#bad brains sabbatical

[creadigol]

I wanted to write a civilian story and this is what came out of my brain. I hope y’all like!

Warnings: Mentions of a violent encounter with a pretty creepy bad guy. 

The body floated, bobbed one might say, aimlessly in the expensive botanical garden’s pond. With the amount of algae in the water it was a wonder Civilian had seen the thing at all, let alone recognize the figure. 

But recognize the figure they did… and it made the horrific sight all the more terrifying. 

Civilian bit back a scream as the bloated body floated closer to them. 

Bloated…that meant the body had been in there for at least a day right? At least that’s what all those cop shows said…Civilian was a historian, not a doctor…oh god it was getting closer!

Civilian clutched their messenger bag close to their chest and backed away from the pond. Five minutes…five minutes was all it took to scar them for life. Five minutes to change everything Civilian thought they knew about their gracious hosts at the historic hotel. 

God, they were such a fool. 

They had their suspicions. Of course they did, but when  the opportunity came to stay at the very place they had spent years researching came up…there was no question. They had a sabbatical coming up anyway, where better to have it than on the actual location? 

But now…

The body was face down, but it was no question who it was, and who had done this. Villain had been threatening the Senator for months, it was all over the news. But how did Villain know the Senator was staying in this specific hotel in England? Hell, why was Civilian’s timing so terrible?! 

There was a rustling in the bushes to their right. Civilian whipped their head around hoping against hope that the sound was the normal squirrel or bird one would find in a botanical garden. 

The rustling stopping as soon as Civilian looked over. They caught a glimpse of something metallic reflecting the sun…so, not an animal then.

Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god. 

Maybe Civilian could play it off as if they saw nothing? Just glance away and find the path back to the hotel where there was a cell signal and they could call for help. That was good, now they just needed to look away.

 Shit, why were they so frozen? 

They slowly edged backwards towards the tan gravel path. Civilian couldn’t help but keep looking at the bush, waiting for whoever was in there to strike. As soon as they had made it three steps a deep voice rang out from the shrubbery,

“Got somewhere to be? You only just got here.” 

Civilian turned and ran. 

They ran faster than they ever had in their life. Their feet pounded on the gravel with as much force as their heart pounded against their rib cage. In their hast they couldn’t find it in their throat to scream for help. Help from someone, anyone. 

Their running wasn’t fast enough. 

A hand grabbed the back of their messenger bag and yanked them back. Civilian choked on air as their back viciously hit the ground. A knee was on their chest and a hand over their mouth as soon as their body was down. 

“Now, now love. All I need is a little chat about what you just saw. No need to be so on edge.” The man on top of them wore a dark mask and his leather gloves smelled against Civilian’s face. The man’s silver watch periodically glinted the reflection of the sun with each spasm Civilian experienced.

They frantically tried to claw the hand off their mouth, tears already leaking from their eyes, and they kicked their legs out trying to dislodge the attacker. Their struggle, though, quickly stopped as the other hand yanked their head back by their hair at an angle which promised death if they struggled too hard. 

“None of that now,” the low voice said. A voice that Civilian did not recognize. “I don’t want to kill you yet. There’s still some things I need from you.” 

Yet.

Yet. 

The word made new panicked tears come to civilian’s eyes. Their sobs were stifled by the rank leather that gripped tighter around their mouth. 

“That’s a good one. Now, tell me, did you tell anyone where you were headed on this fine morning?” 

Civilian froze. Wide eyes staring at the two eye holes the mask provided. What should they say? What would buy them more time? They could lie and say they had told someone they were going for a walk…but would that put someone else in danger? The moment the attacker knew Civilian was alone with no travel companion they would break their neck or drown them in the pond like the senator, they were sure…

“I can tell you didn’t,” the mask lifted a bit at the edges indicating a smile beneath. “Your eyes say it all. No one knows you’re out here then, hm?” 

Civilian tried once more to push the man off, but his grip only tightened and he leaned more of his weight on his knee. Civilian’s chest ached. 

“That’s a yes. You should never play poker my friend. You have every tell in the book.” 

Civilian only cried more. 

“You and the Senator were getting pretty close last night. Anything he told you that you wish to share?” 

Pretty close? Civilian had only spoken to him for part of the evening about the hotel’s architecture. The senator had found it fascinating that Civilian could tell what year each part of the hotel was built based on the shape of the windows. It was nothing special…but that meant this masked man was at the party last night, watching them. 

Civilian was going to throw up. 

The hand eased a bit off their mouth, now just hovering over. Civilian’s choked sobs immediately sounded. 

“Come on now, just tell me what you know and this will go as smoothly as I can make it. That’s quite nice of me, isn’t it?” 

“I…” Civilian stuttered through the panic, “I…don’t know what you mean.” 

“Of course you do,” The hand gripping their hair pulled even more, causing Civilian to choke on a gasp. “I know you’re a smart one. You’ve seen the news. Did the Senator tell you anything about making a deal?” 

What? What did that even mean? They spoke about windows for fucks sake!

“No…no…we were…” They huffed out a sob that they couldn’t hold back. 

“You were what?” The hand that hovered over their mouth now clamped on their throat. Just tight enough to cause pain. 

“Windows,” Civilian cried. “We were talking about the windows.” 

“Windows?” The man questioned. 

“I…you can tell a lot about a building through its windows…I’m writing about the hotel…” 

The man interrupted them with a laugh. The hand on their hair loosened and Civilain’s head was no longer forced back. 

“Windows,” the man chuckled. “Fucking windows…and here I was worried.” 

The hand started to card through their hair in an oddly intimate gesture. 

“Sorry mate,” said the man with nonchalance. “Wrong place, wrong time I guess. Pity too, you’re sorta cute.” 

The hand on their throat suddenly clasped and Civilain’s eyes blew wide as the man leaned down and placed both hands on their neck to squeeze. 

The man put his weight onto his knee and arms, effectively cutting off all air and making any of Civilian’s struggling pointless. Still, they clawed at the hands and kicked their feet, feeling the blood rush to their head. 

No, they thought at black spots appeared before their eyes. Please, god, no.

“It’ll be over soon, love.” The man’s voice barely registered. 

Civilian felt their hands go numb and their kicking stopped as their energy drained like a bath with the stopper pulled out. 

“Yeah, it will.” 

A slash and the pressure on their neck and chest was gone. Civilian coughed and gasped as air flooded their body. 

From the corner of their eye they could make out two dark shapes struggling beside them, but through the coughing and the tears they couldn’t make out much. 

Suddenly they felt themselves being picked up and thrown over a shoulder. They make a sound of protest, despite their damaged throat. 

“Hang on, mate. I’ll get you somewhere safe.” 

Civilian knew that voice. They knew it, but their battered body could do nothing to protest. 

Civilian could only hang off the broad shoulder as Villain swept them deeper into the garden. 

[quitealotofsodapop]

So Mk gets surprise eggo because of paint and confined space and lack of food? Imagine that he has no idea what’s wrong with him, he goes to Lao Tzu, and when Lao Tzu goes “congrats on the baby” Everyone just kinda stops.

And Mk bursts into tears so loudly that all of heaven can hear. He’s all “I can’t have a baby, it’s too dangerous!” And “I’m not ready!” Pigsy and Wukong are trying to comfort him, and the poor boys is just a sobbing mess.

And Lao Tzu is just standing there like “?????”

Sorry MK XD You're getting Egged

Bonus Anon asks:

Referencing this post where someone pointed out that MK could theoretically create a Stone Egg + the sequel that pointed out that he'd most likely do it on accident.

I could see this most likely happening in the Canon! verse since I bet the other au MK's would be more wary of Stone Egg mishaps. But I could 100% see it happening in the SlowBoiled au since that causes more drama.

And as much as I love the idea of MK becoming *ahem* egg'd as the result of a bad guy's plans or a huge catarosphe, I think it would fit more if MK did it completely on accident.

So the idea:

Post S3 MK decides that he needs some "Me time" and takes a break from work and training after the whole "Saving the world from a bone demon"-thing. He just needs some time to shut off completely from his responsibilities in the city. His friends understand and wish him well, even though they're worried since MK won't tell him *Where* he's taking a break to.

"Where" turns out to be a cool cave-let MK found while exploring FFM during S2 with no Monkey King to hover over him. Its quiet, it's secluded, its completely off-grid... But MK just can't relax. His brain is all busy, and everytime he sleeps he sees Her.

So he starts painting. And drawing. And using charcoal. Maybe a little rough pottery with the muddy clay-like stuff in the water? And soon enough he's looking like his Artist Clone with how caked in material he is.

In liu of going to sleep and risking terrible bone demon nightmares, MK meditates like how he saw the Monkey King do. In these moments his thoughts wander into deep, dark teritory. Real "call of the void"-type of thoughts.... hey should he eat something? It's been... oh gosh Pigsy's gonna killl him if he doesn't at least text to tell him how his sabbatical is going.

After his inpromtu vacation is up, MK feels... really gross? Maybe thats cus he hasn't really washed or slept or ate, or spoken to anyone in all that time. Weird.

Pigsy asks him how long it's been since MK last ate a full meal, and huffs with disappointment at his nervous laugh before pouring his son a bowl of noodles.

Bouts of nausea and dizziness follow MK everywhere afterwards. He had no idea why - paint fumes maybe? Did some toxic chemical seep into his skin? Did he get sick somehow from isolating himself in that cave? Is that Jin and Yin trying to take over the city?

At somepoint in the utter chaos of S4 likely as the rest of the gang are recieving training from Subodhi; a certain alchemist meets MK to whisper a few questions into his ear.

Lao Tzu: "I was told that you've been experiencing extreme power fluctuations for the last few weeks. May I run a few test to rule out any abnormalities?" MK: "Oh cool, no probs! Just don't put me in that furnace thing-y." (*a few tests later*) Lao Tzu: "Ok great news, it's not a curse or medical problem." MK: "Phew! Then why is my body feels like its "glitching" all the time?" Lao Tzu: "Thats a decaying glamour spell. Its likely that you had one affixed to you shortly before you were given up by your creators." MK: "Glamour spell...? Wait, then what about my powers wigging out?" Lao Tzu: "Oh thats easy. You're just pregnant." MK (has not Done the Do): "What!?"

Mere seconds after Lao Tzu gives the diagnosis - MK just starts bawling.

He doesn't want this! Not now! He does want to have kid while all This is going on! The world might be ending for Buddha's sake!

MK is having a million panic attacks rn. He wants to have kids, so many, but only in the *Future*! When he's like semi-retired and has a protege of his own to take over the monkey business- HEY WAIT, HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!?!

Subodhi has to drop the big lore that MK is a Stone Monkey - capable of reproducing asexually under extreme circumstances, in order to clear up the whole immaculate conception part.

Then Lao Tzu has to tell MK that the Stone Egg he carries will likely Kill him since he's (mostly) mortal.

MK starts crying before deciding to tackle the issue Later.

Ofc MK simply doesn't want his family to worry about him what with all this Brotherhood stuff going on... so he just keeps quiet for now.

His family are going to find out soon though. And by Guanyin, Pigsy is gonna freak.

Macaque (and later Wukong), just need to sniff MK once after they reunite to notice whats up.

Wukong offers to grab some No-Baby Spring Water immediately if MK doesnt want to keep the Egg. Macaque briefly panics thinking that the kid got knocked up the old-fashioned way... only to panic harder when he and Wukong determine it to be a Solo-Made Stone Egg(!!!). Cue two panicking fellow Stone Monkeys making MK feel even worse about his conflicted feelings on the matter.

Pls add on what you think so far! :3

[eoieopda]

foresight (myg)

It all started with a bad joke and a bottle of Tanqueray.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader | Darksided AU Type: One-Shot / Prequel to darksided (no. 2) & blindsided (no. 3,) but can be read as a stand-alone fic. Word Count: 11.3K 😳 Content: SPICY FLUFF (18+ or else - oral (m receiving) and penetrative, protected sex (p in v)); strangers to lovers au; POV switches; discussion of anxiety and negative self-talk; alcohol consumption (primary setting is a bar); tteokbokki; and just the cutest fucking duo. ft. Seokjin and a surprise cameo by reader's cat. A/N: The origin story for my beloved babies, which takes place in 2016 (and uses Korean age, fyi.) I found this photo after I finished writing and nearly fell tf over because this was the Yoongi in my brain; jacket and all, omfg. My actual note (and tags) will be at the end! 💕 Listen to the playlist here. Read Interlude: Sunrise drabble here.

Min Yoongi wanted it on record that he tried.

When Seokjin pushed, and pushed, and pushed Yoongi to ask out that girl, he did. She was someone Seokjin knew from somewhere, and she seemed nice enough. All Yoongi really knew about her was that she was pretty, though he hoped to learn that this was the least interesting thing about her.

If nothing else, Yoongi proceeded out of spite. He wanted nothing more than to shove it in Seokjin’s face that he was capable of being a normal, twenty-four-year-old man. He wanted to prove to Seokjin — and to himself, if he were being honest — that he wasn’t a borderline-reclusive workaholic.

Or, at the very least, he wasn’t exclusively a borderline-reclusive workaholic. He did want to get out and meet new people; just in negligible and infrequent doses.

It had been so long since Yoongi last went on a date that three (3) generations of iPhones had come and gone. Children who hadn’t yet been born were now entering pre-kindergarten, making macaroni art with the motor skills they’d obtained during his romantic sabbatical. It was embarrassing; it was depressing; and it all piled up at his doorstep, barricading him inside his apartment.

There was a vicious cycle at play, making matters worse. It casted Yoongi as the lone sock, swirling and drowning inside his washing machine brain. The plot was as stupid as it was repetitive:

Relentless schedule aside, Yoongi didn’t date because it made him anxious. Then, he’d become more anxious because he wasn’t dating. Ultimately, he’d end up too anxious about his anxiety to address the thing that caused it in the first place. And around and around and around he went.

Why the fuck did people subject themselves to this on purpose?

Asking her out was the simplest part. With a quick text and an emoji — the latter of which Yoongi deliberated over for far too long — he’d knocked the ball into her court. She’d responded within minutes, which he assumed was a good sign. Saturday night, they’d decided, at eight o’clock.

Unfortunately, no part of what came next was easy.

Yoongi had spent the four subsequent days in a tailspin. Spiraling over where to take her, what to wear, and what the fuck to talk to her about. In the few interactions they’d had before, all she seemed to do was pepper him with questions about his career. Like everyone else, she was fascinated by Yoongi: the Concept.

Whether or not she cared about Yoongi: the Person was yet to be determined.

Worse, after three years in the public eye, Yoongi worried that he’d lost track of what once made him relatable. That boy from Daegu — with a chip on his shoulder and a fire in his belly — was traded in for a luxury model. He no longer had to debate between purchasing a meal or a bus ticket home from work because he was now loaded and living in Hannam-fucking-dong.

Ugh.

People looked at him with stars in their eyes, but he could never tell if anyone truly saw him. And even if someone did, what was left to see, anyway? Yoongi doubted that he could pick himself out of a lineup now.

Eventually, after three nights of tossing and turning, Yoongi had landed on something that felt meaningful. He would take this girl to a hole-in-the-wall that he loved dearly, which sat relatively unnoticed in a lesser-traveled pocket of Seoul. It was quiet and unassuming, but had a life of its own.

As far as Yoongi could see, it was the perfect place to find the parts of himself that’d dropped on his rapid, record-breaking ascent. Decidedly unremarkable but worth it, nonetheless. There, she could get to know the person behind the persona. Maybe she’d even come to like who he actually was.

Before heading out, Yoongi had pitched his plan to Seokjin and received a thumbs up in response. Unfortunately, her reaction came from two knuckles down. Her departure followed less than sixty seconds after her arrival. She’d fled so quickly, in fact, that she managed to flag down the very same cab before it could clear the block.

Through her window, she’d shouted out her scathing review: Yoongi was cheap; she would never drink bottom-shelf liquor with him in a glorified dumpster; and she both expected and deserved better because he could access better. Yoongi had stood stunned on the sidewalk as she disappeared — likely forever — in a cloud of exhaust.

Somehow, it felt like that cab had run him over as it peeled out.

To be clear, none of this was painful because Yoongi was disappointed; he wasn’t, not in the slightest. Good fucking riddance. It was worse than that. He felt validated, and he knew exactly how fucking sad that was.

See? Told you so, he’d thought bitterly to himself. Then, immediately, Yoongi criticized himself for being too critical. Hypocrite.

So, there he stood.

If Yoongi followed his instinct and went home, he could rebuild his barricade and watch several episodes of Chopped before passing out alone in his bed. A productive night, despite its fruitless start. But then, he realized, he’d have to answer when Seokjin inevitably called to ask what the fuck went wrong.

Fuck it.

Yoongi shrugged to no one but himself. He then slipped from the sidewalk, through the dumpster’s front door, and straight to the bar. Slumping down onto a leather-topped stool, he rested his elbows against the mahogany countertop and dropped his dejected chin in his hand.

Is this rock bottom? He wondered, Drinking in a bar alone on a Saturday night?

Within seconds, there was a loud crash several meters away. Yoongi jerked his head towards the source of the sound, but he saw nothing. His brows furrowed. All was quiet until a whine erupted from the doorway to the back room.

“Shit, shit, shit!"

Upon standing, Yoongi pressed his hands against the bar and leaned forward to investigate; equal parts concerned and nosy.

On the ground in the doorway, he found shattered remnants of what was once a bottle of Tanqueray. Crouching above the pine-scented wreckage, plucking chunks of glass off the hardwood, he found you.

Yoongi immediately grimaced at your chosen method of disaster clean-up. There was already a bandage wrapped around your finger — with a Hello Kitty pattern, he noted — that confirmed your ongoing battle with clumsiness.

You didn’t need to add to that collection and he couldn’t watch in good conscience while you made that outcome more and more likely.

Mind made up, he crossed quickly to the side of the bar he had no authorization to be on. As soon as Yoongi reached you, he saw the nearby bucket labeled “broken shit.” Then, he clocked the small hand-brush and dustpan resting against it. Wasting no time, he grabbed all three; and without a word, you allowed him to carefully usher you out of the way.

Crouching down the way you had, he began to sweep the broken shit into the dustpan. Too preoccupied to glance up, he asked without looking, “Are you okay?”

When you didn’t immediately respond, Yoongi’s eyes quickly rose to find you with strawberry-pink cheeks and wide, vaguely horrified eyes, and —Shit, was he staring?

Say something. Say anything. For fuck’s sake, Yoongi, at least smile so she knows you’re not angry.

What he landed on looked more like a grimace, he was sure of it, and it didn’t seem to fix that look on your face.

“I’m so sorry,” you squeaked once he finished dumping the glass into its designated receptacle.

You didn’t give him a chance to tell you that an apology wasn’t necessary, opting instead to rattle off your perceived sins at an alarming rate:

“I think I’m the only bartender in Seoul that’s this bad at tending bar. I mean, I didn’t even know anyone else was here — because I wasn’t paying attention — and now you, the patron I’m supposed to be serving, are cleaning up after me. It’s definitely supposed to be the other way around —“

A smile was twitching at the corner of his mouth that he couldn’t prevent. Without a door into the so far one-sided conversation, Yoongi had to jump through the window you created when you finally drew a breath. “Have you got a mop?”

Based on the way your eyebrows knit together, you’d been thrown entirely for a loop. You re-opened your mouth, likely to apologize for not following the sudden twist. Yoongi refused to allow further self-flagellation, though.

Classic Yoongi: demonstrating more compassion for strangers than he ever shows himself.

“For the gin,” He chuckled softly as he gestured down to the puddle at his feet. Suddenly and baselessly bold, he shot you a playful look and tacked on, “And for all the words you just spilled.”

The aforementioned eyebrows shot up as your jaw dropped further. Thankfully, it was amusement and not offense glittering in your eyes. Pretty. As you crossed your arms over your chest, you tilted your head and sized him up with a quick glance.

If this was a test, he was determined to pass.

“Maybe,” you hummed.

Yoongi wanted to volley your nonchalant tone, but he couldn’t swallow the laughter bubbling up from his chest. He was grinning like an idiot; there was no denying it. “Maybe?”

Your eyebrow twitched ever so slightly, the perfect overture to the mischief on your lips. When you replied, that microscopic smirk never faltered: “Let’s say, for arguments’ sake, that there is a mop.”

A manicured finger was held up to stop Yoongi from interjecting.

Mystified, his poor brain tried to crunch the numbers. Statically, it made no sense that — out of the thousands of people he’d met in his life — he’d never come across someone quite like you. In a matter of minutes, you’d pirouetted from adorable, to self-depreciating, to coy and confident.

All-encompassing, all electric, you moved through tone shifts far more gracefully than you did through the bar.

And if he’d done the math right, this was the first interaction he’d had in recent memory that didn’t deplete his energy. In fact, it had the opposite effect. Gazing at you, Yoongi began to wonder if this was how extroverts got to feel as they moved through the world. Like it gave back more than it took. Lucky bastards.

Once Yoongi was thoroughly disarmed, you continued breezily, “Hypothetically speaking, would you let me be the one to use said mop? After all, it’s both my job and my mess.”

“Hypothetically?” He repeated, sucking in a breath through his teeth. Your eyes narrowed further as he paused to formulate a counterpoint. Meanwhile, Yoongi’s involuntary smile spread in a straight line across his face.

You’re a goddamn delight, full stop.

“Assuming, for the sake of this argument, that I do concede the mop in question —” Yoongi raised an eyebrow, “— How could I be sure that you wouldn’t hurt yourself? After all, you did just try to clean up broken glass with your hands.”

If this had been a gun fight and not banter behind a bar, you would’ve shot him dead. Like lightning, you quickly unraveled your arms and held your hands at the ready. That effervescent grin of yours might be his undoing instead.

Eyes alight, you threw down the gauntlet: “Gawi, bawi, bo?”

Never before in your life had you played rock, paper, scissors, and lost at every single turn. You’d also never requested a rematch for every loss before, continuing the game into perpetuity; but you had a hypothesis to prove and a perfectly unique smile to make wider.

No matter what you threw, he’d offered a gesture to counter it. If his eyes hadn’t gotten wider and wider with shock as it just — kept — happening, you would’ve simply decided that he was psychic. A mind-reader, predicting your every move before you’d even settled on it yourself.

Spooky.

At the start, his amusement had been more or less concealed. Withheld, even, like it was dangerous to grin with every single one of his teeth. Eventually, though, his shoulders shook the way yours did; and mirth pooled in the corners of his eyes as he wheezed through laughter with you.

You didn’t know him, but still, you couldn’t help thinking: there he is.

At some point during your unending match, he doubled over to catch his breath. Seizing the element of surprise, you’d darted into the storage room before he could’ve stopped you. When you reappeared with a mop and bucket in tow, you’d immediately begun to address the mess you made. It took a few moments of buffering for him to realize what you’d done.

That time around, he hadn’t shouldered your burden for you and thank god for that. First impressions were never your strong suit, and you were already starting from behind. Always too much, you couldn’t be useless, too.

Instead, he’d simply resigned himself to swapped names and spiked blood pressure as you struggled — stubbornly and independently — to dump the contents of that yellow, wheeled mop bucket into the utility sink. Standing quietly out of your way, Yoongi had looked close to proud when you managed to do it all without spilling a drop.

See, you’d thought, I’m verifiably Not Useless!

Once the evidence of your clumsy crime had been disposed of, you’d returned the cleaning supplies to their rightful space in the storage room’s closet. Similarly, you and your patron returned to your rightful places: him on his stool at the front of the bar; you, finally fixing him a drink behind it.

Ardbeg, single malt, neat.

After sliding the glass across the mahagony to his waiting hand, you glanced towards the front entrance. As usual, there were no pedestrians wandering this way; no cars on the street, either. The only quiet part of Seoul — especially on a Saturday night.

The bar routinely bordered on empty, but it had some magical quality to it: Nobody you saw inside for the first time seemed to be there for the first time. This was especially odd because it wasn’t a place anyone went to, just a place they ended up. Nobody’s first choice, it was a last resort only visible to people who knew where to look for it.

Yoongi was the first one to speak, unknowingly putting an end to your mythologizing. You just barely flinched at the surprise of his voice, but he managed to catch it. Then, he conducted a brief yet careful study of your face to determine whether you were simply jumpy, or experiencing some sort of medical event.

A gesture like that, done in passing, shouldn’t have meant so much to you. Really, all he did was look at you. It felt like more than that, though, because it was the second-kindest thing anyone had done for you in months — and it occurred merely twenty minutes after the first-place winner.

Now, that’s depressing.

“I haven’t seen you in here before,” He hummed, “I only ever run into Yang Daehyun-nim, though it’s been a minute. Honestly, I don’t even know if he’s still around. You know him?”

“Yes, absolutely. He’s my husband.” You deadpanned and Yoongi nearly choked to death on his drink.

You were, of course, fucking with him. The man in question was swiftly approaching ninety, but he looked twice as old. You successfully maintained your ruse until Yoongi’s tongue breached the barrier of his lips and gathered his runaway whiskey.

Where am I? Who am I? Is that legal?

Yoongi simultaneously picked up the joke and his glass. He raised both with pure amusement on his face, “Cheers to the happy couple, then.”

Never one to raise a toast empty-handed, you quickly dumped what little remained of a nearby soju bottle into a shot glass. His eyes sparkled as he watched you race to catch up; even more so when you leaned in to clink your glass against his.

Oh, so he’s pretty pretty.

“To the happy couple,” you echoed.

With both of your drinks dispatched, you grabbed the bottle of Ardbeg to top him up. Expensive taste, you noted, not the low-rent version you were destined for.

If Yoongi hadn’t shown up to order it, that bottle would’ve continued to gather dust on the top shelf. Like you, none of your regulars had the capital to even glance that high. Granted, the sample size was abysmally small at only three (3) people, but the point still stood.

Until Yoongi mentioned Daehyun, you couldn’t think of a single reason why your employer bothered to keep anything like that in stock. Now, that piece seemed to fit. Still, you were puzzled as to why Yoongi would come to a dive like this to drink liquor like that.

Clearly, the man sitting in front of you contained multitudes.

At the exact moment you asked how long he’d been coming here, Yoongi wondered when you joined the staff. Your respective answers came simultaneously, too. His six years easily dwarfed your eight months.

True to form, you joked that he was more qualified to tend bar here than you were. He said his only relevant skill was cleaning broken glass.

It made you sad in some stupid way to realize that you could’ve met a hundred times over by now. Had more conversations like this, haunted the joint jointly rather than on your own. Truthfully, though, you were at least semi-soothed by the timing.

You were a horrible bartender now, but you’d been even worse before. He might not have survived this long.

Once again, Yoongi set your runaway train-of-thought back on track. “Eight months ago.” He took a sip, then he asked, “Is that when you moved to Korea?”

It was a simple question, certainly not an offensive one. The reason it nearly bowled you over was that no one had ever bothered to ask. Nobody seemed to notice the non-native accent that occasionally appeared when you spoke — not unless you referenced its existence first, that is.

Even then, people forgot. You wished you were confident that they simply got used to it, but you had the sneaking suspicion that nobody really listened when you spoke. After all, no one had a reason to give a shit about you, so long as you kept their glasses full.

The weight of your curiosity caused your head to tilt to the side. You allowed a tiny smile to spread as you asked, “What gave me away?”

“Don’t get me wrong —” He held up his hands to prevent a reaction you’d never dream of giving. “It’s not obvious. You’ve got a better grasp than some of my friends do — which is kind of sad, actually. They’ve lived here their whole lives.”

He gifted you a reassuring smile, then came the true prize: he licked his lips absently before speaking again. You had to clench every single muscle in your body to keep from swooning.

That cannot be legal.

“I noticed it earlier, but you were already embarrassed. I didn’t want to risk making it worse.” Yoongi still looked like he was afraid to hurt your feelings. “When you word-vomit — like you did earlier — your consonants sound like they would in English.”

This linguistic assessment didn’t surprise you; it was dead-on. It didn’t embarrass you, either, but you blushed nonetheless. Without thinking, you mused, “Makes sense that you’re the first to say something. You spend more time overseas than most, right?”

For a split second, you swore you saw Yoongi frown. A little twinge, one you would’ve missed if you weren’t so fixated on his every micro-expression. If you could have, you would’ve hit the rewind button and reverted back thirty seconds.

Was it off-limits, finally acknowledging that you knew who you were dealing with? Did it bother him that you did know, and proceeded to speak to him like the glaring disparity between the two of you didn’t matter? Did it matter?

“You mean to tell me —” He started quietly with a flex of his eyebrow. You feared the worst, even though Yoongi didn’t strike you as the type to make your failure to fawn a problem. “— That the place you lived before wasn’t under a rock?”

As soon as he saw your expression morph from panic to blatant relief, his eyes crinkled until every one of his facial features contributed to his smile. It was difficult to process how an expression that gentle hit you like a punch, but it did, and you felt a bit dizzy.

Professionalism be damned, you cracked open another bottle of soju and filled not one, but two glasses. Yoongi smirked — likely unsurprised by your willingness to drink with him on the clock — and easily accepted the shot you slid his way.

“To the worst bartender in Seoul,” You cheered as you raised it.

He rolled his eyes at your self-depreciation, but followed your lead without any meaningful resistance. Like it was choreographed, you both downed your shots in unison. Straight, no chaser. Just the slight burn in the back of your throat and the very first thing your scrambled brain could think to say:

“Do you want to hear a joke?”

Yoongi was clearly stunned by your sudden maneuver, but you didn’t wait for him to co-sign your antics. You cleared your throat like you were about to say something worth hearing, then you warbled, “Knock, knock!”

You expected him to pause again; or worse, to leave you hanging entirely. It was, frankly, stupid how much of an effect the latter always had on you. You were a demented scientist and your bad joke was a litmus test, ready to reveal on the front-end what kind of person Yoongi really was.

Translation: Tell me now if I’m too much. I’m always too much.

“Who’s there?”

He didn’t hesitate. There was no blink of an eye, no breath taken in between your call and his response. This time, it was you who needed a split-second to buffer.

When your brain finally reloaded, you peeped, “Cargo.”

“Cargo who?” Yoongi asked slowly, growing visibly suspicious about where this stupid, stupid road was leading. Somehow, he looked as amused by you as he did continually bewildered.

Springing the trap, you accentuated your shitty punchline with a sing-song tone and pantomime for emphasis, “Car go beep beep!”

Nobody had ever — ever — looked at you the way Yoongi did when you concluded your comedy routine. As if your teary-eyed grin and raucous laughter were something beautiful; and your presence alone wasn’t killing off one, sorry brain cell for every minute that passed.

“Knock, knock,” Yoongi volleyed with a soft chuckle, and without breaking eye contact.

As if you weren’t too much.

Yoongi needed a minute to take inventory.

When he left his apartment at a quarter-til-eight, he was headed out for his first date in a long damn time. It was Seokjin’s setup and that girl’s letdown. For Yoongi, it was another drop in the bucket; one final reason to commit to life as a hermit.

Troll that he was, Yoongi was ready to crawl back under his bridge; emerging only to pose impossible riddles to passersby who didn’t know to stay away.

His brain had given him an out, but for once, he didn’t take it. So, what did he end up with instead?

You, sitting on the bar, going shot-for-shot with him; and telling your self-titled villain origin story with award-worthy narration.

Equally as enthralling as the story itself was the tangential webs you weaved along the way. As he’d already learned to expect, you apologized frequently for the way one thought trailed off in a direction you didn’t intend. He wished you didn’t; he had no trouble following wherever your mind led you.

You, born here but not raised here, returning to claim a master’s degree in photography and to reclaim what you felt you missed out on. Yoongi loved your foreign take on local foods, even if you hadn’t yet acquired a taste for pickled vegetables.

We’ll get you there, he’d promised.

You, gesturing with hand movements so impassioned they nearly knocked you off balance; right off the bar. He was down to listen to you talk about whatever — for any amount of time — because he could feel how much you cared about — well, everything.

Animated, fully alive, and so fucking refreshing.

Him, with one hand on his drink and the other hovering on the bar top near your hip — just in case your full-body laugh did, in fact, provoke a fall.

Yoongi, who do you think you’re fooling?

So, maybe it was never exclusively about concern for your safety — even though you’d demonstrated from the jump that it was warranted. Yoongi was quickly coming to realize that, when it came down to it, he simply liked having you close. He liked you, full stop.

Every now and then, you’d wiggle where you sat, and the denim of your jeans would brush against his knuckles. It was as innocent as contact could be, but for someone so secretly touch-starved, it was bliss. Is this the kind of feeling he gave up, locked away in his tower? It sure as shit made leaving feel worth it.

He was buzzed, sure, but not drunk enough to blame the warmth he was feeling on the liquor. Any flush on his cheeks would only be partly genetic. The rest of it was all you — and the way you talked with your whole body, and that giggle.

Seriously, what the fuck is that giggle? A wind-chime made out of stars?

“Yoongi?”

It didn’t dawn on him that he was staring until you called his name. Then, it dawned on him that he didn’t care if he’d been caught — not even a little bit. Red-handed, all Yoongi could do was smile up at you as you blinked down at him.

He’d thought it before and now he was thinking it again: You are goddamn delight.

You threw your head back and laughed. Maybe it was the soju, or how fucking obvious he made it that he was infatuated with you. Whatever the cause, the effect was music to his ears. He’d record it, if he could, and play it on loop to appease the butterflies going wild in his stomach.

Unfortunately, he was accurate in his prediction. The sudden movement of your laughter sent you reeling, but before you could fall, Yoongi was quick to intervene. He stood abruptly from his stool to secure you; one hand on your hip and the other — unintentionally — on your thigh.

“Shit — Sorry,” Yoongi muttered, though he was very much still holding you. Oh, fuck, his brain screamed as he glanced down at his hand on your thigh. Heart pounding, his gaze flitted from his touch to your face.

Your mouth was still slightly open, but that could’ve easily been attributed to the fact that you’d so narrowly avoided launching yourself headfirst at the ground. If it wasn’t that, then you were looking for the words to yell to get him to back off.

Those were the only possible explanations; and any minute now, his hand would accept his brain’s signal to pull away.

Any minute now. Any —

Yoongi watched it all happen in slow motion and he still couldn’t believe it when you leaned in. Or when your hair slipped over your shoulder and brushed against his. Or when you kissed him quick and pulled back just to smile from mere centimeters away.

“Impressive reflexes.” You were breathless but you still managed to sigh. Have you had freckles this whole time? “What’s that saying? Not all heroes wear Lewis Leathers?”

Your playful tug at his jacket had no force behind it, but even with his feet firmly planted, Yoongi knew that he was falling. His stomach fluttered from the pinnacle of that emotional rollercoaster and, for once, he wasn’t afraid of heights. He’d kiss you again and follow that thrill all the way down.

Or, he would have, if the bell above the door didn’t chime.

Just as quickly as you’d kissed him, you spun around and prepared to dismount from your perch on the bar. Yoongi’s hand still seemed to vibrate, even when you slipped out from underneath. It was absolutely ridiculous that his body missed you already — automatically — but he couldn’t think of any other explanation.

He wasn’t a violent person by any means, but he was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to throw the incoming patron out on their ass and lock the door behind them.

The audacity. Who does this clown think they are, coming into a place of business during their business hours? For fuck’s —

“Finally!” You squeaked as you stuck your landing. Then, you skipped around the edge of the bar and continued on your way towards the door.

Jesus Christ. Even the way you walk is cute.

Yoongi was initially too preoccupied with watching you to notice the intruder, but when he did, he couldn’t force the exasperated look off his face. That is, until he saw the panicked look on the prepubescent face of the delivery boy.

The poor kid’s eyes bugged out at Yoongi from under the brim of his uniform cap. Immediately, Yoongi felt inclined to atone, to bow. Instead, he offered a mildly apologetic grimace for the heart attack he didn’t mean to cause.

You accepted the bags of food into your arms, beaming like the fucking sun as you glanced over your shoulder to Yoongi. “You said you liked Hongdae Dakgalbi, right?”

Yes. Yes, he did. But his brain was spinning its wheels in the mud because —

What he finally said wasn’t a question, but it certainly sounded like one: “You ordered food.”

Clearly, Yoongi was missing something. He glanced around and confirmed that there was, in fact, an operational kitchen still situated at the far end of the room. He pointed to the small window carved out for taking and producing orders. “What about —?”

“Binna called off,” you shrugged through your explanation. Then, you tilted your head with a coy smile, “Were we supposed to starve?”

Yoongi had questions. A lot of them.

First and foremost: When did you summon takeout and how did you manage to go unnoticed in the process? He was certainly staring at you for long enough to catch it. Or maybe his heart-eyes were getting foggy with age.

Also, we? As in, you ordered food with the intention of sharing it with him? And you paid for it?

When his broken brain snapped back to attention, it registered the fact that you’d settled on top of the stool next to his. You either didn’t notice the smoke flying out of Yoongi’s ears, or you accepted his brain damage for what it was. Either way, you were too excited about the piping hot tteokbokki in front of you to notice the way he still lingered by the door.

The delivery boy was long gone by now; he took the first opportunity to get as much distance between himself and the visibly annoyed person he’d interrupted. Looking at it now, Yoongi’s fingers twitched with a desire to engage the deadbolt. But he didn’t — he, a coward, wouldn’t — so he simply reclaimed the spot next to you.

You immediately held up a pair of chopsticks as you fished out napkins with your other hand. Yoongi stared at them for too long, prompting you to look quizzically up at him. You asked no questions, and he couldn’t think of a single reason why he said it, but he blurted out:

“I’m supposed to be on a date.”

Unfazed by the lack of context, you gently tucked that pair of chopsticks into his useless hand. Yoongi blinked down at them like he didn’t know what to do with them. You went back to unpacking your takeout.

“And I’m supposed to be working,” You chirped, as if what he just said — unprompted — wasn’t completely idiotic. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Yoongi shook his head, praying it would knock his trapped thoughts loose. “I meant that I was supposed to be the one buying dinner.” He frowned down at the spread you’d provided. “If I knew you were hungry, I would’ve —“

“Taken a bite by now?” You teased with wiggling eyebrows. “Come on, Min Yoongi, you know the rules. The eldest eats first.”

Stunned wasn’t adequate. Entranced? His mouth hung open, primed to speak, without a single, coherent response on the horizon. Mystified, at the very least. You were always one step ahead of Yoongi, dancing off in a brand new direction.

How on Earth did you do it so easily? How were you so effortlessly bold when he couldn’t even blink without deliberating over the idea for days?

Yoongi wasn’t even jealous the way he would’ve expected to be, meeting his non-neurotic foil. He didn’t want to steal that spark for himself, or try to mimic your fearlessness. If he could just continue to witness it, that would be enough.

You threw him off again when you plucked a small piece of tteokbokki from one of the cardboard containers below and gently maneuvered it into his unwitting, waiting mouth.

Game over. Min Yoongi is done for.

“There we go,” You cooed with a smirk. Then, those chopsticks grabbed a piece of tteokbokki of your very own. You smiled adoringly down at it, winked up at him, and said, “Now we’re off to the races.”

After several minutes of deeply contented, quiet chewing, you turned slightly to gaze at him. You didn’t say anything at first; you simply watched and let your lips curve slightly into an understated smile. Yoongi didn’t care if that was all you did because — for once — he felt seen.

Eventually, you did speak. Your voice was soft, barely casting a ripple through the silence. “Can I ask?”

Your eyes scanned over his face for permission. Yoongi had no idea what your question was, but he doubted that he was capable of saying no to you. Fire at will.

“About the date you’re not on,” You clarified.

The one I was supposed to be on, or the one I might be on instead?

“Why aren’t you on it?”

He didn’t know how to explain any of it without sounding pathetic. He knew he’d rather die than have to relay his earlier misfortune to Seokjin; somehow, though, Yoongi didn’t hesitate to respond to you. Like everything else about the past few hours, it felt laughably easy.

“She’s a friend of a friend,” He began as soon as he wiped excess gochujang from the corner of his mouth.

“He basically harassed me into asking her out because I, uh — I don’t get out much. And I know a lot of people say that, but I really do mean it. You can probably guess as much from my frighteningly translucent complexion.”

Your mouth hitched up at the corner when he joked, but you didn’t laugh. In some odd way, he was grateful that you didn’t — not just because you didn’t enable his self-depreciation, but because you seemed too invested in what he was saying to interrupt him.

Nobody had ever looked at him quite like that before.

He cleared his throat, then he pressed on, “So, I did — and that part was fine. After that, though, I don’t think I slept at all. For, like, days. Now, I think I was just dreading the whole thing, but while it was happening, I figured I was nervous. Rusty, you know?”

Yoongi looked down at his hands, which fidgeted autonomously with his chopsticks. “I put way too much thought into the whole thing — I always do — even though I had this feeling that nothing was going to happen the way I planned.”

He paused, poked mindlessly at a lump of rice, and exhaled a breath he hadn’t intentionally held. Nothing had happened the way he planned, but if it did, who would’ve hand-fed him tteokbokki because they were too impatient to wait?

You dropped your chin in your hand as you continued to watch him. Wordlessly, you reached out with your other hand. Yoongi noticed just in time as you gently removed a piece of lint that had stuck to the tip of his jacket collar. Your eyes followed it as it floated off towards the floor.

Yoongi couldn’t see anything but you.

“You picked this place,” you murmured. Slowly, your eyes drifted back up to his face; he froze solid. The only thing moving was the pounding heart in his chest. “Must mean a lot to you.”

He wanted to be brave and tell you that it meant even more now. He wasn’t brave, though, so he swallowed that thought down with a mouthful of soju.

“She was not a fan, as it turns out. Hated it so much, just from the sidewalk, that she jumped right back in her taxi — yelled at me through the window that she deserved better than to drink bottom-shelf liquor in a dumpster with me.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and he wondered which part of that statement bothered you the most. Having your place of employment referred to as a dumpster would be a reasonable sore spot; one he probably should’ve avoided. Fuck. Could he rewind thirty seconds and omit that part?

“Well,” you frowned, “Joke’s on her. This dumpster has exactly one bottle on its top shelf, and it was apparently reserved just for you.”

He could kiss you. He really, really could.

You shifted on your stool, though, and stared out into the middle-distance at nothing in particular. Deep in thought, too, judging by the way your frown curved even further.

“It’s kind of funny, in a shitty sort of way. She more or less told you that you’re not enough, and people love to tell me that I’m too much.”

It was Yoongi’s turn to frown. Who in their right mind could look at you, experience the goddamn magnet that you are, and willingly detach themselves from you? The thought alone made his jaw clench.

There hadn’t been a single second since he met you — albeit, not that long ago — where he didn’t want to see and know more of you. Where he didn’t beg those seconds to slow the fuck down because the night kept moving faster than he wanted it to.

So far, no amount of time felt like enough.

“You’d think it would be nice, being everyone’s favorite new toy,” You laughed, to Yoongi’s surprise.

Looking genuinely amused, you glanced over your shoulder at him. “And I guess, for a minute, it really is. You do your silly song and dance; and everyone loves you — until they don’t anymore. Eventually, your tricks get boring; you burn them out; then they take out your batteries. You get shelved pretty quickly.”

There was a flicker of genuine hurt in your eyes, but you were smiling when you picked your glass up off the bar and raised it. “To always being the wrong amount!” You giggled.

“Nah.” Yoongi shook his head. He grabbed his drink, touched his glass to yours, and winked, “To being just right.”

One way or another, you spent most nights watching the clock, holding your breath, and waiting for midnight.

On New Year’s Eve, it was hope that bloomed bright in your chest like fireworks. When those final seconds dissolved, it meant closing one chapter and opening another. Something bigger, something better, something blank for you to fill in. A year in fresh white paper, with every color at your disposal.

Ten — nine —

For the rest of your midnights, it was relief that finally allowed you to unclench your jaw and drop your stiff shoulders. Closing time. Freedom to clean up, clear out, and drag your tired, little body back up to your apartment.

Thankfully, when your work hours were over, there were only three flights of stairs separating you from your bed, your cat, and your Netflix subscription.

Eight — seven —

Tonight was an outlier, a statistical anomaly. As the short hand inched closer and closer to twelve, your pulse picked up its pace. For once, it wasn’t relief and it certainly wasn’t hope. It was distinctively dread forming a pit in your stomach.

Even more than that, it was a telepathic plea shooting out from your brain that begged, and begged, and begged for more time. Five more minutes, just five more minutes.

Six — five —

You felt stupid, of course, because you knew that neither of you would turn into a pumpkin when the clock struck midnight. There was no spell, just two strangers who happened to be in the same bar at the same time, with bad jokes and a bottle of Tanqueray.

No bomb would detonate, no one would drop dead. When it was over, you’d simply go home, and Yoongi would go home and then…

Four —

That “and then what?” had you frantic. What if this moment ended and nothing followed? What if the magic didn’t survive the night?

You couldn’t take that disappointment; you knew that much. Gripping tight to your last first night, you tore your eyes away from the clock and looked at Yoongi.

He didn’t notice you staring because he had also become fixated on the clock ahead. His brow furrowed just slightly as he observed it, and you wondered what it meant.

Three —

You knew what you hoped it meant.

For all you knew, though, he might’ve been begging that hand to move faster. The end all, be all of justifications to say goodnight and go. To drop the moment in the bin with the spent, citrus garnishes on the way out; and then crawl back into that bed he spoke so fondly of.

The way you did whenever four zeroes lined up in a row like cartoon cherries on a slot machine. A personal jackpot any other midnight, but the farthest thing from a prize now.

Two —

No. You refused to believe that.

In the reality you’d chosen, he was strapped into that rollercoaster car beside you. He felt his stomach flip the way yours did as you stared down at the path ahead. You didn’t know how you knew it, but you were sure that you weren’t up there alone.

So, when the countdown was over, you took a deep breath and stated, “I’m calling a time-out.”

In actuality, it was more than a statement. It was a shout and it startled him so badly that he flinched.

As soon as he resettled on his stool, Yoongi’s neck could’ve snapped with how quickly he turned to look at you. His eyes were wider than you’d seen them at any point in the last four hours. Those once-knitted brows shot up to kiss the blonde strands brushing against his forehead.

You envied them, as stupid as that was.

“You’re — what?” He peeped.

Even louder than before, you blurted out your explanation. “I’m stopping the clock!”

You might’ve been the sole American in the entire neighborhood, but you could guarantee that you still knew less about football than Yoongi did. Knowing all of that didn’t stop you from making your worst attempt at a metaphor, or throwing your hand out to mime your way through it.

“Flag on the play — or whatever, I don’t know.”

At first, his expression didn’t change and you began to panic. Maybe you could duck down behind the bar and he’d eventually forget that you were hiding there. Then he wouldn’t see how pink your cheeks were; how the hope in your eyes bordered on desperate.

Shockingly, you weren’t delusional. You’d simply underestimated him.

Yoongi glanced down at his watch — already two minutes into Sunday — and then back to you. “Wow. Would you look at that? Only a minute til midnight.”

You could kiss him; you really, really could.

“Do you want to, uh, hang out? With me? Like, not here?”

Yoongi was smirking slightly at your stammering, just enough for you to notice, but you didn’t faint the way your body wanted you to. Instead, you doubled down.

“I live in the apartment upstairs, and this isn’t a proposition — it’s also not, not a proposition — but I need to lock-up here, and I still want you with me when I’m done.”

He blinked rapidly like you’d once again shook him off your tail. You watched in slow motion as his smirk dropped, and his brows dipped back into thoughtful wrinkles at the lowest part of his forehead. It hurt, physically somehow, that there was something to consider.

Were you really this egregiously wrong in your conclusions, or had he finally hit his quota with you and decided that you — this — were too much, too soon?

You wanted to explain yourself, to say that you were just offering for him to come up and sit on your couch with you. Because you wanted to keep this night alive and keep talking for as long as you could. Because this was something and you knew it.

You opened your mouth to do so, but he was the quicker draw.

Yoongi looked genuinely conflicted and you believed him when he said, “I don’t think I can. I have to be up in four hours to —”

“It’s okay!” You chirped. Stupid little bird, flying headlong into a window. You smiled and prayed it looked genuine, but Yoongi didn’t look convinced. Still, you breezed, “Raincheck, then — maybe.”

Maybe when you take the trash out later, you can heave yourself into the dumpster with it.

Deciding that your disappointment shouldn’t be his burden, you grabbed the takeout containers from the counter and whisked yourself over to the trash bin to discard them.

In a magnificent showing of restraint, you didn’t stuff yourself inside it, too. Instead, your tidy tornado kept spinning, picking up every glass you encountered and shoving them hurriedly into the dishwasher below the bar.

Are you suddenly Employee of the Month? Why is this the moment you choose to actually do your job?

With your hip, you nudged the dishwasher door closed much more clumsily than usual. Then, you began wiping down the counter at warp speed; damn near scrubbing a hole straight though the wood.

Why are you so frazzled? Are you really this sensitive after being politely turned down by someone you just met? This is what they mean when they say you’re “too much,” and you know what? They’re right.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Yoongi asked because he was lovely.

You were, as it turned out, as bad an actor as you were a bartender. Your reassuring smile was more unsettling than anything else, but you hoped that — maybe — the shake of your head was enough to dispel the concern from his face.

In case it wasn’t, you quipped, “You’ve already done more than your fair share of cleaning tonight, I think. Thanks again for that, by the way. I ran out bandages, so…”

Your sentence petered out when you finally looked up and locked eyes with Yoongi. His expression was indecipherable and, only for a moment, it made your hurried hands stop moving.

“So, I’m glad you came in,” You finished through an exhale, quiet to the point that it was hardly audible. You hoped he heard you, though, as loudly and clearly as you meant it.

Straightening up, you dropped your bar rag into the “dirty shit” bucket underneath the counter. You quickly wiped your hands against your jeans, laughed with no real joy behind it, and hid your wobbling voice behind a poorly imitated French accent, “Et voilà.”

Yoongi was still staring, still unreadable. For a few moments, you simply looked at one another. Neither one of you made a sound — at least, nobody spoke. There were gears grinding in his head, judging by the look on his face, and you swore you could hear them from across the bar.

“I guess I should — um,” Yoongi eventually muttered as he gestured to the door. He briefly glanced at it, but you doubted that he registered what he was looking at.

Oddly, it wasn’t awkwardness that seemed to have him short-circuiting — not as far as you could tell. It was like his brain was moving faster than it could form words, leaving his mouth open with nothing to say.

You nodded. You knew where he was going with this, and you didn’t want to prolong whatever he was so visibly toiling with.

“Yeah, of course,” You squeaked. Somewhere, the world’s tiniest violin began to play as the corner of your mouth hitched up. “I’ll see you around, I hope?”

Then, Yoongi’s gaze dropped to the phone in his hand. If he heard your question, he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, deep in thought, he mumbled, “I need to — fuck, okay —” Urgently, he looked back up at you and said firmly, “I’ll call.”

He dashed out the door before you realized the problem with his plan: he had no way to call you.

You’d been so caught up in each other that you never thought to exchange phone numbers. Not only was he now gone, but he hadn’t actually said goodbye.

Seems kind of fitting that yours is the only fairytale without a happy ending, huh?

You occupied the borderline between being a hopeless romantic and a masochist, so you immediately decided that, if you ran, you might catch him before he was truly gone.

Kiss him or kick him, it didn’t matter — you just couldn’t let it end like this.

You skirted around the bar and darted to the door, throwing it open and shocking the bell above it. You were already out on the sidewalk before it had the chance to chime. It was the only sound, and it echoed through otherwise dead air.

Similarly, you were the only person on the street. Judging by the dark windows lining the road, you were the only proof of life in that little corner of Seoul. The lack of visible stars was likely due to light pollution, but you wouldn’t be surprised if they dipped out on you, too.

No matter how many times you looked up and down the street, Yoongi didn’t appear. So, you closed your eyes like an idiot, and wished on a star you couldn’t see that he’d be there when you re-opened them. Standing on the other side of the street, laughing, and asking how you’d missed him on your thirty previous scans.

But he wasn’t.

Yoongi had disappeared like smoke right through your fingers; exiting your night as abruptly as he’d entered it.

You weren’t inclined to stand on the sidewalk all night, stunned by your complete failure to see the plot for what it was. You slipped from the sidewalk, through the front door, and locked it behind you. And once you did, you stood there with your hand on the deadbolt for several moments — just in case.

When no one came to knock, you turned all the lights out and flipped the sign in the front window from open to closed. From there, you made your way to the back of the storage room. Finally reaching the stairwell door in the far corner, you unlocked it slowly like the wait would make a difference.

As you climbed the three flights to your apartment’s entrance, the night’s events formed a whirlpool in your mind. The playback settled it: there was simply no way that you were this wrong — not about this.

Clearly, you weren’t clairvoyant to the extent that Yoongi seemed to be. You hadn’t seen it coming when you nearly fell backwards off the bar, but he did. He’d kept his hand close all night like he sensed you’d need it. Just like he sensed every rock, paper, and scissor.

Even still, it felt like a premonition every time you turned to look at him at the same time he did; and you couldn’t put a finger on it.

That something was more than simply chatting with a person stuck in your close proximity — more than commiserating and drinking simultaneously. That was the nature of your job: circumstantial friendship. Not uncommon, not designed to last beyond last call.

This, though? Cosmic interfere or craziness, maybe, but not nothing. You weren’t superstitious and you didn’t necessarily believe in fate, but the odds of all of this had to be shockingly low.

It felt cinematic, in a way, or straight out of a dream. You would have believed it either way if the pinch of your fingers on your forearm didn’t debunk both theories. It was all too perfectly timed to be a coincidence, though, you knew that much.

Out of all the nights you’d worked at this bar — and all the years he’d been a customer — this was the one time your paths had crossed. And when they finally did, he found you right when you needed him. The same, you hoped, could be said for him.

Too Much meeting Not Enough, proving perfect balance. It was just right, but the ending didn’t fit.

Sure, he knew where to find you — but that was assuming he wanted to. With his quick and wordless departure, your confidence in that assumption wavered as you unlocked your apartment door and stepped inside.

The ball’s over, Cinderella. Sorry about your shoe.

When his third call went to voicemail, Yoongi was ready to launch his phone down the alley.  

There was no fucking way that Seokjin — of all people — was asleep already. This could not be the night that he turned off whatever game he was playing and went to bed at a reasonable hour. Seokjin was rarely reasonable. As it turned out, he wasn’t reachable, either. 

Yoongi growled, kicking the nearby dumpster. He thought that some explosion of physical activity might take the focus off his anxiety, but it didn’t — it just made his foot hurt. 

“Fuck!”

He didn’t even want to make the plans he was now trying desperately to reschedule. He didn’t like fishing; he liked his friend, and his friend liked fishing. So, Yoongi agreed to share the cost of renting a boat that he would have to leave at five o’clock in the morning to catch.

If it's 00:17 now, I have three hours and forty-three minutes until —

The unexpected chiming of his phone stopped Yoongi’s pacing before he could wear a trench into the concrete. “Finally!” 

“Do you always yell at people instead of greeting them?” Seokjin scoffed. As expected, Yoongi could hear some sort of video game blaring in the background.

Typical.

“Hyung, I’m so sorry, but I'm not going to make it back in time. Can we re-schedule this fishing thing?”

Yoongi felt awful for having to ask in the first place, but he felt even worse as he anticipated Seokjin’s reaction. Yoongi swallowed disappointment and stewed in it. Seokjin was quite the opposite, and Yoongi didn’t want to ruin his night. 

To Yoongi’s surprise, he did not get yelled at the way he expected to. Instead, he got Seokjin’s juvenile, sing-song voice directed right into his ear, “Ooh, staying with Hyunjoo, are we?” 

Yoongi, having completely lost the plot, paused for a moment before asking, “Who?” 

“What?” 

Oh, fuck, was that her name? It’d slid out of his brain the second that abuse slid out of her mouth.

Quick to avoid that conversation, Yoongi sputtered, “I’ll give you the story tomorrow, hyung, but I really need to go. Can we push the fishing thing to another day?"

“Oh, I forgot to book the boat, so don’t worry about it!” Seokjin cheered and Yoongi was this close to following through with chucking his phone like a grenade. “Have fun with —” 

Not inclined to wait another second, Yoongi hung up and turned to sprint up the alley towards the bar’s entrance. When he reached it and found the lights out, he skidded to a stop so forcefully that he almost fell over. What the fuck? He tugged at the door handle just to make sure he wasn’t missing something. 

Didn’t he tell you he was going to make a phone call? 

Fuck! He'd said I'll call. He didn't say that he was going to call Seokjin, and he sure as shit hadn't clarified that he was going to do so right that second. There'd been no explanation, no “please wait because I promise I’m coming right back for you" — just a mad dash out the door to get rid of the only thing standing between him and more time with you. 

Shit, shit, shit. 

Yoongi never indulged in unadulterated rage because he decided a long time ago that it took more effort than it was worth. In that moment, though, he felt the overwhelming urge to punch himself right in the face. How did he fuck it all up this badly?

Instead, Yoongi scrubbed his hands over his face and begged his brain to figure out a better plan. He couldn’t just call you because he was too busy making googly eyes at you to ask for your number. He couldn’t pick the lock because it was illegal — and because he didn’t know how.

Unable to do anything else, Yoongi threw his head back with every intention of screaming at the sky. But before he could let his frustration rip out of his mouth, he saw it: his saving grace. 

Mere moments after he sprinted up the alley, Yoongi was tearing back down it like his life depended on it. The end of the iron emergency ladder sat too high off the ground for him to comfortably reach it, but — thankfully — he had garbage at his disposal. Without a second thought, he stacked whatever semi-sturdy trash he could find to bridge the gap between him and your fire escape. 

With all the strength and recklessness of a lovestruck teenager, Yoongi threw his twenty-four-year-old body upwards and grabbed hold of the nearest rung.

Maybe you overestimated that strength a little bit, eh, Yoongi?

He gritted his teeth and pulled himself up enough to swing a leg up, too. Groaning triumphantly, he hooked the bottom of his shoe on the lowest rung. 

From there, it was easy enough to reach the first landing. When it came time for Yoongi to tackle the other two, he picked up the pace — and he didn’t give a shit about how sore he’d be tomorrow. 

Finally, finally, finally, he reached his destination. Unfortunately, that fleeting moment of relief was replaced by fear as he stooped down to knock on your window. Staring back at him through the darkness was a pair of big, yellow eyes.

Yoongi shouted as he stumbled away from the window. He knocked over a planter on his way down, landing on his ass with a crash and a grunt. Adding insult to injury, that black cat looked positively smug as it stared down at him.  

It was quiet when you called out — in English — from another room. “Toph, did you break something? I thought we talked about this, bub." As your voice grew closer, you switched to Korean, "You can't ruin my stuff until you start contributing to this household.”

What's the incubation period for lovesickness?

Yoongi heard footsteps headed towards whatever room he’d failed to break and enter. He saw the light as it flicked on, and then he saw you — wearing a fluffy, tan headband with little, round ears at the top —with a bare face glistening as if you’d just finished tending to it.

Oh, fuck. Is lovesickness terminal? 

If your eyes opened any wider, they might’ve fallen right out of your skull. They would’ve landed where Yoongi did — in the mass grave of pepper sprouts he’d just outright annihilated. But they stayed beautiful where they belonged, and you simply gawked at each other. 

Yoongi spoke first despite not thinking first. “Toph? Like, Beifong?” 

Your shock gave way to the biggest, brightest smile and Yoongi was thankful it didn’t blind him. If it did, he would’ve missed the way your cheeks went pink to match the tips of your ears. Whatever the shade, it was his new favorite color.

Just bury me in this potting soil, doll. I'm dead. 

“Yoongi,” You started with a giggle that turned into a hum when you pursed your lips and tilted your head. Your eyes narrowed and then you asked, “Any reason why you chose the fire escape over the door?” 

The what? 

Sensing his confusion, you leaned out the window and pointed. Yoongi’s eyes followed the invisible line from your fingertip until they located an awning, which sat mere meters away from his impromptu stepstool made of trash.  

Inwardly, he winced. Outwardly, he turned to you with a lopsided smile. “I was checking out your little garden."

Yoongi cleared his throat, now wincing outwardly, “And, uh — then I killed it, a little bit. I promise I’ll replace everything as soon as the shops open. I am so —” 

“Cold? I bet,” You interrupted with a smirk, “Come inside then, Min Yoongi. Just don’t break the window too, alright?” 

You didn’t have to tell him twice.

Immediately, he was on his feet, furiously dusting potting soil off the back of his legs. When he suspected that he’d gotten it all, Yoongi turned around and glanced at you over his shoulder. Even without a question, you knew what he was asking; you signaled okay with your fingers and a giggle. 

With more care than he’d ever shown in his life, Yoongi crawled through the gap you created when you ducked back through the window. Once he had his feet underneath him again, he quickly toed off his shoes and plucked them off the tile.

As soon as he was upright again, you took his wrist in your hand — oh god, your skin is so criminally soft — and led him through your kitchen to the living room. 

Gently, you set his shoes down on the mat beside your front door. Then, you turned back around to gaze up at him. Looking at that face of yours, Yoongi forgot every word he’d ever learned. It was just his hammering heart beating in time with yours, until: 

“So, this is where I live.”

You were close enough that Yoongi could smell the toothpaste on your breath when you spoke, but still too far. You must’ve thought so, too, because you shifted your weight to your other foot and wound up slightly nearer to him. 

Yoongi hummed in reply, though he could barely hear it over his pulse pounding in his ears, “It’s nice.”

He didn’t actually know if that was the case because he’d spent every second so far staring at you, but he had faith that you’d prove him right.

More quiet, more anticipation disguised as quickening breaths.

Like a magnet, you drew him in. Yoongi echoed every tiny move you made towards him until the distance was gone; and he could feel the heat of your body mere centimeters from his.

This close, he could see flecks of gold in your irises that he hadn’t noticed before. Yoongi knew he shouldn't have been surprised. If he'd learned a single thing tonight it was that hidden treasures were par for the course with you.

“Yoongi.” 

It was baffling how you could sound so shy, even with desire blowing your pupils wide. Just as confounding was the fact that Yoongi knew, without question, that you felt it, too — that this new and perfect something was the start of everything.

“Please, just kiss me already.” 

That wasn’t an opportunity he’d ever expect to turn down. 

You were already breathless, weightless, and floating in fucking space when you finally crossed over the threshold into your bedroom.

Because, fuck, that man took your oxygen with him whenever his lips left yours. Without even trying, he’d fashioned himself into a ventilator that you really might suffocate without.  

Thankfully, whenever he pulled away, he didn’t stray far. Even as you both stumbled towards your unmade bed, tripping over obstacles — up to and including Toph, whose favorite spot was between your ankles — there was always one hand on your hip and another lacing fingers through your hair. 

As you moved, you couldn’t help thinking of the leftovers you’d brought home from work before. All single-use encounters, wastes of time that you normally didn’t care to recall. Though he may end up being the last, Yoongi wasn’t the first person to have you in this position.

He was, however, the only person to rescind his tongue just to comment on the tiny, design details of your shit-box apartment. 

“How did you —” He paused to moan into your mouth when your teeth gently claimed his bottom lip. “Find a place with — oh, fuck, you taste like spearmint – original crown-molding in this —” The back of his knees bumped into the edge of your mattress and suddenly, he was sitting. “Neighborhood?” 

There was no way you could ever explain Min Yoongi’s duality. He was unequivocally, fatally hot — and simultaneously, he was the most endearing, grandfatherly person you’d ever encountered. Somehow, this mind-boggling man turned architectural factoids into dirty talk.

You might orgasm on the spot if he brought up your built-ins, and you didn’t know or care what that said about you as a person. 

“I’ll show you the blueprints later if you want,” you giggled while Yoongi ‘s cheeks flushed. Before he could find a reason to feel embarrassed, you tilted his chin up in order to kiss him properly. As you did, you murmured against his lips, “But if you take those jeans off, there’s something else I’d like to show you first.” 

Your little finger was near to his throat as you held his chin captive, so you felt it when it when he growled. Against your knuckle, in your chest, and in that growing ache in between your thighs. There was roughness in him that you’d only seen snippets of, but you’d bet that you could pull it out if you tried.  

Maybe not now while you were both masking nerves, but eventually. 

When Yoongi made to stand, you backed up to give him room to do so. You were already on your knees when his belt came off, unbuttoning his jeans before the leather even hit the floor. As you pulled that zipper down — slowly and carefully — you glanced up at him from under your lashes and watched the breath catch in his chest. 

It wasn’t the first time you noticed how fucking beautiful he was; in fact, that thought had been looping through your mind all night. But there was something new in his expression as he observed you taking his cock into your hand.

Something reverent, like he believed he should be the one on their knees.

A few languid, kitten licks at the tip, and his eyelids fluttered. They screwed shut entirely as you ran the flat of your tongue along the vein underneath. When your mouth finally enveloped him fully, his head drooped backwards as he groaned. 

Your name would never sound better than it did exhaled from Yoongi’s chest. 

More often than not, fellatio felt like an obligation. A quid pro quo, you always figured, though none of them kept up their end of the deal. But with Yoongi buried in the wet heat of your mouth, it was a gift you might never get tired of giving. Every breathy moan and involuntary twitch felt like a prize — and still, neither came close to the way it felt when he looked at you. 

In those fleeting moments when he could focus, of course. 

“I’m fucking dreaming,” Yoongi groaned, bringing his hands up and scrubbing them over his face. “Shit. Perfect figment of my imagination, that’s the only explanation for you. Where the fuck have you been my whole life?” 

You hummed as you let him slip out of your mouth. In turn, it prompted a flurry of expletives to slip out of his. Tracing a feather-light line from hilt to head, you smirked up at him, “Waiting at a bar for you to show up, Min Yoongi. You sure did take your time.” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” He laughed, “I already plan to regret that for the next — I don't know — forever?”

He dropped his hands from over his eyes and held them out to you. “Come here, angel. You’re too far away.” 

As soon as you were back on your feet, Yoongi enveloped you in the warmth of his arms. You were halfway to melting when he kissed you; dead and gone when he laid you back against the mattress; and downright astral projecting when the weight of his body was added to yours.  

Not to be dramatic, but is heaven a place on Earth? 

With your head resting comfortably on the pillow, you gazed up at Yoongi as he addressed the tied waistband of your sweatpants. It wasn’t until that knot came undone that you realized: if he’d come home with you earlier — before you’d swapped out your street clothes for shapeless knits — he would’ve had a prettier present to unwrap.  

Lace over your hip bones instead of cotton briefs. A black, balconette bra that made your tits into something worth looking at; not lackluster bareness that barely registered under your paint-stained t-shirt.  

Unintentionally mimicking him, you covered your face with your hands to conceal the way you were blushing. You didn’t even dare to peek through your fingers at him while he dragged your sweatpants down over your legs.

That is, not until you heard the world’s softest chuckle and it hit you like a bus. 

“Pretty girl,” Yoongi hummed. He left a chaste kiss on the top of your left thigh, and you whimpered. So sweet, so brief that your skin still tingled when he moved to mirror that kiss on your right thigh. “Where’d you go, baby?” 

Baby.  

That settled it. Min Yoongi was trying to kill you.

Nobody kissed you that carefully, not ever. No man, no woman, no one in between or beyond spoke to you that softly; turned you to putty in their hands with gentleness alone. Not like he did.

You were going to love him — you already knew it — and that stupid, four-letter word just sealed your fate. There wasn’t a single thing that you could do to prevent it, even if you wanted to. So, your options were limited to one:

Leaning into the fall. 

You reached out with the hand that once covered your face and grabbed him by the shirt to pull him closer. Once he was within range, with the tip of his nose bumping into yours, you stared him dead in the eye and told him just how badly you needed him inside of you. 

It took no time at all for the two of you to cast aside what remained of your clothing. Hand-me-downs mingled with designer items that exceeded the cost of your rent, and you didn’t give a fuck. You discarded your inhibitions in that heap, too, sitting up on your knees as he rolled a condom down his length. 

Yoongi’s return to you was marked by his hands cupping your face. He kissed you until you were no longer breathless, until you felt the rush of air filling your lungs. You followed his lead back down to the mattress where he rested on his side; and without any need for instruction, you draped your right leg over his hip. 

It was the closet you’d been to him, but it still wasn’t close enough 

“Is this okay?” Yoongi broke the kiss just to look at you.  

The fondness in his eyes was competing with concern, but that didn’t surprise you. Considerate to a fault, he’d no doubt been thrown for a loop when you went from zero to one hundred in merely half a second. “I can —” 

Oh, I bet you can.  

But you couldn’t wait. Impatient, through and through — and thoroughly dripping — you shook your head.

Your hand left its place on his bare bicep and dipped down to wrap around his cock. There were two individual heartbeats hammering in sync as you guided him to your cunt, though it sounded a lot like one. 

“Like you said earlier,” You sighed as he pushed into you. “Just right.” 

Six years later...

tagging: @mgthecat @jihopesjoint @jaejoontrashpanda @taebaelove @cyanide-mustard @xjoonchildx @borahae-k @i-purple-buff-bunni @pamzn @myimaginationsrunningwild @nonbinary-demonbrat @yoongiphoria @sstarryoong @xcherrywaltz @btschimeyplanet @persphonesorchid @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @goodsoop @jkoofier (couldn't tag)

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likes are always appreciated, but it's feedback that means the most — whether that's in a comment below, PM, reblog, tags, etc. tysm for reading ✨

a/n: holy shit. just, holy shit. i've spent less time on literal thesis papers than i did on this. i'm so thankful for everyone who blew up darksided and blindsided — i really hope this provides context for how these two got together, and how tf they love each other that much. i will not apologize for the sexual cliffhanger because this smut wasn't going to be included, initially! this was going to end at the bar, lol.

also, this is an ode to those very special (very impermanent) nights with someone new that feel like perfect lifetimes in just the span of a few hours. in my experience, they never went anywhere (which i think made them more special, in hindsight) but i wanted to write a fic where things didn't stop there.

anyways, i'm very tired of writing words now, so please enjoy and let me know what you think 🫶🏻

[babymetaldoll]

"It's ok if you are not ok" - Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

A/N: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins Comfort fic challenge. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Prompt: Character is insecure about a physical attribute

Dialogue prompt: "It's ok if you are not ok"

Warnings: Mention of postpartum depression

Summary: Reader feels ugly and a very bad mom after having their first baby, and Spencer comforts her.

Masterlist 

The apartment was oddly quiet that night when Spencer got home after a long day at work. He was currently on a sabbatical from the BAU, teaching a few classes in Georgetown. His wife and newborn baby usually waited for him in the living room. They would welcome him with big smiles. But today, it was different. Their entire place was silent, and there was no sign of his wife or baby. 

Automatically, Spencer’s brain started working in paranoia, remembering all the BAU cases he had worked on. His instinct told him something was wrong, and he thought the worst in two seconds. 

- “Chipmunk?”- he asked and slowly walked inside the apartment. He went for the gun he kept hidden in the kitchen cabinet and slowly made his way down the hall and to the master bedroom. All the lights were out, and the floor creaked slowly as Spencer walked and opened the door. No one was in the room. It didn’t look good. He walked to the nursery and found his daughter fast asleep. A deep sigh of relief left his chest as he put away the gun and closed the door on his way out. 

- “(Y/N)? Where are you?”- his wife wasn’t answering and that was scary. His heart was still beating hard inside his chest, as he made his way into their shared bedroom. 

A soft whimper caught his attention, and slowly opened their walk-in closet door. There she was, sitting on the floor, crying against a gigantic pillow, trying not to make a noise. 

- “Chipmunk, what happened?”- Spencer didn’t waste a minute and quickly kneeled in front of her, wrapping his arms around her, trying to comfort her in any and every way possible. 

- “Nothing Spencer, nothing, I’m sorry”- she mumbled and continued crying. Spencer moved her and sat her on his lap, trying to console her. She hid her face in the crook of his neck and made her best effort to stop sobbing, but she couldn’t. That broke Spencer’s heart. 

- “What happened? Are you hurt?”- he whispered and she shook her head. 

- “Ma cherie, what is wrong?” 

- “I… I can’t do this, Spencer.”- the young woman sobbed and wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck, holding onto him, trying to keep her sanity. 

- “What happened, ma cherie? Why are you crying?”- he murmured in her ear and kissed her temple. Spencer rocked her body sweetly and tried to console her. But she seemed to be inconsolable, brokenhearted.

- “I can’t… I can’t do this. I am not a good mom for Raven, and I look… I look gross! You will never want me again.”- (Y/N) simply exploited and continued crying her heart out. And just in time, their baby girl, Raven, started crying as well. 

Spencer sighed and kissed his wife’s forehead. She moved from his lap and let him go take care of their baby. (Y/N) just hugged her pillow again and tried to put herself together. She didn’t want Spencer to see her like that, so weak and pathetic. But she couldn’t hold it any longer. It had been weeks of trying to act like everything was ok. It had taken everything in her to look like she didn’t feel like dying on the inside. But she did. 

Every day, Spencer would help her with their baby, and whenever he was around, everything seemed perfect. But as soon as he left for classes, it all turned uphill for the new mother. 

(Y/N) felt Raven hated her. She would cry for hours whenever it was just the two of them. She wouldn’t eat or sleep. It felt like the baby could feel Spencer wasn’t around, which would trigger her in the worst way. Of course, (Y/N) felt like the worst mother on earth. She couldn’t comfort her baby, probably her baby didn’t even like her. 

And to make it all worse, she had bought a little lingerie set to surprise Spencer that weekend, but when she tried it on, it didn’t look good on her. Not even close. She was still losing weight after having their baby, and she felt so ugly and despicable, she was sure her husband was going to leave her eventually, with their baby. And she would end up alone. 

(Y/N) felt like a total failure. And what she heard on the baby monitor didn’t help. 

- “Hey Raven”- Spencer walked into their baby’s room and she immediately stopped crying. It was like magic. That never happened with her. Why? Why did her daughter hate her so much? 

- “How is my pretty baby girl?”- (Y/N) imagined him holding their little girl and kissing her forehead, like he always did, smiling as his lips softly caressed her skin. Such a loving gesture that always made her smile. She heard her daughter cooing and (Y/N)’s heart ached. Somehow she even felt like she wasn’t needed in her house. Her family was great without her. No one needed her. 

(Y/N) turned off the baby monitor ‘cos the evidence of her failure as a mother was too hard to deal with at the moment. She curled and hid underneath her pillow, and decided to stay there until she was forced to move. 

That happened two minutes later when Spencer walked in holding Raven in his arms. 

- “Say hello to mommy”- he whispered and moved closer to (Y/N), who stayed hidden underneath her pillow. 

- “It’s ok… mommy is busy right now.”- she whispered- “Maybe your daddy can give you your bottle. I pumped some milk and left it on the fridge after lunch.” 

Spencer stared at his wife, hidden on the floor under a pillow and a blanket, and sighed. He knew he had to take care of Raven first, and it hurt him to leave (Y/N) behind. But she understood, of course, she did. Because she loved their daughter. 

The baby had her bottle and soon fell asleep again. Spencer walked her to her room and made sure she was fast asleep before going back to his wife. He stopped by the kitchen and poured her a cup of peppermint tea for her. He also grabbed a bag of marshmallows, her favorite comfort food when sad. He had no idea what was going on, but he was willing to try anything to make sure she felt better.

- “Hey, chipmunk.”- Spencer whispered as he walked inside the walk-in closet and found his wife still on the floor. She didn’t move as he slowly and carefully sat beside her. 

- “Come here, ma cherie. I made you tea.”- she still didn’t move, so Spencer carefully moved his hands underneath the blanket until he found his wife. He caressed her back carefully until she slowly moved. 

- “Come here”- he wrapped his arms around her and sat her on his lap one more time. She sobbed and wiped the tears from her cheeks, trying not to look like she had been crying for over two hours. 

- “You have to believe me, (Y/N). You are amazing.”- he whispered and kissed her cheek. But his wife shook her head and bit her lips, trying not to cry anymore- “I mean this, love. You are an incredible mother to our baby.” 

- “She hates me. She doesn’t like me at all. Whenever you are not home, she starts fuzzing and crying. And I can’t comfort her, no matter how much I try.”- the young woman whispered embarrassedly. 

- “That’s not true, ma cherie. Our baby loves you so much. You are the only one who can calm her down in the middle of the night. And it’s you the one who can bathe her. And you nurse her.”- Spencer’s voice was a soft whisper trying to soothe her.  

- “She doesn’t like me, Batsy. I feel it inside.”

His wife's statement broke Spencer’s heart because he could read how much she believed it. And of course, it wasn’t true at all. He knew their baby loved her mother. But he could understand how hard parenthood could be, and (Y/N) did spend a lot of hours alone with Raven. It could be too much.  

- “You are just overwhelmed. And it’s ok, chipmunk. You are an amazing woman, and you are doing just great.” 

- “Spencer, don’t lie! I am awful at this! Soon you are gonna discover I am a bad mom and you are gonna realize my body is gross after having a baby and you are gonna leave me.”

- “Come on, ma cherie. I am never going to think that of you.”

- “Yes you will”- she whispered and opened the robe she was wearing and showed him part of the lingerie set she had bought to surprise him- “Look, I’m gross. I’m fat, and my tits look awful and my nipples hurt…”

Spencer looked at her and sighed. His eyes traveled from her breast to her stomach, the stretch marks she now had, and the loose skin. His right hand followed the trail of his eyes, caressing her body and toying with the edges of the set she was wearing. 

- “This is very nice.”- he whispered in her ear. 

- “You don’t need to pretend I look hot. I know I don’t.” 

- “Don’t say that. You are the hottest woman I’ve ever seen, and I would do you all night long if I could.” 

- “Spencer…”- but his lips captured hers before she could argue anymore. He kissed his wife with all the love and lust he had for her. Which was, in fact, a lot. 

- “No, I’m not gonna let you believe any of those things. It's alright if you're not okay, and I understand it, ‘cos we just had a baby a few months ago and everything is different. Nobody said it was going to be easy, but trust me when I say, Raven loves you, and I love you even more. This body that you hate so much right now, it’s the most incredible body I’ve ever seen. You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever seen. You made me a dad, you gave me a daughter. I don’t care how you look, you will always be the most beautiful woman to me.”

Spencer kissed her lips again, and run his thumbs across her cheeks, wiping the tears that kept falling from her eyes. 

- “And you don’t think I’m crazy’”- she whispered and he shook his head, smiling. 

- “Never. I love you, ma cherie. Always have, always will.” 

(Y/N) sighed and kissed Spencer’s lips one more time. He just stared at her in adoration for a moment, until his hand slowly started opening her robe. 

- “What are you doing?”- she asked raising an eyebrow. 

- “I’m curious about the rest of this set…”

- “I can show you later. Right now, I need you to hold me for a little longer.”- (Y/N) admitted and felt Spencer’s lips on her forehead. 

- “Anything my wife desires. I would do anything to make you happy, ma cherie.” 

[2024-grimoire-challenge]

June Week 1: The Wheel

Even if you don't prescribe to the popularized Wheel of the Year ideology, your year rolls on, as a wheel does, and continues day into day, month into month and year into year. And there is a cycle to that rolling wheel, even if for you it is only the seasons.

So this month we'll be taking a look at that wheel, at our year, and how the changes in the seasons influence our practices, if at all, along with what things we celebrate or acknowledge throughout the year. Let's dive in!

Monday - Seasons/ Sabbats/ Esbats/ Holidays

Research/ New Pages - So this is going to be a lot of new pages, if you feel like making them. Make a page for each of the holidays you celebrate, if you feel the need. Anything from the wheel of the year, to important cultural holidays you celebrate, to holidays you acknowledge in general. Do basic research, beyond the things you already know about those holidays. As an example, Imbolc, part of the wheel of the year. When is it? What is it? How is it celebrated? Why is it celebrated? What is its history, myths and legends? What magic is associated with it? What deity, if any? What are other associations it has? What foods are related to this holiday? What activities? Make a general page for each of the things you celebrate that you can come back to as you learn more about them and celebrate them over time!

Research/ New Pages - If you associate more with the general seasons, make a page for each season. When, for you, does the season start and end? What is associated with it? Both in your practice and in your life, how do you relate to the season? As much info as you can gather!

Tuesday - Transitional Periods

Research/ Introspection - As we observe the wheel of the year there are periods where they seemingly overlap at times, or when things are in a transitional period. Not quite summer, but not yet fall. Are there any associations for these periods of time? Certain magic or events associated with these times? Think not only about the world, but about yourself during these time periods. How do you feel, where do you fit in? How does this transitional period influence you and your practice?

Introspection/ Meditation - Think about how the weather and the seasons effect you. Do you get sad on rainy days? Do you get the winter time blues or seasonal depression? Are you happier on sunny days? Dig deep and try to discern the reason for these feelings, good or bad. It could be simple psychology, ya know, sunlight does in fact help our brains feel happy. Or it could be something deeper. Think hard and journal the experience have your introspection.

Wednesday - Personal Holidays

Research/ Introspection/ New Page - What are the holidays you celebrate? How do you celebrate them and why? Are they part of your craft or are they just days you celebrate? Make a page for each that you can expand on at a later date!

Research/ New Page - Herbal research - Pick another herb from your list and discover all that you can about it! Everything from the magical, to the mundane! Practical and medicinal uses, culinary uses, myths and legends, what is it associated with and why is it associated with those things!

Thursday - Activites through the year

Introspection/ Journal - Are there any yearly activites you participate in? Anything you only do once or a few times a year because of the timing or certain events or schedules? Why does that schedule exist and what is the importance of the activity? For example, my mom's coworkers have a yearly hog roast to kick off the summer. It's become rather the huge event. We all go out to her friend's farm, they dig a pit, clean it up, everyone camps in campers or tents for a couple days. There's games, karaoke in the barn, swimming and so so much food. I learned more about why they do it after talking to my parents and other people that were there. Do you do anything similar? If so, what is the significance?

Friday - Enjoy the weather

Practical - get up, get out, and no matter the season, enjoy your current weather. Connect to the wind, the rain, the sun, the earth. Take a breath and a break from the challenge today and exist. Cause the world is a heavy place sometimes, but it is also the things carrying you through life. Connect to it and enjoy it!

That's it for this week! I hope you're all doing well, and i'm getting ready for the summer along with taking care of the coming weeks of the challenge so i can sit back for a while as they post. Continue to carry on, practice safe witchcraft and enjoy the things you do!

-Mod Hazel

[ianthoni]

Weird anon ask : This is 100% fanfic brain, but i like the idea of Anthony being insecure about Ian being the the one to leave next, like "i left and found myself, Ian gets to have a sabbatical as well”. Or about one of them being insecure about "Anthony leaving when things get hard " irl i don't believe this is the case, they are mature well-adjusted adults and owning Smosh outright neither of them will leave..... probably. But for the angst factor i like the idea of them loving each other but having a “he could leave and be better off ” felling until they scream at each other.

But from the assumptions video it’s believable Anthony would have thought “he was here through the bad times, and I wasn’t”, because Ian could have lest Smosh die and walk away when Defy shut down but he didn’t.

I think till recent times Ian was so afraid to Anthony is gonna leave again like he actually had abandonment issues. To a degree that he stops himself from saying simple things to Anthony. Like in the funeral how he said he was surprised Anthony could take roasts well he didn't even roast Anthony in the funeral roast. Or when he just wants to say something simple he holds himself from saying it. He said he sometimes is too rude and says things directly and hurts people i think this is coming from Anthony's diary where he said Ian was a bitter person and took his bitterness from others by being mean. What's so interesting to me is Erin or others bts always wants Ian whenever he says something simple. Like in one of the recent lives he called Anthony dumb or something but a silly way not actually. And i think it was Erin that warned him not to do it. I think he probably told them to warn him if he was being mean to Anthony and that's what they're doing but this also affect his relationship with Anthony because Anthony wants him to be vulnerable with him. He wants Ian to talk to him unfiltered. But again lately Ian doesn't hold himself back and joke around with Anthony so I'm assuming he comes over this fear a little now.

For Anthony i don't think he's ever afraid Ian is gonna leave but i think he kinda is sad/regrets that he was not around and couldn't help him when Ian was at his lowest. Cause you can see in his eyes every time Ian/ someone talks about how Ian was struggling at the time and depressed he looks sad like genuinely. He has this protective possession over Ian he wants to protect him and help him at all costs. So i think from his point he is sad that he left Ian alone and that depressed.

To end this good after the assumptions video i can say they are matured about this. Like they are aware of each other's pain and traumas and they show they care about each other. But they are finally moved on from that. Like Ian saying "oh we were busy i didn't notice" about the missing time between. I think they went to a lot of therapy and talk to each other a lot and decided that "we should move on, we should live our present, we should focus on our future, we shouldn't just sit and mourn over the lost time" and that's why now they're saying they needed that time and now they're better than ever. I think they accepted that it is what it is and it had to happen so they can move on from that. And honestly I'm so proud of them coming this far as mental health and as best friends. I'm so proud of both.

[nerdieforpedro]

The Long Road to Together

Tommy Miller x Original plus size female character (Velora)

Fanfiction 18+

Masterlist

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, drug addiction mention, pain management, anxiety, PTSD, mentions of death, possible dub con (maybe), body worship, Tommy Miller's dirty talk, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), P in V (practice safe sex everyone), pregnancy kink, domestic fluff, cheesy jokes

Summary: Velora has been apart of the Miller brothers' lives decades. She's particularly close to Tommy. They've shared countless memories with each other over the years and in a single night everything changes. If only they'd get out of their own way.

Notes: So, I put many subjects and themes I've wanted to write about in here. It should make sense, I had the wonderful @musings-of-a-rose beta it for me and as a fellow Tommy fan, I trust her. I did also add a subplot with Joel because, why not try one out? I really enjoyed this and for Tommy's character. I have a different take on him.

Word count: just under 16K (because Tommy's worth it!)

“You got anything for a bad back?” 

“Nothing that will actually take care of the pain. Best I can promise you is to dull it. You need to go see a specialist, Joel.”

“That sounds like it’s gonna take time I don’t have. You know I gotta…”

“Yeah, I know. Just let me know what appointments they have and I’ll see what my shifts are like old man. You can’t be folding over when Sarah’s just getting into high school. There will be boys there!” 

A slap was heard to Joel’s shoulder and he winced, letting out a curse as he hunched over further at his desk. The stress of running the business by himself was getting to him. Tommy had taken a sabbatical as he called it, the timing had been pretty poor. Thankfully, he had a woman who he considered a little sister to help him out. Her father had been friends with theirs and they always hung out together as children. In middle school, the family moved away for a time, but returned while the Miller brothers were in the middle of high school. Velora had just started high school and looked similar to how she did now, telling dumbass jokes, finding a reason to smack Joel and always being supportive. 

He organized the files that he would need for tomorrow and in particular, permits needed for a job the company would be starting on a ranch outside of Austin. Rebuilding a stable wasn’t too out of their depth, Joel just needed to research more on the permits required which he did, but damn if all the reading was making his head hurt even with his glasses on, add his back pain to that and he was miserable. He missed riding horses, but not so much he was willing to risk not being able to move for a few days. Velora had taken over administrative tasks that Tommy normally did as he was better at it and knew how to navigate the different offices they normally had to deal with the state and city, he was also much better at schmoozing suits and the like than his grumpy self. Velora helped out on her days off in between her shifts at the hospital. She sent Joel off for the evening and put away files that the elder Miller brother had taken out for review. 

“He’s got to learn to put this stuff back. Otherwise he’s never going to find anything.” Velora griped, she wore gray capri leggings because they were easy to move in and matched her white t-shirt. Usually she would dress a bit better for the office in case Joel brought any clients by, but he had been out most of the day, leaving her to get phone calls, further organize items and files. She was also trying to understand Tommy’s organization system which even though he had explained it over the phone twice, she still didn’t understand. “He’s been gone three weeks, like I get it but also I still don’t get what I’m looking at. It’s not even organized by color, number or alphabet, what the fuck is this?” Her brain hurt trying to work out the system. She thought Tommy had mentioned to her that it was by the date they took the client on, but there was no distinction between finished jobs and complete ones as those were mixed in and with different dates. “I feel like he could tell me five more times and I wouldn’t get it.” Shaking her head, she put the files where she thought they went near the front of the file cabinet and locked up the office, heading out to her car and driving home. Once in front of her small two bedroom, one and a half bath house, she sighed, happy to be home. She had a shift again tomorrow, but hopefully Joel would actually look for an appointment. Icy hot, tiger balm and heat packs could only do so much. Velora understood why Joel didn’t want to go to a pain clinic, he’d have to tell them about his past addiction issues with alcohol and it may affect his treatment plan, hell with some doctors, they just keep recommending tylenol and ibuprofen when that clearly hasn’t been working for him. He needed good pain management.

Kicking off her shoes, Velora flopped back on the couch and started at the ceiling. It was 8:30 at night. Too early to go to bed and too late to start any shows or movies.

“Where are you Tommy Miller?”

Elsewhere in the world…

The grass was crisp under his feet, the sun had just set not too long ago as he walked back down to the rock outcrop overlooking the rolls of green grass he had seen earlier that day. He couldn’t sleep again. The younger Miller brother had been worried about his brother Joel. He knew he didn’t deal too well with people even with Velora helping him. But he would text Joel later and maybe give Velora a call. There was more he needed to discuss with her than anyone else.

It had been seven years. They seemed to have passed by in a blink of an eye. Tommy recalled first joining the US Army, doing his patriotic duty and a way to use up the excess aggression he had from not really knowing where he was going next in life. At first it was fine, basic training then he was assigned to a platoon where he got to know other soldiers. It was when he was assigned to the 1st Armored Division that his optimism started to wear thin. His core group consisted of himself and five other members; they actually made it through Operation desert storm. What he saw there, the things he did, he never spoke about them except with the group and one person removed from the war. But the bodies, the smells, the tastes,, the sounds all of it overloaded everyone. Each man had their own way of dealing with it. One of the group was dishonorably discharged for using heroin he found overseas, but the Army never said what they did with the rest of it after removing it from belongings. He wasn’t the only one they confiscated it from, anyone who had it was dishonorably discharged but it was never made public what happened with the drugs. It was also never mentioned in great detail what they did to the country of Iraq. No one ever mentioned completely decimating and crippling a country, nearly burning it down to its foundation only for the same people who supplied the Army’s weapons and gear to switch profit off of a land that they aided in destroying. 

Tommy left the army after seven years of service, thankfully his brother allowed him in the construction company to work so he wouldn’t go completely insane. But his ‘Ironsides’ members weren’t so lucky. One died from an opioid overdose, another from drunk driving and two from suicide by gunshot. None of the funerals were covered fully by the VA, each family only received $1500 toward burial costs, but had full honors with all the pomp and circumstance. The two cousins in their group asked to have their ashes spread to their home which was Ireland, the only reason the veteran came to this place. It was beautiful though he had to admit. He may want to bring Joel and Sarah here, his brother would complain the entire time but he may get a grin out of it and Sarah would enjoy exploring the land. The younger Miller wondered if he should ask Velora to come too, she wasn’t one for the cold, but may like the greenery too. Watching his oldest friend muddle around the hilly terrain would be fun, he could steady her, show her the lakes and watch the sunset with her. Tommy felt he may not have cried as much if his Sweet Pea was here, she could crack a joke or just let him hold her, rock him  slowly as his head was on her shoulder. 

With two urns, one under each arm, Tommy carefully set one down and opened one, pouring the ashes out to scatter across the cool breeze that was blowing. He did the same with the second urn, waiting until another wind could carry the ashes away. Tommy had taken more time then he told Joel and Velora he would be gone, he didn’t mean to stay longer. It was just easier, he could work though his emotions more and not risk breaking down in front of them, though that had failed with Velora the night he told her he was going to spread that ashes per his brothers-in-arms wishes. 

Four weeks ago…

He had mentioned it like he was going to the store. She had asked him to explain and he didn’t. Tommy wasn’t going to until she pulled him into a hug. He didn’t realize it at the time, but tears had been running down his face. He remembered the warmth of her embrace and settled into the couch with her, almost laying on top of her to cuddle. She just ran her fingers through his hair, they didn’t say anything to each other, he tried to make as little noise as possible while sobbing. Her red shirt she had been wearing was soaked with his tears. Velora never mentioned his crying when he followed her to the bedroom and demanded to sleep next to her, promising to only hold her hand. She had smiled and told him it was fine if he needed more from her, to take what he needed. No matter if it had been money, time, food or those three DVDs he never returned, his old friend never complained. Velora would just smile and tell him it was okay. Even when Joel would get pissed with Tommy about the direction the company was going in to missing a game or two of Sarah’s (he really tried not to but sometimes the suits at the city were really long winded and insisted on drinks),  Velora would be there in his stead for his niece and tell him play by play as much as she could of the game when she would stop by in the evening. The veteran recalled that the night had been humid, despite the fan running, moisture stuck to their skin. Velora was in her simple thin nightgown and Tommy just wore his boxer-briefs to bed. 

Tommy may have took that a few steps too far. 

The night began with him holding her hand, that was fine for a time but, then he took her into his arms from behind, drawn to her soft curves that accommodated his taut muscles. The delicate oche tone of her skin glowed within the moonlight. It was when he kissed the back of her neck and his hand went to her breasts that she pulled away from his touch slightly,

“Tommy…don’t play around and go to sleep.” He heard her say, he couldn’t make out the inflection of her voice. His friend’s hips wiggled toward him, his free hand grabbed her hip, pulling it toward him.

“I’m not Sweet Pea. I need to touch you more, just let me, just for tonight.” A growl emerged from his chest, his teeth grazed her shoulder before nipping her lightly. Her gasps encouraged him further, she never said it, but a small smile always came to her lips when Tommy called her that. 

“Alright, but just…ah..” Velora wasn’t given a chance to finish her sentence. Her breast was plopped out of her nightgown as his hips grinded into hers. Tommy kept calling her his sweet pea in her ear and she reached a hand back to try and reach his cock, to feel it. “J-Just put a condom on and stick it in…” An order that Tommy wasn’t willing to follow right now, instead he pulled away from her, quickly slipped his boxers off and turned Vel on her back. “W-What are you doing? Why didn’t you just-” The nightgown she had on was over her head, the veteran hovered over her, he knew she would be angry but he would not fuck her the first time. Maybe the second time but not the first. Tommy had already planned other times he may bend her over. He wanted to make love to her in this moment, subsequent encounters could be messy and quick but the younger Miller brother wanted to savor her body as Velora was now, only for him..

“You told me to take what I needed.” His mouth took her erect nipple and large chocolate areola into his mouth, hearing her scream the first time convinced him that this was right. Her hands ran through his then medium length raven hair, tugging on it, his chest pressed into her stomach, sinking in it. The sensation had him grunt onto her nipple, rolling it with his tongue, his legs wrapped around her calf, his length dragging against her leg. Her body continued to writhe under his, his face soon in between her breasts nuzzling the sensitive skin between. Velora was looking down at him, panting, surprise on her face. She hadn’t expected him to fully undress her nor to try to explore her. “Velora,” Tommy paused and peered up at her, “I need all of you, so I’m going to take it all. Are you alright with that Sweet Pea?” He asked, moving upward and settling himself between her wide thighs. He wasn’t going to enter her yet. However, though she did spread her legs for him, Tommy closed her thighs around his waist so he could feel their soft embrace. 

“Yes, I told you to take what you need. I didn’t quite expect this way though.” Her digits danced along his bellybutton, then his stomach, not as firm as his military days, but still tight enough to display an ab or two. The pads of her fingers circle his nipples, small but at attention, all for her right now. “You don’t have to be gentle either Tommy. I’m here with you, for you. Just let go.”

“Sweet Pea, I want to be careful with you. You deserve that, always you hear?” Descending, he felt her heartbeat against her chest with his, glad to know he wasn’t the only one feeling like it might burst. “Give me your love Vel.” Lips crashed together, he bit her bottom lip, drawing a sliver of blood. He just said he’d be gentle but it was overwhelming, one of his hands took the back of her head and forced it forward, deepening the kiss, Vel mewled into his mouth and pressed her feet into the mattress to help move her hips forward, she felt the throbbing of Tommy’s cock just above her folds, a hand came between her and the velvet skin. Two fingers parted her lower lips and a squeal was heard when he released her head and it fell on the pillow. “Not yet Vel, gonna eat that dripping pussy.” He meant to use sweet words with her, that’s what she should be hearing, his Sweet Pea. Sliding back down, Tommy hoisted her thighs on his shoulders, giving each a small peck and pulling them so she could only see his hair for a small part of his forehead. When he spoke directly into her mound, he heard her say it,

“Fuck Tommy, make me cum. Sop my pussy up with your mouth!”

The younger Miller brother smacked his lips. “I’m going to have to see how dirty I can get you to talk Sweet Pea.” His nose ran up her slit, taking in her strong scent, he caressed her opening with his plush lips before slipping his tongue inside, rotating his the tip of his oral muscle was causing her cunt to quelch already, he then inserted it centimeter by centimeter , reveling in her screaming his name. His length continued to throb but his goal was to have her climax before entering her. The waves of contractions inside of her canal was constricting his tongue, he longed to have his cock inside of her, to have her continue to cry out his name while he could watch her face unravel. The pressure on the sides of his head increased as her large thighs pressed together in an effort to keep him right where he was, not that Tommy had plans to be anywhere else. His nose tickled her clit and provided a particularly strong clamp down from her. So he set his elbows against the mattress and forced his face against her mound, holding his breath as he used his nose and mouth to make her climax. With alternating curses, calling on the Lord and Tommy’s name, Velora reached her peak, the soldier was able to at least draw his face back a little before suckling on her clit, overloading her body, making it jerk. Tommy managed to inhale deeply, satisfied that his face was soaked with her scent and nectar. He ran two fingers through her cunt and brought them to her mouth. “Suck on them with that loud filthy mouth on yours. Turns out I needed this side of you love.” 

Her warm tongue quietly took her own juices from Tommy’s fingers, after they were clean, he got up from the bed and rummaged through his jacket and found a condom. He looked up at Velora who was turned on her side toward him, the easy shine of their affection for one another draped her body. Her curves and stretch marks on full display, ‘she’s mine’ he decided. ‘No one else’s, I’ll make damn sure of it.’ He crouched down next to the bed, meeting her at eye level, “Velora, you’re sure you’re alright with this next part?” He needed to know. They were friends first and foremost and he respected her boundaries, except tonight of course, but he wanted to make sure she was really okay with it. The woman nodded and took his hand in hers. 

“Tommy Miller, get in this bed and make love to me. You said you wanted my love. I’m giving it to you. Come to me.” She got up on her knees and held onto the headboard to keep herself from tipping over back onto the bed. “I told you to let go. Just have me. Please.” It was the look she gave him, so permissive and delicate. His arms wrapped around her once more as he kissed her, not deeply just to touch his lips against hers. Their foreheads touched and he met his nose with hers. 

“Velora, you’re a hellova woman.” Tommy smirked and laid her back, moving her toward the middle of the bed. He was in between her thighs once again as she opened herself before him. As he rolled the condom on his length, he marveled at her body; wide, tender, subdued and hushed for him, she bit down on her lip to quiet herself, presumably because he had mentioned volume and word choice. Tommy didn’t want her to quiet down now. He wanted her to go hoarse from calling his name, from what he did to her. Leaning forward, he pressed his tip into her folds, releasing himself and using both hands to cup her face, his thick fingers massaging her the top of her jaw, just under her ears, “Look at me Sweet Pea. Open your mouth, I want you to use those lungs.” A short nod from her was all it took, his hips eased forward and back easily for the first few pumps, only going in half way, keeping his eyes locked on hers as she cried out, 

“Oh…oh..fuck Tommy, you’re…spreading…me…” Velora whimpered, her thighs began to close again and his hands had to move to keep them open. His rhythm picked up as his elbows made contact with her knees pulling her legs back toward her chest and curling her body for a deeper angle, the pace picked up as he was now diving his cock fully into her flush with her mound and pulling back until only the head of length was inside of her. It was difficult, he could barely speak because her cunt kept sucking back in deeper, the slapping of their skin filled the room. Tommy raised one of her legs and turned his head to bite her calf, then licking it after, tracing his tongue over his teeth marks.

“This pussy is mine Sweet Pea, you won’t fit anyone else Vel. Goddamn you tight as a vice woman…” He murmured into her leg, pounding into her, he felt the pulse of his hardness growing closer to completion. Velora reached for Tommy, her arms stretched outward toward him, he dropped her legs and grabbed her love handles, continuing to roll his hips into hers. His forearms were scratched by her nails, leaving red marks on his olive skin. “Velora, you hear me? This cunt is mine only mine. Say it Sweet Pea.” A command with her pet name. It pushed her over the edge, 

“Shit yes, yes yes yes Tommy, my pussy’s just for you. Tommy Ahh!” Her neck flicked back as her walls closed around his heat, he was able to push into her six or seven more times before he released inside of her. The veteran didn’t pull out yet, dropping himself slowly on top of her plush form and ran his nose over her lips that were slightly parted, there was droop at the corner of her mouth, her eyes had tears dotting them, his large hand cupped her cheek against and tipped her face forward so her neck was no longer bent. “T-Tommy…T-Tommy that was…I…” Her quiet words expressed what he couldn’t. 

What has he done with his best friend? They’ve crossed a major line. He was worried that when they came out of this, she wouldn’t speak of it, like other insecurities and issues that he had told her about over the years. She never shied away from listening to his thoughts, however intrusive and depressive. But he didn’t want to be this vulnerable with anyone else. Even with other women he dated, there was always a barrier that he put up as far as feelings. They always told him he hid behind his humor and sarcasm. Tommy knew he did, but the one person he was always comfortable with was Velora, was he the same for her? He realized he had never asked, not that she didn’t share her own issues with him, but she didn’t talk about men she dated with him so much. Not that he encouraged it, he never wanted to hear about her dating life, no one would be good enough for his Sweet Pea, was he even good enough for her?

“Valora, rest. I’ll be right back.” A peck from his lips to hers before he slid out of her and got out of the bed. He went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. Looking in the trash can, he scoffed at the loss, ‘should be inside of..’ before he could finish the thought, he cursed himself. Tommy knew he needed to stop, they hadn’t even had a conversation about what they just did, he was thinking about putting his seed inside of her?! “Fuck, I’m insane…” Shaking his head, he grabbed a washcloth out of her bathroom and returned to the bed, Vel had rolled on her side and was attempting to sit at the side of the bed, “Let me clean you up first, take it easy.” he brushed the back of his hand on the copper toned flesh of her hip. He tapped the washcloth on her thigh as she raised her leg and he held it for her, wiping front to back before tossing it on the dresser, knocking over a lotion bottle or two.

“Tommy, why would you throw it?” She asked, chuckling, ‘thank God, she still laughs. That’s good.’ His eyes went from her face to her slit, despite wiping it down it was still glistening, he licked his lips before setting her leg back down and letting her pull on his shoulder to sit up next to him at the bedside. Velora looked forward for a few minutes before speaking again. 

“Did you take all you needed lucky beetle?” She kept turned away from him. “Thanks for cleaning me up Tommy. We should head to…” his hand ran up her spine.

“We’re not doing anything until we talk about this. Vel, I…I want to..” She kissed his cheek and told him words that devastated him.

“This should be between us like always. I won’t ask you for anymore. We’re just- just friends. I hope I was able to help you some. We don’t have to talk about it.” The younger Miller brother remained silent as she wobbled to the bathroom to relieve herself, she closed the door. In his disappointment, he quickly threw his clothes on and dressed, leaving her home and hopping into his truck. A deep wail came from Tommy before he started the engine and drove home, he laid awake and slept through his alarm the following day. Within the week he was off to Ireland to distribute the ashes, he said he would be gone for a week, week and a half tops. He was gone for about three weeks.

Velora’s tears streaked her face in her bathroom. She should have told him that yes, she wanted her cunt to be just his. For him to only be with her and no one else, but she couldn’t. She knew how Tommy gets when he’s sad or frustrated by something he can’t control. That’s when he’d normally find a woman to fuck. She’d used it to her advantage, granted she didn’t think it would happen, it never had before. The woman wore the same nightgown she had before, bland panties, they cuddled like they normally did. He liked to be the big spoon. She knew she shouldn’t have given in, but it was Tommy, her Tommy. She’s known him for more than half her life, tried to date other men but they flat out don’t compare or worse, they actually suck. She couldn’t tell him that it was the first time she had sex fully naked and the lights on, that he asked to see her face and took the time to prep her before entering her. God he used the mouth that she dreamed about on her, just thinking about it now…She should have let him finish. But she was afraid he’d say it first…that it should be another thing between friends. The way she heard him hastily dress and run out of her house told her, she had done to him what men had done to her in the past: dismissed his feelings.

In the time he was gone Sweet Pea tried to go on dates, but she couldn’t stand the touch of another man, even from a side hug she flinched. Whoever said the best way to get over a man is by getting under a new one was wrong. She can’t even be near a new one.

Two days before arriving home…

Joel had spoken to Tommy two days before the latter’s flight home, asking what the hell he did to make V go on so many dates. Tommy was curious how his brother knew the information given that he didn’t think they spoke about subjects like that. Joel said that he heard it from Tess, Joel’s off and on again, whatever she was. That was an entire bag of worms he wasn’t getting into. At least his relationship with Velora wasn’t like that…but it could be. They started out as friends and now those two assholes can’t be in the same room without eye-fucking each other or cursing up a storm. Tommy explained that they had a miscommunication when he last spoke to her and that’s why they were unusually curt with each other on the phone. Joel gave it some thought, sure he was closer to forty-five than forty, but nah, Tommy wouldn’t have right? Not with…

“Tommy you didn’t sleep with V did you? Tell me you didn’t.” Tommy could hear Joel’s head droop. Damn him and using the same disappointing voice he uses when Sarah talks a bit too much trash at soccer and makes one of the girls on the other teams cry. 

“We sleep over each other’s homes fairly often after we hang out. I told you, it’s just..”

“Goddammit Tommy! You can’t do that shit, especially not to her. You know you can’t cut her out of your life like you do other women. I told you this shit would come back to bite you in your ass like a snake in a hole.” His older brother's condemnation of his actions past and present made Tommy suck his teeth.

“This from the guy who keeps holding on to a woman who only uses him for a few good times and disappears for months at a time. Fuck, she’s one who told me we’re not going to talk about it. Still be friends. What the hell else was I supposed to do? I took some extra time, what’s wrong with that?”

“The difference is I know what my relationship with Tess is, you asshole. You slept with a woman who’s been there for you through all your shit. I know you made it about you. It wasn’t about her at all, was it?”

Silence…his brother had him there. At the time, it hadn’t been about her, he even used the fact that she said he could use her however he wanted to do exactly that. Tommy exhaled.

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do now? I’ve already blown everything to shit. She’s doing the same thing I would, getting out there and meeting some guys. Why’d you have to tell me you asshole? I fuckin’ hate it…she’s out with some bastard who won’t even….”

“Eh, I don’t need details of what ya’ll did. And it’s not really going that well. She told Tess that she freaks out when the guys try to touch her, even holding her hand. It’s all for show, guess trying to prove something to herself. Both of ya are a damn pair.” Joel chuckled on the line, the first time during their conversation. Tommy followed suit and a low rumble of laughter. 

“We’re two people who make shitty ass decisions. Just, see if Tess can get her to hold off ‘till I come home. I know her, it’s only making things worse and she’s going to be in head about it. All of it.”

“Yeah, on that same token little brother, get your head out of your ass and talk to the woman. Velora deserves that much at least. You’ll have to get her to listen tho’. I don’t think she’ll be keen on ya right now.”

“Shut up and just pick me up at the airport in a few days. Bring Sarah, I miss my cute niece.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up and then mention my daughter. I shouldn’t bring her just to spite ya. But she wants to ses you too. Loves your stupid ass. I guess you’re a’right at times Tommy. Take care, I gotta go to bed.”

“Lucky you. You can sleep. I’m just awake for no damn reason. You aren’t the worst big brother. See you in a few days.” 

The brothers smiled as they ended their calls. Joel trotted upstairs and kissed Sarah goodnight as she was already in bed. She stirred slightly and a smile formed on her face at her father’s warmth. One of the few times Joel didn’t look like he was completely over everything was whenever he gazed upon his daughter, his only light. 

It was 3:15 am where Tommy was packing up most of clothes, he had brought a backpack and a duffle bag that was significantly lighter now that the two urns weren’t in it, plus he wouldn’t need to check his bags this time so he might get through their airport quicker and get home. He went out into the cold night air with his coat on, hands in his pockets and hair tied back. The puffs of hot hair leaving his nose made him chuckle, he thought of her again, hoping that she hadn’t had too many dates in his absence but some to make her feel better. He didn’t want them to have gone well of course, but if she has the dates that’s fine. Joel wasn’t wrong, he did need to speak to her when he got back, he just had no clue what to say. 

Sorry for fucking you? Sorry for telling you that I don’t want anyone else to see you like this? That I’m especially sorry for not doing this years ago when I first realized that my feelings for you went deeper than that of a friend and maybe sabotaged some of your dates, sent messages from your phone and comforted you when the guys of course stopped communicating with you. Thankfully I only did that a few times before you caught me and told me to just tell you if I thought a guy was trash. I brushed you off because I would tell you they were all trash, but I knew I was garbage too because I was still fucking around, so i couldn’t tell you that. I didn’t have the right. Actually, that might be why you said what you did that night, you knew I didn’t have the right to you. I used you once again and why should I feel like I’m entitled to more? Just because of how you said my name, how you seemed surprised when I wanted to see you and hold you, how good you felt in my arms, how happy I am when I’m in yours…I’ve really screwed the pooch on this one. 

The short walk and the cold air gave Tommy pause as he found himself at the same rocky outcrop that he had spread the ashes over. “Had I asked, you would have come with me. I should have just asked…I have to tell you sorry in person, Sweet Pea.” The stars were hanging in the sky, twinkling at the haunted man. He began slowly back to his cabin and was finally able to sleep, there was no one to hold him when he shed his tears that night.

Velora had tears of a different nature, she was able to finally kiss one of her dates, it was a fair kiss, definitely not like her one with Tommy. She compared him with everyone now that she had a taste of him. Her date suggested that they go back to his place to which she declined, there was no spark, no longing, no anticipation. The man was good looking, could put sentences together, paid for dinner, seemed nice, no real reason to not try him out except he wasn’t Tommy Miller. He didn’t have his dark hair, deep brown eyes, that goofy looking mustache that tickled her tummy, his cinnamon skin or velvet voice. This man was none of those things and it wasn’t his fault. It was hers for agreeing to this date. Vel’s friends were proud of her for getting out there and exploring her options, but she was going through the motions, no matter if it was work, helping out Joel and Sarah or just moping at home, it was all hollow. The man walked her to her car, to which she thanked him for the date and drove home. 

Once home, she hopped in the shower and wash the date away, scrubbing her inner thighs especially as he had tried to finger under the table, but seemed to have difficulty navigating her large thighs, she couldn’t tell if he just hadn’t been with a larger woman or was out of practice in general. Velora got out of the shower, dried off and brushed her teeth, using extra mouthwash, she didn’t want to taste that man at all. 

Sitting on the bed, she looked at herself in the mirror, wrapped in her towel. This was the room she was taken by Tommy or more apt, she offered herself to him. Happily. The circles under her eyes were darker and she chuckled, it’s not the first time she had cried over Tommy Miller, but it was usually because he had done something stupid and not the other way around. It was enough to keep that man in a place that would freeze a witch’s tit an extra week and a half. 

He may have told me that he wanted to be friends with benefits or maybe that he actually had feelings for me, but I didn’t let him talk. These men aren’t Tommy and it’s not their fault. I should have told him years ago but I didn’t want to lose him as a friend. Tommy, Joel and Sarah are family and I just couldn't…I still may lose them anyway. I shouldn’t have told Tess why I was crying and dating. She likely told Joel and…would he know? Is that why Tommy hasn’t come back yet? My head hurts. I feel like shit. Tommy’s the only one that looked at me like that, he touched me from head to toe and told me that I was only his. It was likely just dirty talk but still, it was nice to hear. Pfft, just nice? It was what I’ve always wanted to hear. I just didn’t want to be second anymore…Second to his grief, to his anger, pain and second to whoever the flavor of the month was. I’m tired of being second, I want to be first.

Vel laid across her bed and started at the ceiling, her tears were steady and she gave up trying to wipe them away. She woke up the next morning with a stuffy nose from not covering herself properly before sleeping. 

“Fuck, even my nose is tired of my shit…”

The day Tommy gets home…

Tommy arrived at the airport around seven in the evening, he was almost home. He had called Joel to pick him up, the uncle was excited to see his little niece as his brother said he would bring her. Normally he would call Vel but he couldn’t see her yet. Sarah and Joel greeted him warmly in the drop off area and helped him lay his bags in the truck. The brother chatted about how business had been and Sarah chimed in about soccer and school. The bright young teen did have something important to share.

“So Dad, we’re going to have pizza tonight right? Since Uncle Tommy’s back.”

“Yeah pumpkin I told you we would.” Joel sounded puzzled, unsure why his daughter was confirming plans they had already discussed. Tommy did not like the sound of this, it’s never good if Joel is surprised. He knew his brother stayed prepared. 

“I invited Aunt V to eat pizza with us, you got three pizzas right?” Tommy glared at Joel who kept his eyes on the road. His daughter may be in cahoots with Tess, which surprised him because he didn’t think Sarah liked the woman. He foresaw major issues going forward. 

“I ordered three because I thought it was going to be the four of us. You didn’t mention Vel.” The older Miller brother said slowly, he needed Tommy to know this was not his idea, and frankly he didn’t want the clusterfuck this was going to be, to be in his house.

“Well, Aunt V has been kinda down lately, hasn’t she Uncle Tommy?” Sarah leaned forward in her seat and patted Tommy's shoulder. He couldn’t lie to his only niece, but he also was not going to speak about his love life to a fourteen year old.

“I’ve been away Peanut so I wouldn’t know. Has she now? We should cheer her up.” Tommy bit his lips, and rocked forward, Joel knew those motions were, he was self-soothing. He was so pissed, but couldn’t say anything because he would sooner die then show Sarah anything other than her sweet uncle. Joel knew this was going to be a problem when they were alone. 

“Baby girl, you are so loved.” is all Joel managed to say before cutting on the radio.

Tess was at Joel’s house paying the pizza man and Velora was sitting on the couch. Tess was humming, this woman they all maybe saw three months total out of the year. It was weird, but Joel loved it so Vel figured she would just keep her trap shut. She shouldn’t speak about anyone’s relationship since she had mucked hers up with Tommy. Though a part of her wanted to look nice for him, so she ended up pinning her hair up, exposing her neck and wearing an olive green three-fourth sleeve shirt dress, she also may have left the top button open so she had a bit of cleavage showing but not too much. Sarah was going to be there after all. Vel also made sure to put on her favorite lotion from Bath & Body Works, ‘into the night.’ Maybe she was hoping for something to happen, at the very least, she wanted to be able to talk to him, likely not about the last time they saw each other but at least be civil.

The door opened and Sarah burst in, hugging Vel and snuggling into her, commenting on how good she smelled, Joel carried a bag of Tommy’s and hugged Tess, giving her a kiss on the cheek. That’s when Vel lost her breath, Tommy Miller strode through the doorway and set his backpack on the floor, nodding toward Tess. His eyes met Vel’s and he went to speak as she did , but nothing came from either of them. It looked like Sarah was going to say something but Joel suggested that they eat before the pizza gets cold. Everyone ate and listened to Tommy’s trip and embellished stories, Vel soaked up his laughter and smile, wondering how she would feel if he were to tell her he didn’t want to speak to her again, as he did other women. She was going through the motions again as Joel carted Sarah off to bed before long, she had fallen asleep across Velora’s lap. A place Tommy wanted to be. She looked beautiful, the earth tone dress looked gorgeous on her. It was then that he was surprised, Tess offered Vel a ride home. Apparently, a car ran a stop sign and rear ended her. She hadn’t been injured but her car was in the shop for repairs. Joel and Tess had been giving her rides from home to work. Tommy saw an opportunity. He had left his truck at Joel’s so he could drive home once he made it to their house after the airport. 

“I can drive you home Sweet Pea.” He stated quietly, setting a hand on her shoulder, he stepped in between Tess and where Vel was sitting. Tess was about to interject but Joel shook his head, signaling to let them be. Velora nodded. 

“Sure, thanks Tommy.” With that, she stood and thanked Tess for the offer giving her and Joel hugs before slipping her flip flops on and heading out with Tommy. He opened the truck door for her and she climbed in, he took special care to take a gander at her legs which the moonlight was reflecting off their well moisturized sheen. Tommy then got in the truck and started driving. 

“Tommy…I-I’m sor…”

“Leave it for when we get to your place. We need to sit and talk face to face.” The grave tone he used worried her, was this really happening? Was she going to lose her best friend over the best sex she had?

Once at her home, she opened the door and Tommy locked it after they got in, Velora set to opening a bottle of whiskey and pouring them both glasses with one cube of ice each. She sat next to Tommy on the couch and slowly sipped on her drink, clicking her nails on the glass. Tommy took a large swig and set his on the coffee table, taking hers and placing that on the table as well.

“Velora, I need you to listen to me. Don’t say anything yet.” 

“T-Tommy, just you’re not going to leave right? Just forget it. Just don’t tell me to go away.” His eyes widened, that wasn’t what he expected. He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed to try and calm her, but that only made her jump. “I know I shouldn’t have, honestly you’d never taken me up on it before. I wanted to see how far you were going to go, I didn’t expect…not that i didn’t enjoy it, but if it means we can’t be friends then, I’ll forget about it.” Her speech was pressured and rapid, eyes wild and darting around, when she did focus on Tommy’s face, he saw that she was frightened. 

“Sweet Pea…Just give me a…” Tommy tried to cut her off to explain but she kept going.

“You can’t call me that anymore. You can’t say it like that. Sweet Pea, it makes me wet each time and I can’t, I can’t Tommy Miller! We’re friends, you can’t call me that, not after…” The tears that she had been avoiding since she saw him walk though Joel’s doorway broke through, it was Tommy’s turn to hold her and to console. It was then he realized he wasn’t the only one that had been having feelings over the years. How long had she been in love with him? How long had he been hurting her? How long had they been hurting each other?

“Velora I don’t want to be just your friend. I feel the same way. Honey please…” Tommy whispered as he brought her close, her tears were wetting his shirt, but it was fine by him. He just needed to make her understand that he didn’t want to share her. But he also thought maybe he shouldn’t undress her this time.

After some time, she stopped just embracing her, small hands wrapped around his back, pressing on his shoulder blades. They were quiet except for a few sniffles. Vel leaned back and kissed Tommy’s cheek, her face puffy from her waterworks,

“I’m sorry I didn't let you talk, well this time and especially the last time. I just wanted to avoid talking about it. I couldn’t handle you telling me it didn’t mean anything.”

“Velora. That’s not anything I would ever say to you. And it wasn’t what I was going to say the other night either. I planned to tell you that I don’t speak like that to anyone, even during sex and that I didn’t want you seeing anyone else. I don’t want to see anyone else. Vel…I…” Tommy was cut off by her lips, not forceful but clearly to quiet him again, he cupped her face and leaned into the kiss, letting out a small moan. He did let her go after he licked her bottom lip and she didn’t allow him in. Not that type of kiss he figured.

“Just a little at a time Lucky Beetle. Please a little at a time. You just told me something major, I can’t have you say that I love you right now too. I know you like to get things all out in the open but just let me sit in it a bit.” The explanation made sense to him, in his haste to share his feelings, he forgot that she needs things in pieces, slowly. It’s why he loved talking to her because she could help him see things part by part, but that was clearly different in a relationship aspect. Her hands raised to play with his hair, then ran along his cheeks and poked his mustache. “It’s not that I don’t want to hear it, but I just need time. It won’t be too much. I promise.” He nodded, accepting her proposal.

“Should we get you cleaned up? Your face looks a mess Sweet Pea. Er, not that…” The woman let out a bellowing laugh, it was a sound that he was elated to hear. He hadn’t heard it for weeks and the last time he did, was one of his highest and  lowest points.

“Yeah, I know I look a mess.” She stood up and patted his shoulder for him to follow her to the bedroom. “Tommy, I should tell you, or rather I don't know if you already heard from Joel, I have been on dates since you were away. A few…” A drawer opened and she got out a pair of boxer briefs and a t-shirt for him. Tommy had his own drawer at her house and she did at his, they had for years. “Like four dates,” She turned to face him, but kept her eyes to the ground, still she felt she needed to be honest. “None of them panned out. They weren’t you, I compared them all to you. Even the last one…” Her arms crossed over to stomach as she held her elbows, Tommy could fill in the gaps but he still needed to know.

“How far did you go with him?” He asked flatly. He readied himself for the potential answer that she may have slept with someone, it’s not like he hadn’t done the same thing in the past, though while he was away he didn’t think to. The vet hadn’t expected Velora to take a page from his playbook as far as fucking away feelings.

“Kissing and he tried to…well not that he could find what he was trying to finger. It’s not like mine’s in a different place than a smaller woman’s, you just have to go a little deeper.” Her eyes rolled as she complained and Tommy chuckled, it was entertaining  hearing her mock another man and gave him a sense of pride. 

“Sounds like you had a tough go of it hun.” He placed his hands on his hips, his mustache continued to dance above his upper lip as she continued to chuckle. Velora shook her head and threw the clothes at him, which he caught. “Thanks for telling me though, you're honest to a fault.”

“Shut up Miller. I’m going to shower first.” A small smirk greeted her lips as she grabbed her own nightshirt and panties before heading into the bathroom. Tommy set his clothes on the bed and went back into the living room to finish his whiskey. They felt more normal, like themselves. It was good, but he didn’t want it to stay like this. How else was it supposed to feel?

Velora took a quick shower and brushed her teeth, remembering the glass of whiskey she had and that mint likely wouldn’t taste good with it. She tossed her worn clothes in the hamper and found Tommy sitting on the couch, looking at his empty glass. “Did you want mine too? It doesn’t go well with colgate.” Tommy shook his head and downed her glass as well before heading into the bedroom and stripping, then into the shower. When he came back out, he put his clothes in a small pile in the corner of the room out of the way. The pair sat on the bed next to each other.

“So…”

“So…what do we do now?”

“We should sleep, talk more about things with fresh minds.”

“Did you want to go get breakfast tomorrow?”

“Sure, though I should probably check in with Joel to see if he needs help at the office.”

“It can wait until the next day, he’s actually doing better. Tess convinced him to go to a pain clinic.”

“Really? He left that part out when he was updating me. Old man with a sore back.”

Velora climbed up in the bed and slid under the covers, Tommy watched her and wondered if he could really sleep in the same bed as her without touching her. He should be able to, he has self-control. He followed suit and slipped under the covers as well, turning on his side away from her. If he faced her, he would feel tempted to touch her and after they had a positive conversation the last thing he needed to do was compromise that again.

Turned out it was not up to Tommy Miller whether things were going to happen or not.

Velora became the big spoon to Tommy’s little spoon and that was fine until the sun started to shine through the curtains of her bedroom window. Tommy rolled over on his back and Vel’s leg wrapped around his slim waist. That would be fine, if his hips hadn’t shifted up slightly and a familiar bulge touched her inner thigh. Exhaling, she opened her eyes to see if he was awake, he was not, his breathing still steady and his face in a neutral position. Her finger started to circle his dark nipple, she sank her body weight on top of his abdomen and rested her forehead on his chest, her soft digits inched along both sides of his clavicle. “Fucking delicious menance Tommy.” Vel hummed into his chest, sturdy hands took hold of her hips.

“Am I now? Right back at ya Sweet Pea. I thought I was having a damn good dream. Looks like wakin’ up is even better. Didn’t know you were such a vixen.” A low hum emerged from Tommy’s lips and he sat up, holding her over his hips. “Don’t move, you’re ridin’ me this mornin’ Sweet Pea.” His eyes had a soft glow to them, placing his lips over hers before she could protest, he knew what she’d say, to lay her back down because she was too heavy, but he didn’t want to, He wanted to watch as she bounced on top. Her hands moved from his chest to his shoulders, grasping tight, unsure how much pressure to put on him. Tommy, released her hips to slide his boxers down, unleashing his swollen member from the cloth confines. He then slid her thin wet panties aside to touch her puffy lower lips, a long moan was released from Vel as the mixture of cool air and warm callused fingers entering her, made her squirm. “Sweet Pea, you’re ready for me this morning aren’t ya? Fuck Vel, we wasted too much time. I could have had a ring on your finger and Sarah could have a cousin or two.” Her eyes shot open, did he just…? She pulled back, making her ass press against his thick cock, a gasp escaped from his mouth.

“Tommy, d-did you just…what?”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean Velora. You don’t want me to say three words fine. I know many a way to tell you the same damn thing woman.”

“Well you wanna try this morning?” Her suggestion made him kiss her neck, licking it as his fingers pumped inside of her slowly. “T-Tommy, give me your…”

“My what Sweet Pea? I’ll have to be careful where I call you Sweet Pea. I can’t have you gettin’ this wet at a cookout.” He smiled into her neck, before biting it. One of Vel’s hands grasped the back of his head, tugging it toward her neck.

“Fuck Tommy. Your cock. I want your cock. I’ll make a baby with you. Give it to me.” She yelped as his fingers started to move faster, her nectar dripping down his palm.

“Not yet, I have to show you who can find your pussy with these fingers.” His mouth left her neck and found her lips again, biting her lower lip as she moaned his name. He could watch her like this for the next hour, maybe hours. 

“Don’t be an ass about it Tommy.” Her hips were moving faster, her hands came back to his shoulders as she began moving up and down instead of in a circle.

“Look at you, quick study like always Sweet Pea. Be my angel and soak my fingers.” Tommy commanded, curing his head to nipple at the top of her breast. He felt her squeezing his fingers, then the flood of her slick down his wrist as he slowed down his fingers to match her body’s release and subsequent decrescendo. She sat panting on his lap, her eyes heavy as she met his dark brown orbs again. “Velora, you’re sure I can cum inside you? We still have a shit ton to talk about.” He saw her nod but needed her to speak to him so he didn’t move.

“Tommy, I’ve dreamt of you getting me pregnant and raising a family with you. We’ll work out the details later. It may not even happen this go around. We’ll have plenty of other times to practice. I love you Tommy Miller. I want to make a home with you and a family.” Velora kissed Tommy’s forehead and reached behind her ass, taking his hot member in her hand, teasing his head, “I too am not going to let anyone else have this cock if I have anything to say about it.”

Tommy wondered why he hadn’t seen it, how he could have been so blind, but that moment passed, “Did you have me not tell you I love you so you could say it first?” Vel chuckled as her small hand stroked his cock, “You’re my petty ass vixen angel and I love you. Take off that gown. We don’t fuck clothes in this house.” A beamng chuckle was shared between them as she removed her gown and tossed it on the floor and Tommy assisted her in lifting up to remove her panties, he then shimmied his boxers off and he sat her right back in his lap. “Ready Velora? I’ll ease you in slow.” 

Velora’s hand guided Tommy’s cock to her soaked folds, slipping inside of her easier than she thought, though she didn’t expect her hips to slam flush with his. She let out a loud whimper from the expansion inside of her, the pulsing heat, the grimace disappearing from his face once he was inside of her, she remained still to adjust and was unsure if she should move, it felt as if he was piercing her womb and stomach. It felt like they were finally in the right place and the right time with each other. But she wanted more, she would take from him until he had nothing left to offer her, He hadn’t said a word until she pulled on his shoulders and pressed her feet into the bed to move up, only making it where half of his cock was still inside of her. “Tommy, I don’t think I’m going to be able to do this too long, damn…did you get bigger while in Ireland?”

Tommy still didn’t answer, he was focusing on not shooting his load into her after she sat her full weight on him. Velora was able to take all of him in one stroke, a feat that hadn’t been performed by any other woman he had been with. Now with her moving, he was twitching even more and it felt as if the wrong move or loss of concentration would have him prematurely released. However, when she commented about his size, his eyes open to see the woman that he loved struggling to ride him, it was breathtakingly slow, the perfect pace to make him last longer. “Sweet Pea, I’m gonna be rough for a few, you’re doing the Lord’s work up there. Need to know how it feels to fill you to the brim with my seed Velora.” Bewildered, Vel’s mouth formed an ‘o’ as he began, taking ownership of her hips and forcing his upward into her, she truly started to spring off his member, leaving only his bulbous head inside of her before bringing her back down so his balls smacked her ass.

“Goddamit Tommy! I’m gonna break, Ah…Tom-Tommy..” Her voice cracked as she screamed, one hand dug into his shoulder, her nails drawing blood from his skin as her other hand cemented itself at the base of his skull. Her back was already arching, she was trying to stop her walls from sputtering, to draw this sensation out, him making her and her cunt cry for him. Miller’s grunts increased with his pace, his goal was to stuff her with his cum and he would succeed this morning. His mouth found her round shoulder, her light stretch marks broke though the rest of her brown skin, he started licking them, but felt his teeth start to dig into the soft flesh. “Ah..chew baby, Bite me Tommy..!” She continued to call his name, it was a ballad leading to their mutual end. Velora came first, her nails, raking across his back and head as her cunt attempted to milk his cock of its contents. Tommy was able to get in a few more pumps before he felt it, finally, thick ropes coated her walls as he moaned her name into her shoulder, tasting something metallic on his lips. They remained still, regaining air in their lungs, Tommy fell on his back with Vel on top of him, her breasts landing on either side of his head as her chest fell on his face.. He tilted his chin up and landed a string of kisses in between and on the tops of her breasts. She hummed as she stroked his hair, feeling him soften and start to slip out of her stretched pussy. Thankfully, only halfway.

“Velora, you alright honey? Didn’t break I see. You’re too strong of a woman for that.” His familiar glow returned to his face as she looked down at him and nodded. 

“I’m better than I thought I would be. You might be the death of me yet Tommy. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to just relax again.” Her bubbly sounds had Tommy trace his hands along her love handles and back. 

“If anything, I’ll go first. You started it this morning, remember?” He reminded her as she raised up off his flaccid cock and plopped beside him and he pulled the covers over the both of them. His hands returned to her waist as she nuzzled in the crook of his neck. “We’ll have to check our injuries later, let’s get some sleep. I love you Velora.”

“I love you too Tommy.” The two found sleep in each other's arms for the time being.

The next morning…

A series of loud knocks was at Velora’s front door.

Sarah had been adamant about seeing her uncle Tommy. Joel and Tess tried to assure her that he’s fine, he’s resting up from his long flight, which might be true though Joel doubted it. The fact remind that he did leave his bags at his place from when he drove Velora home last night. Sarah was worried that Tommy may not be happy with Aunt V going out on dates and he could have argued with her and might be moping around his house. It was plausible and Tess found it convenient to need to drive into town for a meeting or two, which she did not have to do before this conversation started.

“You shoulda never told a child about grown folks business.. Tess.”

“Sarah’s a teen, not an idiot. She knows things have been weird with them. Plus she overheard Vel and I talking, I didn’t tell her anything.”

“And now you have to go? After you start some shit?”

“They were meetings I thought were pushed back and now the parties want to meet. It’s annoying and horrible timing but -”

“Seems like good timing for you.”

“Joel, don’t start that shit again. You always do this get mad at me and then-”

“And then you leave and stay gone, not talking to me for weeks or months at a time. Would it kill you to be consistent Tess? Lord knows I am.”

Tess held up her hands, done with the conversation for now. She headed for the door. “Joel, I’ll be back later tonight. Take that time to calm down so we can talk like two adults.”

Joel crossed his arms and looked at the ceiling. He felt small arms wrap around him. “Dad, why don’t you just talk to her instead of picking a fight?” The older Miller brother kissed his daughter’s forehead and smiled. 

“Your old man’s stubborn as a mule baby girl. I gotta be right, even if it kills me.”

“We’re going to take uncle Tommy’s stuff by his house right? I want to show him my new trophy. I fell asleep before I could show him last night. Joel couldn’t say no even though he was fairly certain his brother wouldn’t be home. Gathering Tommy’s junk, he threw it in his truck and drove over to the house. His brother’s truck was absent from the driveway so since he had a key he dropped off the bags inside. Sarah still insisted on seeing him so he drove to Velora’s where now he was knocking on the door. 

When there was no answer, he turned to his daughter who shocked him once again,

“You think they’re going to be friends with benefits or actually date? But they know each other pretty well so maybe not for long. I’m going to be a bridesmaid or the maid of honor.”

“Sarah honey, that’s putting the cart before the horse baby girl.”

“Dad. I’m fourteen. I know these things.”

“Where did my sweet girl go? I don’t want you to know these things.”

Tommy climbed out of bed first, he heard chatter outside the door so he figured he had some time. He relieved himself in the bathroom and grabbed a warm rag for Vel, cleaning between her legs. He couldn’t help but use two fingers to push some of his cum that had leaked out back in, that made her flinch and wake up. “Good morning Sweet Pea, better late than never. Fell asleep before I could clean ya. Someone’s at the door. Goin’ to tell them to kick rocks.” She nodded and rolled over toward the nightstand to check the time, two in the afternoon? It was pretty late.

Tommy popped his jeans on and didn’t worry about boxers. The cold floor felt good under his bare feet as he walked to the door, now on the other side, he heard two voices that he didn’t want to see right this minute. “Welp, it was going to happen sooner or later.” He unlocked the door and swing it open, 

“Afternoon brother, little Peanut.” Joel noted Tommy’s messy hair that was sticking all over the place and that he seemed to have some bruises on his abdomen. Dammit, really? My daughter has to see you like this…

“Hey little brother. We took your crap to your house. You good? Your hair is a little…” Joel studdered, first Tess and now Tommy, why were the adults he knew so damn bothersome and exposing his sweet daughter to things she shouldn’t know until she’s his age, scratch that, he needs to be cold in the ground before Sarah even thinks about, such things.

“Uncle Tommy, is Aunt V alright? If you look like that, what does she look like? Did you put a hurt on her?” The youngest Miller asked with a head tilt. Both men remained silent. Joel was the one now with his arms crossed and rocking between his heels and the balls of his feet. 

“She’s taking a bit of a nap right now, Peanut. I can stop by the house later-” 

“I'm alright, You should maybe go get freshened up though Tommy.” Velora walked up behind Tommy in a loose gray t-shirt and black leggings and tugged on the waist of his jeans to signal he should head back inside. Vel stood in the doorway and gave a stern look to Sarah before bursting into laughter. “You’re a firecracker young lady. You’re going to give both your father and uncle heart attacks. Please let your father hold onto his dream that you’re still his baby girl.”

Sarah stepped forward and gave her aunt a hug, patting her back and niggling into her. She whispered, “Aunt V, you look a lot happier. Both Dad and Uncle Tommy can be kinda dumb so don’t be too mad at him.” Vel chuckled and patted the teen’s head,

“I won’t. I promise. All adults are dumb at times, Peanut. It’s our claim to fame. I love you, you little scamp.” She kissed her forehead and let her go, Joel nodded and he headed back to the truck and left with Sarah. Asking her questions about what she knew about ‘putting a hurt on someone’ and where she had heard it. He didn’t really want to know, he just needed to identify whose knees he needed to break for telling his daughter this information.

Tommy was in the shower, using Velora’s green tea and jasmine body wash. It smelled nice on her, he wasn’t much for smelling like a flower, but he did need to be clean. He was lathering his chest when his Sweet Pea entered the shower naked and put her hand over his, helping him to lather himself. He chuckled at her eagerness to touch him, he was planning on initiating later but he wasn’t opposed to having a bit of slippery fun. He reached beyond the shower curtain and grabbed a second washcloth, the basket they had been neatly folded in fell over, but that could be tidied later. Tommy was quick to wet it and turned around, nearly falling back against the shower wall at Vel’s hair in her hot pink shower cap. Her lips pinched together as she pushed slightly on his chest to signal she was not amused. 

“Sweet Pea, you can’t tell me that’s not funny though. It had to be that neon, bright ass pink?” He cackled in between her soft hits with the soapy washcloth.

“Dammit Tommy, you know I can’t get my hair wet unless I plan to wash it and do that whole process. Stop laughing..ha, ha.” The woman started giggling along with him, the pair of them laughing until they wheezed. 

Tommy took his washcloth and ran it over Velora’s shoulders and took special care under her arms. He rung the washcloth out over her breasts and added more of the body wash to make the lather thicker before circling around each breast, carefully lifting them from their lowered position. Velora continued to drag her washcloth across his chest, then around to his back until she lowered it just before reaching his butt. She then brought it back to the front and wiped up and down on his abdomen eliciting a few more chuckles from the mustached man. Tommy started in the middle of her stomach and branched out with larger strokes before starting on her back. He then paused,

“So how do you want to take care of below the waist?” 

“I think we should each do our own, I don’t trust you not to start fingering me and I don’t want soap in my pussy.” 

“You know me so well Sweet Pea.” He answered with a smirk and made sure to clean his cock and balls well and ended with his ass as Vel did the same. They rinsed off and Vel stepped out of the shower first to set a few towels on the floor to soak up the water she was dripping and to grab two towels, one for each of them. After drying off, Vel put on the same t-shirt and black capris she had on before, they had been fresh out of the drawer so she didn’t mind putting the back on. Tommy slipped on a pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt from his drawer in Velora’s bedroom. Tommy headed to the kitchen to start some coffee and make some brunch. He found eggs, onions, peppers, cheese and toasted some bread with some apple butter. Velora was finishing up the bathroom when she smelled his cooking, her mother told her not to trust a man who can cook when she was younger, but Vel found it to be one of the many sexy qualities Tommy had, among others that she could put her hands on now.

She walked out to her small kitchen and got some plates and glasses down to get the table. It could fit four people comfortably though it was on the smaller side, with just the two of them, it was just the right size. Tommy dished up the food, he made three pieces of toast for each of them, after he set the frying pan in the sink and ran some water in it, they sat down to eat, in silence for the first few bites. 

“So…should we talk about things or…?”

“I mean we can. I guess we should start with whose house we’re gonna live in. Yours is on the smaller side Vel. makes sense since it’s just you living here, but…”

“No I mean, about before. We moved things pretty fast and you never told me about how your trip went with, well what you were going to do, though we weren’t really speaking at the time.” Velora moved a piece of her omelet around on her plate as she bit into her toast.

Sitting back in his chair, Tommy crossed his arms and sighed, “Do we really need to talk about it? I went, took care of my guys’ ashes and came back. Yeah I was gone longer, but I needed time to think. I couldn’t do that…”

“While you were here. While you may have to face me, is that it?” She asked, looking up from her plate. He rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“What about you? While I was gone, you’re out here setting up dates left and right. I know that was your one friend who doesn't think I’m shit who told you to do that and you did it! I had to hear it from Joel of all people. That was weird as shit.” he shook his head, recalling the conversation, it had been unnerving. 

Velora took a deep breath, “I told you about it when you came back and we finally talked before and we…I was honest about it. I didn’t need to hide, I came to fucking Joel’s house with all that damn pizza and listening to tess talking about meetings and travel! I didn’t want to go, seeing you…it, I was happy to know that you were okay, but I felt guilty and hurt Tommy.” Her eyes never parted from his, the intensity of them caused him to look away, but the veteran was drawn right back.

“I know. I was in shock when Sarah mentioned on the drive home that you were going to be there. I honestly didn’t think you would want to see me, given how I reacted when you said what you said after we made love. You can say it, you know Velora. We’ve made love twice now.” Tommy grinned, trying to lighten things up a bit, but to no avail.

“I know I told you that I needed time.” Velora paused to try and figure out her phrasing. Tommy titled his head, trying to anticipate what she may say, he hoped it wasn’t that they should see how things go. He was serious about moving their relationship forward. “I’d rather we talked about things and made some future plans. We skipped ahead on the babymaking front. I didn’t think I’d…well I knew I wanted to but…” Her cheeks were becoming hot once again, having a child with her best friend and crush Tommy Miller had been a fantasy. Now she may have actually done it without dating, marriage, deciding where they’re going to live, none of that. It made her giddy that he wanted to see her pregnant and have a child with her, but what would come with it? Was she prepared for that?

“Velora, well I won’t say relax because we’re needing to make some major decisions.” Tommy rose from his chair and stood behind Vel, placing one hand on each shoulder and kissed her temple. She took a few sips of water for her throat that was painfully dry now.  “One step at a time honey. It’s alright we don’t know right now. We just started this together. Plus we gotta move you into my house, this kitchen’s too damn small and I got room in my master bath to expand the shower.” Vel coughed on the water, setting an elbow on the table before cradling her forehead in it. 

“Lord above you really are trying to kill me Miller.” Their expressions of joy echoed through the small kitchen as they continued their meal and bikered about whose house should be sold, which mattress should be in the master bedroom and who has the better office.

Six months later…

Velora plops another rose near the mailbox. She already had brought three over from the back of Tommy’s truck. She had borrowed it to drive to the florist to pick up her order that she had placed last week. Set on adding more color to the front yard, she had added yellow tulips near the large front window that was off of the living room. Red was what she wanted on the corner around the mailbox. She took to gardening well, finding it was calming in addition to decorating her new home. She and Tommy had closed on her small home last month and were able to make a sizable profit from it. Due to the time constraints though, she sold much of her furniture except what was left to stage the house. Tommy, Joel and Sarah had helped moved her items into Tommy’s larger house. Velora had fussed about it, but she knew it was the right choice, moving into his house. It was her first house though, she remembered when Tommy had helped her move in.

Standing up from her leaning over position, she felt light-headed and had to lean on the mailbox, thankfully it was sturdy and she was quickly able to regain her balance. Her head swam for a minute but then calmed. It was happening more frequently and it worried her. Tommy had asked her to cut back on her hours at work, go to part time at the hospital. She was stubborn and refused, stating that it happened from time to time, she was fine, it would pass. It’s been two months of symptoms off and on again. What really worried her was her tender breasts and back pain. They didn’t seem connected and both had been happening since she hit puberty decades ago. She didn’t mention it to Tommy though, didn't want to worry him. Heading back inside the house, she called and made a doctor’s appointment, relenting that she may need to have things checked out, though whenever she had scans before they were always benign and she was advised to lose weight. “They’ll just tell me the same damn thing.”

Tommy was thriving, sure he had way too many pillows on his couch now, but he was able to convince Sweet Pea to keep some on the bed and in the guest bedrooms, at least break them up some. The little touches as far as plants, new colors of green, reds and yellows, nothing overbearing but more accents to his neutral home. In the pillows, but also in the towels, rugs, blankets for when they would watch movies on said couch and even a few shirts in his closet. He only wore those colors for her, no one else though. Tommy brought up the topic of marriage first saying that before a baby came, he wanted to have a ring on her finger and a certificate in his hand. Velora shook her head at him as usual and asked him how he planned to do that. She was washing dishes, wearing just one of her oversized t-shirts and panties. 

“Well, like this Sweet Pea. You thought you were gonna be stuck with me before. Now we’re going to make it official.”

“Miller, we moved in together three months ago, don’t you think it’s a little soon to-” His arms wrapped around her waist as he kissed her cheek.

“No it’s not. I told you we’d do one step at a time. This is the next step. We can make it big or small. Besides, I got this ring on sale.” He chuckled in her ear and reached in his back pocket, pulling out a small box. Vel dried her hands and turned around.

“Tommy I’m not taking some mood ring you got on…that’s a box. An actual box.”

“Yes. Wait, you thought I was gonna fake you out with a mood ring? What kind of man do you take me for?” Tommy exaggerated his fake outrage, crossing his hand over his chest and stumbling back. “You wound me…Vel how could you?” 

Velora shook head again, her face in her hands, not believing what she was seeing. The punk did get her a ring. She hadn’t asked for one, she honestly thought it would be next year before she got one, they hadn’t even made wedding plans yet. “You keep surprising me every day Tommy. I find you as annoying as much as I adore you.”

“I’ll take that as a yes honey. Put this on so I can see it on the pretty hand of yours.” He removed the gold ring from the box and slid it on her finger. He held her hand as he moved it around, it appeared to be a little loose. “I was sure I got the size right. Vel, did you lose some weight?” His eyes squinted at her hand, they didn’t look much different so he released her hand and grabbed her hips making her gasp.

“Tommy! I haven’t lost any weight. We just have to get it re-sized. I’m still going to wear it anyway until we do. It’s beautiful.” She admired it, a 6 mm band with 1 carat diamond in an oval setting. “Wait, how much was this?”

Tommy ignored the question, his hands were roaming her hips and love handles, she felt a little less, though she didn’t look it. He would know, the man felt her up daily, several times a day. “Sweet Pea, when’s your appointment? I’m going to come with you.” Vel kissed his cheek before placing her left hand on it.

“You don’t need to, I’m fine. They’re just going to tell me I need to rest or drink more water or lose weight like they always do. It’s why I usually just go for my physical yearly and not much else.” She explained. Tommy knew not to press her too hard on it, they were both stubborn so he would just worry instead. A distraction was in order they had gotten a new dining room table, Vel had called his old table “musty” for the mismatched driftwood it had been made of. The dark cherrywood suited the otherwise light room perfectly, drawing your attention to it. 

Tommy used his hands on his fiancé’s hips to guide her back toward the table, he reached and lifted her ass onto the table. “What’s gotten into you now? Don’t be picking me up like that. You’ll end up with a back like your brother.” He tugged on her panties pulling them down to her knees and then off. Squating, he used his forearms to part her thighs before nibbling her sensitive skin. 

“If I get a bad back from lifting you Sweet Pea, I’m gonna make sure it’s well earned. Let me taste my fiance. I wonder if now you’ll be more savory or honeyed.” He felt her put her legs over his shoulders and place her calves against his back, by now, she was aware of the position he wanted her in for his meals.

“How does that make any sense? Shit…don’t just use one love. I always need more.” Her hips bucked at the insertion of his finger, he was teasing her, leaning toward her mound and inhaling deeply, filling his lungs with her scent, intoxicating as he found it.

“My greedy girl. I aim to please ya always.” A second digit followed, pumping into her down to the knuckle, usually he worked his fingers in slower but her juices were dribbling onto the wood table, making it glisten. “May have to use your nectar to polish the table later, Sweet Pea.” Tommy ran his other hand up her shirt, pulling it to reach her cushy belly. He placed a kiss on it before placing his hand on the small of her back and scooting her hips forward to start to curl his fingers inside of her, a small spongy depression he discovered inside her months ago that had her babble in between obscenities. Peering upward, his head was hung forward toward her chest, hands firmly on the table, arms taunt, forcing her pelvis to meet his hand. “Almost there Vel, a little more…” His thumb plucked the small bundle of red flesh hidden at the top of her slit. A feral growl left his love as his fingers were taken from her, thighs pulled his upper body forward. 

“Tommy…Either put your fingers back in or use your mouth. You will not leave me like this on our dining room table. Didn’t you just say you ‘aim to please’?” His snickers echoes against her drenched mound, his breath, rolling over her sweltering skin.

“I do, but you know I like my pleasantries. I’m a Southern gentleman.” Velora couldn’t see his face, but she could picture his lips curving upward, forever teasing her. She guessed she knew what it was about, she was able to keep her balance with one hand as the other twirled in his soft onyx waves.

“A gentleman now huh? Who leaves a lady wanting? Not sure I want a gentleman then. I want the same man who told me he was starving and I had to make sure he had a warm meal.” Her voice raspy from her screams, cracking when she spoke. Tommy flicked his tongue on her clit, then blew on it.

“Not my exact words, but I’d hate to make such a beautiful woman wait.” He felt Vel release his hair as he plunged into her moist cunt, lapping at entrance, grunting with the roll of her hips toward his face. His mustache tickled her clit each time he pulled back to take a small gasp of air. Her body went rigid as her peak was reached and Tommy shot up to wrap his arms around her waist easing her down on the table. “Easy Sweet Pea, easy Velora…” He kissed her chin, her hands reached for his face and licked his lips, 

“I think I’m more savory than Sweet love. May need to change my nickname.” The veteran’s head dropped into her chest, matching her laughter. He now knew how sturdy the new table was. It could stay.

One week later…

Joel pulled up to the florist’s shop. He needed to send flowers for the condolences of one of their frequent customers who would use them for construction contracts. The man’s mother had died and the elder Miller brother in his effort to be more sociable, was following more social cues. He also was doing what his daughter had suggested and ‘ghosting’ Tess. He didn’t feel great about it, but Sarah had advised to ignore her calls and texts since they couldn’t agree to which direction their relationship should go. Joel wanted a partner, someone who he would be comfortable having in his life with his daughter. Tess got along with Sarah just fine, because they didn’t spend much time together outside of a few weeks or a month. His sometimes partner was just fine with that arrangement, thus their disagreement. The man was currently distracted though so he wouldn’t be answering any calls, he was placing his order with the same florist who V had been getting her flowers from. On the glowing recommendation, he ventured into the shop and was met with a woman who had a silver streak in her otherwise strawberry blonde hair. She gave him a warm smile, wiped her hands off on her apron before reaching out for a handshake, it was firm and she had callaouses as well from the different plants she had worked with, a small pink mark was on her neck. Joel wondered what it was from, he did eventually place his order, but they ended up comparing handshakes, whose accent was stronger, discussing children, trucks and work boots. A warmth that Joel hadn’t felt since his wife passed spread in his chest, her name Andy, she had told him like the sheriff from ‘The Andy Griffith Show.” The two laughed over the reference and that their children had no idea who the man was. 

Velora sat next to Tommy on the plane. He had asked her to set aside three particular weeks in September. Vel agreed as long as he didn’t have a flash mob or a minister to marry them at an airport. He defended himself by telling her she may be the one to take them to a drive through wedding chapel if she can find one, just to save some time and money. Her head found Tommy’s shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. She felt safe and terrified. She hadn’t had a chance to speak with him before leaving the country, well maybe she did, but she got cold feet, she was also nervous. It was happy news, but more than anything, she didn’t want to stop working. She knew Tommy would insist on her not working or at the very least, going on light duty, a compromise. Not a bad one if she was being honest. The flight was nearly thirteen hours, Tommy had done this by himself? There were points when they did move around and chat about what their actual wedding plans would be. Something small at the courthouse with immediate family and a reception at their house in the backyard, unsure of where they were going for their honeymoon, it was decided they could figure that one out later. Holding Tommy’s hand as the plane finally started its descent, Velora resolved to tell him one way or another. 

The emerald grass crunched under their boots as they walked gingerly in the forest behind the cabin they were staying in. It was cozy and Tommy smiled to himself that Vel was indeed holding onto his arm for any warmth she could gather. He surprised her with the destination of Ireland, but he wanted to show her it’s beauty that he had seen on a much more somber trip. His fiance had been the first person he thought to bring here besides his brother and niece. They were on their way back from the same rocky outcrop that he spread the ashes over some months ago. Velora held his hand as he teared at the memory, glad that she was here with him this time and for every journey the pair would take after. Velora stopped and Tommy did as well, wondering why she had stopped walking.

“We’re almost there Sweet Pea. We can warm up and drink hot chocolate. Might even go out and try some brennivin. One glass though, it will knock you on your ass, almost got me.” He was trying to lighten the mood after this visit to the site. Vel shook her head and it made him confused, she looked nervous.

“I-I have something to tell you. Honestly, I had to think about it and wrap my head around it, because normally it's never anything.” A strong gust blew through the trees whipping the leaves loudly to where the puzzled man saw her mouth move but didn’t hear. He made out, ‘we’re…’ What? All of her body language changed, like she was about to burst, whatever it was it was happy, so was it what he thought?

“Say again Vel, I can’t hear you.” He pointed to his ears but she lunged toward him and cupped his face, giving his lips a peck. The wind had started to calm but was tossing her ponytail in every direction. “Tell me what earned me that.” He grinned.

“We’re pregnant! You’re going to be a father Tommy!” Snot was starting to run down her nose and her eyes were squinted due to the air currents, a mess, but to Tommy it was the face of the mother of his child. The only face he needed to see until the baby was born. His outcry of joy was matched by the enthusiasm in which he picked up Velora and spun her around. She screamed for him to put her down, her laughter spurring him on, eventually he did and tugged her along to their cabin where they lit the fireplace. 

Tommy insisted that they shower and she spread out on the bed so he can put his head to her belly. She assured her fiance that it was too early for that but no was not an option. As her nails lightly scratched his scalp, Tommy rubbed his head on his other half’s stomach, knowing that a new life was growing inside of her.

“Thank you Velora. You’ve given me so much over the years. Now you’re giving me a little Miller and a future too. I love you Sweet Pea.” Closing his eyes, he listened to Velora breathe, her hand was still in his hair but she had fallen asleep. With a light huff, his fingers ran up her arm and traced her jaw, ending on her soft lips. “I’ll tell you again when you wake up, Velora. Rest up honey, we’ve a long road ahead together.”

Moots who might like it: @maggiemayhemnj @laurfilijames @rhoorl @fhatbhabie @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @trulybetty @goodwithcheese @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @yorksgirl @guelyury @perotovar @saturn-rings-writes @megamindsecretlair @morallyinept @legendary-pink-dot @undercoverpena @beabliss @grogusmum @sp00kymulderr @magpiepillsjunior @for-a-longlongtime @pamasaur @linzels-blog @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

[dragonfly0808]

Stella: The Thesis

If you’ve read my Fate rant, you know I’ve got a lot of feelings about Stella, so here we go.

Again SPOILERS IF YOU’RE NOT UP TO DATE WITH THE REWRITE, like at least up til Chapter 38 of Season 3

Also, TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion of Eating Disorders

First Things First

The first words in my character sheet to summarize her character in the OG are: Spectacular Diva who doesn’t always think before talking.

I think we can all agree that a big point Stella’s character was to combat the mean blonde girl stereotype without making her a tomboy. Letting her love sparkle and be dramatic without being mean. The only times that Stella is mean are when her brain-to-mouth filter fail and she always makes up for it.

I always loved Stella’s character, especially post season 3, and I was very specific about what I wanted to do with her character. Making her a little more mature without taking away any of her Stella charm.

Stella is a perfect character for a ‘fake it till you make it’ mentality and to hide any insecurity behind a kind of ‘armor’. Fashion is Stella’s armor if that makes sense, and she is probably the most insecure in the group, even if she’s been working on it since even before the rewrite begins.

My very first major change is to change the reason she took a sabbatical year. Instead of blowing up a lab carelessly and her dad having to make a ‘generous donation’ to get her back into Alfea, Stella choses to take a year off to work on her mental health and her ED.

So, I chose for her to suffer from Anorexia as a response to 1) a need for validation from her mom, who has a bad habit of commenting on her body, 2) incredible stress from her parents fighting all the time and 3) the pressure of being a future queen affecting her a lot.

We only really see Stella post-healing from her ED, but we still get to see her not taking care of herself as much as she should when very stressed or very emotional, and the group (especially Sky, Brandon, Tecna and Bloom) tend to keep an eye on her to make sure she’s eating properly.

Stella’s at her core, a very caring person. Someone once commented that, while Bloom will be the one to lead the girls in battle, once it’s all over, Stella is the one they look to and the one to take care of all the girls and I feel like that’s a perfect summary of who Stella is as a friend.

Stella feels a lot of responsability towards the girls, both because she’s the oldest and because she just loves them with all her heart and would do anything for them.

We often see her trying to take care of her own emotions on her own or even shoving her feelings down in order to comfort the other girls. (Not talking to Brandon because she doesn’t want him to worry about her, getting her emotions/powers under control to comfort Aisha, etc)

Even though she’s an only child, Stella is very much an older sister. She jokes and teases and is just a little annoying because its fun to her, but the second things get serious, she’s the one they look to for comfort or for a safe place. The first time we see this is in Season 1 when Flora has a breakdown, the other girls freeze because they’ve never seen Flora like this and they’re not sure what to do, Stella instantly takes over, gets her into comfy pijamas, tells the teachers they’ll take the day off and makes the decision to call in someone else to give Flora what she needs at the moment. Like Musa says, ‘Flora is so mature sometimes I forget Stella’s the oldest.’

Another way we see that her caring is her main trait is her dedication to be a good future queen.

Stella is incredibly close with her personal guards Sua and Lola, sees them as mother figures and she knows the names of almost the entire castle personal. She takes as many courses as she can and is not ashamed to ask for extra classes with subjects like Economy so that when her time comes, she can be the queen that Solaria deserves.

This comes into play with her Enchantix, she dies protecting her dad, protecting Chimera even though at the moment Chimera is trying to steal her place, protecting two guards.

We truly see who Stella is with the entire Chimera situation in s3, she knows what it’s like to be 15 and insecure and kinda hate yourself. And she knows what it’s like to feel like she’s alone. So she gives Chimera what her friends once gave to her. Hope, warmth and a chance to remake herself.

Stella takes Chimera in as her little sister even after everything. Because she understands and she cannot not care about her.

Stella’s main trait, that never changes is that she is caring and she will do anything for the people she loves.

Thoughts Behind Main Relationships

Bloom: Bloom is Stella’s person. Like I’ve mentioned, they have a very Taylor Swift, invisible string kind of friendship. They were always meant to be friends.

To Stella, Bloom is part of her very soul, her very being. If Stella is the sun then Bloom is the moon, the two are connected in a way that neither can quite describe.

To Stella, Bloom is safety, she can be vulnerable and weak and just show herself with Bloom and she knows that if she breaks, Bloom will be there to help pull her back together or to be strong for the both of them.

That’s something that Stella has never truly allowed herself to feel before, even with her closest friends. Bloom is the one that she trusts to put her back together if she ever breaks. Because she’d do the same for her.

Brandon: Brandon and Stella have known each other for two years before season 1 and from the moment they met they were drawn to each other.

Brandon somehow saw right through Stella’s facade of confidence that she wore back in the day, and he was intrigued by who she really was. She was a bit intimidated by this but was also intrigued.

It took them a long time to admit their feelings but they have a relationship founded in friendship, softness and trust. They’ve seen each other at rock bottom, they know that they’ll stay no matter what. They feel safe with each other.

Brandon thinks Stella is beautiful of course, but that is not why he fell in love with her, it was pretty much everything else. And Stella didn’t fall for him for his looks either, she fell for the boy who’s a family man and takes care of his four younger sisters and who never hesitated to help Sky and who is just a protector at his core and who always believed in her.

Their love is, ‘I’ve seen you at your worst, I’ve seen what you hide from the world, I know exactly who you are and I am so in love with every aspect and shade of you that I don’t know how I could ever not love you. I know that you’re insecure deep down and I understand that and there is such comfort in how knowing we are of each other that somehow, after a life-time of being terrified to be vulnerable, being weak with you is easier than it should be and all fear goes away when you hold me.’

Sky: Sky and Stella have known each other since birth. They’ve been best friends since they were less than two years old and have always had each other’s back.

One of the major changes I made to season 1 was having Stella know about the switcharoo between Sky and Brandon, mostly because, since she’s known Sky her whole life, they couldn’t really keep it a secret from her.

This formed a dynamic for the trio and made them the closest subunit in season 1 since they’ve known each other the longest.

Stella and Sky are two kids who bonded as kids but continued to deepen their bond as they both realized the weight on their shoulders due to being the future rulers of their respective planets.

These two are definetely siblings. They both had somewhat strict mothers so when together, they love to get to just be goofy teenagers. Their friendship is one of ‘We both have so much to do and a lot of weight on our shoulders but when we’re together we can let go and try to trip each other into a fountain for the fun of it and stick out our tongues just because we can and I know you’d never get mad at me over something like that. But you know that if you even need anything I will be right here and nothing will stop me from helping you.’

Who is Stella in this Rewrite?

Stella is someone who is learning to love herself and come into her own. To accept her insecurities and learn from them.

She is the kind of person who is goofy and has so much personality that you can’t help but just notice when they walk into the room. She is always making people laugh, but the second that things go dire, she is the first to jump to protect her friends. Once the battle is over, she’ll be the first to comfort the others.

Stella is a complex young woman. Who has immense passion and love and care within her and who uses all of that in every single relationship that she has. She pours her love into her studies to be a good queen someday.

She is a woman who has gone through hating herself to starting to truly realize that she is allowed to be proud of herself and even admire who she has become in the face of adversity.

Stella is someone who’s caring at her very core and who shows that care in everything that she does.

Stella is a girl filled to the brim with personality and care and strength. And it shows in everything that she does.

———————

Masterlist

Stella Moodboard

Stella’s Instagram

Bloom and Stella Moodboard

Stella and Brandon Moodboard

Stella and Sky Moodboard

Please comment on this one cause I had a bit of a tough time wording what I wanted to say this time around (that’s why this one took so long) so I’d love to know your thoughts!

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

for anyone who follows me and/or reading gust & flame currently, I'm sorry for being MIA and not updating in awhile. I unintentionally took a little sabbatical without even realizing it. My summer depression gets really bad in August. (I'm totally fine. I'm in therapy. It's just hard for me to be motivated and enjoy my hobbies.) On top of that, my job is kind of a shit show right now and requiring a lot of mental gymnastics. And I've been planning a bachelorette weekend for someone (kill me). So my brain and energy is always fried at the end of the day, and I end up reading instead of writing – or, quite frankly, watching tiktoks for hours at a time. 😅

Just wanted to give anyone who is interested an update. I promise I'm going to continue writing for gust & flame. I fully intend to see it through.

Also, thank you to everyone who has sent me encouraging messages. You guys are so sweet. 🥹❤️

[lydia-too-late]

Get To Know Me(me)

Tagged by @silkenred a little while back, but I didn't take my laptop on vacation!

Last Song :: "Daughter" by Beyonce... which is like, kinda a solid Lasombra vibe?

Favorite Color(s) :: I overthink 'favorites" questions to the extent that you'd think I was signing a binding contract. Favorite color for what? Are we talking color theory? Wall/paint colors? To wear?? What's the mood??? I MUST KNOW THE CONTEXT.

I was wearing a sage green shirt today and someone said it was a great color on me, so let's go with that.

Currently Watching :: I recently made a bunch of people watch all four episodes of Chimp Crazy and I have no regrets. But my current "respectable" show is Better Call Saul. On season 5, and I'm starting to fear that my darling Nacho may not make it out of this unscathed. I mean, he's already been shot at least twice, but... more scathed than that.

Last Movie :: The last (?) Jurassic Park, I think? The one with giant, fiery locusts and Jeff Goldblum playing a character I always wanna call Malcolm Gladwell, because names are hard. I dunno, maybe the Outliers guy would be into dinosaurs, but one would think he'd notice some type of pattern with these parks...

Sweet/Spicy/Savory :: I'm a fan of all of them, but if I had to pick one, I'd say sweet. In small quantities, 'cause the returns are likely to diminish. Specifically, I would like a piece of flourless chocolate cake with like... a mango or raspberry sorbet.

Relationship Status :: Married. Kids. Golden retriever. Suburban ennui and red state repression. The whole bewildering deal.

Current Obsessions :: A couple years ago, a very talented friend of mine asked if I'd ever heard of VtM. "I remember it being a thing in the '90s," I said. Thus began a pretty serious obsession with learning the interpreting the VtM lore, and then collaboratively writing the ongoing story Self Control with @silkenred, which focuses on Tula, a Lasombra, and Silk, a Sabbat shovelhead, both adrift and feral and darkly delightful.

Otherwise, I'm obsessed with design theory and finishing my UX portfolio (SO CLOSE), figuring out how to best manage my ADHD brain, learning digital painting/drawing, working out, and establishing healthy boundaries with my parents. Poetry. Writing. Strange and/or "unlikable" characters. Most things Southern Gothic.

Last Thing I Googled :: Uuuuhhh, honestly? Season 5 of Better Call Saul because I have a bad memory, and I wanted to make sure I was answering the question above accurately. Before that, reviews of the book All Fours, which I just finished. And, at some point today, just "couches."

Tagging anyone who wants to play along. That means you! Unless you don't want to.

[cha-melodius]

hi sara! wondering if you'd care to share your biggest lesson from 2023 and your top 5 aspirations for 2024?

HELLO you sent this at the end of December and I never answered it because things were honestly very shit at that point in time for me, plus this requires thought and I had no brain. But I'm answering now!

Biggest lesson: That I need to find a way to balance my teaching and my students' expectations and my own happiness so that I don't end up despising my job in another five years.

Top 5 aspirations: 1) use my sabbatical to re-focus and hopefully find my love of research again after getting super burned out and jaded in my job; 2) stop fucking comparing myself to other writers/creators in fandom; 3) foster friendships both online and offline; 4) don't let the haters get me down (in both my professional and fandom lives); 5) continue to foster a good work-life balance and don't let others' bad habits make me feel guilty about taking time for myself.

WHEW this was hard. I hope you have a good year, anon!

[dapperbasil]

Its high time I made one of these

Hi hello I’m Basil

27 yo, Demigender Butch Lesbian, She/They/He/Whatever I’m not picky

I have blorbo brain rot and it's not going away any time soon, my apologies. I have a few interests that sometimes pop up but mostly its World of Darkness stuff. 

I write a lot but hardly ever post, it’s mostly the nerves that keep me from it. Most of what’s actually out there is posted to Ao3 under DapperVentrue.  I do also post writing here occasionally, and my writing tag is dapper drabbles.

Under the cut I’ve got my OCs and their corresponding tags. Mostly they're WoD but there's also some other tabletops hiding in there too.

Tammy King | Ventrue Fledgling/Neonate | Portland by Night

A Reno kindred with a New York accent sent up to Oregon for the final task in her Agoge before she’s admitted into clan Ventrue properly. Sheltered from the worst parts of kindred society for 11 years, Tammy’s finding out the hard way that there was a lot to learn before her test was over, and they were lessons her sire Zacharias intended her to learn first hand. Unfortunately for everyone involved, she’s a slow learner. Even more unfortunately for him, she fell in love somewhere along the way. Their ship tag is Ventrue’s Gambit, and I will often tag things for Zacharias as well.

Sometimes I will post things related to the post-campaign/modern timeline for the Portland by Night game, which will be tagged as Reno's Modern Nights.

Thorne | Toreador Lasombra Neonate | Hungry in Hungary

My VtM Dark Ages Lasombra who was embraced into the wrong clan by a bitter rival. Returning to their rightful sire after years of pain at the hands of the Toreador who embraced them, Thorne now masquerades as a member of clan Lasombra. Devoted to and in love with their adoptive sire, Thorne acts as their sword and shield as one half of the Abyssal Rose ship.

I also run a Sabbat chronicle, tagged here as Toronto by Night. I don’t share spoilers here as my players all have accounts. I’m always excited to talk about my chronicle though, and will sometimes tag things for certain NPCs. 

Asahina Sakurako | Crane Samurai | Tanaka's Treacherous Travels

My L5R character, who's campaign is monthly so I don't have too much for her yet. She's a sickly blacksmith who goes against everything her family stands for to the point where she's been betrothed to a Scorpion clan Lord to get her out of their hair. She's currently traveling as part of the retinue of a daughter of the Emperor to track down twelve cursed swords and seal them away. Ever seen katanagatari? Her ship tag with her betrothed is Bright Blossoms.

As of recent my group has begun playing Exalted 3rd edition, and I'll probably post periodically about it. I play Daiana Valentus, a mercenary and newly sparked Solar with a bad attitude and a giant axe.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

“They don’t tell me shit. Everyone knows this is a cushy post. Keep the genius on board and try to keep his tinkering budget below world-ending for a couple of years. Do that, get one of the prestige posts overseas. Boom, career made. Jones hasn’t done anything but cooperate since I got here. What else did I need to know?”

I love this little glimpse into Alfred's relationship with the government - the idea that they give him a "tinkering budget" that needs to be carefully managed is fun, but even more intriguing is the implication that it's a stepping stone to higher posts because there are times Jones doesn't cooperate.

“Matthew Williams was old European money? You’re not serious. He did grass with homeless guys in Stanley Park and drove a 78 Chevy. Everyone knows Alfred has got the brains and business sense.”

Okay, it's a little bit Matt's fault for smoking pot in the park, but I feel bad that even to humans viewing them as humans Alfred's the exceptional one. That's heartbreaking.

On the flip side, this whole thing was deeply amusing - a bored bureaucrat finding out that the impulsive genius and his stoner brother are the heirs to Crusades-era wealth is a funny premise, and I liked the added angle of "we know what's really going on, but how does it get explained to humans?" (Also, kudos to Brighid for being "unconfirmed" - Arthur doesn't deserve to get credited with being related to her.)

“Last time I took a northwoods sabbatical.”

“You mean the last time you had a mental breakdown and spent three months in the woods eating possum liver?"

“I prefer racoons thank you, and…” Matthew rubbed the back of his neck, preparing for the backlash. “Well, that was the second to last time.”

“What?” His father’s face was instantly furious and even more worrying, his father was concerned. “Matthew!”

Aaaaand emotion. "Northwoods sabbatical" is hilarious, but I can't decide what's more heartbreaking - Matt not telling his father about every time, or Arthur finding out that his son's been having these breakdowns more often than he thought. At least Matt knew Arthur would be upset? Like, it's horrible that he feels like he has to manage other people's feelings like that, but at least it's "it'll worry him" instead of "he won't care"?

His father’s brain was working, his worry between Matthew standing before him and his firstborn clearly in conflict. Not on his face, never on his face, but Matthew knew what the slight flex of one hand meant. Alfred won. He always won.

Seriously, you're so fucking good at balancing feeling bad for Arthur with hating him for being a shit father (and obviously feeling bad for Matt.) Like, he's worried about both of his kids. Matt's saying concerning things and that does bother him! And I feel bad for him because I'm sure he feels awful about that, and of course he's worried sick about Alfred.

But it's largely his fault that Matt acts like that, and it's precisely because Alfred always wins. He loves them so much, and I feel bad for him because of how hard this must be, but he's a shit, favorites-playing father and his pain is partially self-inflicted and deserved. And you balance that perfectly every time.

And the way you write it... "Alfred won. He always won." The resignation is absolutely heartbreaking, and Matt being able to read Arthur so well that he knows when Alfred's won - not from his face, because Arthur's good enough to keep it out of his expression, but from something as small as his hand flexing... it's a gut punch.

The sick, cold feeling was back. It was like missing organs, or his skin, or half of himself. Maybe more than half of himself.

Sobbing The poor baby... it was bad enough with the first two sentences and then "Maybe more than half of himself" actually gutted me. They're so close, but more than that - Matt's humanity is bound up with Alfred in a lot of ways. So maybe more than half of him is missing.

Alfred was lost, and his entire body felt so wrong, with only his frosted fields and forests and none of the blast of noise and life that was his brother.

I don't have much to say here, it's just that this one gutted me exactly like the last one. Matt's pain is so clear and heartbreaking, you're too good at this.

“You know what? Fuck this. I brought your good knife. Let's get answers.”

On the one hand, YAY THE MURDER MOOSE IS COMING. On the other hand, the image of them shifting from being on the verge of collapsing emotionally into that very bloodthirsty determination is still hurting me. They love Alfred so much and they're hellbent on finding him. (But also, Arthur is once again enabling/calling on the lost-humanity/violent/perfect soldier side of Matt that Alfred hates so much and I think that is a very interesting dynamic - they're motivated by how much they love him, and they're using tools he hates because they harm the brother he loves. And it's Matt's choice to a great extent, but from Alfred's perspective this would look like Arthur sacrificing Matt for his preferred son. It is very twisty emotionally.)

I was planning to go to sleep before you posted and then I dropped EVERYTHING to read. I know I'm repeating myself, but this story and every chapter in it is absolutely excellent. Thank you so, so much for this.

God your comments make my brain go brrrrr and crystalize so many of the things I'm trying to get across without being super conscious about it ahhhh.

I love this little glimpse into Alfred's relationship with the government - the idea that they give him a "tinkering budget" that needs to be carefully managed is fun, but even more intriguing is the implication that it's a stepping stone to higher posts because there are times Jones doesn't cooperate.

Oh, he very much does not cooperate when he doesn’t want to. Arthur half abandoned that kid in the 17th century, and Alfred’s been getting himself in and out of trouble for 400 years. He won't be found if he doesn't want to be found. Good luck putting a collar on a nuclear-powered half immortal with more experience getting out of nets than a fucken eel.

Okay, it's a little bit Matt's fault for smoking pot in the park, but I feel bad that even to humans viewing them as humans Alfred's the exceptional one. That's heartbreaking.

Matt’s the family burn-out freeloading off his brother’s defence budget, and he prefers it that way. No one’s up in his business like they are Alfred’s, lol. Alfred’s brain is full of bees, business and brilliance, and Matt’s been recycling the 1 serotonin for 400 years

It’s sad, but it's also very protective for Matt. Faking his death every so often is the easiest way for him to duck out responsibilities.

Aaaaand emotion. "Northwoods sabbatical" is hilarious, but I can't decide what's more heartbreaking - Matt not telling his father about every time, or Arthur finding out that his son's been having these breakdowns more often than he thought. At least Matt knew Arthur would be upset? Like, it's horrible that he feels like he has to manage other people's feelings like that, but at least it's "it'll worry him" instead of "he won't care"?

At least! Arthur is terrible, but he does give most of a fuck. gahhhh they’re killing me.

[mamamittens]

Ya know, for like, 2 years now I've had this brain worm about what if Ace had a twin?

Like, a sister that takes more obviously after their mom so despite being twins they only sorta look alike.

And the sister becoming a marine like Garp wanted specifically to save her increasing amount of unhinged brothers if/when they get in over their heads. Cause she definitely clocked all three of them as "incredibly likely to get arrested in the near future).

And Ace resents the shit out of this cause it feels like betrayal and like she wants nothing to do with him. When really she's just trying to look after him in her own way. So Ace refuses to acknowledge her to anyone, accidentally solidifying the lie that they're unrelated.

Until Marineford, the day she had been dreading. And at the worst possible moment, just before the announcement of his execution, she is diagnosed with the same illness their father had. Her only chance is to find her father's doctor and hope he has a cure.

But Ace is in Impel Down.

So she cashes in favors and 'visits' before going on her medical sabbatical.

Luffy still goes into Impel Down.

Ace still sits on the execution stand.

But Garp and Luffy know right away that it's not Ace. It's his twin, gender swapped (and made even sicker because it hits men harder) and taking his place. Giving him the chance to truly leave his heritage behind as he's 'escorted' to Whitebeard by a trusted friend (naturally knocked the fuck out).

But then Luffy shows up and now she's gotta get out to save her other stupid brother. Without any of Ace's advantages but the unique skills she developed in anticipation for fighting her superior officers for her brother's lives.

Barely escaping, sicker than ever before and on strict bed rest, they run into Whitebeard.

And a very upset Ace. Who, contrary to her fears, doesn't try to knock her block off. Ace can't help but wonder if their mother looked as bad when they were born and can't raise a hand to his stupid sister when she's like this.

Finally, after years of a strained relationship, they are reunited. And also quite thankfully, Whitebeard has the needed contacts to get a hold of their father's doctor. It's close, closer than anyone would like, but they survive.

And they're finally free.

Idk, it sounds super sweet and angsty every time I think about it lol

[oceansprompts]

marvel's midnight suns | misc quotes 5

But I guess Queens is not important enough for the news media to cover.

Sometimes I feel like I should be there with her…

Second… New York already had a hellmouth in Staten Island…

Yes, How do I stop my science-minded brain from melting into whimpering sludge?

I even knew a doctor that accidently turned himself into a vampire.

Why, because one of my ex-nemeses now lives in the same building…

Anyway, that’s not the only reason I’m on edge…

So, word on the street is that you just got a massive shipment of artisan sodas…

But that’s just it, what if that radioactive spider decided to chomp down on someone else’s behind…

Wow. The books in this place are something else…

I’m not asking you to pull any strings for me or anything like that…

So, you got a favorite genre of music we could put the tune to?

You said be the best I can be and I’m all for that…

So, I’m the guy who stops bag snatchers and ATM thieves…

So, are you one of the kids? Or the second oldest adult? I don’t know how to treat you.

I haven’t lived with people outside of family. Am I doing it wrong? Do I write an apology note, or… How do I fix this?

Here, I have access to two whole Super Hero teams, each with their own way of doing things. It’s eye-opening.

So what’s your preference? I heard you spent much of your life working solo…

So you’re an open book, huh?

Is that something you were striving for?

Did you ever go through a rebellious stage?

I used to be self-conscious of my appearance…

Do you have any desire to fly?

My reputation might be intimidating…

Unless you don’t have the desire to explore.

You don’t see me as hard to approach?

Uh… Thanks again for what you did for me…

We’ve been so busy. I haven’t processed what I did under their control…

The worst are the faces I don’t remember…

Then… Nothing. I’ve had that one on loop for days.

Hey, uh… You didn’t read it, did you?

I spent most of my childhood trying to measure up to that monster’s unattainable standards.

True, it’s just this place reminds me of the church…

No, he caught the bad guy like he always does…

I’m really starting to get used to this place…

Those heroes often do what is “right”, even if that means…

Oh, that’s my stomach. I think it’s time for a snack…

I–I think you misunderstand. The suit turns into my clothes…

Okay, so far. Kinda reminds me of summer camp, but…

It sounds dangerous and I like that…

Yeah. But it’s also distracting having someone chew your ear off…

I thought I smelled a weird doggy odor…

It’s essentially a substance used to make people into weapons.

We can’t all be born as unlucky as me.

I don’t get that feeling anymore, do you?

The map we have is pretty loose, but luckily, you’re gonna have me leading the way…

Yup, and we’re sorely lacking in the Hulk-killer department.

I hid Cap’s ‘America’s Number One Dad’ mug someplace he’ll never find it.

Man was I glad when indoor plumbing became a thing.

So, uh… Thanks for not leaving this old man behind.

Something softer, like Bob or Moonchild…

Or… maybe it’s the fact that I somehow managed to make a new friend.

Well so much for that. So… uh… What do you like to do for fun?

But spending time with you has given me complete utter faith…

The air always feels wrong here. Makes my hair stand on end.

No. You and me, doing this? Living weapons ain’t designed to relax. Can make a fella downright resentful.

Okay, I’m on sabbatical…

Don’t get in the habit of relaxing like this. Our enemies don’t take the day off.

I’ve seen how you are together…

When you run into someone you thought was gone for years…

[thecheshiredragon]

So we all have head canons about the babyface prince with anger management issues rivalling a fledgling Brujah's. With recent Art on here (blaming @zeiinep and @skeltrr for their amazing art) my brain(rot) went into overdrive and made me post mine into the mix. So here have them and do whatever you want with them but they need to be out of my head.

This is mostly going to be addressing his relationship with his sire and leading up to his demise. Coming full circle from him nearly dying in Waterloo back to his final death while never really having left the warzone - or at least the mindset.

When his sire picked him up it wasn't with the intention of "raising a king". He was a soldier, a minor noble, and much more useful as an glorified errand boy.

So he got just enough knowledge to not embarrass his sire - being made to follow orders with a combination of a fledglings bloodbond, fear of recuperations and hope for just making it to any form of independent being within the camarilla if he just does what he was being told.

In between constantly fearing any kind of miss-step leading to him being killed and moving around the world he manages to accumulate a certain reputation - that of being a pet, a particularly silly Neonate not realizing his position.

He does realize it. But admitting it would just mean he could lay down to die. So he keeps lying to himself and hoping to get out. And at some point he gets the chance.

He either kills or at least has a hand in the killing of his Sire - and manages to do so without drawing too much suspicion. Having been the laughing stock of the community certainly has helped avoid an untimely death even if the century of barely hidden ridicule left quite a few scars.

So now he is free, right? Wrong. Of course nothing much changes. The direct control of his sire changes to just slightly less direct control by the camarilla. But he got at least enough freedom to build up a bit of a fortune for himself. He picks up Mercurio along the way. Yet he remains his only ghoul. His trust issues are just a bit too great to split his attention between several ghouls - much less trust a fledgling of his own making.

Its going reasonably well for a while. He never manages to gain the respect how thinks he deserves for how far he had made it regardless of the circumstances. But it hurts a lot less than it used to.

And of course that moment of near relaxation turn to shit within an instance. Someone somewhere decides to get rid of him by placing him in LA. He knows its not the gift they frame it as. He has no idea how to lead a city - they know it, he knows it. And the city is running rampant with Sabbat, Anarch's and Kuei-jin - the few Camarilla agents left are shrewd and in at least one case much older than him. He knows they'll not accept him as the new prince so he cannot even hope to have any kind of help from them either.

He knows this will be his downfall when he does - and he knows they'll find another way to get rid of him if he refuses. And there is still this hope that maybe, just maybe he can turn this around somehow.

We already know he does not manage it. Since his arrival things have gone from bad to worse rather quickly. He's felt the stress of not making any errors for near on two centuries.. and now Strauss helpfully mentions every little miss-step he makes like the good advisor he is and would be to any prince, no matter how young and inexperienced.

His time is running short, his temper even more so. He has to get this too work before the city tears either itself or him to shreds. And so he plans to use a group to get rid of another. His choice falls on the Kuei-jin if only because they are the most predictable in their expansion politic.

And then the cursed sarcophagus rolls around and Sébastien does not see it for the trap it is - to a drowning man even a venomous snake looks like a rope out of the water.

In short. Yeah he's a terrible little gremlin. But he's probably not as stupid as many make him out to be.

He's desperate to stay alive and in power and digs his own grave trying to get out of a death trap.