#michael samuelle x reader

[alexsnerdycorner]

Carry on My Wayward Daughter - Chapter 5

[gretavangroupie]

Goldenrod

Word count: 8.1k

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Angst, Toxic Themes and Behavior, Jealousy. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Oral M!Receiving, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Fluff.

A/N: I blame Josh Kiszka, entirely.

It’s a nice place, with tea light candles and fresh flowers on every table. Tucked away on the West side of Nashville, far from the wide eyed tourists and the flashing city lights. It’s quaint, but always busy. A reservation here would cost you. A name or your checkbook, either one will do. You wonder how he managed it, who he knows or what he does. You’d been here only once before, strings pulled and names dropped no doubt. 

The hostess led you to your table, smack dab in the center of the restaurant, commanding all the eyes and attention of the patrons around you. With a curt smile you tucked into your chair and waited for your date. You weren’t really sure why you agreed to this, but after several failed attempts on your own you finally caved. Cambry is a terrible influence and you knew better than to go on a date with a man of her choosing, but here you found yourself in a swanky restaurant at a table for two. 

You didn’t put too much effort into your outfit, opting for a tight black dress and a pair of gold earrings. It showed off your figure without revealing too much. It was tasteful and sexy, everything you want on a first date. 

You knew nothing of the man you were meeting apart from his name. Simon. Cambry assured you that he was perfect for you, claiming how similar the two of you were and citing you had similar taste in music. So, you agreed. 

You couldn’t fault him too much for being late, the traffic absolutely horrendous as you made your way through Midtown. You perused the drink menu, placing your order for a dirty martini when the waiter stopped at your table. As you sipped at the briney drink you felt a presence behind you, and you knew Simon must have arrived. 

A tall man, with long dirty blonde hair stepped up to the seat across from you, lifting his hand to shake yours. 

“Hi, I’m Simon. Sorry I’m late, the traffic–”

“Was terrible, I know,” you laugh, shaking his hand. “Y/N.”

He takes his seat as his eyes dart around your face taking you in. “You got a drink I see, any recommendations? I’ve never been here before.”

“I was wondering how you were able to pull a reservation so last minute,” you answer, pushing the drink menu towards him. 

“Ah, called up one of my buddies, works tickets down at Nissan Stadium. Was no trouble,” he boasts as if entry level ticket sales is something to be proud of. 

You smile politely and nod your head, “I got a dirty martini, they are heavy handed on the vermouth so I order gin instead of vodka.”

“Dirty, huh?” he smirks, opening the drink menu. 

You offer a clipped smile, already not liking this guy too much. His frat boy vibes are a little too strong for your liking, and quite frankly is the opposite of what you have ever been into. The waiter steps up a few seconds later, noticing that your date has arrived. 

“What can I get for you sir?”

“I don’t know what all this fancy shit is, do you have Bud Light?” he asks, rapping his knuckles against the table. 

“Um, no sir, I believe the only beer we have on tap is Thunder Ann from Jackalope,” he offers with a pleasant smile. 

“Was that English?” Simon jokes, however, it is not well received by your waiter or yourself. 

“I could bring you a sample if you’d like?” 

He blows out a breath of defeat, “I’ll just have what she’s having, but make mine stronger.”

You raise an eyebrow at his demand, silently kicking yourself for ever agreeing to this. 

The waiter nods and heads off and a sense of dread washes over you as you realize you are about to enter into forced conversation with this stranger. 

“So how do you know Cambry?” he asks, leaning back in his chair like he's at his mothers house. 

You swallow down the distaste and try to answer his question, “Cambry and I work together. She is my office suitemate.”

“Oh so you work at the little music place, too?” he asks, downplaying your career to boost his own ego. 

“I don’t think Sony Music Publishing is a ‘little music place’ but I guess everyone is entitled to their opinion,” you jest.

“What do you do there?” he asks, accepting his drink from the waiter. He takes far too large of a sip before you can answer, shocking the both of you. 

“I’m an account executive, so I do sales, client management, data reports, that kind of thing. How about you? What do you do?” you ask, genuinely curious about what he could possibly do that he would need to belittle your career. 

“Oh well, right now I am kinda just playing the corporate field so to speak. I’ve got a few sweet options in my pocket, but uh, right now I am working down at AT&T. You know that Batman looking building. It’s pretty chill,” he says in an attempt to flaunt.

“Yeah, I know it well actually. What do you do there?” you ask. 

“I’m a field sales representative,” he answers, his voice dropping a little. You feel your eyes practically bulge from their sockets. 

“So, you don’t like, physically work in the building,” you confirm. 

“I mean, I report there at the end of the day,” he replies, trying to blow smoke.

“So if you report there at the end of the day, where do you spend your day?” you ask. 

“Kind of everywhere. I do a lot of driving around. I was able to secure a deal with a new Mexican restaurant over in Hendersonville. They want full fiber and phones. Pretty sweet, might even make a commission on it,” he says pridefully. 

“Wow, a commission too? They are spoiling you,” you taunt. 

“Yeah, I’m about to move up, gonna put me into commercial sales. More office time and less road time,” he says, folding up his menu. Your mind is positively racing at how Cambry thought you two would be a perfect match when he couldn’t be more different than you. 

“So uh, what are you thinking you want to eat?” he asks. 

“I think I might do the farmhouse pasta, the sun dried tomatoes sound good,” you answer, closing your menu as well. 

“Yeah I’m gonna get a steak, I bet they are good here,” he says waving over the waiter. Your face blushes red as he makes a scene to grab his attention.

“Yes sir, we are ready to order,” Simon states, opening up his menu. “I’m gonna have the Porterhouse with mushrooms well done and can you bring a side of ketchup?” 

You think that if your eyes rolled any harder you could see your brain, but alas you must keep your composure and make it through this trainwreck of a date.  

“For you miss?”

“Yes, could I please do the farmhouse pasta? I will also do one more dirty martini,” you smile, hoping the waiter can sense the apology in your tone. 

“Great, I will be back,” he says, stepping away with the gentle nod of his head. 

The evening continues on as you listen to him tell you every uninteresting fact about himself while he dips his shoe leather of a steak in ketchup. You have a hard time finding your own meal appetizing as you watch him eat, a tiny dribble of ketchup at the corner of his lips. He barely gives you a chance to speak as he relives his fraternity glory days, telling you every close call he has ever had with the police and every famous person’s door he’s knocked on since he moved here from Mississippi. 

You down your drink probably a little too fast, trying to decide if you will need another to make it through the last part of this date. You know you will never speak to this man again, and you know you will be giving Cambry a firm talking to come Monday morning. 

The waiter steps up to the table with the check, placing it in front of Simon who sends him a puzzled look. “Oh, actually she’s getting the check tonight.”

“Am I?” you ask, a little confused yourself. You had no problem going dutch, but to be told you were taking the entire responsibility of the bill was a bit of a shock. 

“I mean, yeah, Cambry said you wanted this date, so… I figured since it was your idea, you were paying. I didn’t bring my wallet.”

You feel your mouth go dry at the audacity of his assumption. “I have no problem going dutch,” you say. 

“Yeah, it’s just I didn’t bring my wallet,” he counters, shrugging his shoulders. “I can Venmo you later or something.”

You bite your tongue as you reach for your purse, knowing there is an extremely high chance that this meal will drain his checking account. 

“It’s fine, I can get it. No problem,” you say, pulling your wallet from your purse. Just as you unzip it you feel someone walk up behind you, and the sight of a hand on the waiter's arm. The person leans towards the waiter, saying something quietly in his ear as he slips a silver metal credit card into his hand. 

As you look up you recognize the mass of curls and the crisp white linen. The smell of his cologne forever ingrained in your memory.  Your eyes flash over to Simon who is just as confused as you are, watching the interaction. A few more words are spoken between the waiter and the man you now know is Josh. Your ex. 

The waiter scurries off with Josh’s card just as he turns to face you with a shit eating grin. He then casts a lethal glance to Simon, who at this point is looking rather small. 

“Don’t you know it's distasteful to make your date pay?” he asks, venom in his voice. 

“And you are?” Simon snaps. 

“Well, from my place at the bar I thought I was the competition, but now I’m fairly positive that is not the case. My name is Josh, and I would ask yours but quite frankly I don’t care to know.”

“Josh!” you yelp. 

“What darling, you can’t deny the facts. I’ve been sitting at the bar since you arrived. Was quite the unexpected show, I must admit,” he pauses, “If I’ve misjudged your evening, which, I’m sure I haven’t based on your body language alone, please do feel free to correct me.”

“We’re actually on a date, man,” Simon speaks up, taking you and Josh both by surprise as you turn to stare at him. 

Josh just snickers, shaking his head before turning to you. “Have you had enough, sweets?”

“What do you want, Joshua?” you ask, a little annoyed at his brazenness. 

He cups your chin with his thumb and forefinger as he gives you a knowing look, “Is this what you want? You want me to go?”

You push his hand away and cross your arms over your chest, refusing to answer his question.

“Fuck this,” Simon spouts, pushing away from the table and storming out of the restaurant. 

Josh quickly takes his seat, sitting across from you as he folds his hands on the table. “You’re welcome,” he taunts, accepting the check book back from the waiter.

“A pleasure Mr. Kiszka,” he nods, walking away. 

“Mr. Kiszka? They know you by name here?” you groan, watching a sideways grin pull across his full lips. His eyes glance down to the plate of half eaten food in front of him.

“A well done steak with ketchup? My, my, darling have your standards dipped that low?” he asks, signing the receipt and closing the book. You roll your eyes and reach for your martini glass, however his hand snakes out to grab it first, tossing the rest of it back. 

“What the hell,” you growl. 

“You dumped me for a broke asshole?” he asks, sitting back in the chair. 

“He might have been broke, but I bet he could fuck me more than once every three months,” you snap, pulling ammo from your failed past. 

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, “Now, now, retract the claws sweetness, be my good girl, yeah?”

“I’m not your anything, Josh, and I don’t know what you think is about to happen here, but I can promise you it’s not.”

He stabs at the olive in the martini glass, popping it between his lips. “You sure about that?”

“You completely derailed my date,” you bark. 

“Oh, please Y/N. You were ready to go the moment he introduced himself, late, might I add. You were entirely repulsed through dinner, and you couldn't get a word in edgewise. It may have been a year or so since we called it quits, but I still know you like the back of my hand, darling.”

“You don’t know me like that anymore, Josh.”

He chews the olive as a hum rings through his chest, “Is that why your thighs are clenched together under the table right now, for the first time tonight? Why you can’t seem to sit still, squirming everytime I look at you? The pretty pink blush on your cheeks that happened to appear as soon as I stole his seat? Because I just don’t know you anymore?”

You shake your head and look away, pushing him out of your mind. 

“Look at me, Y/N,” he demands, and instinctually you turn your head. “Own it.”

You meet his eyes and huff out an annoyed breath. “You can’t just walk up to me and think we are going to pick up where we left off. I left you for a reason, Josh.”

“Are you ready to go now that you’ve said your piece?” he asks, pushing his chair away from the table. 

“I drove myself here, and I’ll drive myself home,” you quip. 

“After two martinis, I don’t think so, sweetness. I’ll send for your car in the morning,” he insists. 

“Send for my car? What are you, the Pope?” 

“Only the one time if you remember correctly,” he jokes, offering his hand to help you stand from your chair. You take it begrudgingly, grabbing your purse and smoothing out your dress. 

“Stunning as usual, love. You know I love that silhouette on you,” he says, ushering the two of you out the door and into the parking lot. He drives a different car now, which is probably why you didn't recognize it in the lot when you arrived. 

“It wasn’t for you,” you gripe. 

“But it was for him? Mister can’t even split the check?” he counters. 

“Again, he may not be made of money, but he at least listened the few times I was able to get a word in,” you snap. 

Josh sucks his teeth as he opens the passenger door, helping you climb inside. It’s spacious and smells of new leather. A string of beads hangs from the rearview mirror and a tiny crystal lays haphazardly in the center console. He joins you seconds later, starting the car and backing out of the parking space. 

“Where are you taking me?” you question, although you’re fairly certain you know the answer. 

“Home,” he snickers, taking a right out of the parking lot. 

“You don’t know where I live, I moved,” you say, shifting your body in the seat. 

“No, no. I said, I am taking you home.”

“What if I don’t want to go?” you ask, fully lying to yourself and to him and he knows it. 

“I did always like it when you played hard to get,” he smiles, moving his hand to rest on your bare leg. “But your body gives you away everytime.”

“Where’d you find him?” he asks, letting his eyes flick over to yours for just a second. 

“Cambry,” you answer, a twinge of defeat in your voice. 

“Cambry? Come on, baby, you know she has the worst taste in men,” he groans, merging onto the freeway with ease. 

“I didn’t really have a choice, and she oversold him, clearly,” you answer. 

“So you’re still at Sony, then?”

“I am, though I’ve been considering a career change, maybe even a city change,” you lie.

“Had enough of Nashville?” he jests.

“The people that reside here,” you taunt. 

“Fair enough,” he concedes. 

His fingers trace circles into your skin, lighting little fires with every pass. “You stopped answering my calls,” he trails off. 

“That is typical of a break up Josh…”

“Baby–”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap. 

“What can I call you?” he asks. 

“Nothing, you can take me home and send my car in the morning,” you answer. 

His grip on your leg tightens, his thumb passing over your knee. You feel warm beneath his touch, a calmness washing over you. This is always how he got you. 

“It was one fight, Y/N! I know I fucked up, but–” he shouts, losing his calm and cool composure for a millisecond. 

“Josh…” you whine, not wanting to hash this out again.

As you pull up to a red light he turns to look at you, moving his hand from your leg and grabbing your hand instead. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. Just– come over for a little bit. Let’s talk. Catch up a little. Don’t let your night be a complete loss, you look too pretty. Let me appreciate you,” he says, squeezing your hand. 

Your eyes meet his, sparkling and encased by his thick lashes. “Okay,” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

You roll your eyes and nod your head, “Yes, fine. Just to catch up.”

The light changes and you swear he did twenty over the speed limit the rest of the way to his house. He has a smirk on his lips that he can’t seem to shake, and his hand hasn't left yours.

“Why were you at the bar alone?” you ask, the gin making you feel a little more brave than usual. 

“I like the food, and they make my drink the right way. You know I don’t like going into the city, too many people, and the guys were all busy tonight. I think I was right where I needed to be though. Got you out of that shitty date,” he laughs. 

“It was pretty shitty,” you agree, flashing him a smile. 

“Missed that,” he says, turning into his driveway. “That smile. Lights up a room.”

“Stop,” you say, playfully pushing his shoulder. “Don’t suck up now after you were all bossy and demanding at the restaurant.”

“Worked though,” he grins, shrugging his shoulders and shutting off the car. 

“Did it?”

“You’re here…” he says, tipping his chin. 

“To talk. To catch up,” you counter. 

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” he says, helping you out of the car and shutting the door behind you. He guides you up to the front door with his hand on the small of your back, shoving his key into the lock and opening the door. 

You’re instantly transported back in time. A time when this was your safe place, when this was your landing pad of comfort. A home you shared together. Warm and welcoming. Until, it wasn’t. It was a big empty house with nothing but the echo of your own voice for months on end. The place you would listen to your calls ring out with no answer and texts would sit on delivered for days. 

It was hard to leave him, your personal ray of light. The good times were the greatest, and the bad times were worse than the worst. You met your breaking point and all you could think of was starting over. Living a normal life with a normal job and a normal relationship. 

You’d grown a little since that day, finding yourself and establishing your own roots in the city. You cut off contact completely. Josh never gave up though. He was persistent, you’d give him that. He tried to reconcile things, promised to fix it, promised to do better, but after so many failed attempts, you couldn’t do it anymore. You needed to see this through, for yourself. 

It took almost a year but he did stop calling. Stopped checking in. Your heart ached for him. You wondered if you’d made a mistake. You knew you never really stopped loving him. How could you stop loving someone like him? He took your heart and cast it in gold, giving a piece of himself to you to carry when he was away, but still it wasn’t enough. You needed more than he could give you then. 

“You redecorated,” you ponder. 

“A bit. Just some new furniture, art and things I picked up on the road,” he says, tossing his keys on the table. “You like it?”

You nod your head, “Yeah, I do. It feels very… you.” you pause, “It feels warm.”

He walks into the kitchen, pulling two lowball glasses from the cabinet before reaching for the tequila on top of the fridge. He holds the bottle up towards you in question and you nod your head, knowing you aren’t leaving tonight. 

He pours the tequila into the glasses, topping them with sparkling water and a handful of ice as you walk over to join him. He slides the glass to you and holds his up to tap against yours. 

“Glad you’re here, baby,” he breathes. 

“Josh…”

“Sorry, old habit,” he blushes, taking a sip of his drink. 

You join him, taking a long pull from the glass letting the bubbles slip down your throat. He made it perfect, just how you like it. 

“Shall we?” he asks, pushing off the counter top and making his way into the living room. You follow behind him taking the seat next to him on the couch. You settle into the leather cushions as he shoots up again. 

“Wait, hold on,” he says, walking across the room. He struts across the wood floors carrying himself in a way much different than you have ever seen him. He looks confident and seems to be floating. He grabs a small remote and turns down the lights, casting the room in a much dimmer light. 

“Do you always walk around like that?” you ask, sipping from the rim of your glass. 

“Like what?” he asks, returning to his place next to you. 

“Like…like you’re made of gold,” you giggle, letting the tequila warm your blood. 

“What if I am?” he challenges. 

“What, made of gold?” 

“Mhmm,” he hums. 

“Kinda seems like it sometimes,” you confess. 

“Yeah?”

“You kinda glow,” you answer. 

“Optical illusion, sweets,” he grins.

“I don’t know, you’ve always kinda been that way. Glowy…” you offer, feeling a little hazy. 

“You flirting with me now?” he asks, his lips turning up into a grin. 

“No,” you growl, “Can I not give you a compliment?”

“Absolutely. Please do continue, I’m quite enjoying it,” he laughs, throwing his arm across the back of the couch. His fingertips brush your shoulder and you shudder at the contact. 

“Has it been that long, darling?”

“What?” you question, turning to meet his eyes. His fingers graze against your skin again, goosebumps rising to the surface. 

“Oh, say it isn’t so, baby. Break my heart,” he whines. 

“What, Josh?”

“You’re touch starved aren’t you sweetness,” he says, his eyes searching yours. 

“No, I’m fine,” you lie. You look away, knowing he was always able to read you like a book. 

“Look at me, Y/N,” he snaps. You turn your head and meet his eyes again. “Don’t lie to me again. You know that never went well for you.”

You bite your lips together as your cheeks grow red hot. Part of you wants to push him a little more, force him to make good on his threat. The other part of you knows you should leave before he sucks you in. 

“Tell me how long,” he says, resting his hand on the curve of your neck. 

You blow out a breath and shake your head, “It’s not important,” you answer. 

“Is to me, always important to me,” he urges. 

“Why do you want to know?”

“I want to know that you were being taken care of,” he pauses, “I don’t think that’s a crime.”

“It’s been… a minute,” you confess. 

“Baby,” he breathes. 

“It’s fine, Josh. Really.”

“It’s not,” he snaps. “How long, love? You can tell me. It’s just me.”

“God! Since we split! Okay?! Is that what you want to hear?! That I haven’t fucked anyone since you?!” you shout, burying your head in your hands. You feel his hand rest on your back, warm and firm. 

“Oh, my love. No wonder you’re so feisty. Wound up tighter than a two dollar watch. My girl needs a little relief, doesn’t she,” he asks. 

You turn your head in your hands to look at him, his face serious and dripping with lust. You push yourself up off of the couch, pacing around the living room. 

“I don’t want your pity, Josh.”

“It’s not pity darling, you’d know if it was,” he retorts. 

“Well whatever it is, I don’t want it,” you snap. 

He blows out a deep breath and clears his throat, “I’ve had just about enough of your mouth tonight,” he growls. “Why don’t you come back over here and try again, yeah?”

You stare at him from across the room, arms crossed over your chest in an effort to conceal your nipples that have grown hard just from the demanding quality of his voice. 

“You can drop the act, I know you want me just as bad as I want you. If you want me to beg, crawl on my hands and knees for you, you know I’ll do it, but I think your body is begging for me harder than I ever could.”

You roll your eyes, and look away. 

“Am I wrong? Tell me I’m wrong.”

You huff out a breath, “No,” you whisper. 

“What’s that?”

“I said no,” you answer. 

A smirk pulls across his lips, “No, what?”

You feel your chest grow warm and you swallow thickly, “No, sir.”

He clicks his tongue, “Don’t call me sir, that's my brother. Try again, love.”

“No, baby,” you breathe. 

“That’s better. Much better. Come back over here,” he says, motioning you over with two fingers. 

He reaches for your hand as you approach him, pulling you down onto his lap. Your legs fall to either side of his hips as you straddle him, the position feeling familiar and comforting. 

“There’s my girl,” he growls, leaning forward to place his drink on the coffee table. His hands move to grip at your hips, holding you in place as he sinks a little further beneath you. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t enjoying this, feeling his hands on you and the evidence of his want as it grew beneath you. 

“Not yours, Josh,” you say, letting your hands land on his chest. 

“Liar,” he breathes, rolling his hips into you, eliciting a whine from your chest. You hear him laugh, “Your body says otherwise.”

“My body has never been able to say no to you,” you admit. 

“And that's what I love about it, baby. Mine even when you aren’t.”

A sigh falls from your lips as his thumb drags over your lips, “Kiss me, Josh,” you beg.

A grin pulls across his lips as he pulls you by the back of your neck towards him. His soft, warm lips brush yours just slightly, enough to pull a whine from your chest. 

“Now who’s begging?” he murmurs. Your eyes meet his, dark and lust filled before he crashes his lips to yours. His hands grip at your head as if he’s afraid you might fly away, his fingers twisting into your hair.

His tongue slides against yours, the taste of him so sweet and familiar. There would never be anyone that tasted better, you were sure of it. His hands slid down your face and over your shoulders, reaching for your hands as they sat on his chest. He wrapped his hands around yours, linking his fingers with yours the best he could, just holding you in a way you’ve desperately missed over the last year without him. 

“Josh…” you breathe. 

His lips break away from yours, his cheeks pink and his lips glossy, “Yeah, baby?”

You hesitate asking your question, momentarily debating whether you truly want to know or not, but you know if this night is going to continue, you have to know. 

“How long…” you pause, “How long for you?” It comes out breathless, his warm hands in yours as his lips hover over yours. 

He pulls back a touch, licking his lips and swallowing harshly, “A month or two,” he answers honestly. 

Your traitorous eyes fill with tears and you do your best to blink them away. You drop your head in an effort to conceal your emotions, knowing this is all entirely your fault to begin with. His hand releases yours and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

“They were never you. Not a single one of them could ever be you.”

You nod your head and swallow the lump in your throat, “Then why?”

“It’s been a year, baby. I never thought I’d have you again,” he confesses. 

“But you want me?” you ask, just wanting to hear him say it. 

“Is that not clear? Of course I want you. I never stopped wanting you. You stopped wanting me.”

You shake your head, “I didn’t. I swear I didn’t, I just– It was too hard, I couldn’t do it anymore. It hurt too much.”

He grabs your face in his hands again, holding eye contact with you. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I know I messed up. I’ve thought of it every single day since you left. I’m so sorry.”

You can see it in his eyes that he means it this time. The urgency in his voice and the trembling of his hands against your face prove it. You decide at that moment to cast the memories of the past to the wind and fall headfirst into him, the way you’ve dreamt of for months. 

You press your lips to his, smiling, “Tequila always did make you all mushy, baby.”

A smile pulls across his lips as he stands from the couch, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he makes his way to the stairs. His lips connect to your jaw, peppering kisses up and down your neck with every step he takes. 

It’s seconds before you’re tossed onto the bed. The bed you’ve missed so terribly. The bed that smells of him and his linen sheets. You melt into the comforter, your body relaxing almost immediately. Your eyes close and all you can hear is the shedding of clothes across the room, and the tinkling of beads as Josh places his necklace on the dresser. 

You feel his hand as it comes to rest on your foot, sliding up the length of your body and stopping just as it reaches the hem of your dress. You sit up on your elbows to look at him, standing at the end of the bed in his boxers. 

His gaze is fixed upon you, devouring your every inch.

“Joshy?” you breathe. 

He drops his head for a second before looking back at you, “God I haven’t heard that in so long,” he whines. “What sweetness?”

“Come lay down with me,” you ask. 

He licks his lips and crawls onto the bed, laying down next to you and resting his hand on your hip. “Hi beautiful.”

“Hi baby,” you whisper, rolling towards him. You lay your head on his shoulder, listening to his heart as it pounds erratically in his chest. 

“I missed this bed,” you whisper against his skin. 

“I missed you in this bed,” he pauses, “Terribly lonely without you.”

“Not too lonely it sounds like,” you tease, sitting up and stepping off of the bed.  

“Baby, I–”

“I’m kidding, Josh. I don’t mind. Well, not completely anyway.”

You pull the zipper on the back of your dress, letting it fall to the floor and instinctively kicking it to the chair at the side of the bed like you'd done a thousand times before. 

“So you care a little?” he smirks, taking in the sight of your matching lingerie. “Jesus, was that for him?”

“If all went well,” you answer cheekily, crawling back onto the bed. 

“Over my dead body,” he growls, grabbing your arm and pulling you to lay on top of him. 

“It was for me. I needed a little confidence boost.”

“Baby, what? Why? You were always so confident and cool,” he asks, furrowing his brow. 

“Not lately… A few failed dates will do that to you I guess,” you admit. 

“No, no no no no. Don’t let a few pricks dull your glow, sweetness. You’re everything. They’d be lucky to have you.”

You push up off of him, crawling backwards down the bed as you place a few errant kisses across his stomach. Your eyes never leave his as you stop above his waistband, sliding your nails against the elastic. 

“What if I never wanted them,” you ask. 

He sucks in a breath as your finger dips beneath the band, slightly tugging at the fabric. 

“What do you want?” he asks, his eyes searching yours. 

You pull his boxers over his hips watching his cock spring free to slap against his groin. You take him in your hand, watching as his face twists up in pleasure. 

“Tell me,” he growls through gritted teeth. 

Instead of answering him you let your tongue lick a hot stripe from his base to his tip, tasting the bitter sweetness of his precum on your tongue. His core tightens as you take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue against his length, feeling every vein and the rapid pulse pounding through him. 

His hand finds the side of your face, tucking your hair behind your ear as he watches you take him down so easily, remembering exactly how he likes it. You grip his base as you work him, hollowing your cheeks as you eyes meet his. His lips are parted, a heavy breath leaving his chest as his grip on your hair tightens. You take him farther, swallowing around his tip as he nudges the back of your throat, sending him spiraling in his own bliss. 

“Fuck, baby, please…” he begs. 

You pop off of him, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his length. “Please what?”

“Please let me fuck you,” he asnwers, panting as he desperately awaits your mouths return to him. 

“I’m kind of enjoying myself here,” you tease, taking him into your throat again. 

“Fucking hell, you’re so goddamn sexy. I fucking– I–” he stammers, groaning as you swallow around him again. 

“You think of this, baby? You miss sucking my cock? My good fucking girl,” he asks, jerking his hips up off of the bed. “You think of me like I think of you?”

You groan as your tongue swirls at his tip, letting your eyes meet his. 

“Answer me,” he demands. 

You pull off of him quickly, a spit covered mess, “Yes, yes baby,” you whine. 

“Missed your mouth, your perfect fucking mouth. Your lips, your tongue, everything,” he growls, a moan leaving his chest as you suction your mouth around him. “Pull off baby, not yet. Not ready yet.”

You do as you're told, pulling off of him and wiping your lips on the back of your hand. He grabs your chin and pulls you toward him, his wet cock laying against your panties. His lips meet yours, swollen and pink and still glistening with your spit. He’s desperate to taste you, to devour you completely. You feel his hands slide over your waist and up to your bra, unclasping the hooks and pulling the straps from your arms. He pulls it from between you in one move, before turning you to your back to take in the sight of you. 

His eyes practically bulge from his head as he looks at you. “You– You pierced your nipples? When did you? Wha– Fucking Christ.”

A smile spreads across your face. It's not very often you can catch Josh off guard like this, so you’re taking this small victory. 

“About seven months ago, on a whim,” you answer. 

“Anything else I should know about before I have a stroke?” he laughs. 

“Why don’t you just find out?” you say playfully, just wanting to see his reaction. 

He pulls the elastic of your panties over your hips, tossing the lacy garment to the floor. His tongue darts out over his lips as he looks at you, as if deciding where he wants to start. Though, you knew Josh, and he would forever be a victim to his own fascination with shiny objects. 

His lips wrap around your nipple, his tongue gently flicking over the golden barbell. You lace your fingers into his curls, scratching at his roots as his teeth graze the sensitive bud in his mouth. 

“Josh,” you whine, arching your back beneath him. 

“Mhmm,” he whines, not letting his lips detach from you. 

“Missed your touch,” you answer. 

He pulls off of your right breast and kisses his way to your left, treating your left nipple with the same reverence as the previous. You grab his hand and pull his fingers to your lips, sucking his first two digits into your mouth and letting your tongue twist against them. 

You hear him groan against you, the sensation becoming a little too overwhelming for him. 

“You okay, baby?”

He pulls off of you, still staring down at the shiny gold bars adorning your nipples. 

“No, fuck no, I’m never gonna stop thinking about these,” he says through a pant. 

A laugh bubbles up from your chest as his hand meets your chest, sliding down your stomach and stopping at your hip. 

“You gonna let me in, sweetness?” he asks, biting at his bottom lip. 

A smirk pulls at your lips as you look at him, nodding gently. His hand slides down further, his fingers dusting across your folds. Your body quivers at his gentle touch, a small grin of satisfaction on his lips. 

“You want it?”

“Stop teasing, Josh,” you whine. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I know you need it. I’ll give you what you want. You know that, right?”

You nod furiously, just wanting him to touch you. Needing it more than anything. “Yes, yes, I know. Please…”

He bends forward and presses a kiss to your stomach, two fingers sinking into your wetness. You jerk towards him as his fingertips press to your clit, a whine escaping your lips before you can stop it. He hums as his fingers start to circle through your wetness, his lip bitten firmly between his teeth. His eyes are dark as they stare into yours, watching your every move and memorizing every expression.

“You feel so good, baby. Missed this so bad,” he breathes, teasing your entrance. 

“You could have had anyone,” you whisper. 

“I didn’t want anyone. Just you.”

His fingers dip into you, finding the place they once knew so well. Your hand moves to rest on his bicep, stronger now than they once were, the muscle rounded and defined. In fact, all of him is that way. Lean and fit, stronger and more chiseled. The thought alone makes you clench around his fingers. 

“Yeah?” 

“You feel so– so different. Stronger,” you say. 

“Needed something to fill the time,” he smiles, curling his fingers inside of you. You cry out in bliss as your stomach starts to tighten. 

“So good, baby,” you cry. 

“Yeah, you gonna come for me? You gonna come right on my fingers, so needy and sweet,” he urges. His fingers are moving rapidly, working you toward your release better than you could have imagined. 

“Ease into it, baby. Don’t rush it. I’m right here, not going anywhere. I’m yours,” he says, his voice soft and comforting. 

Your eyes meet his, desperate and lust filled, “Mine?” 

He nods his head quickly, “Yours,” he pauses, “If you want, I just– I’m here, okay? Take your time, feel it. Breathe it in, savor it. I’m here.”

“I want it,” you plead.

“Have it, have me,” he breathes. 

His fingers move at a relentless pace, fingertips massaging into you with such precision it’s like a year never passed. Your chest grows hot and your stomach tightens as his eyes meet yours, both of you knowing you’re on the edge of release. 

“Do it. Take it baby,” he growls. 

“Josh,” you whine, reaching for his hand and twisting your fingers with his. His grip is tight on you, grounding you the way you need him to. 

With another flick of his thumb across your clit, you’re sent spiraling into your release. You’d never been able to replicate the way it feels when it's by his hand, and you were sure no other man could. His hand slows as your eyes open, finding his full of desire as they stare back at you. 

He grins as he presses a kiss to your mound, slowly pulling his fingers from inside you. Your body is shaking with adrenaline, the want for him coursing through you like never before. You need him. You need him now.

“Josh, now,” you pant, your chest still heaving as you catch your breath. 

He doesn’t hesitate. There are no witty remarks, no jokes, no playful banter at all. Just the need the two of you share for each other taking center stage. He pushes up and crawls up towards you, falling into the space between your legs. He pushes them further apart with his knees, fisting at his base as he stares at you. You swear you can see his heart pounding in his chest, and you know he needs this as badly as you do. 

He lowers himself down to you, brushing his tip through your folds. Your hands come up to his face, cradling his cheeks as you press your lips to his. It's different this time, a little less desperate, more intentional. He lets himself slowly sink inside of you as his lips dance with yours, filling you so fully and so completely, the way he always had. 

He bottoms out inside of you, sliding his arm beneath your hips to pull you in close. His eyes meet yours in question and you nod, letting him know you need more. He begins to slowly move his hips, rolling into you at a fairly gentle pace, soaking in every inch of you and savoring every sound that falls from your lips. 

Your hands wrap around his waist, pulling him in tighter, desperate for all of him. He groans as your chest presses against his, the coolness of the metal bars against his warm, dewy skin pulling a groan from his chest. 

“Baby,” he whines, snapping his hips into you a little harder. 

“Josh,” you answer, more of a moan. 

“I need this,” he says, moving his hand to cradle your jaw. “I need you.”

“I know, baby,” you cry out, “I know. I need you, too. I fucking need you.”

He groans as he drops his head, letting his lips connect with your neck. His hot tongue slides against your skin before he sucks the skin into a fresh pink bite. His pace quickens, his skin slick with sweat as he pounds into you. 

“Tell me that you think someone could fuck you better than this,” he growls. 

“Fuck, no. No one. No one but you, Josh. I only want you,” you answer, gripping your fingers into his ass. 

His demeanor changes, he’s grown animalistic, grunts and groans falling from his lips as he nears the peak of his release. 

“Tell me that you don’t love me anymore,” he demands.

“Josh, I–”

“Say it,” he barks. 

“I do! I do love you! You know I still fucking love you!” you cry, feeling the coil tighten in your groin. 

A cry falls from his chest, echoing around the room as his lips crash to yours. It's rough and desperate, and you know you just told him everything he’s been waiting to hear. 

“I fucking love you, Y/N,” he pants, “Don’t you ever fucking leave me again.”

You nod your head desperately, needing to feel his lips on yours again. His strokes start to quicken, hitting you long and deep as you both teeter on the edge of your orgasm. The wet sounds dancing through the air are deafening, and the heat of his breath on your face has you dizzy. 

“Josh, baby,” you whine, knowing you won't last much longer. 

“Yeah? Yeah you gonna come again? Bloom like a pretty flower just for me?” he urges, knowing the sound of his voice will push you over the edge. He nods his head, and bites his bottom lip as he watches you, squirming and panting beneath him as his cock hits you right where it belongs. 

“Come on sweetness, be my pretty flower, come for me,” he whispers against your lips. 

His hand cups at your breast as his fingers brush your piercing, letting his thumb and forefinger pinch at your nipple. The sensation is enough to bring you to the brink, letting you dive headfirst into your release. You cry out beneath him, his name falling from your lips in succession. 

“Just like that, my love. I’m here, I’ve got you,” he says, pulling you closer to him as his hips continue to work you through it. “I’m there sweetheart, tell me where.”

“You know where, I’m yours,” you plead. 

He snaps his hips into you again, holding you in place as he spills inside of you, the most beautiful noises falling from his lips. He comes down, loosening his grip on your hips as he falls slack on top of you. Your arms wrap around him, your hand drifting up into his sweaty curls as he catches his breath. 

“I mean it,” he breathes, “I do love you.” He props his head up on your chest, letting his eyes meet yours. 

“You know I love you, Josh.”

He cranes his neck forward and kisses you again, and you can almost feel the smile on his lips. “Does this mean you’ll come home? Let me love you again?”

“Is that you asking me?” you tease. 

“I’ll call the movers right now,” he taunts. 

“You forgive me for leaving you in the first place?” you ask, a hint of nervousness in your voice. 

“I deserved it. I know what I lost.”

“I keep my apartment,” you counter. 

“But you’ll be with me when I’m here?” he asks with questioning eyes. 

“If that’s what you want,” you answer. 

“No more dates with assholes who don’t deserve you?” he smirks. 

“No more dates, just you,” you nod. 

“I’ll do it right this time, give you everything. I promise.”

His lips press to yours, soft and sweet and barely there, sealing his promise and setting your heart aflame. He rolls off of you, laying next to you as close as he can get.

“You said I’m your flower,” you pause, “What kind?”

He pulls you into his side, hitching your leg up over his waist. “Hmm, a poppy perhaps? A bright red one, maybe orange.”

You giggle at the fact he has picked such an outlandish flower. “Why’s that?”

He turns his head to look at you and raises his eyebrow playfully, “The seeds are an opiate and can provide intense pleasure to the consumer, and you, my sweets, are certainly a drug to me.”

You roll your eyes and shove at his chest, feeling him pull you in tighter. He kisses your head and lets out a sigh. 

“What about me, am I a flower, darling?”

“Of course you are,” you pause, looking at him. “Too easy, you’re Goldenrod.”

“Isn’t that a weed?” he laughs, running his fingertips against your bare thigh. 

“Technically, but it’s beautiful. It’s wild and free and vibrant. Thrives in the warm sunshine and sways in the breeze. They’re made of gold, just like you,” you smile, flashing him a wink. 

“Although, it is poisonous,” you add. 

He rolls to face you completely, cupping your face in his hand as he smiles, “You know what they say…”

“What’s that,” you question. 

“The worst poison always tastes the sweetest.”

.

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.

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[alt0writings]

Only for you~

Lucifer x reader

fandom: supernatural

Note: in my stories "luce" is pronounced like "loose" just so you know :)

When I mentioned looking at his wings he tensed up his mind was running over all the situations. The only conclusion he could think of is I would leave him.

So he denied it, "don't you think we're kind of busy right now?" He says kind of harshly. I frowned "no your right we are busy" I laughed awkwardly.

Since lucifer wasn't showing his wings maybe I could ask michael for a description.

Michael wasn't keen on the idea of telling me, "come on michael tell me!" I begged. He still said no.

I sat down in a chair right next to sam and dean "hey boys, how's it going?"

They both looked stressed "not good we can't find this crucial piece of information." Sam groans and lays his head on his arms which were folded in front of him on the table.

I frown "can I help some how?" I looked over towards dean but he was shaking his head "nothing you can do kid" I sigh and nod.

Sam and dean had left to go hunt a werewolf that has been eating elderly people. I sat in a chair off to the side in the library so as not to disturb micheal and lucifer, it's the first time they had gotten along without wanting to rip each other's throats out.

I was reading my book, as I was nearing the end of a chapter I could hear whispers. I turned the page to act like I was reading when I was actually listening.

"Just show them!" Michael harshly whispered. I heard a growl and a forced bitter laugh "you know I can't do that." Everything was silent after that.

After a while dean and sam came back, "how did the hunt go?" They smiled and hugged me. "It went really well besides the fact we almost died" dean snorts. I shake my head and nod "I'm glad you both are back in one piece" they release me and back up, my face scrunches up "you smell like a wet dog. Go take a shower."

Once they agreed and started walking towards their rooms I took my leave and started walking towards my room.

I opened my door and almost jumped out of my skin, lucifer was sitting on my bed, and was sweating profusely He looked up and rolled his shoulders.

"I need your help" he stood up and pulled me into my room before shutting the door and putting an angel banishing sigil on it. "What are you doing?" I question, he sighs and gently places his hands on my shoulders. "You want to see my wings right?" He says while looking away he seemed.

Fearful.

I nod cautiously, he sighs and pulls his hands away before walking around me towards my bed. He pulls his shirt off, he had a surprisingly toned body he wasn't a bodybuilder and wasn't exactly fat. What was the word I am looking for? Oh right.

Dad Bod. He has a dad bod, he turns and walks towards me. From where he stood in front of me I could feel his breath fan against my face, a slight minty smell.

"Don't freak out." He quietly mumbled as he covered my eyes. A bright light flashed from behind his fingers, he pulled his hand away.

I gasp as I take in the beauty of his wings. There were 3 sets of 6, the biggest were the brightest.

pink mixing with blue while fading into black due to burn damage they looked to be torn. The set below that was a mix of pink and white with small black spots, it kind of looked like a sunrise it was also burnt but it also looked torn as well. His last set was the smallest yet was still bigger than your thigh. It looked to be the worst, half of it was gone but you could tell it was gold underneath all the dirt and grime.

"They need grooming, c-can you do that?" His request went on deaf ears, I was hypnotized by their beauty.

I blink repeatedly "what?" I shake my head slightly before looking up at his face. His cheeks had a pink hue to them, he groaned and released my shoulders "listen I need help cleaning them I don't wanna have to ask michael." He crosses his arms over his chest as if a defense.

I nod "of course I would be honored too luce. I can't believe you let me see your wings." I mumbled the last sentence, not trying to be rude or suggest I wouldn't be honored to do this again.

"Only for you~" he purred out as I ran my hands through his biggest set of wings.

Note: hope you enjoyed this I liked writing it lol

[seenoversundown]

For Death Or Glory : Chapter One

Jake x Charlotte (Fem OC)

Warnings: Anxious theme, Bickering, Brotherly Taunting, Uncomfortable situations, Yearning (oh the yearning) Smoking, Alcohol (it's a bar- feels self explanatory but just for safety) Shitty dad jokes, and silly goofy boy time!

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Jake has spent most of his 20's single or just random dates here and there. Unfortunately for him, his brothers and their partners are all on board for trying to find him the love of his life.

Author's Note: hehe hi :) I couldn't resist any longer. I hope you love Jake as much as I do.

Beggars Song - Matt Maeson "Oh yeah, I'm a beat down, washed up, son of a bitch, I got one more cigarette and all my money is spent, but I'ma Be damned if I let it keep me down."

The soft ‘click’ of the door latching behind me as I sneak out of Willa and Quinn’s apartment. It stopped snowing a few hours ago, so the plows have had time to take care of the roads. Hopefully, they could get out of there quickly enough to make it home. I can’t be shocked that we all got roped into a slumber party, especially with Josh involved. I honestly didn’t even mind it; sometimes, spending time with everyone is nice, not in the bar. My heart was whole, watching everyone laugh and smile together. 

Their apartment complex wasn’t too far from the bar, but I don’t trust the roads enough to drive the speed limit.

‘Oh, what a night, 

Late December back in ‘63..’ 

“Oooh, this one hits,” I say as the song fills the car. Turning the volume, I tap along on my steering wheel. Taking my time, I can appreciate how the snow softly coats the trees, which kind of makes up for the lack of leaves. The sun feels extra bright today, bouncing off all the snow piles and practically making the ground light up. 

‘What a lady, what a night.’ 

“Oh, I, I got a funny feeling when she walked in the room,” I quietly sing along. I’ve always been a little partial to the “oldies” as they say on the radio, but I grew up listening to all of it. Maybe I’m just a sucker for nostalgia. 

Pulling into my usual spot, ‘Oh, what a night,’ I sit for a second, contemplating whether I should run upstairs real quick or go into the bar. I probably should at least change. I’ve been in these clothes for almost twenty-four hours. 

As fast as I can, without busting my ass on the ice, I walk to the stairwell. It’s unfortunately not the most insulated, so I hustle upstairs; the first chilly days always catch you off guard.  The warmth hits me when I get into the apartment, my body letting out one last shiver, shaking the chill from outside off. 

After finding a clean button-up and switching into new pants, I feel like a new human. I take a few minutes to brush my teeth, spray myself with some cologne, and then make a cup of coffee. The warm drink on a cold day routine never misses. I scroll through my emails while waiting for my coffee to finish brewing before heading to the bar. 

The brisk air has me running down the stairs, fumbling with my keys to unlock the back door to the bar. I quickly turn the keys, hearing the heavy ‘clunk’ of the deadbolt flipping over. I scoot myself inside, pulling the door shut behind me while letting out another shiver. 

My body freezes when I hear sounds coming from the actual bar. Jesus Christ, NO. My heart rate spikes as I creep down the hallway, not wanting to give myself away. As if whoever or whatever is in here didn’t hear the door, you dumbass.  I still can’t see out into the bar, but the faint sounds are becoming much less muffled as I get closer.

“Fuck, what do we do?” 

“Just get dressed, baby. Go, go, go.” 

Is that Danny? I take a few more steps before finally seeing his tall figure standing shirtless near one of the end booths. He’s clearly buttoning his pants when I see a pair of smaller arms reach out behind him. Oh my god, Melody.  I watch as he fumbles around, trying to flip his shirt from inside out, when he turns around and locks eyes with me. I can see any ounce of life drain from his face from a mile away. 

We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. Still, it is realistically ten seconds before I spit out the only question I can manage to think of, “What the fuck is going on?” 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Jake, really, I’m so sorry,” Dan is about to plead his case now. 

Looking at him, I take a deep breath, knowing he genuinely feels terrible about this. “It’s fine,” I say, touching his arm. 

“I will just take the day to really clean the bar, I suppose,” letting the smile sneak onto my face to ease the tension. 

He lets a small laugh, “I’ll help since it’s my bad anyway.” 

“Oh god,” I let slip. That was supposed to be an inside thought, but here we are. 

“What?” 

I silently point to the camera behind the bar. I won’t lie: Watching the emotions cycle through his face wasn’t a little funny. Melody looked wide-eyed as the realization hit her as well. 

“Oh shit, oh my god,”  

“You quite literally helped me install them,” I let out an uncomfortable laugh, “I don’t know how you forgot.” 

He runs both hands over his face before finally asking, “Can we just.. delete that.. ALL of that..please?” His voice is coated in desperation as he keeps looking over at Melody.  

“I’m certainly not going to watch it, Danny.” Relief washes over him as if he really thought I would watch that.  

“Let’s agree to never bring this up.. again.. Ever?” I cock an eyebrow at him, taking a quick glance at Melody as well. She nods aggressively.  

“What are we never bringing up?” Sam’s sing-songy tone radiates through the bar. God damn it. 

Josh’s loud voice followed suit, “Oh, I love a good secret!” Of course, he came with Sam. 

“That is between you guys and Danny,” I put my hands up, “I have cleaning I need to get done.” I look over to Dan, trying not to laugh. The look on his face is screaming that he knows he’s screwed now that Josh is here. Everybody is about to know his little secret. 

“If you need to go for a little bit, do what you need to,” I lean in and whisper to Melody as I pass her. She gives me a thumbs-up and mouths, ‘Thank you,’ as I head down the hall. 

“Goodmorning, brother,” Josh’s voice comes from behind me as I grab some cleaning supplies from our storage closet. 

“I’m surprised you guys got here this early?” 

When I left the apartment, I didn’t think anybody would be moving for quite a while. The few of us in the living room, all sleeping on the makeshift bed we crafted with extra blankets and pillows. Sam dipped at some point in the night to Willa’s bed, what a party pooper. 

“I couldn’t fall back to sleep after you left, and I heard Sam moving around,” he tells me, “We figured you could use some help getting the bar situated after last night anyway.” Reaching out to take the broom and dustpan from me. 

Surprised that they wanted to help, I quickly said, “Oh, well, thanks bub.” Not that they didn’t usually help out if I asked, but it was a bit more dependent on me asking, which I’m candidly not great at doing. 

“So, what exactly needs to be cleaned?” Sam finally caves. 

I smile at him, knowing what he’s trying to do, “Let’s just say we’re taking the opportunity to really make sure everything is clean.” Grabbing a rag and some disinfectant to start wiping everything down. 

“Well,” he instigates further, “I just didn’t know if there was like a specific booth or something.” He unsuccessfully chokes back a laugh.

Josh quickly cut him off, “I’m sure he asked for specifics,” 

I bite my tongue so as not to laugh at the argument that will start. If there’s anything I know, it’s that these two can’t help but start shit with each other. 

“It was just a question, Josh.”

“You’re just picking at him for no reason. He said we’re cleaning everything, so just clean.”

“You know why we’re cleaning. That’s why you’re being defensive,” Sam says, his voice rising as he realizes. 

Josh gasps dramatically, “You DO listen to your girlfriend. Oh my god, I’m so proud of you!” 

“Oh, fuck off,” 

Josh laughed loud: “It doesn’t take much to figure out what happened, Samuel. Just use that little brain of yours for a minute, and maybe you’ll piece it together.” 

I sit in a booth to wipe the table down, just listening to them go back and forth. Josh isn’t wrong.. If he really did just stop to think about it, he would figure it out. Or, literally, just ask Danny. I never said he couldn’t ask him.

“I’m not that stupid, I know that-” Sam starts but immediately stops when he sees Danny walk back in. 

“What are we yelling about?”

“The two of them are bickering about why we’re cleaning,” I say plainly, with my eyebrows raised and a tight-lipped smile. 

His eyes widen, clearing his throat before saying, “Yeah, uh, people were a bit frantic last night trying to get out of here when the storm started, and we also didn’t want to get stuck too long, so we just.. didn’t have time to clean.” He couldn’t be worse at lying, but I think Sam will let it slide because of how uncomfortable he looks right now. 

“Now, why couldn’t you just say that?” Sam turns, looking back over at Josh. Jesus Christ, here we go. 

“Because that’s obviously not the reason, they clearly–” 

“Good morning, Krusty Krew!” Quinn sings through the bar, thank god. 

“Did we interrupt something?” Willa asks through a laugh. 

“Yes, thank you,” I speak before the other two can. 

It’s fun to watch as they both make their way over to their respective partners. Josh and Quinn always seem like they haven’t seen each other in years, even if it’s only been 20 minutes. The way they just curl into each other at any given moment. And then there’s Sam and Willa. Her laugh radiates through a room whenever Sam is around; they constantly pick on each other about something. He presses a kiss to the side of her head before she starts to walk away, but not before he swats at her ass, and she flips him off. She’s a saint for putting up with him. 

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I listened to everyone’s chatter until Josh and Sam started bickering again. I motion to Danny to say that I’m going outside for a minute before grabbing a cigarette from my office. Walking out the back door in the crisp air, I pull out my lighter and try to beat the wind. That first inhale is always the most rewarding. I told myself when I left the shipyard that I would cut back; the guys I worked with were heavy smokers, and it’s easy to fall into that trap. Now, I settle for one a day, and honestly, some days, I don’t bother; I find that when I’m stressed, I tend to go for it, but I’ve stuck to my guns and not gone back to smoking aggressively. 

I walk across the street, finding my usual spot to watch the boats slowly sail out to the ocean. I like to come here when I need a moment. I’m unsure why I’m feeling more anxious today than usual, but my chest feels heavy. Why do I feel so alone?

It’s not that I can’t be alone. I obviously have made it this long without someone; I have just spent the last two years watching everyone close to me find love. I never really feel lonely because they are all part of the family at this point, but I do have days where I can’t help but be almost..jealous. My mind keeps wandering as I take another drag. Is there something I’m doing that just makes me not worthy of dating? I’ve never understood why, out of all the dates I’ve been on in the last handful of years, none of them have worked out. God, I sound so pathetic.   

I enjoy the last moments of my smoke break, forcing myself to focus on the boat coming into the dock. I can’t seem bothered when I go inside, or they’ll notice. 

Finally, making my way back inside, I see Josh and Quinn in one booth and Sam with Willa in another. They don’t seem to notice that I’ve snuck back in, so I just spend some time cleaning up and organizing behind the bar while there’s nobody to actually tend to. 

I start mindlessly wiping down the wine glasses, trying to make them as clean as possible. Josh and Quinn are in my line of sight; it’s hard not to notice how in love they are. Always sitting on the same side of any table, whether it’s a booth or a typical table setting, they’re attached at the hip. They’re always touching. Whether it’s just sitting close enough, one of them can move their leg closer, or right now, where Quinn is just tracing their finger along his jawline and down the bridge of his nose. They lean in, pressing a kiss to his nose before he tugs them in quickly for a real kiss. This is dreadful. I really can’t remember the last time I kissed someone. Am I that touch starved that I’m jealous of my brother? The squeak from the glass reminds me where I am. I shake my head, putting it back in its place and grabbing a new glass. 

I glance over to the other booth; Willa has her head propped up in her hand as she looks at my brother. Even though they instigate each other most often, it’s always with love. She has a soft smile plastered on her face as she nods to whatever he’s saying. Running his hand down her forearm every so often, it’s weird seeing Sam so.. domestic? Willa really is perfect for him, though. I knew the moment she put him in his place while on a date with SOMEONE ELSE. How she looks at him like he’s the greatest thing ever created is incredibly sweet. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I can see the way her eyes light up before she calls him ‘babe.’  I put the last glass back in place, tossing the towel under the bar. 

I think I have scrubbed every inch of this bar today, I think to myself, leaning into my hand. The music is lower since there’s nobody here, and everybody is currently preoccupied. I let my mind wander for a minute. 

The feeling of being so excited to see someone that your heart flutters. Being able to just hold someone close. God, getting to kiss them endlessly— nothing is better than that. Feeling them smile at you, ugh. Being so wrapped up in each other, pulling her into your lap so you can just have her as close as possible. Someone to call sweet things and have them call me ‘babe.’ Fuck me. I need a wife. Can I just skip to the being in love part? I don’t want to waste my time on girls who will just leave after a couple of months. I just want to fall helplessly in love and spend every day making sure they feel the same. 

“Jake?” Sam loudly says, waving his hand in front of me. 

My body jumps involuntarily, “For fucks sake.” 

“Good daydream, huh?” Josh teases. I fight the warm feeling creeping into my face, rolling my eyes subtly. 

“What do you guys want?” 

“Will you make us drinks, please?” Josh asks, trying to recover from his taunting. 

“Quinn and Willa too?” I double-check as I’m grabbing glasses. They both nod in sync. 

I kept letting out little sighs, which, to be fair, I didn’t think were that obvious. Turning and setting one of the drinks in front of them, my eyebrows pulled together. 

“Why do you look so angry?” Sam asks. 

“I’m not?” I quip back. Unfortunately, it didn’t come out as convincing as I would have liked. 

“I really think you just need to get laid or something, Jake,” Josh laughs out, “you need someone to take the edge off!” he laughs, nudging Sam with his elbow. You’re telling me. 

“When do I have the time, Josh? Come on,” I can’t help the attitude that comes out, but given the day I’ve had so far— getting harassed for not getting laid is not helping. 

“Honestly, you just seem tense lately,” Sam pipes up, “maybe if you actually flirted with one of the pretty girls who comes in, you could get off once in a while.” Josh barks out a laugh towards Sam, but I see Dan pointing in our direction as I listen to my personal peanut gallery giggle. 

Rolling my eyes at them as they keep egging each other on, “Trust me, I’d love for my wife to walk through those doors, but I don’t see that happening.” 

I turn to finish making drinks for the boys, trying to ignore them, squawking about my lack of sex life. As I set out a few glasses on the counter, I heard a lower, raspy female voice ring behind me, “Could I speak with Mr. Kiszka?” 

I turn around to a petite redhead dressed very professionally. Her button-up was a pale yellow, tucked into some grayish-blue slacks. Her hair curled perfectly, and her dark red lips stood out against her pale complexion.  

“Which one?” we all answer in unison. 

She flips open her folder, looking at whatever papers are in there, and I can’t seem to look away from her. She’s … so hot?  

“Um, Jacob Kiszka, I’m sorry.”

She looks up at me, making direct eye contact. Green. Her eyes are green.  

I manage to muster up the ability to ask, “What do you need from me, dear?” Dear? Am I ninety?  The sounds of my brother’s giggling prevented any level of silence between us. 

“Well, I’m sorry to do this to you randomly, Mr. Kiszka,” she says confidently; her voice is so pretty.“Mr. Kiszka is our father. Please call me Jake,”  I say, trying to lighten the mood as I extend my arm out to shake her hand across the bar. It feels like a small jolt to my heart as her hand firmly grabs mine, and she tells me, “Charlotte Rhodes.”

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Chapter Two

FDOG Masterpost | Masterlist | Prologue | FDOG Playlist

If you ask nicely, I may be so inclined to drop Chapter 2 sooner than next Thursday .. is all i'm going to say. 🤭

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[peacefulfuckinarmy]

Hi!! I've had this account for quite a while now and I haven't been active on a hot minute, but to my small amount of followers...I'm back!! Back to writing smutty greta fics for you guys. Also, I got to see a greta concert last night, Mirador and Geese opened for them at the AMP it was absolutely ethereal. If you want pictures just ask!!! I can't send them or post them along with the videos I took!!

[gothicknightz]

experiment on me — jerome valeska

experiment on me — jerome valeska

warnings: a punch thrown so far

notes: two parts? maybe three. the reader is gn. 

word count: 559

Jerome Valeska was finally silenced to a halt after being put in handcuffs and mailed off to Arkham without a hitch. He got into fisticuffs and ran his show, as well as getting his face punched off, and saying he had quite the day was an understatement.

But to him, the walls of Arkham were getting way too familiar than he precedented, despite running the show in a place he once called home temporarily. All the other locked-up systematic outlaws and failures were getting way too stale for him to handle.

Jerome was on his hands and knees begging for some stimulation and uprising. He couldn’t stand it anymore. When Jerome gets his hands on his friends, and he would, he was gonna blow the building like no other person had dared.

Then came in (y/n), someone who didn’t need saving even at the hands of a disappointing city with too many flaws. A city that Jerome and (y/n) were proud to call their home.

Oh, the thrill of someone new. Jerome was excited. Someone with flair, style, and panache. Finally, he was getting lucky in his unfortunate incarceration at Arkham.

But (y/n) didn’t plan on staying there long.

“Hey,” They snapped, “Ginger raccoon.” (y/n) was getting tired of countless attempts at getting Jerome’s attention, so in turn, they backed up and threw a punch. Hopefully, that would wake the smiling psycho up from whatever fantasy land he was in at the moment.

You could tell he was awakening something inside him as his facial expression was recognizing that he had gotten punched. “Oh,” He grumbled, backing up, and touching his cheek gingerly as if it were severely injured. “Thanks for the wake-up call.”

“About damn time.” (y/n) muttered as they now finally had a grasp on the ginger’s attention.

“Now, look,” They whispered, leaning in, “I can tell you’re not new here, and definitely have thrown your hat in the ring way too many times.” They then glanced at one of the many guards that loomed around the halls to keep the inmates in order, “You see that unaffected sad sack over there?”

Jerome seemed intrigued, arching a brow and leaning forward, “I need you to get his attention.”

“Why not get all of them?” Jerome asked, throwing out his arms in question, “Wouldn’t that be easier?” He pushed himself away from the table, going forward to stand on it and cupping his hands around his face to holler.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention!”

And as if they were zombies, anyone who wasn’t at least partially brain-dead turned their focus flat straight at Jerome, incoherent mumbles and questions being heard throughout the crowd.

“Today will be the day!”

The mumbles and those who were talking to themselves suddenly started to cheer as if they were some high school mob at a pep rally or sporting event, some of them even standing up to copy Jerome, who they adored with an unknowing passion.

“Today will be the day!”

The crowd cheered once again, but this time with a further sense of determination and insanity, with half of them unsure of what the day was or what exactly they were cheering for; most of them were too unhinged to comprehend their own sense of being.

Then that’s when the lights went out.

And everything turned to chaos.

[sparrowofthedawnsworld]

TEASER

Sore Loser PT2 - Jake Kiszka

It’s coming soon…

*This isn’t much, but it’s a little peak* <3

Read part 1 Here

••

“Did you find Y/N?” Josh questioned, looking a little more sober than he did earlier.

“No.” was all Jake said, not even bothering to stop.

As he made his way closer to his room, the soft sounds of your singing and what he could only guess as his guitar started to grace his ears. He walked a little faster, wondering if his ears were just deceiving him somehow.

Jake reached the door, being overtaken by a sweet, warm feeling and anger all at once. As sweet as it was to know you were just sitting in his room, playing his guitar and singing, that was also exactly what pissed him off more.

That’s where you had been all that time that he was looking for you, thinking you had gone home.

“Well, isn’t this just a fucking site?” Jake shoved the door open and you jumped, freezing in your spot right after.

It only took you a second to recover from being so startled, a wicked smile spreading over your face. “Glad to finally see you figured out where I was, Jakey.”

“”Figure out”?!” Jake all but yelled. “I didn’t figure out shit! After I wondered around looking for you like a lost puppy for an hour, I just FIGURED you went home!”

“Awe, a lost puppy?” You cooed teasingly, watching his face turn unbelievably red as he made his way over to you.

“I want you to shut your fucking mouth.” Jake pointed his finger down at you. “Get up.”

You stood up slowly, earning yourself an impatient look from Jake.

“You make it so hard not to punish you when you act like a little brat. What if all I want to do is be sweet to you, kitten…?” Jake pulled you over to the bed and turned your around to face it, then stepping behind you. “-But you leave me with no choice.”

Jake’s arms wrapped around you from behind, his fingers immediately finding the button of your jeans. He undid them, pushing them down your legs along with your panties, just enough to reveal your ass.

“Jake…” You knew exactly what he was about to ask you to do.

“Bend over. Let’s make this ass even more pretty and red…” Jake nudged you forward and you leaned down against his bed, holding yourself up with your forearms. “…Then you can tell me if you want to try and play me again.”

A soft groan tumbled out of him. “Fuck, it’s still so red from earlier… Is it still sore, too, kitten? Hm?”

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 9 (Part 2 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Covet Masterlist

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

-Horace

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

It had blossomed seemingly out of nowhere. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does he. . .?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

Thank God.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dammit. What the fuck? I’m. . .?

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

You were carrying a human child. 

And you were at your first appointment for it.

Goddamn.

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

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

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

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

Gia would be so proud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything settled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are you still having sex with Jake?

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

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

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

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

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

Also, officially, the mother of his child.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t mean to squawk with a laugh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fucking asked me, bitch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seriously, y/n?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were so close to seeing the truth.

Facing this head on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing. 

Emptiness. Empty stomach.

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

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

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

Thump thump.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thump thump.

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow,” you repeated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except . . .

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

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

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

Everything was going to be alright.

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

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

“Back to what I was sayin’ before,” Dr. Rose went on. Your eyes found her, clicking off the machine. “In that paperwork you’ll find all of the technicalities and logistics about the pregnancy. Which vitamins you should take. Prenatals our clinic suggests. Recommended foods to eat. The baby’s size week by week. When I say everything, sweetie, I mean ev-er-ything,” she emphasized in her twang. “You can find the same information on our clinic’s website. There is a help tab on there for our mothers-to-be, but I always provide physical copies for my girls. I also recommend downloading at least one pregnancy tracker app to get notified with updates – it’s just convenient and fun.”

“I downloaded one recently, actually. It’s been amazing. Thank you for everything,” you weakly offered. You also had to know. . . “Will you be the one delivering the baby?”

“Sure thing,” she affirmed. “With ya till ya want rid of me. Speaking of that day, our partnering hospital is Cedars-Sinai, so that is where you’ll end up having the baby,” she paused, bringing her eyes to you. “Since you indicated on the form that you would prefer a planned hospital birth over a planned home birth.”

“Correct. Hospital birth for me,” you affirmed.

“Now, we are going to schedule your next appointment for four weeks from now,” she continued, opening her tablet and typing out the information for her calendar, presumably. “How does December 8th sound, honey bun?”

You didn’t check your calendar, because you would make that day okay. Anything you needed to do to make it happen. “Sounds perfect,” you replied, practically jittering with excitement for the next one. “When will I find out the gender?”

“I always have my girls wait until week 18,” she responded, turning buttons off on the machine before scooting it back where it had started. “So, when you come in for your next appointment, we will actually have ya schedule an extra lil appointment in there to see what our little buddy is in there.”

“Got it,” you told her. 

“Your sonogram pictures will be waitin’ at the front desk for ya,” she said, washing her hands. Then, after she dried them, she grabbed her laptop. “And finally, your due date is–at this point, according to what we know–May 23rd.”

The date was suddenly the most important you’d ever heard. 

It was the day you now felt you’d been waiting for your entire life.

Without ever knowing it. 

This baby was already changing your heart for the better and everyday, it seemed like all the little (alive and moving) bundle of hope did was bring you unadulterated joy. 

The most precious gift that you’d made with someone so precious to you.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Once you’d finished the appointment, Josh had asked if you had any plans. And when you’d said no, he ended up driving you both to a cute little cafe he'd heard about in SoHo. A place that, even from the outside, oozed with a charming aesthetic. 

The two of you sat there, pointing out every single detail of the sonogram pictures, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the tiny feet, tiny hands, and the itty bitty, adorable body that belonged to your baby. . . You had never seen something so beautiful. You were sure of it.

And after that, you’d taken some time to catch up. You’d talked about him and Elsie, Elsie and her travels, and the fact that you’d started going to therapy. (Next to the baby, he was most excited about this.)

All you’d ordered was a Sprite since you weren’t feeling the most hungry as of late. Josh had followed in your lead and only ordered drinks as well. Honey tea and a glass of water. He’d made sure to tell the waitress to grab you a water, too. 

And after a quick trip to the bathroom to relieve your ever-aching bladder, you were back at the table. 

Back at a table where Josh was giving you a look. His eyes were narrowed, a mischievous grin turning his lips up to show a dimple in his cheek.

Just as you’d sat down, the waitress was bringing Josh a new, piping hot tea, since he'd (apparently) already finished the first. 

And then, as soon as she was gone, he was talking.

“I sort of had a weird inkling of something going on. . .,” Josh noted as he stirred, then took a long swig of his tea, steam still emitting from the top. “Goddammit!” He gasped, a pained expression painting his features, as he coughed over the warm temperature of the beverage. “Hot hot hot hot,” he repeated to himself, finding his ice water and taking an even longer swig.

You couldn’t help the burst of laughter that bloomed in your chest, flying past your lips as he continued to down the water. All you got in response was him flipping you off with one long digit, and a wrinkle, knitting his brow.

The sinking feeling in your stomach couldn’t be ignored, though. . . you’d heard what he initially said. How had he known? God. . . how long? Your mind was a frenzy as you forced yourself to stop laughing to focus on the serious subject matter at hand.

“How?”

“Well, y/n,” he replied smartly, motioning to the cup. “It just came from the pot, I’m sure. Don’t you see the damned thing is steaming? Why did I even take a–?”

“No,” you stopped his rambling to clarify your question. “How did you . . .? Did you seriously know?” As you were still air-quoting the last few words, he was already nodding his head to answer you. “How? Why? What did we do wrong? I-I mean- God. Do Sam and Danny know, too?”

“Now, I didn’t say I knew,” he corrected you, feeling at the sides of the mug to test the temperature. And, yet again, he was met with the scorching temperature, thus hissing and placing his hands around the plastic of the water cup. “In essence, I said I had an idea. And you didn’t do anything wrong. I just– he’s my fucking twin, y/n,” he set you with a stare that said ‘Remember?! Can’t fool me!’, before he continued. “And where you’re concerned. . . I know you very well. You’ve been my best friend for several years. . ." he reminded you. "Oh, and I’m also a fucking empath. Which you, my dear, were the first one to ever point out my empathic tendencies. . .,” he winked at you with a grin on his full lips. “You should’ve known you couldn’t keep that shit from me. Not without me getting suspicious as hell.”

“Are you mad?”

He stuck his lip out, looking down at the tea, running his finger tip along the rim of the mug before he wrapped his hands around it again. Apparently not at a burning temperature anymore, he decided to bring the cup up to his lips, pinky up as he gripped the handle. This time, he closed his eyes in relief at the taste of the honeyed tea on his tongue. When he placed it back down, he continued watching it, lips still pushed out in a pout as he shook his head, brow wrinkled.

“Nah,” was all he supplied, his eyes hyper focused on the white ceramic mug.

Of course, you were not convinced. “Josh. Look at me.”

When his eyes slowly slid up to find yours, you found at least one reason he hadn’t been looking at you. There were wet pools accumulating in the ducts of his deep brown eyes. He breathed in deeply, his chest expanding with the giant breath before he blew it out, a lone tear making its way down his cheek. 

“I–,” he started, shaking his head and messing with the front of his curly mop of hair. He dropped his hand to tap against the table. “It’s not that I’m mad. It’s really hard to make me mad. I’m more mad at Jake. He makes me mad very easily when he wants. Because I know he can do better. . . Like starting this with you and not having the balls to see it through and leaving you with a baby in your belly.” It was as if the steam had been transferred from his cup to his ears, his nostrils were flaring as he shook his head and squinted his eyes shut. 

Damn, he and Jake look very similar when they get angry, you suddenly discovered.

“And now, he’s just been fucking Maya while you’ve had to deal with–.”

The tears came instantly. Your vision was blurry before you were even able to process that the tears were there. 

“Oh my god, y/n. I’m so– fuck. I’m sorry,” Josh tried, his tone willing you to hear him out. 

You blinked furiously, covering your eyes with one hand. But, finding it useless to try to hide the tears, you just let them fall freely as you now took deep breaths, your eyes piercing through the window of the cafe. “Can we please not–?”

“Y-yeah, Goddammit,” he nervously fluffed the front of his hair. “Y/n, please look at me.”

Forcing your eyes away from the clear autumn sky, you found his eyes, earnestly begging for you to listen to him. “He wasn’t– he hasn’t– I don’t–,” he growled under his breath, reaching forward for your hand. Which you only stared at until he spoke next. “Please, just take my hand.”

So, you did as he asked and looked at him with desperately sad eyes. 

He watched you carefully for a few minutes, letting the tears leave as he reassured you and apologized a couple more times. 

He cleared his throat, blinking his eyes a few times before apparently deciding on a new conversation. “When did you guys begin. . .?”

You knew he was asking when you’d started fucking his brother. But he obviously wasn’t going to say it. 

Nice turn in conversation, Josh.

“It’s complicated,” you offered wetly, not in the mood to talk.

He hummed, before raising a brow with searching eyes. He was trying to get through to you. “Was it that night at Baby’s All Right?”

How the fuck did he know that–?

But, like you said, it was more complicated–because, no, it really didn’t start at Baby’s. 

“Technically," you sniffled, swiping a finger, then a thumb under both of your eyes. "It started before and after that night. It was a long, drawn out thing that shouldn’t have ever started.”

Instantly, you felt guilty. 

The words felt wrong to say. . .the first thing coming to your mind – the baby. 

If it hadn’t started, you wouldn’t have the baby. The sweet little bean in your belly with a beautiful, beating heart. You placed a steady hand against your tummy to make up for the harsh words. 

And the second thing. . . you couldn’t begin to imagine never getting to be that close to Jake. . . you were grateful it had started. . . But you also hated yourself for ever letting yourself get so tied up in Jake Kiszka.

Figuratively and literally. God. Stupid.

“Yes, it should have,” he affirmed, your eyes flickering to him. “For my niece or nephew alone.”

“You’re right,” you agreed, eyes filling with more tears at the conversation and the spiraling thoughts in your mind. “But, I guess, if we are getting technical. . .," you sniffed. "It started that night he left the venue so pissed and you were equally as pissed with him.”

He seemed to think on that for a second or two, trying to go back to the night to which you were referring. Once he finally found it, his eyes lit up with a twitch on his lips. 

“He was mad that night,” he remembered, his hand squeezing yours. You decided to pull yours away from his as you felt it beginning to perspire. Wiped them on your pants, waiting for him to continue. “And now I know why. You weren’t there.”

“Essentially, yes,” you confirmed with a tilt of your head. You couldn't help but snicker with the next part. “It started when I got home.”

Josh’s lips stretched to the point that his eyes bulged and his cheeks puffed out. He blew out a breath while his eyes stayed huge. “And that is all I need to know about that night.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his expression and his words, to which he lightened with you, falling into a soft moment of laughter alongside you. 

When the humor died down, he took the initiative to speak. And you let him. You really weren’t feeling like talking. The smells of the cafe, for one, were starting to make your stomach turn. “I could’ve guessed that it started around that time,” he began. You quirked a brow, asking him to explain further. “He . . . he changed around that time.” You didn’t speak, which told him to continue. “You see, when he first got to New York, he was so fucking surly and rude. He wasn’t just like that with you, mama. He was short as hell with me, too. And the other guys got his bad side – especially Sammy. His heart was broken and he didn’t know how to handle his shit. He started coming back into himself around that time, though. . .Middle of summer. He sort of peaked around the middle of summer. And if I am doing the math right. . . that is when it was happening?”

You nodded an affirmation, impressed by the quick math. 

“Yeah, he was Jake again,” he expressed, eyes tearing up again. “He was joyful for the first time in years. I hadn’t seen him act so freely and fun since before he and Amelia started dating. There was always something stopping him when he was with her – she was stopping him. But you. . . you must’ve encouraged him to be himself. You didn’t turn down the challenge. You took a chance on my brother.”

After considering the words, the lightbulb appeared above your head. That conversation the day in the record shop. The same day you’d played over and over again to convince yourself out of being with Jake. You’d focused on the other words so much that you’d forgotten all about the positive things–the possibilities that had been discussed that day.

You remembered it now. You'd been talking about high school. And how Jake had sort of decided to fuck all when Josh hadn't. . . and it had turned into you bringing up your love of a challenge. 

Josh had nodded, lips turned down, his eyes still holding a little glint. “Yup. Get my point now?”

“Yeah, but like I just said, I’m not one to turn down a challenge. Just like you, Josh. And your brother. . .I’ve learned he is nothing if not a challenge.” 

He had nodded, knowing you were right. And he’d known you long enough to know that you did indeed enjoy overcoming any problem life may hand you.

God, what had happened to you? Where had the desire to accomplish challenges gone?

Why had you given up? Had you given him up? Or had you simply been done with that challenge? Had Jake just been ready to fly? Had you done what was best?

But, you sidelined those thoughts and decided there were more important matters at hand. Like Josh telling you more about how he was feeling.

“So. . . you’re not hurt?” You asked, your voice hoarse from not talking. You cleared it, and tried again. “You’re not hurt?”

“A little, I guess,” he nodded, eyes studying you.

“That’s fair,” you encouraged – glad he was sharing his heart. “I’m sorry for not telling you. But I just kept hearing your voice in my head–that same day we talked about challenges– that same day you’d told me something and it repeated itself over and over to the point that I tried to resist things happening with Jake. Mostly for you, Josh. I didn’t want to betray you. Didn't want him to betray his dreams. But then it just became something bigger that I couldn’t control. It was . . . different than anything else I’ve ever experienced. I couldn’t stop it from happening.”

“Did you want to stop it?”

“I tried to convince myself that I wanted to . . . but I never did. Not really. I wanted him the whole time, but I felt wrong for it. I was totally disregarding what you’d said to me. . . Going against your wishes for him.”

His eyes got big as he took another sip of his tea, that at this point, was probably lukewarm. But if it was, his face didn’t show it. He licked at his lips and peered at you pensively, curiously. “God, y/n. I’m sorry. What did I even say? I don’t remember,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I hate that my words have been just fuckin’ tormenting you, mama. I’m so sorry.”

“No,” you said, pointing your finger at him, your eyes serious to communicate your point. “You don’t be sorry. I’m the one who was in the wrong. Not even Jake, necessarily,” you included the last part, just on Jake’s behalf. “I was the one who did it even after you’d confided in me that you were happy Jake was getting to live life for himself for the first time – without having to worry about being hung up on a girl. And, then I just let myself be that girl you didn’t want for him – I was the girl to get in his way while he should’ve been living for himself.”

“In the spirit of fairness, though, I told him that he needed to take a break from women. He didn’t listen to me either. Well, sort of. . . he actually did follow my advice, I guess,” he encouraged, his eyes searching yours. “Because I also told him that I wanted him to think of what he wanted first.” His tone lifted as he winked at you. 

Your brow wrinkled . . . what was he trying to say? 

He continued, “Which, I guess, my dear, after the dream . . . was you.”

Feeling suddenly lightheaded and loopy with Josh’s words, you let them settle for a minute or two before saying anything more. 

And, the waitress had perfect timing. She filled the open air by asking if you needed anything. First time she’d been back in a hot damn second. Josh asked for a new tea, and you asked for another glass of Sprite. 

All that you could think in that moment was that you really had been the opposite of the right thing for Jake. So, you decided to speak your mind.

“But. . . no,” you declined his words, shaking your head. “No, Josh. He didn’t put himself first – he had a woman – me – that he was focused on instead of learning himself.”

He took a bit to consider your words, his eyes squinted at you as he pursed his lips. The waitress came back to the table as the conversation lulled for his response. 

As soon as she left, though, the two of you were back to it.

“Y/n,” he began, his lips growing into a sure smile. His hands came to clasp in front of him, his hair bouncing with each disbelieving shake of his head. “He did. He moved here. He started pursuing the dream. He got a job he loved by teaching lessons.” Thus meeting Maya, you snarkily thought. “He did put himself first. Did all of that, and then he pursued you.”

. . . you hadn’t really thought of it that way. Not once had you considered that. 

God. What if you’d told Josh a long time ago? Chances were, he would’ve eased your fears and worries. . . but instead, you’d assumed he’d think the worst and let your thoughts derail. 

Would you even be in the predicament you were today? 

You knew the answer. The answer was most likely no. You wouldn’t have the baby because there would’ve never been a night - the night - to relieve your Jake-induced stress. Because you would have already taken the time to talk to Josh. . . He would have reassured you before you even had time to ever get to that depressive point.

Would he have convinced you to be with Jake? 

You didn’t know. . . but. . . it was too late now. 

You were where you were now and there was nothing you could do about it. 

And none of this ever worked in how Maya had already been in the picture – maybe she had been part of the reason he became happier in the middle of summer.

In the end, she could be the one to thank for this– it could most definitely not be you. The sad truth of the matter was, she had probably been filling his cup all along. . .while he was filling yours.

While you were letting yourself get tangled in him, he was feeling the same emotions. . . but for her. Because, in the end, she was easier than you.

You couldn't find it in good conscience to be with him anyway.

Because, well, you still wouldn’t have wanted to distract him from his dream with a relationship. His dream was too valuable to possibly table for you. You were too much of a mess that he could get distracted by, rather than taking the time to fulfill his dream.

She freed up his time with her carefree nature. And you only infiltrated his time with your darkness. She was sunshine, brightening up his paths.

You had to figure you out before you could ever make someone as happy as Maya made Jake. 

Before you had this baby.

However the tables turned, they had already turned. And it was too late to go back and change anything now. You weren’t even sure what you would change–or what you would think if you could turn back time. There was too much filling up your brain–your life– to make the wisest decision. 

It didn’t matter anyway.

So, you told Josh all you could think to say. The same words you’d thrown nastily in Jake’s face, you threw harshly in your own.

“Well, I guess I served my purpose.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

When Josh pulled your car into your space, Jake’s was nowhere to be found. As always, you couldn't help but wonder where he was. He hadn't worked today so he was probably with-.

“I really am most mad at my brother.”

“Try not to be,” you encouraged lamely. You really didn’t care too much about him being angry at anyone right now. . . all you really cared about was getting upstairs to your bed to take a nice, long nap. It had been a day. 

“I’m going to be for a whi–.”

Tap tap tap.

Both of your eyes turned to Josh’s window. Outside of the driver’s side was Jake. You could see all the way down his loose shirt. It was open and tempting his tanned skin and firm chest, while his necklaces hung loosely in front of him, as he was bent over to peek into the car.

But. . . you could see the heated glare from his eyes, even through the tint of his Ray-Bans. His nostrils were flared and his lips had curled into a faux smirk. 

When Josh rolled his window down, you heard Jake's breathy chuckles that had no indication of anything truly humorous behind them. They sounded more bitter than anything else. 

“What have you two been up to?” he questioned, the inflection on the word ‘you’ paired with his snide tone told you he was probably less than thrilled to see you and Josh together. Alone, at that. 

But why? Why the fuck would he care?

You were struck completely motionless and silent, feeling nauseous again, desperately trying to swallow down that all too familiar sensation. But this time, it wasn’t due to the hormones wreaking havoc in your tummy, it was Jake’s presence at this incredibly horrid time that had your belly flipping in slow motion somersaults. 

Josh huffed a laugh that nearly replicated Jake’s. Mimicking his twin to further his irritation, no doubt. You knew Josh was in no mood to put up with Jake’s piss-poor attitude, especially given everything he had discovered. You were tightly holding your breath at whatever the hell could possibly come from Josh's mouth, hoping that he would say as little as possible.

“Funny that you should ask, Jacob,” Josh retorted. He turned his head to the left to make eye contact with his twin, his fingers were still gripped to the steering wheel with a force that turned his knuckles stark white.

What was he about to say? Shit. He knew better. . . right?

“Because," Josh began. "I don’t exactly believe it’s any of your business what we're doing. In fact, I know it’s none of your business.”

Ironic. . . because it most definitely was his business. He just didn’t know it. Not yet.

He flashed Jake his classic Josh grin, extra wide with eyes squinted, an extra, added dramatic flair of his fluttering eyelashes to seal his condescending statement. 

You let out the breath you had been holding, thankful that Josh kept from saying too much. This was not how you wanted Jake to find out. Although, you still had no idea when or how you would approach that. 

All you knew for sure, was that this wasn’t the right time. 

Jake had stood firm the entire time, a brow raised with an obviously fake grin that held his lips in a tight line. His first response was a snicker through his nose and a patronizing simper, just shy of a full on scowl. 

“‘Kay, got it,” he sneered. Then, he was patting the side of the driver's door with his opened palm before swiftly turning on his heel to walk away. He forcibly shoved his hands in the front pockets of his black jeans as he sauntered off, and you couldn’t help but notice how it stretched the fabric even tighter against his perfectly, rounded ass. A sight you still fawned over, admittedly. 

How could you not?

But you broke your gaze quickly once Josh turned to face you once again. Even though he finally knew about the special addition that you shared with his brother, you’d still feel awkward (and a little guilty) as fuck if he watched you gawk over him so openly. Especially on a day so sensitive as today.

Josh had let out an exasperated sigh deep from his lungs, his jaw clenched and hard when he finally shut the humming engine off. “I have so much that I want to say to him,” he muttered, mostly to himself as his tone was hushed.

Yeah. Me fucking too, you thought to yourself. Don’t you think I get it?

Without the engine running, the car had become dead silent. The type of silence that allowed you to hear the rapid beating of your own heart clearly in your ears. (You even thought for a moment that you could hear Josh’s, too. That kind of quiet. Like earlier. Right after you'd told him.)

It gave you time to ponder. . . Despite his incredible response to all of this today, you still worried. Because, for the first time in the literal years of having Josh as your safe haven, you feared that things could have changed far too much for him to ever look at you the same again.

But then, your never ending train of overthinking was put to a halt when he placed a loving hand on your knee. When his warm eyes connected with yours, they reassured you that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere. At least not anytime soon.

“You ready to go inside, mama?” 

His sweet smile that you had loved for years lit up his once hard features. Seeing the signature grin lifted some weight off your heavy shoulders.

You nodded your head and unbuckled your seatbelt as he did the same. But as you lifted the latch on the passenger door, another thought began clouding your mind, a question that you felt you needed to ask someone. That you needed to ask Josh.

“Hey. . .,” you started as he already had one foot out the door.

He stalled his movements and promptly turned his head to face you. 

“Yeah?” he answered, the same smile still cocked in the corner of his mouth.

“When should I tell him?”

He situated himself back inside, resting his back against the dark leather. His eyes were cast on yours, soft and kind as you’d always known them to be, yet a seriousness found within them. 

“That’s up to you, mama. You have to decide when the time feels right.” His gentle hand reached to grab your shoulder in a reassuring gesture, effectively pulling you away from your burdening thoughts. 

Once you’d finally made your way out of the car, you heard him clear his throat and looked to see what else he had to say. He was squinting at you through the autumn day’s rays when he finished the line of thought he’d started in the car.

“But. . . knowing my twin, he’d want to know sooner rather than later. Don’t wait too long, love. He’s got a good heart, you know that. Give him the chance to step up like I know he will.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Friday, November 11, 2022

You’d missed the show completely. As you knew you would. 

Josh had known you were going to show up later than usual since your school work was (quite actually) burying you. Specifically, it was thanks to a 20-page paper that was due tonight. 

Thankfully, you’d been able to finish it in time to at least meet the boys at the bar (smoke free, Josh had clarified on the phone) they’d decided to hang out at after the show. You hadn’t hung out with them after a show in forever. Hadn’t even been to a show in. . .well, you didn’t even know how long.

The reason could be mostly chalked up to your intense homework load this semester, but part of you knew you’d also been trying to avoid them due to the addition of Maya. 

It just didn’t feel the same anymore. And you knew you couldn’t force yourself to pretend. So, the extra school work turned out to be a pretty good excuse. At least you weren’t fabricating anything when you’d told them you couldn’t make it. (Although you would prefer if you didn’t have so much fucking homework.)

But you did miss watching Jake perform. You missed the faces he’d make while playing his guitar, the ones that so closely resembled the one’s he’d make with you. The way he’d thrust himself into his beloved instrument, or pull it close to his body with a force that left your head reeling and your body in dire need for him. 

As much as you missed all of that, something you missed even more was witnessing how his passion exuded through his entire body while he played. How his love for his art was so wonderfully evident as he put so much of himself into every song he played. 

And with the way your body kept betraying you – literally pulsing with desire for him anytime he was simply near you . . . to the point of needing to relieve yourself with your hands or a toy. . . You were weak as fuck. You figured it probably wasn’t the best idea to watch him perform like that with your hormones going ballistic.  

Too many factors worked together to make you feel rather uncomfortable about being near him in that capacity. But. . . here you were. Waiting at the bar for them to arrive. 

Putting yourself in a situation where he’d inevitably be near – sitting at the same booth as you, most likely. Admittedly, it wasn’t your most incredible idea. But Josh telling you the other guys had been missing you made you realize how badly you’d missed them. 

So. Here you were. Scrolling on pregnant influencers’ Instagram pages for helpful tips and testimonials (and occasionally Jake’s page, just to torture yourself) as you waited for them.

Just as you’d thought to send Josh a text letting him know you were at the bar and sitting at a booth near the back, you felt the urge to pee like no other. Your belly had sort of popped in the few days that had transpired since your first ultrasound. You were learning that twelve weeks on your body was the. . . rounder version of twelve weeks. . . Which was not working in your favor to hide your changing body. 

Thankfully, the rest of your body looked mostly the same as normal – save for your boobs which were still about as big as they were in your Shining twin costume (not growing too much more yet, but continuing to be sore as hell). They weren’t giant, per se, but they definitely looked noticeably bigger and felt fucking heavy.

So, you were officially having to wear looser-fitting clothing to avoid anyone looking at you differently. To be fair, to most eyes, it probably would've looked like some weight gain around your midsection if you wore normal clothing. But to you, it literally just looked like you were pregnant. 

You were definitely getting used to waking up every morning to a body that looked just a little different than the day before. Noticed every little change—but they didn’t feel little to you. . . Anything that changed felt massive to you.  

. . .Hence why you were being overly cautious with the giant sweaters. . . Because, to you, it looked so obviously different that you didn’t want to risk people thinking anything or asking any questions.

And, thanks to your newly expanding uterus and a spike in your progesterone (according to your Ovia app), you were beginning to actually wiggle in your seat from the urge to pee. It was all rather unkind on your poor bladder. . .  You had to fucking relieve yourself soon or you would be peeing your leggings. It would be embarrassing as hell to pee yourself and smell like it for the entire evening.

Though, you realized, as people started filtering in, that you couldn’t get up to pee. . . It was too much of a risk that you’d lose the one big booth to this hastily growing Friday night crowd.

Just as you’d started contemplating your lack of options, a particular laugh you’d gotten (unfortunately) used to, made its way through the crowded bar. Your eyes zoomed to the dark haired, caramel-skinned beauty who’d taken up residence in Jake’s life. 

Maya. 

Her laugh was just as beautiful as she was. . . Directing every eye in the front of the establishment to her as they joined in on whatever she was laughing about. She was a force to be reckoned with and it was obvious anytime you saw her. You were pretty sure you could see her chocolate eyes actually sparkling, all the way from across the bar.

Then, here you were in a giant ass Pratt hoodie with plain black, ratty leggings and your white Chucks. Feeling bloated and gross. . . And still needing to really fucking pee. So you had to put your insecurities to the side and get up from the spot you’d effectively heated up for the last twenty minutes because your one and only solution had just walked in. 

You didn’t want to walk away and lose your spot, so you did the only thing you could think to do. 

“Maya!” You called in her direction, tucking your phone into your hoodie pocket with one hand while the other waved at her. An incredibly forced smile was plastered to your face. 

Is this the first time I’ve ever spoken to her? You wondered briefly. 

Even though you knew the answer. 

Yes, definitely the first time I’ve ever talked to her. Weird. And funny fucking cause for it, too, you giggled to yourself, just behind your close-mouthed grin.

It was as if she’d already seen you, because she looked at you with a knowing look. She sent you a (stupid) wink and a (stupid, yet admittedly kind) wave, along with a wide smile—bright white teeth complimented by her full lips. 

Standing up had caused your bladder to go into emergency mode—a sensation similar to nearly bursting was the only way you could describe it. And, strangely, you suddenly felt sort of dizzy from the overwhelming pressure. 

That’s odd, you thought absently, brows wrinkling ever so slightly with the feeling. Ignoring it, you kept waving. And, the smile slipped from your face as you urgently motioned her over. Getting the hint, she said goodbye to the few patrons she’d been talking with and made her way to you. 

Long, wavy hair, inky as the night sky, flowed in waves around her shoulders as she sweetly pushed through people on the way to the booth. 

Every man she passed had to do a double take, watching her as she passed by them. . . You didn’t blame them. She was a fucking dream. (And you hated it.)

Body positively snatched and voluptuous in her all-black outfit. Her large breasts, exposed just right in her extremely low-cut black shirt. The shirt dipped all the way to the middle of her rib cage, exposing a lot of her perfect, perky breasts and tight abdomen. The tiny waist just below the dip was intimidating at best and had you feeling extremely self conscious of your nearly non-existent waist (thanks to the tiny friend living inside of you). You were glad you couldn’t see her ass, because you knew the exquisitely round part of her would have you heading for the door rather than the restroom. 

God, why did she have to look like a damn model? It was the worst possible thing for you. You were sure of it.

Once she was finally at the table, you didn’t want to stand there and stare at her. She had you feeling ready to jump out of your unfamiliar, changing body. Made you feel like nothing, just by standing there.

And, most importantly, you were nearing the risk of peeing with a singular movement at this point. You really weren’t sure how you’d make it to the restroom, but you had to try. 

You were already toeing around the table, out of the booth, when you spoke to her, averting your eyes and finding the restroom sign instead. “I’ve gotta pee really fucking bad,” you hastily said, taking the final step from the back of the booth. “Can you save this table for me so we have a place to sit?”

“We?” She questioned. “Y/n, I would definitely normally save it for you and your friends, but I have to work on finding my own place since I’m waiting here for Jake and the—.”

“Jake and the guys, I know.” You snapped, eyes flashing as you finished for her, not focusing on your facial expression. You were almost positive you rolled your eyes at her comment. 

Does she not know? Why? Did no one tell her?

Bouncing on the heels of your feet, back and forth, you quickly continued. Matter at hand. “I’m here to hang with you guys, too, but I’ve gotta—.”

“Pee!” She finished, a giggle that was probably supposed to be cute left her lips. “Go! I’ll save it. Go, go, go!” 

You were already walking away with her last sentence, hearing her from behind your back as you focused on not wetting your pants on the way to the ladies room. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

When you got back out, you were instantly met with the sight of all of the guys at the back booth you’d saved.

Your eyes, sadly, found Jake and Maya first – sitting practically on top of each other in the back corner of the booth. She was wrapped up in Jake, while engaging in a conversation with Sam. And, even though she seemed to only be halfway listening, Sammy kept on talking like she was interested in only him. 

But with the way Jake’s hand toyed with the hair over her shoulder and eventually traveled to squeeze (and hold) her waist. . . you knew why she wasn’t fully listening. Sammy would not be getting her full attention any time soon, and you knew that from personal experience. If it were you Jake was playing with like that, you would have tuned Sam completely out. 

Pushing any emotion down that threatened to boil up to the surface, you kept on walking to the booth. 

And when you got close enough, all of the attention was suddenly on you. The first one to notice you was Danny, who got up from his end seat on the booth to greet you with a giant hug. You sank into him, feeling all of the love that he was emitting sink into your sore body. 

Then, Sam was loudly exclaiming your presence, telling you that he was waiting for his own hug. 

You went around the three brothers who wanted to give you a squeeze. 

Sam hugged you especially hard, making your boobs ache like no other when he pressed hard against you. Gratefully, Josh had been paying attention when you caught his eye with a pained expression and had loudly determined that it was his turn.

After Josh had grasped you from Sam and given a loose hug, you stood awkwardly. Waiting. But for what?

But. . .you knew what. . .knew why.

It was Jake’s turn. 

Though, all you got was a little close-lipped smile and a half-wave with a head nod from his spot next to his supermodel girlfriend. 

You reciprocated with essentially the same response, your stomach falling to your feet as you did so. It was ludicrous to think he’d get up for a hug, too. Especially with Maya sitting next to him with her perfectly-fucking-manicured hand clutching the inside of his thigh. 

God, you needed to feel him close to you, though. You needed your hand on his inner thigh, dangerously close to a place on his body that’d been so accustomed to yours. You couldn’t help the way you yearned for him to be inside of you again. . . It was fucking embarrassing as hell.

And, then there was an incredibly intrusive thought. 

It told you that, for some (strange) reason, the idea of his pecs pressing into your sore breasts. . .sounded extremely appealing. (And the thought of his hands or his warm, wet mouth on them? Fuck.) 

But— you knew at this point, there was a fat chance of that ever happening.

He didn’t want you near him like that. And definitely not his hands or mouth on you. So you were sure he did not want a measly hug either.

And right now? In this bar? At this exact time? Obviously-fucking-not. Why would he move away from perfection? For you? In your frumpy-ass outfit? As you glanced down self-consciously, you even noticed one white sock peeking way higher than the other from your high-tops. 

Small details. Small details that showed how much of a fucking mess you were in comparison to her.

When you heard his laugh cut through the wave of emotion you were feeling, you looked back up at him. Only to see that he was engaged with Maya and Sam in some (apparently) hilarious conversation. 

He didn’t give two shits about you that way anymore. Why would he?

The terrible things you’d said to him in the kitchen were the first reason that came to your mind. Haunted you everyday, reminding you that you didn’t deserve his attention. 

You bet she, in her utter perfection and 'sunshiney' ways, would never tell him the things you had. He was probably relishing in the mental break she provided him. A break from the emotional thunderstorm that was you. 

But what the two lovebirds didn’t know was that you were carrying a part of him within you that she couldn’t do a thing about. No matter what she was to him, she didn’t have what you did. 

Though, the depressing truth of the matter was even if you were carrying his baby, Maya was still the one falling asleep next to him more nights than not. You had a piece of him, yes, but she had all of him. 

Fuck. That felt selfish. Without even thinking about it, you brought your hands up to your stomach as an effort to apologize to the little lemon-sized baby in your tummy. 

You are enough for me, you desperately thought, looking down, hoping to translate the words somehow to your unborn bundle of hope. You give me plenty of joy. 

“Y/n,” Josh spoke, breaking you from your reverie. 

“Mmm?” You hummed.

Then he was leaning over, whispering so quietly in your ear. “You’re about to give particular notice to your stomach.”

Shit. You instantly dropped your hand, looking around to make sure no one had noticed. 

Thankfully, no one had. 

You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to your best friend, and scooted into the space he and Daniel had left for you, between them, on their side. 

Sitting again helped to balance you, as the dizziness from earlier kept coming back in tiny spurts. You didn’t know what it was all about, but you knew it was probably something attributed to pregnancy. It was probably something normal that you didn’t need to be worried about. 

But, you figured having someone to lean on would help to keep you steady. So, you found Josh’s shoulder, pressing against him. It was more than necessary, so you let your shoulder lazily lay against his arm. The closeness to a safe person felt overwhelmingly comforting in the otherwise emotionally-wrought headspace you were experiencing. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

About an hour later, you found yourself humming along to the music that had gotten progressively louder over the time you’d been sitting with the guys. Getting lost in the melodies felt nice. And you’d noticed, walking in that night, that it was soul music night, according to the sign on the front door of the bar.

Your favorite.

After sitting with them for only a few minutes, making small talk with Sam and Danny to catch up, you’d essentially let yourself become an observer. You’d just listened to them talk about all of these new, sudden opportunities that were coming around for them.

So much was changing. 

They were essentially done with the smaller gigs. Their label’s management had put their foot down that they were done with those. They wanted them going to more popular, reputable places to get their name out there. The label had taken it upon themselves to work with their manager to put them in bigger venues. They’d even begun advertising the boys with promotional pictures and posters all over active streets in Brooklyn.

“We’ve had photoshoots, y/n,” Sam had boasted in wonder at one point, making sure to involve you in the conversation. “Photoshoots! Like, real rockstar things.”

“‘S fucking nuts,” Daniel agreed, nodding beside you, sending you a small smile. “People working on wardrobe for us and all that shit.”

“Well, you are rockstars,” you told Sammy genuinely, letting your eyes skate to each of the boys (save for one). But, when you finished your statement, you let your eyes find him. And his eyes literally melted into yours. Like he’d been waiting for you to acknowledge him. “You’ve been ready for this for a long time. I’m just glad you are finally getting to live it.”

But you tore your gaze away before it could become too much. Though, the snicker you heard from Maya made your eyes cut to her. You forced yourself to hold your tongue. Didn’t trust yourself with what might come out of your mouth. What had her feeling all bitter and shit? She didn’t get the fucking half of it.

That particular thought had your hands falling to clasp tightly against your tummy, thankfully hidden by the table. 

They’d also begun working on their first album (which you knew about), but its release date had officially been set in stone for May. It was daunting for you and felt huge to you, so you couldn’t imagine how it felt for them. 

It was all moving so fast. . . Which, if you were being honest, terrified you for what was to come in the near future. The little bean that was set to arrive around the time of the album’s release. Because of all of your recent . . .changes, it just felt like a terrible time for things to feel so unsure and abnormal. 

You knew it was selfish to feel that way. You did. It was just impossible to not feel worried and anxious. 

The stress inevitably started climbing up into your upper back, creating tension. And, Josh, being Josh, must’ve sensed a change in your demeanor. He’d wrapped his arm around your shoulders when you started feeling all bunched up and jittery. You’d leaned into it, needing the incredible amount of comfort in his embrace and presence. 

The music was setting your mind at ease from the tension you felt in your body. It also helped to alleviate the awkward air you felt with the proximity of Jake’s guest. Who sat there looking so beautiful all night. Jake’s arm hadn’t left her shoulders all night, twirling her long waves between his long fingers. You had to look away at several points. It didn’t take long for the sight to become too much. Your ever-present nausea only increased by watching them. 

So you didn’t watch. Didn’t allow yourself to look at him.

You breathed in the music. The music saved you. You just listened to the music. The world was a blur. 

But, when they all joined in on mutual excitement, all smiles and voices getting louder, you tuned back in just slightly.

And when you did, they were talking about one particular thing they were all looking forward to: a special event of sorts that was coming up. 

Apparently it was a huge thing for this event to take place. One final step before embracing the stardom. It would happen in a few months’ time — once the label execs heard a few songs, and released them as singles. Then, they would get to preview them to the public. 

It would be an intimate type of event, more like old times, but for a few semi-important people who worked for the tour management team and whoever else wanted to come. It would be a listening party where the boys would play their new music. And according to the boys, it was the label’s attempt to get an idea of touring being a possibility. 

A lot of it was pinned on if the turnout was good. On how the guys interacted with the crowd. How the performed. . . It would be a sort of audition for the tour management team. 

“I have faith that they’ll love us,” Sammy said, buzzing with excitement. “I’m speaking that shit into existence.” 

The rest of the guys agreed.

Your eyes inadvertently snapped to Jake when he spoke next. “And once we start touring. . .,” he said, grin huge and his eyes shining at the other guys. “That’s when it all becomes fucking real. And it’ll be here before we even know it.”

Your stomach fell.

Josh squeezed your knee after he’d said it, knowing exactly what you were thinking.

Your thoughts were fucking spiraling. Looking down, you closed your eyes to will the tears away— tried your best to be subtle with your bundled up emotions. 

You felt so excited for him. You wanted it for them—for him. All along, you’d wanted him to live his dream. The one he’d had for so long. But the idea of him going off and away. . . All of them being so far away, all of the time, right at the time your life would be inevitably changing for the rest of forever. . . It was a lot to wrap your mind around.

It had your stomach tied in fucking knots—the idea of Jake being a dad, but not getting to be one. Leaving you. Leaving the baby. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, per se, but it was going to hurt like hell. 

You swore, right then and there, that you would not let him give it up for anything. Not a baby, definitely not you (not that he’d want to abandon it for you) — it was the last thing you wanted. The last thing that would happen. 

He would live the dream. Even if you had to force him to do so.

No matter how badly you already knew you’d  want him around during that massively  transformative time. . . You were capable of doing it on your own. And Elsie would help. She would most definitely be around, you already knew. 

But. . . Jake. 

You shoved the thoughts down to the tresses of hell, literally planting your feet flat on the floor to center yourself to present time. Shifting a bit, you laid your head on Josh’s shoulder, letting your eyes drift closed after a while. Didn’t sleep, no, but you felt like you could have. Your body felt loose and weak from the night’s stress slowly leaving your body as you focused on Josh’s steady breathing and the music. 

As the night wore on, the volume had ended up getting so loud that everyone practically had to yell at one another to have a conversation, even within the close confines of the booth. 

So, you had to blink your eyes open at that point. It was too much. The over-stimulation was soon approaching. You could feel it. You felt. . . heavier than normal. Like, you were being pulled down to the earth with exhaustion. Which was new, but probably just over-stimulation.

Even with your eyes open, they were hooded. You were so tired, you felt as though you couldn’t open them much more. And the dizziness from earlier was back with force. 

So you focused on swaying your body a little to the rhythm of each song, tapping out the beat of each on the table. Josh had instinctively begun humming along with you while still managing to keep conversation with everyone else. He’d sneak the occasional smile to give a sign of him remaining loyal to your company as well as the others’.

The melodious harmonies of Stevie Wonder’s "Please Don't Go" had been a surprise, as it was a more unpopular hit of his. It was a welcome distraction to listen to a song you knew well over the speakers, for all ears to hear. Nothing beat hearing songs you loved, playing in public spaces. 

Oh, Stevie. His songs had historically been known to bring you peace. Always had. Always would. Stevie's music never failed to meet you where you were emotionally. This song, not being an exception, and hitting extremely close to home for the present time. . . But still, the tension you’d felt all night began to dissipate, sizzling out almost completely with the beautiful ending of the track.

Just as the heavy weight of your anxieties you’d carried all night had lifted, the next song started to ring throughout the building.

Only this time, the feeling it gave you was a far cry from the previous. 

You knew it instantly. You’d be able to hear this song even if it weren’t blaring throughout the building. 

As soon as the first note sounded, it sent a vibration straight to your heart and a swarm of butterflies (that actually felt more like bees) to your tummy. 

You hadn’t looked at him yet, but you felt Jake’s eyes piercing through you. 

You didn’t want to look at him. Not yet. 

Your hormones had been far too out of whack for that. You knew you’d cry instantly upon seeing his face while this song played at a volume that you now wish was much, much lower.

Aretha’s powerhouse voice repeated it over and over again. 

You’re all I need to get by, you’re all I need to get by, you’re all I need. . .

No, you weren’t looking at Jake. But he was still the only vision clouding your mind’s eye. 

You were back on your living room floor. . . his eyebrows bunched together with each heavy thrust into you, the sweat that accumulated between them, the perspiration and exertion that could only come from real intimacy. . .passion.

And it was plain to see that you were my destiny. . .

His coffee colored eyes that bore into you as his body connected with yours in the most intimate way that it could’ve. 

And when I lose my will, you’ll be there to push me up that hill. . .

How he filled you so completely, stretching you the only way you ever wanted. . . How, in that moment, it felt like he was made to fit you. Your body, your heart, your life.

I don’t know what’s in store, but together we can open any door. . . 

Without even meaning to, your eyes met his. 

And while Maya was going on about whatever she felt the need to talk about, he was watching you. His eyes were extremely thoughtful. . . So much being communicated behind them. 

If you were delusional, you’d even go so far as to say he was admiring you. . . The way his eyes flashed a bit as you watched him, too. 

But you weren’t delusional. 

Though, you just knew that he was thinking the same thing as you. . . He knew. He knew this song was special. 

And as much as you attempted to not wear your emotions, with your condition, it was impossible.

You felt your eyes prick with tears as the song came to an end, and you quickly put your head down for what you knew was coming. And when the small drop hit your cheek, as soon as it appeared, you wiped it away. 

You looked back up, sniffing once and shaking your head.

Why did I have to fucking look?

“God, I wish they’d play music from this century here for once. Or at least something halfway decent,” Maya snickered, her attention on Jake, pulling his gaze away from you with her ignorant remark. “This song could put me straight to sleep. Music like this is meant to be left in the past where it belongs.” 

What the hell? What was even the point? 

What she said had your blood boiling with red hot rage. Of course she had to pick this song to insert her disgusting opinion.

And how was Jake, of all people, in a relationship with someone who thought so little of older music? How did he put up with that shit? It would be really fucking hard to hear things like that all the time if you were in his shoes.

A look of pure disgust washed over Josh’s face, and you knew he wouldn’t take her shit laying down. Not when it came to good, classic soul music. Not to mention, Aretha was one of his biggest vocal inspirations. “How can you not appreciate the Queen of Soul? She paved the way for singers of every genre, her voice is timeless and immaculate. To criticize her is to criticize all music.” 

His defensive tone had everyone silent for an almost uncomfortable amount of time.

You wanted to chime in and let her know that you agreed with everything he said. But you felt it best to keep your mouth shut given the real reason you were so pissed. Didn’t trust your emotions to stay steady enough to get your point across. 

This was personal.

To your shock, it was Jake that ended up breaking the awkward silence at the table. “You know, babe, some of us have some pretty significant memories tied back to music like this,” he asserted, sharply, pulling away from her, dropping his arm from her shoulders to look at her better. “This song specifically. . . At least for me.”

Your heart leapt into your throat at what he was implying. Significant? He couldn’t mean. . .? But then he flashed his eyes to you. And you knew. 

Fuck, Jake. The butterflies let completely loose in your tummy at the implication. At the look. 

He continued, his voice growing softer, while staying assertive. “And it could very possibly be hurtful to others when you say surface level shit like that.”

Maya scoffed, rolling her eyes. This was the first time you’d ever witnessed the woman be something other than a dream. “So I can’t have opinions, hm?” 

“I never said—,” Jake tried, getting interrupted by her continuing. 

She was piercing him with a glare, tone biting. “Did you ever stop to think about how it hurt my feelings when you refused to see 21 Savage with me? And after I got us the tickets, no less?” 

You didn’t mean to snort a small laugh at her words. 

But. . . 21 Savage?!

Thankfully, you weren’t alone in finding amusement in the words as everyone else had a similar response. Sammy spit out the drink he’d just taken, some of it even coming out of his nose. Daniel had clapped a hand over his mouth and dragged it down his face, closing his eyes in the process. 

And Josh turned to you as soon as you turned your sights to him. He made eyes at you, raising his brows with a grin threatening to turn into a laugh. If he could’ve spoken, you assumed he’d say something along the lines of ‘oh, shit.’

Sam was the next to speak, barely able to catch a breath as he wiped the leftover drink from around his mouth with a napkin. “Maya, my dear,” he giggled, the words distorted a little by the wipe of the napkin. “You surely can’t have an emotional connection with his music?”

“Maybe I do,” she retorted, scooting away from Jake a little. Crossing her arms over her cleavage, she eyed Sammy, judgmentally. “Maybe it saw me through some really hard times.”

“Did it?” Danny tried, his face seeming earnest in pursuit to find sense in her music taste. 

“Well,” her eyes found Danny’s, but darted around a bit, still. “Not necessarily. . . But I do enjoy his music. . . Which is my prerogative.”

Josh’s brow was quirked. He stared her down, his face a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “Maya,” he cleared his throat. Her eyes found him, hard and defensive. But it was obvious she was losing some steam. “There is a difference between enjoying music and having it change the entire trajectory of your entire life.”

Before she could sputter out a response, the waiter was back at the head of the table with the two pizzas the guys had ordered. 

“One pepperoni pizza,” she said, placing one giant tray of pizza on the table. 

Your nose immediately picked up on the overwhelming scent of cheese and pepperoni. You had never smelt something so greasy. This was even worse than the greasy smell at Waffle House on the morning you’d gone with Elsie. And where there, you could find some sort of nostalgic comfort in the smell of it. . . there was nothing that could make this pizza’s smell appealing. Fuck.

“And. . .,” Sammy’s excited tone broke through your nauseous reverie. 

You didn’t look up, only watched in near agony as the second pizza, filled with every vegetable in the book, was sat right in front of you. Every fucking vegetable had it’s own special, rancid smell that you hadn’t ever noticed until now. 

Goddamn. And it just got worse as you let your eyes follow a slice that Sam took off the tray, cheese so disgustingly stringy, to his waiting mouth. The way his teeth sunk into the pizza and the oil slipped down his chin. . . You felt the bile rise in the back of your throat at the sight. The dizziness set in again. Then there was the cheese that came to the corner of his mouth as he chewed his first bite with an open mouth. 

Closing your eyes, you tried your best to will it away. 

But you couldn’t. It was too late. Behind your closed eyes, all you could see was the sight again, but this time, in slow motion. . . more and more repulsive with every flash of the image. 

You found Josh’s leg, hitting it repeatedly to indicate that you needed out of the booth. Your other hand, held tightly over your mouth, which felt as though it could explode with projectile vomit at any moment. 

That would be real cute. A really effective way to make Jake look at you. . . but not for the reasons you’d want. 

At. All.

Thankfully, Josh got the hint and quickly scooted out of the booth to allow you out. 

And as soon as your feet hit the concrete floor, you were speeding to the bathroom once more. This time, immediately landing on your knees over the toilet with a hand clutching your hair, as you retched the (very little) contents of your stomach into the toilet.

It was alarming, to say the least, as you saw only clear saliva goo floating around in the bowl. . . no food accompanying the sickness you’d just produced. 

I haven’t eaten today, you thought suddenly, wiping your brow of the sweat that had accumulated. Nothing to puke out because everything sounded vile.

And then the dizziness was setting in again as you rose from your place on the ground.

You really hadn’t been eating much at all. And pickles, being the only thing you could stand to eat, did not give you proper nutrients. You knew that. 

Have to figure something out, you decided as you washed your hands. Disturbingly, you saw four hands instead of two and it was daunting at best. Need to go home and do some research so I can figure out how to fucking eat something.

By the time you got back to the booth, you already had your keys out of your belt bag. 

Josh gave you a sympathetic grin. He mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’ and you just shook your head, reassuring him with a mimicked ‘It’s fine’ in response.

When you snapped your head up from Josh to say bye to the others, you realized that Jake was watching you closely. Pensively. Unsurely. 

You gulped, setting your eyes on him. If only you knew, Jake. . . But, suddenly, anger was flaring in the place of any butterflies. Lack of food and pregnancy could do that to a person. But you don’t know. So quit looking at me. 

“You feelin’ sick, Baby Dragon?” Sam said, breaking you out of your staring contest with Jake.

“Yeah, noticed you weren’t drinking tonight. . . you okay?” Danny interjected. 

“O–Oh, yeah. No, yeah,” you shook your head, which only caused your head to throb. Shit. “Just tired. Exhausted from school.” And from carrying a human life in my uterus. “I wanna get home and rest.”

“I forced her to come tonight,” Josh added. He looked at you before exchanging looks with the other guys, emphasizing his point to help you out. “She has had her nose to the fucking grindstone. I insisted she needed a night out.”

“Forced her?” Jake scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “God, y/n. If you don’t want to come, then don’t come.”

You fumed at his words. What the fuck? Just minutes ago he was jumping to defend your song. “He didn’t force me,” you growled back at him. Don’t test a pregnant woman carrying your goddamn baby, Jacob. “What he meant was that he encouraged me to come since I haven’t been around for a while.”

“And why’s that?” Jake pushed, continuing to jest at you. Is this a game to you, asshole? 

“Jake,” Josh snapped, tone sharp and heated. 

“School,” you asserted (with a partial lie), shutting your eyes when you started seeing two of him. When you opened them to stare back at him, you focused hard as you continued to see four brown eyes instead of two. “But that’s not really any of your business is it, Jake?”

He was silent, his jaw clenching. Then he looked back to Maya, starting a conversation with her, effectively shutting you out. 

You weren’t sure how long you could put up with the hot and cold act from him. You knew that he was hurt, but you preferred the moments in recent times where he’d shown the soft side of his heart. The Jake side of his heart. 

The one flashing through your mind at this moment was on the night of the Halloween party. When he’d picked up the dropped brownies for you and then offered to help you carry stuff to your room. . . albeit he had been drunk. It’d still been him. You knew it. It was something he’d do. . . you knew him. 

And you knew him well enough to know when he was acting like an ass, it meant he was hurt. You weren’t oblivious to the recent hurt you’d inflicted on him. . . but why was he suddenly reacting like this again? Why now?

When another wave of dizziness took you over, you had to once again shut your eyes to keep your balance, and you held tight to the strap of your bag. Your head was also, once again, pulsing.

You opened your eyes and tried to stay steady, as you didn’t want to worry the three who cared. Pulling your phone from the pocket of your oversized hoodie, you shook your keys at the guys who still watched with concerned eyes. 

“Be safe,” Danny offered sympathetically, reaching a hand out. You grasped it, rubbing your thumb over the back. 

As soon as he let go, Sam was up and pulling you into a hug. Once he’d succeeded in killing your boobs again, he held onto your shoulders. “We miss you,” he said, breath thick with alcohol that was making your stomach turn. You held your breath and tapped at his hand politely before scooting back from him. “Love you, y/n.”

You repeated the phrase back to him before Josh got up, presumably to walk you to the door. “I promise I’ll start coming around more often again,” you told them. “I miss you, too.”

And just before you stepped to head toward the exit, you found Jake’s eyes again. 

They were softer now, showing concern he couldn’t hide at your current state. But there was still that fire behind them that you’d learned was purely Jake. And it made your heart thump a little harder in your chest.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The tiredness was unreal. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you were so fucking exhausted. Everything that had been happening recently–the therapy, telling Josh that you were pregnant with his twin’s baby, being pregnant with said baby (and worrying that you weren’t), taking sixteen-fucking-hours of classes. . . it had been a lot. That much was obvious as hell. 

And tonight had been emotionally taxing for sure. . . and knowing you, you knew it was more than extremely possible that the emotions alone had been what’d finally done you in. Drained you for all you were worth.

Well, that, and the lack of food in your system. And the persistent barfing.

You'd been poring over the resources that Dr. Rose had given you access to. And, one of the links on their site had informed you that it was extremely possible for the fatigue to peak around this point of the pregnancy–ten to twelve weeks.

And considering you were right about at 12 or so, it was on the mark.

But when you’d read that, you hadn’t been expecting the feeling to be similar to that of being weighed down to the Earth by heavy-ass lead. You were dying to fall into bed and sleep off the exhaustion–right after taking a measly Tylenol for the pounding headache that’d been burgeoning for the past several minutes. 

All you could do at this specific moment, though, was focus on driving–and pulling into the apartment complex with as much precision as possible. The pain in your head was beginning to make your vision blurry and the things around you waved in ways you knew they weren’t supposed to. Goddamn. 

You finally made it to your parking space–by the grace of some higher entity. But, as soon as you tried to move to get out, everything around you began to spin at an accelerated speed. Moaning, you brought two shaking hands up to your eyes as you closed them. You started to count to ten, trying your best to take deep breaths–but even that was getting hard to do. Fuck. 

Finding your motherfucking bearings was proving to be a task and a half. 

And your head was just fucking throbbing relentlessly. 

“Dammit,” you groaned again, the words slurring just a bit. 

Somehow, though, you were able to make the trek from your car to the complex’s staircase–so close, yet so far, from your place. But you could feel the way your heart was thrumming quickly in your chest—just pounding against your ribcage from the basic action of walking.

Everything began waving around you again. You felt like you were floating and your head was becoming lighter and lighter by the second; the only reminder that it housed a brain was the raging, convulsing feeling in your skull. 

Your vision was incredibly blurry at best, as you looked from the base of the stairs, all the way up to the top. The top of the stairs was hardly visible. 

Shit. How the fuck am I going to climb these steps like this?

But, you weren’t able to contemplate it for much longer before everything started fading more and more, until you felt yourself falling and all you saw was a black abyss.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The hand you felt holding yours was the only thing that weighed you down to the white room. The other things that you immediately noticed: the sound of steady beeping (which was incessant) and the smell of antiseptic and bleach wafting from the bedding. 

The bed itself felt reminiscent of high quality cardboard, but the sheets were warmer than you would’ve expected. 

Letting your body relax back into the warm, polycotton sheets, you began to drift back to wherever you’d been. But you felt something hold you to the present. It was the someone with the hand who was helping to keep you conscious. The thumb that swept purposefully across the back of your hand tied you to the real world before you could escape to the one behind your eyelids.

Then you felt the hand holding yours squeeze the slightest bit tighter. Your lids were heavy when you squinted them open–immediately hating the way the fluorescent lighting assaulted your irises. You didn’t know if it was possible, but you were damned sure you could feel your pupils adjusting to the overbearing beams from the bulbs. 

Moaning, you reached your free hand up to cover your eyes. And when you did, you noticed the influx of tubes, taped to and sticking out of your hand. Specifically, the needle connected directly to your vein. What the fuck was going on?

Amidst your confusion, you finally processed who the hand was connected to as you heard his voice.

“Yes, yes,” Josh said in response to something. You noticed that he was seeming to squeeze your hand in little pulsing intervals. When you squeezed back to indicate you were awake, his eyes were immediately on you, abandoning his conversation. “Y/n? Oh, fuck,” his voice was thick with emotion. His gaze became wet as he checked your face over. “I was so worried about you.”

You didn’t know what to say, since you weren’t really sure why you were here or what had happened to get you here. . . All you could remember was being tired and dizzy with a pounding in your head. 

You tried to speak, but it was in vain, as your throat was dry as fuck. All that came from your lips was a measly croak. But, thankfully, Josh was immediately coming to your rescue with one of the hospital’s giant plastic cups, filled to the brim with water. He held the straw to your lips and you sat up a little to have better leverage to take a drink. To your surprise, the pounding in your head was gone, and there was no dizziness accompanying your movements. 

And no nausea – best part of all.

As soon as the water slipped past your lips, you shut your eyes in utter relief. Water had never tasted so good. You weren’t sure if water even had a taste, but at that moment, you swore it did and that it tasted like liquid gold would. 

Once you’d had enough for the moment, almost draining the large cup, you backed away and leaned into the pillows that awaited behind you. 

Sighing in relief, you tried to say words again. And this time, it worked. “What’s going on?” You slowly spoke, your head still feeling slightly airy. You let your eyes trail to Josh’s, questioning him. “Why am I here?”

Then, you started panicking. You shot up from where you’d settled against the pillows, clutching your stomach. The IV’s connected to your hand pulled at your skin, stinging. You ignored the pain though, and felt your tummy. It was still round, but obviously that didn’t mean– oh no. Your deepest fears came to life in your head, piece by terrifying piece. The baby. 

“Oh, fuck, Josh,” you said, your eyes were wild and immediately drew wetness, which ran steadily down your cheeks. No no no no no. “The baby? Is the baby–? Oh–.”

“Yes, yes,” Josh shushed you, running his free hand over the top of your head. “The baby is fine. Already checked and looks the same as it did a few days ago,” his eyes shone with reassurance. “Nothing is wrong with the baby.”

“Heartbeat?”

“Steady as can be.”

You felt your lungs fill with air again. “Okay,” you breathed out, leaning back into the pillows once more. “Okay.”

“But you on the other hand,” he started, his brow raising and eyes burning into yours. “You need to be giving yourself proper attention, mama.”

“I—?” You shook your head. You knew you weren’t the most attentive to yourself, but you’d tried very hard to be more self-serving recently in some regards. Longer showers, Friends, Cosmic Brownies (RIP) and pickles, therapy (if that counted). . . “I’ve been trying. . .” 

But the vomiting is proving some of that to be impossible, Joshua, you thought silently, snidely.

“What your friend is trying to tell you,” the doctor began. Your eyes shifted to her, an older woman with delicate features whose gray hair was pushed back by a pair of readers. Then her brows wrinkled. “Well—friend? Father of the baby?”

You both spoke at the same time.

“Oh, no—.”

“Not me,” Josh corrected with a laugh, his smile bright and humored underneath his new mustache. “That’s my brother’s baby in there.”

Ridiculously, you began to blush at hearing Josh say it out loud. You were learning that any time it came from his lips, it made your breath catch in your chest just a little.

Jake’s baby. 

“Oh, my apologies,” she smiled, her crows feet wrinkling, voice wise with years of experience. “I just wanted to proceed using the correct title to address you. Speaking of which, I am Dr. Stevens. It’s nice to meet you, Miss y/n.”

“Same to you,” you answered with a tiny, unsure smile and nod. “Thank you.”

Dr. Stevens hummed, then came to sit on the end of the bed, same side as Josh. You eyed her curiously as her expression turned a touch more serious. “Miss y/n,” she said, sounding like you’d imagine a caring mother would. “You are here because your iron was frighteningly low,” she said, concerned and checking your chart. “If it had gone untreated one more night, you would have been incredibly ill and unable to function properly at all come morning.”

“What?” You asked, shocked. Anemia wasn’t a new thing to you, you’d always had it. How had it intensified so quickly? “I mean, sure, I’ve always had mild anemia. Just kind of a thing that’s been there . . .haven’t thought about it in years, actually,” (because of some damn triggering, buried memories attached to it). “But I’ve never had – it’s never been as. . . Intense as this,” you held up your hand that was covered in tape and inserted tubes.

“Well, honey, you’re carrying a baby now who also needs those vital nutrients to help it develop,” she counseled. “And proper hydration,” she reminded. You nodded, eyes zoned in on your hands, full with pieces of plastic and tape, and not her face. When Dr. Stevens spoke next, her voice was the most stern it’d been so far. “And prenatal vitamins– those are essential for you and the baby.”

Your eyes flicked up to hers. The way she pierced you with her stare made you lean back like a scolded puppy. Your tail would have been between your legs if you had one.

Why hadn’t you bought any damned prenatals yet? Fuck all.

“Yes ma’am. I don’t know why I haven’t been taking–,” you tried, huffing. You were ashamed of yourself. “God, I feel bad,” you placed two hands on your tummy and looked down at it through the hospital gown you’d been changed into. “How has all of it not harmed the baby?”

“Well, again, tomorrow would have been a completely different story had you not been rushed in tonight,” she reminded, talking you through it slowly. “But we’ve got fluids pumping through you to get you back to normal.” She motioned to Josh, you looked at him with a small smile that he reciprocated. “And your friend has promised to take you for a prenatal run tomorrow morning. To find the ones that you feel might suit you best.” Dr. Stevens smiled, looking over at your bedside table. Your eyes followed, seeing the small medicine bottle sitting there, waiting for you. “For now, I have a couple ready to send home with you,” she assured.

“I’ve never been the best at prioritizing my health,” you mumbled, messing with a loose thread on the hospital gown. Josh held the hand that was anxiously picking at the material, making you stop. You looked over to see his kind, encouraging eyes. “I have ingrained my brain with several unhealthy, learned habits,” you admitted, finally looking at Dr. Stevens again. “So I guess this was a reality check of sorts. That it’s not just me anymore. I can’t just ignore what I need to acknowledge.”

You didn’t know what was inspiring the constant flow of transparently deep emotions to all of these unknown people in your life, but you weren’t totally opposed to it anymore. 

Dr. Stevens’ face contorted to show that she had sympathy. You were relieved. But when she spoke next, her voice was firm. “You’re right. This baby is forcing you to take care of yourself so he or she can survive and come out healthy and happy. I believe this baby is teaching you some proper life skills. But you need to be eating well to help this child have a good, healthy time in the womb. . .help him or her thrive at this vital stage in its life.”

God. She was right. You had seen the words Failure to Thrive on multiple sources you’d checked out about pregnancy. . . .always just skimmed past them, as it didn’t seem to pertain to you. But, of course it did. The vomiting. Not taking prenatals (seriously, what the fuck, y/n?). The lack of eating anything (save for the baby pickles). . .

You’d been so in your head about the present state of your health that you hadn’t taken nearly enough time to consider the baby. 

“I’ve just never been bad about eating. This is new,” you confided. “And it’s just gotten worse this past week or so. . . I haven’t been able to eat. Everything has made me want to vomit.” Then you decided to add, “Well, everything besides pickles. They’ve been my only source of any nutrients – which I know is pathetic, by the way – I just–just can’t even be in the same room as most food, much less eat it.”

“You’re experiencing a severe case of hyperemesis gravidarum, which is just a fancy way of saying that you’re excessively vomiting during your pregnancy. It’s due to a drastic change in hormones. Your HCG levels are through the roof, where they’re usually not. Most women just have to suffer through it,” she said in response, handing you sheet with the fancy medical term at the top. “That is an information sheet. Keeps you informed on the ins and outs of why you might be experiencing it.” She sighed before going on. “It will pass, honey. Give it a few more weeks and you should be over the worst of it – if not before. But being anemic makes it that much worse,” she explained, flipping her readers over her eyes and looking through the papers on her fancy clipboard. “You’ve just gotta stay on top of those preexisting conditions.”

“And not taking the prenatals. . .,” she scolded, making you look up from scanning the sheet. She gave you a look. “Is what has you in this condition. You should also be taking an additional iron supplement. I’m. . . sure you didn’t tell your OB about your previous anemia?” She wondered aloud. 

“No,” you murmured. “I really haven’t seen it present itself since I was really young. And it wasn’t really severe. . . at least I don’t think,” you rubbed your forehead, suddenly experiencing several sad moments in time. From a long time ago. So, once again, you bared your heart and explained.  “There are things from my childhood that I’ve forgotten. And even though I do actually know I experienced bouts of it during that time, I haven’t ever really acknowledged it because I just kind of forced myself to forget about it.”

Really, for some godforsaken reason, thinking about your anemia only brought back very unwelcome flashes of your mother’s house. . . and other dirty places you didn’t want to think about. Hence why you’d blocked it out.

Josh squeezed your hand– tried to bring you back.

Thankfully, Dr. Stevens continued before the thoughts could take over. “I am sorry, honey,” she said, empathetic. But, she continued on professionally. “The hard truth is that some of the things that have always sort of laid dormant can come back with a raging force during pregnancy. . . simply considering that the pregnancy is essentially a revamp on your body,” she paused when you chuckled at the word ‘revamp’. Yeah, right. She smirked at it, too. “I know, funny word choice. Doesn’t always feel like you’re revamping,” she flipped to the next page in her chart. “What I mean is, things can come back up and be bigger–stronger–than before. One more thing that is changing and increasing in your body. Medical conditions from the past may come back and get more ‘intense’,” she winked at you, using your word from earlier. “But, it’s important: now that the anemia has shown itself again – so aggressively –  at a time that your body is already very vulnerable. . .” She sighed, flipping her readers back into her dark gray hair before unclipping a paper from the chart and handing it to you. “It’s time we get a handle on all of it before it possibly shows its ugly face again.”

The sheet she handed you included several foods that you could eat to remedy the morning sickness. Some of which had made you feel like puking – or actually puke. But, there were a few things you didn’t have at home. Boring, bland foods. Things you just never bought. A few fruits and vegetables. . .

And a shit ton of vitamins.

“A lot of plain Jane stuff on there, I know. And vitamins, vitamins, vitamins,” she acknowledged. “But those supplements and bland diet are what will see you through the dark ages of this morning sickness. We need to treat that first. And then, you should be able to ease yourself into other foods and get your iron levels healthy again for you and your baby. Please focus on following that guide of foods and vitamins and just call my extension – which I attached to the top of that sheet – if you have any issues.” 

She then passed one more sheet over to you and added one more piece of information. “This sheet will include the Hemoglobin Kit I’ve ordered for you and it will be sent to the address your friend provided for us within the next few days. Please be using it to check your hemoglobin levels. Hemoglobin is the main component of red blood cells–a protein– that we need to see at normal levels. I’ve included where your levels should be on that sheet. They should never be too low or too high. Please read the information on the sheet and in the kit to answer any additional questions you may have. This will help you to track of how your levels are doing and if your anemia is spiking again,” she said, her voice seeming to drone on and on in your ears. “And again, call if you have any questions or concerns.”

As you continued reading through the paper, she unclipped another and handed it over to you.

You really were thankful for the documents, really, but dear god there were a lot of them. Virtually and physically. From your OB visit and tonight. It was overwhelming . . . made your skin feel tight and overheated.

It was also a lot of information for you to over-fucking-think. 

I’ll have to take them to Gia. She’ll help me sort through them, you reassured yourself, taking a deep breath in and out to calm the nerves. 

“And the morning sickness should. . . pass sooner rather than later?” Josh’s question broke through your reverie. Your eyes shut to refocus on the present moment and not the papers.

“It should, yes. For most women, it does,” the graying doctor confirmed. “You’re. . .how far along? I’d estimate about eleven, maybe twelve weeks?”

“Yes,” you nodded. “Twelve weeks according to my OB.”

“Yep. You should only have a few weeks – or less – left. Just try the foods on that sheet. The vitamins. Stay hydrated. There are several recommended supplements the sheet provides. You can find most all of them on Amazon.” 

You handed the sheets over to Josh, needing them away from you for the time being. You needed to be in the now. Needed to focus on anything else the aging, wise doctor may need to say. 

To put it plainly, tonight’s event landing you in the hospital had you scared shitless. And learning as much as possible from her would hopefully wind up putting your mind at ease. . . though, at this moment, it just had your heart rate increasing rather quickly.

She eyed the monitor next to your bed, moving closer to it as she observed something. “There goes that heart rate again,” she squinted at the vitals once more before pushing her glasses into her hair. She looked down at her chart, her lips pursing and readers going back on as she checked it over. “That’s another thing I want to address,” she hummed, sitting next to your legs, facing you and Josh from her seat. “Have you been under a lot of stress lately? A major change? Besides the baby? Mentally, perhaps? Emotionally?” She questioned. “Because while your iron levels were scarily low, your heart rate was also dramatically high. Which, yes, is related to the iron levels. . . but, I thought I’d go ahead and check as more often than not, it can pertain to an extreme amount of stress your heart is under from other sources.”

You stuttered out a response that involved you beginning therapy for the first time in years. You tried to touch on how you were experiencing a lot of emotions around what you would eventually be talking about in therapy. . . how you’d already bared your heart to Gia and opened up every single gate possible to effectively begin therapy. 

“I wanted to do it. Still do," you explained, needing Dr. Stevens to know that. “I would do it all over again right now if I needed to. She’s already helped me so much – after only one session, just with me basically projectile vomiting my past and emotions all over the room.” You took a breath, before finishing. “It doesn’t make it any less difficult though. It hurts. Physically, it hurts to talk about it all. I know it will all come together in the end. I trust the process–I trust my therapist. But it was extremely taxing – on top of everything else I’m feeling right now.” You glanced over at Josh before adding, “The baby’s father is. . . he’s just. . .”

“A lot,” Josh finished with a half-chuckle. “He’s a very good guy. He’s just a lot.”

“I have a lot of feelings about everything happening in my life right now, I’ll just say that,” you ventured to tell her. “And I had somewhat of a handle on my anxiety and depression before I got pregnant, but it’s also been something to resurface in a brand new way with the pregnancy hormones. Without me even knowing it sometimes. And before I know it, my heart is actually hurting my chest from the amount of pressure I’m putting myself under.”

Josh scooted his chair over closer to you and wrapped one of your hands in two of his, holding on tightly.

“It hasn’t all really clicked until now. . . that all of it might be related to my. . . issues,” you confirmed aloud, peeking over at Josh just briefly before looking back to Dr. Stevens. You’d just spilled your entire heart and it was making you feel extremely uneasy. God, she hadn’t asked to hear all of that. “I’m so sorry about spilling all of whatever that was,” you waved your hands around before combing them through your hair, trying to breathe deep breaths. You found her eyes, which you now realized were green. “I really–god, fuck. I’m– that was a lot for you to hear and you didn’t ask for the whole–.”

“I needed to hear it all,” she consoled you, tapping a comforting hand on the top bed sheet, rather than your leg. “It helps me assess the situation. . . and from what I’ve heard, it sounds like the most probable cause of you fainting tonight was due to the iron deficiency and your heart.” She assessed the numbers on the blinking monitor yet again. “It just hasn’t slowed much since you’ve been here, sweetie. Even with the medications we’ve given you to temporarily alleviate it, it’s still been sitting at around 120 beats per minute. And since you’ve been awake, it’s spiked enough to cause some concern to this doctor.”

As she expressed her concern again for your thrumming heart, (which you had noticed an increase in it’s pounding as of late) it began beating a little harder once again, causing an unpleasant tightness within your sternum. You winced. 

Josh noted the change almost as quickly as you did. His hands that held onto yours began squeezing even tighter, the skin of his palms now wet and clammy. He brought your hand, wrapped in his, up to his chin. The hair on his chin was unfamiliar to the last time you’d touched his face (who even knew when you last did that), but it still felt familiar enough against your knuckles to calm some of your nerves.

You couldn’t help but look at him with wide, fearful eyes. His eyes were steady on you, his attention only breaking from you to look at Dr. Stevens with a nonverbal note of worry for you. 

She stood from the bed and came to stand beside you, inserting the buds to the stethoscope around her neck, and held the circular part to your back. “Cough for me, sweetie,” she told you, her calm demeanor forcing you to come back from your momentary freak out. “Make it a big one.”

You found it to be an odd request, but you weren’t in any place to question this doctor who had shown you nothing but kindness. And offered help when you, apparently, so desperately needed it.

You did as she said, and forced the best cough you could muster. It instantly relieved the tension in your chest, even lowered your heart rate a bit as you watched the blinking numbers begin to drop on the screen. 

“Wh-what was that? Am I having a heart attack?” You felt silly asking her that. . .but you didn’t know any better, it may as well have been your body plummeting straight into a cardiac arrest. 

This was all a lot, and now you were very hyper aware of every little change in your heart that you felt, saw, or heard from the screen.

She chuckled softly, taking the stethoscope away from her ears, hanging once again around her neck. She watched your vitals intently as the blood pressure cuff attached to your left arm (that you hadn’t noticed yet) began squeezing you rather uncomfortably. 

“You’re not having a heart attack, my dear. Not even close,” she reassured. Although, you still felt the worry present in the pit of your tummy that you were unknowingly clutching again. “I am no stranger to the intense effects of anxiety. I’ve seen it time and time again. I think that was a big part of the palpitation episode you experienced a few minutes ago and the persistent increase in your heart rate I've seen so far tonight. However, I would like to conduct a little further testing. Just want to be sure your heart is nice and strong – for you and for the baby.”

You felt the air from Josh’s lungs release against your knuckles as he let out the breath he must’ve been holding, squeezing your hand just as tight as before. As terrified as you were, his presence provided the safety net your spirit needed to not be thrown back in a massive panic attack. 

She sat down on the bed next to you once again, her kind eyes offering little comfort right now as you start to feel overwhelmed with the sudden discovery of so many things that were apparently wrong with your body.

“If you can remember, have you ever been rather sensitive to the heat? Maybe suffered from heat strokes during your youth?” 

Her question had your mind yet again returning to your past that had been kept securely behind a locked door with no key. A place you didn’t venture often. 

But it did bring forth some hazy recollections of your days as a child, playing outside in the thick,  dry summer heat. How you couldn’t stand to be out in it for very long without feeling. . . faint. And dizzy. So fucking dizzy. 

A long since forgotten trait of yours that you never thought to pay any mind to. 

“Um– yeah, actually. Now that I think about it, Summers were always a challenge. I couldn’t stand being outside for much longer than a few minutes some days without feeling like I could pass out or throw up,” you huffed a humorless laugh at the memories playing back in your head. Miserable times. “It was. . .fucking awful.” 

You’d suddenly started to remember all the times you felt faint as a child. But it wasn’t always from the rise in temperature. Sometimes, it was from the stresses your mom tossed your way, the fights, the troubles that brewed in your home. It became more and more clear that fainting was most definitely not new to you. You just couldn’t remember. 

“Okay,” Dr. Stevens continued, her hand now patting your shin as she seemed to pick up on the unease of remembering your past. “What about when you go to stand up after a period of being seated or lying down, does your vision become a bit obscured at times? Like you’re seeing stars? Tunneled vision, maybe?”

“I mean, y-yeah,” you stuttered. “Sometimes. But it doesn't last for very long. Doesn’t everybody experience that, though?”

You had no clue where she was going with all of these questions— questions that she seemingly already knew the answers to. Of what it all meant, you weren’t sure. But you knew you needed her to cut to the chase soon before you began plummeting even further down the anxious path you’d started paving. 

“What does it mean? Is this something I should be worried about?” You asked through newly developed tears you had no control over. 

Your mind was running rampant with only one singular thought: the baby. What does this mean for the baby? 

“You don’t need to worry, sweetie. This is actually a lot more common than you think.”

She stood up from the bed, unclipping one more piece of paper from the board she’d been holding prior to sitting down. She handed it over to you, the paper weighing your hand down with what you were to find on it. 

But before you could begin to worry about what was on it, she was explaining it to you.

“That sheet is going to inform you on the ins and outs of Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, most commonly referred to as POTs,” she seriously informed, her eyebrows dipping to show concern for your worries that you knew were painted all over your face. 

“That’s a funny name,” Josh giggled, the breath from the laugh he’d let out fanned against your knuckles. “Like pots and pans. . . you know?”

You wanted to slap him because, shut the fuck up, Josh, now is not the time, but. . . try as you might, it actually calmed you down a bit. You couldn’t help the tiny ghost of a grin that floated over your lips.

Dr. Stevens glared at him, causing him to stop his little joke, before she continued on. “POTs,” she enunciated the name while flashing her eyes to Josh, “is nothing to be concerned with, but it is a valid heart condition that does require a bit more testing to confirm if it’s present or not. Just to be safe.” 

You peered down at the sheet in front of you and the bolded print that you tried so fucking hard to not be too overwhelmed by. It wasn’t the worst possible condition, but it was still a fucking heart condition that you could possibly have. And with everything else that’d happened tonight and your current life predicament. . . it was causing your head to spin.

Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS) is a condition that causes a number of symptoms when you transition from lying down to standing up, such as a fast heart rate, dizziness and fatigue. While there’s no cure, several treatments and lifestyle changes can help manage the symptoms of POTS.

As you read the small print across the page, she told you exactly what it was she suspected you had. “To put it plainly, your heart can’t pump blood quickly enough to your body, resulting in a higher heart rate and a lower blood pressure that can sometimes cause you to faint.” She came close to your bedside again, “If you don’t mind, I am going to need to listen to your heart again.” 

It took you a bit to come to, but when you did, you finally nodded in response. She placed the cold end of the stethoscope against your chest while securing the buds in her ears to listen to you.

“This, combined with your lack of eating that caused the extremely low iron levels could have developed from your pregnancy. Although, I’m willing to bet they’ve been present your entire life. Certain instances can trigger them. Stress, severe anxiety, or pregnancy. In your case, dear, I’d say it’s all of the above. A bit of a trifecta, you could say. The ingredients for the perfect, terrifying storm.” 

“Jesus, mama," Josh breathed, his lips faintly brushed over your knuckles as he continued to hold your hand close to his face. “You have got to start taking care of yourself. I can’t stand to see you like this.”

You knew that. God, you knew that. It had always been easier said than done. But it was no longer all about you anymore; the moment the life began growing within you, it gave you a newfound motivation to take care of yourself for the little life you were now responsible for.

“What other testing needs to be done?” You asked. You were hesitant of what her answer would be, but if it provided a step in the right direction towards becoming the healthiest version of yourself that you could possibly be, you were all ears.

“There’s a specific test, a tilt table test, that must be done to provide us with a little more insight to the specifics of your case. However, it’s not safe to perform it while you're pregnant,” she explained. “So for now, I’m just going to send in for a heart monitor that will be delivered to your house in the next week or so. You’ll wear it for four weeks and that'll give us plenty of information in the meantime. I’m also going to refer you to one of the best cardiologists we have on staff here.”

A heart monitor? That sounded utterly terrifying to you. 

“I am also going to insist that you keep track of your hemoglobin levels daily,” she continued. “You can also buy your own blood pressure cuff to partner with the hemoglobin kit we have set to deliver at your doorstep. You should be able to apply your insurance to the purchase of the blood pressure cuff, if you decide to include that step as well,” Stevens took a deep breath before going on. “Keep a daily journal to log your numbers. Just a notebook to track your blood pressure and hemoglobin levels. It’s vital that you do these things, y/n. Fainting like this can not be a normal occurrence. It’s not good for you or the baby.” When she spoke next, you felt your heart leap into your throat. “The lasting effects on you or the fetus could be life threatening if you’re not careful. . . could be terribly detrimental to the baby’s development—specifically his or her little body or brain development.”

Life threatening. Detrimental. Baby’s development. Little body or brain development.

You heard your heart rate go up on the monitor, but you weren’t about to freak yourself out any further by looking at the changing numbers. You literally felt your pulse quicken and your breath become shallow in your throat as you struggled to take full breaths.

Focus on the now. Focus on what is real. What is right now. Baby is not in trouble yet. 

You have time.

You brought a thumb and middle finger up to your temple, rubbing away furiously to relieve the oncoming headache that had been simmering at the surface for the past several minutes. Your other hand found its home on your swollen belly.

It was all so overwhelming–staggering, really, and you weren’t prepared for any of it in the slightest. 

But, then again, how would someone prepare? You felt as if you were living in a brand new body, much different from the one you’d lived your whole life in up to this point. There was so fucking much out of your control and unknown. It was all pushing down, heavily, on your already-tense shoulders.

“Relax, mama,” Josh sensed your tension, and knowing you as well as he did, he knew it was time to start helping you articulate the right questions. He brushed his thumb across the back of your hand as he calmly asked, “What do we need to do if her numbers aren’t. . . normal? What are some measures we can take to get them to where they need to be?” 

The fact that he was willing to stand alongside you during this whole thing, that he wanted to, it was such a comforting thing to know at this moment. Not that you had any doubt in your mind, but hearing him say something as simple as ‘we’. . . it just warmed your heart completely. 

“Lots of fluids,” she answered through a sincere smile. “And an increase in your salt intake to help your body maintain those fluids.” She handed you yet another sheet and sat back down next to you, looking you in the eye with a stern, motherly expression. “That should help you out with foods to eat and fluids to drink, in addition to the sheet from earlier. But, honey, you need to change your diet. It’s essential that you incorporate healthy eating habits at this point in your pregnancy. After you’ve gotten your body accustomed to the bland foods on the other list I’ve supplied you, you need to start adding lots of iron heavy foods to your meals. Meats, leafy greens, rice. . . things of that nature.” She searched your eyes, hers kind and knowledgeable from years in the field. “Alright?”

You nodded your head in confirmation, wondering how the hell you were going to make that happen with the way normal food left you utterly disgusted at the present time. 

“We’ll make sure of that, doc,” Josh responded in your place, throwing a wink at you as he knew damn well how horrible your food aversions had been. 

“M-my therapy,” you found your voice. “It’s going to be intense. It will cause my body stress.” Dr. Stevens looked at you quizzically before you went on, “It’s called EMDR therapy. Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing; although, I’m sure you’ve heard of it in your profession. I don’t know all of the logistics yet, but I know it’s not a conventional form of therapy. What do I do if I wish to continue that? Should I continue it?”

“It should be safe, as long as you make sure to have a thorough discussion with your therapist after each session. That is dire in helping your body and your mind process it all in a healthy manner. In order to have a healthy body, you must also take care of your mind, especially in those circumstances. I do want you to consult with your therapist over how much stress you’ll be able to handle at any given time. Don’t let your mind go too far. If you have a good therapist, they’ll know the signs if you’ve had enough, though, don’t be afraid to tell them.” 

If there was one thing you did know about all this uncertainty, it was that you could trust Gia to not lead you astray, or towards anything that would be detrimental to your mental health. 

Dr. Stevens smiled, her clipboard once again tight in her grip before she stepped further to the curtained room you were shielded by. “Do you have any more questions?” 

Josh glanced at you, waiting for you to say anything or waiting for you to communicate something for him to say on your behalf. You were sure you had questions, but you were just fucking flooded with stress to the point that all you wanted to do was sleep. . . just ready to get home.

Also, seeing as it was an emergency room, the idea was to get patients in and out. Wasn’t supposed to be the length of a standard visit. 

You’d taken up too much of her time.

So, you shook your head at Josh and then looked to Dr. Stevens to tell her no thank you.

And when you did, you glanced down at the name on her coat and the name of the hospital stitched into the white fabric. You hadn’t even noticed. . . .  Cedars-Sinai.

Same hospital I’ll have the baby at, if all goes according to plan, you suddenly realized, the thought bringing you a weird sense of peace. And it will go according to plan.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Josh went about gathering up all of the documents that had been handed to you and the prenatal pills provided as a nurse came in to disconnect all of your tubes and shit. He'd waited outside the curtain. and asked the nurse a few more questions as you'd changed back into your clothes.

And on the ride home, he’d put on peaceful music over the speaker of the car. He was used to doing it when you rode in his car as you hated riding in it. But tonight? Tonight you found comfort in the hunk of creaking metal. 

Because it meant you were going home. 

When you got home, Josh helped you up to the apartment and went about opening the front door and setting up your bed for you. All while you brushed your teeth, pulled up your hair that smelled like hospital, and changed into your comfiest PJs. 

Just as he’d tucked you in and was about to leave, you pulled on his hand and begged for him to stay. You really didn’t want to be alone for the night, mumbling as much to him. 

So, like the perfect friend he was, he set up a pallet on the floor as you tossed him a pillow from your bed. 

And to your solace, sleep found you as soon as your head hit the satin of your pillowcase. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 14, 2022

Every Monday being your therapy day was honestly the perfect way to start your week. You’d decided that on the way to the counseling practice on the chilly November afternoon of your second appointment.

You already knew it would be like it had been before. Before, (on your first and only other visit before today’s) it had just felt like a breath of fresh air to talk to a licensed professional like Gia. She was just fucking amazing. And you knew every week would be like before: a fresh start with a confidant who could give you killer fucking advice. A little date of sorts with a licensed professional who was positively eager to help you get through your week (life, generally) the best you possibly could.

Well, at least your therapist was eager to do that. 

Even as you sat on her trendy, camel-colored leather couch for your second appointment, you felt completely comfortable and at ease with Gia. She had already become one of your favorite people. 

You’d spent the first thirty minutes or so filling her in on telling Josh, your first prenatal exam (also showed her the sonogram pictures, which she’d loved), and the emergency visit. No details had been spared and you made sure she had time to give you any advice or words of wisdom she deemed necessary. But she’d really just let you have the floor and talk. 

Once you wrapped up your scary details from the night of the E.R., handed over all of the documents you wanted to sort through with her, and talked through them until you felt more ease about all of the anemia and heart shit, she’d looked at you seriously. 

Pinned you with a stare, her eyes sparkling like emeralds as she thoughtfully assessed you. 

She sat down her tea, and then wheeled herself over to you. Her oversized sweater was a turtle neck that matched the color of her couch, and the too-long sleeves of it touched your hands as she grasped them loosely in her hands. “Y/n,” she began, peering at you openly through her circular, wire framed-lenses, “We do not have to do EMDR. I want to remind you, it is entirely up to you if you choose to go that route. If you are fearful of it causing too much stress, I understand wanting to venture down another therapeutic route.”

“No,” you shook your head, a small smile curled the corner of your lips to reassure her. “I want to do it. I believe it’s what will work best to get to the heart of things. Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she agreed, brow knitted. “I just don’t want you to feel any unnecessary stress during this vulnerable time in your life.”

“As long as you promise to help me wrap it all up with a good talk at the end of each appointment,” you suggested with hope evident in your tone. “To wrap it up as much as we can for me to make it through the week.”

She grinned. “I can do that,” she affirmed with one certain nod, her loose bun, full of her soft blonde hair bounced with the action. “Did the doctor recommend continuing it?”

“Yep. Said it shouldn’t be an issue if we manage to discuss it all at the end of each session,” you offered. “Doesn’t want me carrying around anything unresolved that could make my stress levels increase.”

“Well, that’s definitely doable,” she confirmed with a wide grin. Scooting back, she grabbed her tea from the repurposed desk in the corner of her office before propping her ankle on top of her bent knee. “So, if you do wish to continue with EMDR, I’ll go ahead and explain it a little better than I have yet.”

“I do,” you said as a final agreement. “What should I know before we start?”

So, Gia proposed EMDR and all of the benefits that could come from the specific form of therapy. You listened to every detail readily. Were you scared? Yes. Were you anxious to begin? Also yes. It was intriguing and a little exciting to be so close to finally diving deep into the curves and corners of your mind and memories. 

Once she’d finished with that, she was rolling her chair back over to you and placing her elbows on the ends of her thighs as she bent to talk intimately with you. When she spoke, the smell of spearmint on her breath was oddly calming. “There’s something I feel I should mention before we begin. A bit of a warning that you should heed. Some clients experience this, some don’t. But something to be aware of, nonetheless.” 

Your eyes widened at her use of the word ‘warning,’ and her sudden change in tone made you believe this was something a little more serious. You knew there were risks involved with this somewhat unconventional form of therapy, but you hadn’t let yourself delve into all of them just yet. You had tried your best to leave the ball in Gia’s court to explain it all to you. 

And you knew that anything deemed risky, Gia would let you know of them before you agreed. Any online research wouldn't be nearly as viable as it would be coming straight from Gia’s mouth. 

Still yet, your heart beat just a little faster in preparation for whatever she had to tell you.

Deep breaths, y/n.

“Tell me,” you asserted. In search of some extra comfort, you placed a hand on your belly, the pulse vibrating in your palm also immediately triggered the fear in you that your heart was possibly over exerting itself.

Deep. Breaths. Gia’s got this. She won’t let you do anything too risky to your health. She wouldn’t let you.

“Some people report experiencing rather intense flashbacks that can come unannounced. And when I say intense, I truly mean just that, y/n. If they come, they can be debilitating.” 

This was the first you had seen her eyes downturned, a picture of worry painted within her emerald green irises. “There have also been accounts of severe nightmares—well, more along the lines of night terrors. The kind that can wake you up in a panic. I just want you to be aware of these possibilities before we begin. I need you to promise me right now, that if these things do happen, you’ll call me. I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the night or the middle of the day, you have to call me, and I will answer.” 

Middle of the day? They could come then, too? Shit.

“Is it. . .  really that serious?” You took a moment to ponder your question, not entirely sure what to make of it all just yet. (And you couldn’t help but wonder if Jake found out about these little occurrences during his research before bringing the idea up to you.)

“It can be,” she noted with a stern tone that sent yet another wave of anxiety through your tense muscles. “That’s why I need you to make me that promise. That isn’t something you should ever experience alone. As I said, it can be debilitating.”

Your mind began turning furiously with the thought of having to experience flashbacks. Would they be flashbacks to things you already remembered? Or worse. . . things you didn’t? Both?

If you were being honest with yourself, you knew the answer and it was honestly terrifying to you.

For a split second, you started to doubt whether or not this was the right solution for you. But, you couldn’t deny any longer that you did need the help. You had to be better. For you and for the life that was growing inside of you. The baby needed a healed mother. 

And you knew Gia was the perfect person to guide you through it. You trusted her, and that was something that has never come easily for you. 

“I’ll admit,” you began, still holding tight to your belly, reminding yourself of the growing reason why you needed to do this. “I’m nervous. But I still want to do it. I promise I’ll call you when— if— that happens. . . but, what if you’re not available?”

“Don’t be nervous. You’ve got this.” She flashed you her sparkling white teeth in a smile that put your spirit right back at ease. “And I do my best to answer. It’s my job as your therapist to see you through this. Some don’t take it as seriously as I do, but I know that you’ll need me in your corner and I’m happy to be there. I signed up for this, just like you did,” she grinned, once again using her feet to scoot her back to her desk, in her plush, light pink chair. “But, on the off chance I’m not able to answer, I would immediately contact someone you trust to see you through it. Hold you. Talk to you. Just be there with you. Whatever you need. Someone who would be willing to do that.” She opened her laptop before turning to you, an idea seeming to spark in her mind. “As a matter of fact, before our next session, why don’t you make it your assignment to think of the person you’ll go to in situations like that? Just one person for now and if you think of more, then double whammy.”

She winked, and you just sent a barely-there grin back to her in response. As she went about clicking open tabs on her computer, you knew you didn’t need until next session to think of your person. 

Because as soon as she started talking about that person, you were back in the hallway of your grandparents’ home – right outside your bedroom. And the person next to you right then and there. . . he was the one you wanted with you if the terrors hit. 

Not Josh. Not even Elsie. 

But Jake. 

Would he be okay with that though? Would it be worth asking him?

Gia was once again speaking as she clicked through a few buttons on her laptop. “Y/n? You okay, love?” 

You looked up, finding her eyes waiting for yours. “Oh–oh, yeah,” you stretched your lips to make the best smile you could. “Just being an overachiever and already brainstorming my person to contact.”

She hummed, giving you a sneaky smirk. “Does it happen to be a certain roommate of yours?”

Eyes bugging, you were shocked that she’d guessed. But were you really? She sorta kinda (definitely) knew the depths of your heart. She'd probably known who you’d want to pick as soon as you'd known it. 

Nodding sheepishly, you decided to ask, “Is that a bad idea?”

“I don’t believe so,” she assured. “From what you’ve told me about him, he seems like a pretty good guy and I think he’d be more than willing to help you if you needed him.”

“Really?”

“Really. It’s also super convenient because he lives with you,” she insisted with a final wink before she said, “Anything I might’ve forgotten will be in the PowerPoint I’m about to send to your email. But, I’ve gotta say, I’ve done it enough times with enough clients, I think I’ve covered every base for today.” A few beats of silence passed before she triumphantly pressed a button. “Aaand, sent!” 

Then, wheeling back over to you, her pristinely white Nikes made the smallest squeak on the stained concrete floor of her office. “Okay, so today,” she began. “How are we feeling?”

“Really good,” you confidently responded, wiping your palms against your leggings before a true smile fit to your features. “When will we start?”

“I think next session we will find your safe place,” she said with a raise of her brow. “I will explain what I mean by ‘safe place’ next time, and directly after, we will send you there. Try not to worry about it until then, okay?” She requested, eyes searching yours for an answer. To which, you nodded. She continued with a grin. “For today, I want to call it quits with the EMDR talk. . . Let you rest. Unless. . . you have any questions, of course. . . .”

You wracked your brain, and when you couldn’t think of anything immediately, you told her you didn’t have any questions. 

“Come with some next time if you think of any. And, my email is always open in between visits if needed–even if it’s just a minor inquiry you have,” she reminded. “Oh! And I’m not sure if I mentioned this yet. . . but, if we need to ever schedule an emergency visit over Zoom or in the office. . . that is also always, always on the table. I know that these things get heavy, and I want to be here for you through all of it, y/n.”

“Got it.”

Although, something did come to your mind as you were both standing to leave the session. You hadn’t given the question much thought in your own mind (shockingly). It had entered your wave of thought the day of your first prenatal appointment. When you’d asked Josh. 

But since then, your mind had been too preoccupied with everything else that had recently happened that this thought had been put on the backburner. 

But, you were curious what her opinion was on the matter, now that it had resurfaced. 

Right before she opened the door, delicate hand on the handle, you grew sweaty. But you needed to ask the question, because if you didn’t do it now, it would be tormenting you until next Monday. 

So, you asked her the same question you’d asked Josh.

“When should I tell Jake about the baby?”

She turned her shoulder, her eyes stern when she responded. “Soon. . . sooner rather than later. Just focus on what is real.”

Sooner rather than later. . . same exact words Josh had said.

-🌼🌼🌼-

It had been a long day of classes and the short shift at the Black and Gold after your classes had completely wiped you out. 

When you got home, all you’d wanted to do was take a nap to sleep off the exhaustion from the short day. Before pregnancy, you wouldn’t be hitting a wall so early in the day, but now that you were, you could hardly function after going nonstop for more than a few hours. 

Your body was functioning in overdrive, trying to produce enough energy to sustain two lives. . . and you were still getting used to it. Honestly, you weren’t sure you would ever get used to it.

But before your nap. . . you wanted to take some time to release some of the soreness in your changing body with a warm shower. You were sure to grab a towel from the dryer because, even though you knew Jake wasn’t supposed to be home for a few hours, you still didn’t want to risk him seeing you. The idea of him seeing any slight changes on your body made you cringe. You weren’t sure if you felt comfortable in your body yet, so you definitely didn’t want him seeing it. 

There was also the enormous, glaring factor of him seeing the changes and realizing what was going on. You really still just looked bloated (albeit very, very bloated). . . but you had a feeling that he would catch on. He’d gotten very used to what your body looked like for the better part of the summer, so you could see him noticing your stomach protruding more than it ever did before. 

He’d know. . . you just had a feeling.

After a day of trying to wear regular jeans, you’d decided it was a bad idea to wear your normal sized jeans anymore. The tight waistband had cut into your abdomen all day and squeezed you like a motherfucker. Thankfully, there’d been a lull in customers before the end of your shift, and the oversized sweater you’d worn had provided enough coverage for you to unbutton the jeans when you were alone in the store. 

But when you finally got to take them off, you breathed a sigh of relief to be out of the confines of the stiff clothing. And the big, fluffy sweater had gotten to be too warm by the end of your shift, so taking that off had also been extremely relieving as well. 

After you’d tied your hair back and heated the shower a little cooler than your usually steaming hot showers, you had to get used to the temperature as you stood and lathered up your belly, giving yourself your daily time to just observe how it was growing. Ever since your visit to the E.R., you’d become more conscientious of how it was growing.

You were new to this pregnancy thing. You didn’t know if it meant your baby was okay or not if your belly wasn’t growing at a certain rate.

To your utter relief, over the past few days, you had finally been able to eat more–following the lists of food Dr. Stevens had given you. You occasionally got nauseous, but the puking had limited significantly with the suggested bland, healthier foods and constant Ginger Ale (which you’d actually found much more delicious and helpful to your twisty stomach than Sprite). 

Then there were the Preggie Pops and the heaven-sent PregEase: both of which had been fucking life savers. (Both stayed safely locked away in your room, on a shelf in your closet, right next to where you’d pinned the sonogram pictures.)

Once you’d let the quick shower relax your muscles exactly like you’d needed, you took your time drying off. And once you’d washed your face and changed into bike shorts and a giant t-shirt, you weren’t so tired as before. So, you’d settled into the couch with your phone, a book, a fluffy blanket, and a delicious bowl of sweet red peppers and pretzels.

It had become a go-to snack as of late. 

You were looking forward to finishing the steamy romance that had popped up on your BookTok a few weeks back, but you wanted to look into BookTok reviews for the second book in the series before you finished the first. Just to prepare yourself. 

Though, when you opened your TikTok app, you didn’t look into the book. No, instead, you found your fingers searching ‘13 weeks pregnant’. You wanted to see how other women looked at this point in the game. You couldn’t help wanting to compare your progression to other women. It wasn’t a healthy course of action – you knew that. You just had to see. . . get an idea.

You saw a lot of videos of them talking about entering their second trimester. Which, like your Ovia app had already informed you today, you knew you had officially passed the first trimester. . . which was a massive thing to you. Passing the first trimester meant several exciting things. A few being: the chances of your baby surviving the pregnancy increased tenfold; the morning sickness started screeching to a halt (thank god); and you’d be able to find out the gender of your baby in a few short weeks.

Though, the other glaring thing at the front of your brain was how you needed to tell Jake. Because of the fact that you were already in your second trimester.

The main thing you were concerned about was staying healthy, though. . . you were really hoping you were doing okay at keeping yourself healthy; you needed your baby to be healthy. All of your numbers seemed to be getting back on the right track as you’d been tracking your hemoglobin for the past few days. It was all very comforting–-you felt better.

Just as you clicked on a video about symptoms at week 13, the front door opened to show Jake coming through. You quickly shut the app off and locked your phone, pretended to be reading as sweat accumulated in your arm and knee pits. (Lovely.) 

Though, you couldn’t help but turn your body to peek at him in his peacoat, with a scarf wrapped around his neck, and a beanie covering his ears. Much like he’d looked on the night of the macaroni and cheese and therapy talk. 

He had a little chill in his bones, it seemed, as he shook them out when taking off his coat and scarf. His hat was next, leaving his long hair staticky in its wake. He smoothed it back with one more chill before he was off to the counter, dropping off the mail and his keys. But he didn’t immediately go to his room. He went about opening a drawer, finding a pair of scissors and heading to the mail on the counter. 

You did notice a package now that you looked closer. And he was hurriedly going about cutting through the yellow protective packaging.

Out of nowhere, you decided to speak. No idea where it came from. Curiosity killed the cat was all you could come up with.

“Whatcha got there?” Whatcha got there? Okay, first of all, what the fuck?

He peered over at you, raising a brow before lifting the now-open package to display it to you. “New guitar part I ordered.”

“Oh,” you blinked, not sure what else you’d been expecting from him. Of course he wasn’t about to make pleasant conversation. Not when something had apparently climbed up his ass where you were concerned for the past several days. 

Once again, you were right back at square one at the most inopportune time. It made you question your idea to make him your go-to person for your expected night terrors. . . but you didn’t want to let go of the possibility yet. Not yet. 

“Have fun with that,” you offered, turning back around to the book you most definitely didn’t want to read at the present time. Instead, you took a nervous bite of a pepper. 

“Um, y/n,” he said your name with a question in his tone. “What the fuck is this?”

Your heart tripped over itself in your chest. What had he found? Without looking at him, you decided to just go ahead and get your ass off the couch to survey the situation. 

He was holding the box containing your heart monitor in his hands.

Fuck. You really didn’t want him to be privy to that part of your life. For whatever ridiculous reason, you were embarrassed by it. 

Deciding honesty was the best policy, you decided to just flat out tell him. “I went to the Emergency Room the other night,” you started. “And the doctor just wanted –.”

“The Emergency Room?!” His voice raised a decibel, obviously alarmed at the new information. “Wait . . . is that why Josh had to leave the bar–? The same night you were gone all night.”

“Wait. . .how do you know I was gone all night?”

“I live with you, y/n,” he scoffed, talking to you like you were an idiot. 

You felt your blood pressure rise, your heart beating in your ears. “Yes, Jake, I know this,” you matched his tone, the hormones working in your favor this time–making you angry rather than sad. “But why the fuck were you awake?”

“I was waiting for–,” he stopped, clearing his throat before starting over. He looked down, a crinkle in his brow. “I couldn’t sleep.”

He was waiting for. . . who? Waiting for. . . what? Your curiosity peaked, but you ignored it for the time being. 

“Well, not that you need to know, but yes. I was at the E.R. that night,” you explained. “Something happened that landed me there and it resulted in them wanting to track my heart activity. Nothing huge.”

And for once, you didn’t feel bad for lying to him. Your nerves were lit on fire with irritation towards him. 

He doesn’t need to know.

“You got a heart monitor in the mail,” he stated, not dropping the possible severity of the situation. "And you're saying it's nothing huge?"

Without a second thought, you were yanking the package from his hands. 

“It’s. not. your. business, Jacob,” you squeezed the package until the plastic wrap squeaked from the tight grip of your fingertips. Then, something else clicked. “Why the fuck were you not looking at the name on the package? Remember, like you said, you live with me. You know that not all of the shit that comes in the mail is yours.”

“I just wasn’t thinking–.”

“Kind of fucking invasive, Jake,” you interrupted hotly. “Don’t you think?”

“Well, it helped me to know something was wrong with your heart. You wouldn’t have told me if I hadn’t opened the package,” he argued back. 

“You didn’t need to know!” You said, your voice raising at the same speed as your blood pressure. “Still don’t!”

“But Josh sure as hell does, right?” He demanded, swinging his finger towards the door, his jaw clenching. “He needed to be your knight in shining fucking armor, huh?”

“Why the hell do you care?!” You fumed, the question exploding from your chest with the same emotion that had tears gathering in your eyes at the question. Angry tears. Confused tears. 

“I don’t!” He snapped, his beautiful, brown eyes, hard. His jaw, set and tight. 

His words sat in the air for a few minutes. Your stares were intertwined; swimming with tangled emotions. The air felt hot and heavy as it surrounded you. It was taut with newly spoken (and still unspoken) surmounting feelings and disequilibrium. Nostrils were flaring. Both of your chests heaved, the sound of his breathing mixed with yours in a way that made you want to slap and kiss his pursed lips.

You didn’t let yourself stand there much longer – needed to get away from him. Without speaking to him, you tore your eyes from his, gathered up your stuff from the couch, and tried to walk with as much dignity as you could to your room. 

Somehow, you were able to get the door open with your hands inexplicably full, and after you’d entered and before you could shut it behind you, you shot a glare his way. He was still watching you.

“Fuck you, Jake.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 17, 2022

The next night saw your ass in the shower again. 

Except this time, you were sitting in the tub, legs drawn to your chest as close as possible with your rounder tummy, and chin on your knees as you let the warm water soak you through. 

You’d already shaved and washed everything. So, now, you were just letting yourself be.

Your thoughts had been spinning since last night. So, in an effort to help your heart, you’d invited Josh over for a movie when Jake left to give lessons for the day. And, of course, he’d said yes without question. 

You’d spent the day drowning yourself in popcorn and Canada Dry (Josh surprised you with a new 12-pack when he’d arrived) as you’d watched all three Bridget Jones movies. Back to back to back. They weren’t Josh’s favorites, but he humored you by trying to indulge in the trilogy – even managing to laugh at the funny parts. 

Between movies, he’d let you cry on his shoulder. Or, intermittently, during the movies. . . By the time he’d left, your tears had positively stained the white long sleeve tee he was wearing. 

He didn’t ever ask what it was about – who it was about. And you never told him. But you knew he wasn’t oblivious to who caused your emotional episode.

Now he was gone. Had been for about an hour. And Jake wasn’t home yet. Not that you fucking cared. 

You’d meant it when you told him what you did. Fuck him.

Though, the devastating matter was that you couldn’t decide if you were more mad at yourself or him. Everyday was a replay of the day in the kitchen. And you were sure he replayed it everyday, too. . . and he was definitely allowed to feel hurt after the horrendous shit you’d thrown at him.

But what was with the back and forth? Hot and cold? How he’d been okay the night with the mac and cheese? How he’d spent his time researching therapy for you to try? How he’d been quick to defend your song to his girlfriend? 

And, just as quickly, he was snapping at you. Getting upset out of nowhere. Instantly angry with you when you’d come out of the bathroom at the bar. Getting pissed for no reason at you and Josh for sitting in the car. Telling you last night that he didn’t care about you. 

Was that true? Did he not? It fucking killed you if it was true. But you couldn’t blame him if he didn’t care. Why would he?

You took the moment to stretch your legs out in the shower, watching as the water painted your skin with droplet after droplet. Then, you looked down at your tummy, extra round after a day of pigging out. 

Placing a pruned hand on it, you looked down at the part of your body that housed your human. Surprisingly (not), tears clouded your voice as you spoke to it, rubbing the skin reassuringly. “I’m so sorry that your mommy and daddy are so fucked up.”

After letting a few tears fall to meet the tight, rounded skin of your tummy, you forced your legs to stand up. The feat was proven a little difficult as they’d fallen asleep, but you still managed. Regretfully, you’d turned the water off. You didn’t want to leave the shower but you were officially prune-y as hell.

And, as you gathered a towel to wrap up in, you realized you were also very fucking tired.

You carefully attached the heart monitor’s adhesive to your chest like the instruction manual (and multiple videos you’d watched) told you to, and followed it with the monitor itself. You then checked to make sure the phone you’d been given with the kit was ready to track what it needed.

Finding your phone on the counter after you’d washed your face and brushed your teeth, you decided Josh deserved a thank you after putting up with you the last several days.

Especially after you’d just rocked his motherfucking world . . . and he’d been so cool about it.

God, you just loved him.

You, 10:17 p.m.: I’m so glad I have you. I mean it from the bottom of my heart that I wouldn’t make it through this pregnancy without you. And your love and amazing fucking support. I’d be lost without you.

And after you sent it, you began towel drying your hair, then brushed through any tangles the best you could. 

When you heard a ding! sound from the living room, you spent a few minutes thinking it was your imagination. But when you heard it a second time, you realized it was most likely not in your head, and that Jake was home. 

So, checking your appearance once more, you wrapped the towel as tight as you could around your body before shutting the light off and opening the door. 

You glanced up to see if he was in fact home, and the sight that met you had you stop in your tracks. 

Josh’s white phone case with the little triangle symbol he’d drawn on it one day at the B&G. 

In Jake’s hands. 

Jake’s face, looking at the screen of said phone, mouth open in shock.

And as soon as you closed the door to the bathroom, the smallest sound of it shutting, made his eyes slowly slide up from the phone to your face.

He held the phone up, showing you just what he’d seen. Fuck. 

“You’re pregnant?”

You took a careful step forward, the blood in your veins frazzled and vibrating. Deny deny deny. As long as you can, y/n. “What gives you the right to be in Josh’s phone? Your invasiveness really knows no fucking bounds these days,” you clipped, voice shaking in spite of yourself.

He blinked a couple of times, a smile forming on his mouth. A wide, sarcastic one, which turned into an astounded scoff. “Really? That’s what we’re going to focus on right no–?” He shook his head, clicking the phone shut before taking a few cautious steps towards you. “His face I.D.; it opens to me. I’m his fucking identical twin.”

“Prove it,” you challenged. 

“Was already planning on it,” he snipped. And right in your line of sight, he opened the phone, putting his face in front of it. Then, it was turned to show you. The same tantalizing screen as before. “Proven.”

“Well. . .,” you faltered, scrambling. “Why did you have it?”

“It was laying on the counter. I went to grab it and my keys,” he jingled the keys in his other hand. “I was going to take it to him,” he explained, sounding exasperated and patient all at once. An anomaly. “But when I picked it up, I looked down, and it opened.”

He took two steps back, once again, holding the phone up to show you the text screen. The gray bubble had never looked so horrifying as it did in that moment. The sweat accumulating on your forehead proved your entire skin care routine pointless. You were shaking. Your skin felt like it was going to fall off from the vibrations taking over underneath it.

“Now,” he started slowly. “Will you answer my question, please?” 

His voice broke on the last word and it triggered a single tear to trickle down your cheek. 

“Yes, I am.”

“Whose?”

“Really, Jake?” You questioned, the question making your heart break. How could he–? 

His eyes went soft momentarily, pleading with you. “I just need to hear you say it, y/n.”

“It’s yours, Jake. The baby is yours. Who the fuck else?”

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: this monstrous chapter was a fucking doozy and you already know i wanna talk about it!! come to my asks and we shall chat <333

oh, but i'm just wondering........ what do you think reader's safe place will be? ;) a place? a person? both? hmmm....

ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts! love youuuu <3

& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)

Taglist: @joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssoloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend, @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98

(and, due to t*mblr’s shitass guidelines, i will be adding the other tags in a reblog of the story!)

[holylulusworld]

Designed by pain (7)

Summary: Broken hearts are hard to put back together. 8 years ago, Dean lost something he didn’t even know he had in the first place. Will he get a second chance?

Pairing: former AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, past break-up, arguments, daddy Dean

A/N: This was an alternative idea for the first chapter of my Bucky story: Monster-in-law masterlist. I decided to use it for a story with Dean.

Designed by pain masterlist

Designed by pain (6)

“Dean, a word,“ you square your jaw watching your son show Dean all the cars on his shelves. Dean doesn’t hear you, engrossed in listening to his son’s explanations. “DEAN!”

“Mommy, we are busy here. We are talking about manly cars,” your son huffs and turns his attention toward the stranger he let inside your house.

“Bud, you shouldn’t talk like that to your mom,” Dean sternly says. “We can talk about your cars later.”

“Promised?” Your son sniffles when Dean turns around to walk out of his room.

“Promised, bud,” Dean looks over his shoulder and nods. “We will talk about your cars as long as you want to.”

“COOL!” Your son clasps his hands together and grins. “You’re so cool, Mr. Dean!”

Dean chuckles, and you get even madder. How dare he come here and play the cool guy. Of course, your son is all over Dean. He has no clue that the very same man left you and his son when things got complicated.

“There you are,” Sam joins you and Dean. He still holds the toad in his hands, helplessly lifting the poor thing. “What do we do with that toad now?”

“TOADIE!” Your son shoves you out of his way to snatch the toad out of Sam’s hands, but Sam lifts the toad so Michael can't reach it. “I’ll show you my room now.”

“Great,” you glare at Sam. “Why didn’t you put it in the garden, Samuel Winchester? Now I’ll never get rid of that thing!” You jerk your head toward Dean. “And there is the toad.”

Sam snorts. “I can bring the toad in the garden. My brother is another story,” he sighs deeply. “Again. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“HEY! Sasquatch,” your son grunts and tugs at Sam’s jacket, “give me back my toad. Toadie is my friend, and you can’t have him.” Michael purses his lips and holds out his hand. “Give him back!”

“Michael, stop that,” you tut. “We don’t yell at guests. Sam will bring the toad back into the garden. Toadie wants to go home. Our home isn’t their home.”

Your son pouts. His lips wobble, and he sniffles silently. “I wanna keep Toadie!” He grasps Dean’s hand, tugging lightly. “Mr. Dean, please tell Mommy that a man must have a toad. All the cool guys have toads.”

Dean looks at your son holding his hand. A smile crosses his face, and he holds his hand a little tighter. “Sammy will bring the toad to the garden. If Toadie wants to stay, he’ll wait for you in the garden. But maybe he’s got a family and wants to go home.”

“You think so?” Michael sniffs. He wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and sniffles. “But…I’ll miss him. He’s my friend.”

“He’ll always be your friend, bud,” Dean crouches down in front of your son. “Sometimes we must let people go, even if we love them very much. And sometimes, people we love leave us.”

“O-kay,” your son nods and gives Dean a cracked smile. “Maybe he comes back to me. OH!” He gasps loudly. “What if he brings his family too?”

“No way,” you shudder at the thought of the toad coming back with the whole family. “Toadie will go back home and be a good toad.”

“How about I show you pictures of my Baby? I got them on my phone,” before you can take his son away from him, Dean wants to make sure to get to know the little boy better. 

“He’s got thousands of pictures of his car,” Sam snickers behind his brother’s back. “You’ll get tired looking at all of them.”

“YES!” Michael grins. “I love cars, mister. I bet Mr. Dean has the coolest pictures of the coolest car in the world.”

You purse your lips and clench your fists. Dean already snaked his way into your son’s heart, and you don’t know how to undo the damage he did within not half an hour.

While Michael guides his father out of his room, you stare at the toad in Sam’s hands. You’re unsure what to do now that Dean came here to get to know his son.

“I should bring the toad out, and … uh… maybe I can distract Michael so you can talk to Dean. I know you’re mad at my brother, but please at least talk things out. If you need a clean cut, do it. I’ll bring him back home and make sure he’ll leave you alone.”

“He broke my heart,” you don’t look at Sam. “Not only because he didn’t contact me or stopped me from leaving. He flirted with that woman, and let your mother walk all over me. We were so in love with each other and suddenly everything was different.”

You sniff and wipe your eyes. “I only thought about the life growing inside of me. The baby he didn’t know about. The whole day I tried to find the perfect moment to tell him. It never came, though…”

“I know this doesn’t mean anything to you,” Sam softly says, “but Dean never was happier than with you. After you left, he wasn’t the same. He had some affairs, but I think he was never in love with any of the women he dated. Dean only ever loved you.”

“Sure,” you snort. “He loved me so much that he left me…”

You storm out of the room, determined to get Dean out of your house. Even if it means making a scene in front of your son.

“You!” You stop in your tracks when you see Dean and your son on the couch. Your son is looking at pictures on Dean’s phone, grinning from ear to ear.

“MOMMY! There are pictures with you in Mr. Dean’s car,” Michael runs toward you, Dean’s phone in his hands. “You look so cool.” 

He grins and shows you the image on Dean’s phone. You’re sitting on the hood of his car, winking at Dean. It’s one of the last pictures Dean took of you.

“Uh…that was a long time ago, baby boy. Mr. Dean and his brother want to go now. It’s almost dinner time, and you still need to bathe and brush your teeth after dinner.”

“Mr. Dean must stay!” Michael purses his lips. “I want him to stay in our guest room and we can eat pizza and pie.”

“Michael, I—” you swallow thickly when your son starts to sniffle. It breaks your heart watching him bond with the man breaking your heart. 

“Pizza and pie. Pizza and pie,” your son chants. “Please, mommy. He’s cool and nice. Mr. Dean wants to show me more pictures of his car, and you!”

“What…no…he can’t…” Your voice cracks. “What about his brother? We can’t send his brother Sam away.”

“Hmm…” Your son nods thoughtfully. “Mr. Dean can sleep in your room, and his brother at the guest room.” Michael grins. “Right? You got a big bed all for yourself.”

“I can sleep on the couch,” Sam hastily says. “Or maybe…uh…there is a hotel nearby. I can get me and Dean a room. We can leave after dinner.”

“I can stay for dinner,” Dean finally says. “But you can’t ask your mom to share her bed with me, okay.”

“But…” Michael sniffles. “You will come back tomorrow for breakfast. Right? We can make pancakes and … oh! You must try mommy’s pancakes. You’ll marry her if you taste them!”

Your son’s words hit you right in the chest. Daggers sent to your fragile heart. If only… you think while your son plans a wedding and to keep Dean around.

“I’ll call a hotel and,” Sam gives you an apologetic smile and pats your shoulder, “I promise to get him out of your house. At least for tonight…”

Part 8

Tags in reblog.

[oda-cipresi]

For the first time in a long time, I decided to write something again. I apologize for any typos and grammar mistakes, but English is not my first language. I hope you guys like it! (also the ending is kinda rushed so I do apologise for that)

Any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated🫶

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: I dont think there are any. Maybe bruises?

____________________________________________________

RZ!Michael Myers x GN!Reader

If somebody had told me that I'd be getting my working experience as a psychology student in Smith's Grove, under Dr. Samuel Loomis' wing, I would laugh at their face. But here I am, standing with Loomis in front of 6'9 mountian of man whose face is covered by an orange mask, not knowing whether I'm petrified or amazed by his sheer size.

"Mx. (L/N), this is Michael. You will be helping me around with him and take notes while doing so. This will be a great working experience, and I'm sure you will have little to no problem, considering your school did praise you and your knowledge." Loomis tells me. I can only nod, still in shock.

"Right..." I say in an unsure voice.

"Michael, this is (y/n) (l/n), a psychology student from (school). They will be here for some time to get their working experience." Loomis introduces me to Michael. Give a small wave and a smile. Michael stays silent, observing my every move, his stare feeling like he is looking at the deepest, darkest parts of my soul.

I shift from one leg to another, feeling uncomfortable under his gaze. I glance at Loomis, "is he always staring so much?" I ask him, worried if there is something wrong, but he then reassures me that this is normal for his behaviour, especially with new people. I can only nod in response.

"This is a copy of his files and your schedule. You can go to the back where you can leave your stuff in a locker and meet me here in... let's say 15 minutes, okay?" Loomis explains to me and hands me a binder with Michael's files and my schedule. I nod and go to the lockers to leave my coat and other things that I won't need there.

Once I return, I gently knock on the door and enter. "Ah, (y/n), please take a seat here," Loomis tells me and points to the chair that is on the side of the table. I sit down, put my notes on the table, and start listening to their conversation (although it is pretty much one-sided), taking notes on Michael's body language and the questions Loomis asks him.

I take notes while observing the ever so stoic Michael Myers. The only part of him that moved was when he occasionally tilted his head while he was looking at me. As I took notes and the doctor continued to try to talk to Michael, I was startled when Michael slowly reached out his arm, his fingertips just gently touching my shoulder. I freeze and look at Loomis, panicking internally.

"Just stay calm, (y/n)," Loomis said while keeping an eye on Michael. I know that he couldn't do anything to me since he was still chained to the chair, but the unsettling feeling was still there.

Michael was still touching my shoulder and the material of my shirt. He looked like a curious child.

Loomis was calm and collected while I was panicking silently. Michael's hand slowly slid from my shoulder to my forearm, where he pulled on the sleeve and slowly pulled my arm closer to him. He observed my hand and arm, looking at every spot, every line, every scar, the way my jewellery decorated my wrist and fingers.

The doctor still looked calm and with a slight hit if worry in gus eyes. Michael was still studying my hand, looking at it closely. A chill ran down my spine.

Dr. Loomis suddenly chuckled softly, "He seems to like your hand," I look at him, "Really? What gave you that impression?" I say, slightly irritated that he isn't helping me. Michael's grip then tightens, and it's starting to hurt. I try to pull away, but his grip is too strong on my arm. "A little help here, maybe?" Loomis only chuckles and tells me to stay calm. "This is the first time in 15 years I ever saw Michael be this interested in someone this much."

Michael's grip is starting to hurt more and more. as his grip on my hand thightens, He is still looking at my hand up close, studying the patterns and imperfections. The pain is significantly increasing, and i feel like he is about to break my bone. Loomis finally decided to step in, "Michael, let go off of their arm," Michael doesn't listen to him and squeezes even more. I decided to hit the table with my other hand, which startled Michael and made him let go off of my arm, which gave me the chance to move my chair further away from him.

Dr. Loomis suddenly laughed loudly, his calm demeanour completely changing, "There we go! That's the reaction I wanted! He actually reacted to what you did!" I look at loomis and then at Michael, who was staring ahead, seemingly frozen. I then look at his arms, which are resting on the table, his muscles slightly twitching.

His body was responding in anger to the fact that I hit the table and made a loud noise. His eyes were filled with anger and some sort of...disappointment?

I looked at my arm and noticed a big bruise forming where he had squeezed my arm.

Loomis then looks at his watch and notices that it's already 17:45, "I think that would be enough for today... (y/n), dearie, could you grab me his harness(?) and help me put it on him and take him to his room?" I only nod and help him put the harness on Michael. I cuffed his wrists and fastened the harness while Loomis cuffed his ankles. While I was cuffing his wrists, Michael made a grunting sound of displeasure, still angy at my actions. I flinch at the sound and look at him, his piercing blue eyes burning into my soul.

Once Loomis and I put the harness on Michael, we took him to his room. He was walking very slowly, stumbling slightly once in a while due to the chains around his ankles. While we were walking, Michael still had his glare set on me, looking at my every move. We finally got to his cell and took off the harness. I looked around his room and saw masks upon masks filling uo the walls and table. I go to pick one up, but Loomis stops me, saying that he doesn't like it when people touch them. Me and Loomis then walk out of his cell and lock it behind us. Michael was standing directly in front of the door, glaring at me through the tiny window thats on them. I can feel a shiver going through my body, and I finally walk away, feeling confused about this whole situation.

[alexsnerdycorner]

Carry On my Wayward Daughter Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Madeline is up!

Reminder that the first two chapters deal with rape and the aftermath of rape. If you are uncomfortable with this, you do not need to read them to understand the story.

[gretavangroupie]

Drift

Word count: 7.2k+

Pairing: Josh x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut, Fluff.

 “Two percent?!” you screech.

Looking down at the cellphone in your lap as you follow the winding directions you see the red battery icon and your anxiety starts to bloom. Your signal has been spotty at best and the constant in and out of service has drained your battery quicker than anticipated. With another hour to go you are starting to panic. Of course your phone would die while you are somewhere in the mountains. 

It started snowing last night, and unfortunately has stuck around. So when the snow didn’t stop this morning you knew you would be in for an eventful drive home. Six inches turned into ten very quickly, and the roads were becoming slick. Your little sedan was not equipped for this type of weather, something you were pretty sure you wouldn't experience in Nashville but boy were you wrong.  

The two lane road you found yourself upon currently was slightly off the beaten path, on the side of a mountain. Houses sprinkled in here and there, with their long winding driveways, painted white in a wintery scene. In different circumstances you would think it was quite beautiful, but right now, your white knuckle grip on the steering wheel has made you feel differently. Your windshield wipers are going full blast, further obscuring your view of the winding back road. You glance down to your phone to check the directions.

Four miles until you turn right.

As you read the directions out, you're met with a loud thump as your car moves 60 miles per hour over a perfectly placed pot hole, jostling you, your car and its contents.

“Shit!” you cry out as your head bounced back on the headrest.

Reaching down to pick your phone up off the floor, you type in your password and unlock it. But that was all it took. That measly 1% was gone in an instant. Panic swept over you, all you knew was that you had 4, maybe 3 miles now until you turn right. But what about the rest of the directions?

Okay, next shopping center I see, I will stop and grab a car charger. 

The snow is falling quickly, and the sun is setting, leaving you to only rely on the light from your hi beams. You swallow thickly as you squint to see the lines on the road. You haven’t seen a car pass you in what feels like forever. 

I knew it was a bad idea to get off the interstate.

You saw it, but it was too late. You couldn't react in time. If you slammed on your breaks your car would go sliding into the ravine. So you hit it. Whatever it was. It looked like a crow bar or some type of bent metal. That's what it sounded like too. As your car met with the object you heard a loud popping and you knew your night just got ten times worse. Your car began to limp further down the road with a metallic clatter against the wet asphalt.

You see a driveway in the distance and decide to push forward to pull into it, against your better judgment. As you pull off into the entry of the long driveway you put your car in park and immediately get out and see that your front left tire is completely blown out. The combination of the pothole earlier, and whatever that metal thing was, has left you stranded in the drift of someone's driveway. 

You get back into your car and grab your phone, realizing that it died 15 minutes ago. As you sit back into the seat you rub your hands over your face and wonder what you did to deserve this. You turn on your hazard lights and pray that someone drives by and stops. But you know the likelihood of that happening is slim. Anyone with half a brain knows better than to drive in conditions like this. 

As you wrack your brain for what to do, it occurs to you. 

Maybe, there is someone in the house at the end of this driveway…

You know that this area that you are in is home to most peoples vacation homes, tucked deep into the side of the mountain. The chances of someone being here are small, but not zero. You grab your coat out of the backseat and put it on. From the looks of it, this driveway is fairly long and the snow is piled high and growing by the minute.

Turning off your car, you grab your dead cell phone, and your keys and get out. Now that the sun had set it was dark, and the wind was cutting like a thousand knives. You lock your useless car and shove your keys into your coat pocket. You pull your hood over your head and thank yourself for choosing a pair of sensible boots this morning. 

As you walk the long snowy, gravel lined driveway you think to yourself that it must be a mile long, and uphill at that. Just as you think it could stretch on for another mile, you see a soft yellow light ahead of you. A light is on in the house. 

Oh my god, someone is here.

Knowing that the house more than likely is warm, has your feet picking up their pace and landing you at the edge of the trees, opening up to the clearing where the occupied house sits. There is one car parked outside of the house and you can hear the soft vibrations of noise from inside. The house is large, old, and wooden. You can see that there are two stories and the ivy growing on the side of the house gives it a certain type of rustic charm you don't see too often anymore. There is smoke filling the air, coming from a chimney, and huge glass windows adorn the entire front of the house.  

As you step up to the porch you brush the snow off of your coat and hood, pulling your frozen hand out of your pocket and nervously knocking on the black wooden front door.  

The large glass window set into the door has you holding your breath as you see a figure approaching from across the house. Pulling a hoodie over their torso, they peer through the glass to see you standing there and run their hand over their face, as the door opens.

“How did you get this address?” he says. 

You nervously stare back at him, “I– I didn’t…my car –I hit something. My phone is dead– I…” you stammer.

“You hit something?!” he asks, shocked.

“Yeah, it was dark, and the snow – I couldn't see. I think it was a crowbar or something.” you reply anxiously.

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking concerned.  

“Yeah, I am okay. I am so sorry to bother you. My front tire blew out and my phone is dead so I can’t call Triple A…Do you think I could borrow your phone or, could you call, or…” you stammer.

“Yes, absolutely, come in. It’s freezing.” he says, opening the door. You can feel the warmth radiating from inside and graciously step into the house.

“Do you have your phone? I can plug it in?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah!” you say fumbling into your coat pocket and handing him the freezing device. 

“My god, your hands are freezing! Here, come sit here by the fire.” he says, leading you from the front door, and into the open, spacious living room. He points to the couch next to the fireplace and says he will be right back. He runs up the wooden staircase and you can hear some banging around upstairs before you see him quickly flying back down the stairs, waving a phone charger in his hand. 

You look around the house, and are intrigued by the charm of the renovated old home. The cobblestone fireplace, the wooden beams adorning nearly every inch of the walls and ceiling. It’s a split level home but it has an open floor plan, granting you visual access to almost every part of the house. Small sets of stairs lead to various rooms and loft areas. It’s a very uniquely designed floor plan, and you are interested in the history of the home. Admiring its charming old quality, your eyes flit around but stop when you see the massive windows. You are instantly taken with the wall of windows providing a picturesque view of the snowy scene outside. It’s very charming and you find yourself relaxing into the cozy couch by the fireplace, staring into the snowy sight. 

“Better?” he asks, walking down the steps into the living room, before sitting in a chair across from you. 

Realizing how you must look, you shoot straight up and fix your posture. “Oh, yeah. Yes. Thank you. This is a really cool home.” you say nervously fidgeting with your coat. 

“Oh, thank you, I moved in about two years ago now. Still fixing things up here and there. Trying to bring it up to date without losing its rustic qualities.” he smiles. “I’m Josh by the way.”

“Oh, god, how rude I didn't even ask your name before I made myself at home on your couch.” you laugh. You introduce yourself and shake his hand, which is much warmer than yours and oddly soft. The room is dimly lit by the floor lamp in the corner and the small fixtures illuminating the bookcase in the upstairs loft. The fireplace is glowing brightly behind you. You can see the flames dancing along rhythmically in his eyes. Honey brown and glossy, he must have been drinking before you interrupted his night. 

“When my phone turns on, I will call Triple A and I’ll be out of your hair in no time.” you say biting your lip.

“What in the world are you doing driving in this weather?” he asks.

“I was driving back home. I went to visit my parents for the week. The traffic on 40 was so bad, I decided to take a back road thinking it would be faster, but then I got lost and my phone was dying, then this happened... It was not a good choice in hindsight.” you laugh. 

“You’re brave. I’m from Michigan and even I wouldn’t be driving right now.” he smiles, his cheeks scrunching tightly beneath his eyes.

He is sort of…cute. Maybe in different circumstances…

“I know, it’s not too much farther…I think? I feel really bad that I interrupted your night.” you say pointing to the movie that is paused on the TV screen.

“Ahh, don’t worry about it. I’ve seen it a thousand times.” he says, waving his hand in the air.

You focus on it, and recognize the character on the screen. “Is– Is it A Clockwork Orange?” you ask, suspiciously.

He seems taken aback as he replies, “Yeah. Yeah it is…” a twinkle of intrigue in his eyes.

“Cool, that's a great film.” you say, politely.

A small smile forms at the side of his mouth, “Yeah, it really is...” he looks like he wants to say more, but stops himself.

Why do I feel like I am supposed to be here?

“Well, I should go see if my phone is turned on. I have bothered you long enough.” you say standing up, and walking up the small set of stairs into the kitchen. 

“It’s on the kitchen counter by the fridge.” he calls out to you.

As you grab your phone you see it has come back to life, and you quickly dial out the number for Triple A. You lean over onto the counter as the call rings out. You stare out the windows at the snow still continuing to fall and explain to the man on the phone exactly what happened.

“What do you mean…But I don’t…. I can’t get anywhere…. Okay. Alright. Yeah, thank you.” you end the call staring at the screen dumbfounded. 

As you stand there silently trying to figure out your next move you see Josh walk into the kitchen to join you at the counter. He leans his hip onto the countertop, facing you.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, his curly brown hair falling onto his forehead. 

You turn to face him and with a blank face you set your phone back on the counter. “No. Apparently they can’t send any trucks out until the morning after they plow the roads. The snow is too bad on the mountain?” you question.

He shakes his head, “Yeah, I was afraid of that. Listen, I don’t want to sound forward but, you are welcome to stay here until the morning. I have a guest room, and anything you might need.” he says kindly.

“Oh wow, that is so nice of you to offer, but I really feel like I am intruding. I mean, you don’t even know me.” you say. 

“The alternative is what? You sleeping in your freezing cold car? No. I know we don’t know each other, but I am a human being and from one human being to another, please. Stay. You can leave as soon as you’d like in the morning. They should have the roads plowed by 7:00.” he says, scratching the back of his neck. 

You stop for a second to think, but something is pulling you to stay. 

“Are you positive that I am in no way putting you out?” you ask, hesitantly.

“Absolutely not. Glad to lend a helping hand. I mean, you must be alright if you knew I was watching A Clockwork Orange.” he smiles.

You nod your head, agreeing and his face lights up with a smile.

“Should we… finish it?” he asks. You bite your lip and stare at him. You know his brown puppy dog eyes have never been rejected in his life. You can feel it.

“Okay, I guess we could. But can I use the bathroom first?” you ask.

“Oh, of course. If you step through that guest room, it’s in there.” he says pointing across the kitchen. 

“Thank you.” you say nervously.

As you make your way into the bathroom, you quickly relieve yourself and wash your hands, noticing the eclectic artwork hanging on the walls in the bedroom. He has very interesting taste in furniture and decor, but it kind of fits the feel of the house perfectly.  As you make your way back into the living room you step down into the warm space, and see Josh waiting for your return sitting on one side of the couch with his feet crossed on the coffee table. 

“All good?” he asks, he has noticed you have removed your coat and grants you a smile.

“Yeah, thanks. I am sure you didn’t see your night going this way.” you laugh as you sit down on the opposite side of the couch. But you feel it. A magnetism to be closer to him. 

What? You don't even know him…

“You’re right I didn’t but I’m kinda glad it did.” he smirks with sultry eyes.

Maybe he feels it too…

You feel your cheeks blush as he unpauses the movie, and it roars back to life. 

You spend the next hour talking instead of watching the movie, discussing the theories surrounding it and even further discussing Stanley Kubrick. You have a lot of the same opinions on his work and career. Josh is super knowledgeable about film making and even tells you how it was always his dream to be a filmmaker himself. Your heart warms at the fact that he is passionate enough to tell a complete stranger about his dreams.

You talk until the fire in the fireplace dies down and you find yourselves sitting in a dark living room, lit only by the small lamps on the book case. 

He looks over at you and stares for a second, “Let me go grab you some clothes for you to sleep in, I'll be right back.” 

“Oh, that's not necessary, I will be okay, really. I can just sleep in this.” you reply.

“Please, I insist.” he says standing and walking up the stairs, his bare feet padding up the wooden steps. 

You stand awkwardly in the living room, waiting for him to return. You walk over to the windows and stare out at the snow, still falling. You walk back into the living room, and notice the bookcase on the second floor loft. You look around to see if Josh is coming back and when you see that he isn't, you make your way up the stairs and over to the full book shelves. 

Browsing the titles you see a lot of classics. You run your index finger over the spines, stopping on names you recognize. The leather bound books are beautifully displayed and lit with tiny sconces on the front of the shelves. Bending down to look at the next row of books, you are surprised when you notice Josh standing next to you.

“Well, what do you think? Any good ones?” he laughs.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn't mean to pry. Well, actually. Maybe I did.” you smile. “But yeah, all the classics, you are well read.”

“I spend a lot of time traveling, and books are a great way to pass the time. I pull a lot of inspiration from these old books.” he says. He reaches a stack of clothes out to you and your hands brush his. You both recoil and look at each other like you have been zapped by lightning.

Surely he felt that?

You grab the stack from him, and look down. “Thank you.”

He bites his cheek like he wants to say something, but again, doesn’t.

“Come on, I will show you the guest room and get you some blankets.” he says, gesturing for you to follow him.

After a few minutes he has retrieved a few blankets for you and provided you with an extra phone charger, handing them to you with a soft smile. In the dim lighting you can see the dimple that forms in his cheek, perfectly situated above a tiny scar.

“I will turn the heat on a little warmer, sometimes it gets cold because of the windows. If you need me, I’m at the top of the stairs to the left.” he smiles, and shuts the door behind him.

You sit on the bed examining the pile of clothes he has so graciously brought you. A long sleeve white tee shirt and a pair of well loved sweatpants. You peel your clothes off of you, and slide into the much comfier attire. Maybe he was right, this will be warmer.

You plug your phone into the charger and spread the extra blanket over the twin size bed. You flip the switch on the wall and climb into the bed. You lay there hearing the wind whip against the old house. You think about your evening and how it went so completely different than you imagined. You are sleeping in a stranger's bed? The room is quiet except for the sound of the snow falling on the windows. You drift off to sleep and think of the beautiful curly haired man sleeping right above you. 

You wake yourself up shivering. Your eyes open and you're met with total darkness. The light from the alarm clock long gone, the air growing colder by the second. The distant whirr of the refrigerator reduced to nothing. The power must have gone out. Your feet are frozen, hands too. Trying to pull the blankets closer to yourself you realize they are already as close as they could be. Your body shivers under the sheets. If only you had some socks you could make it through until morning. 

You lay there for a few minutes trying to rub your feet together to create some warmth, but nothing was working. Your brain remembers the fire in the living room. It had been a few hours since it had gone out, but surely the hearth was still warm. You grab your phone, and turn on the flashlight, illuminating the floor below you. You quietly twist the door knob on the old door, and tiptoe through the hallway into the kitchen. Looking around, you see that the power is definitely out. Walking quietly down the small set of steps you find a place on the hearth of the fireplace, only to find that it too, has grown cold.

Rubbing your freezing cold hands together you think back to what Josh told you. ‘If you need anything, I’m up the stairs to the left.’ You think about going up there to ask for socks but quickly talk yourself out of it. As you look out the large windows it seems the snow has finally stopped falling, but it has accumulated quite a few inches. More than likely making the power fail. 

You scroll through your phone on the couch, but your service is weak. You can't get anything to load. Tiredness begins to creep in on you as the stinging stiffness in your hands and feel remind you of their temperature. 

Okay, just do it. Just go ask for some socks. Tell him the power is out. He will understand. 

Setting your phone on the coffee table you swallow deeply and quietly make your way up to cold wooden stairs. When you reach the landing you turn to his door, which isn’t a door at all. There is no door, it’s just an open archway. The sight in front of you nearly takes your breath away. He has a fireplace up here, and it is still glowing with embers. Your legs carry you over to it where you place your hands and are greeted with the feeling of warmth. 

Inadvertently you release a sigh as you feel your extremities warming. You hear the bed rustle behind you and you flip around, not even fully realizing that you are standing in this mans bedroom. He leans up on his arm, and you can see his eyes slowly opening as he sees you standing in front of his bed. 

“Is everything okay?” he asks, his voice light and groggy. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just– the power went out, and I was so cold I was just going to come ask you for some socks…” you stammer. “But then I saw the fireplace from the doorway, and my legs carried me here. I thought maybe if I could just warm my hands and feet I would be okay.”

He peels the blanket off of himself and stands up pushing his hair out of his face. His body clad in only his black boxer briefs, showcases his chiseled torso, glowing in the fireplace embers. You have to peel your eyes off of him as he walks across the room. 

He returns a minute later with a pair of wool camping socks, “For your feet.” he says, handing you the socks. You reach out to grab them and his hand brushes yours sending that same electricity through your system.

“My god, you are freezing!” he says. How long have you been awake and cold?” 

Bending down to pull the socks over your feet you answer, “I’m not sure, maybe twenty minutes?” 

“Why didn’t you come up here sooner?” he asks, grabbing your cold hands in his warm ones, rubbing them together to attempt to warm them. 

“Well, you were already nice enough to let me stay here, I didn't want to wake you up too.” you say bashfully. Your eyes travel down his body and back up. “Aren’t you… cold?” you ask.

“No, I’m a warm sleeper.” he answers.

“Ah, that sounds nice.” slips from your mouth before you even can register what you’ve said.

You clamp your hand over your mouth in regret and he smiles, a giggle almost leaving his chest.

“You know, I figured I would lose power. I’m not surprised. How about this… why don’t you stay up here? I will throw another log on, and we can both be warm.” he says, with innocent eyes. 

Your eyes travel to the bed behind him, plush with white fluffy duvets and blankets. 

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as he goes to speak again, “It’s a big bed. We won’t even touch. I just won’t be able to sleep if I know you’re down there shivering.”

He bends over and tosses another log onto the embers, poking it with the fire poker until it lights. Feeling the warmth on your back, you look back to him. “Okay, but only because I am freezing.”

“I know. I’ll get you warm, don’t worry.” he smiles. 

He walks over to the other side of his bed, pulling back the blankets and gesturing for you to slide in. He pulls the thick blankets over you and nods his head as he tucks you in.

Wow. 

You can’t even think of a time when someone took care of you like this. It’s kind of sweet.

He walks back to the fireplace and prods the log making sure it won’t roll off, and closes the mesh divider. 

He makes his way back to the bed, returning to the warm spot he left only minutes ago, sighing in relief as warmth washes over him as he pulls the duvet back over his now slightly chilled body. 

He rolls to face you, though you are on your back, eyes cast to the ceiling. You can feel his eyes staring into the side of your head, so you turn your head to look at him. The room is dark, the only light coming from the small flames in front of the bed. The orange hues dance across his cheeks, highlighting his cheekbones, and producing a sparkle in his tired eyes. 

“Do you feel it?” he whispers.

You feel your heart leap in your chest as your breath catches in your throat, “What?” you ask, nervously.

“The fire, do you feel it?” he asks.

God…

“Oh, yeah, I do. Thank you… for letting me stay up here. This is beyond…hospitable.” you reply, turning your body to face him in the bed. 

“Are you warming up?” he asks, the log crackling in the fireplace. 

“Yes, I’m starting to. I think it will take longer for my hands and feet.” you giggle.

“Here,” he says, reaching across, grabbing your hands and clasping them tightly between his. “Mine are plenty warm.”

You feel the electricity traveling through your body, and from the look on his face, he feels it too. A light hum leaves your chest as the warmth of his hands works quickly to heat your own.

“Does that feel good?” he asks, you are positive that he can see the pink blush creeping across your cheeks as you stifle a nervous smile.

“Yeah, it does. You’re lucky you’re so hot.” the words falling from your lips before you can stop them, something that seems to be happening far too often. 

A smirk flashes across his face as you stumble trying to correct yourself. “Warm, I meant warm. Not hot. I’m sorry... But, not that you aren’t hot, you are. Really. But–I meant…I’m not making this better am I...” you sigh.

“No, you know what? I think it’s perfect.” he says, his hand gripping yours, thumbs gently exploring the valleys and peaks of your knuckles.

“You do?” you ask quietly.

“Mhmm…” he hums. The rumble from his chest sends a shiver through your body.

You can feel your body temperature rising, but it isn’t from the fire. Josh’s hand releases yours and your eyes flick down as he pulls them away. He notices your furrowed brow and looks up at you.

“I told you we don’t have to touch.” he smirks, rolling to his back, positioning his hands behind his head. You roll back to your back, mimicking his actions. 

You both lay there in silence for a few minutes. You can hear the wind whipping against the windows, the thought causing you to shiver. You let your eyes travel the length of his body under the sheets and you bite your cheek as you meet his bare chest moving slowly up and down with each breath.

Pursing your lips together, you let your foot wander across the bed until it makes contact with his. You let the tips of your toes trace the curve of his ankle, as you watch a small smile play upon his lips. 

He turns his foot to meet yours, rubbing slowly over the top of yours as he twists his body to face you again. He places his hand next to his face on the pillow, pushing down the fluffy feather filled fabric, “So you do want to touch?”

You turn your body to face him, letting your foot slide up his leg, feeling the soft hairs tickle you. “Maybe a little…” you answer.

“You feel it too, don't you.” he asks. But this time, you know he isn’t talking about the fire. 

“Feel what, Josh…” you say in a playfully sultry tone.

“This.” He grabs your arm and pulls you as close to him as possible, his bare chest pressed directly to yours. 

Your legs intertwine with his as his hand cradles the back of your neck. Yours rests on his warm chest. He really wasn’t kidding about the warm sleeper thing.

Your fingertip traces the line of his collarbone as your eyes flick up to his, “Yes…I feel it too.”

You feel his breath on your forehead and you sink into him, as his body heat warms you quickly.

Feeling bold, you press a barely there kiss to his throat, stretched taut over your head. You feel his Adam's apple bob against your lips as your lips connect with his skin. His legs twitch against yours and you feel a warmth creeping down your center.

A closed mouth groan rumbles through his chest as his grip on you tightens. You have never made the first move, but tonight wasn’t a normal night. He was a stranger. A beautiful, warm stranger and you had already taken the first chance by knocking on his door.

You feel him hardening against your stomach and you smile up at him. His eyes have grown dark with want and you know yours probably look the same. “Josh…” you ask.

“Hmmm…” he hums into the top of your head.

“You know you could have just started a fire downstairs… I could have slept on the couch.” you say.

“You’re right. I could have, but I knew both of us weren’t going to fit on the couch.” he replies, voice soft as velvet.

“So you did want me in your bed…” you tease.

“From the second you asked me if I was watching A Clockwork Orange…” he says.

You crane your neck, lips furiously in search of his. You would be lying if you said you didn't catch yourself staring at his plush pink lips all night as he spoke of his passions. Thought about how they would feel, how they would taste. You thought about kissing the tiny scar you noticed on his cheek in the guest room. But nothing you imagined came close to how he actually felt. How he actually tasted. His tongue slides across your bottom lip as it begs for entry into your mouth. Slightly parting your lips he slides in, his tongue searching for yours.

You twist your fingers into his curly hair and it’s softer than you imagined. His lips pull away from yours and you whine at the loss of the heat of his tongue against yours. His lips connect with your jaw and neck as you scratch your nails against his scalp. You feel him hum against your neck as you pull on his hair, begging him for more. 

“You like that?” he murmurs against your skin. 

“Yes… kee– keep going…” you beg.

“God you’re sweet. I have to know you.” he says, as his kisses travel further down your neck. You feel his warm hand slide underneath the hem of the borrowed white shirt. His hand radiates heat across the sensitive skin of your stomach burning a path as it travels up. 

His eyes look to yours for permission, and he takes your deepend kiss as a yes as his hand connects with your hardened nipple. A moan leaves your mouth and travels into his and he rolls the taut flesh between his thumb and forefinger. 

He releases it as he grabs a handful of your breast, massaging the pliable skin. Sliding your knee upwards between his legs, you feel his full erect length straining through his boxers. You press your pelvis into his causing him to groan and pull you in tighter. 

“I want you to know me Josh, all of me.” you say, reaching down to grasp him in your hand. 

“Are you sure?” he asks.

You detach your lips from his neck as you respond with a nod, “Didn’t you say you would warm me up?”

“I did say that, didn’t I…” he teases, lifting the hem of the shirt to pull it over your head. As you lay there next to him, the orange glow of the fireplace reflects onto your skin.

“Shit, you are…for once I don’t have words.” he smiles.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” you laugh.

“Good. I always have words. My brothers give me shit for it all the time. But you have me speechless…” he says with a smile.

You blush, and you're positive that even in the dark room he can see it. His dimple shows through and you pull his neck down to connect your lips with his once more. 

Your hands travel down his sides, feeling his soft smooth skin beneath your hands. Supporting himself with one hand next to your head, the other hand skims to the top of the black sweatpants, teasing the sensitive skin across your hip bones.

He hooks a finger into the waistband and tugs downward pulling them to rest at your knees. You kick them the rest of the way off, leaving you bare beneath him.

“I can’t believe you got a flat in front of my house. I can’t believe I was actually here.” he says as if thanking God for his good fortune. 

“Why wouldn’t you be here?” you whisper.

“I travel a lot. I’m not here probably six months out of the year.” he answers.

You know you want to dive deeper into that at a later time, because right now, you need him. Like you need air. Lungs burning from not having him. 

You look directly into his beautiful brown eyes as you quickly rid him of his boxers. He kicks them off and your eyes travel down his chest to see the outline of his length glowing in the fire light between you.

He drops down to place wet kisses over your stomach and hips. Stopping and looking up at you as he presses a kiss to the mound between your legs. His tongue slips out and licks a warm path up your center causing you to breath sharply at the contact. Your hips flex backwards as your body silently begs for more friction. He pushes your legs apart slightly as he repeats the same motion, a sigh releasing from your chest. 

His tongue pointedly circles around your clit, you groan becoming more audible. His hand reaches up and grabs yours placing it on the top of his head. He wants your hands in his hair and you willingly oblige. 

Weaving your fingers through the curls you find yourself instinctively pressing down on his head to bring him closer. A growl racks through his chest. 

“Josh… I….” you whine.

His lips detach from you, “I know beautiful, give it to me. I want it.” he demands.

His tongue begins to furiously swipe against you and within seconds you are free falling into your release bucking your hips up into his mouth. The moan from your chest echoing through the silent house. As you float there in the darkness you feel his mouth leave you, and once you’re fully back, you feel him pressing kisses to your thighs. 

“Josh…I want you.” you say, pulling him up to hover over you. 

He presses a soft kiss to your lips, “You can have whatever you want, as long as you keep making pretty sounds like that.”

Gripping his dick in your now much warmer hand, you pull him to you, pressing him against your soaked core. 

You let go as he takes the lead, slowly sliding into you with a whispered ‘fuck.’

You adjust to him quickly, almost as if your body had been waiting for him since the minute he opened the door. His curls hang down his forehead as he sets a steady pace moving back and forth inside of you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you as your lips find his. You can taste yourself, but more, you can taste him. His essence. You can smell his earthy scent, pouring from his skin. Like a mix of damp wood and sweet vanilla. 

He rolls his hips into you eliciting a moan from your mouth. He does it again receiving the same response and a smile crosses his face. His thrusts become harsher, hitting the spot you so desperately need him to hit, and he does. Flawlessly. Your moans fill the air in the room. 

“I have heard so many things in my life, but god damn if this one isn’t my favorite.” he says, punctuating the sentence with the most sinful groan and you tighten around him. 

“Fuck… just like that gorgeous.” he says pressing deeper with each thrust.

“Josh, fuck…” you whine.

“You gonna give me another one baby? I want it…Need to feel you cum on my cock.” he pants. His hips begin to falter, thrusting wildly and inconsistently. You can tell he is close and you’re not far behind him. 

You squeeze around him as your fingernails dig into the soft skin of his back.  “Please, harder.” you beg.

Sweat drips down the side of his neck as he bites his bottom lip, thrusting into you harder than he has been, the smack of skin ringing through the vaulted ceilings. “Fuck, you want it hard baby? God you’re fucking perfect.” his hips snapping into you repeatedly like a rubberband. 

You toss your head back as you feel your stomach tightening. 

“Ahhh… fuck you’re squeezing me so fucking good… I won’t last much longer, I need you to cum for me angel. Let me have it.” he begs.

His words send you spiraling into your second release, tensing around his cock so hard, that he meets his own ending. You feel him pulsing inside of you. Groaning with each spurt your name falling from his lips like a prayer. 

His breathing is erratic as he collapses onto your chest, his messy curls tickling your face. You giggle as you push them away from your nose. He rolls off on you and onto his pillow, turning his head to face you as his breathing evens out. 

He pulls you close to him, your head laying on his chest. You listen to his heart beating and feel the rise and fall of his chest. His fingers run through your hair, occasionally twisting a strand around his finger, feeling the silkiness of it between his digits. His fingertips massage your scalp practically putting you to sleep.

“You live in Nashville, right?” he asks, finally breaking the silence.

You nod your head against his chest. “I do.”

“Good.” he replies.

You kiss his chest and he places a kiss on the top of your hair, letting his arm fall loosely around your back. Sleep overtaking both of you, finally warm.

When your eyes open, you see daylight. It is bright, brighter than usual. The sky is gray and heavy with snow clouds, an ominous reminder of what looks to be another snow storm impending. Sitting up, you find yourself still in the king size bed in Josh’s room. You see now in the light of day, the entirety of the wall of windows that overtakes the back portion of his home. His bedroom opening up to the bright light of the day as soon as the sun would begin to rise. You see that he has gone from next to you, and you bite your lip, wondering if he regrets what happened. 

You pull yourself out of the warmth of the bed and redress yourself in the borrowed clothes flung onto the floor with haste last night. You make his bed, a gentle thank you, for him to find later, before you step out of the doorway and make your way down the shiny wooden steps. 

The power is back on, evident by the smell of the coffee pouring out of the kitchen. You look around the house but you don’t see Josh. Where did he go?

You walk to the coffee pot situated next to the stove, and begin opening the cabinet doors looking for a mug. Settling on a blue mug with the state of Michigan on it, you pour the steaming hot liquid into the mug, breathing in deeply the invigorating scent. 

You carry the hot mug into the guest room, setting it on the bedside table as you change back into your own clothes. A few minutes later as you reemerge with the empty mug, you see Josh standing at the counter. He has on a sweatshirt and pants, and his hands are dirty. His cheeks are flushed pink from the cold outside air.

“I was wondering where you went.”  you say sheepishly, placing your mug on the counter. 

“I woke up and decided, ‘Who needs Triple A’... I can do it. So I went and dug your car out of the snow, and changed your flat. I have to admit, I haven’t had to do anything like that in a while. Probably since I was home in Michigan. It may have taken me longer than it should but … it was kinda nice. But I will admit it was hard to peel myself away from you this morning.” he smiles.

“You didn’t have to do that!” you implore, “Gosh I feel so bad, I already feel like I have imposed so much!”

Peeling his hoodie off, he rushes to you. “You weren’t an imposition. You were the unexpected surprise I needed. The best surprise.” he says, grabbing your hands. “Last night was…perfect and I want to see you again. In fact I don’t even want you to go.” he says shyly.

“Really?” you ask, nervously.

“Yeah, but I understand you probably need to…” he says looking down to the floor. Your heart clenches realizing how nervous he is, and that’s when you decide.

“I actually have nowhere to be… but… I do need a shower and I’ll probably need some clothes.” you smirk.

“You know…I think I can help with that.” he smiles.

You peer out the window behind him, snow flurries just beginning to fall as you ask, “Have you ever seen 2001: A Space Odyssey? I feel like you’d like it…”

He shakes his head in amazement as a smile spreads across his face, making way for his perfect dimple. With his look suddenly turning to a devilish grin, he throws you over his shoulder and carries you up the stairs, laughing the whole way. 

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Taglist: @gretavansara @jordierama @starshine-wagner @gretavanfvckface @gretavanmoon @gvfjess @misshunnybeebee @fretaganvleet @gvfpal @joshkiszkas @ascendingtostardust @raviolilegs @sammysprincess @gvfpal @objectsinspvce

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[windrsr]

THE PEPE PUNCH MEME I CAN'TTTT---

What if Michael and Samuel shared a darling? It's such an interesting yet chaotic combo

Samuel is the true pepe💅💅

Tw: Manipulation.

Samuel and Micheal (Male Yandere OCs) x Gender Neutral Reader

Micheal and Samuel Having The Same Darling

•VERY chaotic. These are two completely different individuals, and they are not getting along very well or agreeing when it comes to how you're treated.

•Samuel really doesn't like how Micheal treats you. He thinks you should be treated with affection and care, while Micheal thinks Samuel is making you weak and soft. Micheal thinks you're just a little pet to keep, while Samuel thinks you're a treasure to be cherished and taken cared of.

•Micheal pretty much tries to manipulate manipulate you. Tells you that you just want attention, that Samuel is just using you, and that all you want is someone to do your bidding for you.

•When you would come to Samuel and tell him about Michael's harsh treatment, he comforts you, he babys you and holds you in his lap as you'd probably be crying from Micheal's harsh treatment. It's common for him to warn Micheal on his behavior, because no one gets to treat his sweetheart poorly.

•It's more likely that Samuel would hide you from Micheal, somewhere he can never find you. His house is really big, and it would probably take hours to search the whole house.

•When Micheal constantly texts and calls you to see where you've been, Samuel takes away your phone and blocks him. He doesn't give your phone back for a while. Instead, he looks through your phone for some reason...

•One thing they both have in common is that they both don't make threats, but promises. It's rare for Samuel to ever get violent with someone, but...he will break a few bones if he has to (not yours, of course). But he doesn't show that side of him to you. He doesn't want to end up making you scared of him like how you probably are with Micheal.

[seenoversundown]

For Death Or Glory : Chapter Eighteen

Jake Kiszka x Charlotte (Fem OC)

Warnings: Some vague spiritual mentions, VERY LIGHT spooky theme, yearning, pining (can you tell it's a jake chapter?) anxious themes, slightly tense conversation? (not an argument don't worry) fluff fluff fluff fluff, may cause butterflies, a lot of physical touch type of affection, and certainly important: Jake is the definition of 'if he wanted to, he would.'

Word Count: 6k 🤭 (couldn't stop yapping this chapter)

Summary: Jake has a cute little surprise for Charlotte, which is why he insisted on her spending the night.

Author's Note: FOLKS- this one is fucking cute. The words just kept flowing and I think we're at a point in the story where this is going to be a trend. (We're in the home stretch, which makes me want to cry, but also-there's just so much to say in the chapters, that I don't foresee them getting much shorter from here on out!) I can't wait to see how you feel at the end 🤭 ((I'm sorry in advance, don't yell at me))

Crystal - Stevie Nicks "Like the love that had finally, finally found me, Then I knew, In the crystalline knowledge of you."

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God, it’s early. 

I managed to carefully slide out of bed without her waking up, which was already difficult because I wanted nothing more than just to stay curled up around her. But I need to be awake for a little bit before I surprise her today.

She told me when she was upset that her best friend and she had a tradition of going to Salem for her birthday every year. She wasn’t super into the spiritual side of things, but she loves Halloween, and with her birthday only being a few days before, she’s a bit biased. 

Unfortunately, this year, they never made it, and my heart shattered watching her tell me that the funeral was just a week prior to her birthday. I’ve never wanted just to squeeze someone harder than her at that moment.  When I had gone and talked to Josh, I had asked if he minded covering the bar that night because she was so upset and I didn’t have the heart to just.. let her be alone after that. But I told him that I would stop by the bar before I came home so I could talk to him about today. Thankfully, he was happy to take care of everything for the day, with the help of Danny. 

I sip on coffee as I figure out what I’m going to wear for the day, assuming that she will probably look nicer than my typical outfits. I know it doesn’t really matter what I’m wearing, but I want to make sure she has a good day and that I can manage not to look homeless sometimes. 

Grabbing a few things from my closet quietly, I sneak back out of my room so she can sleep for as long as possible. I drop them on the couch, deciding to really just go for it today. 

I pull my hair back into a bun, stealing a little more of Josh’s shaving cream, it’s not super grown in, but I may as well. Taking the time to make sure my face is clean-shaven before waking her. Remembering the fact she said I looked cute on Facetime after I shaved reluctantly, but if this is what she prefers, then I don’t mind.  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I sit on the bed next to her, just watching her sleep for a minute. She’s curled up with my pillow, which she must have stolen when I left the room. I don’t want to wake her up; she looks so comfortable. 

Softly, I run my hand down the back of her head, and she doesn’t flinch at all. I gently scratched her back, hoping that the contact would help, but still, she didn’t budge. 

I lean down, kissing her temple and then whispering. “Hey you,” into her. Pressing slow, soft kisses into the side of her face. 

“Mmm..” her sleepy little groan made me laugh. 

Peppering a few more kisses against her cheek, mumbling, “Goodmorning.”

It takes her a minute, but she finally opens her eyes slightly and looks up at me. 

I whisper, “There she is.” 

“Why are you up?” She mumbles, reaching her arms out to me. Wrapping her up in a hug, she tucks her little face into me. Maybe we can just stay like this instead. 

“You should get dressed and come with me. I have a few things I need to do,” I tell her, hoping she’ll not fight it. 

“How dressed are we talking?” 

I sit up a little to look at her, “Um.. we’ll be like.. in public.. Does that help?” 

She touches my face, ignoring my answer, “Did you just shave?” 

“Mhm,” I respond, choking back a laugh. “Come on, sleeping beauty, don’t get distracted.” 

”Your face is soft,” she says quietly, as she’s running her hand down my cheek and holding my chin. 

“Just for you,” I giggle before leaning down and kissing her. “I have coffee for you, too.” 

“What are you up to?” She squints at me; there’s no way she’s figured it out already. 

My eyebrows pull together, “What do you mean?” 

“You’re being extra sweet this morning..” her voice trailing off. 

“Am I not allowed to be nice to you?” I laugh. “I can be mean if you’d prefer.”

She laughed with me this time, “I can’t even imagine that.” 

“I don’t think I could be mean to you if I tried.” I would never. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

While she’s getting herself together, I pull on the outfit I had picked out earlier. Cuffing the bottom of my pants so they sit nicely with the boots I’m about to grab. Am I hoping that she’ll think I look nice? Maybe. Opening the drawer of my nightstand, the few rings that I have and my watch sit there. I slide on one of the rings and decide to actually wear my watch today. Staring at myself in the mirror, I feel like I look kind of put together? I don’t think I could tell you the last time I tried this hard with an outfit. 

I’m sitting on the couch, just scrolling through emails, when I hear her walking out of the bathroom. I glance up from my phone as she walks over to me. 

Her voice was so low when she finally let out, “Okay, I’m ready.”

I take her in, her sweater tucked into a little plaid skirt, leaving her legs on display even if they’re covered by black tights. Even with a coat over it, she looks so good. I just quietly stand up, still looking at her but unable to form words. 

“Oh,” she squeaks, looking me up and down. “You look cute.” 

“Hah, thank you,” I can’t shake the nerves from my voice when I say it. “You–” I hesitate, not even knowing how to compliment her at the moment. 

“I’m what?” 

“You just look,” I start, glancing down at her again. “Wow.” 

She giggles at me as I struggle to find words, “Stop it!” 

I shake my head as if it’ll help me refocus. I wasn’t prepared for her to be able to look like this on a whim. 

“Alright, you, let’s go.”  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Once we’re in the car, I hand her my phone, letting her pick whatever for music. I had already put an address into my maps, just to at least get me to Salem– assuming that she would have something picked out by the time we got there. We hardly make it to the turnpike before I feel her staring at me. 

“Jacob,” she pauses, “Where are we going?”

“Well,” I glanced over at her for a second. “You said you always went to Salem around your birthday and that you hadn’t gone this year because of everything going on so..” 

“Wait- really?” Her voice was small. 

I reach over, resting my hand on her thigh, “Mhm. I figured it’s not fair for you not to do anything for your birthday, and I’m sure you already know some things you like to do there.” 

She leans over the center console, kissing my cheek a few times before letting a small “thank you” squeak out. 

“Of course,” I can feel my face warm, squeezing her leg a few times.  Her hand holds my forearm gently, and the little bit of contact gives me butterflies. 

“I’m assuming you’ve been to Salem?”

“Not in a long time, so whatever you want to do will basically be new to me.” Her eyes light up, and she quickly grabs her phone. 

She’s quiet for a few minutes, just buried in her phone until she holds it out in front of me, “Loook! We could do this!”  I pull it closer so I can actually see; it’s a video of people getting their aura photos done. 

“We can, if you want,” I tell her. 

She’s precious; the way her face lights up when she’s excited makes me want to just give her everything and anything she wants. 

She spent a lot of the drive there finding little things that we could do and excitedly telling me about them. Even if I had to keep reassuring her that whatever she chose was fine. I don’t think she’s used to people doing things for her.  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Her voice is quiet when she asks, “Can we get coffee?” as if she thinks I’ll say no.

“Mhm,” I hum back. “Just pick where from.” The way she gets shy asking for things makes me laugh to myself. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Mhmm,” I giggle, looking over at her. “Whatever you want, Char.” 

After finding the one she had decided on, I listened to her try and decide which drink she wanted to try; the way she was tied between the two made me laugh.

“Whichever one you get, I’ll get the other one,” I whisper to her. 

Her head whips over, “Oh, you don’t have to do that.” 

“I don’t mind,” 

We finally move up to order; I make her go first so I can order the other drink she didn’t pick. Avoiding looking at her when I could almost feel the wind from how fast she snapped her neck to look at me. I pull out my wallet and quickly pay as her jaw slacks open, staring at me. 

“What?” 

“You just-” 

My eyebrows raise as she hesitates, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well,” her voice is low, looking at the ground for a second. “Thank you.” 

“Of course,” I tell her, grabbing her hand and pulling her over to a table. “I’ll go grab the drinks; make yourself comfortable.”

I pull out my phone while I wait for our drinks to be made. Clicking on the app for our cameras, which I honestly don’t really look at often. I can just look real quick, so I don’t have to bug them. 

Switching between the few, everything seems normal, but I still feel compelled to check my texts. Nothing. 

Me: hey, if you need anything just let me know okay? 

Me: Also, daniel will be there around like 4pm so you won’t have to close alone

Josh: i know! don’t worry about us just go have fun with your lady! 

‘Jake’ gets called, and it pulls me out of my phone. I grab our drinks and wander back over to the table. Her hands reach out as soon as I get close to her; she’s almost vibrating with excitement over it. 

She sips on her drink, letting out little ‘mmm’s as she does. It’s unfair how adorable she is. Thankful that the drink I chose wasn’t terrible, I finally tried it, realizing that she had her eyes locked on me. 

“Here,” I hand her my drink, her eyes lighting up as she takes it from me. The fact she didn’t hesitate to sip on it gives me butterflies. You would think I’d never kissed her with the way my body reacts to basic things she does. 

Josh: do we have more downeast somewhere or is this it 

Josh: it’s not urgent just whenever you get a second 

Mel: do you want me to go in at all? I can just help out if you don’t want me to make drinks. 

‘Motion Detected’  notifications from Josh opening the bar sit on my lock screen. 

“Hey,” she says, bringing me back to reality. Her hand reaching up and tapping in between my eyebrows lightly, “What’s going on?” 

“Just have a bunch of texts from Josh about the bar,” I tell her, trying not to let my eyebrows pull back together. 

Her eyes look between mine as we sit there, “Everything is going to be fine. Danny won’t let the bar burn down.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” I tell her, sliding my phone into my pocket. “Where would you like to go first?”

“Do you want to see some of the witch trial sites?” She asks.  “Or is it too spooky for you?” Followed with a slight giggle as she looked at me. 

“Oh, don’t start with me,” I laugh before deciding to tease her back. “I’ll hold your hand if you get too scared, though.”  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I can tell she really enjoys it here because she can just glance at her maps and then know where to wander off to. She really seems in her element getting to bring me to all these sites. Almost makes me wonder if this is what they would do every year. Telling me about everything that happened in each of the spots. She made sure to point out little details that she really enjoyed. 

My phone has vibrated a few times, and I’m genuinely fighting demons, trying not to look at what it is. Everything is fine. Dan is there. It’s okay. I spend a minute trying to shake the thought and refocus on her as we walk through a little bit of the cemetery. 

“Not too scared yet, are you?” she taunts. 

A slight grin sneaks onto my face, “And what if I was?” 

“Oooohhh, poor baby,” she teases me further, her hand running over my cheek. I know she’s trying to be funny, but hearing her call me ‘baby’ makes my knees weak. The way her lips pouted when she said it also made me wish I could just kiss her freely. 

“I offer to hold your hand, and you just make fun of me?” I let out dramatically. “I see how it is.” Hearing her laugh is worth having to be a bit dramatic. I pout my lip out at her as she giggles at me. 

“I’d take it back,” She starts. “But, you’re cute when you do this.” She taps my bottom lip gently, and I can’t stop the grin that forms when she does. Maybe I am scared. 

“Where else do you want to show me? Or are we just trying to pick up some spirits to bring home with us?” 

She finds a few that she hadn’t been to in a while, leading the way. I would gladly follow her around even if she were lying to me about every single thing. She kept touching my arm when she would tell me things, and it was taking everything in me to stay calm about it. It’s not that deep, Jake. Chill out. I try to tell myself, and then she tells me the history of the next place, and her hand lingers on my bicep for a minute, which makes all the hair on my body stand. 

I can feel my phone vibrating in my pocket as we walk to another spot that she’s excited about. It’s not important. They have everything under control. I try to ignore the feeling and focus on her. But the incessant vibration against my leg is making it difficult. 

Bzzt.

Bzzt.

Bzzt.

For fucks sake, what could be happening? 

I pull out my phone for what feels like the thousandth time, seeing a handful of notifications sitting there. 

Josh: imagine I just get super drunk because it’s slow!! 

Josh: i’m so kidding 

Josh: or am I? the world will never know.

Danny: Please just ignore Josh. He’s cackling like a witch behind the bar so I know he’s being a little shit. 

Josh (in the Caravel Chat) : Hear me out- We just close early today for fun!

Sam: why is josh asking me to come help him lol 

Quinn: Did you leave Josh alone at the bar? 

Danny: Everything is fine I swear.

Sam: actually if you pay me for the night, i’ll do it 

Staring at all the texts that have come in, I can’t fight the way my hand rubs over my face. As I’m trying to decide what to respond to first, I feel her hand grab my arm. 

“Babe,” she says, squeezing me gently. My heart is simultaneously pounding at her casual pet name but also aches at the look on her face. Get off your phone, you dumbass. 

Locking my phone and shoving it into my pocket, I look back at her, “I’m so sorry.”

She gently grabs my chin, forcing me to look at her, “I think it’s wonderful how much you care about your job, but they can handle it.” 

“No, no, you’re right. I’m still sorry, and I promise I’ll stop,” comes out a bit sadder sounding than I expected. She leans up, placing a kiss on my cheek. 

“It’s okay,” she says quietly, “I just want you to have fun too.” 

“I am,” I whisper. “Come on, the aura photos are calling our names.”

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I pull open the door to the little shop that offers the photos, letting her excitedly go in first. She doesn’t go far, just waiting for me to come in with her. There’s someone already talking to the girl working there, so we just wander around looking at the selection of crystals and stones they have. She’s kept herself close to me while I pick up random crystals to look at them closer. Is she nervous? She has such a strong personality when it comes to her job, which I know is part of the gig for her, but it’s interesting to see how she acts when she doesn’t have to be in charge. The fact she has been attached to me from the moment we walked in is throwing me off. 

Hearing the door chimes ring, the girl behind the counter glances over at us. 

“Hi! Did you have any questions?” her voice was bubbly. 

I feel her gently tap my arm, seeing her stare at me from the corner of my eye. I have to fight the laugh when I realize she wants me to ask.

“Actually, yes,” I start. “Is there any chance we can get our aura photos done?” 

“Oh, absolutely!” She says. “Did you want individual ones?” 

“Please,” I tell her. “If you have time, obviously.” 

She laughs boisterously, “Lucky for the two of you– after Halloween, we die off so quickly! I have so much time; I don’t know what to do with myself.” 

She brings us to the area they have set up, explaining the process and how it works before having Charlotte sit down first. She’s so graceful as she gets situated. So, she carefully made sure her hands were in the right place after adjusting her hair a few times. The girl working here was so friendly and was talking her through it to help make sure that she was relaxed, so she got an authentic reading. 

I don’t know what it is about her that is so incredibly captivating, but the entire time, I can’t look away from her. I stand far enough out of the way that she can’t see me, but all I can think is– she is effortlessly beautiful. The feeling I get when I look at her scares me; my heart races, and the way my stomach turns. The witch trial sites could never compare. 

It only takes a few minutes before we’re swapping spots. She, on the other hand, stays within eyeshot for me. Doing everything I can to focus on the employee and not her, I feel myself calm down a bit. The girl leans down to take the photo, and I can see Charlotte in my peripheral. With the soft smile on her face, as she watches, I find myself unable to hold back the full smile as I hear the shutter of the camera.

“If you want, I can give you guys a little explanation of what your colors mean!” The girl offers, and we have the time to kill, so we obviously take her up on the offer. 

  We follow her back up to the counter, where she slides both of our photos over to us. My eyes go to her right away; our colors are not the same at all. 

“Ladies first,” the girl says, nudging Char’s photo forward a bit. “You have quite a bit of red in here, dear. Red typically represents a passionate, intense, loyal person. Depending on the shade of red, it can also have some romantic representations as well.” 

I glance over as Charlotte is just beaming at this girl while she explains. “You also have a little bit of a deeper purple in there, which means you may have something that is bothering you. Some sort of obstacle that you need to overcome.” 

Oh no. My hand finds hers, lightly tapping just to let her know I’m still there. She so softly wraps her hand around my index finger, squeezing a few times, almost like a ‘thank you.’

“And now for you,” the girl taps my photo forward. “You have majority green, which is usually characterized by the person’s nurturing disposition. You embody compassion and understanding. Since yours is also more of a mint green, you must be someone who just radiates peace and serenity to those around you.”

Charlotte’s soft laugh, “Sounds about right.”

“You’re obviously welcome to look up more about the meanings behind the colors! I just figured I would give you a baseline of what they mean,” she tells us.

“No, thank you so much for that, actually,” Charlotte finally chimes in.

The girl chuckles as she runs my card for everything, looking at me as she hands it back, “You know it’s kinda cute; your aura colors complement each other well.” Shooting me a wink as she glances down at the photos. Why is she trying to torture me?

There’s no way my face isn’t a little red at her comment, and then I glance over at her; the subtle pink in her cheeks makes me feel less insane. But is she just embarrassed, or is she into that? 

“Thank you again,” I tell her as we go to leave, pushing the door open for Charlotte to go out first.  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Where to next?” 

Her excitement is palatable, “Oooo, I have an idea!” 

I watch her as she leads me to another little shop that she likes to look through. My heart feels.. different as I watch her. Seeing her get excited over these things that she looks forward to year after year, the way she just beams back at me like I’m the one who founded this town. She keeps holding my hand, and even when she lets go to show me something, she always finds her way back to it. She walks so close that she bumps into me constantly. Okay so.. I have a crush on her.. But how could I not? 

Her sweet face when she turns to me with something that she’s found. I don’t know what’s worse, the soft sparkle in her eyes or trying to focus on anything beyond how perfectly painted her freckles are over her nose. Her little voice every time, ‘Jacob look!’ she would whisper, made me laugh to myself. 

“Do you want it?” I whisper after she’s shown me just about everything in the store. 

And she’s suddenly shy again. 

“No, no, it’s just cute,” she tries to backpedal. 

I take the dainty chain bracelet from her, “It’s very cute.” Inspecting it closer, knowing I’m going to just hold onto it even if she tries to fight me on it. She can’t just show me a million things and think I’m not going to offer to get one of them, at the very least, for her.

I go to set the bracelet back in its place, “Do you want to keep looking around?”

She nods quickly, grabbing my free hand gently. As soon as she turns her head, I pull the bracelet back to me, keeping it tucked in my hand so she doesn’t see it. 

We spent a few more minutes wandering around with her, continuing the same routine of finding something she liked and turning to show me. 

“We can go,” her soft voice rings as we’re walking towards the front. 

I look over at her, fighting the urge to smile, “Give me like two minutes.” 

Walking up to the counter, I hand the bracelet to the employee, knowing there’s no way she isn’t going to notice. Her hand tightened around mine as they dropped the bracelet into a little paper bag, handing it over to me with my receipt. 

Tugging her behind me as we leave, I turn to her, holding out the bag, “For you.” 

“You’re so–” She starts, but pouting her lip when she’s stumped for words. “Thank you, babe.” 

Please just keep calling me that. If I thought her pet naming me woud be bad, I was severely unprepared. 

“Can you help me?” She sweetly asks, holding up the ends of the bracelet to me. 

I grab them from her, and she holds out her wrist for me. Something about the motion of clasping this little chain on her feels like time has slowed. The look on her face, her skin is so soft, and the dainty bracelet looks so perfect on her. I turn it around to see the little charm that’s on it, just holding her wrist for a second. ‘Crush’ may not be the word anymore.   ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

We spent a little while wandering in and out of shops throughout the little street. As we walk further, the iconic Witch House comes into view. A giant black house with three distinct peaks in the roof, it’s hard to miss, but she still points it out to me. 

“Ooooh! We used to take cute pictures in front of it every year.” 

“Are you saying that you want a picture?”

“Maybe,” She grabs my hand, tugging me along with her. She pulls her phone from her bag, and I reach my hand out, thinking that she just wants me to take it. “No, come here.” 

She pulled me close to her and reached out to take a picture of us. She wants.. a picture of the two of us? My arm wraps around her waist gently as she tucks herself into me; she beams at the camera; her smile could light up a room at this moment. 

“You better show off those teeth, Jacob,” she says, making me chuckle to myself. Smiling but looking at her, I can see her clicking the shutter button out of the corner of my eye. 

“Um, do you guys want me to take one for you?” a stranger quietly interjects as they’re passing by. 

“Oooh, yes!” she quickly hands them her phone. Okay, we’re doing this now, haha, that’s so fine. 

She comes back to me, leaning into my side and letting her hand rest on my stomach. Oh, uh.  My arm pulls her into me, and my hand sits on her lower back; I can feel her staring at me, so I glance over. Her lips pulled into the cutest smile; I swear she could feel my heart pounding. Her eyes dropped to my mouth and then back up, making me fully smile at her. 

“Perfect,” she whispers as she looks over at the person, but I don’t want to stop looking at her. I force my head to turn away from her. I looked over to the camera and felt her leaning against me slightly. It takes two seconds before they start walking back over with her phone. She clicks on her camera roll, quickly swiping through them and thanking the person for helping. She turns to me as she looks through them again. 

“Stop, this one’s so cute,” she turns it to me. They caught me looking at her.. We look like a couple; my stomach tenses at the thought. I... Watching as she sends me a bunch of them, taking a second to favorite a couple of them so she doesn’t lose them. “Oh wait, this one too!”  The one moment of her looking at me, her hand sitting on my stomach and full teeth smile on display, looking right at her– my heart flutters at the sight of it. I hadn’t considered how we look together.. from someone else’s point of view. I look like I’m in lo—.

She cuts me off, “Do you want to get some food? I don’t know how late you planned on being here, but at least then, we aren’t starving on the drive home.”

“Um, yeah, we probably should,” I stumble over my words for a second. “Was there somewhere you had in mind?” ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

We wandered around for a bit trying to decide what we wanted. It probably would have gone quicker if we focused and weren’t talking about all the things in the window displays as we passed them. But the way she hardly let go of my hand the entire time, I wasn’t about to stop her from doing whatever it is she wanted. 

We almost walked past the restaurant she decided that she wanted to try, but I think if you looked hard enough, you would have seen the smoke from how fast she hit the brakes when she realized it was next to us. It was a treat for me to see her so.. joyful. 

The server dropping off our drinks and taking our order, we have time to just stare at each other and I listen to her tell me how she’s been looking at this place on instagram for a while. 

I finally ask, “Was this a good surprise at least?” 

“Are you kidding? Of course it was,” she said, leaning forward with a sweet little grin on her lips. 

“I know it’s not the same, but—“ 

She stops me quickly, “If I didn't think she’d hear me, I’d say it might be even better.“ Don’t tell me that. 

“I don’t know about that,” 

“Hey,” she almost scolds me. “It was very sweet of you– no but’s allowed.” 

I giggle at the tone of her voice, knowing she would absolutely yell at me if I kept going. The server dropped off our food quietly as we kept talking about the little things we saw today. She kept asking what I liked most, and I couldn’t be honest because it was just getting to be with her.  She told me about how she and Cass would always try to find new things every year, but they also just enjoyed wandering through the same historical sites because it was just interesting to see. 

“Are you still panicking over the bar?” She asks, scooting her plate away from her. 

It hits me that I’ve been distracted enough that I hadn’t even looked at my phone. 

“Actually.. I hadn’t thought about it,” I tell her. 

She fakes a gasp at me, “Well, look at that.”

“Growing up so fast,” I giggle.  Or it could be the fact I spent the whole day getting to watch a beautiful girl smile at me for bringing her here. 

“Proud of you,” she whispers with her foot grazing my leg. 

She’s absolutely killing me. 

Our server came over with our bill, and I had just held my hand out for the little black folder. I slid my card in without hesitation and handed it back to them. I quietly let out a small ‘Thank you’ as they took the small folder away from me. I look back over to her, and the pink tint to her cheeks is more noticeable than I’m sure she’d like. What is she blushing over? 

“You okay?” 

“Mhm,” she hums back.

“You sure?” 

“Yes,” she laughs. “..just you.” 

The server comes back with the folder, taking my card out. I can feel her stare as she watches me sign the receipt and slide cash into the folder for their tip. I look up at her and softly ask, “You ready?” Letting her lead the way out, my hand found its place on her lower back, trying to keep her close to me. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“It’s so cute here when it’s dark out,” she says as she’s looking at all the shops lit up now that the sun is set. 

I just watch her take everything in, the pure joy on her face, and my heart feels like it’s melting for the hundredth time today. She slides her hand into mine, leaning into my arm and wrapping her free hand over my bicep as we walk. What is she doing? 

“Thank you for everything today,” She squeaks out. 

I look over, placing a kiss on the side of her head, “You’re very welcome.” 

She stops walking, tugging my arm lightly. I turn around to face her when she closes the gap between us. Tilting her head back slightly as she leans into my chest, leaving a few sweet kisses against my lips. 

“I’ve been waiting for that all day,” she mumbles into me. She’s been waiting? I COULD HAVE DONE THAT SOONER?

“I’m sorry, hun,” I mumble back. “I’ll just have to make up for it now.” Earning the biggest smile out of her, making me laugh at how eager she just got. 

“In that case,” she laughs, wiggling herself out of my arms but grabbing my hand instead. “Let’s go, baby!” 

After a lovely little walk filled with giggles and a few more pit stops that she insisted on just to give me a kiss, we finally made it to the car. I can see her trying to readjust to be more comfortable, moving her legs around every which way. 

I look over at her, letting out a small ‘hey’ before patting my leg. I reach over, carefully grabbing her ankles and pulling her legs out over my lap. We sit in the comfortable quiet for a bit, whatever song she’s chosen playing softly while she just looks through her phone. My hand hasn’t left her since I moved her legs. Rubbing little circles on her ankle or just sliding up the side of her foot. Anything to keep some sort of contact, and she doesn’t seem to mind. 

She reaches over, lightly running her fingertips over my cheek. It’s hard not to smile at it; she’s so fucking cute. 

“Your face is still so soft,” she giggles. 

“I wanted to look nice,” I admit. 

She rebuttals quickly, “You always look nice.” 

“Mmm,” I start. “But standing next to you all day, I wanted to make sure I at least looked half as good as you.”  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The drive home felt short in comparison, but the lack of anxiety I felt this time probably helped. We immediately head up to the apartment, surprisingly avoiding the bar.

“Sooo..” I start, keeping my voice low as I sneak up behind her, sliding my arms around her waist. “The bar doesn’t close for a couple more hours..” 

She twists around in my arms to face me, “Jacob, you’re not about to go to work right now.”

“That wasn’t my thought, but thank you for that,” I let out in the most monotone voice. 

“Oh! Are you turning a new leaf already? One day of me pestering you to stop working is all it took?” She teases me with a little smirk plastered on her face. 

“You really don’t have to make fun of me,” I say, letting my hands settle on her hips. “But, yes— maybe it helped.“

Her hands held the sides of my face, “It is nice to just enjoy you outside of the bar.” 

I mumble back, “Is that so?” 

“Mhm,” Her body leans into me. “I don’t have to share you with anyone else this way.” You’re not sharing me in there either, trust me. 

“Are you trying to say you want more attention?”  I question her. 

“From you? Absolutely,” her voice is so sexy; my body feels like it’s on fire. I want quite literally nothing more than to do that.

Pulling her into me, I whisper, “What kind of attention do you want, hun?” 

“Mmmm…” She hums, before her head tilts slightly and with a delicious little smile on her lips. And then she whispers, “You’re full of surprises today; why don’t you decide, babe?” 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Nineteen

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[slaptasticturtle]

Hallows Night

Yandere Male Werewolf X GN Reader

Warnings: Gore, Death (not reader), unhealthy relationship, unpleasant description of violence, swearing.

The night crept in on this year's Halloween, a holiday y/n quite enjoyed. Candy, costumes, scares, and the general atmosphere all made for a fun night. They hadn't gone full out with their costume, having been fired from their job a few weeks ago, they couldn't afford more than a simple Walmart costume. They had dressed as Ghostface and their friends decided that it would be fun to all be iconic slashers.

David, one of their oldest friends, had dressed as Michael Myers. He was the only one with the correct stature for it. Bulky, tall, and very imposing. The only thing that didn't match was his friendly personality. He couldn't harm a fly, even if that fly killed his entire family.

Caleb, the most recent addition to y/n's friends, dressed as Jason. His stature was wrong, but he insisted on being his favorite slasher. He was pretty short and slim, almost twig like. He carried a real machete for self defense, and to make the costume more real. Despite being shorter than everyone in the group, he was probably the best fighter. He was considered a delinquent and would constantly get into fights with others before meeting the group.

Sarah, who was like a sister to y/n, dressed as ghost face as well. There were always 2, so she thought it would be cool. Sarah refused to add any fake blood, as she didn't want to scare any kids that decided to trick or treat. She was kind to a fault, refusing to state the faults in others; even if it helped them.

Jim, who accidentally joined the group, dressed as Billy the puppet. He liked horror movies and really enjoyed Gore, so being the puppet from the saw series was his go to. He wanted to watch horror movies instead of going to the party they were walking to, but Violet convinced him to go. He hated the large crowds, but he had a not-so-secret crush on Violet. Opposites do attract.

Violet, the party girl, was going as a genderbent freddy Krueger. She loved cosplaying, and that allowed her to spend hours working on hers with how long the makeup would take. She happens to be in a rich family and was able to spend much more on her costume than the others in the group. She loved showing off her talents and loved to be in larger crowds.

Finally, there was Samuel, the survivalist. He was dressed as leather face. He wasn't as buff as David, but he was still pretty strong. He had more of a sleeper build, which he got from working in the forest. He worked as a lumberjack, and just happened to go to the same college as y/n. He met the group when they had gone camping in the forest his family owned. They hadn't known, but Samuel was pretty forgiving and allowed the to camp. After that he showed up to one of y/n's classes and slowly became a member of the group.

They had decided to go to a party that one of their fellow students was hosting. They had invited just about everyone in the college, so the group was expecting a large crowd. Y/n, while not afraid of large crowds, was worried about how large this one may be. They had decided to walk there, as it wasn't to far, and Sarah wanted to see the trick or treaters. She had brought a bag of candy for the walk, and was passing out candy to truck or treaters as they passed by. Violet was skipping as she walked, which was slightly unsettling with the costume she had. David was walking in the middle, in order to appear scary to any wannabe hooligans he claimed, but the group knew it was because he didn't want to get lost. He was known to suddenly wander off when something caught his attention.

Caleb was glaring at anyone who passed by, and would occasionally jump out at little kids. Everytime he did, Sarah would slap the back of his head and the group would need to stop for Sarah to lecture him. Y/n was just walking along with David and Samuel, all three pretty silent on the way and only really talking when they were talked to. Violet joked that Y/n had scary dog privileges, as both Samuel and David towered over them and anyone would think twice before approaching Y/n.

After half an hour, they finally began to see lights. The crowd wasn't in the thousands, but there were atleast a few hundred people. Luckily that classmate was the product of an eccentric millionaire father, so the giant mansion had more than enough room. The party was loud, and y/n could tell that most party goers were either drunk or high. Caleb scrunched up his nose as one person passed by, reeking of alcohol. Violet immediately ran off, and Caleb began to follow leaving the rest of the group behind.

Dave looked around for a second before turning to the others.

Dave:"so, what are we going to do?"

Sarah:"stick together, have fun, and not get too drunk or high?"

Y/n:"sounds like a plan."

Samuel:"should we look for the other two?"

Y/n:"nah, they probably are going to end up in bed together and I don't want to interfere with something we have been waiting for."

Sarah looked disgusted at that comment, and gave a little "hmph" while Dave giggled and Samuel let out a full belly laugh, which attracted the attention if a few nearby party goers.

Samuel:"I agree with y/n on this, we knew it would happen eventually."

David:"yeah, let's leave Mr Guard Dog with Ms. Princess so they can finally get together. I see the punchbowl, does anyone want a drink?"

Y/n shrugged.

Y/n:"only if it is not spiked, don't want to get drunk yet."

Samuel:"I'll take one, and I didn't know you liked to get drunk y/n."

Y/n:"I really don't, but it's a party; so why not live a little."

Sarah shook her head.

Sarah:"not thirsty at the moment."

David:"suit yourself."

David wandered to the punch bowl and proceeded to fill three cups. He took a sip of his, and poured one of the cups back into the punch bowl. He then walked back over with his cup and one other.

David:"definitely spiked. I could taste the vodka"

Samuel took a sip.

Samuel:"yep; vodka, tequila, and a little bit of wine. Pretty weird combination. Maybe multiple people tried to spike it?:

Dave:"man, I wish I had those kind of taste buds. How could you tell about the wine?"

Samuel smiled and boastful stated

Samuel:"my mother's a natural when it comes to cooking. My pallete is very advanced. Wine has an off taste when it comes to the grape flavor, and the punch does not contain grapes."

After a few hours of partying, y/n decided to give get some punch. David noticed and walked over to them.

David:"I can go get you some punch now, there is quite a crowd near there and I would rather you not be assimilated."

Y/n:"thanks. I'll be right here."

David nodded and began to head to the table. After a minute, Samuel approached Y/n with a cup of punch. He held it out and said

Samuel:"David told me to give this to you, Sarah needed his help with something."

Y/n nodded and thanked him before drinking it. It had an off taste, but y/n assumed it was the alcohol. After a few minutes after finishing the punch, Y/n began to feel dizzy and saw David approach. He had a cup if punch in his hands.

David:"are you feeling OK? You look a little pale. I got the punch finally, the line was massive."

Y/n looked at David confused, but was to dizzy to form a complete sentence. After a moment, Y/n lost their balance and David caught them. He brought them to an empty room and sat them on the ground.

David:"I'll watch over you, get some sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

With that y/n slowly fell asleep.

After an unknown amount of time, y/n awoke to David shaking them. The first thing y/n picked up was the sound screaming. David in a hushed tone hurriedly explained to y/n what was happening

David:"Y/n, you awake? Good. I barricaded the door and called the police. Someone went crazy and suddenly bit the throat of someone else. They then grabbed a knife and began to stab other people. We need to be quite."

Y/n, now fearing for their lives, quickly nodded and began to shiver in fear. David noticed and wrapped them up in a nearby curtain. They happened to be in a storage room, and a lot of old furniture was stashed there. David began to search for a weapon. Y/n noticed a second exit, an emergency exit, that didn't have an entrance. They pointed it out to David.

David:"we will use that as a last resort. I checked, it leads to the hallway outside. This room is like a panic room it seems."

Y/n agreed, as they were in the room and were definitely panicking.

After the screams began to die down, they heard footsteps approach the barricaded door. They heard a growl, and suddenly the door was being slammed into. The barricade, which consisted of a dresser and mirror, began to Crack. The door was splintering, and David quickly turned to y/n.

David:"you need to go. I will distract them while you escape."

Y/n began to shake their head, but David hushed them.

David:"I will not let you be killed. I love you to much to allow you to be hurt. Live your life, remember me, and get outside. The police will be here soon. I'm happy to be your friend."

Y/n looked shocked for a moment, then nodded now determined. Another slam caused the mirror to fall and shatter, the dresser was beginning to fall apart. David grabbed the curtain pole, and got into a stance. Y/n quickly pushed against the wall and immediately began to run. They were shocked at the carnage. Dozens of dead bodies, blood everywhere. The floor was surely going to be stained crimson. Some bodies were missing limbs, others bad their throats torn out. A few of the bodies were moaning in pain, but y/n couldn't afford to stop. The person slamming into the door broke through, based on the sudden crash behind y/n as they continued to run. Tears streamed down y/n's face as they continued to run as a sudden howl rang out. Y/n gasped, and came to a stop, the tears growing. Sarah's body laid infront of them and seemed to be the worst of all. She was missing both legs, an arm, and had a large scratch going through her face. The only reason Y/n could even recognize Sarah was the torn costume, and the necklace they wore. Y/n came out of their shock and began to run towards the entrance again. They were lost, though, not knowing the directions of the mansion and how they got to the storage room. Suddenly someone grabbed their shoulder. Y/n turned and gasped.

Caleb was getting along with Violet for a while when suddenly screams ran out. Caleb turned for a minute and heard violet chuckle. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain on his shoulder and could no longer feel his arm. He looked at his arm and let out a cry of agony. Violet, who now was nearly 7 feet tall and looked like a monster, had ripped his arm off. He quickly began to run, while Violet began a rampage. She quickly grabbed one of the other party goers and ripped their throat our with her bare teeth, blood gushing onto her brown fur. Caleb ran to one of the curtains, and using his machete, cut a large section off. He was loosing blood fast, ND would die if he did not hurry. He made a tourniquet and quickly tightened it onto his shoulder, which slowed the bleeding. He used another strip to package his wound, hissing as he did. He would survive this wound for a bit longer, but he needed to get out. He placed his machete in his holster, and began to head to the entrance when he noticed someone familiar. He grasped at their shoulder, and Y/n turned around, gasping.

Caleb:"do you know where the others are?"

Y/n, with tears in their eyes,:"David sacrificed himself so I could escape. Sarah is dead. I don't know about Samuel or violet."

Caleb gritted his teeth and said:"violet is one of the monsters. She suddenly grew several feet taller and ripped my arm off. We need to find the others, if they are still alive. Based on the dead bodies around us, there is more than just 1 or 2 monsters. I am ahead of Violet, but she may be gaining ground."

Y/n was shocked, but quickly regained their resolve. They nodded and began to search rooms as quietly and quickly as possible. A voice suddenly rang out from the hallway they were in.

Violet:"Caleb, I can smell your blood! I know you are out here! If you show yourself, I can give you a quick death. Almost painless. If you surrender Y/n, I will let you go. After all, this is all for them!"

Caleb quickly whipped around and told Y/n

Caleb:"we need to go. Split up, we will meet in the main lobby. If I'm not there in 5 minutes, leave without me. You just need to go straight and to the right. Last door. I will try and lose them."

With that he quickly rushed into a bedroom. Y/n turned and began to spring down the hallway as Violet called out to them

Violet:"Y/n, please come here. I won't hurt you, none of us will. We just want to welcome you to the family. No one else needs to die, not Caleb, Samuel, Sarah, or David!"

Y/n turned and shouted back as they continued to run

Y/n:"you monsters killed Sarah and David. You probably killed Samuel. Leave me alone, I don't want to join whatever you monsters are!"

Y/n heard a snarl, but they heard a door open and saw a giant wolf monster go into the bedroom Caleb went into. Y/n finally burst through the doors to the main lobby, which was surprisingly clean. Almost no dead bodies, and the few that did exist were placed into the corners of the room. Y/n rushed to the bodies and began to search for Samuel. None of the bodies matched.

Caleb was dashing from room to room. His adrenaline was causing the pain to be a mild discomfort. He needed to escape. He need to save atleast one of his friends. As he ran he was replaying all his memories of Y/n, Samuel, Violet David, and Sarah in his mind. They pulled him out of the roughest place in his life and saved him, and now because one of his friends happened to be a monster; he was going to lose them. He needed to save Y/n, whatever Violet had planned for them was not something they deserved. He might also be able to save Samuel, but he wouldn't get his hopes up until he saw them.

Violet called after him as he ran

Violet:"Caleb, this is all your fault! If you hadn't scared Y/n off, you would still be able to live. We would have welcomed you as well. Your death and Samuel's is on your hand."

Caleb ignored the taunts and continued to run, before he entered a bathroom. The bathroom didn't have a way to escape, so he turned back to the guest room he was just in and suddenly went pale. His adrenaline immediately cut off, and the pain came in full force. Standing infront of him was Violet. Violet and a grey wolf. There were atleast 2. Atleast he would die knowing Y/n made it out.

Y/n grew worried as the minutes passed by. They didn't know how long it had been, but they were sure it was more than 5 minutes. They knew Caleb told them to run, but they couldn't. Not until he got back. There was 2 exits, so if they needed, Y/n could rush out if one of the werewolves appeared. After a few more minutes, with Y/n growing more and more worried, they noticed a clock. It was almost morning. Only a few hours until the sun would be up. Hopefully that transforms the werewolves back into their weaker forms, like the stories say.

Suddenly they heard footsteps and cackling. Y/n looked towards the hallway entrance and saw two werewolves, one grey and one brown, werewolf appear. They were carrying the corpse if Caleb and slowly munching on it. They saw Y/n as they entered, and both their lights lit up. Y/n turned to run, but was quickly tackled by the grey werewolf.

Y/n looked up at it and pleaded with defeat

Y/n:"please kill me quickly atleast."

A familiar voice came out of the werewolves mask and Y/n looked at it with a feeling of betrayal.

Samuel:"we aren't going to kill you, silly. Although it is to late to turn you and welcome you into the family. We have to do that next year, but don't worry. We won't harm a hair on your head."

Suddenly a white furred werewolf walked in, towering over the other 2. The others acknowledged it, and began to speak.

Violet:"sorry alpha, I got to occupied chasing Caleb. He was able to allude me for a while. I didn't know he would survive his wound."

Samuel:"I apologize as well. I was to focused on finding survivors that I didn't think to search the main lobby for Y/n."

The white werewolf addressed them both and as soon as he opened his mouth; Y/n's brain completely imploded.

David:"it is not that big of an issue. I knew it would be a long shot to both get then and turn them by the time limit, especially with so many people. That is why we built that special room for them in our den after all. You two have not failed me, you got me my beloved."

He then turned to Y/n

David:"I know this must be shocking and traumatizing for you. Do not worry, my beloved, that shall pass. None of us shall harm you further than the mental harm we caused today, and you shall forget all of this soon enough. I shall explain our motives as well, nod if you can hear me."

Y/n, with tears in their eyes, glared up at David.

David sighed, but continued.

David:"not exactly a nod, but you can clearly hear me. We have been friends since elementary school, friends longer than you have even known anyone else. I grew to love you, and while it may seem obsessive to you, it is natural for my kind to stalk and be protective of our loved ones. Especially when they aren't the same as us. Over time I noticed that you would not be safe all the time with just me watching you, so I decided to find others. I was born a werewolf, the others were chosen by me and turned. Violet was the first and was chosen due to her popularity and loyalty. Samuel was soon after, he was obsessed with the myth of the werewolves and; when he found me during a hunt in his parents woods, surrendered his flesh to me. I gave him the chance to be part of the pack."

He paused, allowing Y/n to follow and register what he was saying

David:"after I found them I left my parents pack. We created a den in Samuel's forest, and I have been keeping you safe ever since. I prevented you from being kidnapped a few years ago. Samuel prevented you from being mugged while you walked home a few weeks ago, and violet kept you away from bad influences. We all adore you, but you will be my betrothed. You will be the Luna of the group, the spouse of the Alpha. Your word will only be rivaled by mine. Until then, you shall remain human. I have gotten a bunch of your hobbies, interests, and some nice furniture. You will be kept in your new room until it is time to turn you, but you will be entertained, fed, and doted on by me. Once you turn, you shall gain your freedom."

Y/n mustered the courage to speak after David finished his explanation

Y/n:"why did you kill Sarah? Why did you kill Caleb?"

David sighed once more and began to explain

David:"we offered Sarah to join us before we killed her. She refused. Caleb was a bad influence on you, however if he gave you up we would have also allowed him to join. It was their choice to die. We did not wish to kill them, but we will always prioritize you. Them being alive kept us from having you."

David nodded to Violet, whom turned to Y/n.

Violet:"don't worry, when you wake up you will be comfortable and safe."

Violet began to walk towards Y/n, who began to struggled under Samuel. Violet smiled apologetically, before shoving a pill down their throat. Violet quickly covered their nose and mouth and began to coo at them.

Violet:"just relax and swallow. You will be safe, I promise."

After a few moments, Y/n swallowed the pill. The group all waited as Y/n grew sluggish and fell asleep. David walked over an picked them up.

David:"they are so adorable when they sleep."

[ultrainstinctslasher]

You Can Know Ch. 1

Michael Myers x Reader

Notes: Short beginning. Hopefully the chapters get longer

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Buzzing. Beeping. Chattering. Doors sliding open. Doors sliding closed. Whispers. Screams. 

The place was full of noise. It was always too loud. He never liked it. Never liked hearing the machinery, the nurses and doctors walking and talking, whispering about him or the other patients, the patients screaming and shouting and crying. Even the sound of the nurse's pen scribbling on the paper bothered him. But he made sure he never showed. That no one knew what bothered him.

Dr. Samuel Loomis had done him a great favor isolating him from the rest of the hospital, keeping him locked in his room with limited staff interaction, not allowed to leave his room unless guards were at his side. It wasn’t because of his sensitivity to noise. After all, Loomis knew nothing of Michael Myers. He made sure of it. Rather, the doctor was convinced that Michael was ‘evil.’ That he had the ‘Devil’s Eyes.’

Loomis’ perception of Michael was not just. Throughout Michael’s stay in the hospital, he had not killed, hurt, or defied anyone at the hospital. But had also not spoken, expressed or interacted with anyone. But Michael did not care about the title given to him. What he truly cared about belonged only for him to know.

Michaels room was bland and empty. The walls were blank and white. It smelt of metal and medicine. The bed had one pillow and one blanket, both flattened through years of use. A small washroom with no shower attached by a curtained door frame. They didn’t even give him a door. He could do something dangerous. There was a small desk with a chair to match, neither quite big enough for Michael to sit in comfortably. On the desk, there were some books given to Michael from Loomis to see if they would interest him. They did not, and stayed untouched where they were left. His desk once held some crayons and pencils along with some paper for him to use. He used them, though not frequently. He made sure no one knew he did. He did not like people to know. They were taken away. Too dangerous. He could hurt someone.

He didn’t have a dresser like most of the patients did. He was given his clothes before the short showers he was allowed to take. Michael thought about it sometimes, how he wasn’t given one. Were they worried that he would use it to hurt someone? But they had given him a table. Michael concluded that they did not care about him. Other than the bed, desk, and chair, Michael’s room was completely empty. He had seen the other patients room’s when he walked past them. They had more things. They can leave their rooms.

Michael couldn’t do much. Even if he could, he wouldn’t. He would wake up, take the occasional shower when they would take him to the washrooms, and sit on his too small of a chair looking towards the wall. Sometimes the guards would take him to talk to Dr Loomis. He did not have a window. Not one looking outside. Along with less possessions, Michael was also given less privacy. While others’ rooms were closed off completely, only unlockable by the patients themselves or the staff during emergencies, Michaels’ room had a wide window on the wall facing the hall. People could see him when they walked past the hallway. He did not like that. He doesn’t want people to see him.

Not many people passed the hallway. He was the only patient residing there. Only certain nurses came into his room, along with the guards and Loomis. A couple more people passed the hallway but never interacted with him. Dr. Loomis’ other patients. His office was at the end of the hallway. It was not an accident that he was so close. The other patients did not like looking at his eyes. No one did. He didn’t like them looking at him. But he liked seeing them feel scared. It felt right. Most of the time he was facing the wall. But sometimes he liked to face the window.

Loomis’ patients decreased the more Michael stayed under his care. At first, it was because he wanted to dedicate more time to studying him. Then it was because he became more stressed, more tired. Michael knew all of Loomis’ patients. Not their names, their faces. There are not many. He knows when they come. He also knows that not all of them live here. Not all of them are caged like he is, like the other patients are. They were free. They would look at him crudely. They knew what he did. They heard rumors. Patients did as well, but they were scared of him. They wouldn’t look at him like that. They would not look at him. Those who did not live here also did not wear a uniform.

There was one patient he really focused on. She did not come very often. She came once every month, on the third Thursday. He knew that. She was from outside the hospital, but never looked at him like the others did. The first time he saw her, she took a glimpse at the glass, then turned when she realized someone was there. Was she scared of him? Or did she not want to invade his privacy? She did not look scared. The second time he saw her, she looked at him with sympathy. As if she did not wish for him what he had. Did she know what he did? She probably does. He heard the nurses say that everyone in the state knew. 

He did not like the look. It was new. It made him feel odd. But he didn’t hate you. He did not like you either. He never felt like gouging your eyes out when you saw him, but he still did not want you to look at him. There were times where you did not come. He did not like that even more.

Nurses have been nosier around him lately. More careless. They knew his court date was near. They knew he was leaving soon, either to a new facility or to jail. Michael did not like that. He did not like the extra noise.

Michael did not like people knowing. And so he won’t let them know.