#( ;; makes a serious thing. okay. whew. )

[wranglens]

❝ and  when  that  warm  air  and  moisture  busts  through  the  cap  ,      it  explodes  in  the  atmosphere  ,      creating  an  anvil  ,      and  the  vertical  wind  sheer  begins  to  rotate  the  updraft  ,      forming  a  mesocyclone    …      we  don't  know  how  a  tornado  forms  .      we  see  the  hook  on  the  radar  ,      but      [  …  ]      it's  a  mix  of  what  we  know  and  everything  we  can't  understand  .      it's  part  science  ,      part  religion  . ❞

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤindependent  ,      selective  ,      private  . ㅤㅤ 𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐬 from twisters (2024) . wrangled by kat , she/her , 28 .

[pukefactory]

GRAHHH SERVICE/ EMOTIONAL SUPPORT GOOB X DISABLED READER PLSSS

This is such a wonderful prompt! As someone who experiences both mental and physical challenges, I really enjoyed imagining Goob as a potential service companion.

꒷꒦⋆⑅˚₊ WARMPOP ��˚⑅⋆꒷꒦

↻ Summary: A compilation of headcanons about an emotional support Goob with a disabled reader

↻ Character(s): Goob (Dandy’s World)

↻ Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, SFW

↻ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

↻ Image Credits: tacoeate on X

⋟ Goob is incredibly attentive. The second he notices you struggling, whether it’s physically or emotionally, he’s right there—big, noodly arms ready to assist. He doesn’t always understand what’s wrong, but he will try to fix it with the only solution he truly believes in: hugs.

⋟ He has a sixth sense when it comes to your needs. Didn’t ask for help? Doesn’t matter. He’s already holding out his hands to steady you, already bouncing in place, waiting for you to lean on him. He’s not overbearing, but the moment you hesitate, he’s got that look in his eye. The hug look.

⋟ If mobility is a concern, Goob has mastered the art of making sure you don’t overexert yourself. He’ll offer his arm to help support you, and if you so much as wobble? He scoops you up effortlessly, grinning like it’s the best thing ever. “I gotcha! See? Easy peasy!”

⋟ If chronic pain is an issue, Goob treats rest like a serious mission. You’re not allowed to overdo it—he will physically guide you to the nearest comfy surface, plop down next to you, and dramatically sigh like he is the one who’s exhausted. “Whew! We better take a break! Yup, a really long one!”

⋟ Emotional support? Oh, Goob excels. Having a bad day? He’s pulling you into the softest, warmest hug before you can even think about pushing through it alone. He doesn’t always have the right words, but he’s got an endless supply of unwavering comfort. “It’s okay! You don’t gotta be strong all the time. That’s why you got me!”

⋟ Goob has an internal radar for discomfort. If someone’s making you uneasy or if the environment is too overwhelming, he instinctively places himself between you and the stressor. It’s not intimidating—he’s still his big, goofy self—but his presence is unmistakably protective.

⋟ He has a habit of checking in constantly. Every few minutes, he asks, “You doin’ okay?” And if you try to brush it off with a too-fast “Yeah,” he just squints at you, unconvinced. He might not always get what’s wrong, but he knows when something is.

⋟ If sensory overload ever becomes an issue, Goob has a foolproof method: distraction cuddles. He wraps himself around you like a protective blanket, humming softly, sometimes even swaying a little to ground you. His fluff is ridiculously soft, and his presence alone is enough to drown out the noise.

⋟ He is absurdly proud of every little accomplishment. Stood up without wobbling? He cheers. Made it through a tough day? He’s throwing confetti (where did he even get it??). He hypes you up like you just won a championship game, and honestly? It’s kind of contagious.

⋟ If you ever thank him, really thank him, Goob malfunctions. He stares for a long second, like the words are too much for his little heart to handle. Then, with zero warning, he’s tackling you into a hug, squeezing way too tight. “I’m just really happy you’re happy!!”

[thriftedtchotchkes]

switching the positions

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: a collection of micro-fics chronicling the days of a very eventful week in the lives of you and joel miller (inspired by ariana grande's positions)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-outbreak, established relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, unprotected piv, rough sex, oral (f&m receiving), 69ing, mutual/guided masturbation, edging, mild exhibitionism, consensual somnophilia, squirting, rimming, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy kink, pregnant sex, panic attacks, mentions of parents, mentions of food

word count: 16.2k

moodboard by my sweet girl @cavillscurls ♡

a/n: whew, my pride and joy, a whole two months in the making. tysm to everyone who voted on the poll, and especially to @dinsdjrn for helping me tie this whole thing together and mya for listening to me yell about this for weeks. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!

SUNDAY

"Boy, I'm tryna meet your mama on a Sunday."

“She’s gonna hate me.”

“She’s not gonna hate you.”

Oh, you know this woman is going to hate you. It’s not that parents don’t like you. On the contrary, you actually get along great with people’s parents. Your friends’, your old roommate’s, your coworkers'—hell, even your own. It’s just that moms, specifically, can smell fear, and Joel’s mom is going to smell the terror wafting off of you from a mile away. 

Not that it’s personal or anything. You’re pretty sure she’d hate anyone dating her baby boy. It’s like, a boy-mom thing. Still doesn’t make you feel any better about your boyfriend’s mom potentially hating you.

“Whose idea was this dinner again?” Because if it was Joel’s, then he can still reschedule or fake an illness or, better yet, call the whole thing off.

“Baby, you know it was hers,” he replies from his spot at the edge of the bed, where he’s been watching you pace the room and throw half the closet on the floor for the past hour. You shoot him an exasperated look.

“But did you have to say yes? Isn’t it kind of early for me to be meeting your mom anyway?” 

He looks at you like you have ten heads, but you ignore him, debating two shirts in the mirror, then deciding they’re both terrible and adding them to the pile on the floor.

“It’s been a year and a half. If we wait any longer, she’ll be meetin’ you at the weddin’,” he sighs, running his hands frustratedly down his face. You pause your closet tornado to stare at him, wide-eyed, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m just sayin’, I think it’d be good for y’all to meet, is all.”

Good for who? Certainly not you. Honestly, this dinner could have serious repercussions for your relationship. It’s entirely possible she could convince him to break up with you after the night’s over. Or that you’re a bad role model and shouldn’t be allowed around Sarah anymore. Your stomach lurches violently at the thought. Then, it hits you—

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair enough—but have we thought about who’s gonna watch Sarah tonight? We can’t just leave her by herself, and I’m sure your mom would totally understand that,” you try to reason but, again, Joel’s not going for it. 

“She’s 14 years old, I think she can handle a couple hours alone,” he deadpans. “Baby, c’mon, it’s not gonna be that bad. Please? Is it really too much to ask for the woman I love to meet my momma?” 

You soften at that. Logically, you know he’s right and it’s not fair for you to keep giving him such a hard time. You’re also pre-judging someone really special to him, and now you feel like the shittiest girlfriend in the world.

“You’re right. I know you’re right—I’m sorry,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. You’re not sure why you’re feeling so insecure about all this. “I just want her to like me, you know?”

He nods, lips quirking into a small smile, and pats his lap. You fall into his arms and he rocks you for a moment, kissing your hair, then your cheek. The anxiety’s starting to subside and you’re grateful for him, your sweet boyfriend who never asks you for anything. Your eyes meet his, and he leans in to kiss you softly, deeply, then pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“I know ya do,” he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles into your thigh. “And she will, alright? Just give her a chance like she’s givin’ you one.” 

So, for Joel, you do. Turns out his mom is lovely and wonderful, just like her son, and now you have a lot to make up for.

MONDAY

"Then make a lotta love on a Monday."

It’s early and yet, somehow, you’re already awake and feeling like it’s going to be a good day. There’s no alarm clocks blaring, no feet stomping up and down the stairs. Just sweet, blissful sunlight, and it feels so good this morning. Warm and wet and, god, right there—please, keep going right there.

You reach out to feel its light against your hands and between your fingers, and it hums, sending sweet vibrations up your arms, all the way down to your thighs. Heat starts to bloom in your belly as the sun rises higher, burning hotter and hotter, and your fingers tense, tugging at its soft rays. 

Everything feels so much wetter now, and there’s no way you’re not sweating right through your shirt and into the sheets. Even your underwear is soaked, your cunt pleasurably slick and dripping as you pant softly into your pillow.

Then, all of it suddenly intensifies and you’re enveloped by a wet, dextrous warmth that circles and circles, dipping into you, fucking into you, and suddenly, you’re so, so close—

And then you’re cumming with a loud sob, hips bucking with every spasm until something broad and strong splays across your stomach and pushes you back down into the sheets. 

It's…you realize it’s Joel. Balmy and beautiful like the morning sun. He groans as you gush into his mouth, lapping up everything you give him, and you’re vaguely aware of the bed shifting under you as he grinds his hips into the mattress for relief. 

“…B-baby? What—what’s going on…,” you slur sleepily, hands tugging harder at his hair as he continues to suckle your clit through the aftershocks. You whine at the oversensitivity, and he pulls off to press one last kiss to your heat before throwing the sheets off behind his head.

His eyes meet yours and, fuck, he looks wrecked. His hair is in complete disarray and his eyes are a little wild…and then there’s the giant tent in his boxers and that delicious wet spot that makes your mouth water. He doesn’t respond—just crawls up your body to crash his lips against yours, licking into your mouth, and all you can taste is yourself when his tongue brushes against yours.

You moan into his mouth as he grinds into your sensitive core, then parts from your lips just long enough to pull your sweat-soaked shirt up and over your head. The cool morning air feels like heaven against your feverish skin and, with the sheets gone, you can feel a cool breeze coming through the open window, amplified by the oscillating fan next to the bed.

Christ, he must be so pent up by now. Your brain is finally starting to clear from its post-sleep fog, and now you’re wondering how long he’s been between your legs, eating you out like you’re the heartiest breakfast he’s ever had in his life. 

But that train of thought is quickly derailed when his lips find a new home around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and circling his tongue around the nub until it hardens. The delicate skin feels especially tender, and you whimper quietly as the roughness of his beard scrapes against you. Your fingers thread back into his hair and you tug, urging him back up so you can feel his mouth on yours again. 

“Joel, fuck me,” you murmur against his lips, and his breath hitches. “Wanna feel you—please.” 

The sensitivity must’ve already subsided because your hips are steadily meeting his and you’re feeling so desperate to have him inside you. His cock feels heavy as he rubs himself against your slick cunt and, while the fabric provides the most incredible friction when it grazes your clit, you want him bare immediately. 

“Now…ngh—now,” you whine, and you’re stunned he still has the patience to tease when he pulls away slightly to smirk down at you.

“Needy girl this morning, ain’t ya?” His voice is thick with sleep and so much desire, and it makes your still locked-down pussy clench painfully. “S’alright, baby, ‘m gonna give it to ya.”

Wrenching his boxers down, he grips under your legs to push both of your knees to your chest before nudging the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. He inches in just the tip and immediately lets out a whoosh of air.

“So fuckin’ tight, Jesus Christ,” he grits through his teeth, working himself in and out of you until he’s buried to the hilt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against you just right. He lingers for a brief moment, grinding into you deeply, languidly while you adjust to his girth.

"S'good. Feels good," you murmur, sighing contently. He's brushing that spot he can only reach when he fucks you like this, so you lock your ankles behind his back, silently telling him to stay. But it feels a little selfish, and you can feel how much he's holding back.

"Baby...I gotta move," he pants, trembling with the effort it's taking not to lengthen his thrusts. Pulling out slowly, he presses back into you deep enough to nudge that spot again, and your vision goes hazy. "Promise, I'll take care of ya—"

You moan in unison as you flutter around him, and he takes that as the go-ahead to continue, his cock reappearing wetter and shinier after every stroke. His skin is glistening, too, slick with sweat that runs down his temples and pools where your bodies connect. 

The heat of him is addictive and it's everywhere—blooming in your chest, blazing between your legs, and igniting something fathomless inside you. But somehow, it's still not hot enough. You know he can give you more, your blindingly beautiful sun.

Wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders, you squeeze your thighs into his sides to pull him flush against your body, and you can feel his heartbeat pounding through his chest. The steady rhythm matches his thrusts perfectly, but he's groaning so sweetly in your ear that you have a feeling it won't for long.

You belatedly realize how hard you're clenching around him, suddenly so close to tumbling over the edge for the second time this morning, and he redoubles his efforts to follow you.

"L-like that, keep going just like that," you encourage between sharp exhales. "That—that's it."

He braces a hand next to your head on the pillow to stabilize himself, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist, grounding yourself to him. His eyes meet yours fondly before he buries his face into the crook of your neck to do the same, panting heavily against your skin.

Soft, brown curls tickle your cheek, and you turn your head to nose into his hair, breathing him in. He smells earthy like freshly-mown grass and sawdust, and it fills your lungs, surrounding you just when you need it the most. 

You gasp in his air, hips swiveling into his desperately as you chase your release. He's slamming directly into that spot now, pushing your knees back into your chest to reach even deeper, but his thighs are starting to tense.

"'m not gonna last long," he admits breathily, all but folding you in half so he can brush his lips against yours. "S'too good...gonna make me cum so hard."

"Please...please, please." Fuck, you want to feel it. To feel him pulsing inside you, filling you up so good, so much. "Joel, cum—please cum."

So close, you're so close. Your soft sighs have evolved into something louder and higher-pitched. Too loud for this early in the morning, and enough to wake up the entire house if you're not careful.

Joel seals his mouth over yours, swallowing every noise that escapes your lips as he pounds into you with purpose, dragging against your walls, and it's...fuck, you're—

Gushing, sobbing as you cum, and he groans, long and drawn out, immediately following you over the edge. Releasing your legs, he digs his fingers into your hips to hold you in place, keeping his cock buried deep inside you as you milk him dry.

"Fuck me," he exhales shakily, pumping into you twice before pulling out and collapsing on top of you. "Good fuckin' morning."

A breathy laugh bubbles out of your chest, but you immediately cringe at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you and onto the sheets. You wedge a hand between your bodies, reaching down to swipe your thumb between your folds and procure a glob that you suck wetly into your mouth. 

"Very good fuckin' morning," you smile cheekily at the look of awe on his face. He shakes his head, chuckling as he wraps you up in his arms and rolls you over onto your sides. His chest expands into you with a massive yawn, and you're helpless but to mirror him.

"How much time we got until the alarm?" he mutters sleepily, sounding like he could pass out at any moment. You're craning your head back to check when—

The damn thing starts blaring before you can even catch a glimpse of the time. Not that you need to now—it's 6 a.m., your mortal enemy. You glare at the clock like it personally offended you, and Joel only chuckles, pulling you back down with him.

"Snooze it," he murmurs, mouthing damply at your neck, his hands exploring your soft, bare skin. "We still got time."

You barely hear him, already lost in the feeling of his fingers skimming up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. He leans over you to hit the button himself before returning to you, kissing you like you've both got all the time in the world.

Neither of you makes it to work on time.

TUESDAY

"Cookin' in the kitchen, and I'm in the bedroom."

The oven is broken. Probably. The stove, too. It’s really not your fault—all you did was turn some knobs and stand there, but for some reason, none of the burners are catching and the oven sure isn’t cooking this chicken like it’s supposed to.

You don't even like chicken but, for some ungodly reason, you've had a wicked craving for it lately. And Joel loves it, so. That explains why you’re in the kitchen, getting side-eyed by a very skeptical 14 year old, trying to cook a nice dinner for her very overworked father. It’s not going well.

“Did you hear it click when you tried turning it on?” Sarah asks patiently, and now it’s your turn to look skeptical.

“Uhh, the knob or the stove?” You eye the appliance dubiously like it’s doing whatever it’s doing on purpose. She laughs pointing to one of the burners.

“So, when you twist the knob, gas comes out of here,” she taps the grating around the burner, “and the clicking creates a spark that ignites the gas so it lights. Then, voila, you’ve got a working stove.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly, looking back and forth between her and the stove until she finally gets the hint.

“Fine, fine. I can do it,” she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. And of course, the stupid thing works with zero issues when she does it. You give her a grateful smile before throwing the dirtiest glare you can muster at the oven.

“What do we do about that one? I guess I could try cooking the whole chicken in a big pan, but I can’t guarantee we won’t all die from food poisoning…,” you trail off, starting to feel a little useless. 

It’s not like you’re completely inept in the kitchen. You can use a toaster or a microwave like a damn pro, and even the blender if you’re feeling especially adventurous, but you’ve never made a big meal like this before. Sarah likes to cook when you’re not ordering out, which admittedly is most of the time, so this was supposed to be something special for her, too. 

“It’s the same general concept,” she says, still kind and patient as ever, squatting down to show you a different set of knobs. You observe her for a moment, missing the start of her explanation, because it’s times like these where you can see so much of Joel in her. 

It’s that spark in her eyes when she gets to share bits of her well-earned knowledge. To use her expertise to teach someone something brand new. Joel gets the same look when he’s trying to teach you guitar. His eyes shine when you finally get a chord down, and he downright beams when you can finish an entire bar by yourself. 

You must’ve zoned out for too long because she’s suddenly waving a hand in front of your face, smiling her dad’s sweet smile as she waits for your focus to return to the task at hand. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. What did I miss?” you ask sheepishly. She nods to the oven, already lit and heating up to the required 400 degrees Fahrenheit for cooking baked chicken.

“All good! It’s set for whenever you’ve got the food prepped. You just have to wait for it to hit temperature—it’ll beep when it’s ready,” she says, walking around the kitchen island to grab her backpack. 

…Wait. She’s leaving?

“Woah, wait, where are you going? You can’t leave yet,” you plead, still desperate for her help. “What if I burn the house down?”

“You’re not gonna burn down the house,” she snorts, already at the door tugging on her sneakers. “Just remember to turn off the burners and you’ll be fine. And save me some food!… Unless everyone gets sick, then maybe don’t.”

You shoot her a look of absolute betrayal, and she laughs, opening the front door and waving over her shoulder. 

“See ya later! Good luck, I believe in you!” 

And then she’s gone, and you’re left alone with your misery and a bunch of random ingredients you still have to magically make into a meal.

You slump against the counter, lamenting the loss of your sous chef until the oven beeps, scaring the shit out of you. Oh, great. You’ve barely even started seasoning the chicken. It can’t be that hard, right?

Twenty minutes later, you’re standing in front of a very peppery-looking raw chicken—which is officially disgusting again, you changed your mind—wishing you had just ordered Boston Market and lied about making it yourself. Lesson learned for next time. Like there’ll be a next time.

Well, at least no one can say you didn’t try. You throw a bunch of mixed vegetables into the bottom of the pan like the recipe says and pop it in the oven, setting the timer for 40 minutes and hoping for the best. 

Glancing at the clock above the sink, you realize you’re cutting it close on time. You told Joel to be home by eight, which means he’ll probably actually get here at nine, and it’s already 7:30. Yikes. Time flies when you’re trying not to fuck up a dinner that was doomed from the start.

The last piece of the puzzle is thankfully the easiest. Now, mashed potatoes are definitely something you can make. Boiling water? Piece of cake. Pouring in the instant flakes from the box and adding butter? Done and done.

There’s no way anyone’ll be able to tell you didn’t make them from scratch unless they check the trash and, anyways, the instant stuff is better. You’ll go down with that ship. 

Now for the pièce de résistance: the perfect evening attire. A cute, 50s-era apron you thrifted two weeks ago that’ll go over the teeny, tiny Victoria’s Secret lingerie set you’ve been hiding in the back of the closet.

Joel will probably think it’s hilarious, once he stops drooling. Hopefully you’ll even make it to dinner, otherwise, the stress of this entire afternoon was a totally moot point. But he’ll have to be a good boy and finish his food before he can have dessert—apple pie you definitely didn’t make, and you laid out on his bed like the best fucking treat he’ll ever taste.

You end up with enough time to take the chicken and veggies out of the oven—the meat thermometer tells you it’s cooked through and that’s good enough for you—and stir up the mashed potatoes before you have to head upstairs to get everything else ready. So far, surprisingly, so good. 

You’re in the middle of patting yourself on the back for a job well-done, with time to spare, when you hear the front door open. At eight fucking thirty. This would be the one day Joel gets home early and, by the sounds of dishware and cutlery clinking around downstairs, he’s already discovered your big surprise. 

“Baby, you up there?” he calls up the stairs. “What’s all this?”

Well. Guess it’s showtime. You finish tying the apron around your waist before giving yourself one last once over in the mirror. Everything fits perfectly, just like you knew it would, and the food’s done, for better or worse. So there’s no need to be nervous, right? It’s just Joel. Your Joel. He’d love it no matter what, even if it all ends up being total shit. 

Taking a steadying breath, you head down the stairs, letting your appearance serve as his answer. The apron rubs scratchily against your skin, a reminder of how naked you actually are underneath, and you let your confidence in Joel’s inevitably wanton reaction make you brave.

And he doesn’t disappoint. His eyes rove over you greedily, from the pout of your lips to the tiniest slip of your nipple peeking over your bra, all the way down to the soft, bare skin of your legs. Yeah, no need to be nervous at all.

“Just a little surprise I cooked up,” you smirk a little deviously as you reach the bottom of the stairs. He’s on you in a second, hands exploring your body eagerly, impatiently, as he leans in to kiss you, but he’s halted by a finger to his lips. “Uh-uh. Can’t have dessert yet. There’s a whole meal waiting for you—I made your favorite.”

He chuckles, gingerly pressing a kiss to your finger instead before leading you backward into the kitchen. 

“Well, let’s get started then. I’m starvin’,” he says, looking hungrier than you’ve ever seen him. You return his gaze, suddenly feeling ravenous yourself.

“Good. It’s dinner time.”

WEDNESDAY

"Wrist icicle, ride dick bicycle."

Spin class sucks.

There’s really no need for the music to be this loud. And it’s bad. They say it’s supposed to amp you up for rigorous exercise, but it’s just giving you a headache.

It’s also about a thousand degrees in here, and you’d be leaving a massive pool of sweat on this seat if you were even allowed to sit on it. The whole concept of spinning makes no sense, and you’re starting to think it’s actually just a dance class on stationary bikes because no one in their right mind would ever ride a bicycle like this. 

It’s embarrassing, for starters, and you’re surrounded by hot people that are way better at it than you are. You didn’t even know you could gyrate on a fucking bike until today, and they all somehow make it look sexy. Like they’re legitimately having a great time. Having fun. 

But not you. The music might honestly be doing you a favor by drowning out your pathetic attempts to breathe. You’re starting to get a little lightheaded and feel like you’re about to be sick.

No workout is worth this. You can’t even pretend to follow the instructor’s directions, because you can barely hear her over the speakers. She probably can't even hear herself, yelling into the void of shitty EDM remixes, and expecting everyone to pick it up. If you’d known this was just some fucked up version of leg day, you would’ve skipped it. 

There's no sneaking out early, either. You took the bus and Joel won’t be here to pick you up for at least another half hour. Honestly, you'd rather walk home and let that be your exercise for the day, but unless you plan on jogging along the highway, you're shit out of luck.

The beat abruptly picks back up, startling you out of your personal pity party, and then everyone's asses are in the air again, hips swiveling so perfectly in sync that it has to be choreographed. You're getting the hang of it now that you're realizing the routine just repeats itself, but it still feels mildly exploitative. 

It doesn't help that your class is starting to draw in a crowd, likely attracted by all of the revealing athletic wear on display. At least you got that memo. Whoever had the bright idea to put a huge glass wall at the back of the room was either a genius or a pervert. Probably both, depending on who you ask.

Once the hardest section of the choreography passes, you look behind you to check the time, praying more than you think has passed, but you're sorely disappointed. And the crowd outside's only gotten bigger.

Don't these assholes have anything better to do than stand there drooling over a spin class? You continue to glare at them over your shoulder through the next part of the song, looking a little ridiculous grinding into your seat as you silently tell them all off.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch one of them off to the side laughing, but when you turn to send an even harsher look in their direction, you realize you recognize him. 

What a dick. If you'd known he was going to be this early, you definitely would've snuck out and waited outside instead of becoming another piece of eye candy for a bunch of gym rats. 

Joel looks a little too pleased with himself, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed like he’s enjoying the view as much as the rest of those creeps. Well, if he wants a show, then you’ll give him one. Now that you’ve gotten the movements down, you can put all of your energy into making him wish there wasn’t an entire glass wall separating him from you. 

That one, grueling section of the song loops back around, and this time you put your all into it, arching like you’re supposed to, swiveling your hips into the seat with all of the muscle control you’ve got. Your shorts ride up your ass at the change in movement, probably giving you a wicked camel toe, but you let them. You can only imagine the look on Joel’s face now.

The song starts to wind down, finally coming to a stop, and you lower yourself back onto the seat, panting with the exertion of the past 45 minutes. Turning back around, you notice the crowd has mostly dispersed, save for a few stragglers and Joel, who’s panting almost as hard as you are. 

Your eyes drop to his pants, and you quirk an eyebrow. His breathing’s not the only thing that’s hard. He looks a little wrecked and, suddenly, this whole workout thing feels like it might’ve been worth it after all. 

You hop off the bike and retrieve your duffel from the back of the room, teasingly flicking the glass in front of his face before exiting with the rest of the class.

"Ready to go?" you ask brightly, still feeling high off the endorphin rush. He doesn't respond, looking a little dazed as he watches a droplet of sweat run down your neck, past your collarbone, and right between your breasts. "You doing alright there, bud?"

You laugh, enjoying your revenge a little too much, reveling in the way his jaw tenses and the muscles in his neck twitch angrily. It’s about to be a very interesting ride home—or it would’ve been if you’d made it that far. 

On the way out, you pass an out-of-order men’s room, and he yanks you inside, locking the door behind you.

It's a little surprising he's this pent up after the night you had, especially with the sheer amount of sex you’ve been having lately—not that you're complaining. But what's even more surprising is that he's choosing right now to rectify it, basically in public where anyone could overhear or walk in on you. It's...really out of character for him. You thought he'd at least make it to the car.

“Joel, what the—,” you yelp as he lifts you up by the waist to settle you on the edge of a sink. It's clear his patience has completely run out because, within seconds, he's dropping to his knees, burying his face in your heat. "—fuck."

Your legs immediately try to close around his head, but he forces them back open with enough strength to overextend your already abused hamstrings. It shouldn't feel as good as it does, but the pain, combined with his blunt nails biting into your thighs, sends delicious jolts right to your core. 

You exhale shakily, burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks a damp patch into your shorts, just slightly lower than where you need him. Your hips buck, urging him higher, but he doesn't allow that either, shoving them back down onto the hard porcelain beneath you.

Should've known it wouldn't be that easy. He's handling you aggressively, rougher than you would've expected, and that's when you realize he's mad.

"Bet ya thought that was real funny, teasin' me like that," he growls into your clothed pussy, licking up the seam to swirl wet circles where your clit throbs under too many layers. "Don't feel very nice, does it?"

His eyes meet yours as he sucks a little harder, and you whimper, tugging at his hair in a silent plea for him to take your shorts off and eat you out the way you both want him to. But he's going to drag this out and you know it. 

Joel loves a little payback and has the patience of a saint unless he's pushed past his limit. To your detriment, you shoved him over that line with the stunt you pulled earlier, so now you'll have to convince him it's in his best interest to let it go.

Switching tactics, you tempt him with what he could have if he just gave in. Your fingers dip beneath your waistband, and you sigh as you slick them up against your folds before dipping them inside. You're already soaked, and so tight, even around two of your own fingers, and you tell him as much.

"No, it doesn't feel nice...but I know something that will," you pump your fingers in and out of yourself, the muted sound of wet squelching reaching your ears. "Hear that?—," you gasp, hips lifting off the sink as you accidentally graze something spongey and sensitive, "—t-that's all for you."

And it works like a charm. Your shorts and underwear are pulled off in a single, hard tug, his tongue fucking into you before you can even fully inhale, and you choke out a strangled moan instead. He eats you out like a man starved, his nose nudging your clit with every dip of his tongue, and it feels so potent, you practically see stars. 

Your combined slick and his saliva are starting to leak over the edge of the sink but he catches every drop, and the way he slurps you up makes your cheeks burn. Joel's a lot of things when he's between your legs—enthusiastic, generous, and a little sloppy, but he's never wasteful. 

Two thick fingers prod at your entrance, and then he's pressing them into you, the slide snug, but easy with how wet you are for him. Finally, finally, you can feel your orgasm building, and you're sent reeling when his tongue fucks into you between his fingers, filling you up—it's...yes, right there—

But he abruptly pulls his mouth away, still not done making you pay.

"Damn right, it's all for me. Ya think those jackasses watching you weren't thinkin' about this?" he growls, his fingers slowing to leisurely stroke your walls as if they weren't about to throw you over the edge a moment ago. "Think they could make you feel this good? Make you cum like I do?"

Your pussy flutters pathetically around him, and the false look of sympathy he gives you makes you want to cry out of sheer frustration.

"Gonna need an answer if you want me to keep goin'," he drawls, still close enough that you can feel his breath, hot against your cunt.

You bite down on your bottom lip, just hard enough to momentarily distract yourself from the aching between your legs so you can respond, but you're taking too long. His fingers have all but stopped, so you panic.

"Fuck those assholes. Fuck all of them," you grit through your teeth. He quirks an eyebrow, marginally picking up the pace of his fingers.

"Fuck 'em, huh? That what you wanna do?" He's teasing you, and even though it's obvious, you fall right into his trap, anyway. Blanching, you shake your head furiously.

"N-no—no, no, no. Just you, only wanna fuck you," you gasp, frantically trying to convince him of something you both already know to be true without a shadow of a doubt. It's honestly impressive that he can work you like this and, even more so, that he's the only one that can.

"S'okay, I know...I know. This right here—," he gives your clit a few kitten licks, the pads of his fingertips rubbing that perfect spot inside you, "—s'mine." 

Then, he's burying his face back between your legs, redoubling his efforts, and it's so fucking sloppy. Wet and hot, and hungry, as if edging you has the same effect on him. 

You feel him groan into you as you start to tighten around his fingers, loud enough that his chest rumbles with it, sending sweet vibrations up your thighs. The sound of his belt jingling, then hitting the floor vaguely makes it past the blood rushing in your ears, but his broad shoulders and head bobbing between your legs are blocking your view.

All you can see or hear is the frantic movement of his arm, his hand working up and down his cock, and the sound of skin slapping on skin. Fuck, that's—so hot, you're so close. So fucking close—

But he's got one last edge left in him. 

You're throbbing so violently that for a second you're terrified he ruined your orgasm, but no, you're still teetering on the cusp, thighs quaking so hard, you can’t believe you haven’t crushed his head between them already. At this point, the smallest touch, even the tiniest puff of air would send you hurtling over.

He's still jerking himself off, sounding delirious as he separates his mouth from you to speak.

"Need to hear ya s-say it...," he pants, and you cry out, angrily reaching down to roughly shove his face back into you, but he resists. Spurred on by your reaction, he only fucks into his fist faster. “Nobody else gets to taste ya like I do…do they? Say it. Say it and I'll…ngh—let you cum,” he moans lowly, possessively. 

Joel sounds completely gone. You never could've imagined dry humping a fucking stationary bike would set him off like this, or that a bunch of dumb muscleheads would make him this jealous. He's so lost in it, in you. 

But the way he's looking up at you right now—it's like he really does need you to do this for him. To tell him that it’s just him, and it’ll only ever be him. It’s the truth. No one else has ever made you feel the way he does, with his mouth and hands, or his heart, and they never will again.

You whine, shaking your head pleadingly, ready to tell him whatever he wants to hear. Anything for him to put his mouth back on you again.

"T-they don't—no one else gets to, but you...only you," you keen as he seals his lips around your clit, all of his fears and insecurities finally soothed. Your head tips back, the feeling of his hot tongue laving over the sensitive bundle of nerves and his thick fingers—three of them, now—dragging against your walls exactly what you need. 

You cum frighteningly quickly, your orgasm so powerful and overwhelming that you start to black out. Your eyes squeeze shut, and then it’s all just pleasure—the tension in all of your limbs slowly bleeds out with every spasm of your cunt, and something wet…so wet, splashes against your inner thighs. 

Joel groans louder than you think you’ve ever heard him, the sound practically punched out of his chest as he licks broader lines up your pussy, sucking and slurping, and what…what is that? Why the fuck are you so wet? He—did Joel cum on you, and you didn’t even notice?

But that’s impossible because now his body’s completely seizing up, the hand around his cock stilling as he spurts thick ropes of cum across the bathroom floor. Or at least that’s the image your brain conjures up, unable to see it for yourself. 

Your vision’s only just beginning to return to you, and you immediately look down to see what actually happened...and fuck. It was you. Joel’s head is resting on your thigh, nuzzling into your soft, very damp skin, and he's looking up at you in awe.

“Shit, baby…,” he pants, chest heaving, cock still twitching in his hand. "Ain't ever seen you do that before."

You blink blearily, lips parting as you take him in. He's a goddamn mess. His face and beard are soaked, and his shirt is splattered with what you can only assume is your release. You fucking squirted? In a dirty gym bathroom?

"What the fuck?" you mumble, still dazed and a little in disbelief at how your first, and probably last, trip to the gym went. You shake your head, clearing up the brain fog enough to quickly process the past two hours, and now you're in shock. "Joel, what the fuck?" you ask again incredulously.

He has the nerve to look sheepish where he's still happily nestled between your legs post-orgasm, and you bop the top of his head with your palm, eyeing him expectantly.

"Wanna explain what all of that was?"

"Look—," he starts, lips quirking down into that little frown you know so well. "If you'd've heard the shit those fuckers were sayin' about ya. Probably would've said worse if I hadn't told 'em to fuck off before they got into some real trouble."

"Wait, you were the reason they all took off? Joel," you laugh because suddenly it all makes sense. 

You just learned the hard way that a grumpy, jealous Joel means getting edged until you black out. Pretty good knowledge to have for future reference, to be honest. Now that you're not sobbing with his head between your legs, it all seems so silly.

"What, did ya expect me to just stand there and let 'em talk about fuckin' my girl right in front of me?"

"I mean, no, but...I dunno, maybe just take the compliment next time and don't threaten a group of scary, muscular men," you chuckle fondly, cupping his wet cheeks in your hands. "Okay? It basically just means you have a hot girlfriend. Congratulations!" 

But he only grumbles in response, still pouting like a child. You bend down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

"What if, when we get home, I show you some of the techniques I learned in my class?" you murmur into his hair. He tilts his head back, eyeing you skeptically.

"Baby, we don't have a stationary bike," he says, brows furrowed in confusion. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes dropping to his lap.

"That's okay. We won't need one."

THURSDAY

"You can't imagine what I'm 'bout to say. You really wanna know? You'll have to wait. (It's a surprise, surprise.)"

Blue, blue, blue. Just do it, just be blue! It's a great color—the best color, maybe even your favorite color.

You keep chanting at it, loudly and in your head, but the plastic stick doesn't seem to appreciate your encouragement. It just stares back at you, blank and unhelpful.

How much longer do the instructions say you have to wait? One to three minutes, that's it? It feels like it's already been two hours, but it's actually only been...30 seconds. What the fuck.

Maybe if you shake it, it'll develop faster. It's basically like a polaroid, right? And Outkast has never steered you wrong, so. You lean over from where you're still sitting on the toilet, pants around your ankles, to test your theory but it's too late.

It already has an answer for you. ...Wait, what? Both of the lines are blue. So...does that mean you're extra not pregnant? You snatch up the pamphlet again, actually reading through the directions this time, and your stomach drops. Pink was never even an option. 

Two blue lines. Pregnant.

You knew this week was going a little too well. 

Those random bouts of nausea, the weird cravings, the fucking breast tenderness. They didn't need to mean anything. They shouldn't have meant anything.

Fuck. Fuck. What are you supposed to do now? You're way too young to have a baby. Well. Okay, that's a massive lie, but still, you're definitely not ready to have one. Or to be…pregnant. You shudder at the thought. 

Swollen ankles, morning sickness, mood swings. You’re already a walking rollercoaster of emotions, and your back hurts from just existing. No, you can’t do this. 

It's not about the finances, either. You and Joel both have steady jobs and could make it work if you wanted to, but do you want to? Will he? He’s not your husband, not even your fiancée, so there’s no reason for him to stick around. It’s not his burden.

There's just too many unanswered questions. And Joel's already someone's dad. He did the whole baby thing by himself and got it right the first around.

Sarah's perfect—fuck, what is Sarah going to think? Stupid, this was so stupid. You thought you were being so careful. Sure, Joel cums inside you basically every time you have sex, but that's totally beside the point. 

You take those dumb little pills at the same time every day, just like you're supposed to. Except…when’s the last time you had a period? Did you even get it last month? The month before? 

Shit, that wedding—when was that wedding? Your coworker’s, the rich one who decided to have a fucking destination wedding in Hawaii a couple months ago. It was decadent. You and Joel were super drunk the entire time and fucked like rabbits for three days straight. 

Fuck.

Don't cry. Do not cry. Joel will probably be back from picking Sarah up from soccer practice any minute, so you need to hold it together. Maybe you just won’t tell them, at least not until you’ve had more time to process everything and decide what you’re going to do.

But, god, you wear your emotions on your sleeve, and even more so on your face. They’ll know something’s off the second they look at you, and you won’t be able to talk yourself out of it. You’ve always been a shit liar. 

Tears start to fall without your permission. You slump slowly to the floor, pants still around your ankles, and curl up into a ball, willing it all to go away—the tiny clump of cells growing inside your belly and the regret of being so careless, of letting yourself get caught up in a serious relationship in the first place. This isn’t something you can just wish away. It’s life-changing and nothing will ever be the same again. Was it really worth it?

No, no. Of course, it was. Snap out of it.

If only it were that easy. Sobs wrack your entire body, and you can barely hear yourself choking on them, unable to hold them in anymore. Your eyes squeeze shut as you desperately try to block out your reality, but it seeps up your nose and into your mouth, salty and unignorable. 

Blood rushes in your ears and you realize belatedly that you’re starting to hyperventilate, but you can’t stop. You’re drawing in too much air all at once and it’s making your vision go fuzzy. It’s all just too much. Anger, sadness, and fear consume you until you’re screaming with it, desperate to expel it from your body any way you can.

So, you don’t hear the front door opening or Joel and Sarah running up the stairs, completely panic-stricken. 

Joel reaches the ensuite bathroom first and all but breaks down the door, but he’s met with the sight of your half-naked body in a heap on the floor. Immediately, he turns to block Sarah from getting in.

“Hey, hey—no,” he says firmly, wrapping her up in his arms to keep her from seeing past him. “You’re not goin’ in there. Ya gotta give us some time, alright?”

She looks up at him, scared and visibly shaken. 

“What if—do you think she’s okay in there? Was she hurt…d-did you see her?” she asks softly, eyes wet. “Can I see her?”

“Not right now, kiddo,” he mumbles, kicking the bathroom door shut behind him before leading her out of his room and into the hallway. “‘m sorry.”

The crestfallen look on Sarah’s face is the last thing he sees before he closes the door on her. But he has to ignore how badly it feels to keep her away from you, at least until he can figure out what the hell is wrong and how he’s going to fix it.

Your cries have quieted since earlier, but not nearly enough to ease Joel's fears. He can still hear you through the door, hiccuping softly, and opens it gently this time, entering slowly as if he's trying not to spook a scared animal.

It doesn't work as well as he'd hoped. Your head shoots up, a small gasp escaping your lips as you dizzily pull your pants back up.  

"Easy there, s'okay. Baby, s'just me, don't worry," he murmurs, dropping to his knees on the floor next to you, but you flinch away. You can only imagine the hurt in his eyes, and the mental image tugs at your heart. "I need ya to tell me what happened. Did ya hurt yourself?"

Yeah, you could say that.

You shake your head, the only thing you're capable of doing in the state you're in. Trying to speak would be useless after all the screaming you just did and you can't bear to look him in the eye.

"Hey, talk to me. If somethin's the matter, I need to know, 'specially if we gotta get you to the hospital," he says, reaching out to touch you. 

His hand grazes your shoulder, and your body jerks so viscerally that you slam your knees into the bottom of the sink. You let out a tiny whimper of pain right as you hear something small and plastic hit the ground next to you. 

Oh, no. Shit. You desperately try to kick the test out of reach, to cover it with your body—anything to keep him from seeing it—but his fingers wrap around it before you get the chance. He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth and you feel your whole world shattering. 

That's it, then. Even just a glance at those two blue lines will have immediately told Joel all he needs to know. Now he'll leave and he'd have every right. This is all your fault.

Your cheeks are wet again, but this time you can't bring yourself to care. Turning away from him, you curl back into a ball, ignoring the angry throbbing in your knees as you wait for him to yell or throw the test, or finally get up and walk out.

But he doesn't. Instead, you hear him delicately set the test back on the sink and then he lays down behind you on the floor, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your back into his chest.

His heartbeat is fast. It's racing against you and, yet, somehow his breathing is still so calm. The calm before the storm, you're sure of it. You tense, anticipation sitting heavily on your chest and lungs, and he can feel it.

His lips press into the back of your neck and even though the action is so tender and so Joel, you still can’t convince yourself that maybe you’ve misjudged this entire situation. Or that you’ve misjudged him.

“Sweetheart,” he sighs, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he isn’t calling you baby anymore. You can’t tell if that’s for your benefit or his. "Tell me what you're thinkin'."

Time feels like it's moving in slow motion. You really don't mean to ignore him…it’s just that you’re not thinking anything. Lying there in his arms, your mind goes blank, giving in to the white noise of his heartbeat syncopating your own fragile rhythm. 

But somehow he seems to understand you completely, filling the silence himself. His voice lulls you into a false sense of security, or…no. No, that’s not right. It’s real. His security, his safety, is real and reliable, proven and palpable.

“Listen to me—I need ya to hear this, alright? I want whatever you want and if ya don’t want this, we’re not doin’ it,” he says firmly, like he means it with every fiber of his being. You do hear him. But your heart and mind are still rebelling, begging you to see their own senseless logic. Joel won’t stop until he convinces them, too.

“But if ya do…if—,” his voice trails off, cracking almost imperceptibly. At least, to anyone else but you. “—if ya wanna do this with me, then ‘m with ya. Every step of the way, ‘m with ya.”

Then, for the first time since those blue lines appeared in your life, you feel peace. And it's all him. He’s given you a choice—one you knew you always had, but never thought to factor him into. You didn’t think you deserved to involve him. But he does. He deserves that choice, too.

The floodgates open and soon you’re sobbing uncontrollably again, but this time it feels cathartic. Like he’s freed you from a prison of your own making. You find your voice, wet and shaky.

“Joel, I’m scared,” you weep, turning in his arms to finally meet his eyes. And there they are. Brown and beautiful and clear, unclouded by fear and regret, and you let them make you brave. For him and your tiny clump of cells. 

“What if I can’t do this? What—I…,” you hiccup through the disjointed thought, “—if I give up…if it’s just too hard...”

“S’why there’s two of us,” he bends down to murmur soothingly into your cheek, lips brushing against the corner of your own. “But ya can’t push me away anymore. If we do this, then we do it together,” and that lances straight through your heart, obliterating all doubt and setting your decision in stone. 

Together. You’re in this together.

“Okay,” you croak, sniffling as he wipes away your tears. You repeat it, clearer this time. “Okay.”

FRIDAY

"You might think I'm crazy, the way I've been cravin'. If I put it quite plainly, just gimme them babies."

Doctors' offices have no business being as scary as they are. Bare and sterile, and not an ounce of color to be found anywhere but those creepy posters of in-depth diagrams of the human body. Gross.

You fight the urge to turn around and head straight back to the truck but, as if he can sense your plan to make a run for it, Joel places both hands on your shoulders and leads you toward the reception desk. 

“C’mon, we got this,” he says quietly in your ear, likely reassuring both of you. “We go in, they tell us you ’n the baby are healthy, then we get out.” 

You grimace. The baby. That’s still so weird. There’s literally a tiny being growing inside you, eating your food, and sitting on your fucking bladder. It’s like that thing in Alien that bursts out of people’s chests.

Great. Well, that’s officially off the list for movie night later, which Joel promised you'd have if you got your check-up without trying to escape. Technically, you’re doing great so far. And it’s an extremely tempting offer. 

Movie nights at the Miller house usually include a trip to 7/11 for popcorn, soda, and a box of your favorite candy. Those annoying cravings you’re just now realizing are because you’re pregnant would be extremely satiated by that. 

You’ll also get to curl up on the couch with Joel all night in a childless house because Sarah's staying at a friend’s. Win-win. But first, you have to make it through this check-up. 

Everything up until you’re inside the actual examination room isn’t actually so bad. The receptionist is nice enough, even though you can tell she deals with a lot of first-time moms by the way she treats you with baby gloves, and the wait time is less than 10 minutes. 

Yeah, you’ve totally got this. Or at least you did until the doctor shows up with an ultrasound machine and lifts your shirt to squeeze that freezing cold goop all over your stomach. You look up at Joel, scared and a little bewildered, and he takes your hand in his, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. The screen lights up with what you assume is a real-time view of the inside of your belly and, after that, it’s all sort of a blur. 

Six weeks. They tell you that you’re already six weeks pregnant, so you definitely conceived at that dumb wedding. At least you’ve got a story to tell. You’re also entering that fun stage where your nausea’s mostly cleared up, but now you’ll either be super tired or super horny at any given time. 

You try not to laugh when you feel Joel’s hand subtly twitch in yours. Of course, he perks up at that. Honestly, you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t going to enjoy it, too. Immensely.

Then, comes the big one. The entire point of this doctor’s visit, and the reason you and Joel are gripping each other so tight, you’re cutting off the other’s circulation. But it’s good news. Luckily, it's all good news.

Your tiny clump of cells is healthy, you’re healthy, and you can go home now, equipped with all of that very calming knowledge. One day, you’re going to have to stop calling them a clump, but you’ve decided today is not that day.

“Told ya it wouldn’t be so bad,” he teases as you walk out to the truck, still hand-in-hand. 

But his eyes betray his tone. There’s a seriousness to his joy, and you can see it so clearly in the way he’s looking at you like you’ve given him the greatest gift in the world. It makes you feel warm and…important. Loved. He continues, his voice tinged with something a little softer. 

“Thank you…for goin’, I mean. S’good to know that everythin’s alright. That you’re alright.”

You stop next to the car, meeting his gaze with what you hope is the same amount of love and affection you see, and throw your arms around his neck. 

“Thanks for taking me, and just…being here. Like, really being here, not just showing up so you can say you did,” you say earnestly, and he leans down to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you to pull you close.

“‘Course, baby. Don't have to thank me for that,” he mumbles against your lips. 

Not ready to separate from him, you deepen the kiss, running your tongue along his bottom lip until he opens for you and licking into his mouth freely. He groans as you press him into the side of the truck, his hands trailing down your sides to grip the plush of your ass through your jeans. 

You can feel him starting to stiffen against your belly and that carnal hunger the doctor warned you about takes over, the need to feel more, more of him overwhelming you. He’s just so solid everywhere. 

Your fingers skim underneath his shirt to feel his stomach flexing beneath your palms, and you roll your hips into his, gasping into his mouth at the friction. You’re so caught up in his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, that you don’t hear the group of people passing by on the other side of the truck.

But Joel does. He begrudgingly pulls away from you, hard as a rock and panting heavily. You whine at the loss, and he twitches against you in response.

“C’mon, baby, I’m not fuckin’ you in a goddamn Planned Parenthood parkin’ lot,” he chuckles, leading you to the passenger’s side of the car. He smacks your ass when you resist, and you shoot him a wounded glare. “Uh-uh, none’a that. ‘m takin’ you home. Owe ya a movie, don’t I?”

You perk up at the mention of his promise from earlier.

“You sure do. And candy, and popcorn, and soda,” you list off, easily distracted by the prospect of shitty junk food. You bounce into the car, shifting the seat to recline as far as it’ll go. “What are we watching?”

“Whatever you want, baby."

Well, he did say he’d give you whatever you wanted. And for a while, it was the movie—you’d even picked out your favorite. But you only manage to get about 20 minutes in before Joel's arm around your shoulder and chest under your cheek become an unignorable distraction. 

Now, you want something else. 

You don't bother teasing or playing coy, not when he’s so solidly pressed against you, just begging to be had. Your body rises and falls with every breath he takes, and it’s so visceral, being close enough to touch and taste him, and yet not doing either. 

His neck looks especially delicious under the faint, fluorescent lighting of the TV, and your lips press wetly into the underside of his jaw, sucking delicately as your tongue darts out to taste him. His breath hitches, but he shows no other signs of being affected at all. 

Taking that as your cue to up the ante, you drop your hand onto his lap to tug at his belt, but he catches you before you can make any progress. You tilt your head back to look up at him, brows furrowed in confusion, but he just smirks, eyes still locked on the TV screen.

"You wanted a movie, didn't ya? Thought ya loved this one," he says teasingly. "You can wait a couple hours—I know ya can."

Yeah, you can, but that doesn't mean you want to. He was so into it in the parking lot, so what happened between then and now? You didn't think he liked this movie that much, but apparently you were mistaken. 

Settling back into his side, you try to shift your focus back to the movie, but then the hand on your shoulder starts to play with your hair. His fingers graze your neck, and you're back to squeezing your thighs together in frustration. 

He has to be doing this on purpose. Riling you up so much that once the movie’s finally over, you’ll be putty in his hands. Well, two can play that game. If he won't let you touch him, then you'll just have to touch yourself.

Your eyes flutter closed as you run your fingers down your belly, slipping your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts to drag your fingers up and down your slick folds. God, you didn't realize you were already so wet. You gasp softly as you trail upward toward your clit, but Joel's voice startles you out of your reverie. 

"Should ya be doin' that right now?" 

There's a tinge of warning to his voice, and it burns hot in your veins. You open your eyes slowly and he's finally looking at you, his attention drawn to your fingers still moving under the fabric.

"Well, you weren't gonna. What, are you—," your middle finger brushes against that sensitive bundle of nerves and you bite back a whine, "—you...ngh—gonna stop me?"

The hand that was gently stroking your hair shifts back to firmly grip the back of your neck, squeezing just hard enough to make your fingers stutter. He leans in, his voice dangerously low in your ear.

"No, I'll let ya keep goin'. But you're gonna do exactly what I tell ya to, ya got that?" he murmurs, watching as your hips begin to swivel into your own sweet friction. "'n if you're good for me...," he trails off, eyes dropping down to where he's slowly jerking off his hardening cock through his jeans. "...I'll give ya this. We got a deal?"

You want him inside you so badly, you almost say yes before he's even done talking, but then you have a wicked thought. A counteroffer, of sorts.

"I'll take your deal. But—," you start with a devilish smile, and he raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. "Only if you touch yourself, too. Want you to fuck your hand like you're fucking me."

"Deal," he says without hesitation.

"Deal," you smirk, removing your hand from your pussy for him to shake, your fingers sticky and glistening. 

He takes your proffered hand but, instead of shaking, he wraps his lips around your slick digits, sucking you off each one and groaning at your taste. What you wouldn't give to have that tongue in your mouth. Or buried in your cunt. Pulling off with a lewd pop, he nods at your lap.

"Take your fuckin' pants off. Now."

Shit, he doesn't have to tell you twice. You quickly shimmy out of your shorts and underwear, and wait for his next instructions. You'll be a good girl for him. The best girl he's ever had and ever will.

"Spread 'em. Show me how wet you are for me," he mumbles, kicking your legs apart. 

You spread them as wide as you can. The cool night breeze filtering in through the open window meets your center, and you're suddenly aware of how much wetter you've gotten since you started. It almost makes your mouth water. You don't think you've ever been this turned on by your own body in your life.

Slick coats your thighs, seeping into the couch, and he looks pleased. You can see he wants to touch you just as badly as you want to touch yourself. Your knee bumps into his thigh and he hooks your leg over his, holding you open. 

"Shit, would'ja look at that," he breathes out in awe. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

Your cunt visibly clenches at the praise and he hisses in a breath through his teeth, resting his hand on your thigh so he can lean over your body. He lingers for a moment like he's admiring you laid out for him like this, but then moves a little closer and spits a thick glob of saliva right onto your clit. 

Your jaw drops, a loud gasp torn from your chest when he grabs your hand, using your fingers to gather it up and swirl it around your swollen nub. Shit, if he keeps going like this, you're going to cum and fast. 

Dropping your head back onto his shoulder, you rock into your fingers, slipping through the mess he's made of your pussy, and your body starts to feel like a rubber band about to snap. 

"Wanna taste you so fuckin' bad. Fuck you on my tongue 'til you're nice 'n ready for me," he growls, pressing your fingers harder onto your clit. "S'that what you want? Wanna cum in my mouth?"

You turn to bury your head into the crook of his neck, nodding frantically as you cry into the soothing warmth of his skin. You're going to cum. Fuck, fuck, you're going to cum. Your eyes start to roll back as you feel it crescendo, and then—

Then, he releases your hand, cruelly and unapologetically. 

"Not yet, baby. We both gotta be patient, don't we?" he teases you again, and your eyes snap open.

What the fuck. No, you're not letting him edge you again. It was fun and all at the gym, but you're way too far gone to be playing games right now. 

And how isn't he a total wreck? Both of his hands are on you, even though that wasn't part of the deal, so he can't be taking care of himself.

Your eyes drop down to his lap, and wow. This man has more willpower than you ever could've imagined. He's so hard, you can see the tip of his cock peeking out above the waistband of his pants. And it's leaking everywhere, twitching and angrily dribbling precum all over the fabric. 

He looks...so fucking good like this. Fuck, you want him so bad. But that means getting back on track, and it's obviously on you to make that happen. Clearly, he's more affected by all of this than he made it seem.

"Joel, please, just tell me what to do," you plead. You'll beg if you have to. Whatever it takes for you to finally get what you want.

"Alright, alright," he concedes, taking sympathy on you, likely reaching his limit himself. "'m gonna let you make yourself feel good, baby. Don't'chu worry."

"Great," you grit through your teeth. "Then start by taking your fucking pants off."

He chuckles at his words thrown back at him, but listens, regardless. His boxers and jeans are pulled off in two hard tugs, and his cock bounces against his stomach, thick and wet, and unfairly far from your aching pussy. The hand on your neck moves to gently caress the side of your cheek.

"Gonna start nice 'n slow, ya got that?" he says, biting back a groan as he wraps his fingers around his neglected cock. He starts to pump himself, and more precum leaks out. "Watch me."

But it didn't need to be said. You're already enraptured by the way he strokes himself, slow and steady, swiping his thumb over the head on every upstroke. He's panting softly, trying to keep his hips from jerking up into his fist, but you can see how much effort it's taking not to.

"C'mon, baby. Gimme one finger—your middle finger, all the way in," he commands, his voice as tight as his grip.

You tear your eyes away from him while you run your fingers through your folds, still slick with his saliva and your own desire, and then sink your finger into yourself knuckle by knuckle. It doesn't feel like much, and you both know it, but at least it's something. 

"Now, follow me," he says, watching your hand as intently as you're watching his. 

You rock your finger in and out slowly, just like he said. Because you're his good girl and good girls do what they're told. It’s already a sticky mess, your finger creamier with every thrust, and he groans out his appreciation. 

"Good girl. Add another one. Not too fast, now." 

Finally, you get some real relief. Slipping your index finger in alongside your middle finger, you feel that little bit of stretch you've been aching for and you can't help but whimper.

His lips part, brows furrowing as his hand speeds up. His eyes are locked on where your sopping cunt is sucking in your fingers greedily and, fuck, he's even more of a mess now. Sweat dripping from his temples, chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back. 

So hot. So fucking hot. It's scorching, the way your cunt feels around your fingers as you fuck into yourself a little faster. They're rubbing your walls just right, your palm grazing your clit after every stroke, and his hyper-focused gaze makes it all feel that much better. You want to hear him say it again. For him to tell you how well you’re doing.

"—ngh...i-is this good?" you whine, knowing how pathetic you sound, but forgetting to care.

"Perfect, baby. You're perfect," he rasps, unable to keep his hips from snapping up into his fist as the sweet sounds of your wet squelching reach his ears. "So fuckin' good for me."

Preening hard at his praise, you push a little too deep into yourself and graze something mind-numbing that almost hurts with how good it feels. You cry out, curling your fingers into it again and again as you bury your face back into his neck. His arm tightens around your shoulder and he leans over to press his lips soothingly against your forehead. 

"That's it, baby, just like that. Doin' so well," he groans, lips brushing against your skin. His strokes are frantic now and you know he can’t last much longer. "Need ya to gimme one more. Just one—last one, promise. Then I'll give ya whatever you want."

Nodding quickly, face still cushioned against his shoulder, you add your ring finger, and fucking hell, you’re so full. You stretch your fingers apart, pumping them in and out the best you can, and they drag against that spot—every spot—with how tight you are. But somehow it’s not enough. It’s not Joel’s cock, so it’ll never be enough. 

Everything’s drowned out except for the wet sounds of skin on skin, and Joel’s voice, still just above your brow, talking you through your almost painful pleasure. He’s panting, whispering tender words that you can’t hear so much as feel with those soft, perfect lips.

“…tell me when you’re close, baby. Can’t feel ya, gonna need you to use your words,” he barely chokes out, staving off his orgasm, waiting for you. 

It’s already close, but you’re only teetering, stuck in a constant loop of almost there, and need more. You can’t reach where you need to, but Joel can. So easily and all you have to do is ask. He said he’d give you whatever you wanted.

But you didn’t realize he was already at his limit, and you don’t get the chance to tell him before he’s babbling, delirious with the need to cum.

"'m sorry—fuck, 'm sorry. Need...to—ngh, fuck, need to cum inside you...fill you up...," he moans, and he sounds upset like he can’t help himself, not anymore.

Abruptly, so much quicker than you can fully process, your fingers are yanked out of your cunt and replaced by his cock, and the thrust is so harsh, he hits exactly where you need him to without even trying. The whine building in your chest erupts as a wail as you immediately lock down around him, sending him over the edge with you.

Full. God, how can you feel this full? You’re so unbelievably aware of him cumming inside you and there’s so much, he’s already leaking out of you. And he almost seems angry about it. Your hips are roughly tilted up so he’s fucking down into you, eyes unfocused, and snarling like a wild animal.

And still so mouthy.

“You got no idea how good ya look right now. Fuckin’ glowin’,” he all but slurs, drunk on the idea of keeping his seed inside you. “S’that my baby in you, makin’ ya glow like that?”

"Oh...oh, god, fuck, Joel,” you whimper, your aftershocks still milking him dry. “Christ, y-you trying to knock me up twice?" 

It’s like that alone makes him redouble his efforts. You’ve never seen him like this before, but you like it. Something primal in you wants this as badly as he does.

"Fuck yeah, baby, gonna pump you full'a twins."

Holy shit. You’re not sure if you’re still cumming or if you just came again, but you feel an entirely new rush of pleasure and he hisses out a breath through his teeth like he can feel it. Not long after, sensitivity starts to set in for both of you and he stills, seated deeply inside you, chest heaving and eyes shut tight. 

His hands squeeze where they’ve been aggressively gripping your thighs before he reluctantly pulls out, but he keeps your hips tilted up as he drops to sit between your legs on the cushion below.

“There a reason I can’t lay down like a normal person?” you laugh, wiggling in his grasp. “Joel, come on, put me down. I’m already pregnant.”

“Just gimme a minute,” he mumbles, suddenly sounding so solemn. He turns his head from where it's resting on the side of your knee to kiss your damp skin. “Didn’t know I was knockin’ you up the first time, just…lemme have this, alright?” 

Your eyes soften. How this man can be such a sap after fucking you like that is beyond comprehension, but if he wants this, then you’ll let him have his moment. It’s kind of sweet, anyway.

“Okay,” you reach up to brush your fingertips along his cheek. It's incredible, really, all of the things you see in Joel's eyes right now. That in this single, fleeting gaze, you can see forever. "Put a baby in me.”

SATURDAY

"Can you stay up all night? Fuck me 'til the daylight. 34, 35."

You’re convinced Joel tastes especially good in the mornings. There’s a hint of sweat to his skin, so naturally bitter and heady, maybe even a little tangy. It’s fucking delicious.

And he’s always hard in the morning. His cock is the perfect alarm clock, always reliable and super effective, whether it’s pulsing against your thigh or rutting into your ass. It’s your favorite way to wake up, but there’s usually not enough time to enjoy it to the fullest.

Not with work and Sarah, even Tommy showing up for breakfast unannounced. But it’s Saturday, which means you can keep your lips wrapped around him for as long as you want, make him cum as many times as you want, and taste him to your heart’s content. 

He probably won’t even wake up, at least not right away. Joel sleeps like the dead, especially on the weekends, and it’s been a long week. Even now, as you suck the tip into your wet, very eager mouth and swallow him down halfway, he barely stirs. 

That’s more than okay with you. You’d be happy to lie in bed, head pillowed on his stomach, keeping his cock warm between your lips while you wait. Relishing how fucking good he tastes and how your jaw pleasantly aches as you adjust to accommodate his girth.

But, soon enough, your jaw isn’t the only thing aching. The slick mess you’re making in your underwear right now is getting hard to ignore, but you don’t want to let him go. He’s velvety smooth against your tongue, dribbling salty precum down your throat, and his unconscious body is starting to respond to you more and more with each passing moment. This is your favorite part.

He lets out a soft grunt, twitching into the inside of your cheek, and your efforts become a little more concentrated and a lot more obvious. You try to forget about your soaked underwear and the pleasurable whoosh in your belly in favor of sucking a little harder, letting saliva pool in your mouth as you slurp loudly around the head.

His hips jerk up, surprising you enough to gag you, and that only makes your mouth and pussy wetter, the heat building in your core almost unbearable now. The moan that escapes you sends a drawn-out series of vibrations straight down to his balls that pulls even more noise from him, and your head steadily shifts with the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

He's starting to rut into your mouth, whimpering, and yet somehow still asleep, and it makes you feel powerful to have full control over him like this. To command his pleasure without any interruption or intervention, making him fall apart entirely at your mercy. You kind of hope you can get him to cum like this, to be his alarm clock for once. 

Turns out only half of your wish is granted, but you don't realize it until Joel's fingers are threading into your hair and abruptly tugging you off. He's definitely awake now, but he also definitely didn't cum. Bummer. You try sucking him back into your mouth, but he tugs you harder even as his hips chase you. 

"Joel, what—?" you glare up at him, but upon seeing him, you feel a little bad for your reaction. He looks so sleepy, still a little dazed from his unconventional wake-up call, blinking blearily like he's doing his best to stay awake. Your expression softens. 

"Sorry, got a little carried away," you murmur sheepishly. "But, um, you taste really good, so if you wanna go back to sleep, I can just keep—"

You're cut off by a hand trailing down your body, following the curve of your ass to dip inside you. He smears the moisture around your entrance, pushing two fingers into you, then pulling out to hold them up to his face. You watch him, enraptured by the way he inspects your wetness, how it strings between his middle and ring fingers. 

Then, he surprises you even further by sucking them into his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he groans around them before slipping them out totally clean. His cock jerks next to your face and you belatedly realize you're drooling.

"Fuck, so do you." He's fully awake now, eyes clear, but dark. Hungry.

"Huh?" you ask dumbly. 

"Ya taste really good," he mumbles, his voice low and so sexy, still thick with sleep. You feel your cheeks heat up. Oh. 

"C'mere, baby," he tells you, patting his chest. You crawl up his body and lean up to kiss him, assuming he wants you to taste yourself in his mouth, but he stops you. "Other way, sweetheart."

Your brows furrow in confusion as you try to work out exactly what he's asking for. Even though you've been awake and riling him up for what feels like hours, your brain clearly hasn't caught up yet. His eyes are unreadable, fingers tense at his sides. Like he's just itching for you to understand.

"Need you to figure this out—know you can do it," he rasps needily. "C'mon, smart girl, what do I want?"

And then it hits you. He's not asking you to sit on his chest, not really. He wants you to sit on his face. Needs you to. Sprawled out on your hands and knees where his spit-slick cock would be just within reach, bobbing temptingly with every breath he takes.

God, you want to. The idea of Joel fucking you with his tongue while he's fucking into your mouth makes you clench so hard it hurts. You bite your lip, meeting his expectant gaze.

Okay. Okay, you can definitely do that. Especially when he looks so...eager. It also has the double advantage of combining mind-blowing sex with a well-rounded breakfast. You have a feeling you'll both be full after this.

"Just so I have this straight—," you splay your fingers across his stomach, trailing down to wrap tightly around his length and tug upward until a single, perfect bead of precum leaks from his slit, "—you still want my mouth here."  

Your eyes stay locked on his as you bend down to lick it off, lingering to suckle the tip and tease your tongue just under the ridge. When he doesn't immediately tug you off, you take him deeper, preening at his harsh intake of breath. 

You don't want to press your luck, but he tastes fucking incredible, somehow even better than he did earlier. Maybe it's the way he's watching you, captivated and attuned to your every movement. 

He’s already starting to buck into you, shallowly, now an active participant in his own pleasure. His knuckles are nearly white with how hard he’s fisting the sheets, teeth gritting as he fights the urge to rush you. 

But his patience is wearing thin. Just a few thrusts later, he tugs you off with what feels like dwindling restraint, and your dazed, glassy eyes don't do much to help.

You look wrecked, and you know it. Lips swollen and slick with saliva, your lashes wet with unshed tears from the effort of taking him. He reaches out to trace your bottom lip with his thumb, hissing when you catch the tip between your teeth.

“Yeah...ngh—yeah, keep doin' that. Suckin' me just like that," he breathes raggedly. "And sit that pretty pussy right here—"

Then, without warning, he's suddenly manhandling you into position, throwing your leg over his head, and maneuvering you until you can feel him panting heavily against your cunt.

“Down, baby, let's go. Wanna taste ya. Now.”

Blunt nails dig into your skin and your hips stutter, dipping low enough for your clit to brush his bottom lip. It’s enough for him to get a taste of you. For him to finally snap and decide he’s done waiting.

Joel yanks you onto his face, licking a wide stripe from your clit to your entrance, his tongue immediately finding a home in your pussy. The motion knocks you off balance and you fall forward, his cock just inches from your mouth.

Bracing a hand on his stomach, you wrap your other around him and he groans throatily in response, the sound deep and muffled as he licks into you with increased fervor. And his noises only grow in volume, vibrating against your folds and sending jolt after jolt into your very sensitive bundle of nerves. 

His mouth feels so fucking hot, and the coarseness of his beard burns, making it hard to concentrate on what you’re desperately trying to accomplish. You’re already panting, hiccuped breaths puffing teasingly and cruelly against him until he’s pulsing in your grip. 

The promise of him throbbing just like that down your throat makes you focus just long enough to take him back into your mouth, intent on sucking him down as far as your body will let you. But, by now, any sense of self-control he might’ve had before is totally gone. His hips buck clean off the mattress at the tightness of your lips around him, and he all but chokes you with the force of it, the size of him. 

And, fuck, you love it. The way his stomach tenses, his thighs trembling beneath you. You can’t tell where your body ends and his begins, not when he’s fucking into you every single way he can. His tongue spears into you and your pussy rhythmically squeezes him every time his cock grazes the back of your throat. 

You’re audibly gagging around him and it’s filthy as hell, but you can tell how much it’s turning him on. Christ, can you tell. Maybe you were genuinely worried you’d suffocate him at first but, now, you probably couldn’t stop yourself from grinding into his face even if you tried. And that's exactly what he wants.

"...Harder—mmph, c'mon, baby," you feel him groan into your cunt, urging your hips even lower. "—ride me harder, harder."

How—he...fuck, he's...? Everywhere. He's everywhere. You struggle to do what he told you, to use him for your mounting pleasure, but it doesn't fucking matter anymore. You're helpless but to let him do whatever he wants to you.

Joel’s devouring you. Roughly grabbing your ass, moaning pathetically into you as he pulls your cheeks apart for better access. It’s almost like you can feel him swelling between your lips, and you try to pull up for just a second of respite. 

But, then, he abruptly shifts. His mouth lowers to suck gently, yet fleetingly on your clit twice, then he licks a wide stripe back up to your entrance. Except, he doesn’t stop there. Instead, he continues his path up, gathering your wetness as he goes, and swirls his tongue around your other hole before sucking hard. And it sends you reeling.

Jesus fucking Christ, that’s new. Fuck, and it’s—so...so good. It’s indescribable, how he feels right now. How he sounds—slurping you up, whimpering desperately like he’ll cum at any moment. 

And he’s loud, drawn-out moans escaping from so deep within his chest, they climb their way from that tight ring of muscle straight up your spine, where you can vaguely feel his arm snaking around you to claw at your back. You can’t think anymore—you’re done thinking. 

Now, it’s just him trapping you in place, the three fingers he’s suddenly pumping into your spasming pussy, and his cock, now abandoned and leaking on his stomach. It’s so much, bordering on too much, and you can’t hold yourself up anymore.

Your head drops unceremoniously onto the puddle of precum and it smears across your cheek as his hips urgently roll into nothing. But you don’t even notice. Not even when your eyes roll back and you start to babble deliriously, your orgasm building quickly in a place between your legs you can’t even begin to explain.

“Joel…JoelJoelJoel—I…you…,” you slam a hand down on the mattress as your thighs start to quake violently. “…cumming—‘m cumming, fuck—fuck.”

It doesn’t just crash over you, it rocks you to your core. Everything below your waist locks down, squeezing his fingers so tight, you swear you can feel each individual knuckle. Your jaw drops, parting around what feels like a silent scream, but you can’t be totally sure because soon, Joel is groaning so gutturally, you can’t focus on anything else.

At least, until he cums completely untouched right into your face. And he cums hard. Thick spurts cover your lips and chin, landing haphazardly on your cheek, and your tongue darts out to taste him, salty and sated and perfect. Exactly what you've been waiting for.

His thighs tense intermittently, a few more drops dribbling out of his slit, and you crane your neck, letting your tongue flutter over his head. As it pulses weakly against your lips, Joel gasps out your name, burying his face in your swollen pussy again. 

Lazily, you swivel your hips into his mouth despite the extreme overstimulation, hiccuping soft moans and nearly succumbing to the easy pleasure. He gently caresses your clit, enveloping you with a dextrous warmth that simultaneously makes you jolt and crave the sensation. 

Neither of you want to stop. Truthfully, you'd let him do this to you all day, drawing orgasm after orgasm from each other the way you have been all week. But exhaustion's starting to set in and you're not sure your body can physically take any more.

Joel slaps your ass and you huff out a soft laugh, deciding it's time to separate so you can get cozy with him again. The perfect end to your surprisingly athletic, lazy Saturday morning in bed.

“You gonna stop anytime soon, or do you just live there now?” you pant teasingly, grimacing as you slowly lift your head off his stomach. 

Shit, you’re a mess. You’re practically stuck to him, his cum drying on his stomach and your face, and you can feel the stickiness of his saliva mixed with your juices dripping between your legs. His hand trails from your ass down to your inner thigh, painting mindless patterns on your sullied skin.

"Sure don't seem like ya want me to stop," he chuckles tiredly, managing to suck your clit chastely one last time before you jerk your hips away. 

His head finally drops onto the pillow below him, and he lets out a disgruntled whine when you toss your leg over his head, plopping down on the bed beside him.

"Yeah, well, one of us has to have a little self-control or we're not leaving this bed today. And you, uh, look like you could use some tidying up,” you snort, scratching your fingertips against his already crusting beard. He mimics the motion on your leg, and you swat his hand away, rolling your eyes fondly.

It would be disgusting if it were literally anyone else but Joel but, here in this bed—your bed—it feels so natural. Like it’s totally normal that you’d be covered in each other’s releases, having a silly conversation on a Saturday morning as if you’ve done this all your lives. 

“Might wanna look in the mirror, baby. I’d be more’n happy to keep lookin’ at ya like this, but—,” he leans up to wipe a streak of cum off your bottom lip. His hand lingers, cupping your damp cheek, and you instinctively lean into his touch. “—you probably need more cleanin’ up than I do.” 

You eye each other for a few seconds, taking in how truly disgusting you both are, before bursting into fits of laughter. You’re smiling so hard, your skin tugs under his drying release and that makes you laugh even harder.

“Alright, alright, filthy girl,” he jokes, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Lay down, I’ll take care of ya.”

He sits up and slowly slides off the bed, yanking your legs out from under you as he goes. Still giggling, you flop onto the damp, cotton sheets with an oomph and immediately take the opportunity to stretch out your sore limbs. You nuzzle into your pillow with a soft mewl, practically purring as you try to soak up the warm morning rays streaming through the gaps in the curtains.

You glance over at Joel as you continue to nest like a gigantic cat, but he's already watching you, paused in the doorway to the bathroom. His eyes rove appreciatively down your naked body and you observe him quietly, deciding you'll let him stare for as long as he wants to. There's no rush. Sure, you're still a mess and probably have the worst bedhead imaginable, but despite it all, he makes you feel beautiful. 

When he returns with a cool, damp washcloth a few minutes later, he's much cleaner and you're only a little bummed that the evidence of your explosive morning is gone. He's gentle and attentive as he wipes the remaining streaks off your cheeks and chin, and bends down to kiss you once your face is officially cum-free. 

Okay, maybe you lied earlier. This is your favorite part. Joel taking care of you, choosing to express his affection through his actions and touch. You sigh into his mouth, melting into the first real kiss you've shared since waking up, and it takes his tongue tangling with yours for you to realize he tastes minty. He's always so delicious.

Trailing further down, he wipes his release off your stomach, pressing his lips to each freshly-cleaned inch of skin, and then crawls between your legs to wash away the mess he made of your thighs. Your eyes start to flutter closed at the repetitive shift in sensation, his hands lulling you to sleep, until the washcloth hits the floor with a dull splat.

Well, that was over way too soon. But you quickly forgive the horrible transgression once his warm, welcome body sinks into the bed next to you, and his tousled head of hair and beard nuzzle into your stomach.

He mouths at your skin, his lips pressing sweetly around your belly button, and it tickles, making you laugh as you thread your fingers through his curls and scratch his scalp affectionately. 

After a moment of comfortable silence, his hand splays warm and broad next to his head. His expression shifts and he looks unexpectedly pensive. Uncertainty creeps into your chest before you can logic it away, even though you know without a doubt that he wants this. His lips begin to move against your stomach and it takes a second for you to realize he's saying something, almost too quietly for you to hear. But when it finally registers, all of that fear completely fades away.

"Hey there, kiddo. It's me, your daddy," he murmurs, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin as soothing as his words. He has the tiniest smile on his face, and it's growing wider by the second. "We're all so excited to meet ya. Me, your momma, your big sister, your uncle...we already love ya so damn much."

The room starts to blur into a wash of colors and figures, and shit, you're crying. But how could you not be? He's...talking to your tiny clump of cells. To your baby—who can't possibly be bigger than a pumpkin seed—with so much adoration, it makes your chest ache. 

You're trying so hard not to tremble or sniffle or breathe too heavily so you don't startle him, but that doesn't exactly work out. A few stray tears make their way up your nose, and you snort around your next inhale. Classic, clumsy you.

Joel's head shoots up like he's been caught and his cheeks flush that beautiful shade of burgundy you love so much. You don't want him to stop, but he looks so embarrassed like he thinks he's done something wrong. That couldn't be further from the truth. 

"I'm just emotional from the hormones, it's totally fine. I'm totally fine," you give him a reassuring, watery grin. "Keep going. I think they like the sound of daddy's voice."

He chuckles and reaches up to wipe your tears away, gently cradling your face in his hand before he slides it back down to your belly. He continues where he left off, just like you asked, but you have a sneaking suspicion he would've anyway. Joel's just one of those men who was born to be a dad. It comes as naturally to him as breathing.

“Heard that? That's your momma, kiddo. She's....well. She's somethin' else. Strongest, most lovin', person I've ever known and fuckin' sharp as a tack," he smiles up at you, eyes crinkling and bright as the goddamn sun. "And she's beautiful. She even sounds beautiful, don't she? Hopin' you'll come out just like her."

You scoff affectionately, shaking your head as you share a look that tells you he knows exactly what you're thinking. If this baby pops out without his brown eyes and curls, you're going to be so pissed. You teasingly tug his hair, willing him to take it back, but he won't. If your baby's getting anything from the two of you, it's stubbornness.

Then, before you can blink, there's a sudden tone shift. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together, and he turns his head so he's speaking directly into your belly. An exchange just between a father and his child.

"Wanna know a secret? S'just between you and me, though, alright? Don't go tellin' your momma," he says nosing into your soft skin, his voice barely above a whisper. You watch him curiously, squeezing his hand to get his attention, but his focus remains on your stomach. "'m gonna ask your momma to marry me. Think she'll say yes?"

Your heart stops and it feels like all of the air's been sucked out of the room. That's—fuck...that's one hell of a secret to share with your baby. You can't even imagine the kind of trouble they're going to get up to if they're already keeping secrets like that. 

His eyes flit up to meet yours, but they're not questioning or expectant. He isn't wondering what your answer will be. He just looks peaceful. Blanketed in an easy calm because he already knows what you're going to say. Of course, he does. 

Propping his chin on your hip, Joel quietly observes your reaction while he strokes the back of your hand with the rough pad of his thumb. You wonder what he sees on your face and in your body language right now because you're positive it's not the elation or excessive joy anyone else would expect.

You're not squealing or jumping up and down, or whatever newly engaged people usually do. No, that blanket of easy calm is more than big enough for both of you, and it feels safe and warm, just like you always knew this moment would. 

And you wouldn't want it any other way. Lying here together after possibly the most eventful week of your lives, filled with so much sex and love and family, and deciding that you want to keep doing this together, over and over. Forever.

You guide his hand up to your lips, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to his palm, before placing it over your racing heart. That tiny smile returns to his face and he crawls up your body so he can kiss you properly, conveying his love better than words ever could. 

It's still way too early for your baby to kick or give their daddy any sort of sign that they heard his question, but you're sure they wouldn't mind if you answered for them. It's a no-brainer, anyway.

"Yeah, I do."

thanks for reading! 💕

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Jamil Viper - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Main Street]

Jamil: Hmm, the width of this street is much narrower than I thought… If it were to turn the corner here…

Ortho: Jamil Viper-san! What are you doing here of all places? The afternoon classes will begin soon.

Jamil: Ortho… Maybe you could hear me out.

Ortho: Th-That's a pretty serious look you got going on… Sure. If you're alright with it, I can listen to what you have to say…

Jamil: So, tomorrow is my birthday…

Ortho: Huh, your birthday!? Happy Birthday!

Jamil: Thanks. I'm happy to celebrate it, but because of it, I'm in a bit of a conundrum.

Jamil: Well... It seems that Kalim has been plotting something for my birthday.

Ortho: Eh, plotting something? Is he planning something ominous…!?

Jamil: So, after coaxing hints out of him, and gathering more info from other folks around me, I finally was able to piece together his plan.

Jamil: Apparently, he's been planning alongside my dormmates on throwing a birthday parade in my honor down main street.

Ortho: Oh, nice, that sounds fun. Isn't it a good thing that he wants to throw a parade?

Jamil: Seriously… Do you even get how expensive parades can be, not to mention the difficulties of pulling one of successfully?

Jamil: I was so worried about it, I stole a glance at their plans, and just as I expected, it's not well thought out at all.

Jamil: If, somehow, it was to be a disaster and he says, "let's try again tomorrow!" it could further inflate the costs and labor.

Jamil: Plus, I'm not supposed to know about it, so I can't stop it. If I try to run interference, they might try something else which would also be just as bad…!

Jamil: That's why I thought about what could be done to successfully pull this off quick and painlessly, while minimizing any damage Kalim and the others could do...

Jamil: Which is why I am now secretly examining the proposed parade route prior to the event.

Ortho: Eh. So, you're telling me that you're basically doing the prep work for your own parade…?

Jamil: Don't remind me… I'm feeling pretty embarrassed by it already…

Ortho: B-But hey, you're still excited for your birthday, right? Especially since it's your special day!

Jamil: ….Yeah, I guess it's okay. It's a day where I don't have to stress about so many things.

Ortho: Oh, hey, so, what about if you try to surprise everyone else during the parade instead?

Ortho: Maybe you could shoot off fireworks at the front of the parade, or try summoning something via magic!

Jamil: I see… I mean, it is pretty irritating to always be on the receiving end of surprises. Might not be bad to see their shocked faces.

Jamil: Thanks, Ortho. I'll think about it.

[Scarabia Dorm – Lounge]

Jamil: Alright, now. I think I'll put together my lunch for tomorrow before taking a shower… Hm? Oh, what are you guys still here for?

[Scarabia mob students stand there awkwardly]

Jamil: Eh, nothing? Don't worry about it? What's that plate you just tried to hi… No, nevermind.

Jamil: I know nothing. That's right, I know nothing… So, please… Please let things go as planned…!

Jamil: …Whew. Tomorrow's a busy day, so I guess I'll finish up what needs to be done, too.

[Scarabia Dorm – Jamil's Room]

Jamil: Ah, whew. Today was another full day…

[Scarabia Dorm – Jamil's Room]

[Jamil's roommate greets him]

Jamil: I'm back. …Yeah, that's right. There were so many people in the washroom that it took forever to take a shower.

Jamil: You were done pretty quickly, though… Oh, are you actually studying for once?

Jamil: What, because you're going to be busy tomorrow? Oh, so you're saying you're not studying because you want to… Nah, don't mind me, doesn't matter the reason, better you go ahead and do it.

[paper slips to the ground]

Jamil: Hey, you dropped something… Oh, right, the Headmaster did send out a notice earlier.

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Jamil: Quality of life improvements, huh. Then they should start with making the shower rooms bigge… Achoo!

Jamil: That's no good. I should dry my hair quickly before I catch a cold.

Jamil: Oh, I almost forgot, I received some hair milk from Najma for my birthday. I should apply some before drying.

Jamil: Urgh, the scent's pretty strong. What is this scent…? Lotus flowers? Oh, she should know this is way too fragrant for me!

Jamil: Is she just trying to mess with me even for my birthday? No, wait, she's more the type to have not put that much thought into it.

Jamil: I'll make sure to at least thank her… Before going back to my usual oils from tomorrow... Hey, I'm going to use the dryer.

Jamil: I can't really take my time drying my hair in the shared washroom. Especially since I require a lot more time…

[starts blow-drying hair]

Jamil: …Improvements, huh. Now that I think about it, I guess it could be useful to have a large standing mirror in the room.

Jamil: Whenever I'm setting my hair in the morning, it's pretty inconvenient that I can't see the back of my head. What I'd really like is a three-sided mirror.

Jamil: If I had known there wouldn't be one in these rooms, I probably would have brought one. Or maybe, I should write and request one.

Jamil: …Nah, it'll just get in my roommate's way. And I wouldn't want it to be used without permission… I dislike having to share my personal items.

Jamil: If I were to try and request some kind of new implement for the room, I think it'd have to be…

Jamil: A COMMERCIAL-GRADE REFRIGERATOR!!!

Jamil: That's exactly what I need! Ah, yes… It would be insanely convenient to have a refrigerator in my room!

Jamil: Sure, there is a fridge in the dorm kitchens, but it is a little too far from my room. Like, the last time I made ice cream…

Jamil: I'd have to wake up in the middle of the night and make countless trips back and forth to the kitchen to stir it. That was frustrating, especially since I was sleepy, and it's a good distance away.

Jamil: It'd be better if I had one in my room. And then I might as well also get a wide sink, stove and oven too…

Jamil: …Wait, that's basically a whole kitchen, huh? I guess it's not really something you'd put in a bedroom.

[finishes blow-drying hair]

Jamil: Alright, it's mostly dry now. I'll just apply some oil, and… done.

Jamil: Hey. Sorry for all the noise again today… WAIT, HUH, HE'S ALREADY ASLEEP EVEN THROUGH THE LOUD HAIR DRYER NOISE!?

Jamil: Geez, he doesn't have a care in the world, huh. I almost feel kind of jealous.

Jamil: Alright, then. Time to look over my notes and prepare for tomorrow, then go to sleep.

[Scarabia Dorm – Jamil's Room]

[alarm rings]

Jamil: Hrn… It's morning already… Yaaawn.

Jamil: I'm still sleepy… But there shouldn't be a crowd in the bathroom this early… I should go wash my face while it's empty…

Jamil: Whew. I feel more refreshed now that I've washed my face… I really do like it in the mornings, since no one else is around.

Jamil: Looks like my roommate is still sleeping, so I'll just go ahead and quickly finish up my appearance for today.

Jamil: I guess I'll start with my makeup. Hm… Yeah, I think I'll just go with my usual palette.

Jamil: First, my sunscreen and colored lip balm. And I'll need eyeliner… Ah, looks like it's almost gone.

Jamil: I still have some spares, but I'll have to make sure to buy some extra.

Jamil: It was a little frustrating when the last eyeliner I would always use took off on Magicam and became hard to find.

Jamil: It's annoying when you can't even keep using the cosmetics you like because they go out of stock.

Jamil: I'd rather they keep a consistent stock of their standard products, instead of trying to come out with new colors each season.

Jamil: I'll have to look for some other brands next time, something that's water proof, and won't come off even if I sweat from running or cooking.

Jamil: …Alright, I'm done. Next, I just need to set my hair.

Jamil: First, I'll take my hair oil and rub it into the ends of my hair to moisturize it… Good. Just from first glance, it doesn't look like there's any damaged strands.

Jamil: It's nice that ever since I've grown out my hair, I don't wake up to bed head, but… I never expected to have to spend this much time taking care of it.

Jamil: Letting it grow out may be easy to do, but it wouldn't do to let it go wild. Grooming it well should be the bare minimum of etiquette.

Jamil: Especially since I don't want to be seen as unsightly…. I'll just finish the braids with magic… And, done.

Jamil: …I've set it as perfectly as I normally do, but since today's my birthday, maybe I should try to spruce myself up just a little more than usual?

Jamil: Today should be a pretty long day, so I think I'll use a stronger eyeliner… Might not be bad to add a splash of color, too.

Jamil: Not only do I have the dorm party, but my clubmates have also reached out, and I promised to get together with my classmates, as well.

Jamil: …Ah, well. Looks like today is going to be one busy day. Heheh.

[Main Street]

[birthday celebration cheers]

Ortho: Ah, I spy Jamil Viper-san! Looks like he's having fun celebrating with everyone.

Ortho: Heheh… He was griping a lot yesterday, but he definitely seems like he's enjoying himself. He looks so happy!

Ortho: Hey, Jamil Viper-san! I'm here to celebrate, too. Happy Birthday!

Jamil: Hey, Ortho! You came all this way to join the celebration, too? Thanks, everyone.

Requested by @farfalla049.

[juniperdugong]

Jewelry that they'd gift you 95's ver.

Warnings: Mentions of body piercings, Slightly Suggestive (?) || 95s || 96s || 97s || Maknae Line ||

SCOUPS ⟡ Okay, my first thought is super boring...it's either a necklace or bracelet with a little cherry charm! ⟡ Still extremely cute though~ ⟡ This is deffo the gift he'd get you a couple months into the relationship, something expensive that you can brag about to your friend (trust he wants you to show it off) ⟡ Later down the road though (once he knows this is serious) he would gift you a promise ring ⟡ On the inner band he'd engrave your initials or small symbols you correlate with each other ⟡ And he'd get a matching one! ⟡ The outside would be pretty plain though - for privacy reasons (Lore drop: I got piercings so lemme indulge in my lil fantasy real quick hehehe)

⟡ HE'D GET YOU A BELLY RING WITH EITHER A CHERRY OR HEART ON IT!!! HERE YE HERE YE! ⟡ I just know this man drools at the thought of a belly piercing on his partner and them wearing something that represents him?!?!?! Bricked up.

YOU CAN'T TELL ME I'M WRONG! CAN YOU SEE THE VISION?

JEONGHAN ⟡ This man likes understated pieces on himself ⟡ So he LOVES understated pieces on you, especially "couple" related items! ⟡ If you like to go all out and are flashy with your personal jewelry he doesn't mind but he likes the idea of all the relationship stuff being just for you and him ⟡HE KNOWS he's got you wrapped around his finger (bc it's Jeonghan obvi) so he doesn't need to show off with anything fancy ⟡ His opinion is, "Well who are they coming home to? That's right, me." ⟡ He'd get you a simple bracelet or necklace, something that would go with every outfit ⟡ Obsessed with the idea that he would get you an anklet though!! ⟡ It's not visible every day but he knows it's there...whew~ (Lemme indulge in this crazy fantasy too) ⟡ Permanent jewelry. ⟡ Once he knows you're the one, he would gift you some permanent jewelry. ⟡ It's essentially a simple chain, usually a bracelet or anklet, that is welded on and can't be taken off without tools ⟡ Hehehe he's so crazy for this one ⟡ Lowkey I think he would like this idea more than wedding rings for y'all

(I go feral for the idea of lowkey possessive Jeonghannie)

JOSHUA ⟡ We all know it's true...bracelets. ⟡ Adores seeing you in anything he buys really ⟡ But bracelets take this man out! ⟡ Especially if they're ones he designed or made ⟡ Like the ones he showed off on live forever ago ⟡ Totally the type of guy to get you a Pandora bracelet and get you new charms for birthdays or special occasions ⟡ Overall I think customizable things that can grow with your relationship are very much Josh's vibe ⟡ Because what's more sentimental than something that you create together? ⟡ Plus. no one but you guys has to know the meaning and that's a point of pride for him ⟡ Seeing you explain what they mean or even seeing you refuse to explain what they mean, just knowing that whatever he buys you is going to remind you of him makes his entire heart melt into a puddle ⟡ I have a heavy fantasy about this man touring and picking up a charm every place he goes and gifting you a bracelet (or two) of all of them once he gets back or for your anniversary! ⟡ Certified sweetheart, certified sentimental man (when it comes to you)

(Quick someone write a fic about him making a bracelet for his S/O!)

A/N: Teehee, just some headcanons to fill the space between things atm (I am very obsessed with all of these tho...like an unhealthy amount of imagining going on here) Hope y'all like it though! And have a great week lovelies! Please Reblog and Comment if you enjoyed ! (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda

[mywitchyblog]

hello! I really love your content, and I’ve been following you for quite some time. i think your opinions on various topics are very thoughtful and accurate, so i have a question.

i’ve been noticing a subject (particularly on shiftok😭) where many people express their dislike of others scripting traumatic events into their realities, included to create a more intense backstory for them. for example, scripting that they lost a parent when they were younger or went through psychotic depression as a child.

i’d like to hear your opinion on this. do you think it’s okay to script some kind of trauma or disorder? personally, I don’t see an issue with it since it doesn’t affect my life or anyone else’s, but i’d love to hear your perspective on this topic!

Oh, honey, you just brought up one of my favorite rant-worthy topics. Grab a snack because we’re diving in! 🍵✨

My ✨Personal✨ Take:

First, thank you for the love, darling! It’s always a vibe connecting with someone who actually gets it. 💅 Now, let’s talk trauma scripting, because whew, the discourse around this is hotter than Satan’s sauna.

Here’s the thing: your DR is YOURS. Period. Full stop. You can script a Disney princess life or the tragic backstory of a brooding anti-hero—it’s entirely up to you. If you want to script a life-altering trauma, go off, babe. As long as you understand what you’re doing, it’s valid.

Let’s debunk the idea that “scripting trauma is bad”: In your DR, you’re living that experience. It’s not just words on paper; it becomes your reality. So if scripting something intense—like losing a parent or battling a mental health condition—helps you process, heal, or simply add depth to your DR self, that’s your business. Trauma, when scripted thoughtfully, can even be therapeutic. For some, it’s about reclaiming control over a narrative that felt chaotic or unresolved in their CR.

But let’s be clear: this isn’t playtime. You will feel what you script. The loss, the grief, the psychotic depression? It will be as real in your DR as it is for someone who’s endured it in their CR. So, if you’re scripting trauma for kicks or because you think it’s “dramatic,” you might want to take a hard look at your intentions.

The Fanfic Shifters Rant (Aka I Hate These Hoes):

Now let me pop off on these Shiftok clowns for a second. 😤 You know exactly the ones I’m talking about: the “everything’s just a quirky little fanfic” crew who waltz into shifting spaces treating their DRs like a bad Wattpad draft.

These hoes (yes, HOES) script trauma the way they’d order a pumpkin spice latte—casually, without thinking. “Oh, I’ll just throw in some childhood abandonment and sprinkle in an abusive relationship for ✨character development✨.” Like, are you dumb? Trauma isn’t a fucking aesthetic. It’s not “flavor” for your DR backstory.

When these people romanticize trauma, they trivialize the pain that real survivors experience. And worse? They make the whole shifting community look like a joke. Imagine someone who’s genuinely trying to use their DR to heal from their CR trauma stumbling upon one of these idiots? Embarrassing. I hate these hoes with the fiery passion of a thousand suns. They treat shifting like a sandbox where nothing matters and then complain when they end up spiraling in their DR because “oops, I didn’t realize depression would feel like that.” 🤡

I cannot stress this enough: your DR isn’t a fanfic. It’s your LIFE. You’ll live it, breathe it, feel it—all of it. If you’re not prepared to shoulder the weight of the trauma you’re scripting, don’t do it. And if you’re scripting trauma because you think it’s cute or cool? Stay far, far away from me. You’re not just irresponsible—you’re dangerous.

TL;DR (But Make It Iconic):

Scripting trauma is okay—as long as you’re doing it with intention and understanding the consequences.

Don’t treat trauma like it’s a quirky little accessory for your DR backstory. It’s serious, babe. Respect it.

To the fanfic shifters romanticizing trauma: I hate you hoes. Y’all are the reason people side-eye our entire community. Fix it.

Remember, shifting is about creating your dream life, not trivializing the experiences of others or glorifying pain you’ve never lived. Be mindful, stay informed, and, most importantly, don’t be a clown. 🤡✨

[izumi-fanclub]

A3! Translation: Chikage SSR Card “Rouge Rose of Love” [Valentine’s Day Gossip]

How will Chikage deal with Valentine's Day this year? He receives a blessing and a curse of course.

Part 1

Chikage

Never thought I’d share lunch with Chigasaki.

Itaru

I mean, it’s just the pizza place if we’re looking at the big picture, that’s the only common link.

Pizza Shop Clerk

Thank you for waiting, here’s your parmesan and diavola.

Chikage

Thanks, diavola’s finally here.

Itaru

I’m surprised, I half expected it to look ridiculously red like some sort of challenge menu.

Chikage

Chigasaki-san, maybe you’re just not enough of a junkie?

Itaru

Ahaha, you’d be wrong.

Pizza Shop Clerk

Excuse me for interrupting your meal, but we’re passing out our new Chocolate Chunk pizza, would you like to sample them out?

Itaru

Hehh, looks good. Thanks for the food.

Pizza Shop Clerk

Thanks for your feedback! How about you, sir?

Chikage

Sorry but I’ll have to pass, my doctor told me to avoid sweets.

Pizza Shop Clerk

I see, I apologize. Please continue enjoying your meal.

Itaru

…Is that your new year’s excuse now?

Chikage

Whatever do you mean?

Itaru

It’s about to be Valentine’s soon.

Chikage

…Ahh, so that explains the chocolate on the new menu.

Itaru

That look on you, it definitely went over your head.

Chikage

Because I’m not interested.

Itaru

Senpai you might not be, but the female employees definitely are. I overheard them talking about giving out some love chocolate to a certain senior.

There used to be rumors of you having a fiancée, but they pretty much lost their status effect now.

You’ve gotten some before here and there too.

Chikage

Well, they say gossip stays around for about 75 days or so, someone out there probably thinks I’ve been married off silently.

Who am I to deny it, even.

Itaru

Come to think of it, you’re gonna go shopping with director-san today. Wouldn’t that be the perfect chance to get down on your knee?

Chikage

Kneeling in front of director-san in public would be too unfair to her.

…In any case, I feel guilty about pulling director-san into this mess, so I’ll try and think of something else.

Izumi

Wow, the star anises really have such a pretty shape to them!

Chikage

By the way, Tsuzuru said he’s gonna make fried rice tomorrow, buying this would make it more authentic, right?

Izumi

Hmm, that’s true but then again… they look so beautiful that it feels like such a waste.

Chikage

Then, how about we buy some cinnamon sticks and make some mulled wine?

Izumi

Sounds like a plan! Let’s go with that!

Spice Specialty Store Clerk

——Sorry to keep you waiting.

Regarding the spice you ordered, I checked and it seems like it’s gonna be delayed due to some logistics issues…

I apologize for not informing you in advance.

Chikage

No worries, so when can we expect to receive it?

Spice Specialty Store Clerk

I think you can get it in around 4 days.

Chikage

Four days from now… I have a meeting on that day, so I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it before closing time.

Spice Specialty Store Clerk

I’m sincerely terribly sorry…!

Chikage

It’s fine, it’s not like we’re in a hurry. I’ll come by again on the weekend.

Izumi

Oh, well in that case, should I get it in your stead?

Chikage

You okay with that?

Izumi

Yup, I happen to have some errands nearby that day.

Chikage

Then please be my guest.

Izumi

Mhm, leave it to me!

Chikage

…Sorry, thank you as always.

Izumi

What’s wrong? You’re suddenly all serious…

Chikage

Nothing, just a lot on my mind.

Part 2

Tsumugi

…Whew, this mulled wine really hits the spot, it’s got some nice spices on it.

Citron

Gets me feeling all warm~

Azuma

The star anise adds a beautiful touch to it too.

Chikage

Director-san said the same thing too, so my suggestion on using it for fried rice was a no-go.

Azuma

Fufu, that makes sense. That’s definitely like her.

So, where’s the director at?

Chikage

Looks like the sleep got to her. To think she was the one who was looking forward to it the most.

Itaru

Sleeping this early is gonna mess up her sleep hygiene.

Azuma

Yeah, I received some chocolate that goes well with the alcohol, I wanted the director to try them out too.

Sakyo

You’ve got that pricey stuff on you again.

Banri

In a few days the place’s gonna get flooded with chocolate from everyone, so director-chan still got a chance to eat some.

Tsumugi

You’re right, Valentine’s is just around the corner.

Itaru

In other words, the overpowered senpai is gonna have his weakness revealed soon.

Chikage

This is a serious matter though.

Itaru

Just call it schadenfreude I guess.

Banri

Ain’t that old news?

Tasuku

So do you have any counter-measures in mind already?

Chikage

Nothing yet unfortunately.

Itaru

At lunch you turned down that chocolate pizza talking about some “My doctor told me not to eat it.” excuse.

Chikage

If I use that excuse at work, it’ll stir up a different kind of trouble.

Tsumugi

Hmm, then again it’s hard to come up with a reason to turn them down especially when it’s done out of the goodwill of the giver.

Chikage

But this year I got a full day’s worth of meetings scheduled so I think I can manage.

Banri

Oh, well that’s a relief.

Citron

It is no relief! Just a temporary solution! That will not do! The same troubles will appear again next year!

Itaru

…He’s being sensible for once.

Chikage

I forgot about it this year and couldn’t do anything so far, but next year I’ll be on a business trip.

Citron

No! That is still a temporary solution!

Banri

Feels like the issue’s just growing.

Citron

That is why we should practice rejection together!

Chikage

Practice rejection?

Azuma

Fufu, well isn’t this interesting.

Tasuku

That’s to be expected, honestly.

Itaru

…I’m not surprised anymore at this point, but still, why me?

Citron

But of course! This is a family matter for everyone!

Chikage

Sorry, Chigasaki.

Itaru

Nah, you don’t sound sorry at all. …Sigh, it’s a relief I got up and finished an event early.

Chikage

So Citron, we went all the way out in Veludo way, care to explain why that is?

Itaru

Yeah, you can practice rejection at the dorms.

Citron

That much is obvious. It is because we are actors! This is the only place to practice!

Chikage

That’s…

Itaru

Do you mean…

Citron

Frankly, a rejection etude! Yes!

Passerby A

Oh, isn’t that spring troupe?

Passerby B

It is! Think they’re up to doing a street act?

Chikage & Itaru

…

Itaru

…I’m not sure if I’m up for this.

Chikage

Let’s just get this over with.

Chikage & Itaru

…

Passerby A

…He’s looking at his phone, is he waiting for a notif?

Passerby B Maybe he’s checking the time.

Chikage

“Are you here to meet someone too?”

Itaru

“Eh?” Chikage

“I mean, isn't it Valentine's day?”

Itaru

“Yeah that’s true, some lady hit me up and told me to meet her here around 1pm.”

Chikage

“What a coincidence, I’m here for the same reason.”

“Whenever I get called out like this on Valentine’s Day, I get excited like some highschooler wondering what it’s for.”

Itaru

“Yeah, I get you. Me too.”

“Forgive me for prying but… have you decided on an answer yet?”

Chikage

“Hmm, I was thinking of turning down——”

Itaru

“Ehh, you too?”

Chikage

“So you’re in the same boat?”

Citron

“——Sorry, I was late!” Chikage & Itaru

“No, it’s fine——”

Chikage

“Ehh…”

Itaru

“Eh?”

Citron

“Eeh!? Chikage and Itaru, why are you both here…”

“...No way, silly me! I accidentally sent the message to both of you!”

Chikage & Itaru

“Huh…?”

Passerby A

… So basically, one of them’s the genuine one and the other is a backup?

Passerby B

Woah…

Chikage

“Um, Itaru-san, do you have a second?”

Itaru

“Yeah, of course. I was meaning to talk to you too.”

Chikage

“You can reject first.”

Itaru

“Eh, no way, that’d make me seem like the backup. You should be the first to actually say no.”

Chikage

“That’s gonna be a different story.”

Kanazuka

So this is Veludo Way. It’s my first time here, but there sure are a lot of people… Huh? Seems like there’s a crowd over there.

Chikage

“——I’m not giving up, even if I was just the second option, I can’t let it end like this!” Kanazuka

!? Is that Utsuki-san and Chigasaki-san from the company…!? This is unbelievable…!

Part 3

Chikage

Thanks for your hard work throughout the meeting.

Employee A

Great job as well. Ah, since it’s Valentine’s Day, I prepared some chocolate.

Employee B

This calls for tea time, then. I’ll go make some coffee. You drink coffee too, right, Utsuki-san?

Chikage

I——.

Employee A

Oops, I think Utsuki-san will get some from his girlfriend later.

Yeah, that’s right. Sorry about that, Utsuki-san.

Chikage

…? No it’s okay.

Then, I’ll take my leave.

Chikage

(If I head over there now, I think I can make it just in time for closing time. I wonder if I should contact director-san about how the spices are.)

Itaru

——Hey, senpai. You got a minute?

Chikage

Chigasaki?

Chikage

Is it something urgent? If it’s not, just tell me about it at home.

Itaru

Looks like the gossip hasn’t reached you yet.

Chikage

Gossip?

Itaru

Apparently, even though your fiancée is dating me now, there’s a rumor going around that you haven’t given up on her completely…

Chikage

…Hah?

Itaru

A co-worker saw that previous street act we did and mistook it for a fight between you and me.

Chikage

Street act…

You surely don’t mean the one where Citron pulled a bootcamp over dealing with “rejection”, right?

Itaru

That’s right, after all it wasn’t rehearsed at all and we ended up just going with the flow of Citron’s act.

Chikage

…So that explains it, is that why I felt a weird vibe during the meeting earlier?

Itaru

We’re actors, that’s understood by regulars of Veludo Way, but the co-worker that happened to witness it was someone unfamiliar with the whole concept.

Then the gossip mill jumped on the bandwagon and said stuff like “Maybe there’s some truth beneath the surface of that act.”

Chikage

Talk about a pain…

Itaru

You said it.

Chikage

(I kinda took advantage of that in the past, so I don’t really have the right to complain.)

Chikage

… Speaking of, what happened to the rumor that Chigasaki’s sister is my fiancée?

Itaru

I don’t know, I think they just assumed you’ve broken up.

Then, what do we do? Looks like senpai’s history with love is getting pretty complicated.

Chikage

Whatever, it’ll probably just die down soon anyway so I won’t do anything about it, I’ll just head home.

Besides, hanging around you like this might be counterproductive.

Itaru

True that. I’ll wrap up my overtime work and head home early too.

Chikage

(...Not sure if it’s the rumor’s effect or I’m just being overly conscious of it, but I didn’t get any chocolate at all.)

(...It could be better, but I guess it still works out in the end, that rumor will die down soon, and I’m sure the director——)

Izumi

Ah, Chikage-san!

Chikage

Director-san?

Izumi

I got to the store early and had some time so I thought of bringing it to you directly.

Chikage

That’s right, I was just thinking of telling you to meet there since I could make it before closing time, but…

I realized I completely forgot to do it.

Izumi

Really now? That’s pretty rare for you, Chikage-san.

Chikage

A bit of an unexpected issue came up.

Izumi

Good on you for dealing with it.

Chikage

… Director-san, are you in a good mood?

Izumi

Fufu, I just found something good, is all. Ah right, the spices, here you go.

Chikage

Thanks. You’re a huge help.

(... There’s a ribbon on it, is this part of the service?)

(From an outsider’s perspective, they’ll probably assume I’m receiving Valentine’s chocolate out of context.)

(Not sure if the director noticed, but I feel the gaze of people from the company around for a while now.)

Izumi

What’s up?

Chikage

Nothing, it’s just that it feels like a gift when it’s ribboned like this.

Izumi

It is… kind of a present.

Chikage

Present?

(There’s something else aside from the spices I asked her to pick up.)

Chikage

…Does this bottle also have spice?

[ Option 1: Open and see for yourself ] Izumi Open it and check it out. Chikage Right here? Izumi Is it not good here? Chikage That’s not the issue but… well I’ll just open it.

[ Option 2: It’s nothing suspicious ] Izumi Don’t worry, it’s not fishy or anything. Chikage Should I be concerned? Izumi No, I mean it! It really is just a gift. Chikage Well, as long as it’s director-san, I’ll believe it.

Chikage

…Chocolate?

Izumi

Yup, they’re spice seeds coated in chocolate, they were pretty good when I tried them out at the store!

I bought it thinking maybe Chikage-san could enjoy it too, it’s Valentine’s Day after all.

Chikage

…

Izumi

Oh, don’t worry about returning the favor, a tasty curry made with the spices would just be fine.

Chikage

(I didn’t mean to drag you into this again… I’m sure the gossip’s gonna get updated tomorrow.)

…It’s not my fault anymore, it’s the director’s.

Izumi

Hm?

Story Clear!

[maiiuelle]

what if rafe was one of the readers managers and she was a pop star of some sort? i feel like we'd end up seeing a documentary about that because he's making under the table deals to get her more publicity, but also setting her up for drama to make both of them more popular !! he def also gives her something to keep her going through exhaustion and that's a whole 'nother thing !!

whew that was a lot! also hi!! i'm back from the dead!

- 🪻

OMGG HEY!!

okay walk with me here, you start dating rafe already chasing your dream of becoming a pop star. you’ve run into nothing but useless managers and dead ends, so you moved back home to the outer banks and picked up bartending.

you tell rafe all of this, just casual new relationship small talk — but he gets hooked on it. “y’know, i have crazy connections — like, through my dad and shit — so, if you’re serious about it, i mean.. i could prolly help you out.”

you don’t stop to consider he might be in it for the money, at first not convinced yourself you’ll make anything after your past failed attempts at stardom. but, rafe pulls through. you start booking small gigs on the island, singing at weddings and small venues until your name really starts getting out there.

of course, it’s not all thanks to your talent, though he lets you think it is. he could never tell you that your career is nothing more than a very elaborate front for his own business, he’d rather let you have your fun while he makes millions.

fame puts a strain on your relationship with rafe, surely, especially with him being your manager. you’d expect a little comfort from your boyfriend, but you come to him exhausted before a show, and he couldn’t seem more inconvenienced.

your glittery outfit scrapes over rafe’s pressed suit when you fall into his arms. “princess, seriously? what — what, what is it? hm?” he pulls you back up on your feet, tapping your cheek in irritation.

“i can’t do this.” you suck in a shaky breath, clutching your chest trying to breathe away a sob. he sighs frustratedly from his nose, pressing his lips together in disappointment. “rafe, i can’t—”

he puts his arm around your shoulders, looking around the room as he digs his other hand into his pocket. it sounds like there’s a plastic bag inside, and his thick fingers come out coated in white powder. he turns you a little, holding you up when you trip over your heels. “shh, shh, you’re good.”

rafe pushes his fingers under your lip, rubbing them over your gums for a second. you squirm at the feeling, but he holds you still. when he stops, you smack your lips, looking up at him in dazed confusion.

he smiles, finally looking proud as he kisses your sweaty forehead. “see, there you go, baby. you’re perfect. get moving, you’re on in 5.”

[mcsm-confessions]

i love shipping as much as the next person but i also really like to focus on just the characters and their dynamics outside of a shipping thing.

like for example, i LOVE olivia. i love her deeply. i even have an entire au centered around her and how she would react to losing someone she cared about. i want to explore her character more, and i think it's lovely that she's sarcastic and intelligent. i also wish she wasn't just completely reduced to being a "mom friend" or just to be shipped with axel.

i LOVE axel x olivia. i think they're very cute. but i would like it if they weren't completely boiled down to that.

speaking of axel: I LOVE AXEL!!!! he's protective and stubborn and selfish but nearing the end he sets aside his selfishness to nearly sacrifice himself to protect his friends. AND THAT'S AMAZING. but everyone just . demonizes him for being mean to lukas for a while [AND HE WAS MEAN RIGHTFULLY SO.] and. also. btw. axel is fat. axel is fat why does everyone just draw him skinny he's LITERALLY FAT IT IS, WHILE UNFORTUNATELY SAID VIA FAT JOKES, LITERALLY TOLD TO YOUR FACE that he is FAT. there is nothing WRONG with being fat. do you think. that making him skinny. will right the wrongs of those jokes. ALSO. BY THE WAY. I HAVE SEEEEEEENNNNN PEOPLE TRY TO REMOVE AXEL'S UNIBROW. YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS. im so sorry im just. urgh. okay. whew.

on to lukas: he's not as soft as everyone thinks he is. that's it. he's sarcastic and witty and snappy and pissy. he's not your pathetic uwu soft boy that everyone wants to portray him ass. im sick of everyone reducing him down to that just for jesskas. im sick of it. i like jesskas. its GREAT. its cute! but it's all done wrong. its all done so so so wrong. he can abso-LUTELY be pathetic, yes! but that isnt his ENTIRE character.

before i finish this, i have ONE more character to talk about.

HARPER.

EVERYONE JUST. everyone just boils harper down to being ivor's wife. hey i love their dynamic and i think they're a very cute couple. but i would like a bit of more focus on harper's character herself and her dynamics with everyone else. she's snappy, she's sarcastic and quick-witted, she feels deep guilt and is desperately trying to convince herself that it wasnt her fault. she knows what's going on, and she feels so much fucking guilt. AND I WANT THAT EXPLORED. I WANT THAT EXPLORED AS MUCH AS IVOR'S GUILT IS EXPLORED. im gonna fucking lose it. i love harper and everyone just. uurrrghhhh.

this is what i see the most in the mcsm fandom and. honestly. i genuinely wish that people would look more into these characters rather than just boiling them down to Basic Traits.

~~~

[2aceofspades]

4.) When did you become a fan of TMNT?

18.) Who is your favorite villain?

19.) Who is your favorite ally?

27.) What is something you love to see in TMNT art/fics?

28.) What is one thing you would like to see explored more in TMNT art/fics?

33.) What is your favorite thing you've made for TMNT?

35.) Which character relationships are your favorite to write/draw?

Sorry there's so many 😅 you don't have to answer them all if you don't want to.

I absolutely ADORE your art btw, it is so amazing and so nice to look at and it's just ✨✨✨

Anywizzle, I hope you have a great rest of your day/night :]

4.) I guess I became an official fan a little bit after the Rise movie came out. Of course, I had known about TMNT when I was pretty little cuz my older sib was a fan. I also watched a bit of the 2003 show and 2012 show growing up ✨

18.) I really like Big Mama. She's such a slay 💖 I also really like Rise!Shredder and the Mud Dogs

19.) Cassandra 😭💙✨ that's my girl 💙 Also April cuz she kicks major ass and is such a good friend fr fr 💚

27.) Angst 😌 but like, relatable angst~ So, written or drawn trauma that speaks to me, I suppose. It's a major reason why I adore EMD so much. It makes me feel seen and understood in a way that hits so hard in such a good way augh yess

28.) That's a good question, and one that I can't say I've thought too much about, to be so honest. I think, for me, I would like to see more of Big Mama's assistant on my dash, but that's more so me just being out of the loop hehe 😅 There is another more serious topic that I would like to see be talked about, but I don't really have the words to articulate it currently.

33.) Whew, um...if not the 3K celebration I did for EMD (cuz that was so fun to create hehe~) then maybe some of the more rendered pieces I've made for my own au (rip TWFTB). Although, I love a lot of the stuff I draw for EMD for many reasons <3

Here are some of my overall faves in no particular order~

I don't yap about or draw for my own au anymore, but that's okay/gen

35.) I love drawing f!April and f!Cassandra being all lovey-dovey 💕 It seriously makes me so happy and I should draw them more 😤♥️ Also, I loved drawing f!Raph and f!Leo co-leading in the resistance in my au.

No worries at all! I love these ask games and I very much appreciate your curiosity 🤗✨

Also AAAWEEE!!! Thank you so much!! 🥹💙 I really appreciate it 🙌🙌 I hope you have a great day/night as well 🌟 Thank you again!!

(:

[dyscanthe]

Butler's Christmas 2024

Chapter 2: A Promise to Lono

This is a rough translation of the story. You may encounter minor errors on the way, please be understanding and considerate (⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠) With that being said, enjoy reading!

[ One day as Christmas is approaching, Lono invited me to visit the city of Espoir. Lono said that the city is decorated for Christmas. ]

Lono: Arujisama, we’re in town now! Watch your step.

[ Thank you. ]

— Central Land, Espoir —

Lono: Oh that’s right, this’s pre-Christmas Espoir. There’s so many people in the market. Arujisama, please hold my arm firmly so you don’t fall even when you’re pushed, it’s going to be especially crowded near the popular products.

[ Thank you, Lono. ]

Lono: Even so, the city is in the Christmas mood already. The ingredients at the store are all standard Christmas dinners. What should I make for Christ

Lono: What should I make for Christmas this year~? Let’s keep the usual menu in mind… Arujisama, do you have anything you want to eat?

[ Hmm, let’s see… ]

Lono: Hehe, if you ask me, I’m not sure.

[ i’ll think about it. ]

Lono: Say anything! You don’t have to hold back! Oh I mean, will you be able to spend Christmas in the mansion this year? I’d like for Arujisama to spend more time in the mansion as possible. Slowly savoring the Christmas dish, and of course we also have a gift for you—it’s still a secret though.

[ I’m sorry you have to do all that. ]

Lono: Oh no Arujisama~ I’m the one who should be feeling sorry for you!

[ Lono? Why? ]

Lono: Thanks to you, I’m able to live such a fulfilling life, and the only thing I can do is cook and wear a blazer.

[ It’s not “only” ]

Lono: Arujisama…?

[ You’ve done a lot, Lono. ]

[ Lono always do his best for me. While this feeling of gratitude rises, suddenly it occurred to me that I could give Lono a gift. It’s just a sudden idea, I told Lono I want to give something back. ]

Lono: Arujisama will give something to me… I think this is probably something a butler shouldn’t take. But let’s see… if Arujisama wants to give something back to me…

Lono: Excuse me, can you lend me your ear? From here on, I don’t want anyone to heart about it.

[ Okay. ]

[ Lono gently appoaches my ear. ]

Lono: Would you be willing to go on a… date with me?

[ Date? ]

Lono: Yes, a date. It wasn’t a spontaneous idea, it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. As proof of this, I’ve thought about dating Arujisama many times before.

Lono: I haven’t done it yet but, how about it? Are you interested in dating me, Arujisama?

[ I’m glad, let’s go date. ]

Lono: Hehe that’s good! I knew Arujisama would say that. Since it’s been decided, we need to make a plan! Let’s have fun together to the fullest today!

[ Mhm! ]

Lono: That’s good.

[ Hm? ]

Lono: Ah, sorry… I was talking to myself.

[ What’s “good”? ]

Lono: Actually, I’ve been wondering for a long time when will I ask Arujisama on a date. But I didn’t have the courage to do so. You see, timing is important. And if you refuse, well…

[ Hehe. ]

Lono: Ah! Arujisama, you laughed!

[ So that’s what you’re thinking about. ]

Lono: I think about it! I’m serious here—

[ I’m even happier to hear that. ]

Lono: Whew.. Let’s stop talking about this!

[ Mhm~ ]

Lono: Hehehe… Hahaha!

[ Hehehe ]

Lono: Haa~ I’m so relieved~

Lono: Ah yes Arujisama, can I lend your ears again? Hehe, sorry about this… Let’s keep this date a secret between us.

[ .. ! ]

Lono: Sharing secrets like this… It will spice up the date and make it more memorable.

Lono: Hehe, what do you think? I’ve been thinking about it quite hard, haven’t I? I told you it’s a way to give back to me. And as for me, I see it as an opportunity to entertain Arujisama in a way that I normally can’t do.

[ Lono… ]

Lono: I’ll make it a date that you can enjoy to the fullest!

Lono: Oh my.. I said it out loud that I’m on a date.

[ Hehe. ]

[ Me and Lono made a secret promise… We both enjoyed our time together. ]

[phoenixthegreat101]

Wassup y’all. Remember this?

That’s right, it’s part two time. I wanted to make it because I posted it ages ago and I wanted to make the next part. So here it is. You’re welcome <3

ʚ Confessions ɞ

It had been a few days since Scout had realised his feelings for you, and he’d been trying to distance himself from you, something that hurt you greatly. You didn’t understand it. Was it something you did? Something you said? You didn’t know. What you did know was that something was wrong with Scout. You’d tried talking to him about it, but every time he’d shut you down and say something about being tired. One day you decided that you’d had enough. It was after that day’s battle that you cornered him in the locker room, determined to know what was bugging him.

“Alright, what’s up with you?” You said, blocking the door that lead out of the room. Scout tried to get past you but you were quick to block him. “I’m serious, Scout. Why have you been avoiding me?” He winced at the hurt in your tone. He hadn’t meant to hurt you, he really hadn’t, but every time that you looked at him he could feel his heart speed up and his palms get sweaty. He was scared of you finding out about his feelings, but now it seemed like they were going to come out either way. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say.

“(Y/N)… there’s something I gotta tell ya.”

You raised your eyebrows. This didn’t sound like your Scout at all, with his quiet tone and downcast gaze. He was silently grateful for his hat, which somewhat hid his flushed cheeks.

“Okay? What is it? I won’t get mad if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“O-okay, so um… th-the thing is… I..,” Scout inwardly cursed himself for his stuttering, and your worried eyes on him didn’t make it any better. He suddenly lunged forward and crashed his lips into yours, sending you stumbling a little from the momentum. You were stunned. Was this real? Was Scout actually kissing you right now?? After a few seconds he pulls away, tipping his hat down to hide his face, which resembles an overripe tomato. You stood there staring at him, your face equally as flushed. “I-I’ve been avoiding ya because I love ya, (Y/N). I realised it when we were up on the roof. I-I understand if you hate me now or don’t want to talk to me anymore, but-“

Before he could say anything else, you lunged forward and smashed your lips against his, sending you both toppling over onto the floor. If his face wasn’t flushed before, it was now. You could actually feel the heat coming off of it. After a few seconds you pulled away, smiling broadly at him.

“You’re such an idiot.” You said. He smiled back softly and kissed you again. You lay there for a moment, kissing each other gently when a loud voice cut through your moment.

“WHAT IN SAM HILL IS GOING ON IN HERE?!” You turned to see Soldier staring down at you, his expression shocked. You glanced back at Scout, knowing you were in for an earful. He smiled lopsidedly at you. You smiled back. At least, now, you were together. And that was really mattered.

Whew, this was pretty good to write. Thanks to the anon who requested the first part, otherwise this wouldn’t exist.

-Axel

💐

Tag list

@captain-pheonix @the-laughing-lunatic

I don’t know many people lol-

[apollabarnes]

burn (notice) after reading

under a read more because while this is absolute crack it is based on some spoiler-ly photos (if you've seen them you know!) from one of the episodes after the two-parter. this is, obviously, an au of both shows.

does it help if you've seen burn notice before? probably! but don't worry, you'll just be as confused as our main 911 fella.

dear @leashybebes i guess this is my wip wednesday? (don't worry, young gina and young abby are having fun as we speak and that should be done soon! but i am freaking out just a little and the crack sure did help hahaha)

"What is going on?"

"That's a great question, Bobby. We'll be happy to answer that once we're not here. Fi, how's it looking?"

"You know how much I love a construction site, Michael. Ten minutes." The woman started digging through the piles of materials left behind by the builders. She crowed when she found a container of wood varnish, and Bobby was legitimately terrified by the sparkle in her eyes when she came up with a package of nails.

"Any chance we can make it less than ten minutes? We're not outrunning the cartel by that much." The third in their little trio peered out the front window, resting a shotgun against the frame.

"If you want this to go faster, Sam, you should help instead of chattering. I would like to keep all of my fingers and I need to focus."

"Why do I go through all the trouble of setting aliases up if no one ever uses them?"

"Sam, we can talk about it later."

"Hey, Bobby, do you and the wife have any booze— right, right, you're sober, my bad. You think any of the construction guys…"

The back door opened with a thud and a fourth man eased his way in, a large bag slung over his shoulders. "Whew, this guy is heavy."

"What the hell is that?"

"Sam, you want to give me a hand?"

"Sure thing, Jesse. Bobby, meet El Hefe the second. He's going to be standing in for you in this little psychodrama."

"That's a dead body."

"Ooh, he's perceptive. Don't touch, this is very unstable. You know what, maybe you should stand on the other side of the room." Fi brandished a wooden spoon at Bobby when he tried to get a look at what she was stirring together in a bucket.

"I'm calling the cops."

"Great idea. Wait five minutes."

"Mike, I just want to remind you that you promised we wouldn't have to deal with cartels any more after we left Miami."

"You know what, you're right, next time I'll let our client deal with it themselves."

"Hey, no, that's not what I meant, I just—"

"Yeah, Sam. Not my first choice either."

"Michael, this is ready."

"Great, can you and Jesse—"

"Booby trap the doors, got it."

"Sam—"

"El Hefe at the front window. On it, Mikey."

"Bobby, you're with me. You ready to call the cops?"

"On you?"

"On the cartel. Can you do that for me? …No. Okay. Give me the cell phone."

"What are you going to do with that?"

Michael held a hand up, clearing his throat as the phone rang. "This is Captain Bobby Nash, LAFD. There are three cars filled with armed men approaching my house. I need police here immediately. I'm home alone, my wife is on shift. Oh my—"

"How did you do that?"

"Accents are easier than you think they are. Guys, pack it up, we've got cops on the way and ninety seconds to clear this place before the actual cartel starts shooting us."

"Waiting on you, Mikey."

"Come on, Bobby. We're going to have a very serious conversation as soon as we're somewhere with less bullets," Michael grabbed Bobby's arm, steering him out the back door.

"You just blew up my house."

"Second time in a year. You don't have the best luck," Fiona said, digging through the fridge. "Michael, it's just yogurt and beer in here. Would buying fruit actually kill you?"

"There's fruit in the yogurt."

"That's not the point and you know it!"

"Give them a few minutes," Jesse told Bobby under his breath. "They have this fight at least once a week."

"Here man, you like lemonade?" Sam offered Bobby a glass, two beer bottles dangling from his other hand. He offered one of those to Jesse.

Bobby eyed the bottles appraisingly and Sam pulled them back out of his reach. "Nu-uh. I get it, today was stressful, but I'm not about to help someone jump off their bandwagon."

"This is not the serious conversation I was promised. I need to call my wife."

"Sure," Sam nodded understandingly, sitting down in the armchair across from them. "I mean, there is one small problem with that — we kind of lost your phone in the explosion."

"What do you mean — how did we lose my phone? Your friend Mike used it to call the cops right before I got dragged out of there without, I might add, so much as an explanation."

"Well, here's the thing Bobby. The first rule of being dead is leaving behind anything that can be tied to you. If your phone isn't with your body, then there's a whole thing where everyone gets suspicious about the death. Was it really you, was it staged, what's going on…"

"You blew up my house and kidnapped me, that's what's going on, and I would like to leave before my wife thinks that I'm actually dead."

"Technically, yes, we did do that. But only so the cartel didn't kill you first."

Bobby eyed Sam, wondering how quickly he could get past him and out the front door. Michael and Fiona had spent the entire time back to this apartment bickering in the car and Jesse seemed cautiously amused by everything that was going on. Sam was probably the biggest obstacle.

Sam grinned slowly at his assessing stare, toasting him with his beer bottle. He arched an eyebrow and Bobby could read the challenge on his face. Bobby took a sip of his lemonade.

"I have no idea who was in those sedans we passed on the way out of the neighbourhood, you could be lying to me."

"You remember Dennis Jenkins?" Michael asked suddenly.

"The man who killed my wife's fiance? Yeah, he's a hard man to forget."

"So it turns out that the cartel supplements their drug business with hits for hire. And one of those people in the black book hired them to take out the only people who could prove its provenance," Sam picked up the thread of the conversation. "Jenkins' daughter reached out last week when he had another 'accident' and long story short, a cartel member might have mentioned your name when we stopped them."

"El Hefe the second?" Bobby asked wryly. He was in a house full of killers. He figured he should be worried about whether or not they'd let him live, but they'd already had a chance to get rid of him and hadn't taken it. "So you're — private security?"

They laughed.

"Nah. Well," Jesse paused, tilting his head and considering the question, "Kind of. But our clients are generally…"

"In a lot of trouble. You were supposed to get a bullet in your head today," Fiona said bluntly. She hopped up on the counter, peeling the lid of a cup of yogurt. "You're welcome, by the way."

"…Thanks. So. Now we call the cops and let them handle it?"

"What makes you think there aren't cops in that black book who are eager to keep their noses clean of this whole mess?" Sam asked, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table and draining his beer.

That pulled Bobby up short. "I…"

"Right, you trust the ones you work with. But there are a lot of cops," Michael shrugged nonchalantly, reaching around Fiona to open the fridge. "The trick is finding the right one to take care of this. And no, before you ask, it can't be Athena."

"We've done jobs like these before," Fiona added. "A week, ten days tops, and we'll have all your nasty little friends tied up in a bow and delivered to someone unimpeachable. Then it's back home with your wife and back to putting out fires."

"I'm not sure I'd call Harris and Lane — never mind."

"Oh, you like them when they pay you to spy on your friends but not any other time?" Fiona snapped, leaning forward. Her grip on her spoon shifted and Bobby wondered if she was actually going to try and stab Sam with it.

"That was over ten years ago! Mike forgave me right away. When are you going to let it go?"

"When I'm dead."

"Technically speaking, Fi…"

"They have this argument at least once a week too," Jesse whispered to Bobby, smiling faintly. Bobby recognized the tone. Sometimes you had to laugh at your family.

"Who wins?" Bobby whispered back.

"Guys, we still need to figure out our approach, can we do that and then snipe at each other? Please?" Michael asked, leaning against the counter.

"Fine," Fiona tossed her hair over her shoulder, ignoring Sam. "You owe me dinner, Michael. Somewhere nice."

[lomlkenji]

༊*·˚ prettiest | reggie peters

★ summary : luke being a good wing man. 

★ warnings : fluff, jealous reader & angst if u squint <3

── ⋆⋅☆ main masterlist

You were happy seeing your friends performing on stage. But the nerves never leave your body as you control the lights, giving the room more vibe for people to enjoy themselves. 

The stage hand wearing a headset freaked out seeing came out of nowhere and started controlling the panel but he was so focused on the lights and the band, he didn't even remember who was controlling it. 

You were never in Sunset Curve, but you know damn well how to make a show more epic. 

You were the master of light and beats. So before you died, the band was always asking you to help them with their shows. You were more like an honorary member of the band and you wouldn't change it for the world. 

As the song ended you poofed back with the boys, slightly losing your balance. You landed next to Reggie and your hands brushed against each other making you all flustered, quickly retracting your hand back. 

You always had a thing on the boy but he seems to be oblivious to it. Not Luke or Alex tho, they think you're too obvious. 

You were at the front side of the stage, away from the crowd. Reggie on your left, Luke and Alex to your right. 

"That's wild! They could see us when we were playing but not when the music ended." Luke said in bewilderment. 

You nodded, a small smile lingering on your face. His eyes were practically shining with excitement and you smiled softly at him. His passion for music always admired you. 

"We should double check." Reggie said as he moved up to a small staircase and started to roll his hips. 

The sight made you bursted out laughing, not noticing the soft look he gave you when he heard the sound. Your smile made him fill with warmth and to know he's the reason? Whew. 

When nobody paid attention to him he gave up, "Yeah I dont-" and he moved down to stand back beside you "I don't think they can see us." he sighed. 

"I wish I couldn't see you" Alex breathed out. 

"ALEX!" you smacked his arm as your jaw dropped, trying to contain your laughter. 

Alex rubbed the spot you hit him as Luke just laughed at his friends' odd behaviour. 

"Okay people, show's over! Let's get back to class please." the principal announced. 

After most of the people made their way out, two girls stopped at the side, seeming to be having an argument. The girl with purple hair seemed to get Reggie's attention as he moved in front of her. 

"Hey there." he greeted, trying to get her intention. 

"Hi." he tried again. 

"Reggie." he said, introducing himself like the girl could see him. "Could I maybe call you sometime?" 

It brought a small frown on your face as your chest tightens, but you shrugged it off. 

Alex saw the way your face fell and put his arm around your shoulders, "He'll come around." he said softly. 

You sighed, "Don't think so but that's fine." 

Alex gave you a small smile and Luke has a genius plan, asking you guys to poof where Julie was going to walk too. 

The plan was a stupid one, but hey it doesn't hurt to try. So you moved to a spot but realised that it was kind of far, so you moved again. The plan was to scare Julie, Reggie and Alex planked while Luke got on top of their thighs, you were placed in front of Luke, crouching. 

When Julie turned the corner you all yelled at the same time. "JULIE!" 

"AH YOU!" she screamed "Stop doing that! I'm serious!" her tone was more stern as she calmed the sudden spike in her chest. 

You guys all smiled sheepishly as Luke got down, standing up straight and moving beside Reggie. 

"Whoa whoa this one's on you, we were already here. Well actually we were over there and then we came over here" Reggie explained making you let out a chuckle. 

"Are we not gonna talk about what just happened?" Luke exclaimed, his eyes wide with amazement.

Julie nodded her head, "Yeah, the whole school saw you. It's kinda freaking me out." she spoke anxiously. 

Breathing out a sigh in relief, Alex started to ramble, "Okay good! Cause it's kind of freaking me out too.'' Alex continued to say that his clothes are made of air but he still has a wedgie which made you all scrunch your nose in disgust. 

Luke broke the silence, turning to face Julie again. "The only important thing is we rocked that place! They were loving  you." he beamed. 

She looked at him with the same look he has, "Are you kidding? They loved us! That was a great song luke. Thanks." their eyes were twinkling with awe for each other and that made you soft. 

But your grin quickly turned into a frown as Reggie changed the topic, "And did you see the cheerleaders looking at me? I think they were looking at me. Please tell me they were." he begged at Luke. 

Luke sighed and cupped Reggie's face with his hands, "Why find a cheerleader when you got them?" Luke said as his head nudged at your direction 

You almost choked on air at his statement. 

Reggie's eyes widened as he turned his head towards you but you quickly averted your gaze. "I'm just so confused, like how is this possible?" you asked, nervously shifting the topic. 

"The afterlife should come with instructions, you know?" Alex said, backing up your point. 

Reggie moved closer to you as Luke, Alex and Julie continued to talk about the band. "What does Luke mean by 'you got them' " Reggie whispered. His hot breath sent shivers down your spine as butterflies appeared in your stomach. 

"Nothing." you muttered, not meeting his eyes. 

"You know you're prettier than all the cheerleaders in the world right?" he mumbled quietly and started to play with his fingers. A nervous habit you picked up on. 

Your head snapped up towards him, eyebrows furrowed together, "What do you mean?" you asked softly. 

"I'm just saying you're pretty." he muttered, slowly looking up, meeting your eyes, staring up at him like he was the only one who mattered. 

"Really?" you croaked out. How the hell are you supposed to react when your crush says you're pretty? 

He stares at you longingly before whispering, "The prettiest."

reblog for a kiss!💋

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Backstage Story Translation - Tsumugi Tsukioka SSR - Treasure Hunt: TSUMUGI - Part 2

tysm to fuyugumiyuri on twitter for providing a video of the story!

also proofread by myuntachis!

Tsumugi: Whew…

[Door opening]

Chikage: I’m home.

Tsumugi: Oh, Chikage-san. Welcome back.

Chikage: Did you just get home too, Tsumugi?

Tsumugi: Yes, I was at a social gathering for my part-time job. You were a little late too, Chikage-san.

Chikage: I had a bit of overtime to do. It took longer than I thought.

Tsumugi: Sounds like you’re busy…

Chikage: Well, I’ve got to catch up on the work I put aside because we had to prepare for the Nihil performance.

Chikage: It looks like I’ll be done by next week, though, so no need to worry.

Tsumugi: I see…

Chikage: … You look like you want to say something.

Tsumugi: No… It’s not that important.

Tsumugi: Since we finished the Nihil performance without a hitch, I was thinking… we should have a drinking party as two people who played the same role.

Chikage: A wrap party, huh? … Why not? Like I said, I should be free from next week onwards.

Tsumugi: Really? Let’s do it, then.

Chikage: Got it. I suppose I’ll have to look for a shop.

Tsumugi: Thank you! I’m looking forward to it.

-

Staff: Welcome.

Tsumugi: Ah, I have a reservation under the name Utsuki…

Staff: Utsuki-sama, yes. You may take a seat over here.

Tsumugi: (I got to the restaurant Chikage-san made a reservation at… but it seems I got here before him.)

Tsumugi: (This is my first time here, but this seems like a good place with a nice ambiance.)

[Door opening]

Chikage: Thanks for waiting. Good work today, Tsumugi.

Tsumugi: Ah, Chikage-san. Good work today.

Tsumugi: Thank you for making a reservation. This is a wonderful place.

Chikage: Our company uses it for entertainment. It’s got a nice atmosphere, so I figured you’d like it too.

Tsumugi: Thank you. I really do like it.

Tsumugi: Did you manage to finish up your backlog at work?

Chikage: Yeah, everything’s calmed down now. Chigasaki seems to be getting busier, on the other hand.

Tsumugi: Ahaha… We’ll have to throw a drinking party as a reward for him.

Tsumugi: That aside… We drink at the dorms from time to time, but I don’t really get the chance to drink with you when you’re all suited up. This is a nice change of pace.

Chikage: When you put it like that, it’s a rather new experience for the two of us to be drinking out.

Tsumugi: Fufu, you’re right.

Chikage: For now, let’s order. What should we drink?

Tsumugi: When the Winter Troupe goes out drinking, we tend to start with beer. We could start with something else today, though.

Tsumugi: … Oh, they have plum liqueur and other kinds of fruit liqueur. Sounds delicious.

Chikage: This one’s rejuvenating, and this one’s got a sweeter taste, I suppose.

Tsumugi: Fufu, these drinks here sound like things Hisoka-kun and Juza-kun would enjoy.

-

Tsumugi: Haa… This drink is delicious.

Chikage: Tsumugi, your face is getting a little red.

Tsumugi: Really? I haven’t had the chance to drink a lot lately, so the alcohol might be getting to me a little quickly.

Chikage: Shouldn’t you take it easy on account of your schedule tomorrow?

Tsumugi: It’s okay, I don’t have anything planned. What about you?

Chikage: Banri and I are planning on going to an escape room tomorrow. But don’t worry, drinking doesn’t affect me much the day after.

Tsumugi: An escape room…

Tsumugi: Chikage-san, why won’t you go to one with me? We even promised we’d solve a mystery together again when we were studying for our role…

Chikage: We did promise that. Tomorrow’s game needs two people to form a tag team, so… I’ll invite you next time.

Tsumugi: Promise? I’ll stick a needle in your eye if you’re lying.

Chikage: … That.

Tsumugi: Huh?

Chikage: When you think about it, it’s a disturbing little rhyme.

Tsumugi: I think it just goes to show how serious of a crime lying is.

Chikage: … I see.

Tsumugi: But I think there are times when lying is necessary.

Chikage: ——

Tsumugi: But now that you mention it, sticking a needle in your eye does sound scary.

Tsumugi: So… if you’re lying, I’ll have you drink 100 drinks.

Chikage: … That sounds quite scary too, though.

Tsumugi: But you don’t seem like the type to get drunk even after you drink 100 drinks.

Chikage: I’m curious now. Want me to give it a try?

Tsumugi: If we have the chance to, by all means.

[Flashback ends]

Tsumugi: I had a pretty rough time the next day, but you seemed fine.

Chikage: I don’t think it affected me in any particular way.

Tsumugi: Even though you drank so much…

Chikage: Okay, let’s leave the reminiscing for another time.

Chikage: … Happy birthday. Here’s my gift.

Tsumugi: Woah… Is this a mystery solving game?

Chikage: Yeah. In the end, we never went to an escape room.

Chikage: I thought about getting tickets so we’d go to one together… But I figured the game would be simpler.

Chikage: You can play it with the other members, too.

Tsumugi: Thank you so much. … And it’s circus themed. It reminds me of the event we held at the abandoned amusement park.

Chikage: You said you had fond memories of that park.

Tsumugi: You remember that? You really are kind after all, Chikage-san.

Tsumugi: But, while playing this with everyone else sounds nice… I want to solve it with you first.

Tsumugi: Oh, and you have to take me to an escape room. You promised.

Chikage: … I just can’t win with you, can I? Alright.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

[da-young-bizzyboy]

[warning: fake bizzyboys friends who left you with their child(and now this child is your child)]

When you finally got perfect moment for a talk and for asking lots of da questions

...

"Uncwe Patty, why sky is blue?"

Patty:"Birdies like this color"

"Uncwe Patty, why da weaws awe gween?"

Patty:"Nature wanted make so...Any more questions, Mimin?"

"Yeah"

Patty:"Go ahead"

"Uncwe Patty..."

"Do yew know my pawents?"

Patty:"...Um..."

Patty:"W-why do you ask, sweetie?"

"Yew nevah tell me about dem. I don even know dem. I'm weally cuwious about who gave me life"

Patty:"But–"

"No need to lie dat yew found me in lettuce. I aweady know whewe da babies come fwom"

Patty:"Oh...W-well...Y'know, Mimin...to be honest...I don't know how they are now, but...I remember how they were when they were bizzyboys like us"

"Weally? Dey wewe da bizzyboys? Cool! But wait, do dey awe not da bizzyboys anymowe?"

Patty:"Yeah, they're not bizzyboys anymore. They said to me that they didn't want to continue their life as bizzyboys and they just left us"

"But why I'm still hewe? Am I wasn't supposed to be wif dem? Ow dey left us befowe I was bown?"

Patty:"...Well...that was... another story, dear...very another...like about they weren't supposed to do something...horrible"

[Now some memories about that moment. The day when Mimin's parents left the bizzyboys base and never come back...Mimin was just a baby, who was still learning how to walk]

Patty:"Guys, what the hell!? You didn't even alert us about and-...w-where are Mimin's things?"

???♀️:Well, Patty, if you alredy found out that we're gonna leave tonight, you should know the reason"

???♂️:That little thing is not coming with us. We're gonna leave her there"

Patty:"What!? Guys, are you serious!? She is your daughter!"

???♂️:"And she's useless!"

Patty:"She's a baby! How she can be already useless!? You can't just leave her alone there like a stuff!"

???♀️:"Listen, Patty, we already were about to kill that creature for all annoying crying what we got from her"

Patty:"Hold a minute. The first, she is a damn baby. The second, crying is fully okay for a baby. And the third, she's not a creature"

???♂️:"Then what is it if it's not a damn nasty useless creature?"

Patty:"Guys! She's a child! She's YOUR child! Why you–"

???♀️:"Oh please, she's nothing to us"

???♂️:"Her papers and other stuffs here in base. She has a name and that's last thing what we'll give her. Now, we're leaving"

Patty:"No! You two! Don't you dare"

???♀️:"That thing is your deal now. Bye!"

???♂️:"Bye...ex friend..."

Patty:"Wait, stop! You can't just left Mimin here! You can't!"

.

.

.

.

.

"Uncwe Patty?... Uncwe Patty...UNCWE PATTY!"

Patty:"Ah!... W-what?"

"It wooks wike yew was out of da wowd fow a second"

Patty:"...Oh...y-yeah, that's right. Anyways, you have any more questions?"

"Onwy one"

Patty:"What's it?"

"...Uncwe Patty..."

"Why do we die?"

Patty:"... Um"