So, I drive 45minutes to work each day, and I listen to a shitload of music. This one hit me one day on the way home. The words to Your House and You Oughta Know are at the end.

All things that SM owns, well, she owns them. I own an Alanis Morrisette CD.

The usual suspects get the shout-out: Shalu, for bein' a mastah-beta and the title. The rest of the fuckawesome UU babes, and all of you who read this! MWAH!

Three years. Three fucking years I wasted on that tool, Mike Newton.

When I found out he was cheating on me, I lost it. Totes lost my shit. I was devastated.

Thanks be to all that is holy for my younger sister, Angela. She pulled me through that shit-hole of a month where I ate nothing but chocolate and Ben & Jerry's.

I hadn't seen, or heard, from him now in four months, which makes it six months since I left his sorry, good-for-nothing, cheating ass. He'd tried to apologize.

Yeah, right.

I'd accept his apology the day Hell froze over.

If some of my friends ever see him again, he'd be lucky to survive the ass-kicking that he so completely deserves. Emmett already tried to kill him. Rose should have let him continue.

Though my life was still a bit of a wreck, things are much better, and I was ready to move on with my life. There was no way I was going to let that twatwaffle and his major fuckery ruin my life anymore.

Today, my little sis came home with some of her latest "props" from the movie set she was working on. One of them was a fake baby-belly. It gave me a devious idea. Diabolical even.

Revenge is a bitch, and a dish best served cold.

Said revenge being handed out by a jilted, cold bitch, namely me, would make it an Epic Win.

Angela readily agreed to help me plot my grand re-entrance into the world of the living.

Look out world, here comes Bella Swan.


Angela, and her boyfriend Ben, knew this guy who owns a local pub. Apparently, Mike and his new girlfriend, and skank-whore, Jessica, frequented the establishment every Friday night. Typical Mike behavior. His ass was so stuck in a rut it had permanent tire marks.

Angela helped me into the baby belly, and procured an adorable outfit to match it from the wardrobe on the movie set. It was a dark, rose-colored peasant blouse, with embroidery around the scooped neckline. A great push-up bra made my sweater monsters appear even larger than they already were. She finished off the ensemble with a great pair of chocolate brown pants that were butter soft, and made my legs look super slim, which further accentuated my baby bulge. The flowery ballet flats she handed me were just too damn cute for words. My hair and make-up were minimal, yet fierce, and I did indeed look marvelous. Mahvelous, dahling, mahvelous.

I also looked like I was about to burst any moment. The belly was labeled as "full term" but I figured I could throw the word twins into the mix if I had to.

I pulled up outside the pub, took a deep breath and reminded myself of the skank's letter, sitting on twatwaffle's desk. My anger flared tenfold, and I knew I was ready to face them down.

Bartender's POV

The normal Friday night crowd shuffled in, a few new faces mixed in with the stalwart regulars. It would pick up as the evening drew on, but for now the early birds were eating and drinking happily in most cases. There were always those people to watch who were on the verge of tears, or fights, or - God forbid - the drunken rants. Thankfully, I rarely had any of those.

I noticed the blonde guy and his chick come in and head to "their" table. Every Friday night, like clockwork; a beer and a fuzzy navel, fried cheese sticks, two cheeseburgers, another beer, she'd eat half of her food, another fuzzy navel, he'd finish her food, then they'd sit and discuss dessert. Yes. No. Maybe. If you want to, baby, I'll just have a bite. Then she'd eat all of the dessert and he'd barely get any. It made me dislike her, though I didn't really know her. Everything about her was fake. Tits, cheekbones, laugh, fingernails, hair color.

Ben came in a few weeks ago, and damn near shit a brick when he saw them. For a few minutes, I thought I was going to have to ask Ben to leave, he was so furious. I seriously thought he was going to kill the tool a couple of times. He sat at the far end of the bar in the gloomy darkness and watched them. He gave me the cliff notes version of how he knew them: his girlfriend's sister used to date the tool. He'd cheated on her with Fakey McFakerson, and she left him. Good for her. I hoped she had moved on. Ben's girl, Angela, was a sweetie, and if her sister was anywhere near as nice she deserved better.

Ben started coming in later on Fridays, afraid he would make a scene. That was cool with me. Ben was a good patron and a decent guy. I didn't want to have to kick one of them out. I knew who my choice would be, though.

Taking in the room again, I glanced over to their table just as their waitress had delivered the second fuzzy navel, the tool got up to go the head.

Once again, like clockwork. Damn, he's more boring than an accountant's convention.

I wiped down the bar again, got another beer for Five-Beer-Charlie, and went back to washing glasses.

I heard the front door jingle and turned to see the newcomer. I stopped dead in my tracks. Beautiful. Stunning. Glorious. I had no other words to convey my thoughts. I drank in her large doe eyes, framed in a lightly made-up face. She truly needed no enhancement; her long, thick hair was a mass of chocolate waves, drifting around in the slight breeze created by the ceiling fans. As her eyes adjusted to the lighting, she glanced around the room.

Then I noticed the bulge. She was obviously very pregnant. It only made her more attractive. Most women bloom when they become pregnant. This woman absofuckinglutely blossomed! It made me wish she were mine. I wanted to run my hands lovingly over her stomach, caress the place where our child was growing. Talk to it in hushed whispers as her fingers ran through my hair.

Well, fuck! I had been single for too fucking long! I was losing my mind over a pregnant woman in my pub. Now who's the tool?

She seemed to be looking for someone, and the look on her face didn't bode well for the person she was searching for. I watched her expression change from determination to anger to raging fury. Then I turned my eyes in the direction of her gaze. The Tool and McFakerson.

Oh, Shit. This is gonna be bad. Or good. Possibly damn good.

It couldn't be her, could it? Ben never mentioned her being knocked up.

The determination came back, and she pulled her glorious body up and marched to their table with a ferocity I had never witnessed in a human being before.

I quickly turned the volume down on the TV behind the bar, and prayed that no one ordered a drink in the next few minutes. I wouldn't miss this confrontation for the world.

The tool finally noticed the lioness stalking to his table. He visibly blanched and waved to the waitress, who I quickly called to me before she could head over.

"Don't give him his check yet. Something is gonna go down and I'd like to see what happens." She smiled knowingly and nodded at me.

The waitresses had all flipped coins to see who would take their table. He was a craptastic tipper. Not to mention the nasty looks his girlfriend threw at any female in their vicinity. She was apparently rather possessive. I had no idea why, but to each their own, I guessed.

The voluptuous brunette approached the table, grabbed a chair from the adjoining one, and sat herself down at an angle. Her protruding belly making it impossible to pull directly up to it. Her actions drew all the eyes in the room to their table. She was a woman on a mission.

"Jesus, Bella!" The tool exclaimed.

A smirk graced her lovely face. "No, Mike. These have nothing to do with an immaculate conception. If only I were so lucky." She placed her hand on her womb as she spoke, then glared at him.

I damn near guffawed at her flippant comment. This was definitely gonna be good.

He opened his mouth to speak but fakealicious Barbie spoke first. "Who is this, Mike? And why is she pointing her belly at you?" The screech of fingernails on a chalkboard would be more soothing than her voice.

"Jess, I don't…"

Bella cut him off. "An older woman, Mike? I would have thought you would have gone younger."

"I am only six months older than him!" She screeched again, somehow reaching an even higher octave.

"Oh, well it must be the lighting in here, Wrinkles. I'm Bella, the woman he swore to love until he died. Did he ever tell you that? I'm the woman he spent three years of his life with. Oh, wait. Maybe he wasn't exclusively spending those three years with me though."

The tool, by this time, was back-pedaling so fast I thought I could smell burning rubber.

"Jessica, I told you about Bella. We were dating in College and then after…"

Bella held up her hand, stopping the word vomit again. "Ah, were dating are the operative words there, genius. We were dating when you were obviously dating her too. We were datingin College, and we were datingafter College, when you tried to convince me to try out some of your weird-ass fetishes."

She turned to Jessica. "Has he asked you to suck his cock in the movies, yet? He likes that one a lot. Has he punched you in the back of the head while you were getting it on doggy style? Oh, the best one: has he asked you to piss on him while he spanks his monkey? I'm fairly sure he has his own page on Urban Dictionary."

This woman was vicious. Hardcore. I hoped to never get on her bad side. That would first require getting on her good side. That was something I would like to do. I just bet she could sweep the Devil off his red-hot feet.

Jessica's face took on an evil grin. Apparently she thought she was somehow going to get the upper hand. I already knew better. "No. My man would never ask me to do those things. That's perverted. He's a sweet man."

Oh, the humanity. She really is that dumb.

Bella threw her head back and laughed. She laughed so hard, I thought she would fall off the chair.

"Well, my dear, I am sure the time will come. It took him two years to ask me to do some of those things. How long have you two lovebirds been dating now?"

Mike once again opened his mouth to speak, but the voice that answered was hers. "We've been dating for over a year!"

I was sure the neighborhood dogs were covering their ears in pain.

Mike's face fell, his whole body looked like it wished to be sucked into a black hole and never be seen again.

"Really. Well now." Bella was obviously regrouping for a flank attack.

"Bella, I wanted to tell you, but I just couldn't. I just didn't know how." His tone was defeated. He couldn't have looked any more dejected if someone had kicked his puppy.

"Didn't know how? Here I thought you grasped the English language rather well. You graduated college, and maintained a high GPA. Who'd have thought you couldn't find the words to tell me you were seeing someone else for, let's see…" She actually counted off the months on her fingers. "More than six months! Geez. Don't I feel stupid now?" She rolled her eyes at him and once again rubbed her belly.

Mike's gaze was drawn to her circling hand. "Bella, how far along are you? Is it mine?" He was almost pleading, and Jessica's face was vacillating between rage and desperation.

"I'm seven months, and yes, THEY are yours. Plural. Twins. More than one. Two. Have you grasped the counting concept yet?" She held up her hand and pointedly shoved two fingers in his shocked face.

"Oh, God. Bella. I'll do right by you, I promise. I'll make sure you're taken care of."

She shot him a look that would've brought the most masculine of men to his knees, covering his genitals in hopes of protecting what was left of his manhood.

"I want nothing from you, Mike. I am perfectly capable of handling this myself. I was always the more dependable one in the relationship. I just wanted to meet the woman who was saddled with your pathetic, cheating, perverted, joke of an ass. I see now, though, that you two were made for each other. I am truly happy for you both. She gives you what you need: a vapid, useless, hole to poke. And she gets what she needs: someone to think she's pretty and to buy her things, like boobs."

At that, Jessica stood up and tipped her chair over in the process. "These boobs were paid for years ago! Mike, I'm leaving and if you ever want to see me again you'd better be in the car in two minutes!"

With that she huffed and stomped her way out the front door.

Mike tried to reach out for Bella's hand but she was faster than chain lightning. With a resounding crack, her hand shot out and punched his face so hard he fell out of the chair.

"Just be thankful you were sitting, you asshole, or that fist would've been hitting your junk instead. Now, I believe you have a skank train to catch."

Mike got up holding a hand to his jaw and threw a wad of bills on the table before shuffling out the door.

The room erupted into applause, catcalls and several offers to "buy that little lady a drink!" Bella blushed, then awkwardly stood up and ambled over to the bar, taking a seat right in front of me.

She turned to the room and waved like the Queen Mother at a parade. "Thanks, folks. I'm here all night. But I don't think the rest of the act will be returning!" More laughter followed her words, and she joined in with it.

It was the most beautiful sound I think I'd ever heard.

"I have to say, I have never in all my days seen a show like that one. Can I get you something to drink? It's on the house." She was coming down from her adrenaline high and I could see her nerves beginning to strain her precious façade.

"Yeah. That would be great. I'll have a double Oban, neat."

She was joking, right? She's asking for top shelf, single malt scotch when she's pregnant? She had to be joking.

She burst out laughing again, and I laughed along with her, happy that she was kidding.

"Oh, your face! It's priceless. The Preggo-mama asking for scotch! You think I'm kidding, don't you?" She was slapping the bar in her mirth, her face flushed to an exquisite shade of crimson.

"I certainly hope you are. I can't legally serve that to you, you know?"

"This is just too much. I have to call Angela. She'll love it. She really knows her stuff."

So she was Angela's sister. Damn. I wished I had met her before. She really was smokin', preggers or not.

"Wait. What are you talking about? What stuff?" I was confused.

"Angela does special effects on movie sets. This belly is one of them." She was still snickering occasionally, and her hands were once again rubbing the belly.

"So you're telling me that that is a fake? For real? You're not pregnant?" I knew my face was projecting a "what the fuck?" look, so I jumped the bar and landed neatly at her side. She was a bit startled but recovered quickly.

"May I?" I asked, tentatively reaching out a hand towards her. She nodded. I touched the belly, feeling the squishy firmness of it. She quickly grasped the hem of her shirt and pulled it up over the prosthesis. It looked real, but at the same time you could tell it wasn't real flesh. I pressed a hand to it again. Remembering my first thoughts of seeing her. I was almost disappointed.

"You look sad. Why?" She gazed up into my eyes, and I felt myself fall into the liquid vastness of the deep brown orbs.

I cleared my throat, debating what to say. I decided on the truth.

"When you came in, I thought you were positively radiant. Beautiful, pregnant fury, wrapped in a precocious package. I am just a bit let down that you're not really pregnant, I guess." Her face flashed several expressions before it settled into one of curiosity.

"So, what you're saying is, when I was pregnant I was beautiful? And now I'm, well, not?" She arched an eyebrow at me in question.

"No! No, I just mean that…well, hell. How do I say this without sounding like an idiot? I wished that I had a woman like you, carrying my child, so I could love you and the child, and worship you like you deserved."

Yep, that was gonna be the end of this conversation. Talk about creepy stalker man.

Looking away, I stepped back from her. Her petite hand reached out and grabbed my arm before I could move away.

"That has to be the most wonderful, amazing, thing any man has ever said to me." Her voice broke just a little on the last word. I looked back to her face and noticed she was trying not to cry.

"Don't cry. Really, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, even if it was in a nice way. I only…"

"Don't apologize. Seriously. I am just a bit overwhelmed at the moment. You just witnessed a woman come in and go all bat shit crazy on her ex and his skank. Announce before God and all the patrons that he wanted her to do perverted acts on his body, and then proceed to tell you that she's not really pregnant, and all you want to do is worship her…well, me. That's a metric fuckton of stuff to process all at once."

I couldn't believe my ears. She had to be the single most intriguing woman I had ever come across, and within five minutes of meeting her, I had practically professed my love for her. I knew in that moment that it was most likely the truth. I could see myself loving her, having children, watching them grow, seeing silver shoot through her hair. It was as though I suddenly developed the ability to see the future.

One lone tear spilled over, and rolled down her cheek. Without thinking, I reached out to wipe it away. The moment I touched her face something in me snapped. How dare that idiot treat her like he did. Cheating on her. Her, of all people! She was so much more than someone like that fuckwad deserved. My anger threatened to overpower me and I had to take deep breaths and focus on her lovely face to regain my composure.

"Are you alright?" Her lyrical voice echoed through my rage-induced haze.

I took another deep breath. "Yes. I'm fine now. I just had the most vicious urge to track that dumb-ass, motherfucker, down and beat him within an inch of his miserable life."

She gave a short laugh and smiled at me. "Well, you're not the first person to say that. I've had several offers. I only hope, with every fiber of my being, that I never have to see him again."

"I can promise you'll never see him in here again. I'll make damn sure of that." I knew that my voice was still exuding a level of heat that would've rivaled a volcano. My anger was still bubbling under the surface.

"You know, I have been sitting here listening to you profess your heart to me, and I don't even know your name. My name is Bella," she said extending her hand to me.

I reached out and took her dainty hand in mine.

"Jasper. Jasper Whitlock. I own this pub." Her eyes were still swimming with unshed tears, and I could feel the warmth radiating from her hand. I glanced down at it and noticed the redness and swelling that was beginning to appear from her knock-out punch.

"It's nice to meet you, Jasper." Her voice was husky with emotion, and I could imagine that voice turning sultry; inviting me to kiss her, hold her.

"I - I think you need some ice for this." God. She had me stuttering. I never stuttered.

"Yeah, that would be good."

We were both staring at each other. Neither of us moving. Just standing there, lingering in the moment.

I would ask her out. I knew she would say yes. I had a gut feeling about us. One day, I would see her truly pregnant, carrying my love for her.

Relinquishing myself to this mesmerizing vixen in front of me would be the one thing in my life I knew I would never regret.

"Bella, can I ask you a favor?" Her eyes twinkled with curiosity.

"Sure, Jasper. Anything."

"Remind me to never get on your bad side." She laughed.

Laughter had never sounded so wonderful, or promising, in all my life.

Your House lyrics by Alanis Morrisette

I went to your house

Walked up the stairs

I opened your door without ringing the bell

I walked down the hall

Into your room

Where I could smell you

And I shouldn't be here,

without permission

I shouldn't be here

Would you forgive me love

If I danced in your shower

Would you forgive me love

If I laid in your bed

Would you forgive me love

If I stay all afternoon

I took off my clothes

Put on your robe

I went through your drawers

And found your cologne

I went down to the den

I found your cd's

And I played your Joni

And I shouldn't stay long,

you might be home soon

I shouldn't stay long

Would you forgive me love

If I danced in your shower

Would you forgive me love

If I laid in your bed

Would you forgive me love

If I stay all afternoon

I burned your incense

I ran a bath

And I noticed a letter that sat on your desk

It said "Hello love, I love you so love, meet me at midnight"

And no, it wasn't my writing

I'd better go soon

It wasn't my writing

So forgive me love

If I cry in your shower

So forgive me love

For the salt in your bed

So forgive me love

If I cry all afternoon

You Oughta Know by Alanis Morrisette

I want you to know, that I'm happy for you

I wish nothing but the best for you both

An older version of me

Is she perverted like me

Would she go down on you in a theatre

Does she speak eloquently

And would she have your baby

I'm sure she'd make a really excellent mother

Cause the love that you gave that we made wasn't able

To make it enough for you to be open wide, no

And every time you speak her name

Does she know how you told me you'd hold me

Until you died, till you died

But you're still alive

And I'm here to remind you

Of the mess you left when you went away

It's not fair to deny me

Of the cross I bear that you gave to me

You, you, you oughta know

You seem very well, things look peaceful

I'm not quite as well, I thought you should know

Did you forget about me Mr. Duplicity

I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner

It was a slap in the face how quickly I was replaced

Are you thinking of me when you fuck her

Cause the love that you gave that we made wasn't able

To make it enough for you to be open wide, no

And every time you speak her name

Does she know how you told me you'd hold me

Until you died, til you died

But you're still alive

And I'm here to remind you

Of the mess you left when you went away

It's not fair to deny me

Of the cross I bear that you gave to me

You, you, you oughta know

Cause the joke that you laid on the bed that was me

And I'm not gonna fade

As soon as you close your eyes and you know it

And every time I scratch my nails down someone else's backI hope you feel it...well can you feel it

And I'm here to remind you

Of the mess you left when you went away

It's not fair to deny me

Of the cross I bear that you gave to me

You, you, you oughta know

Hope y'all enjoyed a bit of Mike bashing. My sincere apologies to any accountants who may have been offended at Jasper's comment. He told me to write it.