeding Arthur for you. Joseph was willing to do anything and everything he could to help you.

He sighed, accepting your answer for now. “Fine, but at least let me get you a pillow and blanket. And I’m coming in here when I’m done feeding the baby. This conversation is not over.”

You smiled softly at how firm he was trying to be with you before the pain took back over, causing you to frown and grimace. You could hear Joe picking Arthur up from his bassinet, beginning to baby-talk to him. Arthur’s crying was becoming softer. Joe went downstairs and grabbed him a bottle before coming back upstairs and into the bedroom. He was becoming a pro just like you, being able to hold the baby and grab other things. He came into the bedroom, bottle propped against his chest, feeding Arthur as he handed you a pillow and blanket.

“Thank you, babe.”

He eyed you easily. “You’re welcome, babe, but we are still gonna talk about this.”, he said in a sing-song voice.

You sighed easily as he went back into the bedroom, hearing the bed sink with his weight as he sat down to feed Arthur. You easily fixed the pillow, laying down on the tile once more. Something was wrong with you, but you weren’t exactly sure what. Joe could be right—something could be seriously wrong with you. If you were being honest, you had never felt pain like this. It was new, uncharted territory. You could feel your eyes threatening to close, becoming exhausted. You wanted to give in to your exhaustion so badly, almost drifting off as Joe entered the bathroom.

“Now, the baby’s asleep. We have to talk.”

You groaned softly, voice laced with drowsiness. “What about, babe?”

“About the fact, something is wrong with you. This behavior is so unlike you. I am seriously worried about you. I can put off going out with Wesley. He’d understand.”, Joe sighed, his brown eyes looking at you, full of concern.

You were still very lethargic. “No, I’ll be okay. I promise. Go ahead and go out with Wesley.”

Joe ran his hand through your hair, admiring you. You were pale, cold and clammy. He knew something was wrong.

“Can mom at least come over and be with you and the kids?”, he asked softly.

You nodded, groggily. “Yeah.”

That made some relief wash over him. He knew if you got worse, his mom would at least call him and take you to the emergency room. He’d call her first thing in the morning before he left. He stroked your hair as you fought to drift off to sleep. He softly touched your face, admiring you. Your cheeks were flushed and warm, causing him concern. He wished whatever was wrong with you, he could take it away. He hated to see you in pain. Even when you were having Amelia and Arthur.

Joe sat on the floor beside you, making sure you were okay. You were finally managing to sleep a little bit. The only time he left you was to go check on Arthur and feed him or change him. You were up and down a few times over the next several hours. Joe went and got some Pepto Bismol for you to drink. You had a couple more episodes of nausea and vomiting, Joe holding your hair back and rubbing your back.

“You don’t think you could be pregnant, do you?”, he asked as he kissed your head.

You were just getting over your nausea and vomiting spell.

You shook your head. “I really don’t think so. Considering we’re using condoms.”, you choked out, voice hoarse.

He sighed. “Still a small chance.”

You shook your head, dismissing this idea completely. Once morning came, Joe tried to convince you to at least get in bed or lay on the couch. You suffered through the pain, pretending as if you weren’t in immense pain. Joe helped you down to the couch, bringing you the baby as you requested to breastfeed him. You were trying to doze off, even just feeding the baby.

“I can still cancel with Wesley if you need to go to the doctor.”, he kissed your head, feeling if you had a temperature.

“No, I’ll be okay.”, you mumbled, Arthur on your right breast.

Your cheeks were still flushed, the rest of your face pale otherwise.

Joe wasn’t exactly convinced. He called his mom, explaining everything. He explained the fact that you wouldn’t let him take you to the doctor and dismissed this as period cramps or a bad stomach bug. He also explained you insisted that he didn’t cancel his plans with Wesley. She agreed to come help you with the kids, giving him some peace of mind. Joe got ready and put his glasses on, helping Amelia get dressed into play clothes. Once he noticed Arthur was done feeding, he scooped him up in his arms, taking him with him around the house.

You managed to take a short nap. Once Joe got dressed, the doorbell rang. Carrying Arthur, he answered the door to see his mom.

“Hello dear. Is Y/N okay?”, his mom asked.

She took her son into her arms, giving him a hug.

He sighed. “For now. She’s taking a nap. Amelia is playing in the living room.”

She nodded, instantly beginning to make over Arthur since he was the first grandchild she laid eyes on.

“And there’s nan’s baby boy. Yes, he is.”, she kissed his head, causing him to squirm as Joe let her take him into her arms.

Arthur settled back down, snuggling into her arms. His mom took her shoes off, coming further into the house. Coming into the living room, she noticed you were asleep on the couch. Joseph smiled softly.

“Here, baby put your legs up on the couch. Get comfortable. Mom’s here, okay?”, he said softly, kissing your head before brushing a hand through your hair.

“Okay.”, you said softly, wincing at him moving you.

“And call me if you need me, please. Or get mom to.”

“Okay.”

Amelia immediately ran over to hug her nan. “Nan!”

“Hello sweetheart.”, she leaned down to kiss Amelia, careful with Arthur.

Joseph smiled, admiring the beautiful family he had. However, there was still worry seeded deep inside of him. He felt uneasy leaving you, but he didn’t want to argue with you. He felt better that his mom was there in case you needed someone. Amelia’s curls were getting longer, but they were so adorable. It was just one of the things she took after him, causing a smile to appear on her lips. Amelia smiled, going back to play with her toys.

“Call me if she gets worse.”, Joe sighed to his mom, eyeing you on the couch.

“I will, dear. Don’t worry so much. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

He nodded, giving his mom a final hug before she kissed him on the head. He grabbed his keys, taking another look at you before his mom went to sit on the loveseat, holding Arthur in her arms and beginning to ask Amelia about school and her trip to Germany. All the exciting things. He smiled softly, but he was going to worry about you the entire time he was gone. You and the kids were his everything and he wanted to do everything in his power to keep you all healthy and safe.

He met Wesley for lunch at a local pub, a familiar hangout for the both of them. Wesley could instantly read Joseph, sensing something was wrong.

“What’s wrong?”, he asked immediately.

“Y/N’s not feeling well. She was up all night last night throwing up and even slept in our bathroom floor.”, Joe sighed, rubbing his face.

Wesley’s expression was even full of concern. “Why are you here?”

“She refuses to go to the doctor. She said it’s a bad stomach bug or bad period cramps. Mom’s with her and the kids. I told her you’d understand if I needed to cancel my plans.”

Wesley nodded. “Of course. Your family comes first. What do you think is wrong with her?”

Joe shrugged. “I don’t know but I’m worried it’s something serious.”

Wesley nodded as they waited on their food. He noticed that Joe kept checking his phone for any text or call from you or his mom. He tapped the table nervously, seeming distracted. Their food arrived but Joe barely picked at his. Wesley could tell he was more worried than he was really letting on.

Back at home, you were in and out of sleep. You were holding your side, listening to Amelia and Joseph’s mom talk and interact. You held back your groans. You were in absolute misery. Part of you wished you had let Joe take you to the doctor or the hospital. You were feeling nauseated again, the pain increasingly becoming worse. His mom noticed, telling Amelia she’d be right back. Arthur was asleep in her arms, snoring.

“Are you feeling sick, sweetie?”, she asked.

You closed your eyes, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Do you need the bin?”

You knew what she was referring to—the trash can. You nodded weakly. The nausea was increasing and easing up towards your throat. She took off to the kitchen quickly before returning with the trash can, sitting it near your head. Without warning, you began throwing up. You didn’t have much to give considering you hadn’t eaten since dinner last night. His mom set on the arm of the couch, grabbing your hair and pulling it back while holding Arthur in the other arm.

This caught Amelia’s attention. “Nan, is mommy sick?”

“Yes, love. She’s not feeling well.”, you heard her voice beside you.

Once it was over, you kept your eyes closed, feeling the tears continue to slide down your cheeks from your eyes watering.

“Lay back, sweetie. I’ll go get a washcloth.”

“You don’t have to do that.”, you coughed.

His mom clicked her tongue. “No, I insist. Just lay back and close your eyes. Relax.”

She came back from the bathroom, still holding Arthur, and got you a damp, cool washcloth and laid it on your forehead. She was a pro at multitasking. Arthur began to wake up, fussing and crying.

“Here, let me feed him.”, you said softly, voice small and weak.

“No dear, it’s okay. You just close your eyes. Do you have milk in the fridge?”

You nodded weakly. “Yeah, and there’s some in the freezer. Joe likes to keep it stocked.”

You could hear the smile in her voice. “He’s a proud father, that’s for sure. I’ll take care of it.”

You could hear her rummaging in the kitchen, getting his bottle ready, and feeding him. You continued to writhe, tossing and turning on the couch. You wished something—anything would end your misery. Amelia kept cautious eyes on you, worried about her mommy. You had no energy. You wanted to take care of your kids, but you couldn’t muster up the energy to do so. You suffered for a few more hours, day slipping into night. His mom kept a check on you, dabbing your head every now and then with a washcloth before leaving it on your forehead permanently.

Your phone dinged and you knew it was Joseph, but you couldn’t muster the energy to even look at it. You finally reached the end of your rope.

“Call Joe, please call him. I need him. I need him so bad.”, you began to sob into the couch cushion.

She eyed you sympathetically before sitting down. “You want me to call him, sweetheart? Do you want me to go ahead and take you to the emergency room and have him meet us there?”

You nodded, holding your side. “Can Joe take me, please? I don’t want the kids to be alarmed. I need him.”, you began to cry.

“Of course, dear. I’ll call him now.”

She pulled out her cell phone and dialed his number. You could only hear her side of the conversation.

“Hey dear, it’s mum. Y/N wants you, honey. She’s begging for you. Yes, come and take her to the emergency room. Yes, she’s gotten slightly worse. Yes. Okay, dear. Be careful driving, I love you.”

She came over and felt your head again. She was being motherly towards you, obviously and clearly concerned about you. Amelia was worried, coming over to talk to you.

“Mommy, are you okay?”, her voice broke.

You nodded. “Mommy will be okay.”

His mom sat beside you, watching you. She could visibly see you were uncomfortable and miserable. You were quietly beginning to sob into the pillow again. She put her hand on your shoulder. It was just a matter of fifteen or twenty minutes before the door came open, Joe rushed in the door. He was visibly shaken, feeling a little on edge. You heard him come over to you.

“Baby.”, he said softly, partially filled with relief and the other with sympathy for the pain you felt.

Joe ran his hand through your hair, feeling how clammy you were. He looked back at his mom before speaking again. “Love, we need to go to the hospital. Are you ready?”

You nodded, beginning to cry. “Please Joe. Please.”

Joe looked at you with sympathetic eyes, he hated to see you cry.

He kissed your head. “Okay, baby. Okay.”, he breathed, kissing your forehead again.

He made a few more last-minute arrangements, asking his mom if she would keep the kids while you all were gone. She agreed and stated she would call his dad to come over too. Amelia was worried, Joe could see it all over her face. She was on the verge of shedding tears, carefully wiping her eyes and sniffling. Joe’s heart immediately sank noticing his baby girl so upset.

Joe went over to Amelia, kneeling down on her level. “It’s going to be okay, baby girl. Okay?”

She nodded carefully, rubbing her eyes again. “Promise daddy?”

“Daddy promises. Daddy’s gonna take mommy to the doctor to help her feel better, okay? Daddy and mommy love you so much.”, he breathed, his voice wavering as he leaned her over to kiss her head.

“Love you, daddy. Love you mommy.”, she said softly.

Joseph’s mom was still holding Arthur, Joe taking his time to kiss his baby boy goodbye for the time being. After that, Joe quickly turned his attention back to you. You were crying, trying to keep it quiet. It was hard to focus on anything. Other than the immense pain you felt. You could hardly even focus on Joe’s voice or Amelia’s voice. You had never experienced anything like this in your life and you never hoped to again.

“Come on baby, let’s go.”, he said softly, kissing your head.

He tried to help you sit up, however, when he did, you felt like you were being stabbed, yelling out. “Babe—please stop—it hurts so bad!”

The end of your sentence was frail and weak as you broke into a sob. Joseph’s face crinkled in worry, immediately began to apologize profusely. “I’m so so sorry, baby. I am so sorry.”

Through the stream of your tears, you saw Amelia gasp and cling to Joseph’s mom.

Joe ran his hand through your hair softly, touching your cheek. You sobbed into your hands, feeling like you were dying. That’s what you would compare this to.

“Let me carry you, baby. Please.”, he thumbed over your cheek.

You nodded, tears still sliding down your cheeks. Joe scooped you in his arms, reminiscent of your wedding day when he carried you bridal style. You clung to him with everything in you. He was always your safety blanket and today was no exception. Especially feeling like this. He held on to you as his mom went to open the doors to go outside and to the car, telling Amelia she’d be right back. Joe kissed your head as you tried to stop crying. You could only imagine the conversation you were going to be having with him once you all got into the car.

He would probably tell you that you should have let him take you to the doctor this morning or even last night. You deserved to hear those words, you admitted it. He easily put you in the car, dreading the movement. It hurt so bad. Joe apologized the entire time he helped you into the vehicle, kissing your head. He finally got you situated, laying the seat down, and making you a little more comfortable. His mom hugged him, assuring him she would keep the kids and they would be fine.

He came around, getting in the driver’s side. Starting the vehicle, his brown eyes panned over at you. He looked at you, trying to read you.

“Go ahead and say it.”, you said softly, gripping your side.

“Say what, love?”, he asked softly in return.

“That I was stupid and should have let you take me to the hospital this morning or yesterday evening. Because I’ll admit it, I should have—I wished I would have.”

He dismissed you quickly. “I wasn’t going to say that, baby. I wish you would have let me take you but I’m just glad you are now before things get worse.”, he rubbed your thigh.

You nodded softly, leaning your head against the door of the car. The hospital wasn’t very far away. You both were well aware of that, especially after having two children. What few minutes it took to arrive at the emergency room, felt like hours to you. It was the pain. Once arriving at the hospital, Joe scooped you up and out of the vehicle, carefully putting you in a wheelchair. You cried softly and he apologized again, rubbing your shoulders. Even through the terrible pain, Joe could do his best to make you feel better.

Once you got inside, you registered at the registration desk. You explained what horrible abdominal pain you were having and how fast the onset of pain was. She asked you a million questions about insurance, your address, and how much of the previous information they had on file for you that was correct. After finishing that painstaking process, you all sat in the waiting room, Joe rubbing your arm. It caused you both to look up when the nurse called your name, an all too familiar feeling.

Joe pushed you through the door that led from the waiting room to the emergency room. The nurse asked if you could weigh, but you explained you were in too much pain. She took you on back to room three. She asked you several questions—very similar to the ones the registrar asked you. Her eyes widened as she noticed your blood pressure was elevated, however, she attributed the high numbers as a result of your pain.

“Any chance you could be pregnant? When was your last period?”, she asked.

“Um, probably not—we use condoms. And my last period was the fifteenth of last month.”, you said tensely.

She nodded. “We’ll go ahead and run a pregnancy test when the lab draws some blood, okay? We’re gonna go ahead and get you an IV started in just a few minutes.”

You nodded. She disappeared, telling you both the doctor would be back soon. Joe kissed your head, brushing through your hair again. You lay down, holding your side. You just wanted relief from this pain. It was ten minutes before the doctor came in. Part of you was relieved, the other worried as to what she would find out was wrong with you.

“Hello, Mrs. Quinn. I’m Dr. Anderson. The nurse told me you started experiencing your pain last night.”

You nodded.

“And you’ve been experiencing some nausea and vomiting?”

You nodded.

She asked you the same round of questions—if there was a chance of pregnancy, when your last period was, etc. The nurse came back in why she was asking you these questions to start your IV. The doctor asked you to lean back and she warned you that what she was about to do would hurt. She palpated your abdomen, running over the right lower part of your abdomen. You wanted to jump out of the bed, tears threatening to fall. Joe noticed, taking your hand. You looked to be in more pain than when you had the kids. She finished, stating she was going to run some lab work and do an MRI but would give you some Zofran and pain medication once your IV was in. Joe knew you hated being stuck. It was one of your least favorite things. Even though you had two children, you still hated it.

“Look at me.”, he said softly.

Your eyes panned over to him as the nurse tied the tourniquet on your arm, searching for a vein—her gloved finger running over your skin. He almost wanted to cry himself noticing how tear-filled your eyes were. Joseph truly hated to see you in pain. At least when you had the babies, there was something to look forward to at the end. Holding your babies was the best feeling and the biggest adrenaline rush. With this, he was unsure where this would go and what was wrong with you.

He stroked his thumb over your hand the nurse wasn’t using. “Remember the first time they stuck you for your IV when you were in labor with Amelia?”

You smiled softly, nodding through your pain. “Yeah. I was in denial about it being real labor.”

He laughed. “But you were so desperate to have her.”

“Big stick.”, the nurse said as she slid the IV into a vein in your arm, but you didn’t really hear her because you were focusing on Joe.

You barely winced as Joe continued. “I was so huge and miserable.”

“You were not.”, he disagreed.

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever.”

He chuckled again as the nurse finished taping your IV. “How many kids do you have?”

“Two—a four-year-old little girl and an eleven-week-old baby boy.”, you answered, wincing at the pain in your abdomen.

She nodded. “Aw, how sweet. What’re their names?”

“Amelia and Arthur.”

“Adorable, alright sweetie here’s your zofran for nausea and she ordered you some morphine for pain, okay?”, the nurse eyed you.

You nodded, thankful that you were finally going to see some relief from nausea, vomiting, and pain. The nurse put the medication through your IV. It was just a few minutes after the Morphine, you instantly felt relief. Joe noticed you finally relaxed, closing your eyes. They wheeled you away from him to have your MRI. Your brain was wracked with thoughts of what could be wrong with you. It terrified you to know that you could focus on what was really ahead of you rather than the immense pain you were feeling.

Bringing you back into the emergency room, you climbed back on the stretcher easily. Joe covered you back up, kissing your head.

“You know I love you more than anything.”, Joe eyed you.

You were a little high on pain medicine. “You do?”, you smiled at him, making a pouty face.

Joe smile with his brown eyes shining, running a hand through your hair. “Yes, I love you and our kids more than anything in this entire world.”

He leaned over and shared a kiss with you, also relieved you were not in as much pain as you had been. It may have been twenty minutes before the doctor came back in.

“Alight Mrs. Quinn, I have your MRI results back and the good news is you’re not experiencing an ectopic pregnancy. The bad news is, you have an inflamed appendix which we call appendicitis. You do need to have emergency surgery to prevent it from rupturing which can cause a lot of complications.”

You and Joe looked at one another, trying to take in this information.

“But—”, you tried to protest, feeling fear and anxiety begin to set in, along with tears welling up in your eyes instantly thinking about spending a night away from your kids.

“No buts, baby. You need this.”, Joe eyed you, rubbing your arm softly.

You knew he was right, you had to have surgery. The doctor said she would have the surgeon on-call to come in and talk to you about your risks, and possible complications, and to review the procedure with you. Your surgical consent would also need to be signed. You would immediately be prepped for surgery. The doctor left to give you all a few minutes to gather your thoughts. Tears were welling up in your eyes, feeling fear and shock beginning to set in.

Joe noticed. “Love, it’s going to be alright.”, he took your hand before kissing it.

“I’m scared, Joe. This is major surgery.”

Deep down inside, he was worried too. But he knew he had to put on a brave face for you.

“I know, love. But this is how you’re going to feel better.”, he brushed through your hair.

He went ahead and called his mom, letting her know they were going to do emergency surgery. The surgeon came in within thirty minutes to talk to you both, explaining everything. You shook as you grabbed the pen and clipboard, signing your name on the signature line, and giving them permission to perform surgery on you to remove your appendix. They give you a quick surgical bath and a new gown.

“She’s gonna be admitted to room 312 after her surgery. You can wait in the waiting room and a nurse will come to get you to come and see her in recovery.”, the nurse eyed Joseph who was from the OR team.

They explained you were going to holding in the OR for them to give you some medicine to relax you before taking you into the operating room. They put a disposable blue bouffant cap on you, the kind the OR team wears and you felt slightly ridiculous but also very tearful.

They stopped the stretcher to allow you and Joseph a moment.

Joe looked down at you with what looked like watery eyes, holding your clothes and a packet they had given you for your admission. He smiled softly before stroking your cheek.

“You’re gonna be fine, love. I’ll be right there as soon as they let me, okay? I promise.”, he kissed your cheek.

“Okay, babe. Check on the kids, please.”

He nodded.

“Do I look ridiculous?”, you asked softly causing Joe to chuckle and smile.

“No, still the most beautiful woman ever. I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too.”, you said, tears in your eyes but Joe kissed you on the lips softly.

You all kept your eyes on each other as they wheeled you away on the stretcher. This was really happening, you were doing this. When they got you down to OR holding, you felt a chill in the air. The nurse took over, reviewing the procedure with you and asking some questions. The anesthesiologist came shortly after to push the medication through your IV, almost instantly calming you down. All you could think about was your kids and Joseph.

“How are you feeling?”, the nurse asked easily.

“Tired…”, you said drowsily, speech slightly slurred.

“Alright, dear. We are going back to the OR and I’m gonna get you to transfer from this stretcher to the table, okay?”

You nodded slowly, closing your eyes. It was a matter of time before you came into the operating room, the staff asked you to transfer over to the bed and it took you a moment to do so, trying to get your body to follow the commands from your brain to move. You didn’t feel half as nervous, the medicine kicking in. The nurse talked calmly as they placed the mask over your face, asking you to count back from ten. You only made it to six before everything went black.

The first thing you remembered when waking up was feeling your husband holding your hand, stroking it softly.

“Hey, love. It’s all over now.”, his voice carried softly.

You fought to blink your eyes open, but everything was blurry. Joseph finally came into view.

“It’s done?”, you asked groggily.

He nodded. “Mhmm. Let me let the nurse know you’re awake and I’ll be right back.”, he kissed your head.

You heard him walk away, meeting the nurse right outside the curtain. You heard them talking as she came into see you and assess you, Joseph sitting back down on the other side of the stretcher.

“How are you Mrs. Quinn?”, she asked.

“Tired…hurting…nauseous.”, you crinkled your face.

“I’ll get you some medicine, okay?”

Joseph held your hand as the nurse left briefly just to grab some medicine and come right back. She told you what each medicine was as she pushed it through your IV, allowing you to get instant relief.

“How are the kids?”, you asked slowly.

“Fine, mom and dad just fed them about an hour ago. Mom said they’re getting baths and going to bed soon.”, he thumbed over your hand.

You nodded, feeling satisfied. They took your vitals a few more times before preparing to take you to your regular room. Joe walked right beside the stretcher the entire time. The nurse told you to keep your eyes open and not fall back asleep. You listened to her. You arrived in your room, the nurse helped you off the stretcher. Joe took over, making sure you made it to your bed before covering you up and kissing your head. She took your vitals again as they handed off report to your nurse on the floor.

They brought you some dinner if you considered broth, jello, and a soda dinner. You ate it easily, looking at Joe and asking him if he was going to eat. He said he would in a little bit. They brought him a tray as well, considering it was so late. You became more alert as the night went on, however, you asked for your pain medicine before getting up to go to the bathroom, which you dreaded so badly. It wasn’t as bad as you imagined it would be, but you were sorer than you had been after having Amelia and Arthur.

Joe held your hand, sitting in a chair by your bed as you fell asleep. He called one more time to check on the kids, both fast asleep. His mom informed him Amelia asked every hour if you were okay and out of surgery. Joe thought that was the cutest thing. While on the phone, he arranged a little surprise for you tomorrow. If all went well, you would get released tomorrow. He knew how much you wanted to go home. He eventually drifted off to sleep in the chair but set an alarm every four hours to wake you up and see if you needed pain medicine. It was cute how much he took care of you.

The next morning, you felt sorer but felt more like yourself. They advanced your diet, finally allowing you to get regular food. Joe called his mom and dad as you ate breakfast. The day began to pass, you trying to watch television and get your mind off things while talking to Joseph and having him by your side. Jamie and Jess texted to see how everything went. Wesley checked in also. It was sweet of them to be concerned and care about you. Joseph smiled at his phone, his mom and dad letting him know they had arrived and would be inside shortly.

You noticed but didn’t say anything. Suddenly, the door opened and you heard the sweetest sound. Your eyes immediately shot over to the door, noticing your daughter.

“Mommy!”, Amelia yelled as she ran over to your bed, a bouquet of flowers in her hand.

“Amelia!”, you said excitedly, smiling from ear to ear.

She ran over to the bed, Joe helping give her a boost while smiling to himself. Her curls were perfect, cascading down slightly past her shoulders. She liked her hair long and you didn’t fight her on that. Joe loved it too, so it stayed. She instantly hugged you tightly, Joe reminding her to be easy on you. You kissed her head.

“Me and Arthur got these for you, mommy.”, she handed you the flowers.

Joe watched with proud eyes.

Tears instantly came into your eyes as you took them from her easily. “Amelia, I love them.”

You hugged her again.

His mom held Arthur in her arms, he was still so small and you had missed him so much. He was only two and half months old. You had pumped enough, thankfully. You had no idea you were going to have surgery, and take pain medication and antibiotics. He squeaked easily, stretching in Joseph’s mother’s arms.

“Aw, it’s my baby boy.”, you looked up at his mom as she brought him over to you.

She handed him to you, and he instantly settled down in your arms, realizing his mommy finally had him again.

“I brought his milk. It’s in the cooler.”, his mom smiled, grabbing it from his dad.

“Thank you guys for everything.”, you smiled, tears in your eyes as you held Arthur in your arms, Amelia leaned over on you.

“You’re most welcome, dear.”, she hugged you.

It was a few more hours before the surgeon came in, admiring your family and giving you the news that you were formally being discharged. You were relieved, ready to go home with your kids and husband.

“Thank you for being here for me, babe.”, you looked up at Joe as Arthur slept.

Joe smiled, kissing your head. “You’re welcome, baby. I love you. I’ll always be right by your side, I promise.”

#joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn imagine #joseph x reader #joseph quinn #eddie munson #eddie imagines #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #established couple #dad joe

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years ago

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Day 131.3: Tease (Part 3)

(It's been a minute since I've worked on this one... Read part 1 or part two, if you'd like)

Harry looked at himself in the mirror, he'd changed a dozen times this morning but nothing felt right.

Draco appeared behind him, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist and pressing a kiss to his cheek. By contrast to Harry's uncertainty, the other man looked lovely in his robes for work, wearing something similar to what he wore every day and for a moment, Harry missed that simplicity.

He leaned back against the other man, accepting the comfort Draco was providing while he could still offer it. Soon they'd go out into the world, Draco would go back to the Ministry to listen in on conversations and work from inside while Harry set about destroying everything.

"This is a good choice," Draco said, nodding to Harry's jeans, plain black tshirt, and maroon cardigan. "Young, muggle-friendly, accessible. It reminds the world that you're not stuffy and formal, not set in your ways. It tells them you're forward thinking, ready to bring the wizarding world into the new millennia. Also implies that you're approachable, an every-man-Joe sort of bloke."

He laughed, couldn't help himself. He turned in Draco's arms, "I wish we could do this together," he said as he rested his forehead against Draco's.

"Me too," he breathed, like a confession. "But we both know that you are going to need all of the help you can get to get elected into office. I will not help your cause."

"You keep saying that, but I think that all of the ordinary people are going to be big fans of me," he said optimistically.

"I'm sure you're right," Draco said, pecking him on the nose, "but in my, not so humble opinion, the public's opinion doesn't really matter. Politics all happen behind closed doors."

(Read more below the cut)

He sighed, they'd had this debate. Repeatedly. "Tell me I can do this. Even if you don't believe it," he whispered.

Draco pressed his lips against Harry's, "You can do this. I believe in you," he said like he really believed it.

Harry exhaled and leaned his forehead against Draco, closing his eyes.

"I do believe in you, Harry."

He nodded and took a slow deep breath. He thought of Remus, thought of Sirius, thought of Teddy, and his own parents. He thought of Hermione and the Weasleys, of Dobby and even Kreacher, he thought of Hagrid. He thought about that scared, lonely little boy in the cupboard under the stairs. He thought of all of the people he knew who had been hurt by a broken system and he squared his shoulders. "It's got to be for something, right?" he said.

"You always say that," Draco said, thumb brushing over Harry's cheek, "But you've already saved the world once. You being you is enough." He brushed the curls back off of Harry's forehead, "You're alive and that's enough, darling."

Harry kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, until he was dizzy with love, until the only thing in his mind was Draco, was this moment.

"Someday could be today," Draco said when they broke apart to breathe. "We could just leave, go abroad somewhere, live in the muggle world. It could be today."

"I love you," Harry whispered because he did, because it was the only thing he was certain of some days.

"I love you, too."

Harry kissed Draco's nose and let the thought of someday, of their future, rest in his mind. He soaked up the promise of their life together and the back up plan that if everything went to hell they could just disappear. "Well, the day is starting without me. I've a meeting with Kingsley in twenty minutes."

"I can't wait to see the chaos throughout the day," Draco laughed. "I almost wish you could be there to see it."

"You'll have to tell me about it," he agreed. "The Quibbler article hits the newsstands this morning, that'll start things is motion."

Draco nodded and brushed his hands down Harry's chest. "Don't forget to play nice with The Prophet. They're going to publish bull shit either way, but it's better if it's not true."

"Is Pansy going to help?" he asked. Pansy was the one person that Draco had told about them, their relationship the closely guarded secret that it was.

He lifted a shoulder, "She's not going to be completely horrid. But it would look suspicious if she just started writing glowing things about you."

"Right," he said.

"Chin up," Draco said, nudging his chin with his pointer finger. "You've got this."

"I've got this," he repeated.

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He sat outside of Kingsley's office, fidgeting and tugging at the loose string on his cardigan. The secretary tutted at him and he tried to ignore her, tried not to let this feel like it was a precursor for what was to come.

The door to Kingsley's office opened and several people exited, nodding distractedly at Harry as the walked past.

"Harry," Kingsley said with a warm smile in his direction, "Come in. I'm sorry for keeping you waiting."

"You're very busy," Harry replied steadily. "I understand."

Kingsley gave him a small smile, "Can I get you a cup of coffee?" he asked as he moved to the coffee bar at the side of the office.

"Um," he said, "Sure. Yeah."

"Cream? Sugar?"

"Yes," he replied, his heart hammering in his throat.

The other man returned a moment later, cups of coffee in hand and he sat down in the chair next to Harry instead of on the other side of the desk. "So," he said as he offered a cup of coffee to Harry, "What can I do for you?"

"I'm running for Minister of Magic," he blurted.

Kingsley blinked and set his cup down on his saucer, "I'm sorry?"

He exhaled and straightened his shoulders, "You know that I think very highly of you," he began, just as he'd rehearsed in his head dozens of times. "You're a good man and I advocated for you as Minister last year after the War."

"Harry-"

"Please," he said, shaking his head, "Just let me get through this."

"Alright," Kingsley replied, leaning back in his chair and crossing his right leg over his left.

"I think you've done admirably cleaning up so much of the mess that was left from the war and I think that you were the best person for that job."

"But..." Kingsley prompted.

"But," Harry said, "It feels like so much is still the same as it was pre-war. I've been running in the political circles trying to get small accomplishments through since the War ended. But nothing is changing, the number of people effected by lycanthropy has increased exponentially but we haven't done anything to help increase funding in the hospitals, we haven't made any progress on making wolfsbane potions more affordable, we haven't helped to reduce the stigma against them.

"Mental health," he went on, "is at an all time low. The therapists we have are overwhelmed with patients. Many people who would benefit the most since they were the most affected by the war can't even get appointments or a therapist because of the shortage and because we haven't made it affordable.

"We haven't built more orphanages in spite of the number of children orphaned, we've shoved them into muggle homes and muggle orphanages. And we haven't done anything to train muggles with what to look for or how to help the children they're taking in.

"We haven't addressed all of the underlying issues in the school system. The Ministry has a direct hand in making policies that are in place at Hogwarts and we all know that it is complete trash. The people making decisions don't know the first thing about being a teacher or how to actually educate children.

"We haven't addressed the disparity between wizards and other magical creatures," he continued. "That stupid statue is still standing in the entry way. And let's be honest, we are the least powerful of so many magical creatures, we're just the most ruthless."

"Harry," Kingsley said, "These changes take time."

"Maybe," he conceded, "but I'm sick of being the only person in the room who isn't just congratulating everyone around them on doing nothing and profiting off of the backs of those who did."

"I hear you," he said.

Harry swallowed, "Maybe I won't win," he said. "Maybe politics really are won and decided behind the closed doors that I won't be privy to," he conceded, "But at least I'll get to bring these things to light. At least the people who are suffering will know that someone sees them, that someone cares about what is happening to them."

Kingsley was quiet for a moment. "I respect what you are trying to do," he said. "But you're still a child."

Harry laughed, the sound humorless and devoid of any amusement, "No," he said. "No, when I was actually a child, I was used by the people in power as a pawn to defeat a mostly immortal madman. Everyone, the Ministry included, was happy to let me do the work of an adult then. After that," Harry said with a shrug, "This should be a piece of cake."

"Well," Kingsley said, "Don't let me stand in your way."

"I just," he rubbed his forehead, "I wanted you to know that it wasn't about you."

"I'm not self-centered enough to believe that anything in politics is about me," he said with a booming chuckle.

He gave him a little smile, "And I wanted you to hear it from me. It'll be in the papers today."

"Alright," he said, patting Harry on the shoulder. "Thank you for telling me."

He nodded, "I should go. I'm sure you've got a full day. And truth be told, I have quite a few appearances to make today as well."

Kingsley stood as Harry did and held out a hand, shaking Harry's with both of his, "Thanks for stopping in."

"Thanks for your time," he said, relieved by how well this had gone, perhaps it was a good omen for all that was to come.

"Good luck," Kingsley called encouragingly, but as he closed the door he thought he heard Kingsley mutter, "You're going to need it."

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part two, | part four

#Drarry #Politician harry #love #political au #I know very little about politics #send help #taking on the ministry #taking on corruption #part 3 #slowly but surely working through all of the pieces #100 drarry drabbles in 100 days

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