#I don’t mean this in a ‘what about us’ way just thinking like. When the dust settles what are people gonna do? Just go back to their lives

[thebibliosphere]

I’ve had an increase in rainbow aura with my migraines lately (I used to get them once a year, if that. Now, I’ve had it twice in one month) so I’ve become somewhat paranoid whenever something flashes over my vision.

Sometimes, it's just light reflecting off my phone, but it still makes me freeze up in a fear response when it happens because it usually means I’ve got about 20 minutes before I’m in agony.

Apparently, this new paranoia extends into my dreams now, too, because I was running down a long corridor, aware that there was something behind me that I needed to escape, but all of a sudden, in my dream, rainbow zigzags consumed my vision, and I stopped, dead and went, “fuck, migraine.”

That's when I became aware of James Bond/Daniel Craig standing beside me, gun drawn.

“Oh, shit. Do you need to lie down?” he asked while I stared at him.

I said, “What about the thing chasing us?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, darling. If you need to lie down you can lie down. I’ll just kill them.”

I blinked at him for a bit, still winded from running then said, “Sure,” starting to get to my knees, ready to lie down on the cold stone floor beneath us.

“Sure?”

“Yeah. Kill ‘em. I’m just gonna...” I gestured vaguely at the floor. “Be right here, I guess.”

“You can go upstairs, you know,” he said, loading a fresh clip into his gun. “This museum has a hotel on top of it.”

“Oh good,” I said, starting to suspect this was a dream and not Daniel Craig about to murder the people chasing me because I had a migraine. “I’ll do that then.”

So I got back up and started climbing the stairs that looked an awful lot like the stairs in the Kelvin Grove Art Gallery, only to abruptly walk into Deathstroke and Nightwing doing their best to kill each other in the corridor of what was clearly a hotel based on the room service tray Nightwing was using to deflect projectiles.

They froze. I looked at them. They looked at me. “I’ve got a migraine,” I said,

“Shit, sorry,” Nightwing said, putting down his tray as both men stepped back to let me walk down the decimated corridor. “We’ll be more quiet.”

“Room 13 is open,” Deathstroke helpfully informed me.

“Is there a body in it?” I asked, now leaning against the wall, less walking along, more sliding.

“Not anymore.”

“Do you need anything?” Nightwing asked, “pain killers? Ice pack?”

I waved them off and made my way into room 13 where David Jason dressed as Detective Jack Frost looked up at me from the book he was reading on the bed.

“This is a dream,” he informed me.

“No it isn’t,” I said, despite knowing it was as I hobbled over to the bed and flopped down beside him. “And this room was supposed to be empty.”

“Open, not empty,” corrected Jack Banon who had taken David Frost’s place, dressed like young Alfie from Pennyworth as he sat beside me on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. “There’s a very distinct difference between the two. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Who do you think moved the body?”

“I need to sleep,” I said, “if I can fall asleep, the migraine might go away.”

“That's all right,” he said. “You do that. I’ll make sure no one else comes in. Oh, just one thing before you do.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out something I couldn't quite see and held it out to me. “You’ll need this.”

“What is it?” I said, my brain doing the dream thing where it refuses to read books or interpret numbers correctly. “I can’t see, what is it?”

“Oft, sorry. Can’t tell you that. More than my job’s worth.”

“You’re job...”

“Yeah.” and thats when he leaned over, stuck me with a needle and said, “Night night.”

And I woke up to the sound of @mothman-etd getting into the shower and Holly Mop wiggling under thre covers with me.

First words out of my mouth were, “What the fuck?”

And then I immediately pulled up Tumblr to write this down before I forget it because what the fuck.

Didn't wake up with a migraine though so... *knock on wood*

[littlelamy]

you were right!

a/n: okay, i know you guys might be tired of me doing these but this is my last one! i hope you all like it 😜 gifs from @rafeyscurtainbangs

The blazing Moroccan sun beats down on Rafe, its intensity mirrored by the firestorm raging in his mind. Dust hangs in the air around him, adding to the harshness of the moment as he stands over the well. Below, Groff coughs and groans, his face contorted in pain, but Rafe barely spares him a second glance. His rage overpowers everything else, even the satisfaction he should feel. He narrows his eyes, voice laced with anger and finality.

“Checkmate, bitch!” he yells down, his words slicing through the hot, tense air. The motorcycle engine he’d used to get out here sits idle a few feet away, rumbling like his frustration.

He turns on his heel, muttering a curse, fists clenched. As he stalks away from the well, he pulls out his phone and dials Sofia’s number, his chest tight with the realization that everything he thought he knew was a lie.

Sofia answers after two rings, her voice as casual as if he hadn’t just found out about her betrayal. “Hey, babe, what’s up ?”

Rafe’s voice is steely, cold. “Is it true? Is it true, what Groff just told me? Is it?”

The silence on her end is all he needs. He can practically hear her scrambling for words, but she never manages to answer. His face twists in anger.

“Pack your shit. Get out of my house,” he snarls, a final, unforgiving edge in his voice. “God, after everything I did for you? We’re done. Done.” He hangs up before she can say another word, shoving his phone back into his pocket with a bitter scoff. Betrayed, twice over—and he’d ignored the only person who saw it coming.

He stands there, baking in the Moroccan heat, his mind racing back to a month ago in Kildare, when you and he had argued over Sofia. You’d warned him that she wasn’t who she seemed. He’d brushed you off, accusing you of jealousy—knowing damn well that there was more to it. You were his best friend, but it was complicated; that line had already been crossed too many times, with late-night kisses and tangled sheets. But you two hadn’t spoken since that fight, since the way he’d brushed you off had hurt deeper than either of you cared to admit.

Taking a breath, he pulls out his phone again, fingers hovering over your name. He hesitates, swallowing his pride, before finally pressing call.

The phone rings, and you pick up after a few moments, your voice tight with annoyance. “What, Rafe?”

Your tone makes him pause, but the way you sound almost comforts him, even with the irritation clear in your voice. You’re there—back in Kildare, probably sitting cozy in your little apartment. Meanwhile, he’s out here under the scorching sun, alone, trying to piece together his pride.

He clears his throat. “Hey… princess,” he says, voice softened, the pet name slipping out before he can stop it. He can almost feel you rolling your eyes on the other end, but he presses on, the words weighing heavy on him. “I—uh… Look, I’m sorry. You were right.”

There’s a surprised pause, and he hears you shift in your seat as if you’re debating whether to hang up or let him speak. When you do answer, your tone is a bit softer, cautious.

“What happened?”

Rafe lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “Turns out Sofia was exactly who you said she was. A snake. And here I was, thinking you were just being… petty. But I guess I’m the idiot, huh?”

You breathe out, and he can picture you shaking your head, lips pressed together. “You wouldn’t listen,” you say quietly, as if the words hold more hurt than anger.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, the frustration evident in his voice. “I know. I was so damn sure you were just jealous. I mean—” He pauses, grappling with how to say it. “Hell, I thought you were jealous because you… I don’t know. I thought you didn’t want me with her because we…” His voice trails off, but the implication lingers between you.

“Yeah,” you say softly, almost to yourself. “I get it.”

Rafe bites his lip, letting the words sink in. “Can I see you? I’m done here in a few days, and I could be back in Kildare very soon. I could stop by, explain… properly.”

A beat passes, and when you finally speak, it’s careful, guarded. “After everything you said last time, why should I?”

He laughs softly, almost self-deprecating. “Because I think you might be the only person I can trust right now. And… I miss you.” His voice drops, laced with a warmth he can’t help. “Even if you’re just going to gloat and rub it in my face.”

You chuckle, and he smiles, savoring the sound. “I don’t know if I miss you or if I just feel sorry for you,” you tease, but the playfulness is back in your tone, if only faintly.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, amusement lacing his words. “Act like you don’t care. But come on, you miss me. Admit it.”

A small silence follows, and he imagines the way your lips twitch into a smile. Finally, you relent. “Maybe a little. But you’re bringing wine. Good wine.”

“Oh, don’t worry, baby,” he says, the flirtation back in his voice. “Only the best for you.”

You scoff, but he hears the hint of a laugh. It’s the closest thing he’s had to a good moment in a long time. He takes a breath, savoring the thought of leaving this mess behind and getting back to Kildare—back to the only person who knew him well enough to call him out, and care anyway. As the call ends, he puts his phone in his pocket, a grin spreading across his face, motivating him to get that crown and go to his princess.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif

[andhumanslovedstories]

An intro to doing crosswords for complete beginners

as told by someone who didn’t do any before this year and now has gotten so deeply into them

with examples pulled almost entirely from crosswords published in American publications this week

A crossword is not a measure of general knowledge or intelligence or skill with words anymore than a Mario game is a measure of how good you are at plumbing. It certainly helps to have the same cultural reference points as the puzzle, but you can brute force your way through a lot of it if you just know how crosswords work

Easiest on Mondays and then get harder over the week

The answer is in the same verb tense as the clue (ex. “doesn’t float” is “SINKS” while “didn’t float” is “SANK”)

If there’s an acronym or abbreviation in the clue, the answer will have one as well (ex. “Toothpaste-approving org.” is “ADA” because that the short way of referring to the American Dental Association)

If the answer is in written like a text from a teen girl with her first flip phone, the answer will be a common texting abbreviation (TMI, OMG, LOL, LMAO, BRB, TTYL, etc) (ex. three letter word with clue “i can’t believe u told me that” is “TMI”)

If the clue is in quotes, it’s dialogue and the response should also be dialogue (ex. the clue “‘That’s it for me!’” is “IQUIT”)

An answer can be multiple words, (see above) so some correct answers can make you second guess yourself because it creates letter combos that seem impossible to be in one English (mostly) word or mess you up bc it’s ambiguous where one word ends and another begins (ex. you have the letters “OWFO” and the answer ends up being “PILLOWFORT” or “UDAT” being “BERMUDATRIANGLE”)

Treat clues with a question mark like they’re going to be puns that make you groan so think about other meanings of the words in the clue (ex. “Volumes you can hear?” is “AUDIOBOOKS” or “Not fancy at all?” is “HATE” or “Remained under cover?” is “SLEPTIN”)

Clues that add hedging language line “they could be called…” or one might use this as…” are telling you to think very laterally. These are the ones that make you a little mad when you get them (ex. “They might be said to be dancing or raging” is “FLAMES” or “They admit they might be punched” is “TICKETS”)

The word “maybe” usually indicates the answer will be an example of the clue, not a synonym (ex. “Pet, maybe” is “CAT”)

If a person is in the clue and a person is the answer, the answer will be from the same part of name as the clue (ex. Trevor Noah replaced John Stewart on the Daily Show. So the clue “Stewart’s successor on the Daily Show” is “NOAH” while “John’s successor on the Daily Show” would be “TREVOR”

No word in the clue will be featured in the answer (ex. “What Beyoncé Knowles goes by” could be “ONENAME” but could never be “BEYONCÉ”)

A answer can be a phonetic spelling of a letter (ex. “Epic finale?” is “CEE”)

Not every clue is going to be tricky and clever, don’t rule out an obvious choice just because it’s obvious (ex. “Do ___ disturb” is “NOT”)

Roman numerals pop up a lot but typically only in clues where a Roman numeral makes sense, so “finale of a play?” could be “ACTII” but “Number of Stooges” is not going to be “III”

There’s a ton of really common clues. If you do enough crossword puzzles you recognize them. (ex. Literally almost anything about oil is going to be OPEC, any variations on “things on a smartphone that someone can download and use” is going to be “APPS”, and anything about a european capital city is probably “OSLO”)

If a clue can be about a cookie, the answer is almost certainly “OREO”

[theminecraftbee]

Cleo sits next to Scott, her head in her hands, and says—

—“I really thought it’d be different this time.” BigB sighs. He kicks his foot. Ren is, at least, a sympathetic ear. He understands these things, or at least he understands that it’s hard to be alone. “I mean, I know you don’t trust those guys…”

“I don’t,” agrees Ren.

“But they reached out, man. And I thought, well,”—

—“I could always bury the hatchet, you know?” Cleo says. “It’s been what, how many games? How many years? And I can recognize when I’m as much of the problem as someone else.”

“You had a reason to be a problem. I love that you’re a problem,” Scott says supportively. Pearl snorts in the corner.

“I’m good at being a problem!” Cleo says

“I know, you are,” Scott agrees.

“But it’s like—I don’t know. Maybe I was ready to be done being angry! Maybe I…”—

—“…just wanted a change.”

BigB is quiet. He lets the thought sit in the air. Ren, normally a man determined to fill silences, at least understands the value of a dramatic pause; he doesn’t say anything yet.

Martyn, however, has grown a bit more impatient over the sessions. "What kind of change? You two have been weird about each other for years."

BigB is quiet a moment more. "Did you know that—Ren, did you know that you were the first and last person to show me trust?"

"Uh, thank you, dude," Ren says.

"But like, the thing is, people, they stabbed us then, man. And it's just..."—

—"...he didn't have to! That's what gets me! He could have like... said anything to me? I don't ask much! I offered him my hand! I said, sure man. I'm gonna forgive you, just this once. We can try again. And he just—he tried to kill you! Why?"

"I mean, Scott is one of the people with the most lives," Impulse says reasonably. "And he didn't betray you."

"That's not how teams work, Impulse," Cleo says. "You can't just get rid of the teammate you don't like. The team is only as strong..."—

—"...as weak as it's component parts."

Ren and Martyn stare.

"Jesus, BigB," Martyn says.

BigB looks away. "Yeah, um, well. I don't think that's that stupid. It's not about you two, really. And this is a death game, right? I didn't attack her. It's just... I wasn't going to, really. I wasn't..."—

—"...he was going to, that's the thing. He's always going to do... this!"

"Maybe that's what you get for reaching out to a traitor," Scott says lightly.

Impulse looks away. Pearl snorts again. Cleo sighs.

"Look, I have a long memory, but if I let that decide everything I do forever it would eat me. And people have their reasons. Impulse, look Scott in the eyes, he's not even the reason you have that reputation. Pearl, you're a part of the team. That's the thing. People can change. People..."—

—"...can't change, really." BigB shrugs. "She should know better by now."

"Uh, dude, should we know better?" Ren asks.

"Nah. I mean, Martyn's worse than I am," BigB says cheerfully.

"Martyn," Ren says, sounding vaguely disappointed. Martyn crosses his arms.

"What? You're the one who said I had evil in me. If you take in a snake, you can't be mad if it bites you. If you take in a scorpion..."—

—"...you can hope it learns not to sting you. I don't know. Maybe it's just in his nature."

Pearl makes a strange noise. "And what's in my nature?"

Cleo sighs. She steps over and throws an arm around Pearl's shoulder.

"As long as you don't bite me? I'm willing to learn." Pearl leans into Cleo's arm slightly. Cleo can't help but wonder, some days, how much of the way she flinches back again is her fault. BigB isn't the only one that Cleo hopes can change his nature. Otherwise...

"I'm not actually a traitor, despite what everyone claims," Impulse says, apropos of nothing.

"You know, you should pick better friends," Scott says.

"Nah," Cleo says. She doesn't elaborate. She just—

—breathes. BigB just breathes.

"It was never going to work, anyway," he says.

"Sometimes I wonder if everyone broke while I wasn't looking," Ren says quietly, sadly. BigB has no answer for that.

[misctf]

Me and my buddy get along well but I don’t have a father and for some reason I feel like I look up to him. He’s a brunette hockey player who really cares about his body and tracks all of his cals. Any way you could spike one of his beers and give me the best exjock dad ever?

“Let’s go!” Your bro throws down his game controller and looks over at you. His confident smile adorning his handsome, angular face, “I used that same move on the ice the other day.” His clear excitement is infectious and you can’t help but smile.

It was another one of your usual game nights with your bro. The two of you sitting on the couch, controllers in hand, playing some hockey videogame. And even though he always seemed to win, you just enjoy the moment. Your friendship started out when you were younger- the two of you meeting in grade school. And as the years went on, you grew closer. You’d go to his hockey games and cheer him on. He’d fill in as that male role model you needed. When you went to college, he’d continue playing hockey, while you focused on your studies. But you continued to enjoy each other’s company. But this was your last year, and he planned to move across the country. The very thought was painful. Losing him would be tough.

“Hey, you good?” He asks, “I told you I wasn’t going easy.”

You smile, “I was wondering,” You begin, “I know you don’t like beer...”

“Gotta keep these toned.” He says, running a hand down his exposed abs.

“But it’s bro night.” You continue, “I got some special beers for us.”

He seems to consider the offer. Part of him looking a bit apprehensive. After all, he spent much of his time focusing on maintaining his body. His lean muscles and thicc hockey butt were all products of his careful diet and dedicated workouts. But he could tell it would mean a lot to you. He nods slowly.

“One won’t hurt.” He says with a grin, “Cheers to another game night.”

Part of you feels relieved. Another part of you feels somewhat apprehensive. If the man you bought this beer from was telling you the truth... well, you didn’t know what to think. It was probably some prank anyway, and you probably wasted the money. You hand him a solo cup with the beer in it.

“To bro night.” He smiles and takes a sip of the beer, “You know, I’m gonna miss this.” You feel a pang of sadness in your chest, “But we’ll always be bros.”

You nod, taking in his words. Feeling a sense of impending loss. Wishing you could just enjoy these moments forever.

“I’m gonna miss this too... dad.”

He looks over at you and raises an eyebrow, “What did you just call me?” He chuckles.

And you can see it. A few hairs starting to emerge from his once clean-shaven face. A few greys appearing in his brunette locks. Was it true? Was this stuff really going to do what the man said it would?

“Nothing, dad.”

And as the words leave your lips, your buddy groans. His youthful skin starts to lose its glow. A few wrinkles appear on his forehead. And the hair on his face sprouts into a full beard. His hands rush to scratch his new facial hair and his eyes widen.

“Bro, what the hell...” He whispers, “Something’s wrong...”

“What do you mean, dad?”

You watch as his brunette locks begin to recede and his tan vanishes. All the while, small, itchy hairs start to sprout from your buddy’s chest and abs. At this point, he stands up and runs his hands down his new body hair. There’s a look of disgust and confusion on his face, and you can’t help but feel bad for him. After all, he did pride his clean-shaven look.

“You keep calling me dad.” He says, staring at you, “And now...” He catches a glimpse of his receding hairline and aged skin in the mirror, “Bro, please. Whatever you’re doing, you gotta fuckin’ stop.”

You could tell he was getting angry. But you were still marveling over the effects of this drink. You couldn’t believe it was actually working.

“Bro, are you even listening to me?” He says, “Please! You can’t...”

“Sorry dad.” You reply, putting even more emphasis on “dad.”

The effects are more dramatic. Your buddy lets out a pained moan and falls to his knees, gripping his abs. You can see tears fall from his eyes as he realizes his firm abs are feeling softer. And in only a few moments, his abs are covered by a thick layer of fat. And another. And another. And although your buddy is too busy squeezing his new flabby stomach, you can see his pecs fill with fat and sag, resting atop his new gut.

“This can’t be...” He winces at his new, gravelly voice, “Oh god, I sound so old.” He looks up at you, tears still staining his eyes, “Dude, come on... please... I can’t be this.”

A part of you feels bad, even guilty. Your friend’s anger replaced by fear. His confidence shattered. His toned physique truly replaced by that of a middle-aged dad. Part of you wants to reverse this. But you don’t even know how.

“I...” You bite your lip, “Look, I don’t even know if I can undo this, dad.”

Your buddy shuts his eyes and shakes as the short hairs erupt into longer follicles. You watch as a forest of hairs emerge from under his shorts and travel down his legs. His new gut and soft chest are covered in a forest of gray and dark hairs. And you realize now there’s nothing left of your old buddy, at least physically. His receding hairline, gray hairs, gut, and hirsute form all scream middle-aged dad. He slowly stands up, wincing at a pain in his lower back and knees, as he becomes more familiar with his new age.

“Dude...” He whispers, “What did you do?” You can hear the anger return to his voice.

“I didn’t want to lose you, bro.” You say, “And I’ve always looked up to you. And truthfully, I’ve always wanted a dad and the beer promised it could do that. Just as long as I called whoever drank it dad.” Your friend looks shocked and picks up the solo cup.

“Good one dude.” He laughs, “Okay, okay you got me. Maybe if I drink the beer and you call me bro or something, I can return to normal.” He says hopefully, “I promise we can forget all about this.” The desperation starts to creep back into his voice, “Just... please I don’t want this.” He begs.

You’re not a bad person. You even feel a bit guilty. And part of you even wants to do as he suggests. But another thought enters your head. Would he be able to forget all about this? Would he forgive you? You bite your lip and sigh.

“I’m sorry,” You can see his eyes widen in terror, “Dad.”

He drops the beer in his hand, causing the beer inside to spray everywhere. His eyes glaze over and his jaw goes slack. A part of you worries for a moment, but slowly he smiles. There’s no evidence of concern on his face.

“Ah sorry, I spaced out there for a second.” He chuckles, “Looks like I made a mess.” He goes to bend over to pick up the cup, but winces, “Damn back’s been acting up.”

“Don’t worry dad.” You say as he sits back down on the couch, “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m good, I’m good.” He reassures, “Come on, we have to finish our game.” He says with a grin, grabbing the game controller, “You know, I was quite the hockey player back in my day. Well before this.” He chuckles, patting his beer gut.

“I know.” You reply, sitting next to him, “You tell me all the time.” The two of you start to play, and you immediately notice his videogame skills are not where they used to be. But you’re enjoying this moment- going on as if nothing changed.

“Look at that!” He cheers when he scores a goal, “I told you not to take it easy on me, son.”

You go to reply but you feel a warmth coarse through your body. You quickly shake your head and return to the game. And only a few minutes later, he scores another goal.

“You doing okay there, son?” He asks.

And again, you feel a warmth coarse through your body. You look down at the controller and can’t help but notice that your forearms look a bit thicker- your hands meatier. You shake your head and look up at your dad.

“Uh, I’m good dad.” Your voice even sounds deeper- somewhat dumb too, “I-I gotta go to my room.”

You stumble towards your room, feeling somewhat off balance. Entering your room, you’re immediately hit by the smell of intense BO. The same way your bro would smell after a hockey game. There’s gear on your bed and random posters of hockey players on your walls. You barely have time to comprehend what’s going on, when you hear your dad’s voice.

“Hey son, are you okay?”

You groan as your muscles begin to contract violently and your shirt tears from your growing musculature. You can see yourself in the mirror- abs, thicc ass, and lean muscles- the body of a hockey player. And you realize that you’re becoming your dad’s ideal son. Somehow, the beer that splashed on you had the same effects as drinking it.

“Wait dad!” You call out, wincing at the oafish jock-like tone that saturates your words, “Please...!”

“Son?” He asks opening the door.

And your eyes glaze over. Your jaw goes slack. And you feel your mind warping and changing. Any memories you had of your old life or self are being forced into the very back of your mind- all to make room for your new existence as a smelly, ripped, hockey jock. Your dad’s perfect son.

“God it reeks in here.” Your dad laughs, patting you on the back, “Must be workin’ hard out there.”

“You fuckin’ know it.” You reply, eyes dull, “It’s gonna be a good game tomorrow, pops.”

“You learned from the best, champ.” He smiles, “Now come on, we got a game to finish.” You smile, “I want to show you one of my favorite moves. Worked every time. Maybe you can try it out on the ice tomorrow.”

“For sure, pops.”

You follow your dad back to the couch. The two of you playing videogames late into the night, filling the air with boisterous cheers as you played. You couldn’t have asked for a better dad. And he couldn’t have asked for a better son.

[wonderjanga]

Warfare

You see, Marvel’s mentioned the Wisdom of Solomon before. The JL never really thought much about it. As a result, the JL just thinks Marvel has all these… interesting ideas but just never says anything about them. Though, there are a couple times the ideas are actually voiced. (They don’t know Billy is just parroting whatever Solomon or occasionally another God with tell him)

Like the time Batman and Marvel got stranded on a planet that was stuck in the middle of war. They were promised

Rebel Leader: “Do either of you have any ideas to bring to the table?”

Batman: “No. Marvel?”

Marvel: “Huh? Oh uh… well I could magic a plague into the water near them. You said they’re using it for their water source, right? Then, when they’re weak, we can go around and take them out.” *sounds hesitant*

Batman: “Hmm… That could be a good idea, but what sort of plague are we talking about?”

Marvel: “Cholera.”

Batman: “What.”

Marvel: “Cholera.”

Batman: “Marvel, that’s fatal.”

Marvel: “Oh.”

Batman: “Yeah.”

*silence*

Marvel: “Well, if we’re quick, it we can get to them before they die.”

Batman: *stares for a bit, holding back a sigh* “We don’t even know if Cholera will affect their biology the same way it does humans.”

Rebel Leader: “What is this Cholera?”

Batman: “It’s a deadly waterborne disease.”

Rebel Leader: “I see… And you’re unsure whether it will work with our physiology… might I propose a different disease?”

So yes, biological warfare, that’s our first thing. Batman proceeded to spend a lot of time convincing the Rebel Leader not to nearly kill an entire group of people with their version of Cholera.

Then there was the time Bruce and Marvel were working together and got held up in a shootout at a lab.

Marvel: *looking at the various chemicals in the lab* “Gosh, I remember my first exposure to chlorine gas.” *getting nostalgic* (He’s from the 1940s in this one, guys)

Batman: “You’ve been exposed to chlorine gas?”

Marvel: “Yeah, and let me tell you, those dang Nazis were horrified when it didn’t work on me. Don’t worry though, we’re gonna be making mustard gas instead.”

Batman: “Captain, we are not doing that.”

Marvel: “Why? We have all the available ingredients.”

Batman: “Marvel.” *puts a hand on his shoulder* “Mustard gas can be fatal.”

Marvel: “Oh.”

Batman: “Yeah.”

*silence*

Marvel: “My bad.”

*more silence*

Batman: “Is this why you always let others plan?”

Marvel: “Are you gonna look at me weird if I say yes?”

Batman: “Hn.” (Translation: Yes, but it won’t be visible through my cowl)

This incident checks chemical warfare off the list. Bruce is now concerned as to why most of Marvel’s ideas are either nearly fatal or just fatal.

Then there was the time Marvel went undercover with Bruce Wayne, not Batman for whatever reason. They then got attacked by pirates while on a ship trying to gather information about some supervillain.

Bruce and Marvel: *taken cover under a table while the pirates fire cannon balls at them*

Bruce: “Any ideas?” *peaks over the cover only for a cannonball to whiz right past his head*

Marvel: “I think I have one. So here’s what I’m thinking. I take out their mast, steal all their oars, and then push them out to sea and let them drift wherever.

Bruce: “That’s… Intense. Wouldn’t they starve if you just let them drift?”

Marvel: “I guess. If they’re not saved, I mean.”

Bruce: *stares with the most deadpan face* “How about I come up with a plan instead?”

Marvel: “You got it boss.”

And last but not least, the physical warfare.

By the way, Billy doesn’t know Bruce is the Bat. No, no, no, he just thinks the guy is someone Batman wants him to work with. He was a little surprised to see the dude act all brooding like Mr. Batman when he had heard from others that he was a party boy. Oh well, not his business. Meanwhile, Bruce doesn’t know Marvel thinks he’s just interacting with a capable civilian.

That last part was inspired by @helps-the-writing-brain-go’s reblog of this post. Thanks for letting me write with your idea :)

[wifes-xxx]

There have been moments, especially when we open our hearts to a husband , where you have felt a distance between you. I know It's as if the door to your heart opens just halfway, holding back parts of you out of fear, caution, or maybe something you now can't quite understand. It struck you deeply like a slap, and you couldn't help but fee this realisation, it sounds like you are being self centred "I can't believe you would be someone so selfish. That you cant give yourself over completely to your relationship. What a dried up and broken woman you have become"

The beauty of exploring love languages and embracing our vulnerabilities lies in their reflection of real-life relationships. These concepts encourage us to examine our own connections, fostering a deeper understanding and appreciation for the complexities of love. It's an invitation to reflect on how we communicate affection and how we can better align with our loved ones, paving the way for more fulfilling relationships

Have you noticed sometimes when you do want it from a your guy , it almost feels like you’re invisible to him?

Are you nodding along?

Has this happened to you?

You already know you’re smitten. With your husband, only…you’re not bold and slutty, so you don’t feel comfortable just walking over and dropping to your knees and unzipping his pants and pulling it out, or telling him that you’re horny and need fucking… now!

So what can you do because you know it’s insulting to him for you to be a boring prude?

It’s fairly easy to get attention, but that doesn’t in any way guarantee that he will want to fuck you. Just something to be aware of. Once you have his attention, you’ll want to really notice what his reaction to you is. Does he smile while listening to every word, or is he busier checking his phone than talking to you? The sharper your observation skills, the less time you waste on knowing how to please him.

Grow up…you’re acting like you’re in middle school. You’re not. There are better, high-value ways to get his attention. Be his wife, his woman and his lover. Show him what you have and let him enjoy you.

Never be boring or distant.

Instead make yourself interesting and be interested in him and his desires. Learn what makes him hard.

Think of each moment like the dating game, you may be insecure about flirting or expressing your interest. It will take practice, but you’ve got this! Show some sexual aggression and really let him know what you have in mind. Use your brain. Or play open docile and ditzy. If it makes him hard and your feeling horny and wet, know in your heart its working for you. Remember that.

Be his good girl a figure out what turns him on and makes him hard, and interested. Usually, within a few minutes of conversation and , you can deduce this. Obviously, look for a bulge, but also keep an eye out for signs of breast gaze and lip gazing what part of your body is he focused upon! Display yourself with abandon like the women these men look at on Tumblr. They are interested atvtmhem for a reason. Forgot you self and think about why men masturbate to these kind of women pictures.

Let it change you prudish self.

Keep the conversation going once you have his attention, and make it clear that you’re not just being normal friendly (you’re being flirty friendly!). Use your language in and out of the bedroom to keep him engaged.

“You make me so wet”

“Never Stop”

“That feels amazing”

“Does that feel good?”

“I can feel your dick throbbing”

“I want you here right now”

“I want You so bad”

“I was thinking about you today”

“ oh fuck me, Just Like That”

“You make me want to scream”

“Fill me up”

” I'm curious honey what porn makes you. Hard“

“Fuck me like you mean it”

“Harder”

“I feel tiny in your arms”

“I love you”

“I love your dick”

“I want your cum”

“Kiss Me”

“Make me cum baby”

“Seeing you right after a workout”

“Taste Me”

“Your cock is stretching me out”

“I'm not wearing my panties today“

Feel free to share you favourites with me.

Oh God, this felt amazingly good to write. I am sooo ready for him.

S_XXX

[derealizationns]

"intimacy"

characters - katsuki bakugou x fem reader

synopsis - katsuki’s tough facade crumbles as soon as you two are together, and he loves every second of it.

genre - fluff!!! so much fluff 🥹

warnings - none 🫧

katsuki loves intimacy. he definitely won’t show it, but he’s all for it. that boy is so used to being tough and everything, that it makes him crave those tender and gentle moments.

just imagine simple things like making dinner. the world seems silent, the only things you can hear are the shuffles of yours and katsuki’s slippers and the raindrops hitting the roof of your shared home. bakugou is chopping food on the counter, with you sitting beside him on top of the island, swinging your legs and just observing his movements.

your presence brings him so much comfort, though you aren’t even doing anything special. just the feeling of domesticity makes katsuki experience some weird warm sensation in his chest. he subconsciously smiles at that. it’s a faint smirk, but you still notice it.

after jumping off the countertop, you wrap your arms around his chest and place your head on his muscular back. he huffs with fake annoyance, but in reality, this gesture makes him incredibly happy.

“whatcha doin’, idiot?” he asks.

you roll your eyes at his question.

“i’m showing love to my incredibly strong boyfriend, don’t pretend that you don’t like it.”

at that moment, katsuki shuts up. he can’t lie to your pretty face, that would be cruel, so he just decides to remain silently enjoying your presence and warmth.

some other day, you are lying under the covers with your boyfriend. it’s saturday afternoon, meaning that you two have a day off, just for yourselves. bakugo decided that both of you should watch a movie that just came out, but truth be told, he didn’t even pay attention to it. the boy is simply staring blankly at the tv, visibly deep in thought. you quickly notice his weird behavior and decide to bring it up.

“kats?” you start.

his attention quickly switches to you, bright red eyes staring into yours curiously.

“what’s wrong?” the question falls from your lips.

his expression changes to one of slight shock. perhaps bakugou didn’t realize that he was visibly zoning out, or maybe he just didn’t expect you to mention it. after a few seconds of silence, bakugo finally speaks up.

“nothin’ is wrong, why you askin’?”

you sigh at his words. he is clearly hiding something from you. just when you wanted to scold him for his obvious lie, he speaks again.

“just thinkin’… ’bout how much i love you, i guess…” he starts, but he’s not looking at you anymore; his eyes are fixed on the ceiling. bakugo feels so embarrassed after he says this. the boy silently curses himself for speaking up.

you look at him confused but can’t deny the warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest. katsuki wasn’t the one to express his love so directly, and that took you aback.

“every memory i have with you makes me feel… weird. like, not bad weird, just… puzzled, i guess? i’ve never felt that way, so it’s hard to exp—” you cut off his rambling before he finishes.

“i know what you mean, kats. every moment, even the simplest and most boring one, stirs up something within you, am i right?”

your boyfriend sends you a shocked look. he didn’t expect you to read his emotions so well. you just said everything right! how is that possible? did you read his mind or something? or maybe… it was because those were the same feelings you have…?

“yeah… i think you’re right…” he mumbles, visibly embarrassed by this conversation, so you think it’s time to cut it off.

“but it’s a good feeling, right? like you’re not… overwhelmed?” you ask him worriedly.

katsuki shoots you a look that you think was supposed to be scolding.

“what? no, you idiot. it’s… it’s good, i like it.”

you smile at his words and tuck yourself closer to him, bathing in his warmth.

“that’s good…” you whisper and feel yourself slowly doze off, as bakugou leaves a soft kiss on your forehead.

you sleep soundly, dreaming about every soft and domestic moment you had with katsuki. and there were many more to come.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ kirara’s notes . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

thank you for reading this, hope you liked it! likes, follows and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🤍🫧

[theuniverseisscreaming]

Eddie as an Unreliable Narrator

I want to expand a little on something I talked about over on twitter, which is the concept of Eddie as an unreliable narrator and how this has kept him from confronting his sexuality.

Before the inevitable “Eddie said he was heterosexual, he’s a straight man,” in the comments, I’ll just say that we already know gay Eddie has been a consideration from LFJR confirming it was originally going to be Tommy and Eddie together, never mind all the queer coding to date in Eddie’s general storyline. If you choose to take Eddie’s words at face value, that’s fine, you do you! This post will get into why I don’t. 

Eddie tells Father Brian that he doesn’t believe that he deserves to be forgiven, so when he sees him again, he recognizes Eddie’s decision to pick the healthier, less fun beverage for what it is: Eddie depriving himself of one of the small joys there are to be found in life. He confronts him on this, asking why he changed his mind, and Eddie looks genuinely perplexed. “…decided I wanted water?” 

“See, I think that you were punishing yourself. I think that you were denying yourself because you don’t feel worthy right now.” You can tell that Eddie thinks this is a crock of shit and that the priest doesn’t understand him at all - right up until he says Eddie doesn’t feel worthy of joy. 

Eddie tries to deflect by saying he doesn’t have a lot to feel joyful about, and in doing so he is denying the accusation by saying it’s not about what he feels he’s worthy of. There just isn’t a lot of joy in his life to be had right now. The priest challenges this perspective by putting a positive spin on all of the negative things Eddie lists, and in doing so, removes the excuse Eddie is using to avoid confronting that this is about him punishing himself. That he has been punishing himself, and it’s not clear yet how far back this behaviour actually goes. 

Because here’s the thing: Eddie thinks the water is just water. He doesn’t understand the subconscious compulsion behind it, because this is something he has been doing for so long it no longer feels abnormal. At some point, he started depriving himself of enjoying the little things in life as a way of punishing himself whenever he felt like he wasn’t living up to expectations, whenever he thought he was failing someone. The question is, when did it start, and what was the first thing he felt he deserved punishment for? 

When Father Brian identifies the mustache as a disguise he asks Eddie what he thinks he’ll see when he looks in the mirror without it, and Eddie says he thinks he’ll see a failure, a man who doesn’t deserve the joy he’s been depriving himself of. In a way, he is trying to become someone else to avoid confronting the person that he actually is, and the reason he feels he’s failed. 

This isn’t really something new: Shannon dies, and Eddie joins an illegal fight club where physical pain becomes an outlet for the anger and frustration he’s feeling. Chris is afraid of losing another parent, so Eddie deprives himself of the job that gives his life meaning outside of being Christopher’s dad rather than trying to find another solution. None of this is even taking into account the relationships he forces himself into because he feels he needs to find a replacement mother for Chris, and how forcing himself into that box he so clearly does not want for himself is just another way of depriving himself of joy. 

Father Brian tells Eddie that God has already forgiven him for his mistakes, but here’s the thing: Eddie doesn’t give a shit about God’s forgiveness, not really. The forgiveness Eddie is trying to earn isn’t even just Christopher’s - it’s his own, too. And he doesn’t know how to do that, because he doesn’t know how to love himself. The only part of himself he’s ever tried to love - being a father - has been irreparably damaged in his eyes. So how does he come back from that? How does he get back to a point where he feels deserving of being Christopher’s dad again? 

What’s interesting to me is that I do believe Christopher is the one bit of joy Eddie’s allowed himself up until now. His birth is the only time during Eddie’s entire marriage with Shannon that we see him actually happy, and this is one of the first examples of Eddie being an unreliable narrator that we have in the show because he acts like this wasn’t the case. 

Yet he was visibly unhappy for every part of his marriage we were shown, and by his own admission joining the army was just as much about running from it as it was about providing for his own family. He is unable to define what Shannon means to him, and he says he loved being married to her rather than saying he loved her. But in Shannon’s death, Eddie has romanticized her image so much that when Kim asks if she was the love of his life, he says he thinks she was. 

If Chris represents one of the sole joys Eddie has allowed himself in life, then Shannon is the reason he has received it, and the guilt he feels for letting her down - for not loving her the way he should, for not being able to be there for her, for not being able to save her despite that being his job - is so immense he can’t possibly imagine atoning for it. And to understand his guilt, we have to confront the reason he wasn’t able to be the husband he felt she deserved. 

See, we could maybe argue that Eddie didn’t initially try to reconcile with Shannon while she was alive because he felt guilty for pushing her away, except when he has a moment to get back together, he chokes. He can’t answer her when she asks what she means to him, and the fact that she even has to ask tells the audience that she isn’t sure of his feelings, even though they’ve been actively sleeping together again and spending time together as a family. He is only able to make an offer of commitment when she thinks she is pregnant again, a repeat of how they got married in the first place, and I think that’s what ultimately answers her question. She is the mother of his child, not the love of his life, but to Eddie, Chris is the real love and joy of his life, so the two kind of feel like the same thing. 

We have seen in Bobby’s storyline a widow with a tremendous amount of guilt move on and find his happily ever after. Bobby actually plays a role in the death of his wife and children, and he grapples with his guilt and suicidal tendencies because of it, but he is still able to heal as much as one can from such a trauma and fall in love with Athena. 

In contrast, Eddie shows no interest in finding another relationship until he is prompted by others. When he does try to date, he has to fake his way through two separate relationships where he just couldn’t love them the way he thought he should. He tried to - he wanted to. It would have been easier for him, and for Chris, if he could have. 

There’s nothing objectively wrong with either of the women, he seems to enjoy their company and he finds them to be pretty, but it just isn’t enough. On top of that, he admits dating has always felt like a performance, which you can especially see in his relationship with Ana where he just doesn’t seem entirely like himself. He’s the image of the man he thinks she wants him to be, because he doesn’t want another repeat of his relationship with Shannon where he always fell short of what she wanted and needed. He’s the “perfect boyfriend,” except for the part where he doesn’t feel the same about her at all. 

Marisol is a little different. While her development is limited, she’s got a more laid-back personality that is closer to Eddie’s own, and arguably she should be a good fit. Marisol feels a bit like what Eddie’s idealized relationship with Shannon was like, and that’s what makes it so very interesting when Eddie blows it all up by going out with Shannon’s doppelganger. Their relationship is an emotional affair, and Eddie admits it isn’t sex that he wants with her which is interesting because we know he and Marisol are no longer being intimate. The truth is, he doesn’t know what it is he wants from Kim, or frankly Marisol - just like he didn’t know with Shannon. 

Unfortunately, before figuring it out he pays for his sin of lying to everyone - to Chris, to Buck, and to Marisol - by getting caught in the worst possible way and traumatizing Chris in the process. We know this is how he feels from his actual confession to Father Brian, and I think to him it is the worst of all the sins he feels he’s committed because the only way he has been able to make up for everything else up until now is by being the best parent he possibly can. In a way, he has been trying to heal his own childhood trauma by breaking the cycle of toxic parenting, and giving Chris the life he never got to have.

So to Eddie, traumatizing Chris is his greatest failure, and he doesn’t know how to recover from it because he still doesn’t understand why he got involved with Kim in the first place. It’s not just that he missed Shannon, or he would be able to explain that. It goes back to what Eddie says to Kim moments before Chris walks in - that he feels broken, and like he can’t fix it. This feeling is only compounded by the fear that he has ruined his relationship with his son forever. 

The conversation with Father Brian tells us that Eddie is hiding from himself and that he is denying himself of his desires as some kind of penance. The priest recognizes this and he recognizes that Eddie doesn’t want the cop-out of being forgiven on behalf of God. He is someone who needs to feel they have actually earned it, and that’s okay - just as long as he remembers that in order to take care of others, he has to take care of himself, too. More than that, he’s directed to do something fun just for himself, and those Catholic rituals that are still part of him even if he doesn’t believe in them take over and allow him to do just that. 

There’s something really beautiful about the same institution that led to Eddie and Shannon getting married too young being what kick-starts his journey of self discovery. It was never about rediscovering religion - he was never religious to begin with. It was always about going back to that old wound and finally healing from everything that followed. It was about reclaiming the childhood he lost from growing up too fast. But mostly, it was about being told he is allowed to focus on his needs sometimes, too. 

[bluesidez]

Gym Rat Miguel Part 16

content warning: angst, recreational drug use, mentions of food, 18+ so MDNI (not spoiling the positions this time, so you’ll just have to read and see)

word count: 8.2k (thank ya once again @slushycoookie 😚)

If you really love Xina as a character, then don't read this. Nothing crazy happens, it's just so far removed from her original character action-wise that you’ll definitely get angry. That's all. 🥸👍🏾

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who should have taken the edible.

He held his head down, everything over the past years starting to click.

The touches, the stares, the treatment. Xina wasn’t just close to him because they were friends.

She was in love with him and he was too dumb to see it, too naïve to even think it was a possibility.

He takes a deep breath and looks down at his hands.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Xina speeds out. “Or maybe you can just let it sit with you.”

“Ok.”

Xina widens her eyes, “O-ok? What do you mean ok? Ok as in you…you like me back?”

“Ok as in I hear you. I understand.”

Xina nods, hand holding her elbow.

“And I’m sorry that so much happened to you. I wish you would have reached out. It sounds traumatizing and no one should have to go through that on their own.”

Xina waits, heart beating out of her chest.

“But?”

“But, it doesn’t excuse anything you’ve done to me. Not a single fucking thing.”

She opens her mouth, eyes burning and eyebrow pinched, “I-“

“-need to let me talk first,” Miguel finishes. “You know how much you mean to me, so you have to understand that what you did was so low, Xina. It hurt, genuinely.”

“I know.”

“You know and yet you continued. It’s funny because after you were being weird to my girlfriend the first time you met her, I still defended you. That’s how much I had faith in our friendship.”

Xina blinks rapidly, pulling her hair back.

“Now, I feel even more stupid because this,” Miguel pushes his hand in and out between himself and Xina, “looks exactly how she thought it was. But that’s what you wanted, right? You wanted her to feel like you were someone to look out for.”

Her lip wobbles, “For just a second, I was relieved. I was so relieved that someone finally fucking beat me to you. But then I saw how you looked at her and I, I felt something boil over.”

Miguel wanted to laugh in disbelief.

“Xina, that doesn’t make it ok for you to go in my phone, plot and scheme, then lie like you didn’t. When has that ever been right?”

“Miguel, I know that so please-“

“You don’t love me.”

Xina falters, a tear falling down her face. A light from a car outside brightens the room for just a second, and she sees Miguel give an unfamiliar look of disdain.

“Yes, I do. I do love you. How could you say that I don’t?”

“Because you really don’t,” Miguel pushed his hair off of his face, only for it to fall back in place. “Love isn’t seeing me happy and trying your best to ruin it. Love is not control. If this is what you do to me, I would hate to see what you’re willing to do to someone who wants to be yours.”

She squats, hands wiping away the sorrow on her face.

In the past, Miguel would have been at her side arms open for comfort, heart hurting to see her like this. Right now, he just wants to plead at your waist for forgiveness.

“I don’t really want to look at you right now. I think you should go.”

He starts to get up, tired.

“M-Miguel? I, I’m sorry.”

“Me too. About a lot of shit I need to fix. You have more than just me to own up to and whenever you’re ready to do that, let me know. Right now though? You can see your way out.”

“Miguel, just,” she grabs his arm. “If I- Do you-“ her quiet sobs rack through her body. “I don’t want to lose you. Y-you don’t have to like me back.”

He turns and grabs her arms softly, eyes going back and forth between hers.

“Go home, Xina.”

GymRat!Miguel who opens the door to a flustered Gabriel and a nonchalant Tempest sitting on the floor.

“It’s not what it looks like-”

“It’s exactly what it looks like,” Tempest cuts Gabriel off. She looks past Miguel to a mourning Xina. “C’mon, girl, I’ll walk you to the door.”

Miguel steps aside as Xina shuffles over. He does his best to ignore the last tug she gives his hoodie before she leaves.

GymRat!Miguel who crosses his arms as he looks at Gabriel.

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough to put a smile upon my face,” Gabriel grins. “It’s like watching your dreams come into fruition. I feel like I have enough adrenaline to run to New York and back, you know?”

“No, I don’t know. This isn’t funny, Gabri.”

“Uh,” Gabriel peers left and right. “It’s a little funny. To me.”

Miguel reaches into his pocket and threw the gummy into his mouth. The taste was interesting, to say the least.

“This is a good thing,” Gabriel tries again. “It’s one step closer to what you wanted, right?”

Miguel thought about you from last week.

He didn’t want you to look at him like that again.

“It is. I just don’t know how I let it get this far.”

Gabriel squeezes his shoulder with a pout.

“Because you’re an idiot, to be frank.”

The squawk that Gabriel lets out when Miguel hits him on the back echoes through the hallway.

GymRat!Miguel who goes back to his room to see a knocked out Lyla and Winston with a plate piled high with wings and yams.

“Yo,” he whispers, but his voice is still unbearably loud. “I think she’s trying to steal my fucking food.”

Miguel looked to Lyla who was folded over a beanbag, neck bent awkwardly. Her mouth was open and a little wet, but she was snoring up a storm.

“No, she’s not,” Miguel laughs. His friend's eyes are blown wide, horrified, like he’s in the middle of a haunted house.

Winston observes Lyla before turning back to Miguel, slow like he was made of wires and metal, “Don’t say shit to me when you’re next.”

GymRat!Miguel who shouldn’t have turned on your playlist as his limbs got heavier.

He was going to try and write something down in his journal, thoughts from before too much for his head.

It started with what just happened down the hallway. Was he right or wrong for what he said and what he did? Should he have done more?

Was it enough for you to see the truth?

You. You and everything you brought him. Your being, your emotions, you core, your love.

Now, he’s staring at the page full of your name alone scrawled across it with slow blinking eyes.

It feels like your hands are all over him and you’re whispering in his ears. You’re going through his hair from his scalp to his neck. Your tongue is hot on his skin, in his mouth. You taste like cinnamon and whipped cream. You’re pressing your chest against his and your heartbeats are becoming one.

His heartbeat.

Your heartbeat.

It’s sinking him. His heart is on the marked paper before him. It’s in red and graphite, smudged and darkened.

He’s falling. The clothes on him are rubbing against his bones. The chair under him is slipping from his grasp but he thinks you’ll catch him.

GymRat!Miguel who gasps for air as his back hits the cold metal of his desk chair.

Winston’s cackle refocuses his train of thought and he breathes in deep as he tries not to let you drown his thoughts again.

GymRat!Miguel who joins Winston on the floor to finish off the variety bag of takis.

Lyla shifts to a better position and Winston clutches his purple bag for dear life. Miguel laughs until he cries.

GymRat!Miguel who ends up on Gabriel’s fluffy rug, rubbing his hands over the fur like it’s a cat. Winston is bopping his head in the corner, music making him worry less about whether or not he’s being watched.

“Why is he so soft? What did you put on him?” Miguel asks.

Gabriel snickers as he watches him, “My feet.”

Miguel makes a face like a disgruntled cat.

“That’s fucking weird. Why would you ever do that? Is that why he smells lie that?”

“No, that’s your breath.”

Miguel gasps and covers his mouth, blowing straight through his fingers. He waits for a minute, then sniffs the air.

“You’re such a liar. It smells like apples. You need to be nicer to your rug, Gabri.”

A snap from above makes Miguel pose at the very last second. He thinks he’s posing at least. His smile is big but his eyes are closing every time the camera clicks and his peace sign is hidden somewhere in the fuzz of the rug.

“Say ‘party gal!’” Gabriel sang.

“I’m not at a party, nor am I a girl, so…no?” Miguel says with squinted eyes. “Why are you taking pictures of me?”

“Because you’re just so adorable that I have to share with your girlfriend.”

Miguel stops rubbing the rug and sits up, “Is she here? Where is she?”

Gabriel pushes him away with his foot.

“Chill out, Mig. I’m just sending her a video.”

“But,” Miguel stiffens. “It’s too dark in here. How is she supposed to see me?”

Gabriel looks at the several ambient lights his room is sporting then back to Miguel, “She can see it.”

“Was my shirt off in it? She likes it when my shirt is off.”

“I’m not filming your striptease, you hornball.”

“But Gabri-“

“No!”

GymRat!Miguel who snowballs his way through telling Gabriel his plans for when he visits New York for the next twenty minutes.

“And then,” he pauses and giggles like he’s holding the world’s greatest secret. “We go to the bodega. Ham and cheese. Orange drink. You know the one.”

Gabriel joins in his endless bubble of laughter, “Who taught you that?”

Miguel spaces out his giggles just enough to let your name fall through.

“Do you think she still loves me, Gabri? Because sometimes I get scared that she doesn’t.”

His brother sighed, head upside down as it hung off of his bed, “Yeah, I think so. It’s your first big fight, but what is love if not war?”

There’s a silence in the room.

Winston is giving a silent performance in the corner of the room now, his audience being Gabriel’s closet door of scarves and belts.

“War is what keeps humans apart,” Miguel mumbles.

“Uh oh,” Gabriel turns to look at him. “Don’t start this.”

“Statistically speaking, all first marriages have a 50% chance of surviving.”

“You just made that up.”

“No,” Miguel closes his eyes, hoping that would stop his million and one thoughts. “She could find another guy and last longer with him. It’s science. Proven.”

“You’re not even married.”

Miguel opens one eye and checks his empty left hand, “Holy shit you’re right.”

He starts to pat down his clothes, cotton pulling against his fingers.

“Where did it go? I just had it.”

Gabriel thought for a second.

“The Funyuns you just ate?”

Miguel starts to flip things over, papers and chip bags going everywhere.

He finds the bright yellow bag, opening it up and finding nothing. He turns it over and shakes it much to Gabriel’s annoyance who snatches it from his hands.

Miguel is about to cry until Gabriel throws another bag into his hands.

“Let’s switch topics,” Gabriel grumbles. “I feel like I’m watching a big ass baby.”

Miguel opens the bag and starts crunching.

“I think stars is such a good theme for the nursery. And penguins.”

“I’m turning on Spongebob.”

GymRat!Miguel who is out of his mind watching Squidward run around a blank screen.

The colors were there and now they’re not.

It does a number on him.

GymRat!Miguel who sits staring at Gabriel’s door. Watching. Waiting.

He said that you were coming around eventually.

It was sure taking you a long time to open the door.

GymRat!Miguel who is disappointed when Tempest and her pink-tipped locs bang the door open instead of you.

His slow turn and look of disappointment towards Gabriel is comical.

GymRat!Miguel who is guided back to his room by a more relaxed Tempest who asks Gabriel to distract Conchata.

“Did she say something?” Gabriel asks.

“No, but we need to act normal. She asked me some shit about some seasoning I used and I think dozed off mid-explanation. Can’t remember.”

GymRat!Miguel who finds a picture of you under his pillow right before he goes to sleep.

It’s a part of the polaroids you gave him last Christmas with your tank and panties.

He presses his lips against the film, eyes closing as he groans against it. The action repeats, his mind putting him in front of you.

A pain hits his hip, ache in his bones matching his heartbeat.

He looks down to a gray, metal hand covering him and screams.

Two of his friends jerk up from across the room while Winston throws a pillow at him.

“Shut the fuck up. I’m trying to sleep.”

Tempest squints as she removes her eye mask, “Why did you throw your arm at him?”

“He was making weird sounds,” Winston replies as if the answer was obvious.

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up to Tempest shaking him for dear life.

His eyelids are heavy and the sun peaking through the windows are bright.

His arm covers his eyes as he tries to block it, feelings of his muscles slowly coming back to him.

“C’mon, buddy. You feeling ok?”

Miguel only yawns and nods into the pillow.

“Need to pee? Feeling sick? I got some water right here.”

Miguel slowly sits up with his eyes closed, hair sticking up every which way. Tempest opens his hand and places a glass of water there, helping him guide it to his lips. One taste of the liquid and he’s gulping it down like he’s never drank before.

“What time is it?” he asks, throat dry.

“Noon,” Tempest takes the glass away. “You guys were sleeping like babies. Very cute.”

Memories of last night slowly come back.

He’s pretty sure he texted you a string of random things, but he doesn’t even know if it went through.

“Yeah, I know, I know. Come to the kitchen and eat some food.”

GymRat!Miguel who makes his friends promise to text him when they make it home.

Sure, they’ll probably be on the call tonight playing some game or watching obscure compilations, but he was nothing if not a worrier.

“And don’t forget to-“

“We know, dad,” they say in unison.

GymRat!Miguel who spends Thanksgiving near his grandma.

His mom is giving him sideways looks all day and he feels that something is coming.

GymRat!Miguel who watches his brother place his cousins in formation for a video for the nth time.

“It’s swing, back a-round, grab your pants, thumb up with ‘I’m cool’. Feet out and in at the same time then CIRCLE your arms really high. What is so hard to understand about that guys?”

He runs to his phone on the tripod.

“From the top!”

GymRat!Miguel who hides with his grandma in her bedroom as his mom starts to bark orders. She was doing a lot for someone who didn’t really celebrate Thanksgiving.

The two of them are watching some random sitcom under a giant quilt sharing coconut cookies that she snuck from the kitchen.

“¿Abuela?”

“¿Si nieto?”

“¿Alguna vez has experimentado un desamor?”

His grandmother looks up, chewing as she thought.

“Yes, but only for a short while. I didn’t really have the time to sit with my feelings.”

“But, what if you did? Does it feel as terrible as it sounds?”

“Sometimes. But we’re human. If you’ve put in effort to love, that means you can put effort into yourself to heal and grow.”

Her arms wrap around him and squeeze, kissing his cheek like he was still the chunky baby she met decades ago.

“Now, relax and watch these two teachers avoid love. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

GymRat!Miguel who is leaning on his grandma, cheek pressed against her chest, when Gabriel comes in to plop on the bed.

“Move over,” he whines to Miguel as he tries to push him away to be in the middle.

“I don’t wanna sit next to you. You’re disturbing my peace.”

“And you’re hogging Abuela.”

“Go to her other side!”

“But this side is already warm!”

“My daughter has raised two giant babies,” their grandmother laughs as she moves the blanket to let Gabriel into her other side. “What am I going to do with you two?”

GymRat!Miguel who was nearly asleep when George comes to get them to eat.

It’s deep in the evening and the crickets are loud outside of the window.

He and Gabriel pout, the darkness of the room and the smell of their grandmother’s perfume making them lethargic.

“Your cousins are going to eat up all of the empanadas if you don’t hurry up.”

Miguel perks up and stumbles out of the bed, foggy mind registering his willingness to stuff his face with doughy goodness.

“Like a moth to a flame,” Gabriel says as he helps his grandmother up.

GymRat!Miguel who is on his third or fourth plate, not that he’s really counting, when his mom does what she always does every holiday: annoy him.

“Mijo, have you checked on Xina today? I saw Tempest walk her out the other day. Was she doing alright?”

Miguel glances around the table, mouth full of turkey as he sees his family perk up.

“No, I haven’t,” he answers slowly. “I’ll see her next week. Probably.”

Conchata brings a cup to her mouth while giving him a miffed look.

“And you’re not worried about her? What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing has gotten into me,” Miguel replies calmly. His relatives are staring at him like he’s grown two heads.

“Did you two fight?” one of his aunts asks.

Miguel didn’t understand how this was anyone else’s business, but from the looks of it, it seems that his mother has already told it.

“Can I just finish my food, please?”

His mother thumps her cup against the table with more force than necessary.

“You’re never going to find a suitable woman if you keep acting like this. I know you hurt her somehow and you need to fix it.”

“Ma,” Gabriel interrupts with a hushed tone. “Right here? At the table? Seriously?”

She ignores him and stares at Miguel, as it’s supposed to urge him to obey her. His appetite is long gone.

“I have a suitable woman-“

“Mijo, no. You have stars in your eyes. You’re young, so I know you can’t see it yet, but it’s almost time for you to start planning properly for the future. I can only let your playing go on for so much longer.”

Miguel stares at her, eyes not blinking once. Gabriel anxiously looks back and forth between them.

“Who is up for Abuela’s famous cake? Mm mm mm, I know I am!” he tries, only getting a small portion of the table to move.

Miguel gets up to follow them, plate in his hand heavy and half-eaten.

They’re back at square one.

He’s not sure how many more times he can restart.

GymRat!Miguel who texts you before he knocks out.

He stares at the blinking line, thinking of all that he wants to say, but not really knowing how to put it.

“Happy Thanksgiving mi luz”

“I miss you more than ever today”

“I miss you every day”

He stops himself and turns his phone off.

GymRat!Miguel who does a light jog Friday morning.

He’s been having far too many days of wallowing and feasting.

The November air wakes him up completely.

GymRat!Miguel who thinks he still has THC in his bloodstream when your name pops up on his screen as he’s checking his miles.

He opens it too fast, heart racing faster than what any exercise could do to him.

It’s a link to your calendar, blocks of blues and pinks covering the screen. He sees that your last final is next Thursday, and his plan is already in motion.

He hearts your text and stops himself from spamming you with emojis and pictures.

He’s ready to see you.

GymRat!Miguel who has never been more happy for his coding professor being a recluse and making their final submission online.

He knew for a fact Xina was definitely still processing everything. Quite frankly, he didn’t want to see her unless she was ready to apologize to you.

He tried not to stew on it, his mom’s insinuation putting a bad taste in his mouth.

He had finals to focus on and a girlfriend to win back so he pushed thoughts of crumbling friendship to the back of his mind.

GymRat!Miguel who sits in the hallway of the art building. It was becoming a familiar sight for someone who couldn’t draw a stick figure to save his life.

He waits for the studio door to open, leg bouncing involuntarily. He wasn’t sure when it would end, so he got there about thirty minutes after it started.

Maybe that was a bad idea, simply because he feels like he’s about to sweat out of the stupid button down and sweater he chose to wear. The thick knitting was starting to suffocate him.

Pulling at the chain around his neck, he wonders if he can appeal to you like he did around this time last year.

The door opens in the middle of his tenth time rehearsing what he was going to say. A few students walk out, arms full of canvases as they chat about whatever.

Miguel stands, big bouquet in his hands and heartbeat in his ear. The students notice him and shuffle out of his way as he heads towards the studio entrance.

GymRat!Miguel who spots you talking with a classmate.

You’re both bent over some, engrossed in conversation.

Miguel sees you laugh before you stand up straight. The guy next to you looks familiar.

He rises too, and his build and height become all of the focus. His hand lands on the middle on your back and slowly begins to fall down.

Miguel is building the formation of your name at the back of his tongue, anger climbing before he can really think about it.

You grab the guy’s arm and yank it off, a smack on his shoulder to follow.

Miguel stops himself with an ugly sound, alerting you both to turn and look at him.

GymRat!Miguel who hides the bouquet behind his back, not wanting you to see it yet. Not when your friend was making him shoot daggers with his eyes.

You walk over to him eyes curious, and Miguel thinks that there was no way in this lifetime, no way in this timeline, that you weren’t made for him.

“Hi,” Miguel starts.

“Hi,” you repeat back.

“We’re matching.”

Miguel couldn’t help but to sound giddy about it. He was more than ecstatic about it. You both looked like a couple, therefore you are a couple.

You purse your lips and nod, “That we are. Did you spy on me?”

Miguel copies you and shakes his head.

“You look different.”

“Ah. I uh, I ate good.”

You pat his stomach, fingers tentative and soft, “I see.”

Miguel wants to say something back but your eyes are scanning him with a small light similar to your anniversary night.

He breathes in and puffs his chest up a bit, like a bird trying to show off his pretty feathers to win over his lady. The corners of your lips twitch, holding back your smile.

That alone brightens Miguel up.

GymRat!Miguel who tries not to deflate when your classmate slash friend slash him-imposter makes his way into an A and B conversation.

“I haven’t seen you around campus before,” he puts his right hand out, “I’m Royce.”

Miguel’s eyes flit to you and you look up to the ceiling avoiding his look with your hands behind your back. He brings his left hand out, still poorly hiding his gift for you, twisting his wrist to shake Royce’s hand.

“Miguel.”

“Strong grip you’ve got there, Miguel,” Royce smiled, lip piercing shining. The chains attached to his pants clinked together as be let go.

“Just happy to meet new people.”

Royce pulls the sleeves of his sweater up and grins, like he knew something Miguel didn’t. The fullness of his tattoos contrasted his skin.

“Likewise. What else do you have there?” he tilts his head.

You push him in his side, Royce’s laugh echoing of the studio ceiling, “Go away. You’re so irritating.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going. I’m guessing this means our late night session is rain checked?” he asks as your eyebrows raise.

He barely dodges as you pick up a ruler and swing at him, laughing as your professor tiredly asks you both to chill out.

Royce calms down, grabs his things, and hugs you goodbye, black hair brushing against your head.

“See you later. Bye, Miguel,” he sings, hand waving.

Miguel makes a line with his lips as he watches him leave.

“Interesting guy.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty fun,” you say, watching Miguel’s lips. “You ok?”

His face shifted, “I should be asking you that after everything.”

“Hm,” your eyes casted down. “Well, you’re here, so I think that counts for something.”

GymRat!Miguel who presents the bouquet to you, nervous of your reaction.

“It’s a small start, but I, I hope that we can still be together. I talked to Xina like you asked and I want to go somewhere with you to really say everything. All truths on the table.”

Your mouth wobbles as your eyes light up from the fairy lights woven throughout the green and golden roses.

“I’m sorry it’s not as big as it’s supposed to be.”

The woman he ordered them from was stacked with birthday and anniversary bouquets. He paid more than he should to get his flowers finished faster.

“‘You are my Evangeline’?” you ask, fingers going over the silky petals.

“Sí,” his hands cover yours over the bottom of the bunch. “La luz de mi vida, mi estrella. Mi bella Evangeline.”

You pout, stopping yourself from falling, only to plant your face in his chest, glasses and all.

Miguel wraps his arms around you, confused.

“You make me so weak,” you mumble.

His hands clutch onto your sweater, heart warm.

“I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing.”

You move your head, cheek pressed against his chest, “Of course you don’t. C’mon.”

His sweater is a little damp but he doesn’t mention it.

GymRat!Miguel who wants to skip as he follows you back to your dorm, but your wet oil paint canvases are in his hands. One wrong move, and his pants will be stained with whatever color landed on him.

He watches as you cradle your flowers to your chest, glancing down whenever you were waiting to cross the street.

“Do you like them?”

“Yes. They’re beautiful.”

He could do a backflip.

GymRat!Miguel who takes his shoes off by your door.

Your dorm smells like oranges and cherries, something so different than the pinecones and brown leaves outside.

“Where do want me to put these?” he asks, holding the sides of your paintings with all of his focus.

You turn and laugh at his stiff stance. His arms were stretched out to a slanted T and his feet were placed together.

“Just sit them up against the wall. They won’t bite you,” you say.

“Ok,” he says and awkwardly puts them down. He pauses his hands in front of them afterwards in case they fall.

You go to sit at your desk, placing the flowers down.

“Is Jess here?” you hear Miguel ask.

“No, she’s gone for winter break already.”

You survey your desk, looking for anything else to focus on. You brought him here, you asked for him to prove himself, yet it’s barely been two weeks since you told him that. You feel silly for it.

Still, when you don’t hear or feel him for a while, you call his name.

“Miguel?”

“What’s this?” he asks.

Spinning around, you see he’s by the end of your bed, on the floor rummaging through a box.

“You packed my stuff up?” he holds up a hoodie that you only let him wear shortly before it finds its way back into your closet. His eyebrows turn, limbs heavy as he pulls out gift after jacket after picture. So many things that marked his time together with you.

“Looking at everything was too much for me. I did it the night we fought. It helped me to focus and not,” you threw your hands up, “simmer on my boyfriend sleeping with someone who is practically the opposite of me.”

Miguel pushes the box to the side and crawls towards you. It was an odd sight to see him inching steadily across your big rug. He stops and sits in front of you, face upset.

“I really wish you would listen to me. I wish you would believe me.”

“I’m trying-“

“No, baby,” Miguel says, pulling your chair towards him. You were too far away. “You’re not. You’re blocking me out.”

You blink, fingers picking at your nails.

“Do you remember that time I said I wasn’t going to let you go?” Miguel wraps your legs around his sides and slots his head on your thigh. “I was serious about that. You aren’t supposed to let me go either.”

“I know,” you whisper. “I know.”

“So if you know, why did you let me go?”

You took a deep breath.

“Because I was hurting, Miguel. I painted this picture in my head of you two being this perfect, ideal couple because of….jealousy? Insecurity? I don’t know. I would see you two in the library sometimes or standing in line for food together, close and wrapped up in a bubble. I kept telling myself that you both were friends. These are the things that friends do. I would leave before I could give myself time to get stupidly upset. But when we were all hanging out together, you kept defending everything she was doing.”

Miguel thinks back to the comments and snide remarks he let slide and wants to shake that version of himself out of delusion.

“Then, there were the messages that weren’t going through, the calls that were getting dropped. Sometimes, I saw Xina holding you,” your voice faltered. “And she’d wear things I could find in my closet and I thought I was being punked. So, when I saw you on your birthday and took a leap of faith, I was destroyed when she was texting your phone.”

You couldn’t take it. You thought he lied to your face for months.

Miguel closed his eyes, trying to form what he wanted to say.

He’s thinking about how stupid he was to not see your pain. The signs were all there, or at least, the times when he should have stepped in were.

That aside, he was upset. Upset at the situation, upset that his relationship has been torn by someone who barely acknowledged him for a year, upset at you.

He didn’t want another girl, he didn’t need another girl, and even if by some sick and terrible decision, he decided to part ways with you, he would never choose Xina.

She couldn’t love him the way you do and what she did to him showed that.

She couldn’t make him feel the way you do. You left him with butterflies, you made him excited. You brought him so much joy.

She couldn’t care for him the way that you did. She would rather hang him out to dry to make herself look good before she thought about how he felt about something.

She couldn’t even confess to him without hurting him, without trying to shift her chances of being with him. It sucks that her life was changing so rapidly against her will, but that didn’t mean she had to create a whirlwind for him to suffer through, too.

It’s so irritating how she came in and swept up his time, his life, and your confidence, but it’s more frustrating for you to have to even wonder if she could replace you.

Miguel’s mind is going a thousand miles per minute, head starting to hurt with how aggravated he was.

“Don’t cry,” you say reaching up to his face, sniffling. “Please, don’t cry.”

He didn’t even notice he was. He realizes then that his thoughts were made aloud.

“’M sorry,” he says, face scrunching up. He leans into your hand, eyes closed as the tears fall. “I’m sorry for everything. But I’m angry that you keep thinking that you’re not worth my love. You’re worth it. You’re worth so much more than what I can give you. But I feel so lucky that you’re giving me the chance to be a part of your life, so I want you to love yourself, too.”

You nod once, twice, before your palms cover your face and you’re sobbing. Miguel pulls you down to his lap, holding you tight. He hated that you were fighting these thoughts alone, but now that he’s aware of everything he’ll try his best again to give you the love you needed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair like a mantra.

Through your sorrow, your relief, you everything, you echo his words, “I’m sorry, too. I should have trusted you more.”

“True,” Miguel says and you laugh in the midst of your aches. “But I still love you.”

“I love you, too. I never stopped.”

He squeezes you tighter, heart feather light.

GymRat!Miguel who eventually gets you comfortable, the two of you settling down on the giant plush bean bag sofa that you’ve stuffed under your dorm bed.

He was prepared to wine and dine you, but you insisted on videos and some warm, fulfilling fast food. The true college dream.

You laid on his chest, watching as the man on screen yelled as his character opened the door to a bathroom and a stranger was fixing the sink. Miguel tensed under you, hands gripping the waist of your lounging pants.

It was making up for the Halloween you two spent apart.

“Too scary?” you move your head to look at his face.

His mouth was twisted up, heart beating, “No…”

“Then, why are you holding me so tight?”

“A boyfriend can’t hold his girlfriend?”

You grinned.

You didn’t know how much you missed him calling you his girlfriend until he was less than a centimeter away from you.

A scream followed by a line of curses comes from your laptop speakers, Miguel gasping and squinting at the screen, eyes almost squeezing shut.

“You know, we don’t have to watch this,” you try your best to turn your body so that you were fully on top of him. “We can watch something else.”

Miguel focused on your face, eyes fighting to not look at your lips, “Like what?”

“We can watch a cooking competition. I know you have some documentaries and video essays saved up. We could watch those.”

Miguel thinks he could really be a lip reader. Your lips were moving pretty fast, but he thinks he got most of it.

“You want to use the kitchen this late? It might be closed.”

You slide your hand up his chest, comforting through the thin shirt. Your lips move again and Miguel blinks slowly trying to keep up.

A touch on his jaw has him look up.

“Did you hear me?”

Miguel moves his head in a circle, answer going from yes to no.

“What are you thinking right now?”

He feels you out, hands slowly going down your back and circling the area where your thighs curve out into your ass.

“How much I need to kiss you.”

“Oh really?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Then maybe, you should put those words into action.”

That was all he needed to pull you up, mouth going to yours like a magnet. You make a startled noise as he opens his mouth to slide his lip from your jaw to the bottom of your lip.

You open your mouth with his, thumbs rubbing against his sideburns as he hums against your tongue. The sound of the push and pull of your lips fills the small space under your bed. The tale of the girl and her winter vacation long forgotten in the background.

His hands go under your waistband, palms bringing extra warmth as he squeezes over your underwear.

“I missed this,” he sighs, mouth and hands working together to make you melt into him. He was starting to grind you against him, humming low in his throat.

“Kissing me or something else?” you open your eyes a little, watching his eyelashes against his cheek.

He pushes up against you, bean bag shifting down, “Everything.”

“Cheeky.”

“More like charmed.”

The two of you were glued to each other long enough for the hour long video to end, only the glow of your fairy lights and lamps lighting your room.

Both of your shirts were pulled up, your chest smooshed against his. Miguel had one hand around your waist, massaging your side, and another pulling your underwear between your lips so that you had something extra to feel as you grind against his groin.

“Bebecita,” Miguel says after you let his tongue from your lips. He pecks you in between his words, hungry. “Let’s move this to the bed.”

He kisses down your jaw, making no effort to get up.

“I don’t have any condoms and unless you’re willing to drive out to get some-”

Miguel removes a hand to reach into his pocket.

“Did you just have that on you?” you ask looking at the pack of condoms in his hand.

“No. I got them when I went to go get clothes.”

You tut, “So you just thought we were going have sex? You’re not even supposed to be in here right now.”

He slides his fingers down between your legs, pressing on your lips over cotton, “Of course not, bebe. I’m not an animal.”

He rubs and sucks a kiss into your neck. You’re so lost in him that you didn’t even realize that you were beginning to push back against his fingers. The moan you let out brings you back to reality.

Seeing Miguel’s smug face made you hide yours in his chest.

“Just try not to be too loud. I don’t know if my neighbor is still here or not,” you muffled into his skin.

GymRat!Miguel who really didn’t give a fuck about the neighbors.

He thinks he wants them to hear. It’s been too long since he had you, his decency was thrown out of the window.

Right now, he was head first, indulging, sucking at the entrance of your heat. You were on your knees, ass in his face, and feet hanging off the bed. You were already so wet from earlier, but now he has you dripping down his face onto the floor, moaning into your pillow.

He didn’t hear you over himself as he gripped your skin to spread you over his tongue. Your thighs were shaking like a leaf, feet occasionally kicking as Miguel found his pocket to make you suck him in.

You sounded off into the silk case below you, trying not to make yourself louder than the music you put on.

Miguel was satisfied that you came on his tongue, but didn’t like you censoring yourself not one bit.

“I want to try something new,” he states into your skin, sucking your clit through the aftershocks.

You only give him a shaky thumbs up, mind still finding its other pieces.

GymRat!Miguel who has you flat against your stomach along the bed. There really was barely any room to do this, but he was going to make it work.

You had a long mirror in your room that wasn’t attached to the wall, so beforehand, he brought it over to lean against the desk and turn it towards the top of your bed. He saw the confusion in your face through the glass, but he only smiled and went right back to you.

Now, he was holding one cheek over as he slid in slowly. From the mirror, he could see your face scrunch up. He shifted his knees, watching.

“¿Estás bien?” he asks. “Want me to slow down? Pull out?”

“No,” you keen, constricting around him. He sucked air in through his teeth, feeling you suck him in. “I just haven’t felt you in a while.”

He leans to kiss up your back, taking fat in between his lips to mark it as his. He fights the urge to just bite and stay there for a while.

“Whose fault is that, pretty?” he teases, dragging his lips to the back of neck.

You look to your left and pout at him through the mirror. He looks back, eyes scanning your naked upper half.

You arch your back and tighten around him. He thinks you’re a menace.

“Yours,” you tease back.

“Yeah?” his left hand grabs your waist, thumb pressing into the small of your back. He slides out a bit, hips elevated. “Let me fix that, then.”

His hips dip back into you, smack of his skin against yours. The bed creaks and Miguel watches your eyelids fall.

“Do you want a fast solution?” Miguel says right in your ear. “Or should we do some deeper research?”

He snaps his hips again, leaning down and pressing his weight onto you. Your hands curl up against the mattress, mouth open but only letting out gasps and breaths. Miguel nearly pulls all the way out, then swerves back in, pushing your voice out of you.

“It sounds like you want to pull from some scholarly articles,” Miguel whispers. He’s barely picking up a sweat while you’re hot everywhere. “It’s unclear.”

The springs of the mattress sing, metal and wood bed frame keeping a steady tempo against the wall.

You can’t even focus enough to tell him to shut up, the position you were in knocking the wind out of you. You start to hide your face in your pillow again, overwhelmed.

Miguel releases an offended sound.

“Nuh uh,” his right hand wraps in front of your neck. He pulls head up and turns it towards the mirror. “Look how pretty you look. Don’t hide.”

Your boyfriend might be a little nuts.

Your eyes can’t even focus but he’s holding your head steady and nibbling your earlobe as he waits. Your glasses are crooked and fogging up, you can’t even really see.

His name tries to fall from your mouth, but that “M” sound comes out broken and loud. He’s too busy being enchanted by how good you look.

“Mi preciosa princesita,” his hips stutter as you clench in response. “So gorgeous.”

He’s hitting your spot over and over again. You’re losing track of time.

“Don’t you think so too, baby?” Miguel huffs.

“Y-yes, Miggy, please.”

“Are you close?”

You nod, watching his eyes get darker.

“Ok, bebé. I still have some follow-up questions, though. Gonna answer them?”

A yell comes out as your answer, Miguel stroking faster.

He kisses your cheek and takes your glasses off. They were slipping and he was scared you were going to break them.

“Question one, do you want to do something for winter break?”

He opens your legs a bit, leaning and wrapping his hand under your body. His fingers find your clit and rub nice and slow. Overstimulated, you scream into the pillow. Miguel kisses your shoulder as he hums.

“I think that’s a yes,” Miguel says. Your back arches as you try to move your hips to match his pace. “Question two, what do you want for Christmas? It’s getting late, but I’ll find it. I swear.”

“Fuck, Miguel,” you say as his hands move to your breasts. He can’t do much, but there’s still something so good about him all over you.

“You want this again? We can arrange that.”

He was close and you could hear it in the way his voice wavered.

“Last question,” he rose off of you, hands pushing against your back. Your body couldn’t move as he slapped his pelvis against your ass. The recoil sounded off in the room and the entire bed jumped with his movement.

“Are you still mad at me?”

Your back arched as you felt him breach deep enough to make you go crazy. He was mumbling something but your thoughts were swimming with his dick inside of you about to introduce another orgasm.

“Say it back, baby. You gotta say it back,” Miguel’s voice sounds out.

There might be a pool of drool growing under your face. Your boyfriend didn’t care, though. He would still want you to say that declaration through any obstruction.

“I love you, Miguel. Te amo tanto.”

His hips quicken, bed against the wall like a drumline.

When he cums, his body tightens and releases, weight letting go as he covers you. He’s breathing hard, “te amo,” his proverb to you.

You blink at the mirror, vision blurry, but the comforted and satisfied expression of Miguel still recognizable.

You could stay like this, breaths slowly becoming tighter until you fall asleep in his arms.

The bed gives a loud snap, scaring Miguel into nearly falling off of it with you on top.

It’s leaning a little more to the back left than it should.

“Did you just break my fucking bed?”

He panics, “I-it was a joint effort!”

“Miguel.”

GymRat!Miguel who thanks whatever entity it is out there afterwards that it was just a screw that came out and not the bed actually completely splitting.

“This is why the beds are tiny in the first place,” you say from the bean bag, watching him screw it back together.

“I would have covered the costs if it was actually broken. We should look into sturdy bed frames for the future, though.”

“Oh?”

Miguel pauses, “Not that I was thinking about that!”

“You already have a list, don’t you.”

You watch his hands stutter as he puts your screwdriver back in your bin.

GymRat!Miguel who suggests you lay on top of him in the bed.

The two of you were freshly showered and ready to close your eyes any minute now.

“We should take breaks more often. I feel like jelly,” you say with a low voice, drawing circles over his chest.

He grabs your wrist, voice serious in the dark, “Don’t joke like that.”

“Hmm, I guess you’re right. You made up for the last time you didn’t make me come.“

“Baby.”

You giggled into him as he pinched your sides.

“What about you and Royce? Your friend whose name starts with an R and ends with an E.”

“It’s not my fault rose and Royce are similar!”

“But you knew what you were doing. How cruel,” he pouts.

You pat his cheek!

“Well, you don’t have to worry because he has a boyfriend.”

“Oh! So, he’s gay.”

“Bi. Open relationship.”

“Oh,” Miguel replied, less happy.

“I kind of just want one lover, though.”

“Oh,” Miguel says again, more happy. “What kind of lover?”

You stay quiet for so long, Miguel thinks you’ve gone to sleep.

There’s a lot of things that you love about him. His kindness, his heart, his determination, his wit. Tonight, though, he truly took your breath away.

And you realize, he’s always done that.

“The kind that loves me the way that you do.”

Miguel’s chest rises and falls like a wave that gets weaker as it hits the shore.

“Me too, mi luz. Me too.”

divider by: fanguro + adornedwithlight 🩵

a/n: Our family is has been brought back together!! Also, if you get which horror game they were watching, you get a gold star.

Please very mindful, very cutesy, very demure in the comments. Don’t ask about the next part unless you have something nice/constructive to say to go with it. And no, this is not the last time Xina will be in this story. But it’ll get better!

The taglist is full, so if you would like to be informed of future updates, check my blog occasionally (💀) or subscribe to the story on AO3!

taglist: @ghost-lantern @miguelhugger2099 @emelie-s-h @lake-lili

@obsessed-with-miguels-ass @scaleniusrm @superiorspiderass @lexluvswriting

@flordelalunas @froggygal @vmpz8sauceee @famouscattale @nixinluv02

@jada-of-arcadia @spideykid22 @what-the-jams @julia4today @tojishugetiddies

@samjinxx @sleeklyalisha @the-pan-liquid @prongs-lover @kikaaauu

@urlocallocachica @wanderlustingcastaway @peachey-pie @ch3rry-bl1ss @girl-of-multi-fandoms

@love-kha1 @manlikemilesmyguy @sillysillygoofygoose @monticellohoe @kodzuminx

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@ohara-whore @muneca-lemon-steppa @alexa4040 @amelialysm @snails-doodles22

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@corpsenightmarebride @earth2fae @maiyart @feegrh32 @darkstarlight82

@ladysimp @sonicbutbutter @relatednative @slowlyshycomputer @nuetralcolorsenthusiast

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@poisamm @thequeenreaders @tinybirdhidedout @aly29a2001 @mimi-sanisanidiot

@snakelore @pigeonmama @darkstalight82 @prettygirleli @koikohib

@jayskookies @xo-zeze @planetxella @thedevax @stressed-cherry

[tofics]

🥲 With the way my period went last week, this fic was on my brain constantly. But my god, Bug, I needed time to digest this masterpiece. (I've also saved various of your other works in my drafts to comment on later. I apologize for the reblog spam that is about to happen.)

Kay, now. Let's dive in, shall we? 🥰

Joel wakes up early the next morning and greets you with a kiss pressed to the side of your head. “Fuck off,” you mumble, your voice is still thick with sleep but he knows you mean it so he lets you sleep in a bit while he cleans the bathroom for you. He works as quietly as he can, scrubbing it and mopping it from top to bottom. He empties the trash can and the laundry hamper, he makes sure there’s a fresh bar of soap and a new washrag for you. Joel’s just finishing up and wiping dust from the mirror when you find him in the bathroom. “Mornin’, sunshine,” he says as he kisses the top of your head. “How do you feel?”

What a sweet, sweet, kind man. If I woke up to a freshly cleaned bathroom while on my period, I'd probably cry.

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” you mumble. “The bleach you used makes my head hurt worse.”

🥲 Ma'am. I get it. But. The sweet man.

If looks could fuckin’ kill, Joel thinks. You’re glaring at him. He takes that as his cue to leave. You shrink away from him as he gently brushes your arm when he walks past, then shut the door loudly behind him. Ouch. Joel knows not to take it personally, though. You’re crampy, but you’re also probably hungry. He’ll make you breakfast, something with protein because he knows you need it. 

Sorry, did you say saint??? Saint Joel???

“I didn’t hear ya, sweetheart. Speak up, please.”  “I said yes,” you snap.  Your clipped tone cuts like a knife. Joel bites his inner cheek as he takes your plate from you.

😫 The disrespect. The bitten cheek. (Loved that bit. His annoyance is growing, but he's still keeping his cool. Again, did someone say saint??)

“No. I don’t care,” you interrupt, which hurts Joel’s feelings a little. A lot, actually.

S' OKAY, SWEET BABY. C'MERE. MAMA'S GOT YOU.

“Your glasses broke.”  “Yeah. I see that.”  “I didn’t mean to,” you tell him defensively. “Right.”  “But you really shouldn’t leave your glasses there, Joel.”

Breaking the silence, Joel finally clears his throat and continues his thought, “I’m gonna give you two options,” Joel says. “You can walk the fuck away from me, or you can get on your knees. Whichever you choose, you do so silently. Nod if you understand.” 

“You’ve earned yourself brownie points choosin’ the latter of the two options, but this still ain’t gonna be fun for you,” he says.

S' okay 🥲 I was a bitch 🥲 I deserve it 🥲 Do with me as you please 🥲🥲🥲

He draws out of your mouth entirely only to force his way back in, making you gag and sputter. You attempt to pull away but Joel keeps his hand firm on your head and holds you right where he wants you. “Nuh-uh. I don’t know where you think you’re goin’, hon.”

“Quiet,” he growls. “Heard fuckin’ enough outta you today. You keep quiet.”

🫡 Sir yes, sir.

“Let it be a lesson to ya, then, if it hurts. That mouth ‘a yours has done nothin’ but bitch and moan at me today. S’a punishment, ain’t ‘sposed to feel good.”

I have really bad news for you, then. Ahem.

“Because if I don’t fuck you,” he says, “Then I’m gonna strangle you. So which would you like?”

“I will wash the fucking sheets. We can add it to the list of all the things I’ve done for ya today, hm?”

Ohhh, he's done done. I just *loved* this bit. The frustration, how fed up he is with the reader. Suddenly you're concerned about causing a little bit of work? Oh, hohoho, no no no. Too fucking late.

Joel had assumed sexual frustration had been playing a role in your attitude today. Cramps, headaches, all sorts of things going on with you and a needy, aching pussy to boot. He does feel sorry for you, but he feels sorry for himself too. It’s why he got his first, but now it’s time for you to get yours. An orgasm should set you straight, or two or three. Whatever he feels is necessary. 

😩 Ma'am. Please. I can only take so much. The hotness in just this ONE paragraph. PLEASE. 😩 "An orgasm should set you straight, or two or three. Whatever he feels is necessary." 🥲 I am a puddle on the floor.

Joel takes his free hand and uses it to press down on your lower stomach, intensifying the feeling of it all. You come hard, gushing on his fingers as you whimper his name.

🫠🙃🫠🙃

“Quiet,” he commands. He begins teasing your slit with his cock once more before he speaks, “So this is what we’re gonna do: you’re gonna take what I give you, however much or little it is. You’re not gonna cry or complain ‘cause you’ve done enough of that today. Right?” Joel pauses, “Nod your head.”

“I know, I know, sweetheart,” he coos at you to quiet you down. “You’re all out of sorts today. M’gonna fix it. I always fix it, don’t I?”

*inhales* - *screams*

He fucks you without discipline, no tenderness at all to the action with those sloppy thrusts, but you’re more lost in him than he is in you - he’s focused on your face, watching you make an ‘O’ with your mouth, and he’s focused on your bouncing body, your twitching thighs spread wide. Your moans, your whimpers and your whines, babbling nothing but nonsense. Joel’s brow is furrowed as he breathes heavily through his teeth, his soft body jerking above you as he hits that sweet spot inside you over and over and over… “It’s all ya needed, isn’t it? The whole goddamn time,” he pants. “Didn’t need to go an’ bitch me out all day if you needed lovin’ like this. Woulda been nice f’ya just said so.”

😶 I have died and am now reading this from the depth of hell. Fuuuuck me!

“Always the tears with you, huh?” he taunts. “Always somethin’. Oh, I know. I know.” 

The fucking "I know"s kill me. Like, I didn't know two simple words like that could do the things to me that they're doing. But here we are. Is that a kink? Is there an "I know" kink? I think I have it.

“You’re gonna tell me what you need,” he instructs, “And you’re gonna ask for it. Nicely. So that means usin’ your manners. Please, Joel. Thank you, Joel. Remember those words?”

You’re surprised when he returns to you, pelvis covered in your blood, and scoops you right up in his arms. He helps you to your feet and on shaky legs, guides you to the bathroom. It no longer smells like bleach but instead, lavender. He’s got a candle lit on the sink and the bathtub is filled with warm, bubbly water. “Picked out a bubble bath for you earlier when I went out. Wanna test it out with me?”

😭😭😭 SAY IT WITH ME: JOEL MILLER IS A FUCKING SAINT. A SAINT THAT FUCKS, BUT A SAINT NONETHELESS.

Christ on a cracker, this was delicious from start to finish. I think you have had a lasting impact on how I see (and am trying to write) smut. 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

Thank you indeed. 🙌 A masterpiece!!!!

Seeing Red

“Because if I don’t fuck you,” he says, “Then I’m gonna strangle you. So which would you like?”

Joel’s sorry that your period sucks, but he's reached the end of his rope with your attitude. (6k)

Tags - 18+ smut, brat taming, blow jobs, face fucking, rough period sex, fingering, mating press, overstimulation and multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare in the form of a shared bubble bath, all things periods and period symptoms so headaches, breast pain, cramps, irritability that reader takes out on Joel. You will feel so bad for being such a cunt to this man but he gets to fill two of your holes with his cum so it all kind of evens out. takes place in jackson Fic help - @beefrobeefcal and @joelsdagger for all of their love and support and eyeballs, @noxturnalpascal and @endlessthxxghts thank you both for being my compass and giving me direction and helping to make this fic perfect. I love you <3 A/N - if you're on your period, i'm sending you a hug <3 if you're not i'm hugging you too

I was reminded of my friend @covetyou's fic "Sleepless" which is a lovely piece of classic literature, just like the rest of her works, and I'd like to credit her for inspo. Thank you Lo 🤎🩷💚

You should have guessed there’d be a bloodstain in your underwear, but despite the headaches, your sore breasts, and your cramping abdomen, you’re surprised when you’re met with rusty red in your panties. Fucking great, you whisper, dripping with sarcasm, this is not what you needed today. You had so many things you wanted to get done and now you were going to be spending the whole day miserable and in pain.

“Joel,” you loudly call out. You wait a beat, nothing. “JOEL,” you yell louder. 

You hear the faint sound of his recliner, the popping of his knees and the creaking of the stairs as he walks up them. His two feet are visible through the space between the floor and the bathroom door and then he knocks, “Whatcha need, darlin’?”

“New underwear,” you answer. “And a pad. Also in the underwear drawer.” 

Joel walks away and returns with what you’ve asked for and slides both items under the door. You change your panties and secure the pad made of old rags and t-shirts with the clothespin attached to it. “You got it?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you reply.

“Guessin’ you just started your cycle, then.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Can I get you anything?”

“Nope,” you answer. “I think I’m just gonna go to bed.” 

“Alright. I’ll join you, then.” 

 You wash your hands and rinse the bloodstain out of your panties with annoyance in the sink, wringing them out before tossing them in the dirty laundry hamper in the bathroom. When you unlock the door and leave the bathroom, Joel’s already asleep in your shared bed. He sleeps curled on his side and yet he still fucking snores - between that and the pain you’re in, you know it won’t be a restful night of sleep. You look at Joel, sleeping peacefully like a baby, and yet you wanna beat the living fucking crap out of him. You curl your body around his, stealing his body heat to soothe your cramps. 

Joel wakes up early the next morning and greets you with a kiss pressed to the side of your head. “Fuck off,” you mumble, your voice is still thick with sleep but he knows you mean it so he lets you sleep in a bit while he cleans the bathroom for you. He works as quietly as he can, scrubbing it and mopping it from top to bottom. He empties the trash can and the laundry hamper, he makes sure there’s a fresh bar of soap and a new washrag for you. Joel’s just finishing up and wiping dust from the mirror when you find him in the bathroom. “Mornin’, sunshine,” he says as he kisses the top of your head. “How do you feel?” 

“Shitty.” You grab at the mirror and Joel’s skin crawls as you touch the glass with your thumb, the smudges left behind from your fingertips clear as day on the freshly cleaned glass. He’ll just touch it up later. You pull out your toothbrush and frown, your nose scrunched in disgust. “It smells like bleach in here,” you complain.

“Well, yeah,” Joel chuckles. “I just cleaned it for ya. ‘Course it smells like bleach.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” you mumble. “The bleach you used makes my head hurt worse.”

“Oh,” Joel scratches the back of his head and frowns. “M’sorry, then. Well, we can let it air out for a while, we’ll leave the fan on. Shouldn’t smell for more than a day or so.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

If looks could fuckin’ kill, Joel thinks. You’re glaring at him. He takes that as his cue to leave. You shrink away from him as he gently brushes your arm when he walks past, then shut the door loudly behind him. Ouch. Joel knows not to take it personally, though. You’re crampy, but you’re also probably hungry. He’ll make you breakfast, something with protein because he knows you need it. 

He cleans the kitchen first. He washes the dirty dishes you must’ve forgotten about last night and wipes crumbs from the table. As you come downstairs dressed in sweats and a shirt you stole from Joel, he’s finishing up making your breakfast. “Sit down, I made your favorite.” 

You sit down at the table with your head in your hands. Joel puts a plate with two slices of perfectly golden brown toast and two over-easy eggs in front of you, then a fork and a knife on either side. He fills a glass with water for you as well. He walks away to clean up the stove, then turns around to check on you. Your face is contorted in disgust and you’re not eating. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t want this,” you grouse.

“But s’your favorite. You love your eggs over easy,” Joel says. “And the toast, that’s fresh bread and butter. Eat up.” 

“Yeah, but I wanted scrambled.” 

Joel stares at you for a moment, dumbfounded. You usually hate scrambled eggs, and he knows this. But you’re not smirking or holding back laughter like you’re fucking with him. So maybe your tastes have changed, who knows. “Okay. Would you like me to make you scrambled eggs instead, then?”

“Yes,” you mumble in a small voice. 

“I didn’t hear ya, sweetheart. Speak up, please.” 

“I said yes,” you snap. 

Your clipped tone cuts like a knife. Joel bites his inner cheek as he takes your plate from you. He quickly scarfs down the perfectly cooked eggs and toast as he makes you a new plate of breakfast, this time with scrambled eggs. He places it in front of you with a little less care than before and waits for you to take a bite. “Better?”

“Just okay.” 

‘Just okay’. Of course you think it’s ‘just okay’, they’re scrambled fucking eggs - which you don’t like. You’re just being - 

Joel needs to cool off. Hopefully once you’ve eaten you’re a little less irritable. “I’m gonna head out an’ do some errands. Be back shortly,” He’s met with no answer from you, which he expected. 

-

He comes back an hour or so later with a few things from the market he’s been needing along with a couple of VHS tapes that he rented from the library. “So,” Joel says, “I picked out some movies for ya.” He lays four tapes down on the coffee table in front of the couch where you lay. “When Harry Met Sally, that’s a good one,” he begins, “Next is How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days, then Blade Runner, and I picked out My Cousin Vinny,” Joel says. He thinks you’re gonna pick out Blade Runner because it stars Harrison Ford, who he knows you have a thing for. “My Cousin Vinny is pretty good, I don’t think we’ve seen that one yet f’ya wanna give that a try.”

“Mmm, no.” 

Shot down. “Okay. How ‘bout Blade Runner, then. S’got Indiana Jones in -”

“No. I don’t care,” you interrupt, which hurts Joel’s feelings a little. A lot, actually. “I wanna watch this one,” you point to How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days. “He’s cute.” 

Of course you picked the Matthew McConaughey movie. God, Joel fucking hated him. He always seemed so skeezy, if there’s anyone who should’ve bit it on Outbreak Day, it should’ve been Matthew McConaughey. “Yeah, okay. Whatever. Do you think he’s dreamy too?”

“Fuck off, Joel.” 

So teasing’s off the table too, he’ll add that to the list of things that have pissed you off today. Joel turns on the TV and puts the tape in the VHS player before he sits back down next to you. At first you rest on his shoulder, then you spread out and lay your head on his lap. It’s not long before you fall asleep on Joel, leaving him to watch this dumb fucking movie all by himself because god forbid he move you and disrupt your nap. He knows better than to do that. 

-

“So fuckin’ stupid,” Joel whispers to himself as the movie plays, though he did find himself enjoying the part where the Kate Hudson sings “You’re So Vain” by Carly Simon. He always did like that song. 

“Mmmm,” you groan, shifting onto your back. Joel’s hand is stroking your hair as you look up at him, but you push it away. “You’re too close to me,” you grumble. 

“What’re you talkin’ about?” 

“You’re crowding me. I feel smothered.” 

Joel scoffs. “Oh, you feel smothered? You’re the one who laid on me.” Once again, your glare is all that you need to say. “Alright then, I’ll move.” Joel concedes. He lifts your head gently and scoots down to the opposite end of the couch. And then he hears you huff. “What?”

“Well, now I don’t have a pillow.” 

Joel sighs as he gets up to grab a throw pillow from the opposite couch. 

“The other one.” 

You’re referring to the other throw pillow that’s absolutely indistinguishable from the one currently in Joel’s hand, but he gets it for you anyway. “Lift your head,” he says softly, putting the pillow under you. He sits back down in the spot you made him move to as you both watch the movie play, but your soft groans interrupt. You’re no doubt in pain from all the cramps right now. “I’ve got somethin’ like a heating pad,” Joel says, looking at you. “S’a big sock filled with rice, I heat it up and use it for neck and back pain. Would that help with them cramps?” You nod without making any effort to meet Joel’s eyes, which he finds a little rude. But still, you’re hurting. He’ll give you grace. 

So, once again, Joel gets up for you. He goes upstairs to get his rice sock from his nightstand, then comes back downstairs and heats it in the microwave for a couple of minutes. He pokes the sock to make sure it’s plenty warm for you and then gives it to you to take. “Here,” he says, “Hold it on your tummy.”

“JESUS,” you yell at him. 

“What?”

“It’s too fucking hot, Joel, why would you make it so hot?” 

 “Just give it a second, sweetheart, you’ll get used to it.” 

“No. It was burning me.” 

“Okay, then let me have it and we’ll let it cool off a minute. Christ almighty.” Joel takes the sock back from you, and he knows his hands are pretty calloused but…it doesn’t feel that hot. When a few minutes have passed, he gives it back to you. “This should be better.” 

You lay the big, warm stuffed sock across your stomach and frown. “It’s not warm enough.” 

“You have gotta be kiddin’ me.” 

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head, giving Joel back his sock like you just assume he’ll heat it up again for you. 

“Just a couple minutes ago you screamed bloody murder about it burnin’ you. And now it’s not hot enough?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” When Joel doesn’t jump immediately to reheat the sock for you, you look at him impatiently. “Joel.” 

“You can ask, you know.” 

But Joel gets the hint and gets up for you a third time to reheat the sock he’s letting you borrow. You don’t say please, and when he returns with the sock reheated, there’s no thank you either. What does he get from you? “It’s too hot.”

“Then tell me how I should rectify that for you, because last time I let it cool off and it wasn’t warm enough for ya after.” 

“I don’t know,” you snap. “You’re just really upsetting me right now. Everything hurts and your voice is grating.”

“I’m upsetting you?” Joel repeats your words back to you. “And my voice is grating.” 

“Yes.” 

He’s about at his wits end. “You know, you–” Joel decides not to finish that sentence. Instead, he sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes out on the count of five. “Two, three, four…You need to drink some water. S’your first issue, you’re probably dehydrated. Did you drink any water?” 

“It’s not your business.”

 Jesus fucking Christ. “Okay, well I’m makin’ it my business.” Joel gets up for the fourth goddamn time and slams the cup cabinet before filling a glass with water from the sink. He marches back to the couch, “Sit up,” he says. “Drink.” 

“I don’t want to,” you whine. 

“It’ll fix your headache. Drink.” 

“It won’t actually, that’s a myth.” 

“Right, what do I know when you’ve got an answer for fuckin’ everything. Drink.” 

You sit up, scowling at Joel as you take a sip. 

“All of it.” 

You drink the rest of it, glaring at him the whole time. He’s so full of shit, as if any of what you’re going through could be fixed by drinking a glass of water. Water won’t fix your cramps, won’t fix your aching and sore back. When you’re done, you slam the glass on the end table next to you and in doing so, break Joel’s reading glasses. Oops. Didn’t see those. The lenses aren’t shattered, but one of the arms is all bent now. When you look at Joel, he’s biting his bottom lip and breathing deeply. “Your glasses broke.” 

“Yeah. I see that.” 

“I didn’t mean to,” you tell him defensively.

“Right.” 

“But you really shouldn’t leave your glasses there, Joel.”

“Yeah, right. Shouldn’t leave my glasses on the end table,” Joel says. “I should leave them where, exactly? Maybe the floor?” 

“Somewhere else.” 

“Right. Somewhere else.” 

He’s hoping that by repeating your words back to you, you start to hear how absolutely ridiculous you sound. But you don’t seem to. Joel turns and walks away before he fucking throttles you. 

“Can you put on the next movie? I wanna watch My Cousin Vinny.”

Now, now you want to watch that movie. And Joel’s gonna miss out, because he can’t stand to be around you for one minute longer. “Are your legs broken?” 

“Yes.” 

Walked into that one. “You’re fuckin’ impossible. Fine. I’ll put it on, then I’m goin’ away for a bit.” 

“Good.”

Oh, he could fucking kill you. This whole day he’s heard nothing but complaints from your mouth, no pleases or thank you’s at all. Everything he’s done today has been for you, and you couldn’t give a flying fuck. 

Joel puts on the movie, grabs his bent glasses from the end table and heads out to the garage without saying a single word to you. You wonder what bug crawled up his ass. 

-

My Cousin Vinny plays just fine until Vinny shows up in his ridiculous suit to the courthouse. The tape begins to skip a whole bunch, the movie barely making sense, and you have no idea how to fix it - not that it’s your job to know, anyway. So you call out the name of the man whose job it is. 

“Joel.” 

No answer. 

“JOELLLL,” you yell. 

Same deal. You sigh as you sit up and get off of the couch, walking to the garage door. There’s finally a break in your cramps and you’re feeling halfway-human for the first time since yesterday. Entering the garage, you find Joel sitting at his workbench, he’s working on bending the frame of his glasses back into shape. “Joel.” 

He doesn’t turn around to look at you and in fact, he heard you calling for him. He had just ignored you. “Looks like your legs are workin’ now,” Joel replies, without looking at you. “S’a miracle. Means you can follow me around now, terrific.”

You choose to ignore his sarcasm. “Whatever. You need to do something for me. The VCR is messing up and you have to fix it.”

“Hm,” he hums.

“What’s hm?” 

“I’ve fixed lotsa things for you today,” he says quietly. “I need some time to fix my glasses that you broke. S’a difficult task on account of the fact I need my glasses to see.”

“You can do me one favor, Joel. It won’t kill you.” 

Joel stops and gently places his broken glasses on his work bench. He turns to his right and glares daggers at you. “One favor,” he scoffs. “Oh, you’re a fuckin’ peach. You wanna try that again?”

“Try what again?” 

You’re fucking with him. You have to be fucking with him. Why are you fucking with him? You’re not antagonistic like this, not usually, so he concludes that you must be looking for a fight. At this point, Joel is too. 

“I’ve done you countless favors today, sweetheart,” Joel gripes.

“Yeah, but-” you begin.

Joel’s large, warm hand suddenly covers the lower half of your face, silencing your argument. “If the next words outta this mouth aren’t thank you, then I don’t wanna hear ‘em. In fact…”

He bites his inner cheek, nodding his head as he thinks. The way he stares at you, his dark eyes piercing through you - you feel the chill deep in your bones. A wave of clarity hits you as you recall some of the details of the day, the way Joel was there at every turn and while you were busy being cranky and achey, he was trying to wait on you hand and foot. Shit. You’ve been a Grade-A bitch to him all day, a total fucking cunt.

Breaking the silence, Joel finally clears his throat and continues his thought, “I’m gonna give you two options,” Joel says. “You can walk the fuck away from me, or you can get on your knees. Whichever you choose, you do so silently. Nod if you understand.” 

It’s like you’re watching a scene from a movie. You hear Joel’s words, but you almost don’t believe they’re real and so they don’t quite register. He pulls his hand away from your face slowly. Your mouth falls open a bit but you don’t say or do anything.

“Nod. If. You. Understand.” You nod quickly. Joel awaits your decision as you look at the garage door and contemplate your clean way out from this situation, “So what’ll it be?” he asks. Despite it all, that uneasy feeling in your gut, you drop to your knees anyway, eyes still lingering on the door before you look up at Joel. You trust him to take care of you and you think you might owe him this obedience after your behavior today. “You’ve earned yourself brownie points choosin’ the latter of the two options, but this still ain’t gonna be fun for you,” he says. It should scare you - and it does - but you’re still thrilled by it, by the way he sighs and his knees crack as he gets off of his barstool, by the cold look in his eyes as he reaches under his thick belly to unbuckle his belt. Standing above you, he pulls out his half-hard cock and pumps it, feeling it grow to full length in his hand. He’s thick, veiny, and generously sized, a pearly white bead of precum sits atop his slit. His cock is just an inch or two away from your mouth as he holds it between his fingers, his thumb on top and middle and forefingers on the underside. With his other hand, he cards his fingers through your hair and pulls you close, the tip of his cock pressing against your lips. “Open.”

You part your lips open and with that, Joel pushes himself into your mouth inch by inch. You smell him first, that musky and heady sort of scent. Next, you taste the saltiness of his skin and his precome on your tongue and for a moment it’s pleasurable, with his cock halfway in your mouth. You wrap your hand around the end of his shaft like you know what he wants but you don’t know, not really - Joel holds your hand in his own and squeezes it so that your knuckles grind against each other a little bit. He pushes himself further and you can’t lick him or savor this like you wanted to, you just feel his cock intruding, sliding into your mouth. Joel’s testing you, making sure that you can handle all of him and if you can’t, you know he’ll make you. 

He draws out of your mouth entirely only to force his way back in, making you gag and sputter. You attempt to pull away but Joel keeps his hand firm on your head and holds you right where he wants you. “Nuh-uh. I don’t know where you think you’re goin’, hon.” 

There’s no gentleness to it, he fucks your mouth heatedly so that you’re drooling and choking on him, your eyes springing with tears as that pressure builds behind them. “Breathe through your nose,” he reminds you. “In and out. You ain’t done jus’ ‘cause you’re cryin’.” Your lips are sore with the repeated action, your jaw is aching. He rolls his hips, his cock is deep down your throat as he relishes in your warm, wet mouth and the way it makes him feel. 

“Mmm,” you moan, you’re not sure if the noise is indicative of your pleasure or discomfort.

“Quiet,” he growls. “Heard fuckin’ enough outta you today. You keep quiet.”

Your nose is buried in that thatch of coarse curls as he rocks his hips over and over, his soft and pillowy tummy bouncing against your forehead. You squirm and whine as his tip teases the back of your throat and your mouth feels so full, uncomfortably so. Joel picks up on that. “Let it be a lesson to ya, then, if it hurts. That mouth ‘a yours has done nothin’ but bitch and moan at me today. S’a punishment, ain’t ‘sposed to feel good.” 

He’s grunting and groaning, eyes screwed shut as he uses you, pumping in and out of your mouth. Your jaw aches with the brutality of the way he fucks your mouth, and just as you think you can’t take anymore, you feel Joel’s cock begin to twitch and pulse. He comes in your mouth without a warning, painting your tongue with his hot spend. It’s salty and bitter and warm on your tongue. Once you’ve swallowed, Joel reaches down and yanks you up by your bicep. He thought fucking your mouth and coming down your throat would make him feel better but honestly, it doesn’t. As he looks at your face, all puffy with tears and swollen lips, he can’t quite find it in himself to let go of his anger. Not yet, at least. “Let’s go,” he grunts as he drags you with him towards the garage door. He marches you though the house and up the stairs. 

“Where are we going?”

“Bedroom,” Joel growls, answering your question like it’s obvious. You suppose it should be, but you figured he was done with you. But he’s not. The regret begins to set in when you realize the retribution you’re about to be met with for the way you’ve treated Joel today. You’d be lying if you said that while wallowing in your pain you didn’t notice how your curt tone got under his skin, hurt his feelings and frustrated him immensely. The dread you feel can’t save you, it’s all too late now. 

 “Because if I don’t fuck you,” he says, “Then I’m gonna strangle you. So which would you like?”

“Fuck me,” you whisper. 

“Exactly.” 

Joel pushes you into the bedroom and locks the door behind himself. “Lie down on your back,” he says. 

You protest, “But the sheets, Joel. The blood–”

“I will wash the fucking sheets. We can add it to the list of all the things I’ve done for ya today, hm?”

When you don’t jump at his request, Joel takes initiative. He pulls off your - his - shirt from your body and then bends you over the end of the neatly made bed, the old and worn comforter feels rough on the skin of your cheek. Joel pulls down your sweatpants and panties in one motion and then flips you over onto your back, your legs hanging off the end of the bed. You feel embarrassed when you catch a glimpse of your bloodied pad and underwear, moreso when you feel yourself making a mess on his bedding and between your legs. 

“You didn’t make yourself come today, did you?”

“Uhh–” you stutter. “I - I…”

“No point in gettin’ bashful now, darlin’. Just gimme an answer.”

“No,” you tell him. It’s been a while. 

“Figures.”

Joel had assumed sexual frustration had been playing a role in your attitude today. Cramps, headaches, all sorts of things going on with you and a needy, aching pussy to boot. He does feel sorry for you, but he feels sorry for himself too. It’s why he got his first, but now it’s time for you to get yours. An orgasm should set you straight, or two or three. Whatever he feels is necessary. 

Joel undresses himself before pushing your thighs apart and hitching your legs around his waist. Slowly, he slides his thumb through your folds and then circles your clit. He knows you’re vulnerable like this - bleeding pussy on display for him as you make a mess of his sheets. But he’s patient, and he massages your clit calmly until you finally let a moan, a little mmm slip. He smirks at that. 

He pushes his middle two fingers inside you, pumping in and out slowly. He then curls his fingers, searching for that sweet spot on a woman he loves so much. “Fuck,” you cry out, legs instinctually closing shut around him, and he knows he’s found it. 

“Don’t fight it,” he says, opening you back up. He curls his fingers and circles your clit in tandem, making all sorts of lewd noises with your cunt. He admires your body all laid out for him like this, your breasts and your pebbled nipples, soft tummy rising and falling with your breathy oh’s and ahh’s, thick curls framing your pretty pussy like a picture just for him. Joel takes his free hand and uses it to press down on your lower stomach, intensifying the feeling of it all. You come hard, gushing on his fingers as you whimper his name. 

Joel pulls his fingers from your core and wipes them haphazardly on his own torso. “Joel,” you gasp when you feel the thick head of his cock at your entrance.

“I am sorry,” he begins, notching his tip inside you and popping it out. He slides the blunt head through your folds and over your clit, then taps the sensitive part of you with himself. “That you’re in pain. It isn’t fair and I know that. But you’ve done nothing but take your hurt out on me.” He presses himself inside you again, “I’ve got a half a mind to take my own hurt out on you, y’know.” His voice is dark and angered, but he speaks calmly in a way that contrasts the darkness but maintains his authority all the same. “And I think I’m gonna.”

“Joel, I– ”

“Quiet,” he commands. He begins teasing your slit with his cock once more before he speaks, “So this is what we’re gonna do: you’re gonna take what I give you, however much or little it is. You’re not gonna cry or complain ‘cause you’ve done enough of that today. Right?” Joel pauses, “Nod your head.” 

 You obey his rule and nod, yes.

He drags his cock up and down your cunt again, the soft skin of your labia rubbing so nicely against his thickness. He notches himself inside you over and over again, pushing in a little bit deeper each time and pulling back out. You whine, rolling your hips in search of more. “I know, I know, sweetheart,” he coos at you to quiet you down. “You’re all out of sorts today. M’gonna fix it. I always fix it, don’t I?”

Yes. You nod again. Quiet.

“S’right,” he says. “Good girl.”

With that, Joel pushes his leaking cock into you entirely, one gradual slide that has you sucking in a breath that comes out in a strained sort of whimper. His hard, warm shaft parting your insides, filling you whole. Joel hears it in the way that you sigh, that this, this is what you needed. He rocks his hips once, twice. Experiments with shallow thrusts, inching his way in and out of you before he draws out of your pussy entirely only to thrust himself right back in, deeper and harder than before. 

With the fullness of Joel inside of you, everything seems to melt away - all that anger, misplaced or not. Joel’s rhythmic thrusting soothes you, sort of. The soreness of your body, the aching cramps in your abdomen are all gone as you focus on the in and out, the in and out. He builds a comfortable pace, but one that borders on too much too soon. His hands on your waist, pulling you towards him as he pushes into you in equal measure. 

He fucks you without discipline, no tenderness at all to the action with those sloppy thrusts, but you’re more lost in him than he is in you - he’s focused on your face, watching you make an ‘O’ with your mouth, and he’s focused on your bouncing body, your twitching thighs spread wide. Your moans, your whimpers and your whines, babbling nothing but nonsense. Joel’s brow is furrowed as he breathes heavily through his teeth, his soft body jerking above you as he hits that sweet spot inside you over and over and over…

“It’s all ya needed, isn’t it? The whole goddamn time,” he pants. “Didn’t need to go an’ bitch me out all day if you needed lovin’ like this. Woulda been nice f’ya just said so.” Joel reaches for your breasts, harshly squeezing the tender, sore flesh. You wince in pain and he loosens his grip, focusing on your nipples instead. He twists and flicks the sensitive buds and your moans become louder, more high pitched. Joel fucking loves it when that happens, you never realized. 

“Oh, Joel,” you moan, “Yeah, fuck.” 

With one hand still teasing your nipples, he brings the other to your pussy. A few strokes of his thumb on your clit is all it takes to send you over the edge a second time, wanton moans and choked sobs spilling from your lips as he fucks you through it. 

And fucks you, and fucks you. 

And keeps fucking you. 

It doesn’t end, he doesn’t slow himself and you never feel that come down, that descent from pleasure. It keeps going, like pressure with nowhere to go and you feel like you might break. “I can’t, I need you to stop, stop, Joel.”

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head, thrusting still. “You can take it, be a good girl. Gonna fuck you good and deep like you need. You brought this on yourself, anyway. Two more.” 

This whole time, he doesn’t stop. It’s so much at once and when you thought it was going to end, it doesn’t. Tears of overstimulation spring in your eyes and flow freely down your cheeks. Joel lets you cry because he knows you need it, he knows the release is good for you. You poor thing, how much you must be feeling right now, both physically and mentally. “It’s too much, Joel, I can’t,” you plead.

 “Always the tears with you, huh?” he taunts. “Always somethin’. Oh, I know. I know.” 

It’s the way you look at Joel that causes him to cave, eyes all wide and tear-stained. You’re spent and he knows it, what with all that your body’s put you through. You’ve had a rough day and though he did too, he can’t help but feel sympathy for you at this moment. “Oh, my sweet girl. What am I gonna do with you, hm?”

“I don’t know,” you sniffle. 

“Know you don’t, ‘n you don’t have to. S’my job,” he soothes. With his clean hand, he traces the side of your face and rubs his thumb over your cheekbone. “How about this, then - what are we gonna do next time you’re not feeling so good?” 

“I’m - I’m–”

“You’re gonna tell me what you need,” he instructs, “And you’re gonna ask for it. Nicely. So that means usin’ your manners. Please, Joel. Thank you, Joel. Remember those words?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “Yeah, I remember.”

 “But you forgot ‘em the whole day today,” Joel says softly. “I think you gotta learn to compromise, too,” he adds. The guilt had begun to set in before, but you really start to feel the burn now. You were unkind to Joel, and he’s been nothing but sweet, doting on every one of your needs. “I think an apology’s in order for the way you treated me today.” 

He’s right, and you know it. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Joel.”

“Oh, I know you are. You just needed the reminder, s’okay,” You hadn’t even noticed how his thrusting had slowed to a still until it picks up again slowly, as he presses kisses to you. Your cheeks first, then your lips. “I’ll compromise too - I’m only gonna make you come one more time, not two. Sound good? Sound fair?”

“I don’t think I can, Joel…”

“Yeah, you can, s’the last one. Take it good for me,” he encourages. “Take it good.” 

That’s what he repeats as his thrusts build again, fucking you deeply. Take it good, take it good for me. He hikes you up further on the bed and joins you so that he’s no longer standing at the floor, he’s got you pressed in half instead, your knees on either side of your chest and your feet above his shoulders. This angle intensifies everything and he knows, oh he knows how much it is for you. You’re tired, sore, overstimulated. But you’ll be done soon, he’ll be done with you soon. He takes your hand and wedges it between your bodies, pressing your own fingers to your clit, “Let go for me, I wanna feel you let go for me,” he says. “Focus right here. You’re gonna come with me, keep your eyes on me…”

You don’t even have to massage your clit, the way Joel angles himself has his body doing all the work, his pubic bone adding pressure to your fingers adding pressure to your clit. It’s intense, all of it - deeply energetic, overwhelming. You can’t quite discern your orgasm as it builds, there’s no definitive start but it’s powerful, devastating almost. Washing over you in waves, you feel it in the base of your spine first. You feel it in your gut, the backs of your thighs all the way to your toes. You hardly register that he’s coming with you, filling you deep with his come. His jaw is clenched tight and he’s groaning, grunting as he milks himself in you.

He leaves you there, whimpering, twitching on the bed. You hear the faint sound of running water, you figure he’s washing himself off. You’re surprised when he returns to you, pelvis covered in your blood, and scoops you right up in his arms. He helps you to your feet and on shaky legs, guides you to the bathroom. It no longer smells like bleach but instead, lavender. He’s got a candle lit on the sink and the bathtub is filled with warm, bubbly water. “Picked out a bubble bath for you earlier when I went out. Wanna test it out with me?” 

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “Yes. Please.” 

Joel sits in the tub first, spreads his legs and welcomes you to sit between them. He washes the blood from your poor, sensitive core and your thighs, washes it from his own body as well. When he’s done, he pulls you back into his chest and his hands find your breasts. “They’re tender, huh,” he murmurs into the side of your head. 

“Super, yeah. Sore.” 

“I’ll bet,” he says. He gently massages the tissue for you, his strong hands working you out in a way you can’t quite do. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

Joel chuckles. “Bout fuckin’ time you thanked me,” he says. “You’re welcome.” 

If you enjoyed, please reblog with thoughts, leave me a comment, or send me an ask! Your words motivate me to keep writing for you all 🩷

Least helpful cats award goes to these two 👇 if you’ve ever wondered what takes me so long to put fics out, it’s this. I try to write and I’m cockblocked by these fuzzballs.

[janeyseymour]

A Piece Of Paper

Summary: You and Melissa have been dating for a while. Marriage isn't necessarily the plan. Who needs a silly piece of paper to solidify the relationship anyway?

WC: ~4.2k

After dating Melissa Schemmenti, second grade teacher at Willard R. Abbott Elementary School, for about a year, the two of you decide to finally jump the gun and move in together. It took a bit of convincing on your end, but eventually, she welcomed the company and companionship that you brought with you. Living together didn’t mean you were married after all. 

You’ve been living together for two years now, dating for three. It’s a nice situation to be in. Neither of you are particularly ready to get married, each of you for your respective reasons. The topic had come up when you moved in, and you came to an agreement that you were more than satisfied just being partners… life partners. The weekday routine of waking up together, occasionally showering together before getting on with your days, breakfast, heading to work, coming home to your person, and then relaxing before heading to bed and starting the cycle all over again is warm enough. But your weekends are always slow, steady, full of comfort and contentedness to do everything or nothing at all. This relationship that you have with Melissa is all you’ll ever need in life- married or not.

It’s a day where you have off and your girlfriend conveniently has a professional development day that, while you are still more than content with your lifestyle how it is, Melissa’s thoughts and views begin to change. 

Because Ava doesn’t have anything against you (you would even venture to say the principal of your girlfriend’s school likes you), you’re able to enter the school during lunch hours and share a meal with your girlfriend and her coworkers. They all adore you, but it does confuse them how someone like you could be dating someone like the redheaded woman. You’re calm and level-headed, and they’ve seen Melissa in her fits of rage. Regardless, they support your relationship wholeheartedly and eagerly.

“So,” Jacob hums loudly as he practically stares down his two coworkers that he’s closest to. “Does anybody have any big news to share with the group?”

You just roll your eyes in good nature at the secondary education teacher. He’s always so nosey, but he means well. You steal another bite of your girlfriend’s lunch, despite the fact that you have the exact same dish in front of you.

Janine and Gregory each share a look, before the shorter woman breaks out into a grin. “We actually do have some news… Thank you, Jacob.”

Jacob looks quite proud of himself, and it’s immediately clear to the rest of the room that this was an orchestrated act.

“So, Janine and I were talking last night, and…” Gregory nudges his girlfriend.

Janine holds up her left hand, and there’s a sparkling ring sitting on her ring finger. “We’re engaged! We’re getting married!”

Immediately, the group of teachers erupts into cheers, shouting their congratulations. It’s all a bit hectic for a few minutes as everyone tries to get a glimpse at the rock before it dies down.

“Damn, Eddie,” Ava looks him up and down once she’s seen the ring. “If I had known this is what I could’ve gotten, I woulda flirted with you way harder than I did.”

“And I would have happily reported you to HR,” Gregory replies with a satisfied smirk. “But thank you. I did what I could.”

“As you already know,” the second grade teacher smiles and claps her hands together. “Abbott is family to us, so of course you’re all invited to the wedding. We haven’t set a date yet, but we’re thinking sometime next year?”

“We’ll all be there, sweetheart,” Barbara puts in warmly. “We’re all very happy for the both of you. What a wonderful step the two of you are taking.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Janine so excited, and that woman is always practically bouncing off of the walls with energy.

But then the naive and in love woman looks to you and Melissa. “When do you think the two of you will be getting married?”

“This is your day,” you tell her gently. “Let’s keep the attention on you.”

“But I’m curious!” Janine argues. “I mean… I would love to have a double Abbott wedd-”

“Yeah, no, kid,” Melissa cuts in. “I love ya, don’t get me wrong, but I would rather die than have a double weddin’.”

“Besides,” you say as you lay a gentle hand on your girlfriend’s knee. “We don’t really see a need to get married. We live together, we’re happy together, and we don’t necessarily see the need to have a piece of paper solidify our relationship. But we are truly so happy that the two of you have decided to tie the knot.”

The rest of lunch is buzzing with questions about the engagement and talks of what Janine has already mentally planned for what she and Jacob are describing as ‘the wedding of the century’. Gregory just looks at his fiancee with a love in his eyes that you recognize as the way that Melissa looks at you. Every once in a while, he will interject his opinion though because some of Janine’s plans are a bit over the top.

“Hun, we can’t afford that,” the man says quite a few times. “Not on our teacher salaries.”

His objections don’t deter her in the slightest. She just smiles at him and nods along, claiming she’ll find a lower budget option with the same amount of pizazz. You listen, quietly amused, while your girlfriend takes in the conversation around her. For once, she doesn’t offer up any sarcastic quips. You chalk it up to her not wanting to ruin the moment for Janine and Gregory, but what you don’t know is that Melissa is deep in thought about engagements and weddings, marriage. The way that you so casually explained that you probably would never be married struck a chord in the redhead. She almost sees it as a challenge now to get married.

After about fifteen more minutes of chatter, the teachers have to find their ways back to their classrooms for the rest of the day to prepare and go through the rest of their data while you have to find your way out of the school.

“I’ll see you at home?” you ask sweetly.

When your girlfriend doesn't quite respond, you set a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Honey? I’ll see you at home?”

Only then does Melissa seem to understand that you’re speaking directly to her. “Y-yeah. I’ll see you at home, mi amore.”

She kisses you warmly, and then you grab your purse and exit, calling goodbye to your girlfriend’s coworkers as you make your way out.

You’re lounging on the couch with your book in hand when Melissa comes into the house from work. She kicks off her shoes, and she’s practically straddling your lap before she even drops her bag on the floor next to you.

You kiss her back passionately before pulling away with a giggle and a rosy tint to your cheeks. “Oh!” you giggle out as she continues to chase your lips. “My love, not that I’m not enjoying this, but what did I do to deserve this greeting?”

She doesn’t answer, instead just kissing you with desire and hunger- she’s being greedy. You can’t do anything but give in to what she wants, but air quickly becomes a necessity.

Her eyes are blown wide with lust for you, but you know you have to get her to talk to you before you can do anything else. “Baby? What’s going on?”

“I’m just so damn in love with you,” she mumbles as she starts to graze your neck with her lips and teeth. 

That’s all you need to hear before you allow her to lower you to a laying position on the couch, throw your book haphazardly, and have her way with you.

It’s a bit later that your legs are still shaking just slightly, but you’re clean and your clothes are back on. Your girlfriend just nuzzles into your hold, humming as she cards her fingers through your hair gently.

“My girl,” she whispers as she dots a few sweet kisses to your head. “Mine.”

“That I am,” you chuckle softly, still in somewhat of a haze after the mind-blowing couch sex. “What’s got you acting like this?”

“Just a day,” Melissa tells you as she kisses you again on the lips. Then she sighs. “Can we just call for delivery? I’m exhausted, an’ I don’t feel like cooking.”

You don’t quite know if she’s exhausted from the professional development day, or if she’s exhausted from the effort she just put in to satisfy you, but you hum and nod your agreement.

“Chinese?”

“Chinese,” you agree.

As you’re waiting for the food to come, your girlfriend decides that she needs to shower. You lounge in the living room, feet tucked beneath your figure, when your phone begins to ring. It’s your mother. Of course it’s your mother. With a heavy sigh, you reach for the ringing device on the coffee table. 

“Hey, Ma,” you answer.

You can hear how delighted she is that picked up. “Hey, sweet girl. Just calling in to check up on you. It’s been a while since I’ve heard from you.”

“I called you yesterday,” you deadpan.

You can practically see your mother shrug into the phone. “And a lot could’ve happened in a day!”

You can’t help the laugh that comes tumbling out of your mouth before you begin to fill her in on your day. You tell her how you were off from work so you were able to sleep in, and then you went to Abbott for lunch with your girlfriend.

“Oh, and how is Mel?” your mother asks.

“She’s good,” you promise. “Tired after today, so she’s in the shower, but I’m sure she’d tell you hello if she were here.”

“Good. The two of you need to come up for dinner sometime soon. Your dad and I aren’t getting any younger, you know.”

“I’ll talk to her,” you promise. “Oh! You know what did happen at the school today?”

“What?” It’s clear that your mother is intrigued. She’s been to Abbott as a guest reader in your girlfriend’s class, and has therefore been privy to the redhead’s coworkers. 

Melissa exits the bedroom, wet hair still clinging to her pajamas when she hears you talking to who she can only assume is your mother on the phone. Usually, she would walk right into the room, calling out a greeting as she takes her place beside you. But something in her stops herself, and she listens to your words just out of eyeliner.

“You remember Lis talkin’ about her coworkers, Janine and Gregory?” At your mother’s hum, you continue. “They got engaged. Wedding next year.”

“Oh how wonderful for them. Let them know I said congratulations,” your mother smiles into the phone. “Hey, when can I expect the two of you to finally pull your heads out of your asses and get hitched already? I want grandkids, you know.”

“Ma,” you sigh and roll your eyes. “You know Lis and I aren’t really planning on getting married.”

“And why would that be?” your mother pries, despite the fact that she’s well aware of the reasoning. 

“Because,” you chuckle. “I’m in no rush, if at all. And Lis has done marriage and divorce before. She don’t want to get married again, and that’s more than okay with me. Besides, we live together. She’s practically my wife as is. Who says we need a silly little paper to tell us that we’re together forever?”

“All I’m sayin’ is, I want grandkids. And you could use the insurance from the school- yours is shit. You can only claim it if you’re married. And, God forbid anything happen to either of you…”

“Ma, we already have all of that sorted out,” you try to reason with your mom. “We’re in a place where we’re content. I wish you could be happy with how we’ve chosen to live our lives.”

“I am!” your mother protests. “You know I adore Melissa, but I want grandkids!”

“I can give you grandkids without being married, Ma. But don’t hold your breath. I’m in no rush to have kids, if I have any at all. And Lis is practically a mother to twenty five children as it is with her job.”

Something in your mother finally gets her to relent. “I suppose I’ll just have to move onto your sister.”

“Yeah,” you snort out. “You do that, Ma. Just don’t tell her I sent you her way.”

“Oh, you know I’ll be sure to tell you you sent me to her,” your mom teases you.

You roll your eyes. “How are you and Dad?”

Melissa sees this as a good opportunity to enter the room, with your mother telling you about her day and what she and your father got up to today.

“Ma?” she whispers. You nod, and during a brief pause, the redhead calls her greeting into the phone.

“Mel!” your mother grins into the phone. “How are you dear?”

“Just fine, Nel. Tell Rick I said hey too when you get a chance.”

“I will dear,” your mom promises. And then she’s off and telling you more about her day. She chatters on for a few minutes before the doorbell rings. It’s your food.

“Ma?” you interrupt her gently as she tells you about the chronicles of her canasta game. “I hate to go, but our food just got here, and I’m starving. I’ll call you soon, yeah?”

Melissa stands to answer the door as your mother reluctantly lets you go, but only after quite a few promises of calling her again soon- coming up for a visit.

The redhead is already sorting out your food from the bag when you’re finally able to end the phone call, and she looks to you with a smirk. “Just a catch up call?”

“Just a catch up call,” you groan. “Woman acts like she hasn’t talked to me in years when I called her yesterday. She says to tell Janine and Gregory congratulations by the way.”

Melissa nods and hands you your pair of chopsticks and food before grabbing her own. You gently drape your legs over her lap with a smile, and green eyes are rolled fondly.

“So, anything else happen once I left Abbott today?” you ask.

Your girlfriend huffs. “Yeah. Loads of bullshit, that’s what happened today.”

She launches into some story about Ava and the data analysis, how the way that they retained their reports was deplorable- a school to prison pipeline really. You can’t help but chuckle at the way she explains the details, loudly and with lots of emotion. Your eyes go soft as you remember just how in love you are with the woman in front of you. The way that she cares about her students and her employment so much is… she goes above and beyond, really.

“Oi,” Melissa nudges you. “I’m over here talking about the school to prison pipeline, an’ you’re giving me lovesick puppy dog eyes. What the hell?”

You lean up and kiss her sesame chicken stuffed cheek gently. “I just love how passionate you are about your job and your kids. It’s really admirable. I wish I cared about my job that much.”

“You know what else I’m passionate about?” your girlfriend chuckles quietly and winks at you. Then she wiggles her eyebrows.

“Jesus, Lis. Always thinking about sex,” you roll your eyes, but a smirk is evident on your face.

“You’re sitting here in booty shorts and a sports bra with your legs draped over me, and I’m not supposed to be thinking about sex?” Melissa challenges.

“We had sex before the food got here. Eat your dinner,” you roll your eyes once again as you pick up another piece of broccoli with your chopsticks. 

The two of you finish you meals in relative silence as the television plays softly in the background, your girlfriend in her head and thoughts about what had been revealed earlier that day in the staff room, and then what she had overheard while you were on the phone with your mother. 

It’s not much later that the two of you are heading to bed, and Melissa just can’t keep her hands off of you- and not in that way. You know that you were joking about sex earlier, but you’re both so exhausted you don’t even know if you could manage right now without falling asleep. Her arms are just wrapped around your frame as you brush your teeth, as you comb your hair and take off your makeup. Her chin rests gently against your shoulder blade, and you feel a soft kiss being pressed to it. She doesn’t detangle herself from you even as you make your way into the bedroom. The only time that she lets you go is when you crawl into bed. Still, almost immediately once you’ve settled under the covers does she attach herself to your side again. Her head rests gently on your chest, red hair splayed out underneath of her.

“I love you,” Melissa whispers softly.

You press a warm kiss to her temple, muttering out a soft, “Love you too, Lis,” before you allow your eyes to flutter shut and sleep to take you away.

While you’re sound asleep, your girlfriend stays up for some time thinking about everything that had taken place today. Is… should the two of you get married? Your mother made a few good points. She knows you want kids at some point, and being on her insurance would probably beat the shitty insurance that the district offers her. And God forbid something happen to her, she would want you to be taken care of- you would get the house, her belongings… everything. But what you had said was true- the two of you were practically married as is. You’ve been together for three years, you live together, you’ve been through good times and bad. You don’t need a paper to prove to the world that you love each other.

But… she finds that she wants that stupid piece of paper. Melissa realizes that calling you her partner, her girlfriend, the love of her life that she isn’t married to just isn’t enough. She wants to have the privilege of introducing you to new people as her wife, as Mrs. Schemmenti. And she can’t do that if the two of you aren’t married. Silently, she decides that she might just have to fix this situation she’s found herself in.

The two of you wake up in a warm and sleepy haze. Melissa’s arms are wound tightly around your waist, her face practically in your chest from when you had turned in your sleep. Your legs are tangled with hers, and you’ve never woken up so warm and light.

“Good morning,” you whisper as you kiss her nose softly.

She just smiles. “Waking up next to you everyday, it’s always the best part of my day.”

“Stop trying to charm me,” you chuckle. “You already got the girl, and there’s no way that my bedhead and morning breath is the highlight of your day.”

Green eyes are soft and full of love as she looks into your own. “I promise you, my love.”

You lean in to kiss her.

She’s clingy the rest of the day, like how she was last night. And while it’s not unwelcome, it isn’t quite like your girlfriend. Yes, she likes to touch you- she’s usually not all that far from you while you lounge around the house on a lazy Saturday, but today you can’t seem to escape her hold. And if you do, it’s because Melissa is up and getting you a cup of coffee, grabbing the television remote from the other side of the couch, or she’s draping a blanket over you when you shiver. But as soon as the task at hand is complete, she’s right back to you- arm draped over you, kissing your head, tracing patterns on your thigh as you read, just simply enjoying your presence. 

You let her do this in silence- you don’t mind it. But it does confuse you. For the morning, you simply chalk it up to still being exhausted from the previous day, but even a time where she should be refreshed and back to her normal self, she isn’t.

Finally, around two in the afternoon, you can’t quite keep it inside of you anymore. You have to know why she’s acting like this, and without an apparent reason.

“Lis?” you crane your neck to look at her. She’s currently sitting behind you and massaging your shoulders as you watch television.

She answers by dotting a few kisses to the slope of your neck.

“Lis,” you repeat again, and you have to fight the moan that wants to come out of your mouth. Her hands and lips are almost irresistible. “Honey.”

“I love you,” she whispers against your skin.

“I love you too,” you smile softly and turn in her arms. “But babe, I gotta ask: why are you so lovey today?”

“Am I not allowed to spoil my girlfriend?” Melissa asks you.

You chuckle and kiss her softly. “You definitely are, but… I’m not forgetting an important day for us or anything, am I?”

“You think I need a special day to show you how much I love you?” she retorts.

You shake your head. “Well, no, but-”

“I love you,” your girlfriend tells you. “That’s all.”

You chuckle and kiss her again. Although you don’t believe her, something had to have happened to have her acting like this on a random Saturday, you relent. “Okay, honey.”

You let her continue to be clingy- it’s not like you mind it. Melissa is always so hellbent on showing her tough side, and you absolutely melt at being privileged enough to see the walls come down and her heart show. She continues to shower you in words of affirmation, and the look in her eyes is a look of love, but it’s different from the usual love you see.

The two of you are cooking dinner in your loungewear when she takes hold of your left hand. She brings it up to her lips and kisses your ring finger specifically.

“Lis?”

She just hums in response before pulling you in close and continuing to tend to the pot that she’s stirring.

“Honey?” That was odd.

Melissa looks to you. “What?”

“What was that?” you ask with a raised brow.

She smirks at you before casually replying, “I think your left hand might look better with a couple rings on it, don’t you think?”

“What?” Your jaw drops at her words, spoken as if she was telling you about the most mundane things in life, not marriage.

Melissa kisses the side of your head. “I’ve been thinkin’.”

“Clearly,” you chuckle softly.

“Can I admit somethin’ to you? Without you gettin’ mad?”

Your brows furrow. “What did you do?”

Your girlfriend’s hands immediately go up in surrender. “Nothin’ bad, babe. I just… with Janine and Gregory getting married, your words about not needing a silly little paper did something to me. And then… yesterday when you were on the phone with your ma, I may have heard you tell her I was practically your wife anyway.”

“You are,” you confirm. “But I know you don’t want the legalities of it all, and I’m okay with that- I told you that when I moved in.”

“What if- what if I don’t want just ‘practically’ no more?” she asks hesitantly. “What if I want it officially, and to be able to introduce you as Mrs. Schemmenti, my wife?”

Your eyes widen slightly. “I mean…”

“I’ll put it to you this way,” Melissa sighs softly. She pauses to stir the contents of your meal again. “When… when I married Joe, I knew it wasn’t the fairytale I imagined as a kid. So when it didn’t work out, yeah- it sucked. The circumstances made it suck a lot more. But… I don’t feel that way with you. I feel like everyday is a dream when I wake up beside you. You’re the… the miracle I’ve been waitin’ on.”

Tears begin to spring to your eyes at her vulnerable and meaningful words. “R-really?”

“Really,” she whispers as she kisses your head again. “An’ I’m not sayin’ we need to rush anything, but I… I think we should think about next steps. Ring shopping, an engagement, maybe a small, low-key wedding?”

You nod against her. “I- I think you’re on to something.”

When Monday rolls around and Melissa, now your fiancee, walks into the staff room of Abbott Elementary with a sparkling ring on her finger… well, she can only smirk.

“I guess I want that stupid piece of paper after all.” And then when she sees Janine’s face, she quickly adds, “And no- we will not be having a double wedding."

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[thetetra]

So I actually did read it!

You obviously did not.

Lets take a few of your quotes and quotes from the article. "This article is intentionally leaving out information"

such as?

"Neither you or the article explain how this is the fault of pro-life legislation" --Although US abortion bans – which more than a dozen states have enacted in the two years since the supreme court overturned Roe v Wade – technically permit the procedure in medical emergencies, doctors across the country have said that the laws are worded so vaguely that they don’t know when they can legally intervene. Instead, many physicians say they have been forced to wait until a patient is on the brink of death – then attempt to pull them back. So poorly written legislation is delaying needed medical care and making what should be routine procedures more dangerous. and from the next paragraph

--Barnica went to the hospital with cramps when she was just over 17 weeks pregnant on 2 September 2021, the day after the Texas six-week abortion ban took effect, according to ProPublica. --Barnica’s cervix was dilated at nearly 9cm, a condition that left her vulnerable to fast-acting infections, ProPublica reported. Normally, in cases like Barnica’s doctors will offer medication to speed up labor or perform a procedure to empty the uterus. --But Barnica’s fetus still had a heartbeat. And under the Texas ban, doctors could not intervene unless a “medical emergency” – a term that was not defined in the law – developed.

So this VERY clearly is a law, as written, killing this woman. Like the only arguments here are if you dont understand what is going on.

--Within days, she was back at the hospital, where she died of sepsis involving “products of conception”, according to her autopsy report.

Just in case you were wondering that means the baby killed her.

--Multiple experts, including OB-GYNs and maternal fetal medicine specialists, told ProPublica that delaying Barnica’s care ran against the medical standard of care due to the risk of infection.

That bit means that medical experts knew what to do but werent allowed to. So now that we have clearly shown that you projected your own sin of ignorance upon me. Lets see if you had any other points to make.

"There is nothing about pro-life laws that prevented this woman from being treated. Abortion laws in Texas do not prevent miscarriage care." Article covered that... there was a heartbeat so no care could be provided due to the Abortion laws in Texas. "This woman could have been treated and should have been treated and any doctor worth their salt is well aware they could have helped this woman in any way they saw fit." Baby had a heartbeat so their hands were tied. You either didnt read the article, dont understand what you are talking about, or dont care what is written and just pray your audience wont read it. "So this is a case of you not knowing anything about the abortion laws and the media lying and you just believing them for some reason." Wait wait wait... did I not read the article or is the article lying? If these laws aren't preventing this necessary care then there should be a HUGE wave of malpractice lawsuits being taken out against these doctors who " committed malpractice when they saw an opportunity to be activists." So wait... your argument is that Doctors are sacrificing the lives of patients for political gains? That is a HUGE leap and requires more proof than you insinuating that it might be true. I could, with just as much likelihood, insinuate that you are suggesting such a thing in a completely baseless way because you want to hold on to your political views and win an argument despite facts. So please provide some sort of basis that makes your statement that political human sacrifice is happening in OB/GYN offices in (I think) 14 states across the nation.

[pedroscurls]

training partners (pt. 10)

summary: with your trainer's help this last week, you slowly find your way back to yourself again... and you finally have the courage to tell hugh more details about your relationship with jack and it only makes him angrier. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader warnings: angst - mentions of toxic relationship, verbal / physical abuse (not with hugh!). implied age gap (hugh is 55, reader is in late 20s-early 30s), no use of y/n. word count: 2.4k a/n: anyway, we're getting into the reader's backstory with jack, so it's going to be a bit dark... and consider this the first argument between reader and hugh... gonna be a tough next couple of chapters, but trust me when i say there will be a happy ending at the end of all of this! as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman. prev part.

You’d taken today off to drop your trainer off at the airport. This last week had gone too fast and while it was emotionally and mentally exhausting, it was just what you needed to remind yourself just how far you’d come. There’s still something lingering in the pit of your stomach, the anxiety that you’ll need to have a conversation with Hugh about everything that’s happened with you and Jack. He knows bits and pieces that you’ve shared before, but he doesn’t know the full picture. 

“You gonna be okay?” she asks. 

“I think so,” you nod. “I can’t let Jack run my life anymore.”

Your trainer pulls you into a hug, holding you tight. “You’re a good person,” she whispers. “And you never should have gone through what you did. He should have never put you through that.” 

You can feel tears stinging your eyes as you wrap your arms around her as well. She had been a godsend and so important in your journey in finding yourself again. She empowered you, motivated you, and helped you see just how worthy you are. 

When she pulls away, she smiles in your direction. “Hugh loves you,” she points out. “Allow yourself to be loved because you’re worthy of it. You’re enough.” 

You nod, wiping any fallen tears from your cheeks. “I just don’t want to disappoint him… What if he realizes that I’m not what he thought I’d be, that maybe all the pain I’m still working through isn’t worth it?”

She rolls her eyes playfully. “You don’t see the way he looks at you, do you?”  

You share your head. 

“Well, that man looks at you like you can do no wrong. Like you’re the only person that matters. Trust me, you are worth it.” 

“Part of me is also nervous… To talk to Hugh and tell him everything. He knows bits and pieces, but…”

“He’ll understand,” she replies. 

“And if he doesn’t?”

“He will.” 

You sigh and then pull her in for another hug. “Thank you for coming here, for being there for me. Again.” 

She lets out a quiet laugh and gives you a tight squeeze before she pulls away. “If Hugh wants to invite me back, let me know. I’d be happy to visit again,” she winks. 

“I’ll let him know. Get home safe.” 

“Remember how far you’ve come, okay?” she says. “And if Jack crosses any lines, it might be time to get the authorities involved.”

You nod in agreement. “I know… I just don’t want it to get to that point.” 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t.” 

—

Later that night, you’re sitting out on the balcony of the hotel room with a notebook on your lap. You had tried to write some talking points to go over when Hugh gets home. You know he’s going to be tired, but you know that if you don’t have this conversation with him, you may never will. 

You know he’s on his way back to the hotel and your heart races faster and faster. You can feel the anxiety course through your veins and even with the notes you had written down, you still don’t feel all that confident. It’s not the fact that you have to tell Hugh what happened, but it’s the fact that you’d have to relive everything that Jack had put you through. 

When you hear the hotel room door open, you stand up and turn to look over your shoulder and make eye contact with Hugh. He looks tired, but at the sight of you, his eyes light up and a broad smile lines his lips. This must be what your trainer was referring to… about the way he looks at you. It eases your nerves, calms you down and keeps you grounded because with Hugh, you have always felt safe. 

He steps out into the balcony with you and pulls you into his arms, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Hi, baby. Missed you on set today.” 

You smile to yourself and shut your notebook, setting it on the chair you were sitting on and away from his line of view. “I missed you too.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hands playing with the hair at his nape. “How was filming?”

“It was good. Movie’s coming along.” Hugh holds you closer to him, eyes falling shut as he holds you in his arms. This was what he was looking forward to all day. Being with you. He knows that this last week had helped a great deal, having your personal trainer here had helped immensely. You weren’t so much on edge anymore and it felt like things were going back to normal. Before Jack entered the picture. “And how was your day? You get home safe after dropping her off?” 

“Oh yeah,” you nod. “It was nice having her here. Thank you for doing that, baby. You really didn’t need to and–”

“I know,” he says quietly. “But I wanted to. I knew she would help… in ways that I couldn’t.” 

“I love you,” you smile. “I’m really lucky.” 

“I love you too, baby.” He pecks your lips and then slowly pulls away. “I’m gonna take a quick shower and maybe we can order in for dinner?” 

“Wait, Hugh…” 

“Yeah?”

“After your shower, can we talk?” 

Hugh’s brow furrows, biting the inside of his cheek as his hands move to rest on your hips. “What about?” 

“Just…” you bite your lower lip. “It’s nothing bad. I just–” 

Hugh tilts his head to the side. He can sense your worry, your anxiety, so he just nods and leans in to peck your lips lightly. “Okay, baby. We’ll talk after my shower.” As he turns to walk back into the room, you reach out for him and pull him back into a tight hug. Your face buries into his chest, arms tightening around his frame as you hold onto him for a few seconds longer. 

“You sure you’re okay?” he whispers. 

“I will be.” 

—

Hugh’s shower doesn’t last that long. He tries not to overthink about what you wanted to talk about, but he can’t help the tug he feels in the pit of his stomach. Now he’s worried, he’s concerned. He quickly changes into a pair of black sweatpants and a Global Citizen t-shirt. He dries his damp hair with a towel and steps back out into the room, seeing you still outside on the balcony. You’re writing in your notebook again and he knows that you only write when you have something on your mind, something that you can’t shake. 

Quietly, he steps out with you and smiles in your direction. Hugh watches you close your notebook, setting it on the small table. He doesn’t let you get up, instead, he scoops you into his arms and then sits in the same chair with you on his lap. 

“Okay, let’s talk, baby,” he says, leaning in to kiss your cheek as he drapes an arm over your legs. Hugh tries not to make it seem like he’s nervous and he isn’t even sure if you take notice because he can see that your mind has drifted, and can feel the tension in your shoulder blades. 

“Jack–”

“What?” 

You take a deep breath and move an arm around his shoulders. “I need to tell you about– about Jack.”

“Baby, you don’t have to–”

“I need to, Hugh.” 

He can see the tears in your eyes and a piece of his heart breaks at the sight. Hugh cups your cheek and gently brushes his thumb across your skin, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose. “Okay,” he says softly. “I’m here. I’m listening.”

You nod and bite your lower lip. “So, we were together for three years…” 

“That I knew.” 

“The– The abuse, the manipulation, everything happened so fast. I didn’t even realize what was happening until I realized it was too late.” 

Hugh tightens his jaw. He feels anger bubbling within him, but he opts to remain quiet, to keep a neutral look on his face. He knows that you need this, that you need to tell him and he can’t react because he fears that if he does, you’re going to pull away and he knows how important this is that you’re telling him. 

“I had gotten used to his insults… so much so that I started to believe him.” you’re about to get off his lap, about to pull away from him, but he keeps a firm hold on you. When you look into his eyes, all you can see is the concern in his features and the subtle desire to take your pain away. 

“Oh baby…” Hugh whispers quietly. 

“I’m weak and I’m not brave,” you continue. “And that’s because of Jack. I should have left at the first sign of his verbal abuse, but I always–” you can feel your breath catch in your throat. “I always justified his actions. Always felt like it was my fault, that he was acting the way he was and saying the things he’d say because of me. Because I was making things difficult for him.” 

Hugh tightens his jaw when you look away from him, the anger simmering in the pit of his stomach. 

“And I believed him. I thought– I thought I could give all of my love to him and he’d see how much I cared for him, how much I was willing to do anything for him. Because I did,” you say with a disappointed tone. “I did love him and when he broke up with me – he broke up with me –” you shake your head. “It was my fault. It was always my fault. Mine.” 

“Baby, no…” Hugh shakes his head and cups your cheek, his gaze locked onto yours. 

“I couldn’t even break up with him, Hugh. All of the nasty things he’s said to me and I couldn’t–” you shake your head and stand up from his lap before he can pull you back. “I was heartbroken when Jack broke up with me because he made me believe that no one would ever love me… that I wasn’t worthy of love and I fucking believed him.”

Hugh’s foot taps against the floor incessantly. He wants to reach out for you, but he always wants to find Jack and cause him just the same amount of pain – if not more. But then, he hears the words leave your lips and he jumps up from his chair. 

“He hit me once.”

“What?” 

“Hugh…”

“No no, he what?” 

You bite your lower lip and stare up at him. You can see the anger clear in his features and you gently reach out for him, but he just shakes his head. He’s fuming, hands shaking at his sides at your admission. You know this was going to happen, had even expected this reaction, but seeing it firsthand is entirely different. You don’t know how you can even calm him down. 

“I got angry because he had made me make him dinner after a long fucking day at work and–” you sigh. “After that, I learned how to fight because I knew that if he put his hands on me again, I’d fight back and–” 

“Wait, he hit you? Put his hands on you?”

“Hugh…”

“No, baby.” Tears are now pooling at his eyes. “He doesn’t get to do that, do you hear me? He has no fucking right–”

“Hugh!” you raise your voice, staring up at him. “I’m not telling you this to make you angry. I’m telling you this so you can understand why he had so much control over me, why I reacted the way I did when I saw him that one night at dinner, why it’s so fucking hard for me to see how worthy I am of this, of you.” 

Hugh shakes his head. He’s trying – truly, he’s trying so fucking hard to understand (and there’s a big part of him that does), but all he can see is this man putting his hands on you, putting thoughts and words into your mind that aren’t true. 

“Give me his number. The number he called you from a couple of weeks ago,” Hugh says. 

“No.”

“Baby, he can’t just get away with thinking that what he did to you was okay. He can’t get away with still making you feel the way that you do.”

“What are you going to do? Go and beat him up?” you ask, shaking your head. “Hugh, you’d get arrested! It’d be all over the media and–”

“I don’t care!” Hugh yells – it’s the first time that he’s ever raised his voice at you and when he sees you take a step back, it brings him back to reality. “I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I just– I can’t fathom this man walking around thinking like he did no wrong, baby.” 

“Nothing you do will help him see that, Hugh.”

“No? Well he hasn’t dealt with someone like me and–”

“Just stop!” 

Hugh furrows a brow. “Baby–”

“No, Hugh…” you cross your arms over your chest, wanting so badly to just get away from this all, away from Jack, away from Hugh. “I don’t need you to save me… I don’t need you to go back to my past and make things better. I just need you to understand the shit I went through is what made me who I am today. And I’m still healing… I’m still working on it, and I just–” your breath catches in your throat once more. “You’ve been so patient with me, so understanding that I figured I’d at least tell you everything because… because I will have moments where it’ll be hard for me to snap out of it.”

“I know, and I appreciate you telling me all of this, baby–” Hugh sighs. “But I can’t just sit here and not do anything about it.”

“You know what,” you tell him, opening the sliding door to walk back into the hotel room. “I’m gonna go for a walk. I can’t be here right now. This wasn’t how I thought this conversation would go.”

“Baby, no–” Hugh walks after you, watching you pull on a jacket and slip on your shoes as you grab your bag. “Please, just stay. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad at you,” you tell him quietly. “I just need some space right now.”

“I love you,” Hugh whispers. 

“I know,” you reply, grabbing the hotel key card and setting it in your bag. “I love you too, Hugh, but I just need to be alone right now. We both need to calm down before we say something we’re both going to regret.” 

You don’t give him a chance to respond because just as his mouth opens to say something, you’re already out the door. 

---

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[luvyeni]

⠀ ( drabble ) mines, all mines ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 黄仁俊 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ renjun is super affectionate with you , but he’s also jealous of haechan calling you pretty  ヾ

boyfriend!renjun・ reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ unprotected sex, jealous ‎ renjun, dirty talk wc ・ ‎0.5k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. dream being confused when jealous!renjun is affectionate and teases him for touchin u up when he doesnt do it with them so he fucks u for letting his friends flirt with u and stuff 😩‼️

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 i hope you like it <3 !!!

“baby.” renjun pulled you into his lap for like the fifth time that day. “baby i miss you.” you chuckled, running your fingers through his hair. “jun i’ve been here with you all day.” you smiled kissing the top of your man’s head.

“ew oh my god.” haechan said, fake gagging on your couch. “get a room, no one wants to see you two be all lovey dovey.” you rolled your eyes, renjun mumbled a bunch of insults under his breath. “you’re in my girlfriends apartment, i will touch her as much as i want, you get out.” he snapped, wrapping his arms around your waist. “jun stop.” you calmed him down.

“you know yn you have to be one of the luckiest girls in the world.” jaemin said. “really? why is that?” you questioned. “because you’re the only person in this room who’s ever had the joy of renjun affection.” you chuckled, your boyfriend on the other hand wasn’t amused. “shut up jaemin.”

“hey all im saying is you’ve never held us like that.” the boy held his hands up in defense. “because you aren’t fucking him thats why.” jeno said. “a pretty girl like yn, yeah i’d make sure to give her all my attention.” now you knew haechan didn’t mean any harm, but this seemed to piss renjun off. “hyuck, shut the fuck up.” you rubbed his shoulders to calm him down. “be calm im just saying you’re lucky to have a pretty girlfriend.” renjun knew you would never give him the time a day — but the way you smiled at the comment just made him mad.

“alright it’s time to go guys.” you could tell they were riling the boy up. “what? it’s still 15 minutes of the game left.” mark said, they all whined, complaining. “yeah, but if you guys keep going none of us will make it to the end.” they all groaned, getting up. “i know, i know.” you said guiding them to the door. “next week bring duct tape for hyucks mouth.” chenle spoke up. “next time we won’t fucking bring him.” you laughed. “is it a crime to call a pretty girl pretty?” you shook your head. “when her boyfriend is sitting right there?” jisung said. “yes.”

you closed the door on them; ready to turn to clean up their mess — instead you were met with your boyfriend. “jun?” he was standing there, and you could tell he wasn’t happy. “don’t be upset.” you tried to reason with him, but you could tell in his eyes he was already there, which made your stomach bubble with excitement. “bedroom. now.” you already knew what that meant.

“you think it’s funny?” he had your cheek pressed against your pillow. “wh-what junie?” he slapped your ass making you yelp. “don’t play fucking stupid.” he snapped. “smiling at haechan basically flirting with you, smiling like you’re so desperate to be fucked by him or something.”

“n-not true.” you stuttered out. “is it? cause you’re soaked, thinking about him fucking you?” the feeling of your boyfriend's cock teasing your hole. “no!” you said. “jun please fuck me.” you desperately pleaded with him to fill you with his cock. “please.”

you gasped feeling him enter you— making you take him fully. “shit.” he hissed, gripping your hips. “yeah , fuck he can’t fuck you like this.” he groaned , his cock dragging along your walls , bullying your gspot. “he can’t fuck you like the whore you are.” you moaned. “o-only for you.”

“fuck. that’s right, this pussy is only mine to fuck.” he groaned. “no one will ever be able to fuck you like i can.” you moaned out, his hand coming up to your hair, yanking it back. “understand me?” he gritted in your ear. “fuck jun yes!” you squealed , clenching around him. “fuck im not gonna last.”

his balls slapped against your clit , his head thrown back as he fucked into you. “fuck im gonna cum.” he moaned. “cum with me.” he demanded. “cum.” your head fell against the bed, body convulsing as you came. “shit.” he slammed into you, a song of curse words flowing from his mouth, his stomach tightening as he came. “oooh shit.” he dragged out as he painted your insides white, his body slumped over yours as you both searched for air , coming down from your blissful highs, kissing your neck down to your shoulders. “mines, mines, mines.” he repeated into your ear softly.

“you’re all mines.”

©️LUVYENI

[lavnderwonu]

So High School | Kim Mingyu

pairing: fiancé!mingyu x pregnant!fem!reader

rating: fluff, mature

genre: non-idol au, slice of life, established relationship

summary: you and your fiancé haven't discussed the idea of you having children, but with your wedding approaching, the idea of starting a family with him has been on your mind.

warnings: please read ALL! contains smut! not much but a little! (!!!) some time skips, reader gets pregnant, planned pregnancy, reader's mom loves mingyu, reader deals with morning sickness (for my fellow emetophobics this may be triggering!), minwon coworkers mentioned, smut warnings: creampie, unprotected sex, multiple rounds mentioned, backshots, fingering.

word count: 3k

AHEM! go listen to so high school by taylor swift (perhaps while you read!)

author's note!: i listened to taylor waaaay too much while i was writing this, as you can probably tell by the title 🫣 what can i say! guilty. my first time writing slice of life au! i had fun lowkey. AGHHH i just love writing cute mingyu esp when it involves future dad mingyu. the song lyrics are meant to be spacers for the time-skips btw! shoutout to @jenoslutie for also supporting my vision with this 💋 muah xo

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I feel so high school every time I look at you, I wanna find you in a crowd just to hide from you...

Mingyu was your dream man in many ways than one. The perfect boy to bring home to your parents, cooked delicious meals for you, and overall made you feel safe. 

You two had been engaged for months now, and wedding planning was well underway, the date set for early into the new year. As if it wasn’t stressful enough, your mom had already started questioning whether the two of you had wanted children, or planned to in the future. The answer was always the same,

“Mom, I don’t know… we haven’t talked about it into a lot of detail… maybe later on…” or “C’mon, we’re still young, Mom!” 

Mingyu didn’t know any of this, and you’d probably never tell him, not wanting him to feel pressured by your badgering mother. You both knew you wanted children eventually, but you never talked that far into the future.

But… you also thought… maybe you would want to have children, if it was with Mingyu. 

Mingyu would be the father to play dress up and makeovers with your daughter, have tea parties with her, or play with faux tools with your son and pretend to fix things, and play with plastic dinosaurs.

You couldn't picture anybody that would be more perfect to do it with than him.

Are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me? It's just a game, but really I'm bettin' on all three for us two...

Mingyu stands at the kitchen counter, cooking dinner like he usually does, and he usually insists since he gets home a little earlier from work than you do most days. 

You come from the kitchen after changing out of your work clothes to see him chopping garlic as a pot is boiling on the stove. 

“What are you making?”

“Agio e olio,” Mingyu responds, looking up to smile at you briefly. “I know it’s your favorite, and you said you were craving it.”

You smile, coming over to kiss him on the cheek quickly. “Thank you, you make it so good anyway.” You chuckle as he playfully rolls his eyes. 

He tosses the garlic in a pan on the stove, stirring it a little, then adds the pasta to the boiling water.

You decide now is the time to break your silence, and tell him what’s been on your mind lately.

“Gyu,” You speak up. “… I think we should talk about something.” 

“What?” Mingyu’s gaze turns to meet yours, a concerned look on his face, and you immediately want to kiss him and make it go away.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been thinking…” You pause, racking your brain on how to word what you’re about to tell him, also given that you didn’t want to scare him. “What do you think about us… having a baby?” 

You look up at his undeniable surprised expression; after all you did come out of nowhere with that statement.

“I mean, I know we haven’t really discussed it much, and we’re getting married in a few months… but I have been thinking about it a lot, and I want to, we’re at that age-“ You break out into a nervous ramble before he cuts you off.

“I’ve thought about it too. I thought it should be something that we should…you know… talk about.” Mingyu says.

“I don’t want to put any pressure on you, or I guess, on us.” You continue. “I know we’re not married officially yet, and our wedding isn’t until a few more months, but I don’t know, I think I want to.” 

Mingyu turns to you, smiling ear to ear in the adorable happy puppy way he typically does when he’s over the top excited about something. “I know, me too.”

“Does this mean… we’re trying?” You can’t even hide your smile, your cheeks hurt as you attempt to be the least bit nonchalant.

“Yeah… fuck… c’mere.” Mingyu pulls you closer to him, kissing you fervently.

You pull back, releasing his grip from your waist.

“Hey, after dinner,” You smirk, giggling at his eagerness. “You’re gonna burn your garlic.”

“Mingyu… I can’t, fuck-“ You whine, your face nearly buried into the pillow underneath you.

“Yeah you can baby…” Mingyu grunts, his hand slides up your back to push you down even more. “Taking it all like a good girl…”

You nearly collapse as you can barely hold yourself up anymore, and you’re being pushed forward almost to the headboard from the force of him behind you.

“I’m gonna come, ‘gyu.” You cry, your hand trailing down to rub tight circles on your clit, making your thighs tremble as you push yourself closer to the edge. 

“Go on baby…” Mingyu groans, feeling you get tighter around him. “Cum all over my cock like a good girl.”

You cry his name again as he pushes you over the edge, white-knuckling the sheets as he keeps thrusting inside you, almost even harder.

“Fuck…”  He groans as he slows down, stilling before he comes inside you.

He pulls out, watching himself drip out of you briefly as he curses under his breath, before he pushes it back inside you with two fingers, making you whine.

“Sorry, baby…” Mingyu sweetly apologizes.

You flip over on your back, pulling him down to kiss him.

“I wanna go again…” You say against his lips, pushing his sweaty long hair back.

“Really?” He asks sweetly, leaning down to kiss your neck a few times. “Wasn’t too much?”

“Never…”

Truth, dare, spin bottles, You know how to ball, I know Aristotle Brand new, full-throttle, Touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto...

The next few weeks were just the usual. Going into work during the day, shopping for the wedding with your sister, … Mingyu practically never leaving you alone, but that you wouldn’t complain about.

“What kind of flowers are you guys doing?” Your sister asks you. The two of you made plans to get coffee, and you guys typically talked about whatever. She always voiced her opinion on your life whether it was boyfriends, career moves, and now: your wedding.

“White lilies; one of my favorites. Mingyu said I could just pick what I wanted, he’s happy with whatever I choose.” You say.

“That’s sweet,” She smiles, stirring her matcha latte. “Even though, he probably doesn’t care.” She chuckles.

“You’re probably right, I think he has other things on his mind other than flowers.” You laugh, only you know what you mean by that. 

You never told her the both of you had been trying to have a baby.

“I’ve always liked him, though, you know that.” She smiles. “If there’s anybody you marry and spend forever with, i'm glad it’s him. He’s just right for you.”

You smile, glancing down as your gaze flickers on your sparkling engagement ring under the coffee shop lights.

You’re definitely glad it’s him.

“Do you mind if we go into the grocery store down the street? I need to just run in and get a few things.” She asks you.

You nod. “Yeah, that’s fine. I could probably use a few things too.” 

“How do you know if a watermelon is a really good one?” She asks you, as the fruit by the entrance catches her eye.

“You’re asking me?” You laugh. “I have no idea, I have heard though if they’re a dark green, it’s too watery.”

“You were always good at picking them, I know Mom used to always say that.” She replies. “Maybe I won’t get one, are they even in season?”

“Probably not, it’s November. Anyway, what did you need here?” You say, grabbing a hand basket for yourself.

“Just usual stuff, yogurt… eggs, oat milk, some strawberries… whatever else I find that I think i need.” She says, placing strawberries and avocados in her cart. Already straying from the list. 

You follow her, bagging up some apples, cucumbers, and brussel sprouts into your basket. 

You’re both wandering down the ice cream aisle, as you’re grabbing whatever pint of peanut butter ice cream you can find, when your sister speaks up.

“Oh! Let’s go to the hygiene section, I need to get some tampons. That time of the month soon.”

You pause, ice cream in hand, suddenly racking your brain trying to remember when the last time your period was. A few weeks ago? Last month? Were you supposed to get it? Were you late?

“Y/n…? What’s wrong? Everything okay?” She asks, seemingly able to read your inner monologue going on in your head. 

“Y-yeah…” You reply, placing the ice cream in your basket, all while your heart is still racing. Was it joy? Nervousness? “It’s just… I can’t remember the last time I had my period…”

I'm watching American Pie with you on a Saturday night Your friends are around, so be quiet, I'm trying to stifle my sighs 'Cause I feel so high school, Every time I look at you...

“I feel bad doing this without him,” You say, staring down at the two blinking pregnancy tests on the counter. “Mingyu should be here…”

“He’ll be home from work soon won’t he? You’ll tell him then. C’mon, he’ll understand, practically sister code for me to be the first one to know.” She replies, checking the time on her phone. 

It’s true, you both always did tell each other everything before you told anybody else. 

“It’s almost time.”

“I can’t look.” You anxiously turn away. “It’s killing me.”

“How did this happen?” She asks. “I mean… not to be nosey….”

“Well we talked about it, and we’ve been kinda… sorta, trying to get pregnant.” 

“What?! How come you didn’t tell me you were?” She exclaims, playfully shoving you.

“We decided to about a little over a month ago. We talked about it, we decided it was something we both wanted,” You start, just as her phone timer goes off, you quickly turn around from the counter. “Oh my god, oh my god, I can’t look.”

“I’ll do it first,” She says, shoving her way in front of you. “Oh my god… y/n…” You can hear the excitement and smile in her voice.

You turn around, facing the two tests.

You see it, “pregnant”, displayed clearly on both.

“Oh my god, I don’t,” You almost stutter, lost for words. “I- I don’t know what to say.”

“Good news?” She asks.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” You smile, suddenly becoming teary, feeling a bunch of emotions at once. Excitement. Nervousness.  “I just- fuck… I wish Mingyu was here. I didn’t want to find out like this.”

“Relax, you’ll tell him later,” She laughs. “Especially ‘cause I know you won’t be able to keep this from him long.”

“No, you’re absolutely right. There’s no way I’m holding it in.”

And in a blink of a crinkling eye I'm sinking, our fingers entwined Cheeks pink in the twinkling lights Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me...

You spend the evening trying to decide elaborate ways that you’ll tell him. 

Putting a test in a gift bag as a present? Corny.

Hiding it somewhere and letting him find it? Too lame.

You decided to literally just come right out and tell him, especially because you didn’t want to figure out some cliche way of getting it out.

Mingyu comes home from work, greeting you as he walks in the door, adorably kissing your forehead as he wraps his arms around you, perfectly engulfing you.

“How was your day, honey?” He sweetly asks you, genuinely curious as he’s awaiting your answer. 

“It was good actually, I had coffee with my sister, then we went to the grocery store, doesn’t sound like much but we had fun.” You lean up and kiss his lips, smiling.

“But it’s better now that you’re here.” 

Mingyu smiles, kissing you again.

“I’m going to get changed really quick, okay?” Mingyu says.

You jokingly pout. “Aw, but you look so nice in your slacks and button up shirt… at least let me savor it.” You reach up, undoing a few buttons on his shirt.

“Enjoying this?” Mingyu chuckles.

“Yes, very.” You smile.

“Well I was gonna ask you, if you wanted to, Wonwoo and Seungcheol asked if we wanted to go out and get dinner with them, and hang out maybe get some drinks.” He continues, before he starts walking off to your shared bedroom to change, as you follow him. “Wonwoo asked me before I left the office.” 

“I don’t know… maybe?” You reply, hesitating a bit.

Meanwhile your mind works a mile a minute trying to think of how to break this news of yours to him.

“It wouldn’t be until a little later, if that’s better. No rush.” Mingyu says, nonchalantly unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off. What a distraction. 

He slips on a white t-shirt , and gray sweatpants; his usual after work attire. Suddenly you wonder if whatever you have to tell him is really that important anyway, and you immediately consider just saying “forget it” and fucking him right here in the early hours of the evening. What’d be the big deal? You were already pregnant, anyways.

No! You quickly shake that thought from your mind, refocusing.

“Gyu,” You start, getting his full attention. “There’s something… I have to tell you something.”

“What?” 

“I’m not even really sure how to tell you, um hang on,” You continue, leaving the room quickly to retrieve one of the pregnancy tests you’d left in the bathroom. 

You come back, very obviously holding something behind your back.

“I guess I should say I kind of have a surprise to tell you.”

“What? What?” Mingyu asks, eager already by the way you’re already smirking, unable to contain yourself.

“It’s, um, this…” You start, pulling the test from behind your back. “I didn’t know how to tell you, I was gonna plan something but I couldn’t wait.” You laugh, smiling ear to ear.

Mingyu takes it from you, seemingly uncaring, or forgetting, that you literally peed on the thing. His mouth drops opened, in awe.

“Oh my god…” He speaks, beaming. “When did you find out?” 

“Today, actually.” You say. “I wound up taking a test, and… yeah.” 

You sigh. “I feel so weird about it, I know I was expecting it but I feel so excited and nervous at the same time.”

You glance up at Mingyu, and you see him still examining the test in his hand.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mingyu nods, his eyes meeting yours and you see he’s now smiling. “I’m just… happy, surprised..”

“I mean, cmon, what were we really expecting…” You joke, blushing.

“You know what I mean, it’s still crazy to me.” Mingyu comes closer to you, kissing you. 

“Yeah, it sure is…” You smile up at him. 

“It’s okay, honey,” Mingyu reassures you, speaking softly. “Just get it out…”

Mingyu kneels behind you on the cold tile floor, holding your hair back as you’re hanging your head over the toilet as your stomach empties its contents.

“There you go…” 

You wonder how he can even stand to be in the bathroom with you, if the roles were reversed, you’d be outside the door nearly gagging.

“Are you okay?” Mingyu asks, helping you sit up, as he wraps his arms around you to keep you steady. 

You slowly nod as you flush, still feeling a touch of nausea. “Yeah, can you just- just stay here for a little bit.” 

Mingyu sits on the tile floor as he leans against the bathtub, and he guides you back to sit in front of him.

You lean back into him, and he leans down and kisses your shoulder. You catch a glance at his watch on his wrist even in the dim light of the very early morning.

“Oh my god, Gyu, is it really 5am?” You groggily ask, feeling sorry. “You have to work in the morning, don’t you?”

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s not a big deal.” Mingyu reassures you. “I can always go in a little later, I wanna make sure you’re okay.” 

“…I think I’m good now,” You say, starting to stand up slowly, as Mingyu helps you all the way. “…You know, I have heard that the more nauseas you are, it probably means you’re having a girl. And if you have none at all, it’s probably a boy.”

Mingyu chuckles, “Where do you come up with this? Is that even a thing?” 

“The internet… you know, social media. Everything’s on there.” You protest.

“You’re delirious,” Mingyu playfully rolls his eyes. “Cmon, let’s go back to bed.”

“Gyu, we have to leave in like an hour,” You say, as you’re getting ready in the bathroom, finishing up your final touches on your hair. “I don’t want to be late for dinner at my parents house.”

Mingyu stands in the doorway now, “This okay?” He shows off a navy blue polo shirt and black jeans. 

“Yeah, honey, you look nice.” You smile. “Besides, you could wear anything around her, she adores you anyways.” 

It was true. Your mother would always be calling Mingyu to help around the house when your Father was away on a business trip. She needed help fixing something? She’d call Mingyu. She needs help building a side table? You bet she’s calling Mingyu. His height was also a bonus, being able to reach things stored higher up.

Mingyu smiles at you adoringly, as his eyes trail down your body.

“What?” You ask when you notice him.

“You’re starting to show a little,” He smiles. “You look cute.”

You giggle, placing your hands on your stomach. “Yeah I know, she wants to be seen now, she’s done hiding.” 

“Well, are my girls ready to go?” Mingyu smiles, kissing you. 

“Yeah,” You giggle, smiling as you kiss him again. “Let’s go.” 

It's true, swear, scouts honor You knew what you wanted and boy, you got her.

tags: @jenoslutie @wonuwrites @aaniag @cosmojinyoung