#feels like putting him into this au was inevitable lol

[rosylix]

rosy

더 깊이 빠져들겠지 더 조금씩 더 조금씩 넌...

you don't know how to give a hickey.. what are friends for if not to help each other with these things?

pairing: bff!felix × gn!reader

wc: 4.3k

content: nonidol au, fluff, not rly smut but suggestive (mdni pls), shy/inexperienced reader, hickeys (duh), reader is like slightly germophobic idk, a lot of teasing, no use of y/n

a/n: i am so delusional i need to bite this mans neck badly. and yes this is my username. yes it's the loona song. lol

[also read on ao3]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

—

God, you should have just kept your mouth shut.

“You don't know how to give a hickey?”

You shake your head and cover your face, hiding from Felix, who's sitting next to you on his bed.

“Wait, really? Like you've never even tried it on yourself?” he asks.

“No?! What, people actually do that?” Your hands lower slightly to reveal your eyes widening.

He breathes out a laugh and you hit his arm. “It's not funny!”

“It's kind of funny.”

“Shut up. I just— like— I never… whatever.” He poorly conceals a teasing smile. “Shut up or you're literally not getting any cinnamon rolls tomorrow. In fact, lemme ask Hannie if he wants your extras.” You pull out your phone.

Before you can do anything, Felix swiftly moves closer to you, his hand pushing yours down. “Whoa, whoa, hey.. that's a little drastic, yeah? Have I ever told you how much I love and appreciate you? ..And your cinnamon rolls?” He smiles sweetly, batting his eyelashes at you.

You grumble but drop the phone and shake his hand away, pursing your lips to fight a smile. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence.

…And then Felix ruins it.

“But you've kissed people before, right?”

You look at him incredulously. “Did I not say to shut up??” you shriek.

“Is that a no?” He giggles. He fucking giggles. You want to punch his pretty face.

“Lee Felix Yongbok I will smite you down right here where you stand if you don't—”

He puts his hands up in surrender. “Okay wait, sorry, I didn't mean it like that! I just mean, it's kind of like the same thing, you know?”

“The same as what? Giving a h-hickey?” You can't help but stutter a little.

“Yeah like it's… I'll show you.” 

Felix suddenly moves so he's in front of you and gently grabs your arm. He'll show you?! Literally what. What the hell. You let out a small squeak and instinctively lean away from him. 

“Relax, I just meant here,” he touches your arm. “Is that okay?”

You stare at him.

“...Or I could show it on myself but I thought it might be better to feel it? Or I don't have to do it at all of course,” he says quickly.

Oh. It takes a second but the gears in your head start slowly turning enough to respond.

“Oh.” Well, okay, that wasn't as much of a response as you meant to give.

Felix laughs softly and pulls his hand away from your arm. “Sorry, it's too weird, right? No worries.”

But wait, you're actually curious. And isn't it better to figure it out before you inevitably make a fool out of yourself in front of someone else? It makes you a bit nervous but… you're comfortable with Felix. “No, wait, you can uh... show me…?”

His eyebrows raise for a second but then he smiles. “You sure?”

You nod. You still feel a little dazed and you're not really cognizant enough to actually do anything but watch him as he moves closer again. Your arm must feel like a dead weight but he lifts it up and lowers his head, placing a chaste kiss on your inner wrist. “This okay? Usually you um... start with kissing.”

“O-Oh, okay, yeah..” you murmur. What is this sudden weird atmosphere? Maybe you're the only one feeling it. Felix doesn't seem too phased, but you can feel your heart pounding in your chest. Shit, can he feel your pulse right now? You really hope not. 

He flashes a shy smile and places another kiss there, and another a little higher, and another, and it feels way too intimate and sends shivers up your spine. Slowly, he moves up your forearm, stopping right before your elbow.

“So… then.. you just wanna like... suck,” he says before doing just that, right below the crook of your elbow. 

Oh. It feels weird. You must have made a noise or something because he looks up at you through dark lashes, a smile playing on the corners of his lips. You swallow. What the actual hell is happening right now? 

After holding excruciating eye contact for what feels like an eternity, he lets his eyes close. Thank god, because it was making your chest feel tight and weird. You continue to stare as he continues kissing and sucking at your arm, face absolutely burning at the strange sensation.

You've literally lost the freaking plot. You just sit there, no semblance of time passing. After about twenty seconds? Twenty minutes? It literally could have been either — he finally pulls away, with a final kiss and light drag of his teeth against your skin. 

You hold your breath as he sits up and gently maneuvers your arm so you could see the fruits of his labor. He clears his throat. “Um, so… it's starting to show up. See?” he says a little breathlessly.

You nod, unsure what to say when your best friend literally just sucked a hickey onto your arm. A very platonic hickey. Okay. This is fine. This is totally normal right? It must be or he wouldn't have offered. ..Right? You stare down at the bruise starting to blossom on your arm and finally chance a glance at Felix, but he also has his head down, staring at your arm.

Suddenly as if on cue, his head jerks up. When he sees you looking at him he grins. “Cool, right? How does it feel?” 

“Weird…” you mumble. How can he be so nonchalant about this? You want to strangle him.

He nods. “It might be a little sensitive for a bit.” He runs his fingers lightly over the reddening area and you immediately see what he means. It feels tender and tingly under his touch. You shiver. “So.. you think you get how to do it now?” he asks. 

“Um… yeah, I mean, maybe?”

“Do you wanna try?”

“Try? What, on… on your arm?!” 

A slight blush creeps up his face and he shrugs. “Sure, or wherever… my arm, or my neck since that's where it's usually…”

You feel your face heat up as well. “I…”

“I just thought, if you wanna like, practice? But of course you don't have to.” He looks away and shrugs again, seeming a little embarrassed for suggesting it.

You open and close your mouth over and over again like a fish. Like a stupid dumb fish who somehow got itself reeled into this crazy situation. But honestly, the more you think about it, the offer to practice is tempting. When would you get another opportunity like this? Probably never. And… you trust Felix more than anyone else.

“...Is it really okay?” you ask hesitantly.

Felix looks up, blinking a few times before smiling. “Of course. I mean, it's only fair since I did it on you,” he laughs softly. He seems happy but also a little surprised that you actually appeared to be agreeing to his offer. Honestly, you're surprised too.

“Right, um…” you mumble. You shuffle a little closer to him. His hand slides down from your elbow to your hand, rubbing gentle circles on the back of it with his thumb. To reassure you, you think. It's a sweet gesture.

You lean in slightly towards his neck, deciding that if you do it here, you can hide your face from him and avoid any eye contact. “Um, can I...? Where should I…?”

You're so close to him. You can hear his breath catch a little before he points to the side of his neck with his free hand. “Around here,” he says, his voice somehow getting impossibly lower.

You swallow, the reality of the situation suddenly sinking in. As you lean in further you bite your lip, anxious. You need to break this tension somehow. You just can't do this right now. “Um.. um… do you wash your neck?” you blurt out.

Felix leans back a little. “Do I... do I wash my neck? That's what you're worried about?” he laughs.

“Some people probably don't!” you exclaim. Then you sigh. “Ugh, s-sorry, that's stupid, right? You literally licked my arm,” you let out a nervous laugh. “I just— I don't know. It feels icky. Germs.” 

He hums. “You're not stupid.” A pause. “But, I can proudly say I do wash my neck.” He presses his lips together, clearly suppressing another laugh and you just know he's about to tease you. “Wow, how do you even kiss people if you're this worried about germs?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, leaning back into his neck a little to hide your face, your breath hot on his neck. He inhales sharply and seems surprised and, you think, a little panicked?

You instantly pull away. “Felix, are you sure?” You chew on your lip. Is this a bad idea after all?

“Yeah, I-I... yeah, of course,” he says, a little breathless, but you're not entirely convinced. You start to move away fully but he quickly grabs your arm again. “No.. no, wait. Please,” he whispers. You see him visibly try to relax, taking a deep breath in and out. “It's okay. I promise. I was just caught off guard.”

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“No, no, you're good, you're fine. It was me.” Felix clears his throat and rubs your arm reassuringly. 

You take a deep breath. “Okay… so.. here?” You lean back in to where you were previously, breath hitting his neck.

He swallows, and you see it because his Adam's apple bobs up and down right in front of your face. What the fuck. “Yeah. Just go slow and… you can start with kissing if you want. Don't overthink it,” he mumbles, sounding more like he's reminding himself of something.

You nod and slowly, so slowly, you lean in the rest of the way and press your lips to his neck.

You expected him to remain still but a small breathy noise escapes him and he leans his head further back, exposing more of his neck in the process. You swear you can feel his pulse thrumming under your lips. “Good... um.. yeah, just... kiss a little bit and then suck. You can use your tongue, too,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, but you can feel the vibrations against your lips when he speaks. What the fuck.

Your head feels fuzzy. You hesitantly place a kiss on his neck, and then another a little higher, and another, until you reach an area you're satisfied with. You almost want to pull away but remember Felix's words. Right. Just try not to overthink it…

He pulls a breath in through his teeth when you press an open-mouthed kiss and start sucking gently. At the same time, your tongue darts out almost automatically and touches his skin. 

You feel him swallow thickly. “Y-You gotta… harder…” he murmurs. “Or it won't mark.”

You hesitate. “Won't it hurt?”

He blinks hard and shakes his head slightly. “Don't worry… I-I'll tell you if it hurts, okay? Just try. Do it like I did.”

You nod and take a deep breath before trying again, this time in earnest, sucking harder and pulling his skin between your lips and even past your teeth.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, his grip on your arm tightening, “Like... like that. And you can.. use your teeth a little too.” His voice is getting thick, low, and raspy and, god, you feel a little dizzy.

But you want to please him, so you bite down softly and let your teeth run over the area. A quiet, high-pitched whine escapes his lips, and his hand shoots up to cover his mouth, body jerking back slightly. He suddenly seems to realize the noise he made and looks at you, wide-eyed.

You pull back again, a little breathless. “D-Did it hurt?” You really didn't think you bit that hard, but you can't hide the worry in your voice.

His hand drops from his mouth, face flushed and breathing labored. His eyes look a little dialed out. “No... no, it didn't.. hurt.” It seems like it takes all his strength just to say that. “Sorry, I just...” he takes a few more seconds to gather himself, “Um, kinda sensitive…”

…Sensitive? Oh. Oh. It was good. He liked it. You almost sigh in relief. But then… wait. He's sensitive there. He… Your brain isn't working. You find yourself leaning back in to his neck without thinking.

Felix doesn’t protest, just sits back, exposing more of his neck to you. You feel his body shudder when you lightly drag your teeth over the area before attaching your mouth more firmly and sucking at his skin.

He can’t stop the whimper from leaving his throat. “That feels really good.. you’re doing good,” he pants.

Your heart swells from the praise and you double down on your efforts. You hear him try to suppress another whimper but it’s more strained this time. It happens again and again, little noises and whines that you're not sure if he's even aware he's making. Every noise pulls and tugs at something in your stomach.

It feels intimate, so insanely intimate and you think you might combust on the spot if you go any longer. It's a bit nerve-wracking to pull away and face Felix but you force yourself to, licking your lips as you retreat.

Your eyes immediately widen at the sight in front of you. A pretty, deep pink bruise begins to blossom on his neck and your heart skips a beat at the realization that you did that to him.

Felix hasn't said anything. Is he upset? You chance a glance at his face and—

Oh. His eyes are closed and a faint sheen of sweat coats his flushed face, which is pulled taught in a mixture of bliss and something like pain. His chest is heaving, breath coming out in quick gasps. You stare at him, the only thought in your mind being: God, he's gorgeous like this.

He blinks rapidly and seems to finally come to. When he finally refocuses his gaze on you, he lets out a shaky exhale that turns into a weak laugh.

“...Good?” he asks.

Good? Good? Your head is spinning. It's not good. Nothing is good. Life is meaningless and everything you know exists on a floating rock spinning in the void and you think you're gonna pass out and never wake up. It's not good. It's fucking crazy. But you just mumble, “It's… showing up, I think…”

He raises an eyebrow. “That right? Let me see then.”

Felix grabs his phone and pulls up the camera, angling it so he has a clear view of his neck. He lets out a soft whistle, bringing his hand up to feel where the hickey is. You watch dumbly as he presses his fingers on it and lets out a shaky sigh. Then he looks at you and grins before throwing you a thumbs-up. “You did great. It's already pretty dark.”

You actually want to kill him. Your brain is melting and he's acting like this is the most normal afternoon of his life. Maybe it is. Does Felix do this type of thing often? The thought makes you shiver.

You throw your hands over your face. “I-I didn't mean for it to be that—like—ugh…”

His smile softens. “Hey, hey, you don't have to be embarrassed. It's…” he searches your face for a second and suddenly reaches over to gently pull your hands away. “It's not that bad. You did really good. Besides, it’s my neck, yeah?” His tone shifts to more of a teasing one, like he’s amused you’re overreacting a little. It just serves to frustrate you more.

You sigh. “Um… I really—it's really okay..?”

He nods. “Yeah, of course it is. It’s just a little mark, nothing serious.” He looks at you thoughtfully for a bit and you feel yourself getting flushed under his gaze. “You know.. you can try it again. If you want. Just to practice. Or for science, or whatever.” He laughs.

What. You’re stunned into silence. Science? You stare at him incredulously and he just grins back before leaning even further forward. This can't be your Felix. This is actually crazy. 

Felix smiles at your dumbfounded expression. “…Come on.” He brings a hand up to your face and pokes at your cheek softly. “Do it again. Try a different spot. Make it darker.”

He's obviously teasing you. So you're flabbergasted when what comes out of your mouth is, “W-Where..?” Where? Literally what are you saying. Like, where is the nearest exit? Where has your own sanity gone? That's what you should be asking.

He shrugs. “Anywhere. The other side?” He points to the unmarked side of his neck. Then he pushes his shirt down slightly, revealing a sliver of his shoulder and collarbone before looking back at you, eyes expectant with a bit of an impish gleam. “Maybe.. here?” he mumbles.

Your head spins. Oh yeah, you're definitely gonna pass out. It's so over. Life and death and the universe… fucking craziness. You're falling. You're dying. Everything is melting. Nothing's real.

Oh wait, you're actually falling, your head plopping down on his shoulder as you let out an embarrassed groan. 

You hear him laughing softly. “Someone's eager—”

You’re a bit confused but then your eyes focus on the place your head is now laying and—Oh god, you’re right where his shoulder and neck meet. Right where he just told you to suck a hickey. Great.

You instantly lift your head up, face burning. “No, I didn't—I wasn't trying to—”

He brushes the hair out of your face. “Hey, it's okay, I'm not forcing you or anything. Are you overwhelmed?” 

“Um, yeah, but— y-yeah. Sorry.” God. How pathetic do you look right now?

“Don't apologize. I was just teasing. It makes sense to be overwhelmed. It's a new experience.” He sits back and laughs but there’s a bit of a nervous waver to it. “You're fine, seriously. Maybe we got a little carried away, huh?”

“Uhh— yeah….”

He gives you an apologetic look. “I'm sorry for being pushy. Let's just... just forget about the whole thing, yeah? Let's play some video games or something.” He clears his throat.

He's moving on but your head is still spinning. This really is the most normal afternoon for him, you think. Because how is he so chill? Your body is still buzzing with nervous energy and you can't just switch off and forget about it, can you?

You can't. “Uh— Uh, wait—...”

“...Yeah?”

You drop your head back down onto his shoulder. “Um… is it bad if I… kinda…”

You trail off and he doesn’t respond for a few seconds. You don’t dare move, waiting for something, anything. When he finally does say something his voice sounds strained. “Kinda what?” he asks quietly.

“Um.” Fuck. “Nevermind.” You go to draw back but Felix quickly places a hand at the back of your head, preventing any movement.

You hear him exhale quietly. “I don't mind, you know,” he whispers. “You can do it. If you... if you want to.” He slowly starts running his fingers through your hair. “If you wanna practice. The more you practice, the more comfortable you'll be with it, right?”

You hum against his shoulder, the justification mulling around in your head. Of course. Of course that's why you want to. For practice. For science.

He continues. “Yeah, do it. Uh, j-just, I mean— if you want. A-As practice. Try to… see how dark you can make it… or… ” For all the talk he was making before, he stutters now, and you can't help but find it a little endearing. Maybe he's actually a little nervous as well.

Fuck it. Who cares. You've lost the plot. You press your mouth against his skin, giving a few open-mouthed kisses before gently sucking at it.

You hear his breathing stutter and he shifts slightly. “Yeah, j-just…” he lets out a shaky sigh and presses his hand a bit more firmly on the back of your head, bringing you closer to him. The angle is still a bit awkward to reach, so without much thinking, you crawl slightly onto his lap.

“Oh,” he mumbles, his body goes tense for a second before relaxing again. He's completely still, like if he moves you’ll pull away, but eventually his fingers start running through your hair again. It isn't a particularly suggestive position, you're sitting back more towards his knees, but suddenly everything feels charged with tension. 

You hear a low, almost imperceptible groan as you continue sucking lightly from the new angle. “You're doing really well,” he mutters encouragingly. “Just a little more… harder. And like, bite a little, remember?”

Right. You comply and bite down a little. Felix lets out a small whine, hand tightening in your hair. “Good… uh, just like that..” he mumbles. “You can try moving a little more, if you want—”

You don't need to hear more, instantly moving your mouth higher up his neck without much thought. His fingers slide down until his hands are completely resting between your shoulder blades, pressing you closer. Shivers run down your spine where he touches and you attach your lips to the side of his Adam's apple.

“A-Ah…” a shaky moan escapes him, taking both of you by surprise. His hands suddenly jump down to grip your waist tightly. Oh. He seems much more sensitive here. You swear you're dizzy. Maybe you're dying. You think you’re fine with that honestly.

You want to bite him. You let your teeth sink into the skin a little. He lets out a shaky half-laugh, half-groan, tilting his head back and pulling you towards him. “Y-You learn quickly.” A deep pink flush runs high on his cheeks, and his breaths are unsteady. You’ve never seen him like this, so undone, and it's making you feel powerful. You want more.

You decide to give in to that and bite down harder, feeling his body jerk. He moans, breathy, and whispers, “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, that feels so good.” One of his hands moves to the back of your neck, fingers gently grasping the base of your hair. His thumb brushes up against your earlobe and for some reason it sets tingles off all down your spine.

…Does it really feel that good? You can't help but wonder. It mostly just felt weird on your arm but you suppose that's different. Different from your. Neck. Oh fuck, now you're thinking about it. His mouth on your neck. His mouth on your neck. You're floating. You're crashing. Everything is cool. Everything is burning. 

Your brain is practically short-circuiting and you start sucking on the same spot before pulling back just enough to bite down and suck at it again, this time a little harder.

His breath stutters and you feel his head tilt to give you more access. There's another small gasp that comes out as a strained “Fuuuck…” when you continue. You think you're actually delirious at this point.

Then, “W-wait..” he says urgently, his chest heaving. His hand that was on your neck slides down to grab your shoulder now.

“That's… good. We should.. stop. I…” he pants heavily.

You pull away instantly. “O-Okay. Yeah. Sorry.” You feel restless, fidgety, more than just from nerves.

“No, you're fine, god. It's me. I'm getting too…” he shakes his head. “You did really good, I…” He presses his hands against his eyes and takes a few deep, slow breaths.

When he drops his hands he seems mostly back to normal. “Um.” He laughs a little. “We, uh… how's it look?”

You stare at his neck and shoulder. Oh, fuck. In truth, it looks fucking insane. Like he got mauled or something. Oh my god. That was you. What came over you?

He raises an eyebrow at your silence. “Guess I gotta see for myself,” he says and places his hands on your waist to lift you up and off of his lap. As if you weigh literally nothing. What the fuck.

With your head still reeling at how he lifted you like you're nothing, you don't really notice him reaching for his phone to see himself until you hear him suck in a breath.

“Wow… I'm gonna get so many comments tomorrow.”

“What?!” you shriek. Oh god. Of course it'll take a few days to fade. You hadn't even thought about that. The light mark on your arm is easy to brush off as nothing but the rosy hues on his neck are unmistakable.

He laughs. “I'm just kidding. I'll have to.. cover it with makeup I guess. Don't worry.”

“You better…” you mumble, embarrassed.

He hums. “Hmm… Well it isn't really fair... What should I do…” He leans in, studying your flushed face. “Wanna match?” he says with a cheeky grin.

“What?? Felix!”

“I'm joking! Jeez…” He pokes your cheek. “Unless all this blushing isn't just from embarrassment and you're actually into this?” 

Your face is positively burning. “Shut up. You're annoying as hell,” you grumble.

He gasps dramatically. “After I gave up my sanctity for you to practice on me? This is how you treat me?”

You can't help but giggle at his dramatics but you quickly steel your expression and glare at him equally as dramatically.

You're really grateful everything seems to be normal on his end. You're trying your best to act the same, but in truth, you feel like a fucking mess. His joking comment about you being into this… No, definitely not. There's no way. It's probably just because it's your first time doing this with anyone, so of course it's going to feel crazy and weird and confusing. Right? Yeah. But still. Even long after the two of you move on, playing video games and hanging out like normal, you can't shake the feeling that something's weird. Something shifted. You don't know what the fuck it is though. You just try not to think about it.

How are you actually supposed to go back to normal after this?

—

a/n: so on a scale of 1 to 10 how painfully obvious is it that i've never given a hickey in my life.

no but um haha any feedback good or bad would be super appreciated!! pls leave a like or reblog if u enjoyed it makes me so happy. tysm for reading <3

part 2

[cryptfile]

Ꮺ˖˚₊ leeches, [ logan howlett x vampire!reader au ]

summary — logan howlett lacks of patience (and he can also be a nice little blood-bag while losing his temper). 8k+

warnings — 18+ mdni, fem!reader implied, blood kink (keep in mind you’re a vampire! not twilight but more of a true blood kind?) downright filth im sorry, dead dove do not eat, smoker!reader, endless tension, manhandling, praise kink, kind of porn without plot (LIES CAUSE IT HAS ONE THO??) my boy's into paaaaaain can't help it it's canon, age-gap at first (reader is her 20's but again, vampire), public sex (it just happened), daily reminder to wrap it before you tap it, p in v, choking, filthy mouth, pet names.

side notes — thought this could take place after days of the future past? au cause why nottttt ,,currently on ovulation season so bare with me,,, been a little mia cause i’m surviving aka going through the worst semester of my life at uni? internships are breaking my ass currently so well, here i am just existing, also, english’s not my first language and everyday i’m grateful for it, so any mistakes i’m not sorry in advance lol i’m also too lazy to correct once published,, feel free to send more logan requests since i've basically been a slut for him for a while now (i'm rotting in hell).

He could swear the mansion got ten degrees hotter when you came in.

It’s inevitable. It’s this thing you carry, the way you move — Graceful, elegant, almost compelling as the air fills the room. It’s not public knowledge that you’re not a mutant itself, yet you’re presented like one, like you have healing factors and age painfully slow, but human after all, a subtle lie, one that can harm no one.

It’s safe to say you catch his attention in the most annoying way: How couldn’t you? All you do is this weird seduction he’s appealed to, whether you’re conscious or not it’s just captivating, an invisible force that even when you ignore it is there, there waiting for the perfect moment to flood every time you happen to be in the same room.

Captivating. That’s the word.

The room becomes smaller after, the air grows thicker, and it’s almost like a ticking bomb, the way you wouldn’t even look at his face while he’s noticeable pinning after Jean Grey, the mystery that surrounds you and he cannot seem to resolve no matter how much time he puts into it.

It’s like he's the plague. You don’t really try to exchange more than just a few words, only when it's needed and you cannot avoid him any longer, and he didn’t say anything at first, keeping his distance too cause he don’t see how you’d become friends, cause after all, what he could have in common with a girl that doesn't surpass the twenty years?

But soon he's upset about it, even when he doesn't really say anything out loud, it's a spike he cannot reach under his skin. You seem to become friends with anyone but him, mutant kids in your history lessons, the rest of the team, even the damn mailman when he delivered a package — You'd say hello like it's a long time lover or so, greeting people like they mean the world to you.

He has students now that are asking for a transfer from his class to yours cause it seems you're fun to be around, more like he is, and he fucking hates it.

It's fair to say it's been getting into his mind lately. That thing you do with your hair, twisting it in your index finger on a lock as you speak, the subtle red glow in your eyes he always catches by mistake, not enough fast to stop looking at you, pretending he didn't even see in your direction at first.

Tension. Logan just happens to hate tension.

In fact. He's almost sure your problem is personal, that you might hate him enough to act like he didn't exist at all, enough to avoid him like he was not there.

That's why it's just so weird.

When he finds himself walking down the hallway to the kitchen and he smells this cherry-scented aroma that settles under his nostrils, he changes the direction he's walking to, to instead, follow the path to the person that was silently smoking outside. Hiding. Maybe, a student he'll have to scold like the old man he was turning into.

No smoking in the mansion!

However, as the night is just settling, he doesn't recognize a little mutant, but instead happens to recognize you in the middle of the gardens of the mansion, close to the maze; escaping the comfort of the inside to enjoy a self-rolled cherry tobacco he has smelled before in the air. He's a victim mostly, cause his legs move on it's own as his mouth go dry, approaching you in silence.

"What do you want?" you ask when he's halfway there. And your tone is just cold as ever, not an ounce of feeling as he contemplates your side profile, the way the tobacco sticks out of your parted lips, seated on a bench hidden between bushes and trees — "Is Scott bitching about the smell going into the mansion already?"

No. He's not. But he doesn't have enough reasons to explain exactly why he's outside if you asked, why, all of sudden, he followed the scent of cherry knowing it was you the only one who carried a colts package in the pocket of every single jacket you wore, constantly asking Storm if she could hold on to the bag of filters for you while you rolled in the worst moments.

It's distracting, to say the least.

"Yeah," he quickly says, lying cause in reality he hasn't seen the guy in the whole day, yet it sounds like something he would say. "Do you happen to have another one of those to share?"

You don't talk much, hand reaching his as you offered him from your tobacco without a single word, the same that was placed between your lips and now was on his in what seemed to be something more intimate than what he'd like to admit, the cherry taste filling his lungs as they weirdly enough, shared a cig.

"Aren't you too young to be smoking?"

You laugh, and the sound sends a shiver down his spine cause he has never heard a sound quite like it, nothing that resembles that throaty, raspy sound that came out of your lips in amusement thanks to his words. He, out of all people, has never seen you like that — "And how old you think I am?"

He seems to think about it for a second, carefully picking his next words. Logan knows that women and their age are a tricky thing, you cannot say a number that's too compromising, nor act stupid and say something that's clearly not correct — "Not a day over twenty-two."

The answer pleases you, and he just knows he's wrong, but you don't seem bothered by it, instead, you nod pretending he's right, like he just got the answer right away.

He can see why everyone's switching classes now. Cheeky bastards.

"Twenty-two is not young at all, but i'm twenty-seven though," you say, and he scoffs at the statement, seeking for any change in your heartbeat, any sign of a lie. The strange thing happens when he cannot pick any heart at all, any sign of pulse.

"You are pretty young still," he says, against his age, you’re just starting out living—. "You don't look like you are twenty-seven at all."

"Cause I age slower than the rest," it's a practiced lie. One you know from repeating the same explanation over and over again, the priced answer of why you haven't changed a single bit in the past few years and made you a mutant — "I never looked my age."

Such a fucking liar. He doesn't need any heartbeats to confirm it cause deep down you are a terrible actress, he can see it so clear, how you're calculating every answer, thinking about the correct thing to say, the normal thing to say.

"Is that your thing?" he asks, playing pretend almost as bad as you do. Tilting his head to the side as he questions you — "Age slowly?"

"I have healing powers," you explain as he tossed you the joint once again. "My saliva kinds of help healing wounds. It's pretty boring."

"Boring" Logan repeats. The word itself sounds so damn fun in your lips it's contradicting. "That doesn’t sound really boring."

There's a moment of silence after that. Where you smoke in silence taking in the taste of the cherry, and he is having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that your lips also touched the side of the cigar he was smoking before, the plain lies you've been repeating over and over the last ten minutes.

It's almost infuriating. Makes his blood boil without question, he surely endures your treatment of silence, but being lied to? That's a whole different level.

“How old are you, kid?”

Your brows furrow in response, a clueless face. You are pulling out this show once again Logan don’t buy for a damn second. Something about the scrunch in your nose, the way you dismissed your own powers as if they weren’t enough. He knows it’s all a lie. He knows it even when he doesn’t really know you at all, when it’s the first time you’re truly speaking to him after your arrival to the mansion almost a year ago.

“How old you really are?”

You laugh at the question once again, and he just knows it, knows it when he sees you barely illuminated by the dim light of the moon, the act you always keep up, a web of tangled lies you have to be into— “Told you i'm twenty-seven already, didn't you hear?”

“Is it now?” he asks, amused by the sass, exhaling the smoke of the low-quality tobacco he doesn't understand why you're so invested in when passed it to him—. “Cause you don’t seem very convinced, it really sounds like bullshit to me.”

You're almost offended. By the look you give it's like the worst mistake he could ever make, yet you remain silent, not giving the satisfaction of an honest answer yet. Testing his patience like he did have one to begin with.

"Is that why I can’t hear your heartbeats, darlin'? Cause you age so slowly?”

The nickname scratches a part of your brain, and you hate him for it. The word rolls out of his tongue with an accent, smoking your cherry tobacco cause you happen to be nice.

“You can’t?” you’re good at faking it suddenly, at least, that's what he thinks when your brows furrow in alleged curiosity, stiffening your back, uncomfortable. “How weird.”

“Damn right it is” that's when you realize he knows you are lying. Even when you don’t talk much, even when you act all stiff and bothered when he’s close, he knows that you are fully invested in lying. In whatever twisted little lie you've planned, like it was your real life and not something you made up. “Are you going to tell me truth, then or do I have to find out? Does the professor know that you're lying?”

The smoke lingers in the air.

“How old are you?” he asks once again, demanding an honest answer this time — "Thirty? Thirty-five?"

You find his questions annoying, mostly cause he won't stop until he gets an answer, one that pleases him enough to leave you alone, the other part cause you happen to like the playful banter you two keep going, dangerously much. You don't hate attention it's clear, what you do hate it's the way he seemed to see pass the lie, to demand more even when he has no right to.

He enjoys being the one who's right though, Logan cannot help it. He's pleased to catch that look on your face who says everything but nothing at once, to have you where he wanted, almost at the edge of admitting a truth.

Is it payback because you've been stealing all of the little mutants from his class? He's jealous cause kids like being around you? It does not make much sense, but he is fully invested. Questioning all.

Even when you're outside, it seems like the air grows thicker. And Logan finds himself seeking for your breathing, cause he don't know nothing, nothing about you more than the fact you don't seem to have a heartbeat, or pulse and now, breathing.

“If you really are that eager to know, i'm a hundred and twenty-seven” the words float in the air for a while, and he's sure you're just messing with him, cause there's no way a pretty little face like yours had endured a century. “I've been alive for quite a while.”

He doesn't fully believe it first. Of course he doesn't. Logan's sure you're messing with him also, distracting him about your real age.

“And I supposed this do come from you slow aging powers” He tries to give you a point there, but it's difficult to be serious when you're just playing with him—. "How so?"

To be honest, you do have a little temper yourself, you've learned to stand up for yourself most of the time, so when you happen to notice he's teasing you, that he doesn't really believe you, you adopt this attitude of defense he notices as you shift over the wood you're seated in.

"No, it doesn't" you steal the joint from his hands to have a smoke yourself. "You really aren't as smart as I thought you were, huh?"

Do you happen to have a dead wish? His muscles tense beneath his shirt, and in contrast of his problem, you can hear it all. All the sounds his body makes when he's all bothered just by the beat of his heart, that annoying sound his bones make each time he moves.

"What are you?"

"That's it," the praising goes directly into his chest, the tone you use to tell him he's going in the right direction it feels just so right he forgets why he got mad in the first place—. "That's what you should be asking right there."

It's almost a shame having to admit he would also switch classes. That he would also go through all the paperwork himself without a second thought and that right there, is pathetic, but you're smiling at him as if you're encouraging the man to try harder, to find the answer himself, and fuck — He's old, too old, he's tired, he's in a bad mood as fucking usual, and he happens to dig a drink in the quiet of his own room, but he's pulled by something as equal as devastating as the gravity force, shoot towards you in pure need to have some answers even if he has to make you spit them.

"I find it strange, cause when you don't have a heartbeat, you aren't usually alive" Deep down he's fascinated, hazel eyes glues on your face trying to understand. He feels like he has it in the tip of his tongue waiting to leave his mouth as a catastrophic answer, but he doesn't find the right words.

"That's cause i'm not," you state it like it's something obvious. And just as he knows you're lying, this time, he knows you're telling the truth, blowing the smoke in his direction just to bother him — "Why do you think i'm teaching history after all huh?"

He hasn't seen it all, it seems.

Yeah.

He's losing it after that night.

It’s known that Logan has sleeping problems, but that night specifically he thinks about something else rather than what usually torments him, a truth he also has to keep a secret now that he's learned more about it.

See, Logan doesn't expect you to be really dead. Much less to hear what you are and have been hiding this whole time from the rest of the people in the mansion — He also learns that you feed on blood, that vampires are a common thing in the world and that he shouldn't, at least, be that surprised when he's a mutant in a world full of humans himself.

You are a folklore myth on small villages, stories in Rumania and horror character in films, so you don't blame him when as you spoke, he finally understands why you're so damn attractive, so damn seductive as you explained more about your way of living, some memories you've been keeping to yourself since being a vampire was so damn solitary, memories he listens to cause he knows what it's like, to be misunderstood, to be eternal, to be alone as well.

It makes the two of you grow closer by the next weeks. You now talked during broad daylight about random shit at first, about the war sometimes, about your condition as he refers to when people is around, eaves-dropping on what you two are talking so invested in. Friends.

Simple as that.

And it's safe to admit also that in the course of the next days, Logan Howlett is a fucking mess, and he knows it, but he won't do anything about it.

He won't flirt cause he knows you're a hell of a woman, in every good sense of the word, that he's way too damaged for a vampire even, for all kinds of people out there, and as much as he'd like to say anything, he values your attention, how you switched the attitude of acting like he didn't exist to be a friend, one that you came to share secrets with a cherry aroma glued in their skin.

It gets him insane, to the point he's no longer spending much time with Jean and people start to pick up on it as if he didn't have enough headaches already. He doesn't care. Shit you are not bothered by what people say, and to be honest, he cannot seem to care either.

At first, he's reluctant of keep on talking to you as normal as it is. He's not really invested in religious themes, but he sure admits you're a sin by all meanings, a religious experience of some kind if anyone asked him — He agrees with what he has heard also in the hallways. Innocent conversations of teens and their platonic crush on their teachers. You are pretty hot.

He's so interested in knowing more about you, about the nights you spend in Rumania, when you leave to Canada, the different lives you've lived across the years. He finds himself looking forward to share his stories too, weird enough, cause he's over two centuries himself and he just craves to talk about it with someone who also gets him in a deeper level, that weariness that fills your body when you age so long.

You got the best of immortality, and instead of feeling envious, Logan finds himself attracted to you so much like he's never been in his whole existence. Not at the point it happened with you at least.

By the end of the first month he knows your little treats. You use a lot of sunscreen, and avoid activities outside as much as you possibly can with those classic, tiny black sunglasses that hided you from the rays of the sun, always in the shadow so unapproachable; how you'd usually dismiss food offerings from anyone who's kind enough to even offer you something, and when you haven't fed well during the course of the week, you'd become the most maddening woman he'd ever met.

Maddening.

"What wrong with you, Leech?" Leech. You've been in such a bad mood lately that when he's seating next to you in another random smoking session outside, your fingers twitch, clearly pissed at the nickname after saying multiple times you don't like it.

"I'm not in the mood for plays now."

He can tell from before. When you talked to him that very morning and stared at the collar of his flannel for what it seemed a good, nice minute, he realizes the same moment that you were staring at that pulse point in his neck, where the flesh blood was pumping in his blood flow: You're hungry, as any living creature would be and at your own manner, in constant control as you fight the sense of hunger.

So instead, the mutant ask, like he always does when he’s curious about something that involves you:

"When did you last feed?"

"A couple of weeks ago."

That would explain it. You don't talk much about your meal plan, he knows the professor is in charge of all of that. You've told him about blood bags and hospitals, but he's not really aware of how constant you need to eat, how the blood supplies most of your energy, makes you stronger, gives you vitality, so Logan at first, don't really know what its like to not drink any blood in the course of two weeks.

"What happened with the blood bags from the Hospital?"

The mention of blood out loud seems to triggers you. A groan escaping your lips as you can swear you feel the taste in your mouth — "Don't know. Haven't seen a single one this week, Charles said something about next week, problems in the bank I guess."

You're clearly worked up. It's a new look he hasn't registered before, your hair is tangled in a less-composed look, and there's a slight shake in your hands as if you're going through withdrawal, deprived for what you needed the most.

"And animals?" he questions, trying to find a solution. “Can’t you eat a cat or something?”

"Like shit i'm going to feed from a fucking animal," you're almost immediately grossed out, scrunching your nose at the idea. "I can barely handle being so close to a damn human but animals? I'd rather fucking die this time for real, no waking up."

"That bad huh?" the mutant asks, taking a sip from the beer he sneaked outside, chucking lightly afterwards. "So you're a leech with elegant taste, huh? Of course you are."

"Clean blood is rare," you explain, rolling your eyes. It's inevitable. He knows you hate the nickname so much that he insists to keep on calling you that way just to get a reaction—. "Humans nowadays taste like dirt. They consume drugs among other substances, pills, food supplements, even damn vitamins, don’t get me started about blood diseases cause it gets me in a bad temper. Every single thing affects on your taste, even what you eat. It's all registered there. Clean, good blood is rare to find. Call me elegant, call me picky. It's a damn fact."

"And what about mutant blood?" he questions. And it seems like a mere phrase at first, one with no subtle tones, he’s usually curious about your nature so you don’t pay much attention as he spoke—. “You’re picky about mutants too?”

“No, i’ve never had a mutant before.” The truth is, you hate feeding from people, the act being something so intimate, so damn personal, you refrain yourself. Killing humans, picking a next victim to fed on, is considered now a treat you don't appreciate from your kind, making you steal from hospitals and any kind of blood bank before Charles offered you help. You haven't fed from a mutant, cause you avoided everyone equally, but you don't want to be rude about it. “You all smell different, but i’d be lying. Maybe yes, i’d be picky about it too, feeding is something intimate.”

It's an undeniable admission, and now that he's trying to be in your position, he would also be picky about someone's blood. Logan remains stoic cause he’s suddenly filled by the thought of something else, a glimpse of his own weird creativity he forces himself to push aside, to really suppress now that it's not the time or the moment.

“How do I smell?” It's too late to stop the words from coming out of his mouth when he asks her. And at first, is out of pure curiosity. He has never encountered a vampire in his life until you, let alone had someone talking about the subtle tastes of the blood being undead, so he doesn't want to let the opportunity slip — Of course he wants to know if an over two hundred mutant like himself would be as remotely good as a fresh, clean bag from the hospital.

"You stink like wet dog," he surely deserves it after all the times he’s been calling you a leech — "Like those cigars you tend to smoke, alcohol, and musk. It's similar as wood. That smell you got when you're in a forest and it's not raining but straight pouring."

"Is this a way of telling me i'd taste bad, peach?"

You make a mental note to let him know after you like peach way more than leech.

"If i'd found a human smelling like that, you won't be hearing from me anytime soon" you're just messing with him. A playful banter you enjoy more than ever, the distraction you needed to think in something else rather than the blood bags you craved so deeply — "Hell, i've would just walked the other way."

"So i'm taking you won't be feeding from me anytime soon."

It all takes a dark turn there. You're very aware of the tension the last month now that you talk to him in daily basis, but it’s just mere tension, nothing that ever goes beyond the limit. Logan has never said something to flirt with you despite the million chances he got, and he always remained like a friend, one that you enjoy spending time with now. Cannot be blamed when you're taken aback.

“Cat got your tongue, kiddo?” Man. You're about to whine about the name before you remember he is indeed, older than you are. Vampire or mutant.

"You want me to feed from you?"

He seems so willing when you ask. Even when you teased about his smell calling him a wet dog. He just seems so eager to let you just do it, try a mutant for the first time.

"Yeah," he dismisses it like it's not something so deep — "I doubt Charles is going to let you take a bite since you could clearly kill him, and I'm not sure the others would be pleased with the idea of you sinking your teeth in them, so yes. Me, leech."

Logan Howlett doesn't really smell bad. And you don't know why cause he has all the ingredients to fucking stink, yet, you'd call him interesting. That's what you thought when you find his pulse point again, the vein in his neck you looked earlier in the morning, thinking just as the same you were thinking now.

Of course you would feed from him. Is it a good thing to do? No, in any other circumstances you'd decline. He's your friend.

Now? You’re having a hard time.

"So I'm guessing that you're pleased with the idea, then," Real talk?, you just want to hear him say it. He doesn't talk much usually, but now that he's very vocal about what's on his mind, you have to take advantage of it—. "I'm not sure either. But I do think Storm may be interested too."

He seems content with the response, taking a long sip from his beer before adding — "Please, go and ask her so you're less annoying."

You're almost completely sure he doesn't find you annoying. You also don't care about Storm. And maybe he knows you're not going anywhere, that you're not moving.

"You really want me to bite you?"

"I dunno now, princess" he looks at you pleased now cause he got you where he wanted to, cause he managed to awake all the interest now that you're looking at him "Are you going to pull a Dracula on me?"

"No, i'm not going to suck you dry if that's what you're asking."

Logan chuckles. He's a damn masochist. It's been like that as long as he can remember. It may have to be with his healing powers cause he likes it more than usual, but the idea gets to his head soon enough, all falling so damn fast: Your breathing would be against his neck and he'd take the bite like a damn champ.

"Yeah I can handle you," he says, aroused. "You're not gonna hurt me if you take some blood. I'll be fine and you won't be a pain in the ass."

He acts so gruff about it but you hear the sound of his heartbeat already high enough to wake the entire mansion, his labored breathing since he suggested the idea himself. He digs it, strange enough. Thrives on the idea.

He's a grown man already, and he can take a little leech like yourself.

It's clear you're hungry, cause it doesn't take much for you to accept, nodding like you're defeated, like you just lost the war entirely, cause there's no many options here to take and even if it were, you are now interested in have him more than any other blood bag. In fact. To hell with the hospital.

"Okay."

It's a simple answer, and it sure works with him as you get close to him, the bench you always used to sit now seeming so small as you look around confirming you guys really are alone—. "You won't tell anyone?"

It's something stupid to ask, cause after all that time he has never said anything, keeping your secrets as if they were his own, saving you from weird questions people get sometimes as they didn't know much about you. He's clearly not going to say nothing at all.

"Are you going to stop whining for a second and just eat darlin'? Cause I might change my mind here."

He's feeling overload soon after.

You don’t need a formal invitation to lean closer to his neck.

There's no way to describe it also cause he has never seen something like that, never felt a similar sensation more than when he's fucking, the cold touch of your fingers in his chest, taunting the vein in his neck without a previous warning before leaning in even closer than before—. "Stay still" you demand, face close against his bare skin, only one goal in mind. "Don't move for a minute. Just-"

You cannot finish the sentence, and Logan can experience the sporadic pain of the bite first hand when your teeth finally sink in his neck, piercing the flesh so easily as you let the blood fill your mouth. He grunts at the sharp pain, his face contracting momentarily before it's replaced by a nice wave of pleasure, one that hits him right in the guts as he grabs you by the nape of your neck, pushing you against him, almost demanding you to be closer, to keep on taking what you want, what you've been craving for two weeks.

When did he turned into this perverted sick? Getting off by something so primal as the fact you're feasting on him.

The feeling of your lips and the clear suck you gave when feeding are sending him into a spiral, and to be honest, he didn't expect to be so devastated by you, by the way your fingers stay against his chest to prevent him from moving, pinning the mutant between the wood bench and yourself so he won’t move, won’t do anything unless you want him to,pressing on the wound to draw more blood out.

"You heal so damn fast," you complain, looking at the traces of your bite with an unpleased face as they disappeared on his skin as fast as you created them.

"Then bite me again. I don't care."

You chuckle before leaning once again, and you can feel how the air grows hotter than how it was usually, the shift on his breathing as you bite him again, pressing on the wounds once again just to suck.

And you’re hungry, it’s the whole deal. His taste differs from what you believe at first, a huge change from what humans taste like, from what you’re used to deal with in hospitals. There’s a subtle taste of alcohol yes, but it mixes good with the sweet taste of honey, the weird taste you cannot put into words. It must be a mutant thing for sure cause it’s thicker than usual, a mix of flavors that explode in your tongue.

The headache you suffered from the whole week seems to dissapear as you drink in, feeding the monster you responded to in your stomach, demanding you to make him bleed more, to satisfy yourself until you can’t have any more.

Logan, on the other hand, is really fighting against his very own war.

You’re already close enough, but he just wants you damn closer, as much as he possibly can. It’s clear that well, it hurts slightly, but he has endured much worse, means nothing when it’s the pleasure that comes with it who strikes on his body, the light sucking, the idea you’re full of his blood, that you are not on trouble as you were before thanks to him. All because of him.

He's not used to acts on his impulses, but he does it anyway.

"C'mere" he says in a strangled voice, Logan's having no trouble moving you around, grabbing you by the hips to make you straddle him, keeping you glued to his neck as he doesn't want to disturb you—. "You really are a pretty leech, huh?”

You hum against his skin, pleased at the contact, and when he realizes you’re not complaining about his actions, he let his fingers grip your tights, keeping you against him.

You can hear him making this sound, quite like a moan but not exactly when you’re licking the holes you left in his skin, he does heal fast and don’t need any of your help when you’re done, but you coat his skin with your saliva anyway just to speed up the process, cause you want to do it, looking down to him after to check if he’s pale or nearly dead. You never really know.

And Logan himself is just fine cause his fingers gather the blood under your lip when he takes the sight of you sitting in his lap as the pearly white rays of moonlight makes your skin shine, and he pushes them inside your mouth so you don't waste any drop of what it can be considered food.

"So what's the final verdict?" he asks as his hands are now grabbing your tights, there's something so intimate about the moment, so personal, hot as he presses his fingers against the flesh of your muscles, he understand what you said before—. "Do I taste like utter shit?"

"Well, i’d need another taste to have my final decision" he laughs, and he don't really laugh often so the unexpected sound sends a shiver down your spine now that you’ve heard the sound quite a while now—. "Not much, just a little."

“Have you fill then, peach” He encourages you. “I want you full so you don’t whine the rest of the week.”

You don’t have any heartbeat, but if you did, it would be ragging in your ears at his words. At the warmth he’s spreading like a disease on her body that, despite being dead and cold, you can feel more than ever.

“I like peach,” you admit, this time pressing a soft kiss before directly hurt him—. “Leech is annoying.”

He’s going to say something, tease you about it maybe but he’s interrupted by the nice feeling of what he considers are your fangs tearing his skin apart, familiarity hitting him all sudden as he moans, a rough sound that comes from the deep of his throat, hands coming down to squeeze your ass, making you gasp against his neck when you experience the aching need physically forming in his pants.

“Still,” you say, concentrated on not allowing the wounds to close. But at the lack of complaints on what he's doing, Logan’s hands kept wandering around, making you move against his now clearly stiffed cock—. “Fuck’s sake I said still.”

“Stop being a damn brat. You can eat while I move you,” he grunts annoyed, shoving you against him, the friction of his jeans against the thin fabric of your shorts is enough to keep you quiet: Feeding from a stranger and feeding from a person you’re attracted to are two different things, especially in the position you find yourself in. “You don’t have to do anything. Quit whining about it.”

In response, your fingers press against the wound, not caring if it hurts or if it bothers him, but just enough to get him to bleed more and prevent the cut from closing, lapping at the blood that gathered over his collarbone, staining his white tank before you could even avoid it.

Your fingers grab the fabric just to pull it slightly down so it won't bother you, and the deep sound his chest make when he mocks about your desperation is stuck on your brain for the next couple of minutes, indulging in his taste, shutting up the rest of the world.

A moan comes out of your lips, muffling it against his skin. You're too zoomed out to hear it, but he's on a hell of a ride too, moaning as he demands more. It's been a while since the last time you did something like that, combine the pleasure of something as primal as eating with a mundane activity like sex, so you kind of forgot how good it felt, blaming yourself from depriving from something so needed.

"Do you always get this turned on when someone bites you?"

"No" Logan answers as you finish. He's rock hard beneath you, and he lets you know it when he's controlling the movement of your hips, working you against him at a slow pace—. "See, the woman i'm trying to seduce don't usually bite me, nor make me their main dinner plate."

You whine at the friction.

He looks down to the cause of all his damn problems just to notice his pants being damped with nothing but a physical form of need, soothing the uncomfortable fabric of his blue jeans — "So wet for me already, you’re making a damn mess, do you always get this turned on when feeding?"

Cheeky bastard.

He's using your own words against you, and you cannot be less bothered as you laugh softly, licking your lips only cause you know there's dried blood in them, drowned in his smell, the honey taste that lingered in your mouth.

“No, I don’t.”

At the sight, Logan's hand grabs your jaw in a rough movement, making you look at him before making you kiss him, deepening the contact as fast as you give him the chance. His tongue is soon invading your bucal cavity as he takes control of it, slow, intense and needy, as if he was holding on so much time before giving in to his own desires.

It is something like that.

You don't need to breathe in daily basis, but there's a burning sensation in your chest of wanting, of infinite lust you've been also experiencing by yourself.

The old mutant can taste his own blood in your mouth, a metallic taste as he keeps on kissing you until your lips are pink and puffed. He has thought so much about it that now that he has the opportunity, he devours as if he's a starved man having his first meal in what seems are ages.

"You didn't tell me if I tasted bad."

You think about it for a second.

"I'm afraid you're a rare breed cause it doesn't make any sense" You don't need any help now moving, cause you're rolling your hips on top of him at your own pace, allowing him to use his hands for something else—. “You have all the ingredients to taste like shit, but it's nothing but the contrary, even better than the fucking blood bags.”

“Sounds like your going to make me your meal plan, darlin. I’m here offering you a hand and you just take everything,” — “Such a greedy little vampire.”

He doesn't seem to care though, same as before he's nothing but willing to let you take everything as much as he tries to bark about it. He's more worried about his hands now that they're sliding down your oversized shirt, tracing patterns over your stomach, his touch so hot against your usually cold temperature.

"Logan," you whine,— "Someone can see us out here."

"Now you care about that?" his hazel eyes are a shade darker when he speaks. "After you're nice and full of my blood?"

His hands are big enough to take your whole cunt, allowing his digits to roam over the fabric of your underwear, almost thanking you for using those loosened pajama shorts he has seen before that very night as he just takes the fabric and pull it to the side.

"Nobody is going to see us. It's late and everyone's sleeping, leech" he teases you, and you cannot bring yourself to care about the nickname at the feeling of his hand taunting you from over the fabric—. "If you can bite me here outside, you might as well take my cock here too."

You cannot battle against that. You're deep in whatever spell he puts you into, giving in to the attraction and the tension that now needs to be taken care of. Logan's fingers touch you in nothing but experience, cause he knows how to please after so much time alive, how much pressure he needs to apply to leave you plain dumb, pliable for him.

"D'you think I need to stretch you out before fucking you?" he asks against your neck after leaving a reasonable-sized hickey in the zone, he likes the idea of people finding out about what you've been doing with him the next morning. "Or you're a big girl and can take me all by yourself?"

He'd like to take your time with you. Thoroughly enjoy you as much as he wants to, let everyone know you're his now, that you're shuddering thanks to him only, but he's too needy for that, too deprived of you to take his time.

"I want you to use that pretty mouth of yours and talk to me," he demands, coming up to look at your face while torturing you, his index and middle finger rubbing your clit from over the underwear—. "I'm not properly touching you yet and you're losing it already, peach. C'mon, you can talk to me still."

"I can take you," you say in a strangled voice. "Please Logan, please."

It's the plea of your tone that gets him, the soft begging of an ache he can only soothe, your face while you ask for more, not aware of anything else but him.

"Please what?"

"Please just fuck me already," you ask in frustration—. "I just need you to fill me up for a damn while."

You are starting to love the sound of his laugh. The deep sound he makes when he’s really enjoying something, his voice in damn general.

"Be a good little vampire" He says in a gentle tone. Logan’s trying to be kind even when his touch is so rough. "Unbuckle my pants and take my cock out. My hands are busy now, and you can do it yourself."

He is busy indeed. Toying with your underwear being the only thing that’s keeping him from the direct contact, pushing the fabric against your hole as it works as a barrier, preventing his digits to fuck you as he’d like to. He’s busy keeping you in place, preventing you from downright melt as your hands came up to unbuckle his belt first, the sound of the metal as it moves filling the air for a couple of seconds before you put all your attention in the button of his jeans, the zipper coming down with the force you’re using.

“Yeah baby,” he praises—. “You’re doing so good, keep going.”

When you pull the fabric of his briefs down, he’s already leaking for you, pink head, slightly curved to the side, moaning, erratically how much he needs your hands on him, how you're wet and ready for his cock. You close your fist around him, stroking slowly as your hips lift up enough to position yourself on top of him.

He’s big. Damn fucking right he is, you’d expected it from before cause sometimes you swear you can see his full length in his jeans, but taking him in your hand is a struggle but itself.

“Are you going to take me yourself or do you need my help? I know you can.”

Despite his words, he does help. Grabbing the black fabric of your underwear to finally make it to the side, the tip of his dick pushing against your clit before he's the one to place it in your leaky hole, forcing himself slowly, giving you time to take him in, inch by inch.

“Good girl," he says, head rolling backwards for a brief moment as he experiences the warm sensation of your walls surrounding him, clenching against his cock as he keeps one hand on your hip, helping you as you lower yourself over him. "Let me look at you.”

His fingers grab your jaw, squeezing you as he makes you look back at him, pushing you once again as you holded a loud moan. He's stretching you at his need.

"One more time," he begs. "One more time and you got it, peach. You're almost there."

Jesus fuck. You can feel yourself getting dizzy. You've drank a lot of blood and you're now overwhelmed by this intense pleasure that formed in your lower stomach, gathering there and waiting for the perfect moment to explode—. "Fuck I-"

Logan's pampering you with kisses as a mere distraction, his lips travelling through your neck to your collarbone before you're finally seated on top of him, a muffled moan you need to shut filling the calm of the night.

"Fuck you're tight," he exhales, and he's lost in the sensation, the way your velvety walls welcome him inside. He stays still for a moment, giving you time to adjust, to make you the one who starts moving on top of him.

You can see his veins popping up. All over his chest and coming down to his shoulders and his arms, and god gracious — He smells so fucking good you’re tempted to ask if you can have a bite again.

The moment feels longer than usual, the seconds pass slowly as you stay there. Logan’s hands are just touching your skin from under your oversized t-shirt, taking in the low moans you gave him, the almost perceptible whispers as you get used to him, to his size.

He likes the intimacy of it, the bliss. Man you look so pretty in his lap when the light of the moon is stripping you all to his eyes, even if you’re fully dressed an he’s seated in a damn bench, he cannot enjoy it more, pulling you in for a needy kiss, one that is rougher than the first one and leads you to move inevitably.

His cock pushes past that nice spot inside, and the friction is enough to make you move again, rocking your hips at a slow pace for a few seconds. The sound of your moans is silenced by his demanding kisses, and now that he knows you can handle him, his grip on your hips turn more firm now, squeezing the skin there so he can control your speed, the rythm of your movements now faster than before.

“Shh, don’t whine” what he lacks of vocal usually, he pours it all in just fucking, talking you through it when he feels you’re being too loud—. “Do you want to wake the others? We can’t have them seeing you like this, all fed up and cock-drunk.”

“Let me bite you again,” you ask soon enough. And it takes a lot to do it, cause you’re doing it out of pure greed, cause you can’t have enough.

“Take whatever you want, leech, just don’t make me faint” he jokes, his panted breathing betraying him as he moans, incredibly interested in the idea—. “Want to be conscious when you cum all over my dick.”

Logan’s sure your eyes glisten in a red color as you lean over his neck. And this time is less affectionate, much less gentle as you finally bite him again, teeth piercing the flesh so easily his hips jolts against you in response of the sharp pain your fangs create, the warm sensation of his blood in contrast of your cold touch, tongue-licking all you get from him.

And fuck it feels good.

He shrudders beneath you, shaking his head just slightly at reflex of pain before continue working his way with you, placing his hand between your tights as he lets his fingers rub on your sensitive clit, just enough to make you bite on his neck harder, the lewd sounds of your cunt taking him between holded moans as you suck on his neck.

“That’s it taking me so good,” He praises — “You like that, princess? Like how you’re full of me?”

You hum against his skin. The blood coates your chin as it goes down through his chest, staining his white tank for a couple of seconds before the holes your teeth made finally closes on their own.

It’s pure ecstasy. He can feel it when you clenching around his cock, cheeks red from his blood going now through your system, his vitality, his energy.

You can feel him fucking everywhere. So when you kiss him it’s all teeth, bite and his blood.

The pleasure’s taking control of you now, and Logan’s dizzy from the blood loss, his body covered now in sweat as his words slur together, not threading any coherent thought.

“That’s it,” he says, making you bounce of his cock. “Gonna’ have you in my room then, all spread out f’me.”

His hand wrap around your neck tightly, keeping the direct contact as he chokes you. Shit. You don’t need to say a word. Logan already got you.

“James-” he’s too deep to question why you’re using that name with him. How you facade is crushing down now as you let go.

When your body trembles on top of him he’s already cumming too, the squeeze on his cock sufficent to fuck him up personally, his bruising grip on your hips shoving you as deep as he possibly can as his release hits him like a brick falling from the damn sky.

He lets you work for it, ride each second of your high, milk him dry as a white circle of his own cum mixed with your juices coated the base of his cock, his underwear now slick with your orgasm.

He’s struggling to breathe, to properly say something as you’re finally coming down from your peak, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

“Did you called me James?” he questions, and you’re a damn bad liar, cause he knows imediately you’re hidding something cause of the look on your face—. “Do we know each other? From before.”

You don’t know how to respond at first, at least, cause you cannot lie in a position like that now.

“Well uh. It’s quite a long story here.”

Before you can continue he gets up, making you wrap your legs around his hips before stsrting to walk to the mansion.

“Logan-” you say in a strangled moan yourself, still sensitive as he’s balls-deep inside you.

“It will be less than two minutes, leech” he responds gruffily,— “Need to get you into my room so I can enjoy you the rest of the night, and you can tell me all of it.”

He don’t care if he’s bloody or a damn mess as he squeezes your ass climbing up the stairs, much less if anyone see the two of you in that state.

“I want to hear all the details, Cause I have a weird feeling that this has happened before.”

You cannot find a reasonable excuse to say no as the man’s already reaching the second floor.

Logan’s fucked after that night. When he learned about all that you were before, weirdly connected to you through the decades.

It must be the bite isn’t? Shit. He’s more in sync than ever now that you’ve been feeding from him a lot the last few weeks.

Ah. You fucking leech.

my masterlist

[literally-izzy]

Just Friends?

summary: you’re in love with your best friend who doesn’t feel the same way. right?

Modern AU!Anakin Skywalker and Fem!reader

A/n: ah! this is my first time writing a fic and i might’ve gotten carried away… there’s also original names. not all of the names are star wars related. please feel free to reblog! it would mean a lot!

cw: smut; unprotected piv, pet names, car accident..

Love. It’s a funny thing. I’ll never understand it. I only know that when it hits you, it hits you hard. Here I am, 25 and still pining over a man who doesn’t want me. You would think that after ten years I would forget about him and move on. It’s hard when he’s your best friend. Anakin Skywalker. I met him my sophomore year, his freshman year. Our moms worked together and became best friends. It was only inevitable that we would too. Every weekend was a movie night at the Skywalker house. Filled with love and laughter. The only times I hated it was when an unwanted visitor came. But I denied the real reason I disliked her.

I told myself it was just because she was too quiet. Not outgoing. Definitely not because she was dating him…. I hated the way he held her in his arms. I eventually began to realize it was because I wished it was me. Any moment I had alone with him was bliss. She didn’t go to our school. They met at summer camp the year before we became friends. So, school, especially choir was a safe place to be with him. He made me laugh like no other. And never changed the way he acted around me when his friends were around.

Now here I am, teaching a class of annoying seventh graders how to sing. Anakin is still in med school. I always admired him for it. He never thought he was smart enough for it. It took my encouragement. We still keep tradition and every Friday night; I go over to his apartment for movie night. When he graduated, he and his girlfriend, Padme, split up. So, for the past 6 years, I’ve never really had to worry about anyone else. He only had a few short relationships throughout the past six years since he graduated. Occasionally his sister joins us for movie night, that’s when we have to watch cheesy hallmark movies. Not that I hate all of them, but I dislike most of them.

I looked down at my desk and saw a text on my phone.

“Just you and me for movie night. Up for Fast and Furious?”

I smiled at the text. My students were currently working on their assignment, so I replied,

“That’s a stupid question, Anakin”. I put my phone down and I sat my chair.

He texted back almost immediately, “so I take that as a yes, y/n?”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s a yes. I’d love to talk more but I have a class to teach. Love ya”

“I’ll say a prayer for those students lol. Love ya.”

I smiled at the last sentence. We’ve been inseparable for ten years. Of course, we love each other. Mine just goes deeper than his. I’ve thought multiple times about telling him. But I just couldn’t. He’s always with someone new when I finally muster up the courage to tell him. And its not like I’ve stayed single. I’m actually with someone right now. He’s amazing in every way. He’s just not Anakin. I looked down at my phone again and realized I had a text from him.

“Hey babe, I’m gong out of town to see my parents for the weekend. I know you’re going to Anakin’s apartment for movie night, so I figured i’d tell you now”.

I feel like such a bitch. At least he’s not jealous of Anakin. My last relationship ended because I refused to stop seeing him.

I texted back, “okay, have fun!” I know I should’ve said more, but I really didn’t care. I saw another text from him but before I could answer it, the bell rang.

“Okay class, that’s homework if you didn’t finish it. Have a great weekend!” All the kids quickly piled out of my classroom. Once I was alone, I read the text from Trey.

“Okay. I will. Be safe on your drive up there.”

“I will.” I replied. I got my things together and walked out to my car. Once I got in, I connected my phone and started blasting love songs. I’m a hopeless romantic. I started driving.

He lives in the main part of Coruscant. Which is about 45 minutes away from where I live. I spent the drive belting love songs, consciously daydreaming about the life I could have with Anakin.

Once I pull into his driveway, he’s already outside waiting for me.

“Jeez, y/n, took you long enough” he smirks.

“Fuck off, Anakin” I laugh and flip him off. I walk closer to him and give him a hug. It only lasted a couple of seconds, but it felt like hours. His muscular arms wrap around me tightly and contract as we breathe in sync. He smelled like the woods behind his house, where we used to explore. His curly dirty blonde hair that shaped his face brushed against my cheek as he finally pulled away. He stood aside, gesturing for me to enter his apartment.

“Wow, you cleaned!” I teased him as I took off my shoes and sat on his black leather couch.

“Yeah, but not for you. It is my bachelor pad after all” he smirked as he sat down beside me.

“Of course,” I said with an eye roll. I tried not to sound annoyed, but I know I did. Part of my annoyance isn’t even because I want him to myself. Some of it is because he’s not as careful as he should be. He just whores around because his good looks and charm let him. One day, he’s gonna end up being a baby daddy to at least three women. And I know i’d still be around to help him. Always being his best friend. Never the love of his life.

“Pizza should be here soon” Anakin interrupted my thoughts.

“Okay great” I give him a warm smile as he sits down beside me. He pulls out his phone and starts to text someone. I know I should give him his privacy, but I’m a nosey bitch. I discreetly shift my head and side my eyes towards his phone. He’s texting a girl named Aayla. From what I could see, they’ve obviously been hooking up.

“Who’s that?” I asked, letting my jealousy get the better of me. He looks up and smirks.

“Just a girl I’ve been seeing occasionally. Why? You jealous?” He teased. I knew he was teasing but I couldn’t stop my face from turning bright red. Every normal word went out the window. I couldn’t speak. Finally, I shook myself out of it and responded nonchalantly.

“Hell no. I don’t need whatever diseases you’ve contracted from your escapades” I teased. He laughed and playfully rolled his eyes. He put his phone face down on his lap and shifted his body to face me. His black ‘KISS’ tee shirt tightened around his body, outlining his stunning six-pack.

“So, how’s everything with Trey?” His face was calm. His lips pressed into a peaceful smile.

“Everything’s great. We just came up on 4 months together.” I couldn’t think of anything interesting to tell him. As bad as it sounds, my relationship with Trey is vanilla. Nothing daring or exciting.

“Can I ask you something?” He raised his eyebrows slightly.

“Of course,” I smiled.

He paused, thinking of what to say next. “So, I’ve only seen him a few times, but he looks awfully boring. Is he any good in bed?”

My jaw dropped. I started laughing a little. “I guess so. He’s only the second guy I’ve been with. I don’t have much to compare him to”.

“Wait, really?” He looked astonished.

I immediately started blushing. I felt embarrassed. “Um, yeah…”

“How come you never told me?” He looked genuinely hurt that I didn’t tell him I’ve only slept with two men.

“I don’t know. We’ve never really gone into detail about our sex lives”

“Yeah, but I mean, I told you when I lost my virginity at least. You didn’t even tell me that.” He sounded so hurt. And I could see where this was coming from. Besides this one topic, I tell him everything. He looked down at my hands that were fidgeting in my lap. All of a sudden, he grabs them. His big strong hands gripping my smaller ones, with a look of compassion on his face. “y/n, please don’t feel like you have to keep things from me. I’m your best friend. I would never judge you”.

How was I not supposed to melt. I nodded and swallowed, keeping my hands in his. “I lost my virginity when I was nineteen. In college. I was with Maul. I was embarrassed to say anything because you lost yours before me and I felt, different, I guess. After we split, I was scared to do it with anyone else. I’ve only recently slept with Trey.”

Just as he was about to speak, the doorbell rang. We knew it was the pizza, so he went up to get it. Once he got it, he walked into the kitchen. It only took a couple of minutes before he came back in with two plates of pizza. He set the plates down, walked back into the kitchen, and came back with two bottles of ‘Mikes hard lemonade’. He then sat beside me, turning on ‘Fast and Furious’.

We had gotten through the first three movies before I started to get sleepy. I tried to stay awake for another movie, but I couldn’t. We had talked about various things. Work, school, family, etc.

“I’m sorry, but I better leave. I’m starting to fall asleep.” I yawned tiredly.

His eyes widened. Then he started to look sad. “Wait, why don’t you just stay the weekend? I know you keep clothes in your car, and you said Trey would be at his parents’ house all weekend.”

I smiled. But then I started overthinking. What if I annoy him too much? We’ve never spent a whole weekend together without breaks. Or what if he wants to bring a girl over? I’d just get in the way. “Are you sure? What if you want to put your bachelor pad to use?” I slightly teased. Only slightly because part of me was serious.

He smirked, “Do you really think girls are over here every weekend?”

“From the way you talk about them, yes.”

He started laughing. “No, y/n. I’m really not that big of a man whore.”

I looked down at my hands, “Oh. Well, what about that Aayla girl?”

“Not important. We aren’t exclusive. She’s just something fun. There’s no relationship there. If there was, I would’ve told you, y/n.” He said seriously.

“Okay. I’ll stay. I don’t have pajamas in my car though.”

He smiled, knowing he had won. “I have a shirt and sweats you can wear.”

“Okay. Do you have a pillow for the couch?” I asked with a soft smile on my face.

“Yes. But not for you. You can have my bed. And that’s non-negotiable.”

I rolled my eyes as I stood up. I was too tired to fight. He motioned for me to follow him into his room. I’d only been in there once, and that was when he moved into the apartment. As we walked in, I was hit with the refreshing smell of his light cologne. His bed was in the corner, facing the door when you walk in. Across from his queen-sized bed was a tall, dark wood dresser. He walked over to the dresser and pulled out a gray shirt and black sweatpants.

“Here, they might be a bit big, but you’ll just be sleeping in them.”

“Thank you” I smiled. He set the clothes on his bed before walking closer to me. Once he was close enough, he wrapped his strong arms around me. I hugged him back, breathing in his scent. His head rested on my dirty blonde curls.

“Goodnight, y/n”, he breathed out before pulling away. I sighed and smiled.

“Night, Ani”. With that, he smiled and walked out, shutting his door. I began to remove my clothes and replaced them with his. I was immediately engulfed in his natural woodsy scent. I then crawled into his bed. It was very soft, like laying on a cloud. His black sheets smelled like him. I laid there and started thinking about the future I could have if I just grow a pair and tell him. Eventually, I closed my eyes and drifted off, wishing he was laying beside me.

While I was sleeping, I felt something on my hair. I decided to ignore it. But I can't help but hope it was him. But I won't bring It up.

♡

I woke up to the sound of sizzling. I sat up and admired the way the sun shined on my body through the window above the bed. I tossed my legs over the side of the bed and walked out to the kitchen. I was hit with the smell of bacon, my favorite. I walked further in to see Anakin humming and cooking. He was so focused on breakfast; he didn’t even notice I was awake. So, I started to sing the words of the song he was humming. He quickly turned around with a huge grin on his face. His robe was open, exposing his bare chest. His body was God-like.

“You have such a beautiful voice, y/n/n” he complimented me. Sure, he knew I could sing, but this felt different. I blushed a little before responding.

“Thank you, Ani”. I smiled.

“Did you sleep well?” He asked with his eyebrows slightly raised.

“Yes, I did. Your bed is very comfy” I smiled.

He let out a small chuckle. “I know. So, I deserve a big thank you for letting you sleep in it for this weekend”

I rolled my eyes. “Thank you for letting me sleep in your incredibly comfy bed.”

“You’re welcome.” He turned back around to get our plates ready. Once he was done, he took them to the table and sat down waiting for me. We sat there and ate the eggs and bacon he had made. Then I remembered something.

“Last night, what were you going to say before the pizza got delivered?”

He looked down. He was thinking. “Well, I guess I was just surprised, I guess. It’s hard to believe you’ve only slept with two men.” I looked into his eyes and knitted my eyebrows.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, c’mon y/n/n. Just because we’re best friends, doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate how beautiful you are.” I choked on my water. I coughed for a few minutes before responding.

“Oh. Really?”

He smiled and laughed lightly. “Yes. Really.” I could’ve died right there. Why couldn’t he be mine?

Once we finished eating, I walked into his living room and sat on the couch. I got on my phone to check any missed calls or notifications I might’ve had. All I had was a text from Trey.

“Good morning, beautiful. Missed waking up next to you this morning” I didn’t. I wished it was Anakin.

“Why is he so cheesy?” I heard Anakin ask from beside me. I can’t blame him for being nosey, considering I did the same thing last night.

“I don’t know. It’s not my favorite if I’m being honest” I said with a slight grimace. He laughed before focusing back on his phone. I looked back down at the text and decided to respond.

“Good morning! Don’t miss me too much. Enjoy your time with your parents”. I rolled my eyes as I pressed send. I started scrolling on instagram. I stopped when I saw an engagement post an old friend from High school made. An instant feeling of jealousy and heartbreak came over me. I heard Anakin sigh as he started to speak.

“Oh yeah, I saw that.” He spoke as if it made no difference. It probably doesn’t to him. But to me, I feel behind. I thought I still had time to start all of that. Is 25 too old? He started to speak again when I didn’t say anything. “Hey, what’s wrong?” His voice was soft, like velvet

“Am I wasting my life?” I looked up with tears begging to be released from my eyes.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He knitted his eyebrows together.

“I though I still had time before starting a family. I thought 25 was still young. But now, Casey is getting married.” I sniffled. The tears finally leaving my eyes. Without saying anything, Anakin pulled me into a hug. Once again, his woodsy smell engulfed my senses and I felt calm. My face was pressed against his bare chest, since he still hadn’t changed. He gently rubbed my back with his hand. After a few minutes, I pulled away to save myself from falling for him even more, if that was possible. He began to speak.

“I don’t think there’s a time limit. You start it when you’re ready.” He smiled softly.

“When did you get so smart?” I teased. He scoffed and playfully put his hand to his chest.

“I am deeply offended y/n.” I pushed him and we started laughing. He paused. “Hey, I have an idea”

“What?”

“Let’s go see my parents. It’ll give us something to do.” He shrugged. I smiled. I hadn’t seen them in a while.

“I love that idea. I just have to get my clothes out of my car and change” I stood up and did just that. I walked back in with my book bag and went into his room and changed. I walked out with my slightly ripped jeans and my favorite ‘Nirvana’ tee-shirt. Anakin smiled and walked into the room to change while I waited. He walked back out in black jeans and a plain gray shirt. Even in the plainest clothes he was ethereal. I grabbed my phone and his as we walked out the door.

•

On the drive to his parents’ house, we blasted our favorite songs. We belted our hearts out, laughed at the stupid shit he said. My heart fluttered every time he looked at me. The way he says my name. After 20 minutes, we pulled into his parents' driveway. We got out and he rang the doorbell. Their house was white and older. There was a wooded area in their backyard where Anakin, his sister Ashoka, and I would explore and mess around.

When I moved closer to my job, I was sad to be so far away. But when Anakin moved to Coruscant to go to college and Coruscant Medical School, I was elated. We were now only 45 minutes apart instead of an hour. I hadn’t been home in 6 months. My parents haven’t even met Trey. Which is intentional.

After a few seconds, his mom Shmi, opened the door and a huge grin appeared on her face. She then gasped.

“Oh! y/n!! It’s so good to see you!” She pulled me into a tight comforting hug. Anakin rolled his eyes.

“Nice to see you too mom” he teased. I pulled away and smiled. She walked forward and pulled Anakin into a hug as well. Just then, his Step dad, Cliegg, came out and gave me a side hug before hugging Anakin. Shmi finally spoke up.

“Well, come on in! I just made some chili if you’re hungry”. I walked into their house and was hit with the smell of her infamous chili. My mouth immediately started watering. I proceeded to the kitchen and didn’t waste and time on grabbing a bowl. Anakin soon entered behind me and did the same.

Once our bowls were filled, we went into the dining room and sat at the table. His parents joined us, and we began to make some small talk. Shmi smiled and began to speak.

“So, are either of you seeing anyone?” Before I could say anything, Anakin spoke up.

“Well, y/n has a boyfriend. But I’m not seeing anyone right now.” I smiled awkwardly, knowing Shmi would tell my mother. Shmi’s face looked almost sad, as if she wanted me to be single or him to not be.

“Oh, that’s wonderful! What’s his name?” She asked brightly. I looked up from the table and smiled.

“His name is Trey” I said quietly.

“Is that short for anything?” Cliegg spoke up.

“His name is Daniel Jones the third. Because he’s the third, he goes by Trey.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” Anakin said almost offended.

“Well, you never asked” I replied. The rest of lunch went well. After a few more hours, we decided to head back home. We hugged his parents goodbye and got back into Anakin’s truck. Once we started driving, Anakin cleared his throat and started to speak.

“Are you mad at me?” He said as if he would start crying if I said yes.

“What? No. Why would I be mad at you?” I asked genuinely.

“I don’t know. You’ve just been distant recently, I guess.” He shrugged, keeping his beautiful blue eyes on the road.

“I’m not trying to be. You’re my best friend, I would never try to distance myself from you.” I sighed. He was right. But I’m only trying to save myself from utter heartbreak.

“Okay. I believe you.” And with that, we stayed silent the rest of the ride home. The only time we spoke was when we stopped at a drive-thru to get food. We ate in the car. Still staying silent. Once we pulled into his driveway, I got out and went straight to his room to change.

In had just finished changing, when Anakin walked in. He just stood there. He didn’t say anything. I spoke up.

“Is everything go-” I was cut short by Anakin when he pressed his lips onto mine. I didn’t even have time to react before he pulled away. His eyes widened.

“I- I’m sorry.” With that, he walked out of his room and shut the door. I wanted to follow him, but I could tell he needed to be alone. I sat on the end of the bed and ran my hands through my hair. I looked down and spoke quietly.

“What the fuck just happened?” I crawled onto the bed and laid down. Did he mean to? Was he fucking with me? Did he want me as much as I want him? No. He couldn’t. It’s been too long for him not to have said anything. I curled into a ball and fell asleep thinking about what just happened.

The next morning, I woke up ready to talk to Anakin. I changed into leggings and a plain blue shirt. When I walked out, I didn’t see him anywhere. I checked every room until I saw a note on his fridge.

“I went for a drive. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I’m so sorry. I’ll see you next weekend, I hope. - Anakin. I wasn’t angry at him for leaving, surprisingly. I understood. I walked back into his room, grabbed my stuff and left. As I drove back to my apartment, I couldn’t help but start to cry. I cried because I was hurt, confused, frustrated, in love.

When I pulled into the driveway, I sat in my car and cried some more. Eventually, I got out and walked into my apartment complex. I got in the elevator and kept my eyes on the floor so no one could see me cry. When the elevator rang, I walked out and ran down the hallway to get to my door.

I walked in and ran into my room. I crawled into my bed and cried. He kissed me and he regrets it. I was stupid to think that maybe we could be something. I fell asleep with tears still running down my cheeks.

After what was probably a few hours, I heard loud knocking on my door. I got up and opened it. Trey.

“Hey gorgeous” he smiled.

“Hi.” I said quietly. I stood to the side allowing him to come in. I couldn’t stop sniffling, so he turned around with a concerned look.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?” He said softly.

“I just don’t feel good” I lied. I couldn’t tell him that my best friend kissed me, said sorry, then left and I wished he wasn’t sorry. Trey walked over to the couch and sat down. He gestured for me to sit beside him. I did. Once I sat down, he pulled me close to him. I wont lie, Trey is very comforting. He is so sweet and honestly very good looking, but he’s not him. As much as I try to enjoy being with Trey I can't.

I sat there for what felt like another hour, before I got a call. I sat up and answered.

“Hello?” I didn’t recognize the number.

“Hi, this is Coruscant Hospital. Is this y/n y/l/n?” My heart dropped.

“Yes, it is”

“We have Anakin Skywalker here. You were number one on his emergency contact list. He’s in our trauma room right now. He got into a pretty bad accident. I would suggest that you come down and call any other family members”.

I froze. I couldn’t speak. I felt tears running down my cheeks, but I couldn’t make any sound. Finally, I said okay and hung up. I told trey what happened, and I left. I drove as fast as I could without getting pulled over. I sobbed thinking the worst. I called his mom and told her. She immediately tried to calm me down and told me she was on her way.

I pulled into the parking lot and ran in. I told the receptionist his name. She looked him up and told me he was taken into emergency surgery. I sat in the waiting room. His mom eventually came, and I told her. She held me as I cried. We sat in the waiting room for 4 hours. Eventually a doctor came out.

“Are you the family of Anakin Skywalker?”. We both nodded. “He’s out of surgery. He’s in a coma right now. He shouldn’t be asleep for long, but don’t expect him to be awake tonight.”

We nodded. A nurse came and led us to his room. As soon as I saw him, I immediately broke into tears. I pulled a chair up to the side of his bed. I sat down and grabbed his hand. He had a black eye, and his arms were covered in cuts and bruises. He had stitches visible on his chest, before they went under his gown. Shmi grabbed his other hand and gave it a kiss. We sat in silence before she finally spoke.

“He’s so lucky to have you, y/n.” She said softly with a light smile.

“What do you mean?” I asked with utter confusion.

“You bring out the best in him. He trusts you more than anyone. You’d drop anything the moment he asks you to. And you care about him so much. You’ve shed more tears tonight than I think I have in the last 4 years.” She explained.

“Of course, I care about him. He’s my best friend.” She just hummed in response. After an hour or so, another nurse came in.

“Unfortunately, only one of you can stay with him. It’s hospital policy.” I immediately went to stand up when Shmi spoke.

“y/n, stay. You need to. I’ll be back in the morning.” I she said sternly. I didn’t even try to argue with her. She left and I curled up in the chair and slept the best I could.

The next morning, his mom walked in and woke me up. She had brought me some coffee and a breakfast sandwich. We turned on the television and occasionally had a conversation. I barely let go of his hand.

Shmi left to get some lunch. I stayed. I held his hand with my left hand and used my right to caress his face. I whispered softly.

“Please wake up. I need you. I-I love you. Please Ani.” I begged. I couldn’t help but shed a few tears. All I wanted was to hear his voice.

After a bit, Shmi returned, and we talked some more. Once it got late, she left and went back home. I sat there and cried some more. I needed my best friend. I needed my Ani. All of a sudden, I heard a knock on the door.

“Come in” I said calmly. Trey walked in with some food,

“I got you something to eat. Figured I could sit with you for a bit and then take you home.” He spoke.

I sighed. “Thank you for the food, but I’m staying here. I refuse to leave him.”

“Can I ask you something?” He said softly.

“Sure” I said staring at Anakin’s beautiful face.

“If that was me, would you stay all night, not eat and hold my hand?” He spoke softly, but I could tell he was sad and angry. How could I blame him? But I was tired of lying.

“No.” And I said that with full honesty. “He’s my best friend. We’ve been inseparable for ten years. Why would that change now?” I spoke quietly. Not once taking my eyes off of Anakin.

“You love him. Don’t you?” He questioned. I didn’t know what to say.

“Of course. He’s my best frie-”. He cut me off.

“Cut the shit, y/n. You love him. More than a friend. And I won’t stand in the way.” He said solemnly. He walked out and I didn’t say anything. I just kept my red teary eyes on the love of my life. Whether he felt the same or not, it’s true. I kissed his hand. And for the first time in years, I prayed.

I prayed to God that he wakes up. That I get my best friend back. I turned off the television and the lights. I sat there with only the beeping of the machines. I leaned forward, laid my head on the side of his bed and cried.

After a bit, his nurse came to check his vitals. I watched as she did her job. I could tell she was very meticulous, and I was thankful for that. After she left, I felt the urge to cry again. So, I pulled out my phone and called the only other person who comforts me. My mom. The phone rang for a couple of seconds before she answered.

“Hello?” She said calmly.

“Hey mom” I said, my voice cracking.

“Oh, baby. I heard what happened to Anakin. Shmi told me you haven’t left his side in almost two days.”

“How could I mom? He’s my person, my safe haven. I need him. I love him.” I said hesitantly.

“We all know that. We’re positive he does too. We were just wondering how long it would take before you noticed.” She said with a laugh in her voice. She was always good at seeing the positive in everything.

“Damn. We’re dense. I just called you to calm myself down but I’m getting tired so I’m going to try and sleep.” I said in a calm tone.

“Okay, sweetie. Call me if you need me. Bye.” And she hung up. I set my phone down and leaned forward again so I could keep holding his hand.

I laid my head on his arm and drifted off to sleep.

I heard talking. I thought it was just nurses until I heard his voice.

“No, don’t wake her. My mom said she barely slept. I want her to get as much sleep as possible.” It was Anakin. I shot my head up. When I did his beautiful ocean blue eyes were on y/e/c ones. I brought my hand up to cover my mouth as I burst into tears. He smiled and brought his hand up to cup my cheek.

“Never mind.” He let out a soft chuckle.

The nurses all walked out and shut the door leaving us alone. I removed my hand and spoke.

“You’re awake!” I exclaimed.

“Am I?” He teased. “y/n, I’m so sorry about what happe-” I cut him off.

“I love you. So much actually.” I blurted out.

“Wait, really?” He knitted his eyebrows

I nodded. “I love you. More than just a friend. I’ve loved you since the day we met. I’ve loved you through every friend, girl, or fight we’ve ever had. I understand if you don’t feel the same way. I just needed to tell you.”

His face calmed and he smiled. His hand grabbed my shirt and pulled me forward. When we were close enough, he pressed his lips on to mine. We kissed passionately for what felt like hours. When we pulled away, he spoke.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that. I only got girlfriends to distract myself from the fact that I loved you. I thought I finally had a chance until you got with Trey. I’ve tried so hard to contain myself, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want you to leave Friday because I couldn’t handle having to wait another week before I saw you again. And at night I came in and kissed your forehead against my better judgement. y/n, I love you more than any word could express.”

I started crying again. He pulled me close to him. I laid on my side with my head to his chest. And I stayed like that for the next three days until he was discharged.

•

I helped him walk out to my car. Once we got in and I started driving, he put his hand on my thigh. I smiled as I drove us back to his apartment. Once I pulled into his driveway, I got out and helped him get out. We walked into his apartment, and the moment his door was shut, his lips were on mine.

Anakin moved his lips from mine down to my jaw and neck. I let out small moans of pleasure. He moved his hands down and grabbed the hem of my shirt. I raised my arms so he could remove it. Once my shirt was off, we walked into his room. When we got into his room, he began to remove everything except for his boxers. I removed everything but my bra and thong.

“Should we be doing this? You just had surgery 5 days ago” I reminded him.

“Baby, I need exercise to strengthen my heart again. That shard of glass really fucked it up. And what better way to get it working than to do this?” He smirked while he explained. I chose to just nod.

He walked closer to me and caressed every inch of me. He brought his hands around my back and unclipped my bra. I let it slide down my arms as he admired my bare chest.

“You’re so fucking beautiful baby” he grabbed my breasts and began to place kisses on my neck. He pushed me onto his bed and got on top of me. He brought his hands down and removed underwear in one go. I smirked and took my hand and placed it over his boxers, rubbing the impressive bulge. He let out a whimper, which drove me crazy. I pulled down his boxers and widened my eyes. He was huge.

Anakin took his fingers and began to rub my clit. I moaned and threw my head into the pillow. He leaned forward and placed my breast into his mouth.

“That feels so good Ani” I moaned. He began to move his fingers faster around my clit, causing me to squirm. It didn’t take long until he removed his mouth from my nipple and moved his body down.

He spread my legs open, and I felt him sucking on my clit. The feeling was phenomenal. He then started lapping at my pussy like he would die without it. He then took his middle finger and ring finger and began fingering me.

“Oh my god, Anakin. I’m gonna-” I couldn’t even finish my sentence. He let out a dark chuckle before he moved his body up.

I felt the tip of his dick at my entrance. He looked at me and smirked.

“Are you ready baby?” I looked at him and nodded. “Use your words, pretty girl.”

“Fuck, yes I’m ready.” With that, I felt him push his length in me slowly. I threw my head back and moaned loudly. Once I adjusted to his length, he began to thrust into me at a decent pace. He leaned his head down and kissed me deeply while bringing a hand down to rub my clit.

“Ani, go faster” I begged. He began to go faster and felt the knot in my stomach begin to unravel. I let out louder moans until they became incoherent babbles.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good around my cock.” Anakin let out the most glorious whimper I’d ever heard. That was enough to send me into orbit.

“I’m so close” I told him, and he began to thrust faster.

“Fuck baby, me too.” He whined. He kept thrusting faster until I felt my orgasm coming.

“Ani, I’m gonna come.” I moaned. He looked into my eyes and smiled.

“Come with me baby” and with those words I felt my orgasm take over my body as his thrusts began to slow down as he came in me.

“Fuck, y/n” He panted as he pulled out. He bent down and pushed his cum back into my leaking hole, eliciting a moan from my lips.

He got off of me and laid beside me. He then pulled me close to him, so my head was on his chest.

“You have no idea, how long I’ve wanted to do that for.” He confessed and I smiled as I began to trace circles on his chest with my finger.

“Me too” I replied. He leaned his head down and kissed the top of my head.

“I love you, y/n. So much.” He said softly as his hand ran up and down my back.

“I love you too Anakin.” I replied. We laid there, talking. At one point he brought the blanket over us. After a bit, we started to get tired, and it didn’t take long before I fell asleep in his arms. Where I belonged.

[shima-draws]

Okay so a few things about the ending to the DLC. Spoilers below obviously

-Really REALLY disappointed they didn’t go with the whole toxic possession arc thing with Kieran and the new mythical (Pecharunt?) TO BE FAIR that was more of a fan theory than anything but it was one that made a lot of sense and had a lot of evidence to back it up. I guess I got too attached to the idea and was inevitably let down when the game didn’t go in that direction. Still it would have made more sense to give that extra edge as to why Kieran’s treating everyone so awfully,, and having him finally break free of that control during the final fight VS Terapagos would have been SO sick. Either that or before we even get to Terapagos Carmine calls Kieran out and that’s when he finally fucking explodes and rages and vents about his inferiority complex—and THAT is what summons Pecharunt, those negative feelings that it probably feeds off of or smth idk. Then we’d get a split second of Kieran finally being back in control and begging for help. And then Carmine realizing her brother has been under the influence of this Pokemon the entire time and. Okay I’m getting off track into AU territory now lmao sorry moving on

-Switching back to the Terapagos fight, I really enjoyed it! It wasn’t too long of a fight to be drawn out, but it was just long enough that it didn’t feel anticlimactic (also the MUSIC? STELLAR. Pun intended). ALSO ARGHFHH the five stages of grief Kieran goes through in that fight to finally accepting that he’s been going about this the wrong way and has been an awful friend and the way the LIGHT COMES BACK INTO HIS EYES I ALMOST CRIED. This is 10000x more emotional and powerful if you choose to bring Ogerpon with you and fight with her bc that really just. Hammers in the fact that despite all the bad blood and bitterness, Kieran still chooses to fight alongside you and the Pokemon he coveted so much…AND he even processes things enough to fully let go of all his hatred and anger and allows you to catch Terapagos because he KNOWS you’ll take good care of it and after all this time he still trusts you even though he’d probably hate to admit it. #GOOD WRITING

-Something really scary I realized. Kieran brought a Master Ball with him to catch Terapagos. 1. Where did homie even get that. 2. The fact that he was READY and didn’t even give Terapagos a chance to react, that he was essentially catching it against its will (which probably led to its power going out of control), that he was enforcing his own twisted desires and beliefs onto it and not considering its feelings (sound familiar? Looks at Ogerpon). BOY. 3. We’ve only ever seen ONE other person use Master Balls in SV. The AI Professor. I don’t know if this is significant in any way but if the Pecharunt theory WAS true that would make them so so similar and that’s eerie to me. Two characters controlled by something greater than them that they can’t fight…can you imagine how INSANE the dynamics would be listen to me

-Another thing I was kinda disappointed about was Briar? I guess I was just picking up on the vibes that she was actually a villain and would try to steal Terapagos from the player, but I probably gave Nintendo too much credit on that one lol. I do like that she’s not inherently evil, she’s just too absorbed and obsessed with her research to really pay attention to what’s going on around her. BUT. They should have pushed that WAY further. Either commit and do the full villain arc where she snatches Terapagos from Kieran right after he catches it to use it for her own purposes, or pressure him into Terastallizing it so much that it makes him uncomfortable. I want to see Lusamine levels of unhinged obsession. What she had was just a little bit too excited about Area Zero, not a full blown unhealthy and dangerous thing that puts everyone around her in danger.

-Following up on that. Drayton. I kept expecting him to also go villain arc IDK LOL I guess I want everyone to be gay do crime in this DLC 😂 But I seriously kept thinking he was just using the player to knock Kieran off his throne so he could take it right back from us. But no he actually genuinely cared about Kieran and kept pressuring us to beat the Elite Four so WE could knock some sense into him since Drayton wasn’t strong enough to do it himself. Which is a very sweet sentiment, I think :’) But am I the only one who was like bro calm down right after the fight where he was getting up in Kieran’s face and calling him ex-champion…..either he’s way too honest and doesn’t realize he was being cruel OR he was doing it on purpose to be a silly goober (but everyone else was like DUDE. LOW blow.)

-I still have questions. HELLO. HELLO. The notes in Area Zero mentioned the professor meeting a child with a white(?) book? Is that the Scarlet/Violet book? We still don’t know how the whole time travel paradox happened and why Heath talked about meeting Paradox Pokemon DECADES before the professor even brought them to Area Zero through the time machine? What is with the weird ass crystal tree sitting in the middle of a lake in the depths? Is there any significance to the Crystal Pool in Kitakami being connected to terastallizing and Area Zero? I’M JUST. AGHHH. I’m fairly certain we’re getting more content, maybe an epilogue to the DLCs but I’m going CRAZY I NEED TO KNOW NOWWW

-Also isn’t Area Zero like. Top secret hush hush. Why did Geeta let Briar publish a whole ass book about the HIDDEN SECRET of Area Zero that was miles under a closed off SECRET lab. I thought they were denying Briar access to Area Zero for YEARS, probably because they didn’t want her blabbing to the public. Idk. Maybe my memory is fuzzy on that one. Just feels very contradictory fhhdd

-The small little subtleties of Kieran regaining his regular personality as we went down….I ADORED that. His little smiles and him unable to contain his childish excitement and Carmine smiling at him with a knowing look bc after all this time her brother is FINALLY acting more like himself. And Kieran trying to brush it off like “wh-whatever” like he’s some sort of edgy teenager pretending he doesn’t care. GAHHHH it was so cute I wanted to cry 😭

ALL IN ALL it didn’t QUITE meet my expectations but it was still really good, especially considering this was all DLC content. Nothing will ever EVER top the main story of SV but the entirety of TTM and TID came pretty darn close. Kieran my sweet baby boy my blorbo I’m so glad you got your redemption arc and that you finally came to terms with your perception of strength and how it affects others. Baller DLC Nintendo do it again 👏

[auriidae]

LIFESTUCK ?!?! (pt 2 here!) (pt 3)

i was sick a couple days ago and spent like 12 hours straight doing nothing but classpecting life series characters and then was like Yeah i have to draw this now. so here's some sillies 👍 (super long classpect ramble under cut because i spent far too long on it not to share hfshjf)

quick note: i really really love @/classpect-navelgazing's theories and used them for a lot of the ideas here. go check their blog out it rules :]

ok you guys flower ranchers (scott tango jimmy) are making me so insane for this au specifically because of this idea i had about doom/life players. doom in true canon is related to inevitability, fate, and knowledge of the specific rules that keep the characters trapped within their story, right. and life is sort of related to healing, physically and mentally, within the confines of the game. so within this au, the aspect of life refers to the rules within the game that the players can see and are aware of (last life’s trading lives system + boogeyman, third life’s soulmate mechanic, secret life’s tasks, etc.). life players have some amount of dominion over these elements (depending on their class, of course). doom on the other hand refers to everything surrounding the games (stuff like admin powers, the world barrier, and whatever happens to the players after they die). 

as a mage of doom, scot (his name is so funny to me. like yeah he sure is) has a bunch of intrinsic knowledge about the way the games function on a logistical level. he’s like a guy who read the script a while ago and forgot all the characters’ names but knows the basic plot and how it’s going to end. or who knows all the ins and outs of tech crew and for whom the apparent magic of the show for the audience is lost on, since he knows how it’s being done. the thing is, scot isn't especially able to act on this knowledge during the game. what director wants someone in the audience — or one of the actors — taking all the magic out of the show, spoiling how it works and how it ends? no, it’s best if they keep that knowledge to themselves — and so scot’s narratively unable to affect the stories of those around him, even his close friends who he’d want to help. he’s aware of this, of course, which makes him more than a little depressed, as he can see the futility of it all and can’t even explain to anyone what’s going on and how the game works. (the only story he’s able to affect, of course, is his own. which. depressed doom player + mage martyr complex + guy who Really cares about his friends is not necessarily a good combination.)

the amount of stock i put in the idea of gendered classes is close to zero so tangoe gets to be a maid of life because ohh my goodness. i like the theory (thanks classpect-navelgazing) of life as “the aspect of affluence,” where life players usually enter the game with some kind of material wealth or status that helps their position in some way. i also like the idea that maid players start the game with a surplus of their aspect but often end up feeling as if they’re only seen as a provider of that specific thing as a result of this, and so end up longing for something else instead. this primarily applies to last life tango because that’s the season i’m most familiar with lol, but i thought the way he started out with so many lives there and quickly dwindled as a result of everyone taking from him and only him was Really interesting. mans has all the luck of the game he could need, but only wants friends to actually be able to live with. being a life player also ties into his little gambling games and things (again, dominion over stuff within the overarching game/story, but nothing beyond that).

then we get to jimi (again fantastic name). the basic premise of an heir is that they’re played by their aspect, right and Oh Boy is jimmy played by life in the life series. i don’t personally know much about anything he’s done other than heehoo canary guy but along with the previously stated points it’s So fun to see him as a life player because it allows for some really clearly contrast between the way he interacts with tangoe and scot based on their aspects. i really like the idea of scot being like “you’re a life player jimi. it's in your name. the game is not going to let you die” and jimi like “you really think so? aw thanks man” neither of them knowing that dying as a life player in this game is literally like in the job description. (ok. i kind of feel like i’m letting jimi down by basing his story so far around other people.. but this is just for fun and i can always change it later)

(also i could easily have put tangoe and jimi as doom players too but for the fact that i don’t think they necessarily see through the game as much as scot does (or at all). and so life it is.)

feel free to ask me questions abt them!!! i have so many thoughts about this bro 

[tieronecrush]

hot & heavy

epilogue: our love is going gold

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 17.2k (but she's done. like done, done.)

warnings (**SPOLIERS**): NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is now 10 y/o), nanny au, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, mariposa, etc.), established relationship, engagement, marriage, alcohol, eating, very lovey romantic, polite southern manners, spanish/spanglish cause joel is latino, soft joel, domestic joel, WIFE!! GUY!! JOEL!!, discussion of parenting, step-parenting, struggles with conceiving, negative self talk and image, smut, soft dom joel, fingering, oral (f receiving), joel worships the ground his wife walks on and also her body, praise, unprotected p in v (they're tryna get pregnant, not you!), breeding kink, sort of nursing kink? joel is briefly obsessed with your tits and makes comments, mating press, a flash of cumplay, the BRIEFEST mention of daddy kink, joel really wants to give his wife a baby, pregnancy, a mention of giving birth, girl dad joel, CUTE FAMILY!!!

also this is the song mentioned <3 it's a fave of mine and i think very joel & mari

a/n: this has been a doozy but happy to hand this over to y'all. this is simply what i envisioned for their future, and if you had different thoughts, i would love to hear them! <3 or if you have any headcanons for their life beyond this, drop them in my inbox! this fic and these characters are my children and i love them very much. will probably keep them alive somehow. and thank you to everyone who's read this series, you are all so special to me and have sincerely made me feel so much more confident in my writing!

as always, thank you thank you thank you @northernbluess for beta-ing, couldn't do it without you! and this extremely long ending is dedicated to el and kiwi @kiwisbell you are my hype people fr

i feel like i need to say like signing off on h&h now lol so this is me doing that & closing the book!

** this is set over three additional summers post-main story **

first of many

After the holidays, it was an easy decision to move in with Joel and Sarah. The Millers had joined your family for their annual, lowkey celebrations; spending Christmas Eve with Joel and Sarah, it was a treat to witness him playing Santa after Sarah had gone to bed. Only a few curses under his breath putting together the new dollhouse she’d requested from St Nick, the other presents from her father, and your gifts to her carefully wrapped under the tree. The two of you split the plate of cookies while watching A Christmas Story, you and Joel taking turns mumbling the words to the iconic scenes under your breaths.

The next morning, your heart was overwhelmed with the love that you hold for this family that has welcomed you in and made you a part of it. Sarah gifted you a photo frame that she’d made at school, painted with flowers and butterflies, and a photo of the three of you from the trip to the apple orchard you’d taken that fall. Once Sarah was occupied with her new treasures, gifts were exchanged between you and Joel. Requesting to gift first, you stand up from the couch and tiptoe around Sarah and her new dolls sprawled across the floor to the front hall closet and retrieve a brand new, custom acoustic guitar. 

Sitting back with him, guitar placed into his hands and his eyes combing over it, his lips part with a gasping breath when he notices in the inlay of ‘SME’ for his daughter’s name, Sarah Elena.

“The old one in the corner of your room was lookin’ a little worse for wear, and I hadn’t seen you play it in a while…” you trail off in the silence, waiting for his response, “Do you—do you like it? Is it the right kind? I tried to match it the best I could to the one upstairs.”

“Oh, Mari baby, I love it. It’s beautiful, thank you so much…” He shakes his head, taking another sighing exhale in appreciation as he turns it in his hands. “Hadn’t played the other one 'cause it wasn’t quite playable anymore. Restrung it a few too many times, the wood was warped from some water damage. The perils of having a toddler around years ago. This is…it’s perfect, Mariposa.”

You beam, shifting in your seat and anxiously fiddling with your fingers. Joel sets the instrument down next to him carefully, turning back to you. He leans in, kissing you delicately and whispering another ‘thank you’ against your lips, “Guess m’gonna have to serenade you now.”

“Oh, yeah, J. I expect one nightly,” you playfully respond, kissing him again before he pulls away, his turn to stand from his place on the couch. 

He wanders over to the tree, plucking the last wrapped gift from under it, and returning to sit next to you. Handing over the small rectangular box, you unwrap it gingerly, glancing at Joel’s knee bouncing. You gently set your hand on it, smiling at him which he returns, biting his lip to channel his jittery energy. Opening the box, you’re met with the shining gold links of a beautiful charm bracelet. Your eyes wander over the small icons, feeling your chest tighten with love as you take them all in: A small ‘S’ with a ruby-colored stone at each end of the curve, a matching ‘J’ with a sapphire embedded into it right next to the ‘S; there’s a tiny gold key, nearly identical to the one he had given to you those three summers before for your job that started it all; a tiny set of longhorn antlers that is reminiscent of home; a lighthouse that reminds you of one you visited while living in Boston, a day you had documented and sent Joel some of the photos in the mail to recap your time. It was a day you had been happy there, and it made your heart ache that he remembered that. The last charm on the bracelet is a butterfly, bejeweled with kelly green stones, the color of the leaves that you told him were your favorite years ago. The ache in your chest is worked out of its knot with Joel’s hand at your back, a gasping breath as you blink back tears.

Clearing your throat, your watery smile has a flash of worry crossing his eyes before you hand him the bracelet you’ve taken out of the box, lightly requesting, “Will you put it on for me?”

Joel nods shyly, taking the dainty piece in his hands, and hooking the clasp around your wrist after a few tries. You both admire it, your smile growing wider and his matching yours.

“Merry Christmas, Mari baby. I love you.”

“Merry Christmas, J. I love you, too.”

Now, months later, the bracelet on your wrist glints in the sun as you hold onto Sarah’s hand, letting her lead you around the atrium filled with butterflies. Spending the day at the same farm you three had visited summers ago, and had kept up with the tradition with the summers following, you picked an abundance of strawberries, wandered through the nature paths, and now ending the day at the youngest Miller’s favorite spot.

Sarah wildly points out the different types of butterflies, the encyclopedia book of the insect’s species that you had gifted her for Christmas coming in handy for today as she reads the small signs of each patterned, winged creature, adding in her tidbits that she remembers. A grin stays plastered on your face as you listen intently, paying no mind to Joel trailing behind the two of you.

Giving your lessons on the flora that you know of in the gardens, Sarah listens to you as well. Stopping in front of the small waterfall, surrounded by tropical plants and flowers, the two of you go back and forth in fun facts about plants and butterflies, unaware as Joel saddles up behind you. Sarah glances back over her shoulder and grins, the expression reading as knowing and mischievous. Before turning around, you start to warn Joel behind you playfully, “J, if you’re even thinking about pushing me or splashing me, I will ki—”

Your breath catches when you finally face him, eyes dropping to meet his; the backpack he’d be adamant about carrying all day is at his feet, unzipped, and in his hands is a small, forest-green velvet box. Joel rests on one knee, a soft but bright, devoted smile on his face.

“Oh my god…” It comes from your lips as a whisper, your free hand reaching up to cover your mouth while the other continues to tether you to Sarah at your side, her small giggle hitting your ears as Joel glances at her, sending her a wink.

Eyes back on your face, Joel clears his throat, adjusting himself on his knee as he takes a deep breath, “I have been trying to figure out exactly what to say, and I can’t seem to find quite the right words that tell you exactly how I feel about you. I love you, so much, Mariposa. The second you entered my life, that time I saw you for only seconds in your backyard while I was touring the house, I knew I had to meet you. And then the first time I met you, well, I knew that you were who I needed.

“I’ve been walking around blind, trying to figure out life for years, and moving next door to you, that was the last piece falling into place. You have made my life, and Sarah’s life, a million times better. And while these past few years haven’t been picture-perfect for us, we made it through, and I know that we can take on anything that comes our way. Eres el alma más hermosa que he conocido, y soy muy afortunada de tenerte. (You are the most beautiful soul I have ever met, and I am so lucky to have you.) I’ve been waiting for years to do this, Mari baby, and I can’t have any more summers pass by without you being mine. Tú eres mi media naranja. (You’re my soulmate.) I love you. Te amo, Mari. You’re my soulmate, sweet girl, and I can’t take another day without the promise of forever. Will you marry me, Mariposa?”

Without hesitation, you nod your head frantically, your tears that started falling as soon as Joel started speaking continue to flow. You uncover your mouth, squeezing Sarah’s hand and sharing a smile with her before she takes her hand away.

“Yes, oh my gosh, Joel…of course, of course, I’ll marry you. I love you so much, J.” You squat down in front of him, left hand trembling as you hold it out for him. He carefully takes the ring from the box, and Sarah, ever the helper, takes it from the spot where it rests on his knee for safekeeping. The delicate gold band slips onto your finger, embellished with clusters of tiny gems and centered with an emerald cut diamond. It’s perfectly you, and you can’t wipe the smile off your face as you watch Joel settle the piece of jewelry on your finger. Both of you take a deep breath, admiring the sight before your eyes find each other’s again, matching expressions of complete admiration. Your hands find his cheeks, pulling him in for a tenderly passionate kiss, attempting to breathe all the love in your chest into the kiss and his heart. Joel pulls away first, resting his forehead against yours for a quiet moment.

“Thank you, J,” you whisper, and his head tilts with curiosity.

“For what, baby? I think I should be thankin’ you for sayin’ yes to me.” He chuckles and rubs his thumb at the back of your hand, skimming next to the band of the new addition.

“Everything. For not giving up. Your patience when I was still finding my way back to you. How effortlessly you’ve welcomed me into your life and your family…” Cheating your body away, one hand reaches out to pull Sarah into the small huddle, reuniting the moment within your unit of three, “I just—I can’t wait for all my summers to be spent with you both.”

“I can’t wait either. This is gonna be the first of many, Mari baby.”

And the two of you really couldn’t wait.

Only a week after Joel was down on one knee, your family was throwing you an engagement party. Tommy, a few of Joel’s close friends from his contracting company, your college friends, and neighbors were all in attendance to celebrate the two of you, and it was a big to-do. Drinks flowing, music playing, and food was being passed around. Everything under the warmth of a Texas night and the strung lights across the stretch of your parents’ backyard. Joel was glued to your side the entire night, hand on your back or clasped in yours, grabbing your refills and whispering in your ear to make you laugh.

“So…are all of these people coming to the wedding? ‘Cause I can count about half that I have no idea who they are.”

To that, you whispered back, “I don’t know them either, so definitely not. Unless they wanna buy us the most expensive thing on the registry.” Joel laughed, squeezing you closer — if it were even possible — and pressing a kiss to your temple.

Later, once you two were far past tipsy, Joel mumbled against your ear, barely able to get the words out without drunkenly giggling himself, “D’you think Mrs. Clarke is thinkin’ m’the one that got away?”

You couldn’t contain your laughter, bursting out in the middle of the conversation happening around you two, quickly covering your mouth as the lingering hiccups escape, “I think she’s singin’ the blues about you, Miller.”

The rest of the evening was filled with small moments between the two of you; never left alone long enough to have a full conversation on your own. Whispers of love and affection breathed out, fleeting kisses exchanged. It wasn’t until the party was over, everyone dwindled out the door and back to their homes, that you and Joel took a beat to speak to each other in more than one sentence. The early hours of the morning had crept in without anyone quite noticing, and Sarah was knocked out, brought inside to sleep in your old bedroom around 10pm when she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. Joel now held her in his arms, her head laying on his shoulder while the three of you walked the short distance home. After your quiet goodnight to Sarah that went unheard by her sleeping self, Joel put her down, taking off her shoes and leaving her undisturbed to sleep in her clothes.

Back in the ensuite of your, now, shared bedroom, you’re lazily getting ready for bed, movements slower and lagging from the alcohol you consumed. Joel stands behind you, facing your reflection in the mirror and giving you a smile as the exhaustion catches up to him.

“You have fun tonight, sweet girl?” His vocal cords rub together in a fry, hands finding their place on your waist and drawing you back into his chest. Littering kisses at the back of your neck, he hums contently before you affectionately shoo him off to brush his teeth while you apply your skincare.

“‘Course I did, J. Spent most of the night with you, how could I not have fun?” You grin at him from in front of your side of the double sinks, gently rubbing in your moisturizer. “Have you given any thought as to when you wanna set a date for?”

Whatever he responds is muffled by the foamy toothpaste, your face twisting in confusion before he leans over and spits out, rinsing his mouth and toothbrush. Standing back up, he rests his hip against the countertop while facing you, shrugging as he smirks slightly, “As soon as possible. Baby, I’d get married to ya in a garbage dump if it meant we could get married right this second. No puedo esperar para hacerte mi esposa. (Can’t wait to make you my wife.) And I know you don’t want that, and I want to make you happy, so whenever you want, Mari. Lo que sea que desees, lo haré realidad. (Whatever you wish for, I’ll make a reality.) But I will say, summer’s kind of our thing.”

A gentle smile stretches across your lips as you step closer, hands coming to rest on his chest and massaging your fingers gently into the muscles there, “Well, how about we do this summer? I mean, I don’t want anything fancy, just something special for us. Thought maybe we could do it here, in our backyard and my parents’. Where we met and fell in love and broke up and fell in love again and—”

“I love that idea, sweetheart. Think it’s perfect for us…” Joel punctuates his work by stealing a kiss, mint and strawberry lip balm melting on his tongue when he deepens it only for a few seconds, “Think we can manage for Labor Day weekend, mi amor?”

Nodding confidently, your hands skate up to his shoulders, pulling him down for another kiss, “I believe we just set our wedding date, Miller.”

“Damn right, we did, Miller.”

A whirlwind of planning and three months later, you now stand in your childhood bedroom on the second floor of your parent’s house, admiring yourself in the full-length mirror standing in the corner. Your mom had helped you with your hair, a small gold barette holding one side away from your face; your makeup was fairly minimal, fresh, and bright, but nothing too heavy that would melt in the heat that has graced Austin this weekend.

On your wrist is your charm bracelet from Joel, a simple gold locket to match that your father had gifted you the evening before at the rehearsal dinner — it has belonged to his grandmother, and now your grandma wanted you to have it since she couldn’t make the trip down due to her age. It was your ‘something old’ he said, playing into the old traditions that seemed to charm your entire family. 

Your ‘something borrowed’ was a pair of white strappy sandals from your mom, ones that she had worn to her rehearsal dinner when she married your dad. The title of ‘something new’ belonged to the charm hanging off of your wrist that was hand-delivered to you this morning from Tommy, per the request of Joel since you both were getting ready in opposite houses. The gift box unveiled a gold lotus flower, hand painted with deep magenta petals. Inside the lid of the box was a folded note, the words written by your soon-to-be husband in his usual scrawl.

Mi amor,

Got to reading one of your books you leave around about plants, and they were talking about the lotus flower. Made me think of you — since they go back to the murky water each evening and open their blooms at the break of day. You always start fresh, sweet girl, you’re so resilient and strong and pure of heart. No matter what happens, you get through it. And you won’t have to go at it alone, baby. I’m gonna be right there with you through anything.

You make me a better man.

Te amo, mi media naranja.

J

You had to touch up your makeup after having read the note over and over for minutes straight, now fresh faced and eager to get downstairs. One last time in the mirror, you give yourself the once over, smoothing the long, full skirt of your linen dress. The ruched empire bodice lays across your chest, framing your neck with a square shape along with the cap sleeves. Simple, but it feels perfectly you. And now, you were finally on your way to get your something blue: Joel in his navy suit, waiting at the end of the aisle for you.

Everyone’s gathered in their seats, only a crowd of around forty people from your lives occupying the rows, all carefully selected to make the cut. It was easy for Joel, he had three people he wanted there for sure, and well, his daughter didn’t have a choice living right next door, plus with her dad being the groom, and you being the bride. The only chance of a wild card he had was Tommy, but he was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning despite the many shots he had the night prior. At the rehearsal dinner of all places.

Dressed and gaffed, he stands at the end of the short aisle after having walked down it hand-in-hand with Sarah, who was donning a lilac dress she picked out with your help and her hair in her natural, bouncy curls. She now sits next to Tommy in the front row, whose new girlfriend Maria is sitting on the other side of him, stealing peeks over the back of the seat to try to catch a glimpse of you at the top of the deck stairs. Joel is doing the same, eyes flickering from scanning over the crowd to tunneling at the opening of the stairs. 

Music starts and it immediately tunes out of his ears, a tingle of excitement radiating from his chest throughout his body. A vision in white, you appear at the stairs with your arm linked to your dad, Mark; he isn’t paying attention to anything but you, captivated by your beauty. His heartbeat kicks up when you walk down, reaching the end of the grassy path between rows of chairs, and stopping for a moment. With the bouquet in one hand, you use the other that was resting on your dad’s arm to give him a short wave that he returns with a grin.

Each step you take brings up tears in his eyes, an overwhelming joy clenching around his heart. A few drop down his cheeks, using one of his thumbs to wipe away the streaks as you give him a gentle smile, speeding up your walk and dragging your dad along with you. The guests laugh at the eagerness, Joel rocking on the balls of his feet as he bites back his wild grin when you finally reach him. Exchanging hugs with your dad, Mark shakes Joel’s hand before clapping him on the back, a sure nod directed to him.

His hand slips into yours naturally, helping you with the last few steps to stand in front of him, exhaling a deep breath. A smile that he can’t wipe off stretches across his face, looking into your eyes as he lifts a hand to wipe his cheeks. You do the same, delicate touch against his skin while your gaze stays trained on his. Beating out of his chest, his heart thumps deeply, the wings of his butterfly fluttering madly in his gut in time with his heartbeat.

“Hey, Mari.”

“Hi, J.”

Everyone settles back in their seats, and your brother stands at the makeshift altar, a carved arbor handmade by Joel over the last few months frames the three of you in front of your guests. You turn to hand off the wildflower bouquet you put together to Sarah, eager to fulfill her responsibility of holding it during the ceremony. She grins, whispering to you loud enough for him to hear when she takes the arrangement.

“You look so pretty, Posey. I’m excited for you to marry Daddy.” Your hand reaches for her curls, squatting down in your dress to address her at eye level, unconditional love shining in your eyes as you look at his daughter.

“You look beautiful, Sare Bear. I’m so excited, too.” Other words are exchanged only between the two of you, a hug shared before Sarah retreats to her chair next to Tommy and you stand up and take Joel’s hands.

Chris ambles through an introduction, recollecting his version of events, as well as both of your sides, for how your relationship has progressed. Humor was laced throughout, laughter bubbling over throughout the crowd of guests, and especially between the two of you when you shared knowing expressions.

The ceremony moves quickly, with no religious elements to extend the length, simply secular. Before he knows it, Chris is reaching the vows, allowing a moment for Tommy to present the rings to each of you, clapping a hand on his brother’s back.

“Don’t fuck this one up, brother. Posey’s a good ‘un. Way too good for you—”

Joel cuts him off with a mumble and an eye roll, “I know all of this, Tommy, but thank you for the reminder.”

Chris directs Joel to go first, a deep inhale and extended exhale fills the air as you give his hands a reassuring squeeze. He flashes a smile at you before he drops one of your hands, finishing in his inside jacket pocket for the small slip of paper.

“I tried to memorize this, but we both know that wasn’t gonna happen…” he huffs out a nervous chuckle, reading over the page before his eyes come back to you, a patient and gentle grin on your face, “I genuinely hope you know how much I love you. I try to show you, to tell you, to make you feel it through osmosis every day, but I truly hope you can feel it. Through all that we have been through together and on our own, I have always had you in my mind. I thought about you every day you were away, and all I was hoping for was your happiness. I cannot tell you what it means that you have found your happiness with me, but I will be thanking whatever forces are out there for bringing us back together. Our roads may have been bumpy, and they may be in the future, but I’m so thankful to have you in my passenger seat. Cause we both know you don’t like to drive.” Joel winks and the crowd of guests laugh.

“I never want to let go. And I’m never going to let you go, Mariposa, I’m in it for the long run.  Eres todo para mí. (You are everything to me.) You are everything I have ever asked for, hoped for, didn't think I deserved. You are…un alma tan pura (such a pure soul) and I don't know how you ended up with me, but I'm countin’ my luck every second of every day. I love you through anything, mi Mariposa, and I cannot wait for our future together, as a family. I’m so happy that you have found a place you belong with Sarah and me, and I feel so lucky that you have chosen me. Te amo, mi Mariposa. Siempre.”

Recovering from your tears, you choke out a small sob that tugs on his heartstrings, tightening his grip on your hand while his brow furrows softly in concern.

“Happy tears, I promise, J. Very happy tears.” Another sob comes with a burst of laughter, a hand of yours fanning your face. Joel reaches up, wiping away the stragglers, careful to not smudge any of your mascara. With a deep breath, you focus back, centered, offering Joel your left hand. He repeats the phrase from Chris, who recites it from his printed-out online ordainment course before slipping the simple matching gold band onto your finger above your engagement ring, ears ringing when he sees the symbol of his love and commitment on your finger, where it will stay for the rest of his time on this Earth.

Next, it was your turn to recite your vows, Chris pulled a piece of paper from his jacket and handed it to you. A giggle slips from your lips, wavering the small folded sheet, “Couldn’t memorize it either. Got too much to say…”

Joel relaxes in his stance, thumb circling the back of your palm as he listens, the butterfly wings fluttering into his chest and up to his head, love overwhelming his nervous system across his body. You clear your throat, looking up from the wrinkled white sheet, “I didn’t know that one summer spent at home would completely send me on a whole new life path, but looking back, I am eternally grateful that I wanted to mooch off my parents for as long as possible. That first summer, I fell hard and fast, and despite the obstacles, my love continued to root deeper inside of me and grow out new branches with every memory we made together. I am so lucky to have been welcomed so easily into the Miller household, and I cannot imagine my life with you or Sarah there right next to me. You both have brought so much into my life and thanks to you, J, I feel like I have truly found myself. 

“I was always searching for what I was meant to do, who I was meant to be, and what I would leave behind in my life. And while I went out searching everywhere, the answer was my next-door neighbor. I am meant to be your person, I was meant to care and love and create a life with you, and your wonderful daughter, and I know I will leave behind all my love for you and our family behind. My success does not need to be measured by the reach of my impact, but by how deeply I love you. That is all that matters to me, to make you feel loved and supported and to know how incredible you are. You mean the world to me, and I love Sarah as if she were my own; both of you are my best friends and I could not do this life without you. I am so excited to spend the rest of my days, and the rest of my summers with you, J. I love you. Forever.”

The same routine goes for you, slipping a gold band around Joel’s left ring finger. He flexes with the new accessory on his hand, admiring it before he looks at you, a wide and wild grin crossing his face as he listens as Chris starts to ask him that very special question, “Joel, do you ta—”

“Absolutely I do. No question.”

Laughter rises from the attendees, and you, playfully roll your eyes. Chris nods shortly, chuckling as he turns to address you with the same question. He states your name, inquiring, “Do you ta—”

“Of course, I do. Only been waitin’ years for this to happen.” 

Joel laughs, shaking his head as he mumbles a sweet agreement, “You and me both, baby.”

Chris drops the papers he was reading from next to him on the grass, clasping his hands together, “Well, that made it damn easy for me. With the power vested in me by apparently the state of Texas, but who really knows, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Now y’all can kiss finally.”

A hand presses against the small of your back, pulling you into his chest as he folds down, latching your lips to his in a deep kiss, all of his love pouring into the moment. It takes restraint to not take it further in front of everyone, your intoxicating taste drawing him in and quenching a perpetual thirst he has. You lean back first, fingertips digging into his shoulders to hold him off as you whisper, “Gotta keep some decorum until tonight, Mr. Miller.”

“Hard to do that with you, Mrs. Miller,” he rasps back, matching blindingly bright grins across your faces as you right yourself, turning to face your guests as your brother loudly announces.

“For the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Miller!”

With the low-key, intimate wedding that you both had planned together, there was no real formal separation of the ceremony and reception. Instead, everyone wandered over to the backyard of Joel’s home, which was now yours, too. There were rented tables set up with chairs around, no seating chart, and a checkered dance floor set up in the middle of the lawn. Lights have been strung from his deck to the tree at the back of the property line that holds Sarah’s tire swing, some lanterns strewn about to add more light as the sun sets in the later evening. 

The family-favorite restaurant in the city that the three of you have frequented, even as friends, catered the meal, and your parents, ever so prepared, had stocked up all summer with booze. Your dad plays pretend bartender, getting your now-husband behind the tablecloth-covered folding table and pouring heavy drinks and somehow heavier shots. By sundown, everyone was liquored up enough to cheer for you both to have a first dance, chanting their request over and over.

Joel looks at you from his spot next to you, eyebrows raising in question. His hand at your back draws you closer, starting to sway to whatever song is playing as he grins with a looseness to him, relieved to have you as his for good and relaxed from the alcohol in his blood. “C’mon, Mari baby, I wanna dance with you. M’wife. I got the perfect song.”

“Okay, okay, you go tell Chris what song you want and see if he’s got it on his iPod.” 

You push Joel along, giggling to yourself as he shuffles over to Chris, the makeshift DJ for the evening. Joel leans in, talking in your brother’s ear over the music currently playing. They exchange a smile and nod, Joel laying a hand on his shoulder and shaking it affectionately. His beer gets abandoned on the nearest surface, giddily running over to you and taking your hand. Impatiently, he pulls you to the center of the dance floor, and Tommy intercepts your drink before it sloshes all over the front of you, huffing out a disbelieving breath as you continue to drag behind Joel.

Your husband turns you in his arms, one hand finding your back as the other lifts your joined ones toward his shoulder, elbows bent. Everyone else clears the dancefloor as an upbeat guitar riff sounds out of the speakers surrounding the dancefloor, the bright drums kicking in as Joel starts to shuffle the two of you around the dancefloor, a swing to your movements again.

The familiar lyrics of Orleans’ Still the One that Joel has sung to you many times over the last year are recited right back to you, making you reminisce about the time you were driving in the car to pick up Sarah from camp, a rare afternoon that both of you had off together. The song had come onto Joel’s favorite classic rock station, perking him up in his seat as he turned the volume dial up.

“Oh, Mari baby, this is such a great song.”

Not as familiar with it, you listen, giggling as he sings along with his words pointed at you, and you had to admit, they were pretty sickly sweet. Ever since then, Joel got into the habit of singing it to you, learning to play it after he received his new guitar from you at Christmas.

Dancing with him now, under the sticky heat of the tail end of Texan summer, surrounded by family and friends, he makes you feel as if it’s only the two of you again like it was for every other moment before with this same song.

In your ear, he sings along only for you, pulling away and twirling you as y’all take over the entire dancefloor with how free and loose you’re playing it. “You’re still the one that makes me laugh…still the one that’s my better half…we’re still havin’ fun and you’re still the one.”

At the next chorus, you join him in singing along, laughing at his excitement, both of you singing along louder. The song reaches the guitar solo, and Joel takes both of your hands, swinging you out from his chest before pulling you back in; he spins you to cross your arms in front of you, and your back to his chest before twirling you out. On the last line, when the final word is dragged out, he wraps his arms around you, spinning both of you around until the final chord strikes, setting you down and chests heaving to catch your breaths. Wide smiles still find your open mouths, cheers and whistles from the guests gathered around the dancefloor, now filling the checkered floor as the next song plays.

Breathless, Joel grins madly, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly before asking, “Think we did pretty damn good for unplanned, don’t you, Miller?”

“Damn right, we did, Miller.”

The rest of the evening was all the same, a night spent with your closest family and friends all celebrating the two of you and your love. Both you and Joel shared a dance with Sarah separately, relishing in her unbridled joy and Joel comforted his daughter when she shed a few tears about how happy she was. Your dad pulled you for a short jaunt around the dancefloor, and Joel asked your mom for a dance, which she accepted happily as a stand-in for his mom.

More drinks flowed into glasses and out of bottles, your shoes kicked off and Joel’s jacket and tie discarded onto the back of a chair somewhere. Your cheeks ached from how much you were smiling and laughing the whole time, a weight lifted, the promise of forever with your favorite person now on its way to being a reality.

You both ceremoniously cut the small single-tiered cake that your mom ordered, serving the slice on a plate. Grabbing a piece with your hands, you cheers it with Joel’s, watching as his went into his mouth and laughing as yours went across his cheek. He feigned shock, shaking his head as he looked at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes, taking a step closer. A turn on the ball of your foot directs you in an attempt to get away; failing miserably, misstepping from your level of drunkenness, Joel catches you in his arms. Turning you back around to face him, he steals a purposefully sloppy kiss, buttercream smearing against your lips and chin, the taste of vanilla coating your tongue as it melts into the taste of Joel, whiskey, beer, and sugary sweetness from the dessert.

At the very end of the night, most guests in cabs home or retreat to their homes down the street, it’s left to your closest people. The last song of the night is announced by Chris, the same song that has come up again and again for the two of you trilling over the speakers. Everyone dances and sings along to American Pie, the perfect cyclical moment for the two of you, and the closing moment of your summer. Sarah dances with the two of you, laughing as Joel twirls her around, infectious smiles on their faces. 

Your heart grows in your chest, nearly to the point of bursting as you take a step back in your mind, taking in all of the moment as it surrounds you. In the backyard of your new house, the next chapter of your life starts with Joel and Sarah; right next door is your childhood home, full of love and memories with your parents and brother. Even through the hardships, these places and people have never stopped feeling like home.

The song finishes with a flourish, Joel tucking you into his chest after he scoops Sarah into his arms with a soft groan. Sarah lays her head on her dad drowsily and he presses a kiss to her forehead, mirroring the same on yours; a mumble against your skin is barely heard by you, his drawl exaggerated by the liquor, “Mi Mariposa y mariposita. My lil’ Bug. Love my girls so much.”

Tommy slides sleepy Sarah into his arms from Joel after you two say goodnight to her, the younger Miller brother already prepared the arrangement for her to stay at his on the night of your wedding. You reassure her the promise to meet at Waffle House in the morning, which will likely be the afternoon with the state of the adults. Maria, the designated driver, and Tommy, much closer to sober than drunk than you were expecting, send another congratulations your way before they’re off to the car with Sarah.

After the necessary sweep of cleaning is done between you two and your immediate family, food, drink, and lanterns gathered, they part ways, taking everything back to theirs to deal with in the morning along with striking down the tables, chairs, and dancefloor. In the quiet of the early morning hours, you and Joel stand with your arms around each other, swaying gently. Cheek to chest, Joel’s voice rasps from overuse, vibrating your ear pressed against him, “Was it what you wanted, sweet girl?”

“Everything and more, J. I loved it,” you say as you pull your head away, tilting your chin to look into his eyes, “And I love you, m’husband.”

“I love you more, m’wife.” He shakes his head, biting a smile back, “Don’t think m’ever gonna get tired of callin’ you that, Mari.”

“Me neither. Gonna be callin’ you my husband instead of usin’ your name,” you flirt as your smirk grows and he wiggles his eyebrows, hand drifting down to the curve of your ass.

“Guess we better test that theory, baby.” He grins as he bends his knees, lifting you over his shoulder. His other hand rests on your ass to balance you, your hands pressing against his lower back as you shriek slightly from the initial shock. “Want the whole neighborhood to know m’your husband now. Even if they weren’t invited, so you better be loud, m’gorgeous wife.”

He walks you both up the stairs and through the backdoor, your snort echoing in the quiet of the night, pulling out the ol’ faithful from the early days with him, “Yes, sir.”

second nature

“What do you think about getting a dog?” you ask from your seat on the bed, propped up against the headboard with a book in your lap. Joel pops his head out from the en-suite, brow quirked as he continues to towel off his hair and laugh softly.

“Can’t say I’ve thought about it, darlin’.” He disappears again, hanging his towel on the back of the door before coming back out of the bathroom with a clean pair of boxers on, washed up from his long day on-site. “Have you been thinking about getting a dog?”

A sheepish grin stretches across your face, shrugging your shoulders as Joel gets into bed. He matches your position, leaning back against the headboard and turning his head toward you. He’s intrigued. If he wasn’t, he’d tell you that you could talk about it more in the morning, and then he would give you his honest opinion in the light of day. Never wanting to start a silly argument before bed, always attempting to keep the peace.

Which made him great at compromising. To what you wanted in the first place.

“I’ve been thinking it would be nice for Sarah. Like something to learn responsibility — teaching her to feed it on schedule and take it for walks and fill the water bowl.”

“Yeah, it’ll teach her that I’ll take on all those responsibilities when she gets bored of it,” your husband snorts at his own comment, making you roll your eyes playfully and scoot closer.

“Oh, c’mon, J. Don’t you think it would be fun to have a dog around? We wouldn’t even need to get a puppy if you think it’s too much. But I work at home nannying baby Amelia so I’d be around all day and then when Sarah gets home from school or camp, she can take him or her for a walk. And then feed it before you even get home. Oh! Or you could take the dog to work with you! How cute would that be, you could train him to grab your tools for you.” 

A contagious smile brightens your face in the low lamplight, one that Joel can’t help but mirror on his own face. The eagerness is evident in your expression and your voice, and the proposition doesn’t seem like it would be too difficult of an adjustment. Shaking his head at your suggestions, he laughs quietly while reaching a hair up to smooth your hair away from your face.

“Are you gonna be the one to teach it what all the different screwdrivers are?” 

An excited gasp exhales and you scramble to straddle Joel’s lap, “Wait, are you serious? You’re actually okay with getting a dog?”

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you lean back to look at his face. His hands find the curve where your thighs melt into your ass, squeezing gently. Always handsy.

“Yeah, baby, we can get a dog.” Joel groans dramatically when you pull yourself tight against him, hugging him while on hand rubs back and forth at the base of your spine. “I’ve got some conditions though.”

Unraveling from his neck, you stay perched in his lap, nodding fervently. “Anything. Whatever you want, if it means we get a dog.”

“Oh, anything?” he teases with another squeeze of your bum, laughing when you shoot him a look.

“Not what I meant, Miller. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Can’t help it with you, sweet girl. My mind’s always in the gutter around you.” The sentiment is punctuation with a tender kiss to your lips and one to your forehead. Calloused palms skate along your bare thighs, humming contently, “Conditions are: has to be a big dog. Don’t want one of those little white dogs or like something that’ll break if we have babies and they’re a little rough with it.”

The forethought he has for your future children warms your heart, and you agree immediately, “Deal. Didn’t want a little dog anyways. What else?”

“Gotta fence in the backyard. I don’t mind putting in a gate for us and your parents to easily go back and forth through, but I don’t want the chance of the dog gettin’ out when we’re all outside.”

“Totally understandable. I’ll even help you install the fence,” you offer proudly.

“That’s real sweet, Mari baby, thank you. You don’t gotta lift a finger though, I’ll bring some of the guys over and pay a little extra and we’ll get it done in a day, no problem.”

“Alright, so big dog, fence. Anything else you’d like to negotiate, Mr. Miller?” you mock a formal tone, turning your nose up. Joel laughs, tightening his arms around your waist and tugging you closer. Kisses press into your neck and along your jaw, pausing inches away from your lips as he makes his final request.

“Dog sleeps in Sarah’s room or downstairs. I like our privacy.” He smirks before kissing you deeply, easily flipping you onto your back and hovering above you. Your legs hook around his waist and he raises his eyebrows, “That all sound fair to you, Mariposa?”

“Absolutely it does. Guess we’re getting a dog, ri—” You’re cut off by his lips on yours again, pressing you further into the mattress with his body weight.

“Let’s save the rest of this for the morning,” Joel mumbles against your skin as he trails his mouth down your neck to your collarbone, “‘Cause right now, I think I’d rather get some pussy.”

He doubles over in laughter at his own joke, forehead pressing against your chest as his shoulders heave. Your fingers comb into his hair, unable to fight quiet chuckles of your own no matter how hard you try to not give him the satisfaction.

“God, you’re such a dork.”

The clock rolls to 3pm as you sit in your car, lined up along with parents of campers. Shrills of laughter and screams echo from the bright, primary-colored playground across the way, counselors attempting to corral the kids to lead them out for pick-up. Air conditioning blasts on you as you fan at the back of your neck, exhaling in the sweltering Texan heat. It’s only the beginning of summer, June barely having turned over, but the temperatures have reached record highs for the year already.

Your stepdaughter. The thought still makes you smile months on, the dynamic between the two of you falling naturally into a closer, more nurturing relationship. Little acknowledgments from Sarah have made your heart sing over the days; routinely saying goodnight to you along with Joel, asking you for permission to go play outside, seeking you out nearly as much as Joel when she has had a nightmare. The pair of you have built routines of your own before bed, you making a promise to Sarah to read with her and to show her your favorite books from when you were her age.

A few nights ago, Sarah had retreated with you to her room, at least thirty minutes before her bedtime to get in another chapter of Matilda by Roald Dahl. The main character reminded you of Sarah’s sweet and spunky personality, and you were so excited that she fell in love with the story and its characters as quickly as you did when you read it for the first time.

Sat up against her headboard, Sarah laid back in your arms and cracked open the novel where her bookmark stuck out, started to read aloud to you in the low lamplight. Mindlessly, you played with her hair as you listened to her confidently recite the words from the page. The day caught up to you, the peaceful moment pulled a yawn from your lungs. Sarah’s words slowed down, her eyes slowly blinking until they closed, which was your queue to slip the book from her hands and mark the spot, and laid it on her nightstand.

When you tried to slip out from behind her to leave her to sleep soundly, she stirred, mumbling the sweetest, “Will you stay for a little bit, Posey?”

And you had no choice but to oblige her request. After getting comfortable next to her, Sarah curled into your side and you pressed a kiss to her forehead, continued to play with her hair to soothe her back to sleep.

What you hadn’t realized was that you also drifted off in her twin bed with her, the lamp still on. Joel was watching TV downstairs, waiting for you to retreat down the steps as you do every night, but no sign of you after an hour had him standing up to go searching. It was quiet when he reached the top of the stairs, no telling giggles or loud whispers to give the two of you away. 

He pushed open the cracked door of Sarah’s bedroom, and was met with a sight that squeezed his heart tight, a sigh exhaled from his lungs. You tucked right next to his little one, and both slept deeply. Without disturbing your rest, he tiptoed over to the nightstand, tugged the blanket up over both of you before he hovered above the bed to press a gentle kiss to each of your foreheads. 

Lamp clicked off, he whispered to your unconscious ears, “G’night, girls. Love you two.”

It was a few hours before your usual alarm when you’d woken up, sore from the small space and glanced around the dark room to discover you had fallen asleep next to Sarah. Carefully slipped out from the covers, you tucked her back in and padded down the hall to your bedroom where Joel was sleeping, a soft snore came from him as he’d starfished out on the mattress. You gently shook him half awake to move him, and he groaned softly at the disruption before he tugged you into his chest and pressed a drowsy kiss to your shoulder.

“Was jus’ too cute to wake you up, Mari baby. My Mariposa and my lil’ Bug…” He hummed sleepily into your skin, hand gently rubbed circles in your lower belly while your eyes close, desperate for those last few hours of slumber. “Makes me so happy.”

“Me too, J. M’so, so happy she’s that comfortable with me. My baby best friend. And you’re my big baby best friend…” You breathed out an airy giggle and Joel protested weakly behind you, a gentle pinch to your side before you both exchanged a quick “love you” and drifted right back off.

The reminder of the sweet moment in the morning from Joel was the highlight of your week.

Climbing out of the car, the engine running and door open, you round the front bumper and stand on the curb to wait. You find her before she finds you, calling out to her to grab her attention, “Hey, sweet pea!”

Her familiar deep brown irises search for the source of your voice, landing on your face and waving excitedly. Sarah checks out with her counselor for the day, scurrying over to you with her backpack bouncing at her shoulders.

“Hi, Posey!”

She collides with your torso, her growth spurts finally starting over the last few months so the top of her head hits just at your chest, and nearly knocks the wind out of you. Patting her back, you laugh and pull her back to look her in the face, “Well, hello to you too, Sare Bear. How was camp today? You ready to go?”

After your greetings, she climbs into the backseat on the opposite side of Amelia’s car seat. You store her bag in the passenger seat with yours before retreating around to the driver’s side, heading off once both of you are secured in your seatbelts.

Flicking your eyes up in the rearview mirror, the two of you catch up, which mostly consists of her recapping the camp activities and excitedly talking about the pool day that’s planned for Friday. As you turn onto your street, Sarah’s brow furrows at the sight of Joel’s truck in the driveway.

“Dad’s home already? That’s weird.”

“Hm, I guess he is. Or maybe he’s just stopped by to grab something he forgot. You know how he is.”

Sarah laughs in agreement as you park your car next to his truck. Both of you get out and head in through the garage, straight into the kitchen where Joel’s standing at the counter eating a sandwich.

“Told you, Sare, stopped by ‘cause he forgot something. Lunch.” You send him a teasing grin as you deposit Sarah’s bag by the door and kick off your sandals. She does the same before wandering past her dad to the fridge in search of a snack. Apple doesn’t fall far.

“What? I can’t happen to drop in hoping to see my wife and my daughter in the middle of my work day? Do I have to have ulterior motives?” Joel speaks, words muffling around the bite in his mouth as you approach the island to stand opposite him.

“Dad, you literally always ask ‘What’s for dinner?’ or ‘What’s cookin’?’ after you say hi to us every day. Your motivation is always to get some food,” Sarah chimes in from in front of the fridge, laughing when Joel looks at her offended.

“See? Even a ten year old recognizes the pattern of behavior,” you confirm your findings, laughing as Joel grumbles to himself and pops the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth.

“Well, for your information, both of you, I am here for an entirely different reason than lunch and to see you two.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking between the two of you with a mischievous smile on his face. “Why don’t y’all go look in the living room and then tell me if you wanna keep makin’ fun of Dad?”

Sarah excitedly starts off toward the living room, giddy about the surprise awaiting her. Your brow furrows and lips twist up in curiosity, eyes staying glued to Joel. He laughs and nods to the other room, a bright smile on his face.

“Better go see, mi amor. Think you’ll want to meet him.” Joel winks, your attention being pulled away when you both hear Sarah gasp from the living room.

“Oh my gosh! Posey, come here! Aw!”

That’s when it registers — the surprise, home in the middle of the day, the smirk, ‘you’ll want to meet him’.

“You didn’t,” you breathe out, head snapping back to Joel as he gives you a wide, genuine grin.

“Go! See for yourself.” He rounds the island and grabs your hips from behind, guiding your steps into the living room. Sarah’s giggles fill the room as the fluffy Bernese Mountain puppy stands in her lap and licks at her face. The small dog’s attention is pulled from her and over to you and Joel entering the room, a tiny bark sounding before he scampers over.

“Joel, oh my god, how did you—when—oh my god…” You kneel down to scoop up the little one into your arms and cuddle it gently, giving it pets before letting him run around again.

“Found someone who had a litter with their family dogs the day after we talked about it. And arranged to pick him up. They said he’s the energetic one, and that he’s gonna be a big boy. Like a hundred pounds.”

“Oh my god, he’s so sweet…thank you, J.” You beam up at him, waving him to bend down and steal a kiss, squeezing his shoulder.

Sarah’s playing with your new family dog, tugging with a rope toy as he fights back with his whole little body. “Thank you, Dad. He’s so cute!”

“What should we name him?” Joel asks as he lowers himself to the floor next to you, smiling as the puppy runs over. The two rough house, Joel easily flipping him over to scratch at his belly as the dog pants happily.

“Any ideas, Sare?” you ask, looking over at her.

She thinks for a moment before looking up between Joel and you, laughing at the tiny pup’s antics, “What about Goose? He just seems like one. Like a silly goose.”

“Goose? I like it, Bug,” Joel confirms, turning to you with a grin, “How about you, Mari?”

Nodding, you look at the new addition to the family, burning bright with happiness at your people’s excitement, “I think Goose is a perfect fit. And now you’re not outnumbered anymore, J. Two girls and two boys in the Miller household.”

Sarah laughs and lays down to cuddle with Goose while Joel moves closer to your side, wrapping an arm around you and kissing your head as he quietly whispers, “Hopefully won’t be too long before the boys are outnumbered again.”

“And what makes you say it won’t be us girls being outnumbered?”

“Call it father’s intuition. Wouldn’t know what to do with a little boy, bein’ a dad to another girl would just be second nature. Plus, I would want a mini Mari running around the world.” Joel presses a kiss to your temple before you turn your head, catching his pursed lips with yours sweetly.

“I’d take anything if it means havin’ a little piece of you forever, J.”

third time lucky

Negative.

A single line, bold and brash, stares back at you. Turning the plastic in your hands, you attempt to read it at different angles, the smallest bit of hope lingering for another line to appear — that it was a trick of the light that was causing your disappointment.

To no avail, the blue strip remains unaccompanied in the small window. A sinking feeling fills your body from your toes up. Everything feels heavier, except your lower stomach. That has never felt as empty as it is now.

Heavy footsteps thump a vibration in the floors, but your focus remains on a speck of dust floating in the light past your field of vision. His presence hangs in the bedroom, milling about, unknowing of what you were up to before he came in from mowing the lawn.

“Hey, baby, m’gonna take a shower and then we’ve got Sarah’s softball game at three. Probably half to leave here around two, her coach asked all the parents to be thirty minutes early for some reason…” Joel’s voice fades in your head as your thoughts start to yell, scream, fight, taunt inside of your mind.

A hard swallow pops your ears, the ringing in them growing louder as your mind begins to wander. The test is left discarded on the bathroom counter, with no heart yet to throw it in the garbage where the others have ended up. Your bare feet shuffle against the rug as you seek out solace under covers, even in the ninety-plus-degree heat. The springs of the mattress shift under your weight, lying on your side facing the opposite side of the bed that lays empty right now. The coverlet is pulled up over you, curling your fingers at the hem tightly, white knuckle grip to release some of the tension that has taken over your mind. You want to scream, cry, yell, question — but what you want most of all is to be able.

Why aren’t you able? Why can’t you do what your body is made to do, what it begs for, what it reminds you that you’ve failed at every month?

Joel stands in observation of you, careful distance, one hand lifting before he drops it. He can guess what this is about. What you’ve left behind in the en-suite. But to confirm his suspicions, he quietly walks into the tiled room, leaving his clean clothes on the counter while he picks up the test.

Negative.

His body sinks, toes up to his head, but with a gaping, empty feeling in his chest. There’s so much room left in his heart, room he is eager to fill with another part of you, another love, another soul to protect. Now, though, all of his emptiness is filled with an ache for you. You’ve been dreaming out loud for a year now, wonderings and visions shared with him late nights and early mornings — Will they have his eyes? You hope so, so that they look like their sister. Who’s ears would they have? What quirks will they pick up from both of you? Who will they grow up to be? How will we be able to contain our love for both of our kids?

Our kids. Joel remembers that night; after you said that, he couldn’t hold himself back, couldn’t contain his love for you. No hesitation that his own was yours now, too. All he wanted was to give you another, to see your belly grow and your smile brighten and your skin glow. He was begging for whatever power was in the universe for that time to take, for both of you to be gifted with what you wished for so often, so deeply.

Desperation. Wavering confidence. Sorrow, worry, dwindling hope. He saw it all over you, time after time when the single line appeared on the plastic sticks.

You and Joel had been trying for a year. A long year. Maybe your desire was too strong, too overpowering. But shouldn’t that be a sign of your love? For each other, for your family? All he wants to do is give you the life you’ve wished for. And yes, all you’ve said you want is a life with him, but anyone who meets you would be able to tell you are meant for a nurturing life. Meant for motherhood.

It was already natural for you, taking a ten-year-old in stride, making her into your best friend — making her a priority over Joel most of the time. He knew it didn’t matter to you that she wasn’t yours, biologically speaking, but he can’t help but want to give you a child that is part you. How badly he wants another piece of you in the world, all of your goodness packaged into the purest soul.

Resigning with a sigh, he sets the test down on the cool countertop and exits the bathroom, a slow stride over to your lying form. Crumpled under covers. With a soft groan, he lowers himself to his knees with cracks popping his joints. His age is starting to show the closer he gets to forty and the more hours he works in the summer weather, another looming factor for him — he’s only known being a young dad. If you two have to wait, what would it be like to be nearly sixty when your kid graduates high school?

Shaking the superficial concerns from his head, his wide palm glides along the quilted fabric draped over your side. He rests his chin on his opposite arm, laying against the mattress close to your pillow. At the coax of his touch, you turn over to face him. Lips pursed in a frown, dried watery streaks being washed anew with your fresh tears, fat and rolling down your cheeks and over the bridge of your nose. They drip off of your skin, dotting and darkening the fabric of the pillowcase underneath you.

Joel leans in, brushing your hair from your face and pressing his lips to your forehead for a lingering kiss. A deep breath draws the smell of your shampoo into his nose, down deep into his lungs where it soothes his aching chest.

“Mari, sweet girl, I know it’s hard. I know we want it so bad, but there’s always another option,” he speaks softly, kindly, delicately, “We can go to that fertility specialist your doctor recommended. I promise, mi amor, we’ll have a baby together.”

He means it, and you can tell he means it. Ever since you had been back together, ever since he confessed his feelings for you — years ago now — he hasn’t made an empty promise. From tiny little things like a pledge to stop on the way home for your favorite ice cream, going to three different stores and adding nearly an hour to his day simply to show up with it for you, to larger, grander oaths, his wedding vows, the promise of building a beautiful life with you.

Emotion is thick in your throat as you attempt to vocalize your concerns. They keep you up at night, with Joel’s warm and expansive hand resting on your stomach right above your womb as he sleeps soundly. He wants it clearly as much as you do; you can feel it each time you’ve tried. How badly he wants to provide this for you.

Is he having the same thoughts as you? Does he wonder if something’s ‘wrong’ with you?

“I wanna be able to do it. Why can’t I do it on my own?” The sound of your meek voice shatters his heart and he shakes his head back and forth, adamant in shutting down the thoughts.

Tugging the covers down, Joel’s hands find your exposed skin, sliding across with a clammy touch from his labor outside. And nerves, too, you’d guess. Moving from his knees on the floor next to the bed, he finds a spot sitting at your side and shifts you to lay on your back. Opening up to him. Warmth rests over your womb, blanket pulled down to the tops of your thighs while his thumb brushes at your stomach, catching on the fabric of your shirt.

“No—oh, mi Mariposa, you don’t even know if it would be you with an issue. Very well could be me. Maybe breathin’ all the paint fumes at work killed m’little swimmers.” He breathes a small laugh through his nose, attempting to lighten the mood.

Your hands fly up to your face, muffling your voice, “Oh, god, don’t say that. I wanna have your baby, not some sperm donors.”

His hand coasts up your torso, over to your side to wrap around your rib cage, feeling your breaths as his fingertips lightly tickle the spot, “That was supposed to make you laugh, sweet girl.” 

Hands falling away from your face, your brow pinches together and your frown deepens. About to make a retort, your mouth open, Joel skates the fingertips of both his hands up and down your sides, alternated on each side of you to make it harder to catch his wrists. Laughter bubbles up from your chest, your frown morphing into a flashing smile before you’re calling for a surrender in between gasping breaths.

Relenting, his hands stop, settling at the curve of your waist. He leans over you, nudging his nose against yours before pressing a ghosting kiss to your lips. A small grin, hopeful and reassuring, with a tinge of worry flickering in his irises, barely there before his smile reaches his eyes, “It’ll happen for us, Mari baby. Why don’t we say, one last go before lookin’ into the doctors? We’ll do all the things, track whatever we need to track. I’ll drop whatever I need to come home and put a baby in you.”

Joel wiggles his eyebrows, playful smirk crossing his expression. You roll your eyes under him, pushing an accusing finger into his chest, “Like you don’t already do that. I could call you in the middle of work and just go ‘Hey, J’ and you’re in the truck on your way home.”

“That’s right, Mari. As it should be. Y’know what they say — happy wife, happy life.” Another kiss to your lips, this one a bit more savoring. “What d’ya say, mi amor? One more go?”

“Okay, yeah. One more go.”

Butterflies kick up in your stomach when you hear the low rumble of Joel’s truck cut, heavy door swinging closed and quick strides following. The front door opens after a short jingle of keys, shutting behind him with the slide of the lock back into place. Distant grumbles of his make you laugh, his frustrations with his work boots floating upstairs to where you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, leaning back on your hands. Clad in only your bra and panties, you work your bottom lip between your teeth as anticipation builds with each of Joel’s footsteps up the carpeted stairs.

You both only have the afternoon — less than an hour of your afternoon, actually — to make your last attempt. Already having taken advantage of the window in your cycle twice, the peak day of your ovulation fell, of course, during the busiest time of year for Miller Construction. Summer has come to a close, and now people have picked up their home improvements to start nesting for the winter; a craving you’ve been having yourself, desperate to make your home larger and livelier by one more. Joel has snuck away for a moment that you two have alone, and you’ve told the couple you nanny for that you have an immovable appointment for today.

Pretty sure the only thing that will be immovable today will be you once Joel’s hour is up.

 “Mari? Mi amor?” he calls out and you chuckle softly at the boyish excitement in his voice.

“In the bedroom, J!”

Joel rounds the doorway into your shared room, stopping a handful of steps past the threshold when he registers the sight of you. He hums a low moan, licking his lips as his eyes devour your lacy undergarments, “Mierda, mi esposa, estás tratando de matarme? (Shit, my wife, are you trying to kill me?) You look so fucking beautiful, darlin’.”

A low whistle leaves his lips as he stalks closer, eyes rake over your form as you present your primped self for his taking.

“You get all pretty for me, sweet girl? I like this…” he rasps as he’s within arm’s reach now, stretching a hand out to toy with the strap of your bra and snapping it against your skin sharply.

“Wanted to look pretty when you fill me up, J.” One curl of his finger under your chin draws you to sit up straight, tilting your head back to look at Joel towering over you.

“Good girl,” he praises, a glint of excitement in his eyes, “You want me to fill up your sweet little cunt, Mariposa? Want me to give you a baby? Tell me.”

“Yes,” you breathe out shakily, eyelids fluttering closed as his hands trail lightly across your exposed skin, ghosting everywhere you need him most.

“More, sweetheart. Dime. Dime cuánto lo deseas. Suplicar por ello. (Tell me. Tell me how badly you want it. Beg for it.)” His instructions float through your head, only keywords translating in while Joel leaves over you, lips pressing feather-light kisses along your neck, across your chest.

“I need it, Joel. Need you so fucking bad, I wanna have your baby. Want you to make me a mom, fill me up as many times as it takes until we get our baby…please, J…” As if the taste of you wasn’t enough to do him in, the wild, fervent look in your eyes intrigues him beyond. Hearing the words from your lips, directed to him, he’s fucking aching. He was growing hard on his way over here, the thoughts swimming through his mind of you laid out and ready for him to take delegating his blood supply to rush down below his belt.

He needs you, but first, he needs to see you unraveling underneath him only from his fingers.

“Don’t worry your pretty little mind, Mari. M’gonna take care of you. I’ll make sure this one takes. Let’s call it third time lucky this summer.” 

He shoots you a wink, your mouth parting to respond. Before you can let any breath escape, his lips are crashing with yours. Heavy, heady, and so fucking hot it spirals your thoughts into nothing. His tongue melts with yours, the taste of his black coffee and the donut he must have eaten at work this morning tingling your taste buds. Sweat sticks to his skin when your hands rest at the sides of his neck, falling backwards as he climbs over you. He smells of wood shavings, freshly mowed grass, and hard work — calloused hands gliding along your body and feeling the softest of scratches of his blue collar hands.

“Joel, need you — please.” It’s more of a whine than a begging whimper, rising frustration levels from his lack of touch in the place you need and want him the most. 

Your cunt is desperate, dripping down your folds and surely soaking the sheets. A quick jerk of your hips attempts to brush against him, to catch any relief for the need building low in your stomach. A large palm presses your lower half back against the mattress, the other hand pushing your leg to the side to open you up further for him. A knuckle brushes your clit, grazing up and down your seam through your soaked panties. Your husband clicks his tongue as he shakes his head at you, patronizing tone slick in his voice.

“Darlin’, I wanna take every second of my time with you. Are you gonna let me? Gonna let me get your cunt squeezing my fingers? Gonna let me fill you up, mi amor?” he asks, as if you wouldn’t say yes to all of those requests and he knows it. Nodding, a desperate yes exhaled when he applies more pressure with his finger against your clit, rubbing slow circles. “Good girl. Siempre tan bueno para mí. (Always so good for me.)”

Joel folds over your, taking one of your perked nipples into his mouth through your bra and sucking. His tongue flattens against the cup before he’s pulling at the nub with his teeth. The material is darkened where his mouth was when he grows a bit more needy, grabbing at the straps and yanking the bra to rest at your midsection. You slip your arms out of the straps and he pushes you further onto the bed by the back of your thighs, stripping your panties off and settling on his knees.

Pressure forms against your clit from two of his fingers, slow circles dragging a moan from your throat. Joel smirks, satisfied with the way you squirm under him, trying and failing to get more from his hands. Before you can vocalize a whine, Joel is over you again, bringing his attention to your now bare breast while the circles continue. Hot, humid kisses are littered on the soft skin, happy hums rolling from Joel’s chest. He pulls his head up, looking down at your chest with a half grin and his dimple on display.

“You’re gonna get so soft and swollen everywhere, Mariposa. Round belly, huge tits—can’t wait to play with ‘em.” His grin widens, boyish and brazen with the glee that the fact fills him with. “You gonna let me, baby? Gonna let me make your sore tits feel better with my mouth?”

His question goes unanswered as his mouth attaches to one of your nipples, sucking and flattening his tongue as he nurses it. Pulling away with a pop, he mimics the same on the other side, the intensity of his suckling along with his fingers rubbing faster against your clit — even slipping down to tease at your entrance — has you wiggling under him, desperation notching up your spine.

“Joel, please,” you plead, choking on your breath when he pulls the bud of your breast between his teeth, a low growling sound rumbling from his throat. 

Two of his thick fingers push into your dripping cunt, a relieved moan echoing against the walls of the bedroom. Curling up into your spongy walls, they thrust quickly and pet at the certain spot inside of you. Joel’s mouth is still at your chest, his hunger feeding itself on the taste of your skin.

“Fuck, Mari, gonna break my fucking fingers off. So fucking tight.”

A distraught whimper crawls from your chest, breaths heaving as your walls clench around his quick-paced fingers. You gasp when he slips a third one in, hooking them up. Despite the stretch, you still feel an emptiness. All you want is his cock inside of you, spilling into you and leaving you to grow fuller with his baby. The thoughts of him above you, fucking it all deeper into you to reach your womb, drive you over the edge. The tips of his fingers press against that spot inside of you, his warm mouth hanging open at your tit while his eyes watch you come undone. Writhing and walls pulsing around his fingers, his name falls from your mouth as you choke out moans and your vision grows dark.

“That’s it, Mari baby, fuck,” Joel works you through the orgasm before his fingers leave you and he sits back on his haunches. Sucking his digits clean of your slick and come, the other hand rubs your thigh gently before he coos down at you, “That was a big one, wasn’t it? Feel good?”

Still coming down from it all, your body feels liquidity, taking whatever form Joel is molding you into right now after he’s stripped himself bare. One hand slips under you, unclasping your bra and tugging it away from your torso, leaving you as naked as him. His eyes drink in your body while his grip holds your calves, chuckling darkly when you finally breathe out a response, “I feel…like I need you to put a baby in me.”

“Cualquier cosa para usted, mi esposa. Vas a estar tan lleno de mí. Te encanta la sensación de mi mecos dentro de ti, ¿verdad? (Anything for you, my wife. You're going to be so full of me. You love the feeling of my cum inside of you, don't you?)” Your head rolls with a nod, agreeing to anything Joel says in the moment, still hazy from how hard he’d made you come moments ago. Half-lidded eyes watch as he licks his fingers, stroking his cock a few times with a quiet sigh. That’s something you could watch all day — Joel’s pleasure. And here underneath him, you have the perfect view, and the perfect position to be used for it.

Fully handing over control to him, his hands tug you up so your ass sits on his thighs while he’s on his knees. Fingertips skate along the distance of your legs, grabbing at your calves to rest them on his broad shoulders. Even the slightest shift forward from his hips stretches you wide, a delicious ache creating a craving for more.

“Tell me how bad you want it, Mari, tell me how much you wanna have my baby.”

Joel’s gripping his length, rubbing his tip through your wet folds. The notches against your clit quiver the already stretched muscles in your thighs, whines replacing words coming out of your mouth.

“Tell me, or I won’t give you what you want, mi amor.”

“I want it so bad, J. I wanna feel you fuck me so full of you, and I don’t want that feeling to leave. I feel like there’s an emptiness and only you can fill it, I want your baby. Wanna have everyone know how good I am for you, carrying your baby like you want me to. I wanna have a part of you forever,” you gasp out the last word, Joel’s cock inching into you. Muscle memory takes over, your whole body relaxing with the knowledge that he’ll take care of you — he’ll always take care of you.

Joel bottoms out easily, filling you to the hilt before he pauses to take a breath. His eyes meet yours and he smiles, sweet and sincere, while holding your shins, “I fucking love you, mi Mariposa. Wanna give you a baby…”

“Pleasepleaseplease—” You don’t know if you’re begging more for him to give you what you want or to move his hips, but in the end, you get both. 

Joel starts out slow, shallow thrusts keeping him inside of you. Grunts from the controlled movements fill the room, your small whimpers following each noise he makes. The sound of him fucking into your cunt captures his attention, gaze zeroed in on where you two meet. Watching the stretch of your tight pussy around his cock, he feels the burning desire for more. To watch you take it deeper, harder.

The next snap of his hips is just that - smacking his skin against your ass before he adjusts, laying you back completely on the mattress and leaning over you. Your legs are still hooked over his shoulders, the burning of your muscles now straining your hamstrings and glutes. His entire body folds you, his head hovering over yours as he fucks into you further. The tip of his cock kisses your womb, the force of his thrusts driving your hips open more for him.

“Gonna — fuck — gonna make you a momma, Mariposa. That what you want? Get fucked so well, be so full of me that we make a baby? Everybody’s gonna know I treat my wife right. With your round belly…swollen—ah—swollen tits. Gonna be so beautiful, and so fucking sensitive everywhere.”

His words only add onto the feeling of his thick cock filling you up, nearly verging on too far and too much. Moans exhale on your lips, his name repeated like a chant with each harsh snap of him into you. Your hands scramble for purchase as his sheer power drives you up the mattress, sheets scratching against your bare back. One set of fingers dig into the meaty flesh of his shoulder, nails pressing crescent shapes like an iron-hot branding.

Above you, Joel studies how your mouth has fallen open, thoughts completely left your mind with how cockdrunk you are. He gingerly grips your chin, holding it to face him and commanding your eyes to his as he pants heavily.

“What d’you wanna make me, baby?” It’s only met with the sounds of his cock dragging in and out of you, the slap of skin as you gasp under him. “C’mon, Mari baby, use your words.”

“A daddy,” you breathe out, your opposite hand combing into his messy curls and gripping tight.

“Say it again. Dime.” Not thinking it was possible, Joel pushes you further, hitting into you harder with each thrust nudging his tip toward your cervix. You might only leave this afternoon with soreness, but you continued to hold out hope for a baby to be the well-worth prize for how you’re going to feel tomorrow.

“A daddy!”

“Dime. Dime. Dime,” he commands and you listen, writhing under him as he hacks away at your shared resolve, throwing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Daddy — oh, fuck, a daddy. Wanna make you a daddy!” You’re yelling at this point, sobs of pleasure wracking your body and you thank god for a split second that the two of you are home alone in the middle of the work day. Surely the whole block might be hearing all of your wanton sounds.

“God, I could get used to you calling me that, Mari baby,” Joel groans and throws his head back, bearing his teeth as he punches his hips into your clenching pussy, the telltale sign that you’re close.

“C’mon, mi amor, give it to me. Come for me and I’ll let your fucking pussy milk me for every last drop. That’s what you want, right? Gotta fill you up and make a baby for my Mari baby.” He’s rambling as you reach your peak, toes curling and coming even harder than your first one this afternoon. 

A near scream pulls itself from as deep as your gut, the sound as if you were in more pain than the absolute pleasure you feel. Your grip on his hair tightens, drawing him down for a messy kiss as you mumble against his lips.

“Please gimme a baby, J. Need it all inside of me, please. Come for me, mi esposo.” 

The name sends goosebumps across his shoulders and trickles down his spine before he’s barking your name once and spilling into you, painting your walls with each rope. He takes a moment to breathe before he gently presses his hips in a few short thrusts, fucking his spend as far into you as possible.

Joel collapses against your torso, no other efforts exerted to move away. Delicate, nimble touches brush the hair from his sweaty forehead, rubbing his shoulders as he hums contently.

“Fuck, baby, might just have to stay inside. Keep you plugged up so I can stay here all day with you.” Quiet, breathless laughter leaves your lips as you shake your head, tracing along his jaw before he turns his head to press his lips into your tummy.

“Can’t wait for you to be a momma. Gonna be the best one ever, y’already are. Love you so much.”

The two of you lay like that for what feels like hours, only to be reminded of Joel’s limited schedule when his cell starts ringing from downstairs. Getting up with a groan, he slips out of you and lifts your hips, stuffing a pillow or two underneath them to keep your lower half elevated. You roll your eyes at the superstitious gesture, gasping when his fingers push into you once more to put his leaking come back into where it belongs.

“Gotta make sure it takes, pretty girl. Wanna see you get all round with my baby in you. Everybody’ll know how good I am to you, huh? Pumping you full of me so much we made a new fucking life…better stay like this until I get home again, Mari baby. Wanna make sure those lil swimmers get all the help they can get.”

“Mm…” you hum, hands grabbing for him to lean over you again. Sneaking a kiss, you pull away to whisper to him with a grin on your lips, “Better get back to work…daddy.”

He snorts out a laugh, beaming a bright smile as mischief glimmers in his eyes, “Mal. Mala chica. (Bad. Bad girl.)”

Three days late. You’ve been tracking your cycle like a mad woman, ticking off days in the notebook next to your bed, and now you’re officially three days late. Joel and you had agreed to wait a few days after you expected your period, hopeful that the extra time meant a more accurate, and desired, result.

The kitchen timer sitting on Joel’s side of the bed ticks away while you side on the edge of the bed. Tapping your fingers against your thighs, bare skin against your fingertips from the high hem of your denim shorts. Joel paces the room, eyes focused a thousand yards ahead. Anxiety and anticipation had been plaguing both of you all day, work slugging by minute by minute, second by second. Joel had left the jobsite as soon as was acceptable, leaving Tommy to wrap up, and swung by the pharmacy to pick up a new box of tests. Your task for the day was to chug water, or any liquid, all afternoon — by the time Joel was one foot through the door, you were ready to burst. Snatching the bag of tests out of his hand, you ran to the bathroom to pee in a plastic disposable cup and stick at least three tests in.

Now, you two are waiting for more seconds and minutes to tick by, added to the tally of the entire day. As you’re about to stand and stop Joel from burning treads in the area rug from walking his tight circles, a trill of a bell vibrating demands your attention. Turning off the noise in a flash, you stand and cross the room to where your husband is now frozen in place. A gentle touch to his cheek, his eyelids flutter close and he takes a long exhale before opening them again.

“Ready?” you ask, uncertainty pitching your voice up.

A minute nod, one shake of his chin, Joel’s hand finds the small of your back as he responds, “Ready, mi amor.”

His hand guides you into the bathroom, and a handful of steps from the three tests laid out on the counter, you turn around, panic twisting your expression. Joel stumbles to stop his collision with you, large palms grabbing onto your biceps to catch himself.

“M’scared, J…” Your voice is meek, cracking with emotion. This is the last shot you gave yourselves, whatever is laid on the counter either means unbridled joy or a long road of poking and prodding in countless doctors’ offices.

The warmth of his hands rubbing your arms and the press of his lips to your forehead coax you to relax, to take deep breaths, “I know, Mari baby, I would be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t scared too. But no matter what is on those tests, we’re in it together, right sweet girl?”

His index finger hooks under your chin to draw your attention up to his face, a small smile filled with love and reassurance stretching his lips.

“Always in it together, J.” You take another deep breath, turning around and nodding shortly, “Okay, now m’ready.”

“That’s my girl,” he mumbles before he’s following right behind you again, the two of you pressing yourselves to each other against the counter. Joel has an iron grip on your hips, nerves manifesting in the squeezes of his hands. Shaking fingers turn over each test before picking them all up to your lines of vision.

Two lines. Two bold lines screaming at both of you, across all three tests.

Positive.

Positive. You’re pregnant. You and Joel are having a baby.

“Holy shit…” Joel exhales behind you, smile creeping into his voice. Somehow, his grip gets even tighter as he turns you around, “Holy shit! You’re pregnant, Mari. We’re havin’ a baby! You’re gonna be a momma!”

Giddiness overcomes both of you, happy and disbelieving laughter while you hold each other in a tight embrace. Joel litters kisses around your face, catching your lips last — all teeth and tight lipped from your matching grins.

“You’re gonna be a dad again, how’s that feel?”

“Like I won the damn lottery, mi amor.”

Another kiss, supple and heavy. Joel pulls away first and shakes his head, pressing his forehead to yours, “I love you so fucking much, Mari.”

“I love you too, J.”

“You ready to go, Sare?” you ask, standing next to her seat at the kitchen table where she’s working away at her homework, reaching a hand out to play with her curls. She smiles and nods, writing down one last answer to a question on her worksheet before she lays her pencil down and stands up, rushing over toward the door.

“Just gotta get my shoes on!” she calls out, and you smile, shaking your head.

“Take your time, sweet pea! God knows it’s gonna take me longer to walk over to the door.” Your joke falls on deaf ears of your husband, who stands at the kitchen island and rolls his eyes before he’s crossing the room over to you. Within arm’s length, his hands cup the bottom of your large belly, leaning in for a sweet peck.

“Nobody cares if you move slow. Better to be careful than—”

“Careless, yes, I know. I think those might be our baby’s first words since they hear them so much from their dad,” you tease and he shrugs, kissing you again while his touch wanders across the flannel of his that you’re sporting, too tired to buy more maternity clothes that you’ll grow out of and opting for his closet every morning.

“Jus’ looking out for my girls. All three of ‘em.” He beams proudly, brown eyes shining brightly before he turns you in his arms, accompanying you to the front door where your near-teenager is waiting. Ever the sweetheart she is, she’s got your purse slung on her shoulder, car keys in hand to pass off to you. You thank her quietly, turning back to Joel as he looks between the two of you.

“Alright, have fun with your girls’ day. And call if you need anything — either of you. I’ll be waitin’ here for ya.” Joel smooths down Sarah’s hair before kissing the crown of her head; she squirms away, the teenage attitude rearing its head in some early moments, especially with her dad. There’s less patience for him, which you completely understand as a teenage girl once yourself. He huffs out a sigh as she slips out the door, heading down the front path toward your car.

“Hey, s’nothing. Teenage girl things. She loves you, and you’re the best dad.” A hand on his cheek coaxes him down to your lips, a supple kiss exchanged before he pulls away and bends to kiss the top of your belly.

“Bye, my little June Bug.” He stands upright again and steals another kiss, mumbling, “And bye, mi Mariposa. Drive safe, let me know if you need anything while you’re out. I love you.”

“We love you too. And m’speaking for the moody one, too.” Joel chuckles and rubs your bump once more before sending you on your way, watching and waving from the door as y’all drive away.

The plan for today had come about when you started to notice Sarah growing quieter, retreating to her room more often after family dinners and denying the chance at movie night some days. Joel had noticed too, but was a bit nervous to broach it with her, not wanting to make her feel bad about being more independent.

Your relationship with her though was much different to Joel’s. There was the foundation of your caretaking role with her, much more of a friend with authority when it was only you two before you were anything close to a parental figure. More open and, well, you could relate more to what she was going through. She confided in you first about girls at school being catty, about her growing crushes on boys in her grade. And this year, only a month after your due date, she will officially become a teenager. It was a strange time in any girl’s life, full of growing pains.

And on top of all of that, add on a new baby arriving. Attentions drawn elsewhere, priorities shifted to preparing for the baby. Sarah never fell to the backburner in your minds, but you didn’t know how she was feeling. Guessing by her quiet actions, you could tell she was feeling left out but didn’t want to stir up trouble.

Always the sweet girl. And you knew how that was.

So, you’d asked her for a girls’ day, excluding her dad from the fun and giving both of you some time with each other to feel like it was years before. It was all about Sarah today, no mentions of baby — no buying diapers or supplies or clothes. A promise made to yourself to make Sarah feel special, because that is exactly what she was. The baby on the way may be your first biological child, but nothing can compare to the unique bond that you have with your Sare Bear.

The day was spent waddling throughout the mall, helping her pick out new outfits and shoes for the end of the school year. Collecting a haul, you two stopped off for lunch and a trip to the nail salon before you finally made your way back home in the evening. Sarah was smiling brightly in the passenger seat, joking around with you and eagerly telling you all about the latest school drama. Your heart was about to burst with how much she’d come out of her shell again all day, even wanting to show off her new things to her dad when you both got back.

In the living room, Joel greets you two from the couch, eyes widening and a low whistle leaving his lips when he sees the damage done, “Quite some shoppin’ there, Bug. Y’all buy out the whole store?”

You wave him off and encourage Sarah to show off her haul, walking over to settle onto the sofa next to Joel. The younger Miller excitedly starts pulling out pieces and showcasing them, excitedly telling her dad exactly where she plans to wear them. His hand rests on your leg, attention completely focused on his daughter in front of him, squeezing you gently when she gets particularly worked up over something. You can tell he feels what you were in the car, heart bursting that she seems like herself again after a day spent with you.

“That’s nice, Sare Bear. I like the color,” Joel comments on the last shirt Sarah holds up, her smile still beaming as she tosses it back into the bag.

“Thanks, Mom actually picked it out! I thought it would be fun to have for camp this year, since I’m gonna start the counselor training program…” Her voice trails off as Joel listens intently. You, on the other hand, take deep breaths to hold it together, the simple moniker rolling off of Sarah’s tongue so naturally. Your heartbeat thumps in your chest, and baby Miller kicks her feet against your tummy — equally as excited.

You manage to keep it calm while Sarah recaps the rest of the day before she gathers up her shopping bags to take to her room. As she’s leaving the room, she’s quick to run over and give you a hug, leaning down to meet you where you sit on the couch. Your belly sticks out between the two of you, but regardless you pull her into a tight squeeze as she says thank you. Her curls bounce as she scampers off upstairs, the quiet sounds of her feet in the hallway queuing your watery eyes to overflow and for your nose to sniffle. Joel is grinning brightly next to you, pulling you into his lap and holding you against him as he wipes the few happy tears away.

“She called me Mom…” you whisper to your husband, afraid to admit it any louder as if it would disappear.

Joel presses his forehead against yours, a sweet kiss against your lips before he whispers back, “You have no idea how happy it makes me to know she feels that way about you.”

“I just…I feel so lucky. And maybe it’s hormones, but oh my god, I can’t stop blubbering. I’m a mom.”

“You’re the best mom. Have been to Sarah since she met you, and you’re going to be the best mom to our little one on the way.”

June 21st, 2009.

The first day of summer.

It’s the first day of summer and you’re stuck inside. Not at home, no, you’re currently propped up in a hospital bed with your legs in stir-ups, breathing in between contractions. Exhaustion weighs on your body, a full hour passing of you pushing in time with the pain in your abdomen that radiates all over. Sweat sticks your hair to your forehead and Joel sitting next to you brushes it out of the way. His other hand is limp in yours, ready to be squeezed with a vice grip whenever you need to push. Joel leans over you in level with your head, lathering on encouragements.

“You got this, Mari.”

“So strong, baby. You can do it.”

“Thank you, mi amor, thank you thank you thank you.”

The last one comes after a string of complaints against him doing this to you — despite you both knowing you begged for it nine months prior — and for having such a big head in his own baby photos that he had to have passed down to the baby.

Another wave kicks in, your doctor and nurses coaching you to give another final push. Putting every last bit of your energy behind the flex of your muscles, groaning out with pain and frustration before a piercing cry fills the room. Heavy, tiny sobs ring in your ears.

“You did it, baby, m’so proud of you. Our little girl,” Joel says in awe, glancing between you and where the doctor holds your little baby girl, summoning Dad over to cut the cord. 

She’s taken away to be cleaned up and Joel returns to your side, ready to help you attentively through the afterbirth. You wave him off, begging him to go keep an eye on your little girl. Once she’s clean enough, the nurses lay her on your bare chest, the sight of her tiny fingers and toes bringing about your own cries. Your hands hold her there, delicate touches brushing against her soft skin and her damp but full head of dark brown hair.

The rest of the process is painful but smoother, shorter. Before you know it, all tests are done and Joel is next to the bed again, wiping a damp cloth across your forehead.

A rush of adrenaline, pure unfiltered need and excitement to meet your daughter keeps you awake, sitting up carefully as you accept her into your arms from your husband who’s wearing the biggest smile. He sits on the edge of the bed, hand on your leg as you study the features on her small face.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she, Mari? Looks like her momma.”

You beam, shaking your head as you place a fingertip against her nose, “See, I think she looks like her daddy. Already got the grumpy brow.”

Both of you laugh, your unbridled attention on the tiny bundle in your arms as you gush over her for minutes longer. Joel rubs your leg, drawing your eyes up to him as he asks, “So you think we picked a good name?”

“I think we picked a perfect name. Our ‘S’ girls,” you grin at him before looking down at your little girl, “Skye Isla Miller. I think it suits her perfectly.”

A bit more time is spent between only the two of you and Skye before you’re itching to see your eldest, and for her to meet her little sister. Joel retreats to where Sarah’s in the waiting area with Tommy and Maria, who’s now three months pregnant herself, waving her to come back with him. She nervously enters the room, quiet as a mouse until you reassure her with a smile and welcome her to sit in the bed next to you.

Joel makes the introductions, voice thick with emotion as he stands over his three girls, watching as his first little one meets his second, “Sarah Elena, this is your baby sister, Skye Isla.”

Sarah quietly asks permission to hold her; you lay Skye in her arms carefully, teaching her how to support her head and where to avoid her soft spot. Sarah picks up on it like a natural, adjusting her little sister when she fusses a bit, finally settling into a new set of familiar hands.

“Dad said you did a really good job, Mom. With everything today. S’pretty cool that you brought a whole person into the world…” Sarah glances over at you with a shy smile before addressing both you and Joel, “M’really happy she’s here.”

“You’re gonna be a great big sister, Bug,” Joel beams with pride as he squeezes her shoulder, leaning over to press a kiss to the crown of your head. He hums as he looks over you three, “Got my Mariposa, my Bug, and my little June Bug. Mi maripositas. Don’t think anything could beat seeing my three girls altogether finally.”

You find yourself observing your family from afar, listening with muffled ears as Joel and Sarah chat about who Skye got what features from. Cheeks aching from smiling, you can’t help but think that this summer was off to the most wonderful start, and that every summer after was only going to get better. 

taglist: @beskarandblasters @undrthelights @swiftispunk @joelsversion @asirenbyanyothername @ellenmunn @ja-ehyun @sw33tp1xie @marisemonteiroo @brunetteeras @bongsrconfusing @addictedtotlou @angie2274 @pedrostories @pedroholic @theelishad @johnwatsn @elissa @felicityofbakerstreet @atinylittlepain @northernbluess @cannolighost @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @anoverwhelmingdin @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @planet-marz1 @kiwisbell @lizzie-cakes

[poppy-metal]

mrs failmarriage au reader is so bratty and so toxic i am HUNGRY for any morsel of idea that come to your mind when you think of her and patartashi’s inevitable reconnection and proper establishing of the polycule like.

theyre gonna reaffirm her and squash her fears for sure but i believe they should take it out on her little pussy for the sheer amounts of sexual frustration everyone’s facing . it would be euphoric for her to be accepted and finally SEEN by art but also by the two closest ppl orbiting their lives. to share in the lust and mutual desire she would have nowhere left to (emotionally)run. i think abt this au so often poppy thank you for being so open to chat abt it!!!

also imagining art confronting her and patrick abt her secret w/ patrick bc WOW finding tht out must have fucking stung him. the text tashi sent her…so sad but so sexy.

reader is really her own worst enemy here preventing herself from having what she wants and needs when she could just reopen her heart (and legs) to the marriage and polycule.

ooh! does art even try to put himself out there to “”move on”” (delusions!) or make reader jealous pike she did to him by posting on insta? or is that just impossible for him bc he’s so lovesick.

bc i LOVE the idea of that forcing reader to realise how hypocritical her own territorial nature is. plus feeling winded when she realizes the type of rage-worry-sadness she feels abt his random tinder date is clearer cut than her feelings abt art with patashi (aka she realises she trusts patashi with art in her absence during the separation. but is fuming at the idea of another person outside of patashi) lol reader is so meeeee. so twisty 😂😭 babygirl pls go to solo therapy and work thru ur neuroses and hangups the loves of your life are waiting for you!!!

lmfao imagine art having to still compete in a tennis open under these conditions 😭😭

i love when you guys send me messages like this like YESSSSSS let my little au consume you let it become worms in your brain.

art probably retired from tennis a few years ago - he didn't feel the need to push himself to continue playing - you dont play tennis, so he doesn't have that pressure to appease you - but he still plays it for fun, i imagine. especially with patrick and tashi (in this au tashi never got injured so shes probably a pro player still. patrick too.(( you watch their matches secretly))

i also doubt art would try dating because he really has no interest in anyone outside of the polycule and hes such a loverboy at heart he'd be terrible at even acting like he was with someone else - tashi might set up a situation where it looks like hes on a date, just to get readers attention, though. and reader would definitely kick and scream over that notion. at least with patashi she knows art is connected to her still.

[sensitiveheartless]

Every once in a while I am compelled to read your anon fic from beginning to end, and I love it as much as the first time! For what could have just been a smutty crack fic, you’ve put in so much angst and feels and I love that the most about it. Even though the smut is really fun, I read it solely for the hurt/comfort sometimes. It feels like a slightly divergent AU of the skyline pigeon fic, if you get what i’m saying. Dazai trying to stop Chuuya from destroying himself at the PM… will you update it soon? Im really looking forward to the thrilling conclusion!

(For anyone unsure of what this is referring to, I mentioned the anon fic in the middle of this ask from a while back)

Awwh!! Thank you, that's so nice! Yeah that fic really got away from me and turned into a way more sincere and emotion-heavy plot than I initially intended — I guess that's kind of inevitable with all Chuuya-leaves-the-PM fics, because it canonically takes a LOT to pry Chuuya away from protecting people he cares about (see the "he never stopped trying to protect the Sheep even after they literally stabbed him in the back" part of canon). Also you're right on with it being a divergent version of the Skyline Pigeon fic — I tend to think of the pigeon fic as the "what if Dazai didn't get Chuuya out before he fully broke" version of the anon fic :0

But yeah the anon fic initially started as a thought of "I want to write skk being domestic and goofy but I kind of want it to be in Dazai's dorm room because the idea of Chuuya settling in there is very fun and soft to me" which led to "Okay but why would Chuuya be living with Dazai and not in his own apartment?" which led to "What if Chuuya left the Port Mafia" which led to "but how the heck would he be convinced to do that" which led to "what if Dazai tried to seduce Chuuya into leaving" and then that thought was so funny to me that I had to write it

And then it grew ✨a lot of emotions✨

Anyway! All that said, I do plan on updating it soon! Along with the Skyline Pigeon fic — I've been able to work on both fics a lot more recently, after having a massive mental block on them for a while aksfjksdjf (And after that I may actually write the intended domestic fluff of skk living together lol)

[slytherinshua]

DEATH OF A BROKEN HEART

genre. angst. soulmate au. warnings. heartbreak and major character death. pairing. leehan x fem!reader. wc. 524. request. requested by @hyunhanie: could you pleaseee do an angsty fic with Leehan?? Like idk about what in particular,but please something dramatic!! a/n. sry for this being so late but i hope you like it!! ik its not very long-- originally i was going to write a leehan hanahaki au but that kind of got forgotten in my drafts for a bit :( i just whipped this up cause i had angsty ideas from the trailer film that i still can't stop rewatching skdjks lol. original gif by @/foamofyouth and i just put the text over <3

Donghyun let a string of curses leave his mouth when he heard the robotic tone of the voice message rejecting his call for the 10th time that night. He wasn’t sure what else to do. Cry, shout, scream? All those options had already been expended. And so he let foul words slip from his pretty lips into the cool air of the bathroom; words he would never ever have imagined being directed towards you.

You were so precious to him. Or, at least, you had been.

72 hours. 28 missed calls. 2 broken promises. 1 burning soul mark.

Donghyun had been lied to by the whole world. He sunk to the floor as the weight of it all hit him, the sting on his wrist getting more extreme the farther you were from him. He pressed down on it with one hand, dropping his phone as he curled into a tighter ball from the pain. No amount of pressure would ever relieve it. There was no medication he could take. He just had to wait.

If you were his soulmate then how did it go wrong? It wasn’t supposed to be able to go wrong. Soulmates were supposed to be perfect for each other. 

But you had switched faster than Donghyun could blink. 4 days ago you had been planning your future together, and now here he was abandoned by the only person he had ever trusted.

You were running away from him, he knew that much. There was no other explanation for why it burned so much. Soul marks only hurt when your soulmate left you for good. It was a pain that you were only supposed to feel when they died.

You weren’t dead.

You weren’t supposed to leave.

Donghyun knew that he would never get the answers to his millions of questions. He had no way to reach you, no way to demand an explanation from your lips. Not that he would last 1 second in your presence again. He broke so easily, wrapped tightly around your finger even when you had left his heart broken and bleeding on the cold tile floor. 

He would never get you back, and by virtue of it, he would never love again. No one would love someone abandoned by their own soulmate, especially when he had no defense.

Donghyun let his eyes flutter closed, breathing a few soft breaths of fresh air as he let his mind wander over memories one last time. The grips of death fingered at his clothes, creeping ever closer, trying to grab hold of his heart. 

And he let it.

There was no reason to resist anymore; no motive for prolonging the inevitable. 

A shaky breath left his soft lips, and one final tear formed on his lash line. It wasn’t out of anger or hatred for you and your actions, but full of regret and longing for one more chance. If he could restart time and do it all over again, he would in a heartbeat. 

That was his weakness. That was what made him all the more vulnerable to the soulmate phenomenon; death of a broken heart.

↳ boynextdoor taglist: @rizzshimura,, @captivq,, @icyminghao,, @eternalgyu,, @metalchick529,, @schmocolateschmchip,, @kpoprhia,, @candewlsy,, @weird-bookworm,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @snowflakemoon3,, @lovialy,, @lecheugo,, @okshu,, @wccycc,, @seunghancore

[photogirl894]

You probably know where the inspiration for this one comes from, but can I pretty please request a Hunter x Reader with the line “I’d rather share one short life with you than spend my whole life alone, " possibly in a fantasy AU where Hunter is a knight and reader is a princess??

Congratulations on 1300 followers, lovey!

Girl, you know the quickest way to my heart! Give me Hunter AND Aragorn?? YES!! 🥰 Glad you caught where that line prompt came from lol I just re-worded it a little differently.

I can definitely do a fantasy AU for you, my sweet Liz 💜🥰

"Heart of a Man"

7. “I’d rather share one short life with you than spend my whole life alone.”

Pairing: Hunter x Princess reader (Fantasy AU)

***

As a Princess, you were not afforded the luxury of love. Your older brother was next in line for the throne, so you didn't have to worry about the pressure of being Queen one day and finding a suitable spouse to rule with. However, you were expected by your parents, the King and Queen, to enter a political marriage with the Prince of another kingdom to secure an alliance between your kingdom and his. You didn't want to be forced into something like that, but you were a Princess; therefore, it was your duty.

You especially didn't want to go through with the marriage because your heart already belonged to someone else...someone you unfortunately could not be with.

His name was Hunter and he was the Captain of the Kingsguard. He was the one your father always entrusted with your safety when you traveled to other kingdoms or needed security or an escort somewhere. When you spent so much time with the Captain, it was almost inevitable that you would fall for him. Especially when he was handsome beyond compare with his long, dark hair and a skull tattoo on half of his face; a mark of the tribe of people he hailed from. Even the most handsome Prince in all the world that every maiden fawned over would not rival the Captain. Not by a long road. He was also noble, loyal, brave and incredibly kind. Even though he was loyal to the King and tried to abide by his sworn duty to protect you, he couldn't deny his true feelings either and had fallen for you, too.

After one particular trip, when you had almost been assassinated and the Captain had saved your life by putting himself between you and the attacker, you had let your feelings slip by kissing him when you were alone in the medical room. The both of you had suspected there was something more between you, but had chosen to not act on your feelings so as to not put yourselves in compromising positions. That day, though, when you thought you'd almost lost him, you decided duties be damned. Even if it was just the once.

It was that day that changed everything. Your tender kiss was what caused a shift in the Captain's heart...a shift so great that one night, at a grand ball; the one where you were supposed to announce your engagement to the Prince, even, he came to you with an offer that greatly surprised you.

The feast was over and everyone in attendance was mingling or dancing. Your parents were talking with the Prince's parents and the Prince was trying to talk to you, too, but you weren't really in a mood. You hated that you were even at this ball to begin with. Luckily, Hunter came to your rescue, telling you he had some urgent business to discuss with you, which gave you the excuse to take your leave of the Prince.

He led you to the secluded gardens out on the grounds of the castle and once he was sure the two of you were out of sight from any patrols or royals, he took you in his arms and kissed you with such overwhelming passion that you immediately couldn't help but reciprocate.

"Was this your urgent business, Captain?" you asked between kisses.

"Yes and no," he answered, "but I will get to it in a moment."

You pulled away and hugged him around his waist, burying your face in his chest. "I don't want to go through with this," you told him, your voice quivering as you felt his hand smooth your hair. "I don't want to be with the Prince. I want to be with you. If I marry the Prince, I'll be taken away to his kingdom and I'll never see you again. I don't know if my heart could bear it."

Tears fell from your eyes and onto his armor. For a short moment, he said nothing, but when he did, he said something that you didn't anticipate:

"Then run away with me."

Stunned, you lifted your head to look at him, his brown eyes almost glowing in the moonlight as he looked down lovingly at you.

"I can't deny myself of this any longer," he told you. "My heart as a man has overcome my duty as a knight...and I have fallen deeply in love with you, my Princess."

You lightly gasped in both surprise and delight. He swore he would not shirk his duty as the Captain and that he would not compromise you that way for your safety...but now, it appeared that he was forgoing that vow.

"I can't bear the thought of you marrying the Prince either," he continued. He reached down and took your hands in his. "Run away with me and marry me, Princess. We can go anywhere, just us, and be together as we desire." He brought your hands to his lips and kissed your knuckles, showing his heartfelt devotion to you. “I’d rather share one short life with you than spend my whole life alone. Come with me...tonight...please, (Y/N)."

Never in all the time you'd known him had he ever addressed you by just your name. It was always formalities such as "Princess", "your Highness" or "my lady". That proved to you how incredibly serious he was about this proposal...and you thought your heart would burst with all-consuming joy.

"Yes!" you quietly exclaimed. "Yes, I will go with you and I will marry you! Yes!"

You threw all caution to the wind and jumped up on him, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him happily. He stumbled back slightly from the impact, but he held you in place against him as he kissed you in return.

When he set you back to the ground, he kept going, "I only have a bit of money to my name and I don't have a ring for you yet, but I can offer you my heart and my undying devotion. My duty to you remains the same: I will do everything in my power to protect you and to make you happy. I will love you for the rest of my days and beyond."

"I don't need anything else," you reassured him, your hand coming up to his cheek. "I only need my beloved Captain and the love he gives. That alone makes me richer as a woman than being a Princess ever did."

With a sigh of both relief and love, Hunter turned and pressed his lips to your palm.

"I love you so much," you told him.

"And I love you," he replied. "More than I can ever put into words."

"When do we leave...Hunter?" you asked with a smile, his name sweet as honey on your tongue.

"We can leave this very moment, if you wish," he answered.

"Then what are we waiting for, my love? Our future awaits."

Photogirl894's Fluff/Romance prompts

Photogirl894's 1,300 Followers celebration fics

[yaksha-lover]

I can't really put it together coherently, but I've been thinking about reincarnation in the vampire AU where you knew one of the guys in a past life and years later they find you again or something abdghsbe

I feel like Malleus would work best for it but I may be biased lol. Or maybe Leona taking a while to figure out why your personality feels so familiar only to realise when, idk, Cater or someone is gushing about the romance of a reincarnation plot in a trendy book/movie lol.

Ahh, yess I love this concept sm

Immortal Vampire!Malleus who’s forced to find his mortal lover every time they get reincarnated.

Sometimes it takes hundreds of years for him to find you again, but he always does. You’ve told him he doesn’t need to wait for you, but he refuses to consider the thought of being with anyone else while he waits to find you again. You don’t have your old memories - not exactly - but even so, you feel a natural pull towards him.

Malleus prefers not to tell you that you were lovers in your past life. No matter what happened in the past, he doesn’t want you to feel stuck with him just because of your history. Inevitably, as fate goes, you fall for him time and time again.

You can’t help but believe him entirely when he tells you about your past together, and you happily wish to spend the rest of your life (and all your future ones) with him.

Immortal Vampire!Leona who’s become increasingly apathetic and bitter ever since his mortal lover’s death.

With you, Leona had finally started to care about something again, to find purpose in his life. All of that disappears once you’re gone, and Leona is angry about it. He’s frustrated with himself for falling in love with a human, he’s angry at the world for making you mortal.

A couple hundred years after your death, a new resident is invited to the mansion. Leona is annoyed by them at first, ignoring their presence entirely. But, just like you had before, this new person doesn’t give up and, despite his best efforts, gets him to start to open up again.

He’s noticed the similarities between you and them, but he believes he’s just projecting until he’s forced to listen to another one of Cater’s rambles about a reincarnation romance drama that he’d just seen. It makes him pause - would it truly be possible that fate had brought you two together again?

Leona doesn’t want to allow himself to believe it’s true, but he can’t help his hopefulness. When he asks for Lilia’s help, he’s able to restore some of your old memories, and Leona silently vows to find you forever; that becomes his new purpose.

[grapenehifics]

Rotating the Obikin Lighthouse Fake-Married AU in my brain 🤔 Forgive me, I’m about to throw a lot of ideas at you because my plot brain is a mess lol.

So, I’m thinking this world but in the 1950’s to make them suitably cut off from the rest of the world and to enable some backstory for them both from WWII. Obi-Wan has already been a keeper of the lighthouse for two years now unaccompanied, but in the fall the owners of the house send him a letter requiring him to marry or else he’ll be fired in favor of an already wed keeper. Panicking, he writes a letter to the local town’s paper requesting an ad to be put out looking for a spouse/assistant keeper.

Anakin within this AU is desperate for a job due to backstory I haven’t thought of yet lol and looks through the newspaper ads to find Obi-Wan’s, and although marrying a stranger and working on a tiny island tending a lighthouse doesn’t sound like his thing, he immediately writes back for the promise of free room and board for six months.

Their first meeting is their wedding, officiated on the seaside dock of the island right after Anakin gets off the boat. From there, the fic would go through their awkward first few weeks, their conflict with one another confined to such a small space, then their budding friendship when they recognize themselves in one another.

I think the smut/romance would naturally come about in the winter, when they have to spend nearly every minute inside lest they freeze in the ocean’s icy mist. Would definitely feature cuddling for warmth, fireside bonding, sleeping in the same bed on the coldest nights 👀 I can just imagine all the kinky shit they’d get up to on a remote island the second the dam broke between them lmaooo

Happy ending is they eventually save up enough money and buy their own lighthouse as a proper couple

Sorry for the unsolicited idea dump! Ignore me if you’re not into it hahaha just had to throw my sudden plot around the AU somewhere!

OMG YES THIS EXACTLY this is what I was picturing too!!

Anakin could be having a hard time readjusting to life post-war that makes it difficult for him to hold down a steady job? PTSD, and/or that's where he lost an arm and that's been a tough transition? (Or employers simply look at him and *assume* he won't be able to do the job, even though he's perfectly capable.)

Their first few weeks together would be SO awkward and uncomfortable! Neither are very talkative or forthcoming so they just sort of...sit and stew, haha. Until one of them makes the other laugh and they learn to have a normal conversation :)

And then you had me at cuddling for warmth. The aesthetics of this is amazing. Fireplaces, warm blankets, hot tea...when they do have to go outside to work, they'll inevitably get soaked to the bone in a storm and need the other to get them out of their wet clothes, dry them off and warm them up!!

And sooooo much privacy; they can be as loud as they want together all the way out there, and have sex in every room of that lighthouse whenever they feel like it ;) (a.k.a. often) (The next owners might not love that part so much...)

EXTREMELY into this and would gladly read more of this anytime!! ♥♥♥ Thank you for running with this fun prompt!!

[concreteburialplot]

Cool About It // 02

02 - Scott Street

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x OFC [Amelia]

Masterlist: here | Crossposted: ao3 | Word count: 9k

Warnings; childhood best friends, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of past character deaths, being drunk, feelings panic, secrets, lots of flashbacks + lore, REMINDER: this is set in the winter lol sorry, 18+ MDNI

Summary; Amelia agrees to a midnight adventure with Noah in the hopes of getting answers to a decade’s worth of questions. Nicholas, Noah and Amelia then find themselves caught up in a game that fills them with nostalgia.

a/n: this is au, fictional, and follows no actual timelines/events, and uses oc's for family members. noah & nick are the same age here.

thanks to @sacredthefran for helping me edit this chapter 💞

don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

Do you feel ashamed,

When you hear my name?

Anyway, don’t be a stranger

Anyway, don’t be a stranger

Don’t be a stranger

- Scott Street // Phoebe Bridgers

The days after Amelia and Noah’s reunion began a thread of texts back and forth between the two – catching up on things that you miss within a 10 year separation like music they’ve discovered over the years, memes, stories from Noah’s tours or Amelia’s time in college, all in tandem with random occurrences that happened throughout the day. Noah was hungry for any information she spilled and soaked it right up like a sponge. 

He’s just bored – Amelia thought – big rock star from LA probably bored out of his mind bouncing from Vincent’s or the Ruffilos’ couch. She didn’t find herself particularly entertaining or interesting, it absolutely had to be his boredom that was fueling their reignited friendship. She was convinced that once he flies back to California with Nicholas that she’d dissolve back into the sky like a flickering star inevitably burning out. However, she intended to bask in the attention and fleeting nostalgia he gave her for as long as she could.

She too was thirsty for knowledge, asking so many questions that it was almost hard for him to keep up. The need to relearn him was too strong. She was curious about everything - the band, touring, recording, it was all so interesting to her compared to her tiny life in a snowglobe of a town.

There was a topic that Amelia had always wondered about over the years – his abrupt departure from their town in the middle of junior year. Her curiosity was just as strong then, asking too many questions that landed her in conversations thickly outlined with stern words and excuses. Not even Nicholas or his family would divulge the information. Not getting any knowledge, not even whispers about the situation in such a small town was odd. If it was one thing Amelia absolutely hated, it was being out of the loop and uninformed. Over time the mystery dissolved into a weird thing of the past, eventually getting overwritten by college exams, new friends, and different jobs, until Noah stepped back into her present. 

Now, Amelia had the opportunity to get the answers she had been seeking directly from the source. She just didn’t know how. She knew it had to be a sensitive topic with the amount of secrecy around the event and the fact that he hadn’t even returned home when his parents passed. It was hard for her to not steep in curiosity now that he’s made an appearance for the first time in years since then.

Amelia was snuggled up on her couch with a warm blanket and a cup of hot cocoa, accompanied with an entire bag of marshmallows to replenish as she drank. She nearly jolted out of her skin and choked on a mallow when her phone abruptly rattled against the coffee table. Her brows furrowed wondering who on earth could be calling her so late.

She picked up the device to read Noah’s name lit up across the screen. Her finger slid across the glass before putting it up to her ear. “Hello?” She pulled her shoulder up to support her phone while her hand rifled through the marshmallows to grab a couple and dropped them into the mug. The steaming liquid immediately began dissolving the sugary puffs.

“Scout!” Noah greeted cheerily.

“Hey?” She replied cautiously, “What’s up?”

“Whatcha doin’ right now?” His tone indicating that he might have an impeding invitation.

“Um…” She looked down at the mug clasped in her hand then towards the tv that was playing Little Women in the background. “Pretty high-level stuff actually.”

“Weeeeeelllll,” He dragged out the word, “Would you wanna ditch your ‘high-level’ stuff for a night adventure?”

Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip mulling over his offer, then pulled her phone from her ear momentarily to check the time. “Noah, it’s 11 pm!”

“Soooooo? The night is young!”

She sighed a little, saying no to him was never her strong suit. “What were you thinking?” She asked, entertaining the idea for a moment.

“Hm…. Some wine? Some good ol’ fashion meandering?”

She chuckled at his word choice, “Meandering?” Her thumb grazed over a missing chip in her snowman-shaped mug.

“Meandering!” He repeated as if it was an obvious and normal suggestion.

A soft huff left her lips, “Fine. But we can’t be out too late.”

“Whatever you say grandma.” He teased and she could hear the smile tugging at his lips as he spoke.

“Hey!”

“Sorrrryyy.” He hummed into the speaker, “Just meet me at the skatepark, okay?”

She agreed and ended the call with him, falling back into the cushion supporting her. She laid her phone flat on her chest, taking a moment just staring at the ceiling. The hollows of her ribs filled with an anxious feeling, something not quite like butterflies but more akin to moths. Amelia had always been drawn to Noah like a moth to a flame. He burned so bright that it singed anything and anyone around him. If you wanted to stay close to him, you needed to master the art of resilience. The one she saw navigate it the best was Nicholas; it was like the fire never even affected him. He wasn’t necessarily a moth to Noah’s flame, but rather a firefly – someone who comfortably hovered in his warmth, soaking it in for what it was, all while glowing a joyous, blinding brilliance of his own right alongside Noah. They complimented each other perfectly, like puzzle pieces created in a factory, made to live next to each other forever. If there was anyone who loved Noah more than Amelia, it was definitely Nicholas.

It suddenly dawned on her that she’d supposed to be getting ready the entire time she’d been lost in her thoughts. She sat her mug down on the coffee table and jumped to her feet, just then realizing she had no idea what to wear to an abandoned skate park at midnight. 

After going back and forth on how she should dress, she decided to prioritize comfort over casual. She threw on some dark joggers with a cream-colored crewneck that had a small teddy bear embroidered on the upper left side. She stopped by her front door to check herself in the mirror that hung above a coat rack. Her finger roughly slid up the corner of her eye to wipe away the mascara that had fallen throughout the day. A sigh escaped her when she fully took in her own appearance. While she had no idea what sort of girls Noah dated after he left, she could only imagine. Visions of stereotypical LA girls suddenly filled her head and stole a bit of her excitement of going to see him. It had to be some fucked up super power that came with being a woman - the ability to pinpoint at least 3 things to be unhappy with within a split second. Her eyes focused on her lips that weren’t overly full with filler, then her lashes that were coated with some fancy mascara she bought on a whim, and finally, her cheeks rounder than the defined faces he was probably used to seeing. And he didn’t dare think about all the girls that scream for him at their shows. It was only then, as she picked apart her face, that it dawned on her how he seemingly had endless choices much better than her. She wasn’t just competing with girls from a high school or a small town anymore, but something much grander, something bigger than she would ever be.

She caught herself in her insecurity, wondering why it was even upsetting her that she couldn’t compare to others. It didn’t matter if she couldn’t measure up because she wasn’t even an option, she never was. 

Side by side Noah and Amelia aimlessly walked around the small, quiet town handing a bottle of white wine back and forth. Amelia wasn’t a big fan of wine but Noah seemed to have grown a liking to it. Well, thinking about it now, maybe Noah’s always had a taste for the bitter liquid. As she watched him take a swig from the bottle, for a split second, it was like looking directly into the past. She saw 16-year-old Noah taking a hefty chug from a stolen bottle of Barefoot Moscato. Even underage with limited accessibility, Noah always made sure to grab the only wine that made Amelia’s face twist the least. That crisp October night was originally supposed to include Nicholas until he bailed last minute for a brunette from his math class that needed “study help”. It was adorably hilarious watching a bright shade of pink adorn his cheeks as he tried to explain why he couldn’t make it. 

When Amelia looked back on that night, there was always a feeling she couldn’t quite place. It was something sweet that often comes with youthful midnight quests but also vaguely like being out of the loop about something she was unaware of. Noah was quieter than normal, not by much, but enough for Amelia to notice. Usually, alcohol had the opposite effect on the boy, however that night was different. There was hesitation beneath every word he spoke - a detail Amelia hadn’t picked up until years later after dissecting the night a million different ways in her head.

Noah wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling his best friend down to sit at the bottom of the cemented ramp with him. The sky was particularly bright that night, the stars looked closer than normal with shinier twinkles. 

“Look at that one, Noah! It’s so pretty!” Amelia exclaimed, sitting up a little bit, finger pointed out towards the sky. 

“Eh, it’s okay.” He shrugged.

She twisted her body towards him sharply. “‘Okay’?!” She turned back to the sky to admire the glittering star she was defending. “What could possibly be prettier than that?”

Amelia could hear the boy mumble something behind her, even though she couldn’t make out his words, she could still sense the thick apprehension laced between them. In the moment she just took it as fear of upsetting her with an opposing opinion. Peaking over her shoulder, she found Noah watching her with a gentleness she often found in his gaze. She offered the only viable option she could think of since it was the largest and brightest thing decorating the night sky. “The moon?”

A blush flooded her body when the boy chuckled, shaking his head and leaning forward to steal the bottle from her again. “Yes, Amelia. I’m talking about the moon.” He said in a tone that would normally accompany an eye roll. He brought the half empty bottle to his lips. She eyed him intently watching the bottle meet his mouth. She never knew it was possible to crave being a chunk of glass - yet there she was wanting nothing more to be the object touching his lips.

Walking beside him now made her realize that Noah had aged just like wine. Even from very early on he always held the dichotomy of being sweet and savory while simultaneously having the ability to leave a bitter, sour taste behind. When he was younger it was more subtle yet scattered, now it was the same, just stronger and refined through control. Wine isn’t wine without the intricate layers, the undertones, the top and bottom notes, all of it contributes to the integrity and skeleton of the liquid that creates something worth savoring. It’s impossible to separate the complex layers from each other and still claim it’s sophisticated wine. Noah was exactly that, elaborate and labyrinthian. If you wanted him whole, you needed to take every part, every layer. Back then, Amelia naively believed she knew, had and understood every layer of her best friend, her other half. It wasn’t until the morning after that adolescence-filled night that she got the worst awakening that she couldn’t have been more wrong. Overnight he somehow slipped from her grasp without even a goodbye or explanation. He disappeared into thin air. 

He was just, gone.

After a couple months went by with radio silence and no sight of return, in some twisted way, she mourned him while he was still alive. She had Nick of course, who was doing just as poorly as her but they grew distant over time and especially after graduation, she lost him too. Whenever she went back to the memory she would always wonder if she had known he was leaving for good, would she have told him how she felt. Would she have told him that she loved him and that she was jealous of every girl who had gotten the privilege to even hold his hand in the hall or share a kiss at a locker. Would her confession have made a difference? Would it have kept him from leaving?

She wondered if she’d still love him the same now — and if she did, would she tell him this time? Would it make a difference? Could it change or rewrite their history? Would it make up for lost time? Or would it just complicate their vastly different lives? Maybe some things were meant to stay hidden in the comfortable shadows of the past, even if they resurface.  

The scattering sound of Noah kicking a rock ripped her back to the present. She shook her head of the fuzzy memory. 

“So, you spend a lot of time ‘meandering’ in LA?” She teased, tilting the glass bottle backwards to slosh the light liquid into her mouth. The familiar sweet astringent taste caused her to twist the bottle in her palm. Barefoot Moscato.

“No.” He rolled his eyes with a smile and kicked a pebble across the empty skate ramp. “There’s nothing interesting in LA.”

She scoffed at his jaded statement. “Yeah right. And this old dusty skate park in your tiny hometown is more interesting than Los Angeles?”

He shrugged and took back the bottle. “Now that I’m back here? Yeah, definitely.” His inked fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle to take a sip of his own. “Everything in LA is the same. It gets really old, really fast.”

“Right.” She said skeptically, stuffing her freezing fingertips into her pockets. “Well, everything here has been really old for a really long time.” She wasn’t quite sure why she was being so combative about the sleepy town, most nights she prefers it that way. Whatever’s out there must be a better home for him to be so absent for so long. She knew he had his reasons, valid ones, but 10 years seemed excessive to avoid people who aren’t even alive anymore.

“Sometimes you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.” He stated the popular phrase as if he didn’t believe it before that night.

“Oh, what?” She scoffed playfully, the alcohol riding her cadence. “You missed little ol’ me?” Her words slipped past her lips before she could think twice, and asked it more as a joke than a genuine question.

His flow of speech hiccupped a beat before he replied. “Yeah, and what if I did?” He inquired gently, but intentional in the way he kept moving forward slowly.

Her eyes flickered up at him from where they had been glued to the ground. She quickly mulled over what to say back – ‘I missed you too’ felt too vulnerable, too honest. “Then I’d ask what took you so long to come back.” Her voice was quiet and meek, lacking the confidence it really needed to land a punch.

His next step faltered, clearly not anticipating her rebuttal. “Well I-” He began without knowing how to answer. It wasn’t til he lifted his head that he realized where they had ended up in their aimless walking.

“Noah?” Amelia asked, curious at the reason for his abrupt pause.

His demeanor shifted significantly, the conversation they’d been having previously was nothing more than a memory now. His spine straightened and his shoulders squared, his eyebrows sunk along with the corners of his mouth.

Amelia studied him curiously. His facial structure became so harsh and angular, most people would think he was furious, but she could tell by the weight behind his eyes that it wasn’t so. He was sad, maybe there was anger mingled a bit as well, but it was mostly dejection in the darkness of his eyes.

At first, she thought maybe she’d crossed some line or breached some boundary, but it was the way he looked at their surroundings that told her otherwise. Her eyes bounced around them wondering what could possibly be upsetting him so much. They’d wandered into some random side street with colorful graffiti all over the walls. Her head tilted in the same way a dog's would at a peculiar noise and her eyes drifted to the nearest street post.

Scott Street

It was technically the same street Nick’s house was on, just much further down. This offshoot of Scott St. intersected with 13th Street which was a notorious adolescent hangout spot, at least it was back then. The trio would often spend time there years ago while the street was more nefarious. The boys would drag Amelia there, usually when the summer’s sparkle began to dull, and they ran out of things to do. While she never saw either of them spray painting, she had a sneaking suspicion that they’d leave their mark while she wasn’t with them. 

Most days they’d sit around the asphalt drinking alcohol disguised as energy drinks while Nicholas sketched on the sidewalk with chalk. His works were usually elaborate art pieces of the most obscure fixations of his. One of Amelia’s favorite Nick chalk art installations was when he decided to sketch different album art covers of his favorite artists. After watching him sketch Deftones, The Cure, and Prince, Amelia made a request for Lana Del Rey’s Born to Die album which Nick was resistant to. 

“That’s not real music.” He retorted with a roll of his eyes which landed a smack on his arm from Noah outing him saying, “Shut up you always sing along to Off To The Races in the car.”

“Whatever.” He’d wave off the admission and proceed to create the most beautiful installment of his album series. Amelia was over the moon at the result, taking a bunch of pictures and making them semi-famous on Tumblr.

Another of her favorites was their 16th summer where Nicholas had taken up trying to master flowers. It was rare that Noah jumped on any artistic band wagon that Nick drove, but flowers for some reason was one of the lucky ones. It was quite a sight, seeing them both hunched over themselves in the Virginia summer heat chalking elaborate flowers into the concrete. Nicholas naturally always out-did Noah in the art department, but this go around Noah was able to keep up fairly well and his flowers came out just as pretty as Nick’s.

The corner of Amelia’s lips peaked up remembering how beautiful the sidewalk looked filled with colorful pastel flowers. Her eyes fell to the asphalt and the pickaxe of time chipped nostalgia into her heart at how the chalk hadn’t magically remained engrained in the cement.

Even though the city had cracked down on the law enforcement in the area to “raise the city’s value” they somehow failed to stop the constant layered graffiti work on the grey brick wall. Most days Amelia forgot the street even existed despite driving past it every day to work.

She shook her head to break herself from the memory only to catch Noah walking away from the scene. “Wait where are you going?” She called, quickly walking to where he was.

“C’mon let’s get out of here.” He grumbled which only confused her further.

“Oh, well, I,” She started but fell short, not knowing what to say.

After walking a bit in silence vaguely in the direction of Amelia’s house, she cleared her throat. “Are you okay?” She asked quietly, fidgeting her fingers together nervously. Despite having history with Noah, she still got nervous whenever he was like this. At least when he was younger, he could be… explosive at times. She was never particularly scared of him, he’d never hurt her or anyone, it was just almost painful to see him like that. When he’d get that upset, it was quite rare to get him to share what was truly disturbing him. She didn’t have much hope this time, especially since they had just been reunited. Noah was a tough cookie to crack, she wondered if time had mended all the years of hard work on him.

He remained silent for a while before answering. “I’m fine.” He dismissed the insinuation that he wasn’t, even though his demeanor hadn’t improved.

Amelia pressed her lips together and nodded. “Got it.” Her thumbs wriggled against each other as she walked and decided that curiosity was stronger than her will to stay silent. “It’s just… you don’t seem fine.” Her speed picks up to keep with his increasing velocity.

His fists curl at his sides. “Can you just fucking drop it Amelia?” He snapped. 

It wasn’t often that he cursed at her or used her full first name, especially not in such a serious tone. She knew that when he did it was serious.

Her eyes widened at his response and she nodded again. “Okay.” She replied meekly. “Sorry.”

The remainder of the walk back to her home was quiet and uncomfortable. It was mainly made up of the sound of their sneakers scuffing against asphalt.

When they reached Amelia’s fence it was reminiscent of that first night after breaking into Nick’s house.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you.” He said quietly but genuinely. Noah could be volatile at times but it was always followed up by an apology once he calmed down.

“It’s okay.” Reassured Amelia. “I shouldn’t have pried, it wasn’t my business.”

He sighed. “It’s not that necessarily, I just didn’t want to talk about it.”

Amelia let a pause settle between them before speaking again. “You know that you can talk to me about anything, right? I mean…” Her eyes fell to her scuffed up Converse. “I mean, I know it’s been a while. And you probably don’t trust me like you used to but, I’d still never judge you or anything.” 

Noah’s heart sank at her words, at the implication that she doesn’t hold his trust. But she was right. Ten years is a long time and 16 is such a tricky age. Nobody is a complete person at 16, there’s so much change that occurs between then and a whole adult version of the same person. And yet, it was as if no time had passed between them. His whole life Noah had only fully trusted two people, and one of them was standing right in front of him. She never once gave him any reason to question her trust. The minute he laid eyes on Amelia in the bakery last week, he trusted her all over again. However, this wasn’t a matter of trust.

“That’s no-.” Noah hesitated for a second, inhaling a deep breath that forced his cheeks to puff out while his eyes stared blankly at the sidewalk where he stood. “Scout, I know you would never judge me. It’s just not important.” 

“Are you sure? It just seemed like you went somewhere else in your mind back there. I just,” Amelia exhaled, feeling a tinge of warmth coat her cheeks. “I just… worry about you. Sometimes.” She squeaked out. 

Noah’s eyes snapped up from the cement to Amelia’s eyes at her confession. Her gaze immediately darted from his hold, feeling the heat on her cheeks grow into a burn. Valleys formed between his brows in curiosity, “You worry about me?” He couldn’t help but ask - it had been so long and so much had changed, there was no way she still even thought about him in any real capacity before their reunion. 

“Well,” Her hands anxiously pulled down her sleeves to cover his freezing hands. “Yeah? Duh.”

His stomach filled with swirling butterflies as he took in the girl in front of him. Of course he thought about her too, all of the time. Guilt twisted his intestines knowing that he was keeping this secret from her. As kids, they never kept things from each other, there were no secrets between the three of them unless it was necessary. But this, this was definitely necessary. How could he in good conscience tell her that she was the reason he got distant on the nostalgic street, how could he tell her that she’s the reason he had to leave in the first place. 

Well, it wasn’t necessarily her fault directly, in all honest reality it was his. It was Noah’s fault that he was a rebellious teenager and doing everything under the sun to get him in trouble - with both his parents and the law. He didn’t know why he did it, in therapy he’s told it was for attention. Maybe that was the truth. Maybe he wanted his parents to acknowledge his existence even a little bit. Or maybe acting out landed him in mandatory escapes from home. He liked that reasoning the best. He wondered if perhaps that was why he dragged Amelia and Nicholas into every scheme. If they all got caught, they’d be forced into detention - forced to spend time together regardless of parental schedules or permission. Being home and being alone were the things he ran from the most. He should feel guilty about it, he thinks, for getting them in so much trouble - but for the most part, he can’t. They were his only lifeline, he wouldn’t have survived without them. He took the brunt of the punishments anyway, always taking the fall for them. He paid more than his fair shares of his dues for the choices he made. At the time it seemed worth it but looking at it now, he wasn’t sure. 

“Oh,” His hands fidgeted before meeting her soft eyes again. He could barely stand looking at her while she watched him with such kindness and concern for him in her eyes. “I didn’t,” He exhaled in order to compose his thoughts. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m okay Scout, I promise. I just, must be hangry or something.” He joked to break up the tension, his favorite coping mechanism. 

“Okay.” She replied quietly with a small nod. They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken words heavy in the air. Amelia shifted on her feet and wrapping one arm around herself then brought the other to her lips, biting down on her thumbnail. “So, the Ruffilo Christmas party is still on for this weekend, right?”

Noah’s expression softened at the shift in topic. “Yeah! You still planning on coming?”

“Yeah, of course.” A smile formed on her lips. “How could I pass up a Ruffilo party?”

Noah couldn’t help but match the grin that painted across her lips. “It’ll be good to hang out like old times.”

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it.” She admitted softly. Her tummy that had just been twisted with anxiety was now buzzing with excitement. 

“Me too,” Noah agreed, his own smile widening. “It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah. Definitely.” Amelia nodded, scuffing the heel of her shoe against the pavement. After a quiet pause, she took a step back, glancing toward her small home. “I should get inside. It’s getting late.” She rubbed her own arms with a chattering smile. “And it’s really fucking cold.”

“Yeah, you should do that.” His smile fell a bit. “See you in a couple days?”

“Mhm.” She nodded, unlocking her wire fence as she waved at him. “Goodnight, Noah.”

He waved back, “G‘night, Scout.” His voice not as strong as before, sounding almost defeated.

The weekend arrived faster than Amelia was prepared for. After cycling through various outfits in the mirror, she landed on a mid-thigh length dark emerald velvet flowy dress paired with a bow in her hair of the same shade. The dress was adorned with bat-wing sleeves and a scooped neckline.

Between the anxious, panicked outfit changes and the flurries of butterflies in her tummy while waiting at the front door, it reminded her all too much of 7th grade when she attended one particular Ruffilo Christmas party. That year for some reason wasn’t the same as the ones before, things had shifted. She was growing into her body and suddenly boys looked a little different. Her stomach started feeling fluttery through all their hangouts, but she dismissed it as being due to the cute friends the boys kept around. 

She texted Noah, letting him know she was there and adjusted the bow in her half-up hair. Not long after, a tipsy Nicholas swings the door open wide. “Scout!” His grin reached his eyes, and he wrapped his arms around her, giving her a tight squeeze. “You know you could’ve just let yourself in, silly.”

She let out a content sigh, suddenly feeling much more at ease. Her arms wrapped around him, reciprocating the tight embrace, clinging onto him mostly because she genuinely missed him too. It had always been the three of them, not just Noah. “Nice to see you too Nicholas.”

He pulled back keeping her shoulders in a grip, “Augh my mom is gonna be so happy to see you!”

Walking into the two-story home felt like stepping into a time machine. The home was covered floor to ceiling with the same Christmas decorations she grew up seeing every year. Mama Ruffilo loved herself a good holiday, never passing up on an opportunity to decorate and celebrate something. Birthdays were treated as sacred holidays in their home – whenever anyone close to them had a birthday, that week was blocked off on their calendar. She took it upon herself to throw them a huge party with everyone they knew invited – even if you didn’t really know them. Their parties were grand and extravagant and lasted all day long. She pumped out delicious homemade food the entire day and ended it with a giant cake perfectly curated to the birthday person’s taste. Mama Ruffilo filled every event with enough love to go around for everyone, even the straggling strangers.

Their home was gorgeously dated, built in the early 1900’s and made up almost entirely out of wood. It was spacious but with a tight floor plan.

After some overdue catching up with Nick’s parents, the two of them made their way upstairs to meet up with Noah. The pair made sure to bring nearly overflowing solo cups full of Mama Ruffilo’s famous sparkling cranberry cocktail, an extra re-up for Noah.

The upstairs loft area was their domain, where all the kids used to hang out. The space was decked out with a couch, a couple bean bag chairs and a TV with every gaming console you could imagine. The Ruffilo’s were by no means wealthy, but they tried to give their kids as much as they could, and for the most part they succeeded. The loft area looked the same, as if it hadn’t been touched since the last time she had been there. It’s funny how there are moments in live, where you don’t realize that you’re experiencing something for the last time. Amelia would sometimes think about the last time she saw Noah that starry night at the skatepark, and how she had no idea it’d be their last.

Noah was sat on the couch playing some shooter game.

“Hey.” Amelia said meekly, giving him a little wave. Since the night at the park suddenly she felt shyer around him than before their reunion in the bakery.

“Hey Scout.” He said uninterrupted with his brows furrowed and his tongue stuck between his lips with his thumbs flying over the plastic controller. His gaze flickered up to her in a brief moment of respite, the look was fleeting as his eyes immediately went back reflexively to the game. It seemed as though his brain processed what he saw after the fact, his eyes snapping right back at her, lingering this time as he gave her a once over. It was clear he did not expect her to show up in a short dress that so perfectly accentuated the curves of her body. Of course, logically he knew she had grown up, but something about the way the fabric laid on her body clicked something in his brain. That was a woman standing in front of him, not the girl he used to call his best friend. The realization sent a buzzing warmth down his body that he didn’t anticipate. His focus stayed on her a couple seconds too long, and the sounds of defeat blared from the tv speakers.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, pausing the game and setting down the controller on the coffee table in front of him. He shook his head from the swirling thoughts and pulled himself up to his feet. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in for a half hug. “Glad you could make it Scout.” He smiled down at her.

She looked up at him, forgetting how much he actually towered over her – the top of her head barely reaching his shoulder, even with the almost two inches of added height from her shoes. “Thanks for inviting me.”

The boys gathered on the couch while Amelia opted for the matching armchair beside them. The trio spent some time catching up, sharing more stories of their time spent away from each other. Though the boys’ success stories seemed to outshine her modest life running a bakery, they still made her accomplishments seem just as significant and grandiose as their own.

Amelia watched the boys play a couple rounds of their shooter game while she was once again playing catch up to their drinking. She forgot the burn that came from the strong cranberry cocktail but that didn’t stop her from finishing 2 cups of it while now nursing a strong 3rd. The alcohol was quickly spreading tingly heat through her veins already reaching her fingertips.

Her eyes drifted to a corner of the room where a play tent used to sit, and a grin spread across her lips. Clear as day she could see herself at 9 years old hiding in it with her legs tucked up into her chest held tightly by her arms thinking it was the best hiding spot in the house.

“What’re ya smilin’ about?” Asked Nicholas, setting down the controller as their match ended.

She laughed and shook her head, “Nothin, just thinkin’ about how I’d always win at hide-and-seek.” She smirked with pride, straightening up before taking another sip of the fruity drink.

Noah scoffed, “Yeah fuckin’ right, I always won.”

“I don’t think so, not the way I remember it.” Amelia countered with a propped brow.

“Well, you’re definitely remembering wrong.” He challenged.

“Well, why don’t we find out?” Nick suggested with a playful glint in his eye. “For old times’ sake.”

“Fuck it, fine.” Amelia laughed, the nostalgic innocence of it all just as prevalent in her system as the alcohol.

“Sounds good to me.” Noah boasted and pointed a finger at her, narrowing his eyes. “You’re goin’ down, Alastor.” Noah was known to have a strong competitive streak and it showed when he began pulling last names out.

The trio gathered in the middle of the upstairs hallway just as they had years ago.

“Okay, 3 for 3?” Nick confirmed as that was their tradition.

The three looked at each other and nodded in agreement. They all downed the last of their drinks before the game began. Nick leaned against the railway of the foyer with covered eyes and began counting down while Noah and Amelia darted in opposite directions in search of their perfect hiding spots.

It felt silly, running around as 20-somethings looking for their old tried and true hiding locations assuming Nicholas wouldn’t remember them. But the rush of pure child-fueled adrenaline was too good to pass up for the pair, feeling better than they ever remembered. Whether it was the magic of the old house imprinted with their childhood wonderment or the alcohol swirling in their chests that fueled their fun, they couldn’t tell, but it was thrilling all the same.

In the first round, Amelia weaved through the downstairs crowd, somehow picking up another glass of cranberry cocktail along the way to warm her journey to her first spot. She was grateful no one was around to catch her sneaking into the coat closet below the stairs. Noah on the other hand, discovered that finding discreet hiding places now that he was lanky and 6’3 wasn’t the easiest thing to do. In a desperate last-minute attempt, he chose to hide behind some floor-length curtains in the living room. Noah was glad that the people around him were too drunk to question it.

Obviously, Amelia won that round.

By the second round, the trio were way past their limits on the wicked cranberry elixir. Their cheeks were rosy, their fingers tingly and their lips numb. Silly giggles and drunken fumbling were what gave away Amelia’s position, giving Noah the victory of the 2nd round.

Finally, after a sloppy team meeting downstairs, Nick began counting down, though he kept having to start over due to him tripping over his numbers and forgetting his place. Amelia and Noah split in separate directions, but they took advantage of Nick’s extra time. The brunette circled around downstairs but the racing urgency in her heart convinced her that she was running out of time and to give up and try upstairs. A brilliant idea bloomed in her mind like a light bulb in her head, an absolute genius spot she thought. She rushed her way through the traffic in the stairway and almost broke through the door of her destination with the force she ran into it.

She flicked the light on and took in the room, it looked so perfect, like it hadn’t been touched in the past 10 years. Nick’s bedroom was just as cluttered as she remembered it being, every surface covered with something – books, vinyls, figures, old instruments. Three of his walls were dark blue with one accent wall of chalkboard paint black.

She closed the door behind her and stumbled slightly as she turned to take in the chalkboard, covered with messages they'd left over the years. The notes stretched all the way back to an old Girl Scout schedule of hers. She walked towards the board, touching the chalk, reminiscing about that very first day. She rolled the blue powder between her middle finger and thumb remembering it as if it was yesterday. It was at the end of a Girl Scout meeting, and she was helping a younger girl in her troop with her sash. Just as she got it perfect, two older boys ran up to inform the dark-haired girl that their mom sent them to find her and that she was impatiently waiting in the car.

“Nice sash, loser.” Sneered 8-year old Nick with crossed arms.

“Amelia helped me with it.” The younger girl retorted proudly. “She said it’s cool.”

Nick scoffed at the idea, “Yeah right.”

“She worked hard for these badges, they’re special.” Amelia raised her brow, eyeing the small boy up and down. “I don’t see you with anything special.” She sassed.

“I like yours.” Squeaked Noah with wide eyes blinking at Amelia, not even looking the sash he was complimenting.

“Thanks.” A tiny smile formed on her lips, taking in the slightly taller boy with kindest brown eyes.

“I’m Noah-“ He began before getting cut off by Nick yanking his arm towards the exit.

As Noah was getting dragged away by Nick, he gave Amelia a big goodbye wave, “Nice meeting you… Scout!” He called back with a giant smile to the unnamed girl.

“You gonna hide or what!” A voice whisper-yelled from the closet, snapping her from her nostalgic trance.

Her brows furrowed and followed the mystery voice, yanking the closet door open.

“Hey! You’re in my hiding spot!” She whined spotting Noah in her genius idea.

“Finder’s keepers, find a different place!” He said competitively even though there was no real malice in his tone.

“No – I don’t think I will.” She straightened up, “I thought of it, I’m sitting in here.” In her hazy mind, the logic made perfect sense and, in that moment, sitting in her genius hiding spot might as well have meant winning the game.

Noah knew better than to challenge a drunk Amelia and just groaned with an eye roll, tucking his crossed legs further into himself. “Augh, fine, just get in before he walks in here.”

Amelia giggled proudly and plopped herself across from him. She was much smaller than Noah so her fitting into such a small space wasn’t much of a hassle. She brought her bent legs up, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin on her knees looking at him.

The edges of Noah’s lips quirked up into a wide grin as he looked over her, taking in how adorable she looked with her cheeks flushed and lips stained cranberry-red. “Oh, you’re drunk.”

The redness on her cheeks grew as she giggled at his words, bringing her long sleeves up to her face to hide her face. “Shut up, Noah!”

He let out a laugh at her reaction, finding it quite endearing.

“Hey! So are you!” She snapped at his laughter and smacked him with the access of her bell sleeve.

He shrugged, “Nick’s mom is a great bartender.” He chuckled, convinced that even drinking straight liquor couldn’t get him as drunk as that dreaded juice.

“Too bad Nick didn’t get any of that magic in his genes.” She quipped back with a grin beginning to spread.

They both erupted into a fit of cackles remembering the monstrous concoctions Nicholas would create at any given high school party they were at.

“No, he really didn’t!” Amelia couldn’t keep it together as she shook her head vigorously, almost making her dizzy.

“And you wanna know somethin’?” Noah leaned in and waited until she reciprocated in matched anticipation. “He still doesn’t!”

Amelia’s eyes filled with tears from how hard she was laughing, reaching out and grasping Noah’s arms for stability, pattering her feet as well as she could while sitting down. She shook Noah hard as if the more she moved him the easier it would be to breathe through her drunken laughter.

Noah didn’t help, only laughing harder because of her over-enthused amusement. The feeling of her delicate hands gripping him ignited some warm feeling in his chest that he couldn’t explain, or maybe it just didn’t make sense, or perhaps it was a feeling he forgot came with Amelia. The longer her hands lingered on him, the more familiar it became and in the pit of his stomach he realized that he remembered it vividly. Sitting on floors, wrapped up in fits of laughter always felt like that with her. It was electric and euphoric but soft like velvet and cashmere. Safe and exciting. Perhaps, maybe, it might be what people say home feels like. It seemed alcohol only amplified that feeling. A part of him thought that maybe if he kept her laughing, she’d never leave.

The pair suddenly perked up and their laughter ceased at a loud sound from past the room worried them that it might be Nick finally getting close to finding them.

“Shit!” Noah straightened up peek through the slats of the closet.

“What?”

“You didn’t turn the light off before getting in here.” He hissed.

Before Noah could stop her, she cracked the closet open and shakily pulled herself to her feet.

“Scout!” He called after her in a whisper and fell short of grabbing her wrist.

She sprinted across the room, flicking off the light casting the room in deep darkness.

“Fuck.” She muttered, not really thinking through the fact that she’d have to find her way back in the dark.

“’Melia.” Noah groaned letting his head fall back, pinching the bridge of his nose, suddenly remembering how ditzy she could get when intoxicated. “Just follow my voice and try not to knock anything down.”

“S’kay!” She slurred a bit and if on cue, she bumped into his dresser. “Ow!”

Noah covered his face with both hands, watching the vague movement in the dark through parted fingers like it was a train wreck he couldn’t look away from.

Her hands landed carefully on every surface she came in contact with, though the numbness that made home in her fingertips did not aid in that quest.

“I believe in you Scout, c’mon.” He chuckled, now tracking her with his light-adjusted eyes.

“I’m good, I’m good, I got it!”

By the grace of god, the girl made it back to the closet in one piece. However, it seemed that the precarious feat of finding her way back to her spot in the crowded closet was much more complicated in the darkness.

She stepped in just fine, “See, told you I got it!”

“Yeah, after you bumped into every piece of furniture!”

His comment starts the chain reaction of their drunken laughter. From all the combined laughter of the night, Amelia’s abdomen actively ached and when she couldn’t catch her breath, her midsection failed to support her weight any longer. She lost her balance and stumbled forward. She tried to catch herself, but the darkness and her tipsiness got the better of her. 

Amelia somehow landed in Noah’s lap and it’s only once the giggles died down that they realized her position on him.

Their smiles fall slowly once they notice just how close their faces were to each other’s.

“Hi.” Amelia breathes out quietly, being able to see him clearer with her eyes finally adjusted to the dark.

“Hi.” Noah replied, just as delicately as her. He shifts a bit beneath her, stretching his legs out allowing for her position to settle better. Each knee nestled at his sides, and she rested on his lap gently. Her palms found themselves on his chest, seeking warmth to ground her. A buzz laid claim across her skin and a prickling at her fingertips. She couldn’t tell if it was just the alcohol playing tricks on her but could’ve sworn that she could feel his heart thumping quickly beneath her hand. If it was his heart she felt, hers was racing just as fast.

It’s Noah’s eyes that first flickered down to her lips and that’s all it takes to prompt Amelia to do the same. It’s a game that went on for what felt like an eternity to them, but in reality, it wasn’t even a minute. Noah doesn’t think, he just does, following his drunken impulse to close the gap between them. Amelia’s eyes widen at the unfamiliar feeling of his lips.

It was barely a millisecond before they recoiled away from each other. Their eyes darted back and forth trying to read the other’s expression. It’s Amelia this time that rejoins their lips. It was awkward, neither one of them thinking fully about their actions but understanding it was foreign.

This kiss lasted longer than the previous with their lips locked. When it became clear that neither one of them wanted it to end, Noah advanced by placing his hands on her hips hesitantly. Her hands delicately made their way up to his throat, tenderly cupping the sides and letting her fingers rest on the nape of his neck. He took the gesture as invitation to proceed to something that made him nervous, a heavy pit sitting in the deepest part of his belly. It was something that would cement and advance the alcohol-fueled moment into something more real. He cautiously swiped his tongue against her bottom lip asking for entrance and much to his surprise, she obliged.

Their tongues cautiously met in the middle and began to explore each other. One of Noah’s hands made its way up her body to cup her cheek and pull her in further to deepen the kiss. His touches were delicate and careful, like she was made of glass.

If they had been sober, their minds would have surely been racing with all the paranoia and implications of their actions, but there, wasted on cranberry cocktails, and in the bubble they always seemed to create, there was nothing on their minds except each other.

It doesn’t take long for the kiss to heat up. Amelia’s arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer and adjusting to be further in his lap. Amelia’s thumping heart jumped into her throat while his dropped into his hips. Their clashed lips were a messy display of suppressed frustration and drunken bliss - hungry and curious, but soft and cautious.

Her dainty fingers threaded into roots of his lengthy hair as her hips began to just barely roll against his lap. Between the alcohol and the buzzing that made home between her legs, he was about all she could think about. In her drunken state it made perfect sense to follow the urge commanded by the ache in her core.

Noah however being slightly less drunk than her, held the whisper of unrequited adoration in the back of his mind. Emphasis on whisper, his brain was too woozy and fogged up from the girl lazily moving herself against him to care all that much. He thought, if being loved by her only came like this, just one time while they were drunk, maybe it was okay to let her lips grace his just this once. He had no real plans to actually escalate the moment past a heated kiss. She didn’t know what she was doing and would probably forget tomorrow anyway, there was no harm in a kiss.

Amelia pulled away, letting reality drip into her brain just a bit. Her eyes bounced between his own, who looked at her with a look that didn’t waiver like before, completely down for whatever the night was delivering.

When the bedroom door abruptly opened, it was as if their bodies were ripped apart from the way Amelia instinctively flew back into her spot. Her chest rose and fell quickly with her heart racing so fast it threatened to shatter her ribcage. Her cheeks burned the way a child’s would with fear of getting caught breaking rules. Even though there were no rules that stated otherwise, she felt as though she’d broken some invisible law. She wouldn’t necessarily classify it as wrong, just perhaps forbidden.

From all the loud chaos of her fleeing from him to the opposite side of the closet, it was a dead giveaway for Nick of their hiding spot.

Amelia squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of his sneakered footsteps making their way to the closet. She thought maybe if she stayed completely still, by some miracle he’d second guess his trail.

The closet doors creaked open in an instant and light from the hallway flooded the dark room. From the way Nick’s face dropped, it was clear that he wasn’t expecting to see both their faces in the same spot. His expression shifted from knitted confused brows to a wide victorious grin.

“Ha! Y’all made it easy. Two birds, one stone, you lose!” He declared as if he won the olympics, which didn’t really make sense since he didn’t win either. It was a tie between the three of them with each winning a singular round. They all won, they all lost.

“Sorry I um,” Amelia cleared her throat and struggled to leave the closet, crushing old shoes and letting boxes tumble behind her. “Sorry, I just need to leave.” She mumbled quickly, brushing past Nick nearly knocking him backwards.

Her legs couldn’t keep up with her speeding around the house to gather her belongings to leave. She threw her jacket under her arm and tossed her crossbody purse over her shoulder. Her feet stumbled over the steps of the staircase and barreled through the bustling party to land on the cold front door handle. A harsh cold smacked her face immediately triggering her teeth to chatter. The freezing winter wind was vicious and relentless across her pale skin as her legs propelled her forward to a full-on sprint home.

It wasn’t until she bursted through her front door with her back against it that she finally felt a semblance of safety. Her back was so heavy against the door that when she tried to pull herself from it, her spine felt like magnetized concrete. She let out a weighty sigh before forcefully kicking herself off.

Even though the holiday cocktail was still rushing through her veins like vicious waters, she stumbled her way into her kitchen. Her legs ached from the drunken sprint home and her chest was sore from the heavy breathing. Her head spun like a basketball on the tip of a player’s finger.

The fridge light burned her retinas when she pulled the door open and quickly found her target, an old, gifted bottle of red wine. Her eyes landed on the cabinet door that hid her wine glasses but deemed the task too exhausting and pointless. There was a hollow echo from pulling the cork harshly from the bottle’s mouth. The sanguine liquid flowed past her lips and into a greedy gulp, leaving behind a dry bitter burn. Her face scrunched at the taste, disappointed that even at her level of intoxication the beverage was still horrid.

Amelia rested her hands against the granite edge of the countertop, letting the weight of her entire body pool into her palms. Her mind was a fuzzy blur, nauseatingly turbulent with the memories of the past few hours. The thoughts came in relentless waves, giving her brief moments of drunken distraction before crashing back in. She hoped she’d forget tomorrow after a good night’s sleep, and she hoped the same for Noah. God, she hoped the same for him.

A/N; thank you so much for reading 💗 i hope you enjoyed even though it is definitely not christmas time lmao 💗 let me know what you think ! 💗

Taglist; @lma1986 @alastriaa @missduffsblog @xxkittenkissesxx @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens @measuredingold @jilliemiw86 @vinyardmauro @laurpartyprogram @somebodyels3 @silentglassbreak @thepastelfae

[aihoshiino]

If Ai had lived, what kind of parent do you think she would have been to teenage Aqua and Ruby?

luckily for you anon, I have spent a truly healthy [<- lie] amount of time thinking about this!!! This is going to inevitably dip into how Ruby and Aqua are both changed by having her in their lives just because that obviously matters to how she and the twins interact but... honestly at this point if you're following me, my bi-weekly unhinged essays about the Hoshinos are what you're here for.

Also worth noting before I get into it that I'm purposely not thinking too hard about Current Things in the manga like the documentary Gotanda was working on or the DVDs........ we know so little about them I can't really factor them into my rambles here lol so consider this just my most ideal happy end AU for the Hoshinos.

Anyway, I think it goes without saying that Ai would continue being an excellent mom to Aqua and Ruby. There would likely be some bumps in the road following B-Komachi's dome performance as her fame and increased demand puts pressure on her time and energy but Ai's priority is and will always be her babies so I can definitely see her and Miyako having a Stern Talk with Ichigo at some point to make sure Ai isn't overbooked to the extent that she can't spend time with them lol.

I also have a totally self indulgent AU based on Emiya Gohan that lives in my head, based around the framing device of Ai wanting to learn how to cook so she can make proper food for the twins as they grow up... my read of Ai is that she has a lot of issues relating to food security as a result of the abuse & neglect she went through, so being able to make good food for her own children and sort of rewrite her own relationship with food and cooking would be really healing for her.

Something also interesting to consider is the question of whether Ai would have been able to work through enough of her baggage regarding expressing her love to Aqua and Ruby... it takes such a desperate a raw moment for her to finally conquer that fear in canon that it's hard for me to imagine it happening in anything less than an equally cathartic moment, you know? At the same time, I really love the idea of Ai's slow progress towards healing eventually allowing her to do it without that kind of urgent pressure... instead of dying, Ai lives so hard she can eventually overcome that fear by her own strength!!!

I also think there would be a lot more moments like Ai and Ruby's dance with both of the twins – moments of Ai helping them both to untangle the trauma and baggage they carry from their past lives just through the simple act of loving and supporting them as their mother. Both Ruby and Aqua are explicitly described as being children "who never had a mother in the real sense" before their rebirth – for Sarina, she suffered the emotional abuse and neglect of living with a toxic mother who centered and prioritized her own feelings of grief and pain to such a degree that she completely abandoned her dying daughter. For Gorou, he grew up in the shadow of his mother's death as a result of childbirth complications, blaming himself and carrying the burden of his grandparents' grief and expectations in ways that are implied to have strained his relationships with them and left him without a real mother in his life.

Not only is this a healing experience for the twins, it's also ugely cathartic for Ai, too. As I've mentioned before, Ruby's "it's okay for me to dance!" scene with Ai is soooo incredibly powerful because it's about these two victims of toxic motherhood finding safety, healing and empowerment in the wholly loving and supportive parent/child relationship they build together. In general, the Hoshino family is a safe place where these three people who suffered abuse, neglect and the absence of loving mothers could find a place to heal and be loved.

Because of this, while I don't think that Aqua and Ruby would be hugely different on the surface going into their teens, a ton of stuff under the hood would be massively impacted. I like to think that growing up with Ai as a positive influence in their lives would have allowed them to essentially lay Gorou and Sarina to rest much sooner than in canon – not to forget or erase those memories, necessarily, but to definitively move on as their own people, having purified Gorou and Sarina's lingering regrets and trauma and being able to wholeheartedly embrace their new happiness as Aqua and Ruby.

This also means that they both have a much healthier relationship with Ai, in a lot of ways. I don't think they'll ever stop putting her on a bit of a pedestal but more in the way that a lot of people do if they grow up with a loving and good mom. On that note, I also like to think that with Gorou's weird baggage not causing such a conflict that Aqua might actually start calling Ai "mom"....... it makes me so depresso that he never did.....!!!

Without the weight of Ai's death hanging over them and her full and loving support at their backs, Aqua and Ruby still find their way into the entertainment industry, though for different reasons. Without his guilt getting in the way of doing things he enjoys, Aqua can admit to himself that he enjoys acting and tentatively pursues it through his childhood as the protégé of Gotanda again but in happier circumstances. He has similar initial hurdles as he does in canon wrt comparing himself negatively to Ai and underselling his strengths, but Ai would have a good talk with him about valuing what he brings to the table and not worrying about matching up to anyone else. Eventually, he becomes pretty focused on like, weirdo ass self produced projects he does a lot of the work on (acting, directing and producing) that don't make a huge splash in the mainstream necessarily but are well beloved in niche and horror circles and Aqua's happy with his work entirely because it's his and he's happy to make it, which is most important.

Ruby follows a similar track as she does in canon with becoming a member of the second generation of B Komachi, still driven by love and admiration for her mom but from a much healthier and happier place. Rather than feeling like she has to live up to Ai's image in her absence, she is inspired by Ai's presence in her life, her active support and encouragement and her boundless love and excitement to see her kids do what makes them happy. The canonical B-Komachi gen 2 still come together in mostly the same ways because I love them too much to separate them but this time, they're directly mentored by Ai and go full force through the industry with her support.

Eventually, I do think the three of them go public about their family - probably around the time the twins have graduated from high school, just to properly allow them the chance to be relatively normal kids without the scandal and pressure of being Ai's children hanging over their heads. It definitely causes a bit of an explosion, but I think by then Ai would have successfully transitioned from being purely an idol and would be more of a general household name/celeb, so there isn't as much outcry, but it definitely still stirs up some trouble that she and the kids have to weather.

At the end of the day, though, her presence in their lives would be a huge boon to them and it results in all three of the Hoshinos being much happier and healthier people. This response uh got a way from me a little and turned into like a whole AU pitch but what are we here for if not to delulu ourselves about scenarios where the Hoshinos could be happy..............

[kisara-kaiba]

OKAY THE KINKY BLUES HAS ME INTRIGUED PLEAAASE HEAR ME OUT ON SUGGESTIONS/BRAINSTORMING/HOPES/DREAMS. alright so it cant be in Temptation, the kink requires its own pocket dimension, first of all. as the biggest fanboygirl of their cycle of dominance and submission im gonna start off with that. a really fun and naturally flowing dom-sub dynamic for them is born in ancient egypt. if set put her aside as his property and tried to experiment with her ka with slowly increasing pressure whilr kisara was like "this kind man who saved me twice feeds me and shelters me who cares if hes tying me down and writing spells on my skin lol" it goes apeshit from there. TWO-this can be from many modern aus with little work, basically an in love blueship that seemlessly slipped into a dom-sub dynamic consciously switching it up a lil. whether that has seto giving orders while tied up on his knees or kisara begging to tie him up would be..that would go BRRRR. THREE. biting kink. straight up. no notes. id be fine with a 400 word introspective of either of one of them watching the bite marks they left on the other and their feelings about it. id settle. itd be enough.

how we feeling. any of thesr sound desirable. wanna brainstorm more. ill come knocking at your door like an unhinged mormon. anyway wanna tell you regardless, absolutely no pressure what you may or may not end up writing i just wanted to yell at someone about kinky blues, have a great day

S C R E E C H I NG this is why ily blueshipping king you just get my vision <333 that ancient Egypt idea has got me going f e r a l just thinking about it and i’ve thought for so long that i should write some mizushipping at some point anyway so yesssss. also biting is uh. yes please.

anyway okay now you got me started so strap in because this is gonna be a long ramble. so i feel like there’s several points about how i imagine their dynamic that i have to unpack here (putting it under a cut bc length or if ppl are uncomfy with this stuff)

↓↓↓

i am unfortunately boring in the way that i’ll ultimately always wanna write Seto as the dominant one just bc of my own personal preferences. BUT that obv doesn’t mean Kisa wouldn’t have a fair amount of control over the situation, both bc a healthy dom/sub dynamic requires it in terms of consent and boundaries ofc, but also bc a) Seto is so extreme in his need for Kisara’s explicit permission to do basically anything to her (even the vanilla stuff) because he’s so painfully precious about her well-being and also constantly plagued by not feeling worthy of her and b) while i think Kisa wants to be dominated i think she also realllly enjoys the control of knowing she’s got Seto wrapped around her little finger and could make him do any depraved thing she wants to her just by looking at him in the right way. so yeah i think they both know who’s really in control behind the scenes lol

i’m also DYING to get into Seto’s inevitable mental struggle to reconcile his thoughts and feelings of “she is a perfect goddess and i’m a mere mortal unworthy of even looking at her let alone touch her” and “i’d die to protect her and if anyone hurts her i’ll fucking kill them” vs his desire to be the one who gets to take this perfect goddess and make her submit to him, kneel before him, own and control and ruin her perfectly (because if there’s one thing we all know about Seto Kaiba is that he’ll make sure the divine yields to him, and not the other way around). I guess the key things there is that he alone is allowed to hurt her and no one else.

On this note i do however think Seto would be so conflicted about physically hurting Kisa, even if she very clearly and explicitly wants him to, because he just struggles with being so overprotective of her and not wanting to see her injured or in pain. but this would also be delicious to write him being all conflicted due to the guilt of causing her pain vs the fact that doing so is super fucking hot and he can’t resist doing it, esp not when she’s literally begging him to. Taking all of his frustrations after a long day out on her more than willing body would be so cathartic and tempting but also associated with so much guilt and worry about getting too into it and going too far.

I also definitely see Kisa as being the more extreme of them, to the point where i can actually see her be just a little bit unhealthily masochistic because she doesn’t really value herself due to past trauma, giving her a self-destructive streak and kinda fucked-up notions along the lines of ultimately being deserving of pain and suffering, that someone hurting her equals caring about her and wanting her, and that the ultimate thing she can do to show someone that she really loves and trusts them is to just offer herself up completely to use and do whatever they want to, which Seto would have to try to handle and mitigate because he’s ultimately not gonna let her use him to actually really hurt herself (and you know it would also break his heart a thousand times over to realise just how little she values and cares about herself due to her fucked up past). But I could also write it kinda funny in that whole “sub suggesting increasingly violent/fucked up things while the dom goes ‘idk that’s scary’” lmao. I think Kisa is a bit annoyed that people (especially Seto) tend to see her as this fragile, porcelain flower and wants to prove that she is perfectly capable of taking a (consensual) beating.

Outside of strictly sexual stuff i can also see Kisa as very much an ‘everyday/domestic acts of service’ kinda sub who just wants to bring Seto his coffee when he’s working and a drink when he comes home from work and make sure to always wash and iron his clothes and put them out before he leaves in the morning, tying his tie before he leaves and untying it when he gets home and cooking and serving his meals for him (which tbh wouldn’t just be about her being submissive but also bc she just wants to make sure he actually takes care of himself with like, eating and taking coffee breaks bc you know that man doesn’t take care of himself if left unchecked). And I think this also ties in with her sense of self-worth being tied to being useful and helping others because she doesn’t really see herself as valuable unto herself, but also maybe acts of service is just kinda her “love language” too. i feel like this is the sort of thing i could maybe include in Temptation bc she’s already pretty much like this there, with to me pretty obvious undertones that her working as Seto’s assistant is definitely triggering a submissive side in her.

Temptation also has the whole thing with Seto secretly enjoying Kisa wearing her KaibaCorp pin while working because it marks her as his for the world to see, and I definitely feel like that’d be a thing for him too. Branding her, either by things like visible bite marks/hickeys that she’s not allowed to cover up or something like a discreet necklace that is actually a collar (although tbf, with the fashion we see in the Yugioh universe, would anyone even blink at a BDSM-style collar? Like Yugi’s already wearing fetish gear as his everyday clothes lmao). I mean, Seto’s already pretty big on putting his branding on literally everything, so Kisa would be no exception (also imagine the ridiculous extravagance and amount of money and care Seto would put into a collar for Kisa).

While I’m not really into the idea of Seto being submissive per se, I do think both he and Kisa could easily have praise kinks because they both crave validation in their own ways and for someone to telling them that they’re doing/being good (Seto wouldn’t admit that though, but if I allow for some submissiveness on his part I think being called a good boy could fix him). But with him as the dom it also totally tracks for him to make Kisa worship him and stroke his ego in that way. On that theme, however, I could also imagine him making her allow him to worship her as a kind of ‘punishment’ bc he knows she has a hard time accepting that but that it’s also something that’s good for her to hear.

Also I can totally see Kisa being a little bratty as a sub sometimes because she likes to talk back to Seto and be deliberately cheeky, disrespectful and provocative (both because she enjoys the control of getting him riled up and because she knows that the more she gets him worked up the more forceful and intense he’ll be about putting her back into place afterwards).

Okay so this turned into a fic-chapter length essay about this topic instead of actually writing the fic (bc *ofc* i’d do that) but please lmk what you think!!! (and hopefully i'll use your ideas + my rambling and turn in into fic eventually)

[hermesserpent-stuff]

On dragon island, an au happens during the night and the fury episode. I'll post it to AO3 when I figure out tags lol

Peace please au

@sarnai4

Hiccup stares at Dagur, heart beat loud inside his ears. Dagur is here! Here on dragon island while they are trying to do a sneaking mission!! Dagur had just excitedly recounted their last encounter, recounting Hiccup ‘fighting’ the night fury. Which… yeah…

But now Dagur is pointing his sword at Hiccup and Hiccup feels conflict bubbling up within. He had not agreed with his father’s choice to hide the dragons from the Berserkers. And while he is still a bit afraid of Dagur from their time as children-

“So ... what are you doing here?”

Dagur’s words intteruopt his thoughts and Hiccup stutters mentally while stepping back from the sword, fingers flexing on his shield.

“What am I doing here?

Dagur takes another step forward, face starting to shift, but to what? It is a little hard to tell in the dark.

“Don’t answer that! I know EXACTLY what you’re doing here.”

Hiccup feels a flash of guilt and worry. If Dagur found out they had lied he would go to war. But how could he not eventually find out?? They were at war with Alvin using dragons! And any traders that came to their island saw the dragons. Maybe…maybe this is a chance to do something. Something Stoick would not approve of.

“Uh, you-you do?”

He stutters.

“Oh yeah, I do. You’re here for the same reason I am, Hiccup. You’re here ... to hunt dragons!”

Hiccup flinches back and takes several steps backwards. Oh. Oh no no no. Dagur is hunting dragons on dragon island while they are trying to do a sneaking mission on said island while their dragons were hidden on the other side.

“Thats… Uh.. Actually no.” Hiccup is going to make a choice, to reveal an inevitable truth, because while only the heir of Berk, he knows that his loyalty is to dragons first. “You see Alvin's decided that he hates my tribe existing and he might train dragons or just send plain old wild dragons against us, so me and my ... Friends are here trying to successful pull of a fake sneakingt mission on this island without our dragons.”

Dagur starts nodding along.

“Oh fake missions are a great pra- hold up, "our dragons"?”

Dagur looks a little wild in his eyes that are full of offense. Hiccup sighs and sits down on the log and pokes the fire with a nearby stick. He stares at it instead of his probable doom.

“Mmhmm. Alvin attacked us and our dragons were the only thing that got us out. And I figured he'd spread the word, so I'm not gonna do like my dad asked and lie to you. We have dragons. That fight you saw was staged to save the twins’ Zippleback.”

Dagur sits down heavily. He clenches his hands tightly.

“Your dad?”

He asks.

“Mmhmm. It wasnt my plan. If it was up to me Id never send Toothless away. But Dad keeps making me and honestly… Im so tired of not being allowed my best friend at my side.”

“Toothless?”

Dagur just sounds dazed. Better than pissed.

“The Night Fury. Would you like to meet him? Knowing him, hes probably worried enough to start looking for me after Tuff stoped paying attention.”

“I could meet a Night Fury?!!”

Dagur sounds genuinely exited and maybe Hiccup can win him over.

“Yes. But you have to promise not to hurt him.”

Dagur takes a second and then puts down his sword.

“Fine. Yes. Let me meet the Night Fury!!”

Hiccup nods and then tilts his head back and lets forth a roar he had learned from Toothless. Dagur starles and burst into laughter.

“I had no idea you could make that noise!”

Hiccup flushes and rubs his neck. Dagur still makes him a little afraid, but he feels safer knowing his best friend is on the way.

“I practiced a lot with Toothless.”

Hiccup replies.

“What sort of name is Toothless anyways?”

Hiccup is about to answer when Toothless leaps from the shadows, over the fire, and tackles Hiccup off the log, licking his hair vigorously before turning to growl at Dagur. Hiccup stands up and gently rubs his friends head.

“Hey, hey, its okay bud. Hes… a potential ally. We really dont want a double war. So lets just say hi.”

He croons to Toothless who sniffs the air and then huffs in a way that Hiccup knows that Toothless is going along with this because Hiccup is the one asking.

Dagur is staring.

“He understands you?”

“Mostly, a lot of it is guessing and being around each other all the time. Here, give me your hand.”

Dagur does and Hiccup brings Dagur’s hand to Toothless’s snout. The hand is shaking ever so slightly underneath Hiccup’s. Hiccup gently guides it into a smooth petting motion and Toothless purrs. Dagur lets out a half laugh that might be nerves or derangedness. Hiccup decides to go a step further.

“I could probably convince him to let you ride with me… but only if you promise me something.”

Dagurs head jerks sharply to look at him, but Hiccup feels steady with toothless right here at his side.

“What?”

It is a whisper, softer than Hiccup thought possible from the older teen.

“My… I don't think a war on two fronts is Berks best interest. I know my father lied. I don't think it was the right choice. And I'm hoping, that as his heir, my truthfulness can repair this broken trust. So if… if you want a ride you must agree not to go to war and kill my people or my dragons.”

Dagur blinks and stares him in the eyes. They stand in silence for a moment, breathing slow and measured.

“I think I can agree to that. As allies, we shouldn't be going to war. But I want to redo that treaty! We never signed it properly with all the lieing and messing around.”

Dagur says and Hiccup deflates in relief.

“Okay, yeah, I think I can get Stoick to-”

“Nonono. I don't want a treaty with that old fart. I want it with you.”

Dagur taps Hiccup's chest. Hiccup flushes.

“But I'm not incharge of Berk?”

“Your incharge of dragons. Much cooler. And more powerful to be honest.”

Dagur says with a broad grin. Hiccup sighs.

“Dad won't love that.”

“I can get rid of him if you'd like!”

The offer is genuine and Hiccup quickly shakes his head.

“I'm not ready to be chief and my dad really doesn't deserve to die.”

“Just give me the word.”

Dagur shrugs. Hiccup shakes his head and slips onto Toothless’ saddle.

“Right. Uh, thanks. Now, that ride?”

He offers his hand and Dagur hesitates for a moment before climbing on behind him.

“You're going to want to hold on.”

He warns and is surprised that Dagur's grip is gentle on his waist.

“Ready.”

Dagur says and Hiccup hums.

“Alright bud. Let's go!”

And then they launch straight up into the dark sky. The grip shifts to a hug from behind as they climb higher. Toothless lets out a happy roar and Hiccup cannot help but roar along. They spiral upwards and then Hiccup croons and they are diving quick and fast to the inky black waves that are silvery where the moon touches. They glide quickly across the crests of the waves, stirring up a fine mist. Dagur whoops and lets out a Berserker cry.

They climb again and then they fall backwards flipping head over tail. Hiccup is laughing from adrenaline and Dagur laughs too. Toothless warbles and straightens into a dive and shoots a plasma blast. They burst through the plasma heated air and crash into the water before rising back into the air. Water makes the fast winds colder but neither boy cares truly.

They then rise high and float among the moonbeams as Dragon Island rests far below.

“Amazing.”

Dagur whispers in awe.

“He is, isn't he?”

Hiccup croons and scratches Toothless.

“Yeah. And you too. I saw that pedal action. That seals it. I'd like you to teach me to tame dragons.”

“... Let's get the treaty issue all sorted and then maybe.”

“I'm going to make it part of the treaty. You're so amazing.”

The grip around his chest tightens for a moment and then Dagur speaks again.

“Think we can do a few more dives? We should avoid the northern shore though. That's where part of the armada is.”

Hiccup blinks for a second and then puffs his cheeks. Of course the armada is here. Dagur is a chief after all.

“Sure. Toothless and I love trick flying. Honestly, sometimes I wish I had less responsibility to the tribe so I could do it more.”

“I know the feeling.”

Dagur whispers. Hiccup feels a flash of sympathy. It must be rough. Eighteen and having everyone look to you as a leader to guide them through. When all Dagur seemed to want to do was have fun and fight. Dagur was not ready for chiefdom. He reaches down and pats the arm encircling his chest.

“Well, let's just forget responsibility for now. Okay?”

“Sounds good Hiccup.”

And then they dive.