#this isn’t something a Pap smear would find but still | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingabouteverything · 3 years

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The Perfect White Flower--and Other Nonexistent Things

a/n YALL THIS IS PROBABLY DUMB BUT I HAD THIS IDEA ABOUT A HARRY STYLES X READER FIC THATS BASED ON THE PLOT OF JANE THE VIRGIN AND I WANTED TO WRITE IT SO BADLY I MADE THIS ACCOUNT

disclaimer--wont follow the show exactly

Pairing: Harry Styles x latina! reader (a key factor of the show revolves around the lead being latina, and im latina and honestly love writing for us but anyone can still read and understand/hopefully enjoy and the fic doesn’t involve any physical descriptions:))

Series Summary: Y/n l/n has had the world figured out since she was a child. She won’t be a writer because it’s risky, she’ll just focus on school and becoming a teacher. She’s never been a child, because her mother had her at sixteen and hasn’t aged a single year since. That’s part of the reason the promise she made to her grandmother means so much to her--if she doesn’t have sex before marriage, her child will never have to grow up as quickly as she did. And Harry Styles is at the top of the world--his music has never been more successful, he has a lovely girlfriend, and he’s never been more in demand. He has everything in the world...except a child, and through a series of unbelievable events--y/n might be his only chance to have one. Ever.

Chapter One Summary: Who knew getting a pap smear on two hours of sleep and three cups of coffee was as bad as having unprotected sex?

There’s something dangerous about taking public transportation in LA. And no, I don’t mean it in the ‘there are bad people in the world’ type of way. I mean it in the ‘I live in one of the casual influencer, celebrity, tourist hubs of the world and each time I step onto the bus I find myself mesmerized by all the stories I see in them’ way. Kind of pathetic, I know, but sometimes a child with blonde pig tails or a woman streaming on instagram live will catch my eye and the urge to pull out my lap top and start something I’ll never finish.

I know that writing isn’t some kind of disease. But I can’t let myself fall in love with it the way I want to. There’s nothing wrong with writing a short story or two, but trying to write a novel? That’s impractical. It will distract me from school, from the four year plan I’m almost done with.

Sighing, I brave taking at my surroundings. I deserve this today, after the anonymous, rude costumer at the hotel today, I need positivity. No one is particularly inspiring. The bus stops and I watch out the window. At first the crowd is ordinary, and then i see them...paparazzi. Flashing cameras from all angles, grown men violating all rules of personal space. It never sits right with me, but I guess it’s just part of living in LA. The bus starts moving again. When it stops again, I see even more paparazzis, but their cameras aren’t flashing. Good for whoever escaped that.

The bus door opens and I snap my attention back to my computer screen. I rub my eyes as I stare at my word document. How is there more that needs to be edited? This professor is the harshest grader I’ve ever had, and my friend, Gisa, is kind for giving me even more notes. But I’m exhausted. Two tests and an essay due before 12:00. And it’s...11:38. Great--I have to upload it the second I’m at my doctor’s office and have WiFi again.

I spend some time highlighting and rewording sentences, and once I’m done I reward myself with more people watching because I deserve it and I can’t fall asleep here. I’m kind of invested in the girl live streaming her bus ride...maybe she’ll say her instagram handle.

But when I look up, she’s not on the bus anymore. Almost no one is. An elderly couple is sitting towards the back. A woman with a toddler sit two rows in front of me...and there’s now a man directly across from me. I blink for a moment, imagining a story for someone who’s face I can’t quite see beneath such dark sun glasses. His dark waves and strong jaw do most of the imagining for me--he deserves a mystery, a dramatic one with a happy ending and just enough romance to keep the people interested. A good romance, too--not too sappy. Enemies to lovers, maybe. A mysterious stranger that’s not really a stranger because something about him is just...familiar.

He turns his head and I drop my gaze immediately. There’s no doubt he caught that, but I still pretend to edit the title of my essay. “You’ve been typing stubbornly since I first got on the bus.” There’s an accent--of course he’s english. But it’s more than that, I’ve heard that voice before. I’ve been...soothed by it. And--oh my god, I’m sitting across from Harry Styles.

Okay, don’t freak out. Don’t freak him out. He’s probably on here to escape the the whole ‘oh my god, you’re Harry Styles!’ thing.

“What are you writing?” Harry Styles just spoke to me. I greeted my one direction poster every single day in middle school, and Harry Styles just spoke to me. Okay--relax, breathe--it’s only weird if you make it weird.

There’s a kind of curt curiosity to his question. He could have been ruder, considering how blatantly I was staring at him. “I um...an essay.” I’m temped to turn the screen so that he can see I’m telling the truth. Though he wasn’t hostile, a part of me is paranoid that he thinks I am writing about him. It’s a fair assumption, for all he knows I’m drafting a tweet about who I saw on the bus this morning or preparing to send something in to some gossip girl-esque blog. “It’s due today at noon and normally I’m way more on top of things, but I had this last minute doctor’s appointment rescheduling because my usual doctor is out of town and--” I cut myself off before I can tell Harry Styles that I’m ovulating and that if I don’t go to my OBGYN now, I have to wait an entire month and I’ve already been off birth control longer than I’d like. I might not have actual sex in my near future, but my cramps have been extra terrible. “An essay, I just finished an essay.”

He nods once. Maybe he feels bad for so thoroughly startling me into such a rambling, because the corner of his mouth tilts upwards. A soft smile adds even more grace to his features, I focus on the dimple that appears in his cheek. “An aggravating essay, I take it, considering the death glares you’ve been giving your laptop screen.”

I smile at his polite humor. “It’s for the harshest grader on campus. She took three points off of my first essay freshman year because I spaced my bibliography wrong.”

He cringes in sympathy. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” I hum, proud of myself for not letting him know that I know who he is. The bus stops, I can see my doctor’s office behind a few paparazzi. “This is my stop.”

Harry nods once, ducking his head slightly. A tiny part of me feels sympathy for him; from what I’ve gathered, he genuinely loves his fans and the relationship they have, but it must be draining to never have a moment of privacy. Especially when it’s people who care more about selling your picture than your mental health.

I linger on the bus’s step, watching the men with large cameras look around. “Excuse me, are you guys looking for Harry Styles?” Most of the men disregard me, but one looks at me. “I know he’s near here because I’m a really big fan and my friend just texted that she saw him.” This gets me the attention I wanted. “He’s at Northfield--a cafe like three blocks down. I just know that if she got a picture with Harry in like a magazine or something she’d totally lose it--in a good way, and she’s been having a bad time so if you see her can you try to make it happen? Knowing her she’ll be at his side, she’s blonde, shortish hair.”

The men seem skeptical, but I guess they realize that this is the best lead they have. I think the fact that I gave a reason to justify selling Harry out for no reason helped. They disperse together, heading at least three blocks away from Harry. I don’t know if I’ve actually helped him, but I hope I have.

“Essay girl.” I freeze, half cringing. Did he hear that? That’s embarrassing. I consider darting away, but decide that would just make me cringe more. So I turn on my heels. “You...you forgot your phone.”

He just saved my life. “Thank you.” I take my phone from his outstretched hand, ignoring the slight thrill that runs through me when our fingers brush. “You’re my hero--the last thing I needed today was to run all over the city searching for my phone.” I finish the awkward admission with a partial laugh.

“Least I could do,” he mumbles, “especially considering what you just did.”

...He did see that. “Oh um--it was nothing, I just kind of made a connection and assumed the only reason you’d be on a public bus is because you were trying to avoid some things, and you make really great music and a lot of people happy, so you deserve that break.” Why does it feel like I’ve been talking forever? “Anyways, thanks for the whole phone thing, and I hope I got them off your tail.”

My joke seems to somewhat land. His lips part, like he’s planning on saying something else. A timer on my phone interrupts him. I instinctually look down--great, the alarm on my phone warning me that I’m only ten minutes away from being late. “I’m late.” I turn towards the bus’s exit. “I gotta go, but thanks again, and I hope you have a good day.”

I disappear after that, still not sure that that whole thing wasn’t some kind of hallucination. Did I just meet Harry Styles? He...he gave me my phone. Harry Styles has touched my phone. I can’t wait to tell Gisa, she’ll lose it.

I’m still thinking about Harry Styles when I finally reach my OBGYN’s office. When I get there, things are a lot more hectic than I thought they’d be. Many people crowd the waiting area and the receptionist’s desk is clearly understaffed. Two young girls are trying to address multiple upset pregnant women and take phone calls at the same time, all while practically buried in a sea pf paperwork. Wow, I didn’t realize that transferring was such chaos. One of the girls waves me over and barely checks my name before shoving a form towards me. I fill out as quickly as possible.

I upload my essay quickly after checking in. Who knows, maybe Harry Styles’s blessing will get me an A? A third person in scrubs emerges from the back after a moment and ushers me into a room. I tell myself to focus on going over the facts I need for the test I have to take in a little over an hour. Or to focus on the fact that I just met Harry Styles. But instead, I feel my heavy eyelids fall shut.

I don’t know how long I sleep, but I know that I wake up during the middle of a doctor’s sentence, “...I know I’m not your usual, so I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Hm...Yeah, yeah I’m comfortable.” She nods once, her wide eyes slightly red. “But I do have a class today in like an hour, so I was wondering if this was going to take longer because of the office’s move?”

“Oh, no,” she shakes her head. “Just because Dr. Rodriguez gave us no notice before deciding that she no longer wanted to work here...or in the country. Or even live in the US, despite the fact that we just signed a lease on a place together...” Tears well in the stranger’s eyes, pity settles in my stomach.

“That sounds incredibly complicated, I didn’t mean to rush you.”

She blinks twice, her expression blanking as she fights against the pain of what’s clearly a terrible break up. “No, no--you have every right. Today is your day and if..honestly, if you’re strong enough to go to a class after this, and do what you’re about to do by yourself, then I’m strong enough to get through today.”

Um...didn’t realize a pap smear counted as something that needs moral support, but I’ll chalk it up to her heightened emotions. “Thanks.”

She snaps on her medical gloves. “No, thank you for your patience. Now lay down.”

I do as told, preparing for a sensation I haven’t often experienced. A moment passes and I know she’s started. She’s moving away from me much faster than expected. Oh--I guess pap smears are a lot shorter than I expected.

“That’s it?”

“Yep,” she hums, pulling her gloves off. “Now just take it easy, and hydrate.”

Weird...but that’s like general doctor advice. “Thanks!”

I’ve never wanted to keep a secret from Gisa, but sometimes I really regret telling her I met Harry Styles. It’s been almost a month and I find my mind wandering back to the moment in which our fingers brushed more than I should. Sometimes I let myself wonder what he might have said if my phone hadn’t rang. I was probably just imagining the way his lips parted, but my ind refuses to let it go.

“...You know it’s kind of sad, I read an interview in which he spoke about the fact that he has some genetic condition that makes it hard to have kids. He has so many godchildren, and I feel like he’d make such a great father.”

I try to keep up with Gisa’s words, but the dull ache in my head makes it feel so far away. “Yeah...he seemed really patient.”

Gisa nods, turning to face me. “You alright, you’re looking kinda green?”

“Yeah...” I reach for my canvas bag. “I think I just...I probably just need some water.”

My hand grazes the metal of my water bottle and then the corners of my vision blur into blackness. I sway, Gisa’s hand is on my shoulder...and then it all goes black.

I sit uncomfortably on the hospital’s cot. Gisa is a traitor for telling my mom that I fainted. I knew she’d just drag me here--hispanic mothers, they either believe they can cure you with vic’s vapor rub or they want you in the ER. No in between.

“I know you didn’t want another test, but you’ve been throwing up in the morning for days and now you’re fainting.”

“Fainted,” I correct, “it happened once.”

“C’mon, mija, it’s just one doctor’s appointment.”

Speaking of, an ER nurse returns. “Fainting and nausea spells explained,” he says, glancing at his clipboard, “you’re pregnant.”

My mom and I can’t help but exchange a look before bursting into laughter. Pregnant. If I’m pregnant then the second coming is here. “That’s impossible, I’m a virgin.”

He glances at my mom, “maybe we should have this conversation in private.”

“No, what you say in front of me you can say in front of my mom.”

My mom raises an eyebrow. “Y/n, did you and that guy from your english class--”

“No! No, we did not. I am a virgin and there’s no way I’m pregnant.” I glare at the nurse.

He then ushers me to a bathroom so that I can provide a urine sample. After I’m finished, he shows me a pregnancy test strip. “Pink means pregnant.” I bite my tongue as he tests the strip in my sample. He pulls it out and it’s...it’s bright pink.

“I’m calling my doctor, because this has to be a mistake. It has to be like a hormonal thing.”

“Exactly, pregnancy hormones.”

I glare even harder, calling the doctor that I saw last week. “Hello, Dr. Ash? I was wondering if I could get a consultation because I’m in the ER and some crazy doctor is trying to tell me I’m pregnant.”

Silence on the line for a long second. “...I actually cleared my calendar for you.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #jane the virgin #jane the virgin AU #lot #hslot st louis

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

Text

My Side

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Bang Chan (SKZ)

Warnings: language, lots of smut, prostate massage, fluff, some mentions of angst (but it’s very minimal)

Genre: Marriage AU

Word Count: 4K

Summary: Y/N has had her entire future planned out ever since she could remember: step one- graduate college (done), step two- find a good-paying job (done), step three- marry someone she adores (done), and step four- have kids (???). She understands that life is full of obstacles, but is it too much to ask for your husband to finally knock you up?

A/N: Big apology to this anon user who requested this and had to wait like 8 billion years for me to finish it.

The fertility clinic was unusually cold, and I found myself shivering in direct contradiction with the sweltering summer heat collecting outside of the office building. Maybe that was the point: the doctors wanted to keep you totally alert while you waited for what seemed like hours for a standard routine visit. Because I could’ve already fallen asleep at this point - taking advantage of my day off from work to do something other than fret over the working condition of my reproductive system.

Of course, there was also the issue of my grumpy husband who had been thoroughly displeased when he found out exactly what a pap smear test implied. “He was totally checking you out when we came in,” Chan said. “Then, he insisted on sticking that thing up your vagina?”

“Oh, give it a rest, Chan,” I said. “I knew they would do that before I even came here.”

“I think he just wanted to look at your pussy,” Chan insisted. “And he did it right in front of me like I didn’t even exist!”

“You weren’t forced to stay in the room,” I pointed out, which I would’ve preferred but Chan insisted on standing over me like some kind of jealous observer who actually wanted to watch such an intimate procedure.

“Yeah, he would’ve preferred that,” Chan said, leaning further back in his chair. “How the hell is this even supposed to help us? We’ve only been trying for a few months.”

“Well, I want to make sure everything is working properly,” I said, and (just to spite him) I glanced down at his crotch. “What if you’re having performance issues, honey?”

“My dick works just fine,” Chan insisted. “But you know what? I think it’s partially your fault that we can’t pregnant. You’re putting too much pressure on him and it’s hard for me to focus.”

“Him?” I questioned with a grin. "Do you really want to personify your penis?”

“That’s not the point!” Chan exclaimed. “Did you even hear me, Y/N?”

“But what is the point, Chan? What exactly are you having trouble focusing on?” I asked. “We’re talking about fucking, not a tax audit. Keep the office out of our bedroom.”

“You don’t think I know the difference?”

“Apparently not since it requires more effort than necessary for you to orgasm,” I screeched, barely getting the words out before the doctor’s return.

Immediately, Chan and I were both forced smiles, pretending like we weren’t just having a pointless argument. “Well,” the doctor said. “Everything is fine on your end, Mrs. Bang. I guess that means we can perform some tests on your husband.”

“Oh, that would be great,” I said, even as Chan shifted restlessly from next to me. “Is there anything you need?”

“We’d like to ask you for a sperm sample,” the doctor replied while handing Chan a clear, transparent plastic cup that he accepted with obvious hesitation. “I’ll give you some time.”

“Thank you,” I said, looking over at Chan who was glaring at the cup as if personally offended by its presence.

But at least he waited until the doctor was gone before looking at me with wide eyes. “What do I do?” Chan asked, holding up the plastic cup while appearing thoroughly taken aback.

“It’s just masturbating,” I hissed at him.

“They want me to jerk off into this cup?” Chan gasped like the idea was so totally perplexing to him.

“How else will they get a sperm sample?” I asked him, rolling my eyes because I was growing impatient.

But Chan still hesitated, using one hand to hold the cup while his other traveled down to the front of his jeans. “Do I just...”

“Yes!” I shouted while standing up from my chair. “It’s nothing hard, Chan, you’ve been masturbating since 9th grade!”

“Yeah, but it’s embarrassing to do it here,” Chan argued, and I sighed for what had to be the thousandth time that day.

“There’s a curtain for privacy,” I said, reaching for my bag from the floor. “I’ll be waiting outside until you’re done.”

“Y/N!” Chan whined, but I left without another word, hoping that Chan could get his shit together because I was exhausted and the prospect of the bed waiting for me at home was suddenly everything that I wanted.

It turned out that Chan and I were both perfectly healthy, and there should be nothing impeding my ability to finally get pregnant. Chan even managed to smile after our doctor complimented his sperm because they were powerful swimmers or whatever the hell that meant. But that had also been hours ago, and after a well-deserved nap, I was feeling exceptionally horny. Thankfully, Chan was never the type to turn down sex, and a few innocent kisses had turned into a full-blown pornography session within moments of me circling my hips against the front of his jeans.

“Fuck me, Chan,” I said, and he nodded eagerly as we both helped each other escape the obstacle of our clothes.

“You should apologize to my dick first,” Chan said teasingly when he had me spread open in front of him, fisting his cock as he started jerking himself off.

“What? Why?”

“You questioned my performance earlier,” Chan said with a shit-eating grin. “Maybe my cock isn’t good enough for you.”

“It’s fine,” I said, whining when I tried to wrap my hand around the base of his erection, only to have Chan knock it away with a sharp growl. "Alright!” I groaned. “I’m sorry I questioned your all-powerful shaft, okay? So, can you please just fuck me already?”

Chan chuckled at my easy compliance, and he ran his thumb across the slit of his cock before positioning himself at my wet entrance. “Remember that next time, Y/N,” he said, exhaling shakily when he started to push inside.

“Shit!” I cried, reaching out for his broad shoulders as I held on as tight as possible for the ride waiting ahead of me.

“Such a tight cunt,” Chan remarked, pausing a moment to grind himself against my insides just to feel the pressure around his cock.

“Go faster,” I requested, throwing my head back when he complied, smacking his hips into mine as he searched for the perfect angle to leave me seeing stars.

“Yeah?” Chan purred, and he started thrusting faster than before, dragging his cock against the pulsating walls of my cunt, forcing more arousal to leak out around him. “Look at how good you always take my cock, baby.”

I reveled in the praise, craning my neck to the side just so that I could watch him disappear inside of me over and over again to match the sensation of his thick cock filling me up so well that it was almost mind-numbingly good. The best part was the pleasing sound of Chan’s moans, and I admired the way that he held himself up over me so that his muscles were practically bulging as he rolled his hips with seductive grinds. Meanwhile, I was drooling over the visual of his bulging biceps, whining underneath him because Chan was being unusually rough. Not that I would ever complain since every thrust managed to brush the tip of his cock perfectly against my cervix.

But it was only after Chan reached down to add a finger to the already tight fit of his cock inside my pussy that I remembered something that I had read on the internet as part of my endless pregnancy research. My eyes flew open at the reminder, and the lustful haze surrounding my sex-addled brain quickly vanished. “Hold on, Chan,” I said, pushing against his chest and disrupting the steady rhythm he had been maintaining.

“W-what?” Chan stuttered, pulling out while watching me roll over onto my stomach.

“This is a better position,” I said, raising my ass high into the air before giving him a teasing wiggle.

“Whatever,” Chan grunted, still too gone in his pleasure to care that much about my shenanigans. He immediately caged me in with his thighs, fumbling with his erect cock before aligning the tip with my aching cunt. I was relieved when he started jostling his cock back where it belonged, meandering in elegant strokes that resulted in the best friction.

“Make sure you come,” I told him while decorating the pale skin of his shoulders with nail marks as I reached behind me.

“You first,” Chan insisted, and my heart warmed at his selflessness even while it felt like all the blood inside of me was rushing south, moving through my veins and spilling over with a rapid descent that left me seeing white while Chan moved even quicker, thrusting like a man deprived.

I felt him come only moments later with the familiar heat that I had grown to appreciate more and more over the last few months. Thereafter, I immediately reached for a pillow from behind me, wincing at the sensitivity that lingered between my legs. “What are you doing?” Chan asked when he collapsed on the bed next to me.

“It’s supposed to help,” I said, raising my hips to place the pillow directly underneath me. “This article said that raising your legs after sex can improve your chances.”

“That seems ridiculous, Y/N,” Chan said.

“Hey! Blame your sperm,” I countered. “It’s not my fault they need an extra boost.”

“My sperm are just fine,” Chan grunted. “You heard the doctor. They’re excellent swimmers.”

“This is just a precaution,” I told him, sighing in relief when I reached down to cup my heat, ensuring that all of Chan’s cum stayed inside where it belonged.

For the past several weeks, work had become something of a chore that I was forced to endure on a regular basis. It was often a struggle to force my way through piles of paperwork or tedious emails that always said much of the same thing. After a while, I would find myself glaring at the clock because I was quite certain that time was moving slow for the sole purpose of annoying me.

There was also the issue of dealing with my colleagues, especially the ones who liked to gossip and had effectively made a whole thing out of my failed attempts at pregnancy. “Oh, Y/N,” they would tell me. “It’s been three months, hasn’t it?”

Like they didn’t have anything better to do with their lives besides meddle in mine. But the worst of them all were the ones who decided that they were some kind of authority figures and tried to give me helpful “advice.” Everything from the shit that I had already heard from my doctor and the articles online, to bizarre practices that left me wondering where they found their information.

My manager’s personal assistant was a frequent advocate. She was far more insistent than the rest of them because she already had two kids at home who she described as future Mozarts in the making. And because she had already been successful (twice, I might add), she always sat next to me at lunch with a new suggestion that supposedly guaranteed fertilization.

“It could be that he’s under too much pressure,” she told me before biting into her salad.

“I’m asking him to have sex with me, not invent a new computer,” I grumbled.

“Yeah, but I’m sure you’ve both been having a lot of sex, which might seem like a good idea,” she continued. “But it might actually turn out to be far worse.”

“What do you suggest then? Should I kick him out of the bedroom for a week or two?” I snarked, but she was hardly bothered by my sarcastic attitude.

“My husband and I tried stimulating him more directly,” she explained. “Maybe you could try it out.”

“How so?”

“It’s something like a prostate massage,” she revealed in a hushed tone as if it was top-secret information. “There’s all kinds of information about it on the internet.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said, wanting nothing more than to brush aside her words, but maybe I was too desperate because I found myself skimming through countless articles after lunch, soaking in the vast amounts of information that I uncovered.

And I left the office that day with a new strategy in mind to surprise my husband.

The moment I first walked through the door, I was yanking off my jacket and calling for Chan who ducked his head out of our bedroom. “Why the hell are you yelling?”

“Because I have a wonderful idea,” I said, practically skipping over to him and offering him a deep kiss.

“Y/N,” Chan murmured against my touch, grabbing my shoulders to pull me back. “What are you going on about?”

“Just take your stupid clothes off,” I said, skirting past him into the bedroom. “I want you naked on the bed.”

“You’re already horny?” Chan chuckled, but he made no protest of yanking his shirt over his head.

“I want to try something,” I told him, opening the door to our closet to search for something that we hadn’t used together in a long time.

“Should I be afraid?” Chan asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as he fisted his half-hard erection.

“Not if you have an open mind,” I said, turning around to hold up the bottle of lube, and Chan’s smile instantly vanished.

“What’s that for?”

“Well, tonight I’m using it on you,” I said, laughing at the way his forehead creased in confusion. “My co-worker actually made a pretty useful recommendation today.”

“Okay?...” Chan trailed off with an expression of perfect concentration - like he was doing his absolute best to understand.

“The internet called it prostate milking,” I explained, biting my lower lip to keep myself from laughing at the horrified expression on Chan’s face. “I want to stimulate your prostate.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” Chan asked.

“Look, it has a lot of medical benefits,” I said. “Plus, I read that it can feel really good.”

Chan squired anxiously on the bed when I sat down next to him, and I could see that his cock was perfectly flaccid between his legs. “I don’t know, Y/N-”

“Don’t worry,” I interrupted him. “This is perfectly normal. Now, be a good boy for me and get on your hands and knees.”

Chan frowned. “Good boy?” he grumbled before obeyed my command, crawling his way up the bed to position himself in the way I had suggested.

“There we go,” I said, softly running a hand down his spine.

“So far, I’m not impressed,” Chan muttered.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” I said, situating myself behind him before palming his ass. “This looks better than I remember, Channie.”

“Yeah, I guess the squats helped,” Chan said, and he flinched when I snapped a glove in place over my right hand. “What’s that for?”

“You think I’m gonna mess around your ass without a glove?” I snorted. “That’s not very hygienic.”

“Hygienic, yeah, okay,” Chan huffed, and he let out a noise somewhere between a whine and a grunt when I opened the bottle of lube and drizzled some on my fingertips.

“Hold still,” I said, trying to get him to relax when my finger started circling his asshole, pushing against the tight muscle which wasn’t so easy to penetrate. However, with enough perseverance, I forced one finger inside and heard Chan release a rather unattractive sound.

“How does it feel?” I asked him, trying to move my finger around like I had read online.

“It just feels like you’ve shoved your finger up my ass,” Chan snapped, and I knew not to take it personally since he wasn’t so willing to go along with my crazy scheme in the first place.

“Don’t be so tense,” I said, rubbing my hand along his lower back. “Should I use more lube?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, Y/N,” Chan groaned, and I could tell that he was growing frustrated.

I was also losing confidence - wondering if this had been a bad idea because it definitely wasn’t as easy as my co-worker promised. Plus, I could tell that Chan was uncomfortable, squirming around under me while his cock hung limply between his legs. Clearly, he wasn’t finding any pleasure from this, and maybe it was entirely my fault for jumping into this without more preparation.

“Shit, Chan,” I said, removing my finger while releasing a sigh. “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have done this.”

I cleared my throat, feeling increasingly anxious when Chan refused to respond to my apology. He was still supporting himself on his hands in front of me, chest heaving up and down with each breath. I could see that the bright red tint to his ears betrayed his embarrassment and that only made me feel worse because the last thing I wanted to do was make this bad for him.

Eventually, Chan rolled off to the side of the bed, collecting his sweatpants from the floor before walking into the bathroom. I closed my eyes when the door slammed behind him, and I quietly left the bedroom to give Chan some privacy because it was obvious that he wasn’t pleased with the situation.

So much for my co-worker’s stupid suggestion.

However, in the grand scheme of things, I was always the first to recognize when my actions warranted reprimand.

After sleeping on the couch in the living room, I woke-up with a sore lower back and a guilty conscious. Chan had already left for work that morning, and he probably hadn’t paid me a single glance. But I probably deserved his wrath, which meant I would do everything that I could to make it up to him.

Consequently, I found myself flashing a bright smile at Chan’s office secretary who greeted me politely before calling Chan’s phone to see if he had some time to see me. There was a small part of me which worried that Chan might send me away because of last night’s events. Thankfully, his secretary waved me inside and I took a deep breath before opening the door while carrying the packed lunch I prepared for him.

Once inside, Chan offered me a cursory glance that only lasted a brief moment until his attention was once again focused on the file in front of him. “Channie,” I said, wincing at my shrill tone. “I brought you some lunch.”

I hesitated when Chan didn’t respond - walking over to his desk to carefully deposit the bag on his desk. I waited for a brief moment, but Chan refused to acknowledge me, which meant I needed to approach him more directly. “I’m sorry about last night, Channie,” I said, coming around his desk to perch myself on the edge. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m also sorry about the past few months because I’ve been so desperate to finally have my positive pregnancy test that I started to really neglect you.”

The pen Chan had been writing with stopped in the middle of whatever sentence he had been writing, and my husband finally allowed me the privilege of looking into his dark brown eyes. “It’s hard for me to stay mad at you, Y/N,” Chan said, and I nearly burst into tears at the simple declaration.

“You deserve to be mad at me,” I said. “I can’t believe you let me get away with acting like this. You should get the husband of the year award or whatever.”

Chan chuckled, tossing his pencil aside. “Sweetheart, I know how much this means to you, and I want it just as much, but maybe it would be nice if we could be intimate sometimes without worrying about whether or not we’re following all those advice columns you read.”

“You’re right,” I agreed, and I pushed myself away from the edge of the desk and fell onto my knees in front of him - reaching out to grab his thighs between my hands. “What if I blew you right here in the office?”

Chan’s answering moan was enough to solidify my resolve, and I easily worked apart the belt fastening around his suit pants. My fingers worked with an experienced touch because this wasn’t the first time we had done something like this in his big executive office and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. “Fuck, Y/N,” Chan said, grabbing large handfuls of my hair while directing my lips closer to his exposed cock-head.

“Let me take care of you, darling,” I said, offering a tentative lick to his pulsating tip. Chan was already hard, and I gave him a few strokes with my hand before allowing my mouth to take care of the rest - opening wide to take him as deep as I could without gagging.

“Look at you,” Chan snarled, and his fingers traced the seam of my lips stretched obscenely around his cock.

I moaned around his erection, and Chan closed his eyes as he fingers tightened their hold - hips moving every so often to force his cock even further down my throat. But I’m sure it made for one hell of a visual, and I hollowed my cheeks as I ran my tongue across the distinct vein trailing along the underside.

“Keep going,” Chan said, and I could tell that he was close. And I started bobbing my head up and down, mimicking the same effect of his cock fucking my pussy, relaxing my throat and encouraging Chan to do whatever he needed to push himself over the edge.

He eventually came with an exaggerated groan, and I wrinkled my nose at the taste of him. Yet, I knew better than to let anything go to waste, and I struggled around the rawness of my throat as I swallowed - swiping my tongue around the head of his spent cock to clean up the excess.

“Was it good?” I asked him with a hoarse voice.

“Of course it was,” Chan replied, encouraging me off the floor and into his lap. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close as I listened to his heart slow back down to normal. “Thank you, Y/N,” he said, teasing his lips across mine. “You’re not gonna freak out over the fact that we just wasted my perfectly good semen?”

I rolled my eyes before playfully hitting his shoulder. “It’s never a waste if it makes you come like that.”

He smiled, bringing out the fullness of his dimples, and we sat together while Chan ate his lunch and I mindlessly talked about the latest office gossip. It was moments like these that I loved more than anything about my marriage to Chan - pregnancy be damned. Ironically, it was only a few weeks later that I found myself looking down at a thin white strip with a blue cross displayed across the surface: positive.

#stayverse #skzsmutnetwork #skzwriternet #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #skz scenarios #skz imagines #bang chan fanfic #chan fanfic #skz chan fanfic #bang chan smut #chan smut #skz smut #skz fluff #skz reader insert

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werevulvi · 3 years

Photo

I hope these show up in the right order. This kinda stuff is exactly what makes me feel lost about my transness. Like I was just trying to be nice and agreed with this person's post. I had no interest in being an asshole or arguing what bio sex, or even what butch, is. I was just declaring myself as a bio female because it felt relevant to the topic and how I relate to it. It amazes me how even the pro self-ID types are against self-ID when someone identifies in a way that doesn't suit their narrative, even when it's a trans person whose identity they deny.

They blocked me and I don't want anyone going after them, I just wanna rant. And not even about this specific post or person, but more so about trying to exist as a gender critical trans person in general. I've been thinking about that for days, weeks, perhaps months or even years already, so it's really not about this specific person. I guess it was just what triggered me to finally start writing.

I guess I feel like both most other trans people and most other gender critical people, view transness as incompatible with gender critical opinions, and like that makes me feel pulled in two opposing directions. But anyone of any ideology can be dysphoric and transition because it helps them cope. I don't think that my opinions, or my choice to hang out with radfems, means that I'm self-hating, or even that I'm going against the needs of my own trans demographic. My own trans demographic is just all too good at confusing wants with needs... generally speaking. I see sex and gender the way I do because it makes sense to me personally, and I don't even argue that it's necessarily the objective truth. I don't think there is such a thing. It's just my truth, my perception of the world.

That I can't make myself see myself as a man for real, despite my dysphoria and transition, doesn't mean that I think it's wrong to transition, or that my body is damaged by it, or that transitioning is useless. Because it's not. I love my transition and everything it has given me. I'm comfortable with my transitioned body. It deserves love, especially my love. And although I still struggle with some insecurities, I feel like I love my body. It's been... incredibly good to me. It's stayed very healthy, and even keeping up a strong immune system despite my smoking, self harm, careless sexual escapades, etc. I may still have a fraught relationship with being female, but as long as I transition, I seem to be managing it fairly well. Except then I have a more fraught relationship with society instead. Can't win, but that's life, innit?

I don't think either my transness or my political opinions are my real problem or ever was. I think it's society's constant fighting about trans people's genders, lives and choices, that makes me constantly cave in on myself. Can't handle the pressure.

It feels like it's only ever getting worse. Ten years ago my biggest concern was people not ever finding me attractive because I was turning myself into some kind of a freak, which luckily I was proven to be wrong about. Five years ago my biggest concern was nonbinary people trying to normalize asking people their pronouns, which made me fear that people would never leave me alone about my gender, unless I forced myself to be hyper-masculine, which I still worry about. Three years ago my biggest concern was having been stripped of my sex-based rights and dehumanized for how I had chosen to treat my dysphoria, which I still worry about as well, and now...

...my biggest concerns are being treated as a third gender, fetishistic predator who should be shoved away into gender neutral spaces, and I fear that one day medical transition will be taken away as an option to treat dysphoria if transness is continued to be rejected as a medical condition. My heart rate is ever increasing. Can I even realistically "just go on with my life" anymore? I feel compelled to do something, but I also feel like there isn't anything I can do. No matter how many people I try to "educate" about dysphoria and why transition is incredibly important, all the while being as humble as I can, I am seriously lacking behind the much faster spread of harmful misinformation.

Thing is, I do not blame gender critical people for spreading some of that misinformation. For example of trans women as fetishistic predators, which people apply to trans men when they still fail to understand that MtF is not the only kinda trans there is, or when we dare to be just a little bit feminine while passing as male. If anything, I blame the true sources of such harmful claims, which slowly increase my anxious heart rate, over years, turning into decades, of living as openly trans. I blame opportunistic men who pretend to be trans women for gaining access to women's spaces, be it prisons, spas, shelters, sports, what have you, when they cannot possibly be dysphoric judging by how happily they swing their dicks around women as if it's no big deal and make no attempt at transitioning, but also who cares if they are dysphoric, no one should behave that way either way. I blame the trans rights activists who say lesbians have to suck dick if it's attached to a trans woman, and those who say that gay men have to be into pussy and date trans men. I blame those who say that trans women are bio female by virtue of identifying as female, and claiming that they can get periods, by virtue of... bowel cramps?! I'd also blame those who try to change female specific language on behalf of shielding trans men from our own dysphoria, in the rare cases we'd end up getting pregnant or manage to drag our asses to the gyno office for a pap smear, which... most of us really don't, regardless of if you call us women or uterus-havers, sincerely, please stop. It makes people think trans women are trying to take over the term "woman" entirely for themselves, which of course they don't.

I could go on, but I won't, as this post is not about these things. It's more so about how estranged I feel from the people who spout these things, knowing that they think they're speaking for me and my supposed needs as a tranny. But I see no point in trying to educate them, as they won't listen any more to me than they would to a radfem, and again, I think this post in my screenshots shows just how unwilling they are to listen to me.

I guess living with my transition on constant display is what's hard, and I guess I just need to vent about that, as it's always judged one way or the other; as either me having made myself into a man, or that I'm a delusional woman who mutilated herself; and it's kinda hard to find a kind and sane middle ground, that perhaps I'm just a victim of circumstances, and trying to make the most of my own life, regardless of what the fuck I am. That social shit, on top of dealing with dysphoria, makes it really difficult to not hate myself, I guess. But I have tried to live stealth and that made it if possible even worse, as it felt like I was lying, keeping a huge secret that grew in me like a spreading virus.

What I want is to just live my life, and for neither my bio sex, nor my transition, to stop me from doing that. I want to work through the worst of my autism, enough to be able to pursue a career in some low-paying labor, blue-collar job; get a car and driver's licence, find a suitable husband to have a child and cats with; I want my own garden, an art studio; I want to build muscle to become strong and even more independent (and perhaps strong enough to carry that husband, but at least to carry myself), and so on. When I picture myself in that potential future, it is with this male-like appearance I transitioned my body into, but it is also as a mother and wife.

And thinking about all of that makes me happy, it makes me smile and feel joy, meaningfulness, hope... While thinking about arguing online with some miserable fuck, who's deadset on arguing semantics and calling me a terf, when all I wanted was to show a little bit of kindness, that "hey, I agree with you, you make a good point here, and I'm not here to fight" only to be spat right back into my face... just makes me feel sad. Whatever happened to diversity of opinion? It's gone, it became labeled as bad, and left people like me with no place to be.

There is no point in arguing with such people, or even trying not to argue. There's no winning in that, there's no reward, no accomplishment. It's better to walk away.

I know I just have to get over this, this inner conflict of going against my transness with my gender critical opinions, and that I'm going against my womanhood with my transition - and be stronger than the political climate that's pulling me into pieces. But if it's peace that I want... I can just forget about it. There's no road there. But I have trouble letting go of that simple dream. The internet is constantly manipulating me into thinking I have an exciting social life, when in fact it's non-existent, and the lie is destructive. With internet vs real life, I'm living a double life. One of those lives has a future, the other one does not.

I'm glad I made this rant. It actually made me feel better, and reminded me that it's still worth it. Being trans, moving forward, focusing on what is good and what can become good in life. And it reminded me that the internet is merely an imitation of life, a substitute for human connection, and can... as with much else, be both good and bad.

#discourse #venting #tired of being pulled in opposing directions #because im not the right kinda trans #or the right kinda feminist #i have to live with myself and i dont know how #focusing back on what actually matters in life #just thoughts #gender politics #ok to rb

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avengerscompound · 4 years

Text

The Surrogate - Chapter 8

The Surrogate: A Clintasha Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Word Count: 1789

Rating: E

Warnings: Pregnancy, talk of miscarriage, medical proceedures

Synopsis: A freak end of the world incident leads to meeting your two best friends, Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. While your friendship with the two Avengers is anything but conventional, they are your all-time favorite people. When you find out that Clint and Natasha want to start a family but have exhausted all their options, you realize your powerset might allow you to give them what they want. Having your best friends’ baby might seem like a good idea on paper, but when you are as close as you, Clint, and Natasha are, will doing something so intimate mean feelings get a little mixed up?

Chapter 8

Everyone had told you there was nothing to worry about. The embryo implantation was one of the easiest parts of the whole surrogacy process. No harder than a pap smear and there was nothing you needed to really worry about doing differently. You just had to wait and see if it worked. Yet, as you say in the chair with your feet in stirrups and the doctor crouched between your legs you were filled with intense anxiety.

It was strange really. Natasha seemed to have deployed the self-preservation technique of expecting the worst so she wouldn't be hurt when the worst happened. She'd gone in to have her eggs harvested saying there probably wouldn't be any. When she was told they were happy with the number they harvested, she decided that none would become viable embryos and when she was told they had at least five good looking embryos to implant, she decided that none of the three they were using would take. You assumed that if they did take she'd start saying there would be a miscarriage just to prepare herself for the potentially bad news.

Clint on the other hand seemed to be cheerily optimistic about it. You weren't sure if that was just his way of trying to balance Natasha out. He had his moments where he was so sure it was going to work that he'd start freaking out about the idea of being anyone's dad that seemed genuine. Otherwise, it did just seem like he was trying to get Natasha's head out of the dark cloud that was surrounding her.

You knew it was going to work. It had to. Everything made sense and this was going to happen and they were going to be parents and you were going to give that to them. You knew it was the truth, right down to your core. Yet, as you sat in the chair as vulnerable as you’ve ever been, you couldn’t help but think; what if you were wrong?

You clung to Natasha’s hand and she held it close to her chest as Clint stood with his arm wrapped around her waist, his eyes darting everywhere like he was trying not to look directly at your vag on display, as if he hadn’t been all up in it before.

“Okay,” the doctor said, pulling the catheter and then speculum out. “All done. You can get redressed. You don’t have to do anything special today. Take it easy but you shouldn’t just go home and get into bed. Get up. Walk around. Watch TV. Use the bathroom if you need to. Just no vigorous exercise.”

“Are you sure? There’s nothing we can do to increase the odds?” Clint asked.

She shook her head as she began to clean up. “Now it’s just a waiting game. But you’ll be back in two days for a blood test and we’ll know if it worked, so this stress of the unknown you’re all feeling will be over soon and you can hopefully have the stress of preparing for a baby instead.”

Clint laughed. “Yeah, that’s much better, isn’t it, Nat?”

Natasha forced a smile and you got up. “Make an appointment for two weeks for a blood test and when we know the result we’ll work out what appointment to make next.”

“Will, do,” Clint said. “Thanks, doc.”

I went and redressed and met Clint and Natasha out in the waiting room. “Alright?” Clint said.

“Yep,” you agreed.

“We made an appointment for two weeks,” Natasha said. The way she spoke was stiff and forced. Almost as if she was afraid that saying too much would cause the embryos to fail their implantation.

“Great,” you said, with a nod.

Clint slung his arm around your shoulders and pulled Natasha close. “Can I tell you both a secret?” He whispered conspiratorially as the three of you headed out to the hospital parking lot.

“What is it?” You asked.

“I hate being the together one,” he said. “Come on you two, let’s try not to think about it, and in two days we’ll know right?”

You nodded. “I just… I know this is going to work. This is what I do. But if I’m wrong, I don’t want to hurt either of you.”

“Oh, babe,” Clint sighed.

Natasha stopped walking and stepped in front of you, she looked directly into your eyes. The green of eyes seemed to pierce right into you. “If this doesn’t work, it’s not your fault. I’m not going to pretend it won’t hurt, because it will. But I will always be grateful that you even gave it a go. This is our only chance to have kids, and the fact you were willing to give it to us, however small it is, is the greatest gift anyone has ever given to me.”

By the time she had finished talking you were weeping. She pulled you into her arms and you buried your face in her neck. You felt an overwhelming urge to tell her you loved her but the fact you didn’t even know what that meant right now made you hold it back. Maybe it was just that you loved her because she was your best friend, but the more time you spent with her and Clint the more you felt it wasn’t just friends.

“Alright,” Clint said, rubbing both of your backs. “Let’s get easy-bake back home, we’ve got doctor's orders sloth happening. We don’t want to waste it.”

You spent the next couple of days taking it easy. You had taken the week off because of the doctor’s appointments taking up so much time. So you just caught up with tv shows and ate food that was probably very bad for you.

Two days later Clint and Natasha took you in for the blood test, and then you just went back to work as usual. Not that there was a lot going on. There were a few agents out in deep cover and Steve and Tony had some appearances to make. So for you, it was just honing your skills.

You were on the firing ranging trying to improve your accuracy with a handgun when you felt your phone vibrate. You flicked the safety on your gun and holstered it before answering. Unfortunately, the room was still full of the sound of gunfire and it wasn't until you got into the armory that you could hear the other person on the line.

“Shit, sorry,” you apologized. “Noisy room.”

The woman on the other end told you she was from the doctor's office and confirmed it was you as you bounce nervously from foot to foot and went about the procedure for locking your weapon back up while juggling your phone.

“We have the results of your pregnancy test,” the woman said.

“Yes,” you replied. “What…? Is it…? Am I…?”

“The results are positive,” she said. “Congratulations…”

The receptionist kept talking but you didn't hear anything past that point. It was all white noise as your excitement took you over and all you could think about was putting the god damned gun away so you could tell your best friends they were going to be parents.

“Sorry,” you said, quickly. “Sorry, what was that?”

“You were transferring your care to… Uh… The Avengers facility?” She repeated.

“Yes, right,” you said. “In-house.”

“Okay, well we’ll forward all the records on to them. You should have your first appointment in four weeks with an ultrasound. Then they'll go from there.”

“Thank you,” you babbled. “Yeah, thank you very much. I'll go speak to them.”

“You're very welcome,” she said. “Congratulations again.”

You disconnected the call and shoved your phone in your pocket as you hurriedly locked the gun back up and dashed out of the armory.

“FRIDAY,” you said as you sped out of the hallway and across the grounds. “Where are Natasha and Clint?”

“Agent Barton is training behind building C with Miss Bishop,” the AI replied. “And Agent Romanoff is in combat room three with Miss Maximoff.”

“Ah, shit,” you cursed, stopping dead in your tracks. They were in two different directions and if you went and collected Clint before you went to get Natasha, which would be the most logical thing to do, he'd just bug you for the results the whole way. “Tell them to come to the function room.”

You changed direction and headed to the main building. The top floor was a function room that was primarily where parties were held and contained a full bar. You took the elevator up and took out a bottle of champagne and hid it so it was sitting in the sink under a dish towel the foil already removed so you could easily pop the cork, and quickly poured yourself a drink that would look like a cocktail without being one using grenadine and orange juice.

You were sipping on the slightly too sweet drink when Natasha rushed into the room and stopped dead. Her eyes darted from your face to the drink in your hand and her face fell. Right away you regretted the ruse. “No, no, no,” you babbled, putting the glass down. Clint skidded into the room behind Natasha and stopped dead.

“What? What's going on? You got the results?” He asked looking around the room for some clue as to whether you were pregnant or not.

“I did,” you said, quickly trying to waylay the sadness that had struck Natasha so suddenly. “I am. Pregnant that is. You're going to be parents.”

“What?” Natasha said, blinking at you. “But the drink…?”

“It's orange juice and grenadine,” you said, getting out the champagne from the sink. “I got this out for the two of you to celebrate.”

“Oh my god!” Natasha exclaimed. “You little… I'm gonna kill you!”

“After the baby’s born right?” You asked as she and Clint approached you.

“Immediately after,” she said, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you close. Clint wrapped his arms around both of you and squeezed you both into a huge bearhug.

“Congratulations, guys,” you said, softly. “You're gonna be parents.”

“Thank you,” Natasha whispered.

The three of you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity before slowly pulling apart. Clint kept his hands on Natasha’s hips and you popped the cork on the champagne. “You guys should celebrate.”

Natasha looked up into Clint’s blue eyes and smiled. “Hey, Nat,” Clint said. “You're gonna be a mommy.”

Natasha made a soft sound and he leaned in and kissed her. You grabbed two glasses and poured the drink. Even though this was their moment and you planned to leave them to it, you couldn't remember ever feeling this happy before.

// NEXT

#natasha romanoff #clint barton #natasha romanoff x reader #clint barton x reader #clint barton x natasha romanoff #clint barton x natasha romanoff x reader #clintasha #clintasha x reader #black widow #hawkeye #black widow fanfic #hawkeye fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #pregnancy #the surrogate

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epochryphal · 4 years

Note

Ooh! Ooh! I know this one! The reason you still need chest examinations post-top surgery is that while most of the breast tissue is removed a small amount remains, and that this can still develop cancer! It's also an issue with certain, less dramatic cancer mastectomies too! A full mastectomy with no chance of future cancer, aka a "radical mastectomy" is super dramatic (like, removing muscle and lymph nodes), and is very rare! There are several kinds of mastectomy and its super interesting!

Cancer Anon Here: Cis women who have total and single, but not radical, mastectomies also have to continue to have breast exams to make sure the cancer doesn't pop up again. Humorous Aside: I remember when I did the research to find out about this because I was interested in breast cancer and going "Huh, why would you have your boobs removed?" and here my ass is, years later, a trans man.

aha yes ok like, i thought so but... ok i have several gripes let me thank you first tho anon

1. isn’t the small amount that remains after double mastectomy comparable to a cis man‘s tho. and ~resources~ say cis men rarely need routine screening, just checks if something suspicious arises

2. “to make sure the cancer doesn’t pop up again” makes sense if you HAVE HAD CANCER but for trans folks who Have Not is the risk really high enough to require routine screening

3. put this under general care for trans folks post-mastectomy?? honestly i may have blotted out any such language on surgery consent forms but i certainly haven’t encountered it in the ten years since despite being at a trans-centric clinic for most of that time

4. idk sounds too much like “of course you will need to (continue to) have pelvic exams and pap smears” with the total failure to account for how the science for these routine screenings is actually pretty bad compared to how financially-motivated they are. i realize this can ping as Dangerous but i despise the hardline of “no you can’t make informed risk-aware choices, and we won’t provide more information or consider that important to research”

bodily autonomy includes the right to “noncompliance” and to actually informed risks, not coercion into a standardized prevention plan designed for... profit and cis people. and being told “well the best we know is you could get cancer just like a cis person (or maybe worse because hormones We Don’t Know), We’re Not Liable We Warned You”

grumbles about “but cancer can kill you!!” and yeah so can gender dysphoria and coercive healthcare

#trans bloggin #wayyyyyyyy too many 'health resources' are like YOU JUST HAVE TO OVERCOME DYPSHORIA AND GET PAP SMEARS TO LIVE #which is utterly infuriating and unconvincing and unhelpful #risk-aware informed consent in all things #and some acknowledgment of the insurance industry in the usa and the conflicting science on Specifically routine pap smears #and the motivations around avoidance of liability

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zo2paintedlady · 4 years

Text

LGBTQ+ Novels/Memoirs

Here is the book list from my LIS 618 class. The links will bring you to their Goodreads pages.

The 57 Bus by Dashka Slater (2017) *based on a true story* "One teenager in a skirt. One teenager with a lighter. One moment that changes both of their lives forever. If it weren't for the 57 bus, Sasha and Richard never would have met. Both were high school students from Oakland, California, one of the most diverse cities in the country, but they inhabited different worlds. Sasha, a white teen, lived in the middle-class foothills and attended a small private school. Richard, a black teen, lived in the crime-plagued flatlands and attended a large public one. Each day, their paths overlapped for a mere eight minutes. But one afternoon on the bus ride home from school, a single reckless act left Sasha severely burned, and Richard charged with two hate crimes and facing life imprisonment. The case garnered international attention, thrusting both teenagers into the spotlight."

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Saenz (2012) "Aristotle is an angry teen with a brother in prison. Dante is a know-it-all who has an unusual way of looking at the world. When the two meet at the swimming pool, they seem to have nothing in common. But as the loners start spending time together, they discover that they share a special friendship--the kind that changes lives and lasts a lifetime. And it is through this friendship that Ari and Dante will learn the most important truths about themselves and the kind of people they want to be."

The Art of Being Normal by Lisa Williamson (2016) "Two boys. Two secrets. David Piper has always been an outsider. His parents think he’s gay. The school bully thinks he’s a freak. Only his two best friends know the real truth – David wants to be a girl. On the first day at his new school Leo Denton has one goal – to be invisible. Attracting the attention of the most beautiful girl in year eleven is definitely not part of that plan. When Leo stands up for David in a fight, an unlikely friendship forms. But things are about to get messy. Because at Eden Park School secrets have a funny habit of not staying secret for long…"

Felix Ever After by Kacen Callender (2020) "Felix Love has never been in love—and, yes, he’s painfully aware of the irony. He desperately wants to know what it’s like and why it seems so easy for everyone but him to find someone. What’s worse is that, even though he is proud of his identity, Felix also secretly fears that he’s one marginalization too many—Black, queer, and transgender—to ever get his own happily-ever-after. When an anonymous student begins sending him transphobic messages—after publicly posting Felix’s deadname alongside images of him before he transitioned—Felix comes up with a plan for revenge. What he didn’t count on: his catfish scenario landing him in a quasi–love triangle...."

Gender Queer by Maia Kobabe (2019) "In 2014, Maia Kobabe, who uses e/em/eir pronouns, thought that a comic of reading statistics would be the last autobiographical comic e would ever write. At the time, it was the only thing e felt comfortable with strangers knowing about em. Now, Gender Queer is here. Maia's intensely cathartic autobiography charts eir journey of self-identity, which includes the mortification and confusion of adolescent crushes, grappling with how to come out to family and society, bonding with friends over erotic gay fanfiction, and facing the trauma of pap smears. Started as a way to explain to eir family what it means to be nonbinary and asexual, Gender Queer is more than a personal story: it is a useful and touching guide on gender identity--what it means and how to think about it--for advocates, friends, and humans everywhere."

I Wish You All the Best by Mason Deaver (2019) "When Ben De Backer comes out to their parents as nonbinary, they're thrown out of their house and forced to move in with their estranged older sister, Hannah, and her husband, Thomas, whom Ben has never even met. Struggling with an anxiety disorder compounded by their parents' rejection, they come out only to Hannah, Thomas, and their therapist and try to keep a low profile in a new school. But Ben's attempts to survive the last half of senior year unnoticed are thwarted when Nathan Allan, a funny and charismatic student, decides to take Ben under his wing. As Ben and Nathan's friendship grows, their feelings for each other begin to change, and what started as a disastrous turn of events looks like it might just be a chance to start a happier new life."

Little & Lion by Brandy Colbert (2017) "When Suzette comes home to Los Angeles from her boarding school in New England, she isn't sure if she'll ever want to go back. L.A. is where her friends and family are (along with her crush, Emil). And her stepbrother, Lionel, who has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, needs her emotional support. But as she settles into her old life, Suzette finds herself falling for someone new...the same girl her brother is in love with. When Lionel's disorder spirals out of control, Suzette is forced to confront her past mistakes and find a way to help her brother before he hurts himself--or worse."

The Music of What Happens by Bill Konigsberg (2019) "IMax: Chill. Sports. Video games. Gay and not a big deal, not to him, not to his mom, not to his buddies. And a secret: An encounter with an older kid that makes it hard to breathe, one that he doesn't want to think about, ever. Jordan: The opposite of chill. Poetry. His "wives" and the Chandler Mall. Never been kissed and searching for Mr. Right, who probably won't like him anyway. And a secret: A spiraling out of control mother, and the knowledge that he's the only one who can keep the family from falling apart. Throw in a rickety, 1980s-era food truck called Coq Au Vinny. Add in prickly pears, cloud eggs, and a murky idea of what's considered locally sourced and organic. Place it all in Mesa, Arizona, in June, where the temp regularly hits 114. And top it off with a touch of undeniable chemistry between utter opposites."

Odd One Out by Nic Stone (2018) "Courtney "Coop" Cooper Dumped. Again. And normally I wouldn't mind. But right now, my best friend and source of solace, Jupiter Sanchez, is ignoring me to text some girl. Rae Evelyn Chin I assumed "new girl" would be synonymous with "pariah," but Jupiter and Courtney make me feel like I'm right where I belong. I also want to kiss him. And her. Which is . . . perplexing. Jupiter Charity-Sanchez The only thing worse than losing the girl you love to a boy is losing her to your boy. That means losing him, too. I have to make a move. . . . One story. Three sides. No easy answers."

Ramona Blue by Julie Murphy (2017) "'Ramona was only five years old when Hurricane Katrina changed her life forever. Since then, it’s been Ramona and her family against the world. Standing over six feet tall with unmistakable blue hair, Ramona is sure of three things: she likes girls, she’s fiercely devoted to her family, and she knows she’s destined for something bigger than the trailer she calls home in Eulogy, Mississippi. But juggling multiple jobs, her flaky mom, and her well-meaning but ineffectual dad forces her to be the adult of the family. Now, with her sister, Hattie, pregnant, responsibility weighs more heavily than ever."

Rethinking Normal by Katie Rain Hill (2014) "Have you ever worried that you'd never be able to live up to your parents' expectations? Have you ever imagined that life would be better if you were just invisible? Have you ever thought you would do anything--anything--to make the teasing stop? Katie Hill had and it nearly tore her apart. Katie never felt comfortable in her own skin. She realized very young that a serious mistake had been made; she was a girl who had been born in the body of a boy. Suffocating under her peers' bullying and the mounting pressure to be "normal," Katie tried to take her life at the age of eight years old. After several other failed attempts, she finally understood that "Katie"--the girl trapped within her--was determined to live."

They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera (2017) "On September 5, a little after midnight, Death-Cast calls Mateo Torrez and Rufus Emeterio to give them some bad news: They’re going to die today. Mateo and Rufus are total strangers, but, for different reasons, they’re both looking to make a new friend on their End Day. The good news: There’s an app for that. It’s called the Last Friend, and through it, Rufus and Mateo are about to meet up for one last great adventure—to live a lifetime in a single day."

Two Boys Kissing by David Levithan (2013) "New York Times bestselling author David Levithan tells the based-on-true-events story of Harry and Craig, two 17-year-olds who are about to take part in a 32-hour marathon of kissing to set a new Guinness World Record—all of which is narrated by a Greek Chorus of the generation of gay men lost to AIDS. While the two increasingly dehydrated and sleep-deprived boys are locking lips, they become a focal point in the lives of other teen boys dealing with languishing long-term relationships, coming out, navigating gender identity, and falling deeper into the digital rabbit hole of gay hookup sites—all while the kissing former couple tries to figure out their own feelings for each other."

We are the Ants by Shaun David Hutchinson (2016) "Henry Denton has spent years being periodically abducted by aliens. Then the aliens give him an ultimatum: The world will end in 144 days, and all Henry has to do to stop it is push a big red button. Only he isn’t sure he wants to. After all, life hasn’t been great for Henry. His mom is a struggling waitress held together by a thin layer of cigarette smoke. His brother is a jobless dropout who just knocked someone up. His grandmother is slowly losing herself to Alzheimer’s. And Henry is still dealing with the grief of his boyfriend’s suicide last year. Wiping the slate clean sounds like a pretty good choice to him. But Henry is a scientist first, and facing the question thoroughly and logically, he begins to look for pros and cons: in the bully who is his perpetual one-night stand, in the best friend who betrayed him, in the brilliant and mysterious boy who walked into the wrong class. Weighing the pain and the joy that surrounds him, Henry is left with the ultimate choice: push the button and save the planet and everyone on it…or let the world—and his pain—be destroyed forever."

You Should See Me in a Crown by Leah Johnson (2020) "Liz Lighty has always believed she's too black, too poor, too awkward to shine in her small, rich, prom-obsessed midwestern town. But it's okay -- Liz has a plan that will get her out of Campbell, Indiana, forever: attend the uber-elite Pennington College, play in their world-famous orchestra, and become a doctor. But when the financial aid she was counting on unexpectedly falls through, Liz's plans come crashing down . . . until she's reminded of her school's scholarship for prom king and queen. There's nothing Liz wants to do less than endure a gauntlet of social media trolls, catty competitors, and humiliating public events, but despite her devastating fear of the spotlight she's willing to do whatever it takes to get to Pennington. The only thing that makes it halfway bearable is the new girl in school, Mack. She's smart, funny, and just as much of an outsider as Liz. But Mack is also in the running for queen. Will falling for the competition keep Liz from her dreams . . . or make them come true?"

#lgbtq+ literature #lgbtq+ books for adolescents #lgbtq+#book list #lgbtq+ book list #novels/memoirs #ya books #lgbtq

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marriedandttc · 4 years

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In January 2015 my Depo-Provera birth control injection expired and we immediately began trying to conceive. We knew going into this that it would likely take at least six months because “the shot” is known to take a while to wear off. Regardless, we began trying right away and held hope.

For the first 8 months following the expiration of my injectable birth control we struggled with irregular cycles and crazy periods. It was hard to track and made trying to get pregnant difficult. Eventually though, things evened out and I had a regular 28-30 day cycle.

While we had hoped that regulation would bring our child to us we were dismayed when December passed and we were not pregnant.

In January 2016 (Cycle 13) we went to my primary care provider for a referral or some initial bloodwork. At this time I was 22 years old and in my reproductive prime. This fact made my doctor audibly chuckle and tell us we had been “trying too hard.” With a dismissive handshake he told us to relax and we’d find success.

By June of 2016 (Cycle 18) we still were not pregnant and my cycles had been nearly regular for a year. Even if we didn’t count those months where my body was out of whack we now met the requirement for infertility, again! This time I went straight to an OB/GYN hoping for better answers. I was still 22 and in my reproductive prime. The OB talked me into having a Pap smear done and sent me on my way home. “You will be pregnant in no time. Fertility issues just aren’t a concern for someone your age with regular periods.”

Finally in October of 2016 (Cycle 22). I was absolutely fed up with our situation. I had been taking ovulation tests for over a year and had been timing sex perfectly. The idea of spontaneity and passion was gone - we were focused on science. It was killing us to try so hard, but without any doctor’s aid there was nothing more we could do. I came to the same OB/GYN office but with a new doctor. I sat on the exam table with a notebook full of dried ovulation tests, cycle notes, and observations I had made. When the doctor came in I presented her with all the data and tried to explain it all. I didn’t get through our history before she cut me off. “You’re the last client of the day and I have a family dinner to get to, so I’m just going to be honest. You’re 23 years old. You were on Depo-Provera, it’s known to take up to 18 months to leave your system. I could order you some testing but it’s out of your price range and I’m out of time. You’ll be in here pregnant by December.” She proceeded to talk me into a flu shot and left for family dinner.

It was unprofessional but I was 23 and broken down by repeated dismissal. I had no fight left in me, I was sure this was the end of our road. We would never get an explanation for our infertility.

I never intended to see another doctor, but one February 2017 (Cycle 26) day a close friend of mine convinced me to try again. This time I chose a separate office and a third OB/GYN to speak with. I came prepared for the same denial I had grown to know so personally.

Dr. E barely got through the door before I tossed my notebook at him and began going over our history in excruciating detail. I wouldn’t let him get a word in edgewise as I pushed forward, determined to say my peace. He only got through to me when I stopped long enough to hear him say, “Something isn’t right here. I am prepared to help you. Where would you like to begin?”

For the next five months we would work with Dr. E monthly to take new ultrasounds, try new oral medications, and draw repeated bloodwork. It took a few failed cycles before we expanded our testing and discovered that we were dealing with a severe case of male factor infertility. A condition that was well outside our OB’s wheelhouse.

In September 2017 (Cycle 33) we got our referral to Dr. M and got the news we were not prepared at all to hear: in order to have biological children we would need a medical miracle, or In-Vitro Fertilization... a highly invasive and expensive advanced reproductive medical technique.

After nearly three years of fighting to be heard and recognized as an infertile couple we finally had the answer that would change everything.

#NIAW2020

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thanksjro · 5 years

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Eugenesis, Part One, Scene Four: A Motherfrickin’ Interlude

I know, I’m disappointed too.

The plot takes a backseat for a second, as we reflect on the history of Cybertron. We’re more or less told that all the other races in the galaxy are sick of the Transformers’ shit, and nobody gave two fucks when their entire planet just straight up disappeared.

This isn’t even a Roberts-sprung idea. We’re still dealing with information that was given to us via the Marvel comics; "biomorphic reproduction” is just the fancy way to say budding. I’m beginning to think that all the mechpreg accusations are somewhat misplaced. Watch this book prove me wrong, I’m halfway expecting it.

The Cybertronian population has been cut down to mere thousands as a result of Unicron’s very brief resurrection and subsequent destruction by way of Optimus Prime, and the Autobots are now the Resistance, hiding underground, as they were established to be in both the notes and Liars, A-to-D.

It’s here, in this damp underground that we meet up with Rodimus, who’s busy not listening to his second in command, Thunderclash.

Thunderclash is mentioned to be an ex-Decepticon here. Interesting take, one that I can’t seem to find any basis for in any media he was involved in prior to this novel’s publication. Still, it’s a neat bit of info, seeing as years later, Rodimus would take on another subordinate ex-‘Con in MTMTE, by way of Drift, and then later Megatron himself.

Anyway, what’s Thunderclash so worked up about? He’s not sure that holding a faction-wide assembly aboveground is such a hot idea. Which, fair; they aren’t exactly camped out in the bowels of the planet for shits and giggles. Rodimus points out that it would be good for morale to actually interact with the men under his command, which Thunderclash interprets as him basically wanting to throw a barbecue. Thunderclash is literally the only person who has a problem with this event- everyone else has either approved it, made it possible, or just thought it was a good idea.

He goes on to air his other grievances, including that the Thunder Raider- Ratchet’s ship- was supposed to be moving supplies from Delphi instead of what it’s currently doing. There’s just no pleasing Thunderclash.

Rodimus brings up the Helex report, if only to get his SOC to shut up for a second. The incident, covered in Liars, A-to-D, involved Mirage and a couple other Autobots facing off against Sixshot, a ‘Con who Galvatron really likes, purely for his bloodlust. As it turns out, Sixshot didn’t die when he was crushed by the space debris, and Mirage had the chance to take him out, but hesitated. Something’s on his mind, and Rodimus made the call to send him off with Ratchet to get his head clear. That’s probably why he was acting funny when they landed on Earth.

Thunderclash doesn’t understand why Rodimus doesn’t stop stringing Ultra Magnus along and just go ahead and shut Autobot City down, since they both agree it’s a waste of resources. Rodimus tries to get the final word in as he leaves, but ends up just sounding bitter, left standing alone as his chest flares up with pain, like the mechanical version of a tuberculosis cough.

Meanwhile, Nightbeat’s unpacking in his new room, having been transferred from the Sonic Canyons, the other Autobot/Resistance outpost. He overhears Rodimus and Thunderclash’s “discussion”. Nightbeat’s not too thrilled about his new digs, especially the lighting situation.

I can’t even begin to tell you what the fuck that could possibly mean. I looked up the phrase and got makeup ads. Guess his color match was off.

Nightbeat isn’t even sure why he’s in Iacon. All he knows is the High Command wanted him, so here he is. He thinks that maybe he should try talking to someone- maybe Chromedome, he knows him- but remembers that he’s too cool and aloof for that, and instead decides to wax poetic like a total edgelord.

Nightbeat doesn’t like the fact that most Cybertronians reach for immortality through replacement of parts. He’s decided that instead, he’s going to eventually weaken and die, having never replaced a moment of his past. This might be considered noble, if it wasn’t completely insane. In a fit of poetry, he busts the lights in his room, then pulls out what I think is his spark(?) and stares into it like the eyes of a lover- it’s referred to as a glass orb, so I’m not totally sure what’s going on here- reminded that it’s too late to start over, and to think otherwise might as well be a betrayal.

Nightbeat is fucking weird.

After reading this section, I decided to hit up the wiki, because I don’t understand this character in the slightest. It, unfortunately, wasn’t of much help. I learned that Nightbeat was a Headmaster, with a binary bond to a Nebulan named Muzzle, and that he’s been brought back from the dead at least once, but nothing to really explain just what’s going on with his train of thought here.

And then I had to stop myself and remember that this- Eugenesis, as a novel- is allowed to have self-contained character arcs and conundrums. I was so wrapped up in knowing the answer, I forgot that I only had a vague approximation of the question. The journey’s only just begun, after all. We’re on page 16.

Back in Autobot City, Wheeljack has to punch a door to get it to open. He, Ratchet, and Mirage enter Blaster’s domain, the Coms Level, where they meet back up with Ultra Magnus. We learn what Rewind found back a couple posts ago- three life signs, located in the now-abandoned Decepticon Fortress, labelled as being comatose.

They pull together a search-and-retrieve team, consisting of Ratchet, Mirage, Hound, Trailbreaker, and Bluestreak, and get ready to pull some Rescue Bots shenanigans. Magnus tells everyone to be careful, which pretty much guarantees that some grade-A bullshit is about to go down.

The narrative is ping-ponging a bit, but bear with me. Nightbeat’s dealing with a crisis of his own back on Cybertron: Longtooth’s gone missing. Nightbeat’s been on the scene for roughly five minutes at this point, but I suppose it’s nice to be needed.

Back on Earth, the team touches down in front of the fortress and makes its way inside. They find a busted throne, some lasered graffiti, and not much else. Mirage is in a mood, and they continue on, deeper into the guts of the fort.

So, what have we learned in this section? For starters, Thunderclash is kind of a dick. Sure, Rodimus isn’t the easiest to work with- he has the literal embodiment of evil trapped inside his body, after all- but still. Thunders needs to chillax.

We get some biological terminology for the Transformers as a race: morphcore, which is an outdated term for the transformation cog, lifespark, which nowadays is just the spark, and the brain module, which remains the same today.

We also got to prove that Roberts may not be the source of the mechpreg, but he sure as hell perpetuates it.

Examples A and B, your Honor. This is called theming, and it’s all on the writer, not the source materials. Can’t defend Roberts on this one.

…James.

This one doesn’t even make sense. The sentence this snippet comes from describes Mirage feeling the wall of the fortress for weaknesses, not giving it a pap-smear. Sometimes the writing feels a little “smack the manuscript around with a thesaurus until it looks good.”

#transformers #jro #eugenesis #part one #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #prose writing

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1dfangirls35 · 5 years

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Voir Dire- N.H.

A fake dating OU about contracts, soulmates, and risking it all for love.

Story Masterlist // Talk to me

nine

Niall's way of proving his innocence came in the form of a large white envelope with two tickets to his performance at The Late Late Show with James Corden and a handwritten note inside.

Kelsey didn't open it at first, instead letting the white parchment sit burning a hole on the kitchen counter for twenty-four hours. She was still angry, she was still hurt, and she doubted anything could make the pain she was feeling disappear.

Becca had told Kelsey about Niall's proclamation. And of course Kelsey wanted to believe it. Of course she wanted to think that this had all been a misunderstanding, and that maybe she hadn't been screwed over by a guy yet again. But the thing of it was, Niall's story seemed eerily similar to the plot of a poorly written romantic comedy. Even the weakest of skeptics would have a hard time believing Niall- and Kelsey was far from a weak skeptic.

But against all odds, something kept drawing Kelsey back to that piece of paper and its scribbled black script that was smeared slightly from Niall's left-handed strokes. She was once again holding it as Becca returned from work, chewing the nails of her free hand nervously.

"Have you made a decision yet?" Becca asked, sliding onto the loveseat across from Kelsey.

Kelsey shook her head, "It's probably not a good idea."

"Maybe not," Becca sighed, flicking her legs over the armrest of the couch. "But you have to admit you are curious. I mean you wouldn't be staring at that piece of paper if a part of you didn't want to hear his side of the story."

Kelsey let out a deep guttural sigh. "Why am I even considering it? We both know I have somewhat of a track record of getting screwed over."

"But in your track record of getting screwed over has a guy ever made the gestures Niall has to try and explain himself?" Becca argued. "Listen, Kels," she began again, sitting up and leaning forward so her eyes meet Kelsey's. "Staring at this piece of paper isn't going to make a decision for you, and quite honestly, the fact that you've been staring at that for two days straight goes to show me that you aren't quite ready to write Niall out of your life just yet. So what about this? You and I have been dying to go to a filming of The Late Late Show anyways. So we dress to the nines, we use those damn tickets, and then when we are there and you see him, you make the decision if you want to talk to him or not. If you do, that's great and if not, and you think he deserves a big old tomato on the stage instead, I'll be practicing my aim."

Kelsey let out a small chuckle at her friends comment. Becca was right though. Because as much as Kelsey tried to convince herself that this was just another man ripping apart her heart, a piece of her believed that Niall was telling the truth. She glanced down at Niall's scribbles again, running her fingers across the ink as if it would give her one final piece of information. Then, Kelsey set the envelope down on the coffee table in front of her and looked at Becca.

"Okay, we'll go."

********************

The second Kelsey stepped into the studio for the filming of The Late Late Show with James Corden, she began to wonder if this had been a huge mistake. Becca seemingly read her mind, putting a hand on her shoulder and guiding her towards their seats.

"Just say the words and we are gone," Becca whispered into Kelsey's ear as they took their seats.

Niall's tickets came with very specific instructions. After the show they were to make their way to the backstage manager and say that they were guests of Krystal. The idea of using the very person that may have ruined her relationship with Niall gave Kelsey a vile taste in the back of her throat, but if she wanted to talk to Niall, that would have to be her way in.

When Niall first appeared on stage, the crowd went wild. Well, the crowd went wild except for two girls sitting in the middle, politely clapping with a scowl on their faces. Becca had wanted to let out a dramatic boo, just to shake things up, but Kelsey had urged her not to. Mostly because she didn't want to draw attention to themselves and not because she didn't think Niall deserved it.

Kelsey nearly forgot how captivating Niall could be at first glance. With tight navy pants and a white fitted T-shirt and navy blazer, her heart took a few more beats. Even from a distance she watched as his smile lit up the room. But then she'd think about the girl that was likely standing backstage, the girl that he never even mentioned, and the small fire inside of her would be reignited.

The show goes by quickly. Niall was his usually charming self, sending even more doubts through Kelsey's mind that maybe she simply had fallen under his spell. But, no matter how strong the urge to get out of her seats and make a run for it was, Kelsey somehow stays seated.

It's during his musical performance that she noticed that he was scanning the crowd. But with the bright lights for filming and the lack of lighting elsewhere, Kelsey doubted that Niall could even pick out her face.

Becca noticed too. "Well, someone's looking for you."

Kelsey doesn't stay anything, instead she watched as Niall's energy filled the room. The sound of his deep brooding voice entering her ears and sending shivers down her spine. She didn't want to move her body to the beat of his music, but she couldn't help it, the rhythm was hypnotic. When Niall finished his performance, the crowd cheered and Kelsey knew she had a decision to make; go backstage and find out what all this fake girlfriend business was all about or leave now and only see Niall on the TV screen from now on. Becca didn't say anything, instead staring at her best friend's face as if she was trying to read her mind. Kelsey brought her index finger up to her teeth, gnawing on the edges of her fingernails as if somehow that was going to help her come to a decision. But Kelsey knew what decision she wanted to make already. The decision had been made the second she laid eyes on Niall again tonight. The question really was did she want to go through with it?

"Okay," Kelsey said softly. The crowds from the show beginning to make their way to the exit. "Let's hear him out."

Kelsey and Becca are surprised at the ease of which they get backstage. They showed the backstage manager their passes, told them they are with Krystal and are quickly led back towards a dressing room.

It's her they see first. Kelsey can tell it's her even from a yard away. Her long blonde hair was stick straight behind her back. Her long legs accentuated by the tight black mini dress she wears. Kelsey wondered what she knows.

"Your guests," the man said, grabbing Krystal's attention. Kelsey watched as Krystal's eyes followed Kelsey from head to toe, no doubt examining her competition. She gives Kelsey a half-baked smile, the kind you give when you feel obligated to but don't really want to. The kind you can see right through.

Then he appeared, coming around the corner with his band. His conversation loud and rambunctious until he sees her. He instantly fell quiet.

Niall was surprised to see her. He didn't think she'd show. He'd hoped she would but he didn't think she would. He didn't deserve for her to show. Not when he had let her find out about Krystal from a tabloid.

The tickets were his Hail Mary. A last ditch effort in trying to mend a relationship that in just a short amount of time had come to mean a lot to him. He'd even begrudgingly involved Krystal in the whole scheme, trying to avoid any possible slip-ups of his secret.

He couldn't read her face as he approached. Her usual smile was gone, but it wasn't replaced with a face of anger. Instead, her lips formed a straight, emotionless line. He wasn't sure where he was going to start. He didn't know how he was going to explain this.

"You came," he said as she approached him, their eyes meeting for the first time in weeks. Niall's heart fluttered at the sight of her, and though he knew she likely wasn't happy with him the fact that she was even here in the first place gave him some glimmer of hope.

"I did," Kelsey replied, keeping her face neutral.

They stared at each other for a moment, locked in a stand off. Neither wanting to start the conversation or sure of what words to say.

Niall broke the silence first, his voice laced with a hint of nervousness. "Will you come with me? I have some explaining to do."

Kelsey nodded and followed Niall's lead. He brought her to his dressing room, his name printed boldly on the door. Inside, Niall took a seat on a long black leather couch. Kelsey awkwardly seated herself opposite of him, careful to leave a safe amount of distance between them lest she be tempted by his irresistible smell.

"I'm glad you came. To hear me out." Niall said slowly, wringing his hands in his lap. He was careful not to let his eyes linger on her face for too long, lest she might disappear in front of his eyes.

When Kelsey doesn't reply right away Niall continued. "I'm sure it wasn't an easy decision for you to make."

Kelsey sighed, her face breaking from its neutral mask for a moment. "No, it wasn't."

Niall saw the pain flash across Kelsey's face. He knew he hurt her, and he wasn't the first to do so. He couldn't undo the hurt, he couldn't take away that pain or that broken trust. But he could try to make it right. He took a deep breath. "I never wanted you to find out like that, from the paps. I should have told you the second we took things further than friends. And Kelsey, you've got to believe me I wanted to tell you, but things were so good and uncomplicated And well- my life is complicated."

"So the girl from the music video?" Kelsey asked, her mind picturing the girl standing just a few feet outside the dressing room door, the one that Becca is likely having to make painful small talk with right now.

"That's Krystal. And in the eyes of the public and the media, she's my..." Niall hesitated, because saying the words outloud to Kelsey somehow made him feel more ashamed of the plot he was part of. "She's my girlfriend."

"But she's not really your girlfriend?" Kelsey's voice grows slightly more interrogative. Niall can see the distaste in her mouth as she says the word girlfriend, as if the word is poison to her lips.

"No...she's an actress, hired by my management....it's..Do you want a drink?" Niall stood suddenly, running his now sweaty palms down the front of his trousers. He bounced around the room in an effort to combat the awkwardness that had befallen them. He needed something, anything to make this go down smoother.

"I think that'd be good," Kelsey replied, and for the first time since he's laid eyes on her tonight, Niall swore he can see the beginnings of a smile.

The only thing stocked in the dressing room mini fridge is a bottle of Jameson whiskey. Niall finds two glasses and sets them on the coffee table in front of them. Pouring out two large glasses, before bringing the stiff liquid to his lips and down his throat.

"The thing about the entertainment industry, is it's all about appearances. Who you are seen with, who you are wearing, who you are marketing yourself as. Before each album release, the record label sits down and tells me what kind of promo I will have to do, and what kind of image they want to sell. And so this year when I sat down they told me, 'Niall, this album is all about love, so this year you are going to be a man in love.' " Niall laughed to himself at the memory, at the pure irony that in assigning him someone to love he may have just ruined his chances with someone who he actually could love.

"I didn't want it. I've always prided myself on being honest and open with my fans, and everyone in my life. I'm a what you see is what you get kinda man. But then they sat my contract in front of me, and I didn't have a choice."

"But it's your music Niall, how can you not have a choice?" Kelsey interrupted. She sees where his going with this. That this was all some plot to promote his music. But was he really just a puppet to the record label?

Niall could tell Kelsey still didn't understand the gravity of the situation. The consequences it would have had on his career had he say no. He looked her straight in the eyes. "These are powerful people Kelsey. You can't just screw off one part of the music industry, they're all connected in someway or another. And I love my music, I love making music. And so I figured this one small sacrifice in my character wouldn't matter in the long run. And so they hired Krystal."

Kelsey didn't say anything, instead swirling the whiskey in her glass and watching it stick to the edges.

"What I didn't expect to do was meet you Kelsey." Niall's voice softened.

Kelsey sets down her glass on the table. "But why didn't you tell me Niall. If this is all for show why didn't you just warn me?" Her voice raised. Because this is really all what it came down to wasn't it. It wasn't that it mattered if Niall was in some PR relationship, it wasn't that he had not stood up to his label, it was the fact that he didn't even given her the smallest of warnings that there was something more complicated going on.

"I wanted to tell you. I just didn't know how." Niall trailed off. He thinks of all the times the words almost slipped off of his tongue, all the excuses that he'd given himself as to why it hadn't been the right time. And look where it had gotten him.

"And I guess a part of me was worried that when I told you you'd bolt. These people, my management, they aren't people to mess with. Make them angry and they can do some damage. I wanted to protect you from that. I didn't want to drag you into my lifestyle anymore than I already have."

"That wasn't for you to decide Niall."

"I see that now and I'm sorry." Niall's eyes pleaded with Kelsey, regret entwined within the blue irises. Niall looked at Kelsey, the girl who somehow captivated him in every way. The girl who he couldn't keep his mind off of. The girl who he may have slowly been falling for. He didn't want to lose her. He didn't want to give this up.

"Can we start this over maybe? This time without all the secrets?"

Kelsey bit her lip. She believed Niall she really did. And she liked him, oh man did she like him. But was it worth all the stress? All the sneaking around? All the possible consequences should someone find out?

"I know I've broken your trust. And I know you've been hurt in the past. So it doesn't have to be today, or tomorrow or even next week. But I'd like to start fresh," Niall continued.

Kelsey took a deep breath in. Maybe starting from the beginning wouldn't be such a bad thing. Maybe that's what they needed. No clubs and taxis and one night stands. A new beginning where everything was on the table. "Okay."

Kelsey watched as relief flooded Niall's face.

"I'm Niall," he said suddenly, holding out a hand for her to shake. She laughs at the formality of it, because even on that first night in the bar she wasn't sure they'd been formally introduced.

"Kelsey," her hand met Niall's and she felt that familiar spark from his touch.

"Nice to meet ya Kelsey. Can I treat ya to a drink?" Niall asked with a wink.

Tags: @awomanindeniall @ihearthemcallingforyou @niall-is-my-dream

*********************************

A/N:Thank you so much for reading Voir Dire! I know its been a while since I've updated and I'm just going to warn you that from now on I'm not sure how regular my updates will be, as I'm about to start clinical rotations...eek. I appreciate your patience, and hope I can continue telling Niall and Kelsey's story soon!

#voir dire #nh #writingby1dfangirls35 #niall horan #1dff #niallff #fake dating #secret relationship #niall x ofc #ntmy

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catherinevongro · 4 years

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I don’t think I’ve posted about this here, and if I haven’t told you myself, I’m sorry, we obviously haven’t spoke often enough recently (message me and we’ll find some time to chat!)

I’ve recently become aware of the fact that I have (several) ovarian cysts.

This in of itself isn’t a big deal. Cysts happen as a part of a normal cycle. It’s when they get big that’s the real issue. (An average normal ovary is about 2 cm.) My cysts are up to 10 cm. “There are innumerable bilateral ovarian cystic lesions” (from the MRI report) the right side seems to have 1 big one and the left side has like 4 or 5 the largest of which is about 8 cm.

I became aware of this because I was feeling pain/pressure on my right side, which finally drove me to the hospital and an ultrasound, and then an MRI.

I’m Ace. This is a huge part of my identity (like my list of 3 things that I want people to know are I’m ace, I’m pagan, and I’m vegetarian, my avatar is literally an ace flag). I have no interest in sex. I have no interest in pregnancy from the very beginning to the very end. I almost had a panic attack when I had a pap smear. I don’t want anything to do with my reproductive system. (If I had to chose between my health and my chance to have a baby it would be my health 100% of the time. Heck, the only reason I haven’t asked to burn it down (it being my reproductive system) thus far is because I don’t want to deal with menopause etc.)

All this means it’s very frustrating and annoying that one of the symptoms of ovarian cysts is painful intercourse (and also not having symptoms, real helpful body, real helpful). Naturally when I’ve been looking up people talking about it to see what I should be aware of and what I may experience half the people are talking about fertility. Which I could care less about. I don’t care that I could lose an ovary (except that losing both would cause menopause and I’m not about that hot flash life, I’m hot enough as it is lol) I don’t care if it makes it harder to conceive. All I want to know is what it means to have the cysts and what happens next (which honestly no one has talked about why they happened and what’s to prevent one from happening again)

Also, and if you’ve made it this far, good for you, but I might get slightly more graphic / tmi, so be warned.

also, I can kinda feel the pressure on my right side from the cyst, and tonight it’s been spiking into pain. Like I had to pause a tv show because of the pain. It’s gone down now, and isn’t so painful, but I can still feel it. And I can’t say for sure, but it totally feels like I have to pee more often than usual / can’t hold it as well. and most people who talk about pain from rupturing or torsion imply it’s not something you can mistake for anything else, but I’m not convinced that I react to pain in the same way, and so would I know (although my mother has talked about being in labor and suddenly realizing what the doctor meant when they said come in when you can’t walk or stand through the contraction).

anyways.

in other news, because there are several large cysts, the gyn I went to said she couldn’t do the removal surgery it would have to be robotic (which I’m increasingly nervous suddenly about the cost of this surgery), so she referred me to this other guy and I have a video appointment with him next monday, and yeah NJ is opening back up (kinda) but will the hospital allow the surgery, (the gyn said 1-2 months ish to wait) and when will he fit me in, and how long will recovery take, and how will this impact my job, and will I have to use up all my sick time on this, and vacation time? is it a silver lining that I can’t see my family this year because of covid-19??!?!!??

so, I’ve got several (large(?)) ovarian cysts. They’re going to come out at some point. I’m mad because I want nothing to do with sex or pregnancy or birth or fertility, and yet here I am.

#about me #tmi cw #ace #ovarian cyst #whee #I want nothing to do with my girl parts #why is this happening to me?!?

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wingwaver · 5 years

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I wanna take a minute to talk about how I feel when it comes to my own gender and sexuality. I'm not to great at explaining things though so bare with me I guess.

I guess I'll start off with the fact that, even a child, I always hated having a vagina and when I found out that "boys" were born with something different I was envious. It especially got worse when I started getting my period around 10 years old and was told that "boys" don't have to go through that (I know now that that's false of course because trans boys and men have periods) so when I was kid I HATED being a girl and had often wished that I had been born a boy instead.

When I was little I refused to wear dresses, or like anything considered too girly. I was considered a "tomboy" and loved baggy boys clothes and things considered "boys things" instead of "girl things" (save for BRATZ, Polly Pocket, and Barbie I fuckin loved those).

I would often get mistaken for a boy and get called "he" and while some didn't notice the "mistake" at first someone would always point out "no she's a girl". Getting called "he" never felt insulting though, it felt good. I didn't (and still don't) mind being called "she" but "he" never made me feel bad. It was everyone else that made a big deal about it and I never understood why.

Some could say a lot of that was internalized sexism (and yeah I'll admit some of it was). Just a few years ago I finally started embracing my femininity, I actually started liking wearing dresses and skirts and now love the color pink and I like wearing revealing clothes from time to time. And for a while I was content that way, but then people expected me to be feminine all the time and the magic of finally being a girl/woman wore off.

But now I feel good doing both. I'll dress "feminine" some days and "masculine" some days or a lil mix of both. And yeah, everyone can do that because clothes don't actually have gender but it feels good to finally be able to have a "middle ground" and realize that I don't have to be seen as "just" a woman or man.

Now, I didn't learn about non binary genders or the fact that you could use other pronouns or even more than one set of pronouns until a few years ago as an adult because I grew up in one of those kind of Christian homes (you know, where gay and trans people are the boogeyman). I had no idea that agender (which is how I feel most of the time) or genderfluid were terms to describe oneself with. And honestly, I'm not sure I'd wanted to learn it sooner because of the home I grew up in but I am so glad I know about them now because I know they're good terms to describe how I feel about my gender.

While I do still sometimes wish I had been born with a penis I don't always feel like a man. Nor do I always feel like a woman. Sometimes I'll feel like I'm one or the other but most of the time I'm just like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ when it comes to my gender.

Now as for the topic of dysphoria, I still get a little confused when it comes to the term but I'm pretty sure I feel it. I don't hate my boobs but I do get jealous that cis men can just walk around shirtless whenever and sometimes I do wish my chest was flat sometimes but honestly I couldn't care less whether they stay or go, but I still HATE having a vagina! Personally, if it were possible, I'd rather have no genitalia at all, and it makes me sad that my body has to have one or the other (or both but I don't think anyone has ever had surgery to have both??? I know people can be born with both though). My vagina causes me a lot of distress and I think I may someday end up getting surgery to have a penis instead. It's up to future me to figure that out and make the step though cause I'm not in a place safe enough to come out or have the surgery yet.

Now for my sexuality. I'm asexual. I know this as a fact because I'm not interested in people the same way most others are. I use the split attraction model but it still feels off sometimes when describing romantic attraction because I'm still unsure if I feel any form of attraction to real people. Right now I base my romantic attraction on fictional crushes and I've been attracted to characters of all genders. When it comes to real people I can say that I do find women and non-binary people more appealing than men, and in fiction I'm usually attracted to more men, so for now I go by Bi-romantic.

I also want to state that, yes, I am sex-repulsed, but it has nothing to do with me being asexual. Me being asexual just means that I don't feel sexual attraction. In fact sex-repulsion has nothing to do with asexuality at all. Plenty of people are repulsed by sex no matter who they are or aren't attracted to. Some lesbians are sex-repulsed, some bi people are, some gay men are, some pan people are, even some straight people are. Sex-repulsion has nothing to do with who you're attracted to it had to do with how you feel about sex and people can be sex-repulsed for a number of reasons.

For me, personally, I'm pretty sure mine has to do with dysphoria and how society depicts sex. When I found out about sex as a teen I was curious but ultimately decided that wasn't ever for me. When society tends to describe sex to people with vaginas they say that sex will hurt the first time and that it'll hurt sometimes after that but ultimately leads to pleasure. NO THANKS. I know now, after listening to people who have had it, that that isn't true. Sure it will hurt for some people (there's even a thing some people have where sex will always hurt I forgot the disease name though) but if you are doing it right there won't be any pain. Still, the damage is...kinda done with me. Me not wanting a vagina to begin with coupled with mainstream society's explanations on vaginal sex has made me deathly afraid of having anything in my vagina, I can't even use tampons, the thought of it nearly gives me a panic attack and I internally flipped out when my doctor suggested a pap smear (thankfully he said it was ultimately my decision to have or not have one since I'm not sexually active, though I do think I'm gonna try to because I know it's super important).

I also think that some abuse I've been through factors into my feelings towards sex but that's a whole other can of worms for different day.

And before I end this already too long post I'd like to bring up names. I have always hated the name my parents gave me but everytime I brought it up everyone was like "it's a pretty name though!" and fine if you think that whatever but it's never felt like MY name, it's never felt like ME. I don't mind the nickname that came from it (Liss) because it feels like a different name all together to me so I prefer when my family and other people use it over my full first name. I also really like the name Elias, or Lias for a nickname, they feel more natural to me and like they describe me (does that make sense???), and they make me feel like the person is actually referring to the real me so once I get the chance I'll probably change my legal name to Elias someday.

Anyway I'm gonna stop here because this became longer than I thought it'd be but I felt like I needed to get some of this out ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#lias talks #oh? lore?#yes that is just my personal tag now #would kinda prefer this not be reblogged since it's more of a personal post about me I guess #long post #long post for mobile #nws #I guess? I mean I do talk about nws things in this post so the tag stays #nws text

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choicesfanatic86 · 6 years

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TTS: Part 38 (Liam x MC)

DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except characters unique to my story. Those belong to me. ;)

PAIRINGS: Riley (MC) x OC, Riley (MC) x Liam, Liam x Riley (MC) x OC, Olivia x Drake, Bertrand x Savannah, Maxwell x OC

SUMMARY: Seeing their baby brings about a whole wave of emotions.

If you are new to the series and would like to catch up by reading previous parts, please check out my master fan fiction listing. CATCH UP HERE

Permanent Tag List: @umccall71 @drakelover78 @jamielea81 @bobasheebaby @speedyoperarascalparty @hopefulmoonobject @theroyalweisme @gardeningourmet @jlouise88 @hamulau @traeumerinwitzhelden @blackcatkita @mrs-simmy @kaitycole @alwaysthebestchoice @mfackenthal @trr-duchessofvaltoria

Tag List for TTS Only: @herladyshipxx @devineinterventions2 @captainkingliam @pbchoicesobsessed @cocomaxley @queencatherynerhys @boneandfur @spetstoof @grapefrults @pessimystic-fangirl @dralenamax @mspaigemoore @jayjay879 @hhiggs @penguininapinktuxedo @topsyturvy-dream @diamond-dreamland @pnhanga @ladynonsense @mrsdrakewalkerblog @crookedslimecreatorpasta @liamxsworld @flowerpowell @bruteforcebears @withice @jared2612 @darley1101

06/02/2018 - More to come tomorrow! :) Just giving you a little taste of what’s to come. This was originally going to be a part of one big chapter, but I just figured since I was away for a while, I’d give you something to read before tomorrow! :)

As always, just shoot me a message or comment with requests to be added to the permanent tag or story tag. :)

PART 38 - Galloping Horses

Riley bit her lip, trying to conceal the smile that so desperately wanted to break out across her face. He showed up. He hadn’t turned away from the baby. He wanted to be involved. A rush of emotions raged through her body, but she held back the happy tears that threatened to flow freely.

“Wonderful,” Dr. Scoggin said happily. “Just in time. We were just going to go over mom and dad’s medical history,” she explained to Liam, motioning for him to have a seat.

Liam took a seat in one of the chairs that were across from the examination table. Riley had laid back, still in a state of surprise and relief all rolled into one. It was as if the weight of the world had been lifted off of her shoulders. She gave a glance to where he was sitting. She had never seen him so nervous before. He wore jeans and a t-shirt with some athletic shoes. He had dressed down for the appointment. It was a nice look for him. He looked so . . . normal. She was always so accustomed to seeing him dressed in formal-wear or his regal uniform, however this side of Liam . . . the laid-back Liam, was attractive. She stopped herself from going further. She couldn’t think like that. Not anymore. She had the lima bean to think about. Nope, going there with him again would just make things more complicated than they already were.

“So,” Dr. Scoggin smiled at both of them. “Are there any sort of medical conditions in any of your immediate families? Diabetes, Cancer, Asthma? Genetic abnormalities?” She asked, her pen at the ready.

Riley glanced toward Liam, swallowing thickly. “Well . . . I had a history of asthma when I was a kid . . . My mom had some pre-cancerous polyps a while back. No real other issues in my family. I have a cousin that has lupus,” she shrugged. “Otherwise pretty healthy,” she said nervously.

“And you, Dad?” The doctor turned her attention to Liam.

Riley caught a small smile play on his lips when the doctor said the word “dad.” What a transformation from the previous night. She found it difficult to believe that the man sitting before her was the same man that she had argued with the previous night. She wondered what had happened to change his mind about things. Maybe he really did just need some time to work things out on his own.

“My father . . . he, uh, passed away from cancer a short while ago,” Liam said, his voice cracking a little. “No other major medical conditions that I’m aware of.”

“Great,” Dr. Scoggin murmured as she jotted all of the information down. “Okay, so the good news is you’re both fairly young and healthy. The older you get, the risks for genetic abnormalities or problems with the pregnancy tend to increase. Everything looks good right now,” she smiled. “The only speed bump seems to be the hyperemesis gravidarum.”

“Hyperemesis gravidarum?” Liam asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Mom here has been diagnosed with hyperemesis gravidarum. In pregnancy, a woman will endure an excessive amount of vomiting. It tends to last at least through the first half of the pregnancy. Sometimes it wanes as time goes on,” she explained.

“That’s why you were hospitalized,” Liam frowned, looking at Riley.

She nodded. “The lima bean had quite a dramatic way of making himself known,” she chuckled.

He sucked a breath in, his forehead wrinkled in concern. “Is it dangerous?”

“It can be, if left untreated. Dehydration is one of the biggest risk factors for mom,” Dr. Scoggin noted. “It’s not too common; maybe 1-2% of pregnant women will suffer from it. Even then there’s varying degrees in severity. Riley here appears to have a moderate level, but we won’t know how severe it is until the pregnancy progresses a bit further.”

Liam’s eyebrows furrowed deeply. The wrinkles in his forehead were deep crevices. He was concerned. It was written all over his face. “Should she be in the hospital?”

Dr. Scoggin shook her head. “She’s fine right now, I assure you.” She noticed the doubt flit across Liam’s face. “It’s okay to be a bit unnerved by such a diagnosis, but tens of thousands of pregnant women have this and they deliver perfectly healthy babies,” she assured them. “Let’s prove it to you and take a look at your baby,” she smiled brightly.

She sat on her rolling chair, fiddling with the buttons and monitor. She moved over to Riley, and she started to shift the paper gown aside to expose her abdomen. Liam watched intently as the doctor pulled out the tube of gel.

“Just going to be a bit cold at first, but then I promise you’ll get used to it as the exam goes on,” she said.

“Oh, they had to do a transvaginal ultrasound at the hospital,” Riley began to object. “They couldn’t find the baby this way,” she explained.

“Don’t worry, if the abdominal ultrasound doesn’t work, we’ll use that technique, but I have a lot of years of practice,” she smiled. “You’re almost ten weeks, so we just might be lucky enough to see the baby this way.”

Riley nodded, but still felt a bit skeptical about it considering her last ultrasounds were merely days ago. She had hoped that the transvaginal ultrasound wouldn’t be necessary. That would be a tad bit embarrassing to have in front of Liam. She didn’t care how many times he had seen her naked, it would still give her a bit of the heeby jeebies to have him witness that sort of procedure being done on her.

Dr. Scoggin moved the ultrasound wand around her belly for a while. Riley waited anxiously, gazing at the screen, waiting for something to pop up. A few moments later, there he was. The lima bean in all his glory. She couldn’t help but smile as she saw him.

“I told you . . . with a little patience and some skill,” Dr. Scoggin chuckled. “I’m just going to take some measurements and snap some images for you both.”

Riley took a quick look at Liam. His eyes were glued to the monitor. He had leaned forward a bit in his chair to get a better look. The expression was one of awe and wonder. He was clearly amazed by the little life they had created.

“It’s so tiny,” he murmured. “And it’s moving so quickly,” he noted.

“Yes, lots of movement, but mom won’t feel it for quite some time. Maybe not at least for another six to seven weeks,” she explained.

Liam reached across to grab Riley’s hand, but hesitated. She saw the worry in his face. She remembered how she had pulled away from his the previous night when he had tried to hold her hand. She sighed. They were back at square one again, but she couldn’t worry about the status of their pseudo-relationship now. She had a chance to see her little lima bean, and she wasn’t going to squander the opportunity.

Dr. Scoggin pulled another device off of the cart with the monitor stationed on it. She pushed it against Riley’s tummy and instantly a whooshing noise filled the space around them.

“What’s that?” Liam asked, a puzzled look on his face. “Is that . . .” he trailed off, realization dawning on him.

“Your baby’s heartbeat,” Dr. Scoggin smiled.

Riley’s eyes began to water. All of the emotions that had been bottled up inside of her since Liam had walked into the room flowed out of her freely.

“It sounds like galloping horses,” she covered her mouth in awe. She’d only seen the fluttering heartbeat on the ultrasound at the hospital that first time. She didn’t even remember the second ultrasound because she had been passed out. This . . . hearing their baby’s heartbeat was nothing short of a miracle.

“Amazing,” Liam murmured.

Riley gazed at Liam with watery eyes. “Isn’t it?” She sighed, feeling so content. Who know that seeing their little baby flitting across the monitor could make her feel so happy?

“Do you mind if I record this?” He asked, his eyes meeting Riley’s.

“He’s your baby, too, Liam. You don’t have to ask,” she gave him a half-smile.

He pulled out his cell phone, and started to record the sound echoing through the room as well as the image of their baby moving across the screen.

“Okay folks, I’m going to move on to the next part of the exam,” she said as she started to turn off the monitor. “We’re going to need to do a pap smear and also get some bloodwork done.”

Riley sat up, wrapping the paper gown back around her. “More pokes?” she asked in dismay. “I feel like a pin cushion as is,” she sighed.

Dr. Scoggin chuckled lightly. “Get used to it, you’ll probably be poked and prodded over the course of this pregnancy. It gets better,” she assured her.

“So, I’m just going to get ready for the pap smear,” Dr. Scoggin said, sifting through a cabinet off behind the monitor.

“And I will take that as my cue to wait outside,” Liam stood, nodding politely. “I’ll give you your privacy, Riley, but perhaps we can talk after the appointment?” He asked softly.

She nodded. “Excellent, I’ll wait for you in the front. Dr. Scoggin, it’s been a pleasure,” he smiled.

“Dad, any questions before you go? Last chance until the next visit,” she said.

“Actually . . . there is a question I’ve had in mind,” he stopped short of opening the exam room’s door. “How soon before she’s able to travel?”

Riley’s head snapped toward Liam. Travel? Then it hit her smack dab in the face. He intended for her to return to Cordonia with them. That wasn’t the plan. She started to sit upright to look him in the eyes. She needed him to know that going back to Cordonia was not an option. Not now. Not ever. She and the baby were going to stay in New York. She’d give birth *-here. She’d raise the baby here. That was non-negotiable.

“I don’t see any reason for there to be any travel restrictions as long as she doesn’t exhaust herself. Long flights can be a bit uncomfortable for women with hyperemesis, but as long as she’s comfortable, it shouldn’t be a problem,” she smiled brightly. “Thinking of a bit of a babymoon?” She asked.

Riley blushed. “It’s not like that,” she muttered, shaking her head.

Liam frowned a bit. “I’m from Europe, and I was hoping she’d come back with me so that I can take care of her,” he explained.

“Ah,” Dr. Scoggin nodded in understanding. “I see. Well, if you are thinking of relocating, the sooner the better would be ideal,” she explained. “As the pregnancy gets further along, I wouldn’t recommend traveling internationally. The stresses that come with a move can also be detrimental to the pregnancy.”

Liam nodded at her in gratitude. “Thank you again,” he said. “I’ll meet you outside,” he said softly to Riley.

She could only nod. She was still reeling from the idea of him wanting her to go back to Cordonia with him.

The pap smear and bloodwork had gone a lot smoother than Riley had expected. Perhaps she had become accustomed to all the uncomfortable tests after being in the hospital so many times over the last week.

“I’m going to get some photos printed out for you, and then I’m going to have you schedule another appointment in two weeks. I don’t think you’ll need to see me much longer. Although you are considered a bit more high risk because of your hyperemesis diagnosis, as long as you continue to take the anti-nausea medication and stay hydrated, it shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Any questions?”

Riley shook her head.

“Great, I’ll see you in two weeks. Go ahead and get changed, and you can meet my receptionist up front to set your next appointment up,” she smiled.

“Thank you, Dr. Scoggin.”

Riley became lost in her thoughts as she tossed the paper gown in the trash and changed back into her regular clothing. She didn’t want to fight with Liam, especially after they had shared such an amazing experience together, but she just couldn’t let him think that he was going to take control over this pregnancy. Last night it seemed like he wanted nothing to do with the lima bean, now . . . now he was talking about her going back to Cordonia. He couldn’t dictate what she was going to do. If she wanted to stay in New York, she’d stay in New York. She could do this on her own. It’d be difficult, of course, but he could fly down for visits. She’d never deprive him of any of the medical information regarding the pregnancy. Technology was great. She could text him pictures and videos from the appointments. Heck, she could probably even facetime or skype with him during the actual appointment if he wanted to be present at all of the future visits. She didn’t have to move to Cordonia just because she was pregnant with his child. Nope. Not happening.

When Riley exited the exam room and went back into the waiting room, she noticed that Liam had firmly planted himself on one of the chairs. “Ready?”

“I just have to make another appointment,” she said curtly. Liam must have sensed her anger as he took a step back towards the door. She sighed. She hadn’t wanted to snap at him, but she just couldn’t stand the presumptions that were being made on his part. When she was finished, she walked toward the door, which Liam politely opened for her.

As soon as they stepped foot out of the office, she let her irritation rip at him.

“How soon can she travel?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Really Liam?” She brushed pass him pressing the elevator button forcefully.

“Riley . . .”

“Let me get this straight . . . last night you have a major meltdown about this baby . . . act as if you want nothing to do with him, and now you want to take care of me? Don’t get me wrong here, Liam. I’m so happy that you came today. I want you to be a part of our baby’s life, but I’m not going back to Cordonia with you.”

“Yes, you are.” He stated simply.

“No . . . I’m not,” she said adamantly.

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her into his embrace. “I love you, Riley Lawson. We’re having a baby, and I plan to be with you every step of the way. I’ve already missed so much, and I don’t plan on missing anything else when it comes to this pregnancy. I know I screwed up . . . it seems what I do best when it comes to us, but I want to make it up to you. I need to, for our baby’s sake,” his hand reaches out toward her flat stomach. “Give me a chance to take care of you . . . the both of you.”

#the royal romance #theroyalromance #choices: stories you play #choices #playchoices #choices fandom #choices the royal romance #the royal romance fan fic #royal romance #trr au #trr fanfic #trr #choices trr #trr fic #liam #liam x riley

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