#future eve icons

[iconsynth]

♡ ✰ FUTURE EVE ✰ ♡

フューチャー・イヴ by sasakure.uk (illust. by Aozukikawasemi) [requested by anonymous]

Free to use; reblogs appreciated!

[sugarwork-cinema-icons]

future eve (magical mirai 10th) miku icons!!!

credit appreciated but not required

i am OBSESSED with these!! they turned out so good omg

[magishrooms]

Future Eve

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

"HALLOWEEN PARTIES"

EXTRA CONTENT- "BEYOND THE HOURS"

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader → warnings: strong language, mentions of breeding kink, mentions of possible future pregnancy, lots of suggestive conversation and making out. not edited. upside down does not exist, minors dni → wc: 9.9k+ → a/n: @take-everything-you-can plagued me with thoughts of what our idiots would get up to on halloween, and i just couldn't help myself. it definitely spiraled out of control though. my bad. ALSO, QUICK DISCLAIMER: please if you get a snake don't do what reader and eddie did. snakes a homebodies. we are just going to pretend it's okay in this context for the name of fiction, alright? obligatory snake owner ramble over. let's GO.

enjoy the main story's masterlist here

The thumping of the bass was audible before you’d even exited the elevator fully. 

Any other day of the year, you’d assume your group of friends would be earning an instant noise complaint for the volume of the music coming from behind Steve and Robin’s apartment front door. But it wasn’t just any other day – it was Halloween, and somewhere amongst the rhythm of what surely had to be Steve blasting Abba, you could make out fellow neighbors playing music just as loudly. 

If anything, the overly quiet apartments were more concerning than the noisy ones. 

“Do you think Lestat is going to do okay with the music?” Eddie suddenly frets, one hand reaching to tug on what little fabric there was of his costume. It almost made you smile, a reminder of what exactly your usually ‘scary’ boyfriend was donning. 

Britney Spears, circa 2001. One of her most iconic VMA performances. 

He’d decided it the moment you two had come home several months ago with the most important accessory that was draped around his neck – a juvenile ball python named Lestat, who looked surprisingly content as he hung onto Eddie’s shoulders. 

“I don’t know,” you hum, looking over at Eddie, a little bit concerned now that he’d brought it up, “Maybe it’s a bad idea-”

“I’m texting Nance to turn the music down.” 

“What if it freaks him out?” 

“It’ll be fine.” 

“What if he gets stressed and bites you, Eddie?” 

To any onlooker, the sight of you might have been a bit funny. Furrowed brows, arms crossed, sticky blood spread out across your stomach and sternum. 

The theme tonight for the two of you had been iconic performances. Eddie insisted, and part of you knew he was just afraid to dress up so extravagantly all alone when it came to this small get-together, but you hadn’t hesitated to pull together your own version of Lady Gaga’s iconic VMA performance from 2009. If you two were going to commit to a theme this year, you were committing. 

Eddie balances his phone in one hand, typing with a single thumb. Impressive, given his history of ardently avoiding owning a smart phone. His other hand trails up to his collarbone, sneaking a careful finger below Lestat’s head, holding him up and pouting his lip a little, “This little guy? Biting me? He would never.” 

The sight was cute. Obnoxiously, overly, endearingly cute. 

“He’s still a snake,” you try to argue, stopping right outside of apartment 34C. The music was more clear now as it switched from whatever Abba tune had been playing to Maneater by Nelly Furtado, “If he gets scared enough, he might.” 

“I’d hardly call him a snake,” Eddie snorts, shoving his phone back into his pocket, smiling as he tilts his chin to awkwardly stare at the snake now carefully slithering over his knuckles, “Dude misses the mice on his first strike every time we feed him. And if there was ever a time he was going to bite me, it would have been when I was taking that moss out of his mouth as he was eating.”

That earns a huff of a laugh from you as well. The image of Eddie on Monday night, absolutely losing his mind as he’d noticed that Lestat had gotten his mouse entangled in some of the moss decorating his enclosure, not even hesitating to open the tank once more and throw his hand in right along with the tongs to prevent your new ‘son’ from ingesting it, crosses your mind. It hadn’t mattered how much you reassured him that it was probably normal in the wild, that Lestat’s body could certainly handle it. Eddie had been insistent and blinded by what could only be described by paternal instinct. 

If you’d asked yourself last Halloween if that had been where you see your life heading in a year’s time, you would have rolled your eyes. 

“You do realize how dumb that was of you, right?” you insist, remembering your fear and the way your breath had caught in the moment. It was funny now, but you’d never gripped onto Eddie’s shoulder tighter than when he’d recklessly done so. You loved the snake, you really did, but you’d realized in that moment you might still love Eddie just a little bit more. 

The conversation is cut short as it’s clear that Nancy had received Eddie’s text, the music behind the door quieting a bit along with a change of song. 

Your jaw nearly drops, “You did not make Nancy do that.” 

The opening notes of I’m a Slave 4 U were impossible to miss.

“I did.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Are you gonna insult me the entire night, or let me make my iconic entrance?” 

You don’t get a chance to answer, Eddie carefully passing by you, Lestat’s head bouncing a little as it passes a bit closer to your face than you would have been comfortable with a few months ago. 

The snake, funnily enough, had even been your idea to begin with. Your want, your desperate argument you’d wasted countless breaths upon while getting ready for bed with Eddie. 

It’ll be fun, you’d whined to Eddie as you’d both crawled into bed, we even have the space in the living room. 

Sweetheart, you’re fucking terrified of snakes, Eddie had easily rebuttalled. He wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t stop you from huffing like a petulant child. 

That’s an exaggeration, you argued right back.

Your hands had still shook ferociously that first day of bringing home the snake when you’d been the one to move him from the small container the store had placed him and into the full fifty gallon tank now occupying a fairly large chunk of the apartment’s living room. 

You’re still lost in your head as the door swings open for Eddie right as the first chorus of the song begins. He’s dramatic, fully committed, a glimmer of who he must have been in high school shining right through as he struts confidently into your friends’ apartment. 

A version of Eddie you somehow missed despite never having met. You almost wonder if you would have still ended up here if you’d met then; you almost wonder if you would have still ended up at each other’s throats inevitably, even in those days. 

You probably would have. You secretly hope that it all would have still happened exactly as it has. 

“No fucking way!” 

Robin is the first voice you can hear excitedly shriek out a reaction to Eddie, followed by a sharp hush from Nancy. They’re deeper in the apartment, out of your line of sight. You can hear Jonathan’s muttered response lost in the music, and you can smell Argyle’s presence rather than hear or see it. 

Weed had been expected, but Steve and Robin were strict in their rule of only partaking on the balcony. 

“Yes fucking way,” Eddie responds, clearly giddy. You finally trail in behind him, not necessarily shy but certainly not nearly as extravagant as he had been. You hang back a bit, biting back a grin, just admiring your boy.

All warmth, rosey cheeks spread wide in his boyish grin, eyes bright as he wiggles his brows as Robin. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Robin whispers as she rushes forward, glancing over her shoulder, clearly looking for Steve before she leans it a tad bit closer towards Lestat. 

“Mama didn’t raise a bitch,” Eddie snarkily replies, moving to slowly remove the snake from his neck. 

“Language,” you jokingly scold him, reaching out to take the snake from his hands as he brings it to his chest, giving Robin a closer look at the nearly-glimmering pale scales of your pet. Almost instinctively, he starts to pull the animal away, but once he sees the look on your face, he’s quick to hand him over. “No cursing around our son.”

Nancy finally walks up, still no sign of Steve as she joins your side and Lestat wraps his body slowly around your wrist, “Oh my God, don’t tell me you also refer to this thing as your child.” 

“This thing?” Eddie huffs, more offended than you, “Nance, he has a name.” 

Robin has gravitated towards you now, entirely captivated by the ball python, eyes shimmering as she lets out the smallest gasps and squeals under her breath, “What’s his name?” 

“Lestat,” you whisper, watching Nancy and Eddie grow closer and clearly get more immersed in their own private conversation, “But Eddie wanted to name him Frodo.” 

“Frodo,” Robin chuckles a little, looking at you questioningly as she holds out a timid finger. You give her a nod, moving a thicker part of the snake’s body to face her rather than the head, “Sounds like Eddie.” 

It did indeed. Once the bickering of whether or not you two would even get the snake to begin with had faded, the entire argument of what its name would be had started up. Eddie wanted the snake to be named after his favorite books – you wanted to name the snake after your most recent reads. 

You’d clearly won. At the sacrifice of promising the inevitable first of many cats you and Eddie would eventually have be named Frodo instead. But you’d still won. 

Robin’s eyes finally leave the snake long enough to take in your own outfit, and you hadn’t realized it was possible for the girl’s grin to widen, “Wait - are you dressed as Lady Gaga from her Paparazzi performance?” 

“Oh, my dear Birdie,” you coo out the endearment, shivering slightly as the cool body of the snake continues to slither up near your elbow, “This night is just getting started.”

—

You were right. The night had just begun. 

The first few hours pass fairly chaotically. A languid and rapid mixing of everyone excitedly catching up on each other’s lives, various drinks beginning to be concocted. Some delicious, and some spurring gags from others simply from the description of the hard liquor that had gone into them. 

Argyle had managed to lure many of the group out onto the patio at various intervals to partake in the devil’s lettuce, as he had proudly proclaimed it. Nancy and Jonathan had figured out a way to set up a makeshift karaoke party in the living room, lyrics for songs being displayed on the main TV. And Steve, for all his attentive hospitality as the one of the co-hosts of the night, had remained painfully oblivious. 

Eddie had gone behind his back when it came to bringing Lestat. Steve had made it clear when the two of you had purchased the puppy in reptile form that he wanted nothing to do with the python, while the rest of the group had been easily intrigued – especially Robin. And so once Eddie had decided upon his Britney outfit, the next logical step had been securing Lestat’s attendance at the party. He hadn’t texted Steve - or Nancy, as a matter of fact - but rather Robin. 

The girl hadn’t even taken a minute to respond, overly enthusiastic to meet the snake. 

Everyone had slowly become a part of a more silent bet as the night dragged on, and for once, you and Eddie were on the betting side of it all. The drinks were poured, the weed was smoked, the music was sung along to painfully off-key, and Steve never once noticed the snake that was frequently wrapped around various parts of yours and Eddie’s body. 

The quick exchanges probably didn’t help. When Steve needed your help in the kitchen at one point, you’d smoothly handed Lestat over to Eddie in passing. When Eddie had agreed to join Jonathan and Argyle on the balcony at one point, he’d easily and carefully draped the snake across the nape of your neck from behind the couch. Hell, you’d even spent a good five minutes engrossed in a conversation with Steve, all the while Lestat had been comfortably coiled around your bicep opposite the man. 

As the hours passed by, you found yourself wanting to be caught. 

Your phone pings suddenly as you bury yourself deeper into the leather couch, giggling over Steve’s current rendition of What’s New Scooby Doo?. 

You shuffle carefully to pull it from where you’d wedged it against your hip, trapped weakly by your white bottoms speckled with glittery blood.

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: I want a cigarette :-( 

You do a double take of the contact name, blinking rapidly before you finally connect the dots. 

YOU: when the hell did you change your contact name in my phone?

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND:  Unimportant. 

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND:  Do you think if I hand Lestat off to you right now that Steve would notice? 

Your eyes flick up as the song ends, Robin having jumped up to finish off the performance with Steve, the two of them a mess of flailing limbs clinging to each other and joyful laughter bubbling out of them for unknown reasons. 

Well, partially unknown reasons. One of them was surely the strange concoction the two of them had chugged at some point in the night that had included both watermelon flavored vodka and green apple whiskey. That had been one you’d cringed and stuck your tongue out at. 

YOU: 50/50 chance. And NOT unimportant btw, what’s my name in YOUR phone? 

Just as Eddie exits the bathroom, Steve perks up at the sound of the door and distant flush, removing himself entirely from Robin’s embrace, “Fuckin’ finally! I have to piss.”

Everyone holds their breath as he rushes past Eddie, but he still remains completely unaware of the snake that Eddie is carrying. 

The slam of the door times perfectly with Eddie’s collapse onto the couch next to you, a shy and guilty grin already gracing his face before you even begin bursting at the seams with continuing the text conversation face-to-face. 

“Seriously,” you waste no time, turning to him quickly and your knee easily overlapping his thigh as you shuffle into a more comfortable position, “When did you change your name in my phone, asshole?” 

He takes his time answering, pulling on the ridiculously small jean shorts he wears as his shoulders quiver with the effort of holding in his laughter, “Words hurt, baby.” 

You hate the way nicknames as simple as baby can send still shivers down your spine. 

“You couldn’t have at least been a little more creative? Like, world’s hottest boyfriend? C’mon, you can be more clever than that, surely.” 

It’s easy to do this, to egg him on and prod at his ego in the softest of ways. It’s also always been a dead giveaway to him that he’s gotten under your skin. 

“My name with a pretty black heart next to it just wasn’t cutting it anymore,” he pouts exaggeratedly, leaning into your space a bit, holding the snake a careful distance away as he looks into your eyes and a suspiciously jubilant look crosses his face, “What would you have preferred?” 

“Something shorter,” you breathe out, feeling some of the alcohol coursing through your veins now, making your headswim as you suck in the scent of his cologne heavy in the space between you, “It’s a bit of a mouthful, if I’m being honest.” 

“It is,” he nods, and his lips spread salaciously, pupils growing just a tad bit wider before he delivers a devastating blow, “But we both know you can take it, can’t you, baby?”

Damn him. Fuck him. Send him all the way down to the depths of Hell, for all you care. 

He’s caught on to a clear game he can play now that you’re tipsy, one that he certainly has the upper hand in, and you can’t tell if the night ending in him winning it would actually spell your loss. You swear, you can already feel his hands on your hips, tearing off the costume you’d spent several weeks carefully sewing sequins into, his lips getting sticky with all the fake blood across your torso, his- 

Huh. Never had you realized yourself to be such a horny drunk. 

“Now I need a cigarette,” you grumble, leaning away from him, trying to break whatever spell he was casting. None of your friends’ have even noticed the interaction happening on the couch, saving you from eternal embarrassment. 

If you’d had less pinot noir and shots of Fireball whiskey in your veins, you’d probably still find the decency in you to be self-conscious at toying with these things in public. Maybe scold him, maybe douse out whatever flames he was attempting to ignite. 

Eddie leans back as well, clearly satisfied with himself as he lifts Lestat up to preoccupy himself by pretending to study the lightened coloring of the snake. Mostly white, with splatterings of a traditional morph at random across the body. The woman who had sold the snake to the two of you had referred to it as a piebald. If you had been shopping with an actual breeder rather than a reputable rescue, he would have cost an arm and a leg. 

Luck had been on your side the day you’d stumbled upon the snake. You wish luck was still on your side tonight. 

Eddie sticks out the tip of his tongue to mimic the snake a few times before he focuses on you again, “You know, we could always see if Robin wants to watch him while we both go grab one.”

You have no clue how the girl had heard him from across the living room, but she suddenly appears at his side, just as eager in appearance as her original text giving the blessing to bring Lestat had been. 

“Did someone say I could hold the snake?” she bounces a bit on the balls of her feet, looking down with utter fascination, “Please tell me you guys just said I could hold the little guy. When you first got him, I did a ton of research so I’d know proper handling tips, and also how to know if he gets too stressed. Also I may or may not have been nervous about how often they bite, but I found out that-”

“They don’t bite,” Eddie interrupts with reassurance, offering a small smile as he looks up to her, “At least, not very often. You usually have to aggravate them pretty badly, or catch them on a really shit day for them to strike.” 

It had been a huge selling point in convincing him. Ball pythons were docile in nature, and they’d be quicker to match up to their namesake by balling up than actually strike out at someone. 

Of course, the day you had been informing of this, you had no idea he was already aware of it. He knew they didn’t bite, he knew the specifics of what a habitat for them needed, he knew their dietary needs – he’d already had an Amazon shopping cart filled with supplies after the first time you brought the snake up to him, unbeknownst to you. 

“Yeah,” Robin nods ferociously, hands reaching out carefully, already more than prepared to take the snake, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now hand over the baby and go do whatever debauchery you two are clearly wanting to get up to.” 

“We aren’t getting up to debauchery!” you try to defend the two of you, watching Eddie carefully uncurl Lestat from his arm to pass him into Robin’s waiting hands, “Eddie just wants a cigarette and-”

“And you want to join him and probably get in some hot and steamy makeout sessions, right?” Robin finishes your sentence for you, quirking an eyebrow for a second before letting out a whisper of a squeal when Lestat takes to her quickly. His tail wraps around the length of her wrist and you’re shocked as you watch him stay just as curious as he had been while held by you and Eddie. A tad bit more reserved, but no sign of balling up any time soon. 

Eddie stands from the couch, patting his largest back pocket to ensure his pack of cigarettes and lighter are still safely tucked into it, and you know it’s useless to keep arguing with Robin. She’s entirely entrapped by the snake in her hands now, whispering in a high-pitched tone that surprisingly doesn’t seem to bother Lestat. All her coos nearly resemble baby-talk. It’s cute – sort of. A direct mirror of how you and Eddie have been acting at home when you handle the ball python. 

You stand slower than Eddie had, hawk eyes still glued to your friend, “Just- Just be careful, okay? Avoid touching his head, and don’t wave your hands around too much while talking, because it can scare him. He also might try and crawl up to your hair because Eddie lets him hide in his at home, and sometimes he’ll pull on it because it sticks to him, so just-”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie stresses, throwing an arm around your shoulders, giving your bicep opposite from him a quick squeeze, “She’ll be fine.” 

Robin nods, clearly only half listening to the debate as she watches Lestat wander up her arm in clear wonder. 

It sort of does feel like Lestat is your actual human child, as though you’re leaving your toddler with a babysitter for the first time. 

Eddie tugs you deeper into his side, musky cinnamon and boyish charm filling your nose as he leans down and murmurs, “C’mon.” 

A Ghost song starts to thump over the speakers as you allow Eddie to guide you over to the sliding door beside the kitchen, the layout different and even a tad bit nicer than your own apartment. It’s odd, the view of the kitchen being clearer than the living room, the exact opposite of how your home is. 

Home. Even in your tipsy state, even after so much time having living with Eddie and even going as far as to now own a pet with him, the notion fills you with warmth. 

Maybe you’re actually a sentimental drunk. 

As the two of you pass by Argyle, he briefly lifts his head, cherry-shaded eyes peering up excitedly until Eddie quickly shakes his head, making the poor man sink back against the loveseat that he occupies with Jonathan and Nancy. You almost feel bad, but it’s clear Argyle is too far gone to even feel disappointment right now. 

“After you, m’lady,” Eddie chivalrously slides the door open for you, half-bowing and putting on a half-assed British accent as he sweeps his arm for you to exit onto the balcony first. 

“It’s Lady Gaga to you,” you snark as you slip out into the crisp Autumn air, cheeks cooling instantly. 

“Oh,” the door slides shut with a soft thud behind Eddie as he joins you, face immediately covered by the shadows of the evening, “My apologies.” 

It’s nice out. Far nicer than any October has been in the city in what feels like years. The air is refreshing, dare you even say sobering, and the city lights below wink at you as you hear all the distant noises of life. Car horns, children’s laughter, music from other parties. It sounds as though one of the neighbors below is blasting heavy rap, and you swear you can hear the trill of a radio pop song from your left. 

Beer, cider, pumpkin spice – it all fills the air. It’s Halloween, and it’s nice. 

The breeze is electric with all the livelihood, sending goosebumps up your arms as you approach the railing, looking out across a night sky painted some sort of faded cross between navy and grey rather than a stark black of midnight. 

It all turns to static the moment Eddie wraps his arms around your waist from behind you, heavy pack of cigarettes in his palm as his lips find solace in one of the few bare patches of skin on your shoulder. 

“God, I love Halloween,” he murmurs against you, his breath hot as it catches across your costume. 

God, I love you.

You can’t help the cheesy thought as a hand comes up to grip Eddie’s forearm, giving three short squeezes, pulling him just a tad bit closer. But it’s true – Halloween was wonderful, you’d always enjoyed any excuse to get together with your friends and family, but it had never felt quite like this. 

Planning cliche dates during the season, movie marathons spent cuddling up with your other half rather than sitting across on a couch from friends. Kisses in the pumpkin patch. Cider on his lips. Putting up decorations and ending up chasing each other around the apartment, landing in a pile of limbs that slot against one another perfectly. Arguing about which decorations should go on the balcony, which garland to line your front door with. 

It wasn’t a replacement for spending time with your friends. And there were still crude jokes, still bickering over timing of plans and locations to visit. It still felt like spending the holiday with friends – it was spending it with your best friend. 

Eddie Munson. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. The sentiment is unexpected to past you, but so entirely welcome by the you currently enveloped in his embrace.

“I used to insist on spending Halloween alone, you know,” you mumble as his chin digs in the point where your shoulder connects to your neck, vision blurring as you continue to stare out at the tiny busy streets, “Just, like, lay around in my dorm. Watch shitty horror movies on my laptop until I got too scared and had to find some dumb comedy to help me sleep. It was the only day of the year where my roommate sort of acknowledged my existence. She was the one who’d go out, and she’d get all this candy and share it with me.” 

You don’t know the point of your rambling, but Eddie is listening intently anyways. 

You turn carefully in his arms, now mesmerized by how his face looks in the warm glow of the seasonal lights Robin and Steve had put up. Shades of orange flickering across his amber eyes, shadows making all his sharpness in his features more prominent. 

“Talking about it now sounds kind of boring,” you muse, laughing a bit dryly, “The most festive thing I would do was going to the Halloween store with Robin and Steve once they opened.”

“Yeah?” he asks softly, arms still tangled around you, grinning gently, “I don’t think that’s too boring.” 

“It was,” you insist, pressing just a little closer to him, “God, it was so boring. Not going to the store with those idiots – I mean, that was pretty fun. But it was nothing compared to setting up a snake habitat, or carving pumpkins with you. Now I can watch whatever slasher you want before bed, and I still sleep just fine, cause I’ve got you to protect me.” 

His smile matches your own – radiant, proud, happy. 

“Oh, definitely,” he nods once, twice. So sure, ego inflated for the bit, “Any scary men with a chainsaw dare to break into our apartment, and I’ve got you, sweetheart.” 

Our apartment. The perfect ring to it. 

“Didn’t you scream about that spider in our apartment yesterday? Like, full on squeal, hopping up onto the couch, begging me to save you-” 

He cuts off all your teasing, even though it was true, with a kiss. Simple, strong, sure. Fingers dancing under your chin to pull you up to him, meeting you halfway and not even hiding his smile at your antics as he effectively shuts you up. 

“We agreed to not talk about that,” he mumbles against your lips, tasting like the last shot of whiskey he took with Nancy. 

“You agreed to not talk about it,” you pester back, trying to pull away from his kiss. But his other hand comes up, trapping your face between both his palms, and it’s a useless effort, “I just promised to not immediately share the photo of you up on the couch with everyone.” 

Half the words are hardly articulate as his lips continue to nip at yours, struggling from your wide smile and the way your entire body is shaking from your giggles. You can feel the cold metal of the railing brushing your exposed lower back, a breeze picking up that can be blamed for the goosebumps racing down your spine rather than Eddie’s wandering hand. It’s not devourment, it’s not desperation, it’s not Earth-shattering. 

It’s something like mending. Something like a promise. 

Living together, celebrating the holidays together, owning a pet together – they were all baby steps leading to something even brighter in the future. An unspoken truth between the both of you. An inevitable crescendo to all that had been built. 

Eddie whines a bit when you pull away again, but this time, your forehead stays pressed to his. A joint effort between the way you tilt your head and the way his hands press you against him.

“Do you remember the last time we were on a balcony together?” you ask in a low whisper, trying to mimic the same suggestive tone that he’s always been able to put on at the drop of a hat.

You’re not quite as talented as him. You’re actually just a giggly drunk.

His brows furrow, “What? This morning?” 

“No.” 

“Two nights ago, when you insisted Lestat needed to see the moon?”

“No.” 

“Are you talking about the afternoon we had a redo of our pumpkin carving contest? Because I still won again, fair and square, ba-”

“I’m talking about the bet, you idiot.” 

His fingertips press a bit deeper into your flesh, his lips forming a wobbly ‘o’ as he stares down at you, “How was I supposed to know you were referring to that? That was definitely not the last time we were on a balcony together-”

You shut him up with the same courtesy as he had done to you, adding in a roll of your eyes before your hands wrap around his neck to pull him into you. This time, you make it hot and heavy. Lips and teeth and tongues, grabby hands from the both of you making their way across all the exposed skin and scraps of costumes you two wear. It takes Eddie aback at first, clearly not expecting the sudden passion, but he recovers quickly. 

He remembers exactly what you’re referring to quickly. 

Your back collides a bit harsher with the railing as he rolls his body up against yours, not a breath of space between the two of you as he wedges his knee between your thighs. You have no idea where his pack of cigarettes has vanished to, but you don’t care. All you really care about is the way he’s holding you, the way he’s suffocating you, the way he’s watering you. 

It’s hard to believe the garden within that he’s nurtured at your side for the last year was ever something broken. That there was once a time it was nothing more than dried vines and pathetic blossoms begging to see the light of day. Now, the warmth of a thousand suns was gifted to you every morning you awoke to his smile. Every joke, every small caring act, every kiss stolen just because one of you felt like it. You two may have accidentally killed that first plant you bought the week you moved in properly with him, but this? 

You can’t imagine a day where the two of you ever might let this die off. 

His lips break from yours, predictably painting a path along your jaw as he murmurs, “I think I do remember. But, just in case – wanna remind me?” 

And for a second, you almost do. 

All your coils are tight across your body, burning in your abdomen and shaking in your knees, but all it takes is the faintest movement of a shadow to remember all your friends inside the apartment still. 

“We can’t,” you whisper, as if they might hear you in the glass, trying to pry yourself away from him just as his teeth start to graze your neck, “Seriously - we can’t.” 

Eddie chuckles lowly against your neck, and you know exactly why. 

You’d started this without even considering the consequences. 

“Started something you can’t finish, didn’t ya, baby?” 

Oh, damn him. That stupid low and teasing tone. That dimple you can feel brush against your skin as he moves his mouth to the other side of your neck. All the heat in your body travels south, pooling between your hips, aching for him to go against your wishes to avoid embarrassment and just finish this. 

He doesn’t, though. You’re starting to believe he’s less drunk than you are, a clearer mind than your own with far more sensibility than he seems capable of most of the time. His lips leave your neck, his hands finding the polite placement of hovering over your hips. The fog is starting to clear, if only just the slightest bit, and-

You were wrong. So, so wrong. 

He’s not sensible. That wicked hand placement was nowhere near polite. In an instant, he’s latched onto you tightly and spun you around, quickly bending you over against the railing so your chest presses into the metal and the cold sends shockwaves across your entire body. Your ass is pressed to his crotch and one hand holds you securely, tight enough that he can be sure you won’t fall, as the other crawls up your back at impeccable speed to press you further down. 

Immediately, you’re squealing, “Eddie!” 

His laughter is just as loud as all your protests as you come face-to-face with the true height of a three-story balcony, knuckles paling from gripping onto the bars. 

You’d hate him for it, but you feel the security of his palm and knuckles around your waist, and you know he’s not letting you go anywhere over that railing. He’s hardly even allowing your head to hang over it. 

The moment you start to lean back up against his hand on your back, he’s allowing it immediately. There’s no friction or fight as you stand up straight once more, back against his chest and your hands already prepared to swing back to smack him before both of his arms come up around your shoulders and cross your chest. 

“You asshole,” you gasp out, flailing hands deciding to grip strongly onto his forearms as he cradles you up in the tight embrace from behind, still chucking in your ear as you both take several steps back. Your heart pounds, and you’re pretty sure your nails are biting into his skin. 

Maybe they’ll leave a mark – you hope they sort of hurt. 

“Just had to make sure you really do remember that night,” he jokes, trying to lean his head far enough over your shoulder to get a good look at your face, “I think the bars would have been a bit more exposing, though, yeah?” 

Your nails dig in deeper, and his grin widens. 

Bastard.

“What if I had fallen?” you snap, finding it hard to be mad at him. Those damned strong arms around you, the thump of his own heart right against the space between your shoulder blades, that fucking dimple. 

“I wouldn’t have let you.”

If the two of you had children some day, would they have his dimples? 

“We’re both drunk-”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“-And I’m pretty sure this balcony isn’t up to OSHA standards-”

“Oh, it definitely isn’t.” 

“-And you almost left our poor son motherless,” you finish off with a forced scowl, shaking off his embrace to face him properly, “Are you prepared for that? Were you prepared to be a single father?” 

God, you hate his fucking smile. God, you hope if you have real kids someday, they have that same shit-eating grin. 

With a pout of his lips, he steps back up to you, looking down tauntingly, “You’re right, baby. I didn’t even think about poor Lestat.”

You hum, standing your ground, but your defenses are quickly crumbling. Your mind is running with too many thoughts, exhausting itself over everything except the residing anger you should feel at your absolute nuisance of a boyfriend. 

The feeling of being held down by him in that position once more. How the heat of his body had warmed you, and you’d only noticed now that the cool air was attacking your exposed back. Swimming in the visions of what color eyes your children might have, pigtail curls of a little girl with Eddie’s defiance or a little boy who wears his shit-eating grin as he exhibits your same unbreakable curiosity. 

You definitely shouldn’t have drank so much tonight. It doesn’t matter what kind of drunk you are – it was a bad idea regardless.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Eddie’s voice takes you out of your thoughts as he slides his arms around your waist, always needing to be touching you, clingy to a ridiculous degree. 

You weren’t complaining, though. How could you? If given the option, you’d make a home out of his bones in a fraction of a heartbeat as well. 

“Nothin’,” you lie through a sigh, head tilted dramatically, much preferring to focus on the ginger contours of Eddie’s cheeks than whatever future Jack Daniels had been painting in your mind. 

“Bullshit,” he doesn’t hesitate to call you out on it. And it’s not the alcohol fueling his boldness – it’s just how he is. He knows you better than the back of his hand, the roof of his mouth, his favorite songs on guitar. He knows you. “You got this dreamy look in your eyes, and you’re staring so hard over my shoulder, I’m almost scared I’ll turn around to see a ghost in the window-” 

Jack Daniels will be your arch nemesis after tonight, the culprit behind the way the words suddenly tumble out of your mouth, “Do you think we’ll have kids someday?” 

You wait for the air to leave the space between the two of you with the same urgency it’s left your lungs. You wait for a crack in the air, a chasm to suddenly appear. It’s heavy – God, it’s a heavy question to suddenly ask your boyfriend of one year at a Halloween party. You’re both drunk on your friends’ balcony, and you were having a perfectly sweet moment, and you’d just gone and ruined it. And to top it all off, Eddie was still just smiling, and- 

Wait. 

Eddie was smiling. 

The air was still there, filling his lungs with calm breaths. No sign of fear within his twinkling eyes. No chasm squeezing between the stitches holding you two together. 

He’s just smiling. 

“Is that really what you were thinking about?” he quietly asks.

You almost don’t want to answer. You almost want to force out cackles of fake laughter, to double over and face the ground rather than his humored expression. 

“Yeah.” 

Maybe he doesn’t believe you yet, maybe he has to double check before he breaks out into his own laughter. Maybe the alcohol in both your veins is just delaying the inevitable that you’d been originally expecting. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

Maybe not. 

Instead of laughter, instead of mocking you, he keeps a cheery expression as he shrugs softly, “I mean, maybe? I sort of hope so. And, don’t get me wrong, I know a kid is a pretty far leap from a snake, but I’d say we make a pretty good team at keeping living things…. Well, living, y’know? Besides, I solemnly swear I won’t try to name our kids after Tolkien. I’ll reserve those names for the pets.” 

All the air leaves your lungs again, but this time, it’s a little less painful, “What?” 

“Annie’s a cute name,” he continues on, completely unphased. It’s nearly impossible to remember that you were the one who had started such a serious conversation about the future, “I also like the name Parker. I remember you mentioned that one once, right? Something about being able to nickname the kid Pac-Man, I’m pretty sure. I think that’d be pretty sick.” 

And oh, was he right. You had mentioned the name Parker once. Just not to him. Not directly, at least.

The entire ridiculous make-believe scenario had come to you during a girls’ night, after one too many glasses of wine and Nancy bringing up the topic. You, her, and Robin had all spent a good hour coming up with names for children and the best nicknames to suit them. Some had been genuine, and some had been for nothing more than shits and giggles. 

Parker, and the nickname Pac-Man, had been serious for you. Parker Anthony. You hadn’t figured out a second middle name to complete the initial acronym of Pac that night, the rosé eventually getting to you, but you had been serious. 

“You were listening that night?” you breathe out, only feeling slightly betrayed, “What the Hell? I thought you said you were going to put your headphones on and listen to some Metallica to unwind after work.”

“I lied,” he cheeses, hot palms against your barren lower back, “I’m nosey. Sue me.” 

“You could have just joined us, Eddie.” 

“And miss the chance to hear you plot out the middle names of our future children?” Eddie snorts, “Not a chance, sweetheart.” 

He says it so casually, you wonder if it’s possible for a heart to burst from optimism. 

“So,” you pause, take a deep breath, feeling the embarrassment creep back up your throat, “Is that, uh…. Is that a yes? That you do think so?”

Why was it so hard to repeat yourself, to just say the words already spoken? 

Eddie had made it clear you had nothing to lose. You two were on the same page. He hadn’t scoffed in your face, he hadn’t even pulled away at the mere mention of the idea. Instead, he had leaned fully into it, head-first as he slid right into the imaginary future with you. He’d given a name to the little girl with his hair and his spunk, to the little boy with his dimples and his mischief. 

Was it still a little too soon, too fast? Was that where the hesitation was born from? 

It just all felt a bit too easy. After the rocky start you two had endured, this entire last year had just felt too simple. 

Of course, even if the hesitation was sitting there in the pit of your stomach alongside all of your anxieties, all of your waiting for the other shoe to drop, Eddie easily soothes it all over as he gives a slow nod and responds, “Yeah. I do – I really do.” 

And you clearly wear your heart on your sleeve, emotions painted across your eyes and cheeks for him to read clear as day, because he notices that catch in your breath.

“Not right now,” he rushes to add on, “I mean, listen, we’re still adjusting to Lestat. I think I’d like to be a cat dad too, before I even think about being a girl dad.” 

“You’re gonna be a girl dad?” you laugh out without thinking, starting to thaw into a conversation that Jack Daniels had begun but you know you can surely finish with Eddie at your side, “That’s… unexpected.” 

His face scrunches for the first time during the entire conversation, “What? You don’t think I’d be a good girl dad? I already deal with my rat’s nest of hair, so I know I’d be at least decent at braiding. And can you imagine getting to take a mini-you to shows, or buying her some cute unicorn helmet once she’s old enough to ride ol’ Nightfury? God, I think I might die from cuteness overload…”

Your cheeks are aching, ears ringing with his words. But all you can do is latch onto one little phrase: mini-you. 

Here you were, picturing duplicates of Eddie bounding around the two of you, and you hadn’t considered what he might be seeing. 

Not a child with his spunk. No, he’s seeing a little girl with your wit. A little boy with your stubbornness. Those eyes of his, nearly resembling heart-shapes at this point, weren’t wanting to see carbon copies of his whiskey irises. He wanted yours to be looking back up at him. 

Hearts clearly can’t burst from an overload of optimism, of happiness. Yours beats wildly as proof, still intact behind your ribs that bloom with rosebuds for the boy pressed to your front. 

“Mini-me?” you murmur, making him trail off, focused entirely on you so sincerely you could choke up. You shake your head, letting out a soft huff of air, smiling down at the ground, “No, I- I think you’ll be an amazing dad, Eddie. I just didn’t…. I just forgot…”

“That I’m with you all the way?” he finishes your sentence for you, one eyebrow arched as he gives a squeeze to one of your hips, “You could decide tomorrow you don’t even want to talk about having a kid ever again, that you’d rather get ten more snakes and live as some sort of cryptic couple somewhere in the Midwest the rest of our lives, and I’d be just as excited. I don’t really care where we end up, sweetheart – I just care that it’s with you,” You can no longer tell if it’s his words or the remnants of alcohol in your system that has you tearing up. All you know is that you are, and it’s ridiculous, but it’s fine, because all you see are dark brown eyes and entire realms of possibility in front of you, “Girl dad, snake dad, cat dad – whatever you need from me, I’m your guy.”

When the first tear falls, you're quick to shoot one hand up to your cheek in order to swipe it away as the other reaches out blindly to smack Eddie softly, “Shut up. Stop being cheesy. I’m too drunk for this.” 

“You’re right,” he nods ferociously, taking over the duty of wiping away your tears without so much as mentioning it, “Wanna make out again instead?” 

You let out a snort, and it eggs him on. 

“Or, hey,” his eyes light up, some of the seriousness of the moment fading naturally, “Maybe we ditch this party and start practicing. You know, in case we still want kids someday.” 

His pupils widen a bit, and you know surely that it’s only half a joke. You don’t miss the way his breathing picks up at the thought.

“Careful, big boy,” you tease, leaning into his feathery touch on your cheek, relishing the way the nickname draws him under your spell even when you aren’t saying it with an ounce of gravity, “It’d be awfully dangerous to get yourself worked up in such short shorts.” 

Saying it outloud almost makes you want to see it, genuinely. 

“Worked up?” he scoffs, backing up a little, caught off-guard, “Who says I’m getting worked up? I’m not getting worked up.” 

It doesn’t matter how many steps back he takes from you, you still follow, your palm still lands dead center on his chest as you roll your eyes, “Right. Because I’m totally meant to believe that the guy who used to jack off to Playboy magazines with girls who looked like me isn’t going to pop a boner at the thought of fucking a baby into me-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Nearly more resembling a bite, his canines digging right into your bottom lip as he pulls you forward and collapses back against the glass door behind him. 

No words are spoken, no subtle interruptions for this kiss. Toying a dangerous line, dancing along a narrow cliff, and he’s the one who’s decided to drag the two of you off of it. 

You don’t mind. You’d follow him to the ends of the world if he asked you to. 

When one of his hands reaches up to your scalp, tugging at the roots of your hair for no other reason than he can, your mouth opens up into a silent laugh. An invitation, a jeer, a challenge. A quiet whisper of go ahead, do it. Consume me already. 

He’s already everything to you. He’s already a definition of home thinly veiled with skin and bones, a future with a heartbeat. 

His tongue down your throat doesn’t change the matter. Just reclaims it. 

A whine is lost in translation somewhere from the back of your throat and right into his cheeks. His right hand wraps around some of the skin of one of your thighs, encouraging it to lift up to his hip, and you can still feel the memory of his usual rings imprinting into your skin. A permanent tattoo, a ghost of a feeling that’ll haunt you for all time – you love it. You want to live there forever, right here in this haunted house, collecting memories and dust of all that he is. 

Haunted houses are only lonely when you’re left to wander these halls all by yourself, and you think he’d truly cross over into the actual afterlife rather than leave you like that. 

The kiss is almost enough to forget where you are and who’s waiting on you inside the apartment. It’s almost enough to have you recreating that fateful night from over a year ago, to let him bend you back over this balcony railing again, and this time, any squeals you let out won’t be of fear. You’d face that fall head on.

His hot hands on your waist, his tongue in your cheek, his knee once again pressed between your inner thighs. Him, him, him-

A sharp rap sounds on the sliding door behind Eddie, and you’ve never jumped apart faster. 

It’s Robin and Nancy at the door, Lestat happily wrapped around Robin’s forearm as she waves and points eagerly to him and Nancy simply crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow as though she might have been a disappointed mother rather than a friend at the moment. 

You done? Robin mouths, exaggerating her silent enunciation. 

As you nod, Eddie only deeply sighs, throwing his head back against the glass with a soft thump. Nancy is quick to throw out a palm against the glass and tap back at him, mimicking swatting him for his theatrics. 

Eddie pays no mind to Nancy’s retaliation, or maybe he just doesn’t see it, as he whines out, “I didn’t even get my cigarette.”

“Oh, cut it out, drama queen,” you snicker, trying to hide all your breathlessness as you fully pull away, “We’ve left our son alone long enough. You can chainsmoke to your heart’s desire once we get back home.” 

You’re already walking towards the door, Nancy and Robin having retreated further into the kitchen, when he catches your wrist to tug you back close to him. He leans down, deliberate and careful to make sure his lips catch against the lobe of your ear, whispering soft as night, “Can’t chainsmoke if I’m too busy fucking a baby into you, sweetheart.” 

It feels like someone’s poured literal fire across your body. As if flames have been dumped over the crown of your head, and are licking their pathway down your spine. 

“Eddie.” 

If you don’t get inside within the next ten seconds, you’re definitely going to make a decision you regret. 

He’s chuckling the entire time he steps around you, opening the door and waving for you to slip inside in front of him. Your entire body is still burning so violently, you barely register the way his fingers hang at his side and make a point to brush the back of your thigh when you pass him. 

Bastard, you want to snipe, but instead you just smile. 

—

The next morning, you’re awoken by the incessant pinging of your phone. 

You try to ignore it at first, burying your head deeper beneath the covers as a headache pulses at the edges of your mind, but after the fifth ping, it becomes impossible. 

“Who the fuck is texting us this early?” Eddie’s muffled voice complains into his pillow, facedown with one arm thrown across you securely. 

You can even feel him kick his bare legs in a show of defiance next to yours at the edge of the bed. If it wasn’t for the late night prior catching up to you, it’d be something sweet to laugh at. 

“What time is it?” you croak, scooching further up the bed, making Eddie’s arm around you only tighten. As if he can stop you from getting out of bed, or delay the inevitable by resisting you checking the phone, “Is it even early?” 

His free arm that had been tucked below his pillow flings out to the bedside table quickly, grabbing blindly for at least one of your phones. It doesn’t really matter if it’s yours or his; he’s got the password to both. 

“It’s eight in the fucking morning,” he curses, seeming more awake as he notices that he was right in it being early. “How in the fuck is anyone up right now? We didn’t leave until nearly three.”

His arm is finally loose enough for you to sit up properly, tugging the comforter with you to keep your bare chest covered, “Lemme see it.” 

“If it’s Harrington, can you post my bail for murder?” 

“You’re not killing Steve,” you nonchalantly reply as you snatch the phone right out of his hand. It had been yours, unsurprisingly. You don’t even know if Eddie remembered to put his own phone on the charger before the two of you had promptly passed out. You hardly even remember how you managed to do so, “But – yeah, it’s Steve.” 

“Fucking Harringt-”

“And Robin. And Jonathan.” 

“Have I mentioned I hate our friends?” 

The fog of sleep has officially lifted for you, and despite the wave of fatigue and aching joints you’d argue you’re far too young to be experiencing right now, you smile at your grumpy boyfriend. He exchanges his pillow for your stomach, shoving his entire cheek tightly to you as his arms wrap around you slowly. Clinging to you like a child, squinting against what little light pours in through the curtains. 

“You don’t hate them,” you murmur, holding the phone in one hand to get a better look at the phone as the other cards through his curls, “You hate mornings.” 

He hmphs in agreement, relaxing against your makeshift scalp massage. 

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A PHOTO OF ME WITH A SNAKE IN THIS CHAT? 

BIRDIE: it is too early to be yelling

DINGUS: oh my bad

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK DID YOU, ROBIN, SEND A PHOTO OF A SNAKE IN THIS FUCKING CHAT? WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE IS THAT?

You can’t help the gasp that leaves your mouth as you begin to see what the entire commotion was, and Eddie is lifting his head immediately.

“What?” he questions, moving to lift himself up and peer over the top of the phone, nosier than ever, “Why did you gasp? Is someone dead?” 

You scroll up, finding the photo being referred to.

“Not yet.” 

Steve, clearly partaking in another round of karaoke. Eyes glazed over, mid stumble based on the blur. 

“What do you mean not yet?” 

Most impressively, most notably, is the snake around his neck. 

Lestat, without a care in the world, his upper body being cradled by Steve’s palm as your drunk friend appears to be serenading the snake. 

You bite back your smile, eyebrows high as you glance down at Eddie, “You remember when we let Steve sing Taylor Swift while holding Lestat? About… two and a half drinks after he finally noticed we had him, and he didn’t flip out courtesy to all that Absolute vodka?” 

“Oh, fuck me.” 

Eddie flings himself back to the edge of the bed in search of his phone just as another notification pings. 

JOHNNY: I’ll do you one better. I have a video.

You don’t know if you’ve ever watched Eddie excitedly type on his phone faster than he does once he’s read that message, already giggling like a fool long before you can see what he’s sent in the chat. 

LOVER BOY: Johnny, my boy, you can’t just say that and NOT send it.

JOHNNY: Unlike you, I don’t have a death wish. 

DINGUS: WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE WAS IT? IS IT EDDIE’S? 

YOU: i will not stand for this erasure of me as lestat’s mother. 

Eddie snorts and looks up at you with glee as he reads your response, “He’s going to kill us, isn’t he?” 

“Can we be buried next to each other?” you respond with a question instead, looking at him lazily, “We could have matching headstones.” 

“Oh, hell yeah,” his grin is worth whatever Hell there may come to pay with Steve and the Lestat debacle last night, “Should we look up designs or-” 

He’s cut off by the trill ringing of his own phone, watching several messages roll into the groupchat in quick succession. 

DINGUS: who the fuck is lestat?

BIRDIE: the snake, dingus. 

NANCE: As someone who has seen the video… I think Jonathan should send it. 

DINGUS: DON’T YOU DARE

You’re a mess of hoarse giggles, hardly able to look at Eddie for the fear of both of you descending right into a madness of laughter. Like two children staying up too late at a sleepover, the room rings out with all your little noises, Eddie propping up his chin to watch you with the widest of smiles. 

Except you’re not children – you’re just two idiots, in your shared apartment, with your shared snake in the living room and your shared friends blowing up both your phones. 

Mornings have never felt quite as sweet as this kind. 

“We’re gonna hear an earful next time he sees us, aren’t we?” Eddie finally sighs wistfully, rolling over flat on his back, head propped up slightly in your lap. 

“Oh, definitely,” you nod, taking to twirling his frizzed curls around your knuckles this time rather than scratching mindlessly at his scalp, “But who cares? You saw how in love with the snake he was after a few drinks. He’ll come around, sober this time.”

Eddie doesn’t reply, eyes fluttering shut. 

You let the two of you sit in the quiet a bit longer, phones still buzzing with new messages, but the chaos can wait. For now, you just want to drink it in. Rays of vivid sunlight, the silence from the lack of the buzzing AC unit, the birds chirping annoyingly outside the window. You have one foot in relaxation, and one foot in the hangover you know you’ll have to battle once you choose to leave this bed. 

“You know what sounds good?” you question, nearly under your breath. You’re really thinking outloud more than anything, but Eddie still entertains you with a hum in his tired state, “Betty’s.” 

He’s the equivalent of a puppy dog who’s heard the word walk. One second, Eddie Munson is seemingly dead to the world, and the next, he’s perked up entirely. If it wasn’t for his nude state, he’d probably already be out the door with his keys in hand, dragging you right along with him. 

His eyes shimmer despite heavy lids as he asks, “Almond croissants?” 

A small nod, an ever present smile. You recall the conversation from the night before as you look into those deep russet eyes, and you see an entire future of late nights and almond croissants reflected back. 

“Almond croissants.”

[rheya28]

Darlington Castle [ Wedding Venue ] ♥ The Sims 4: Build // CC

Welcome to Darlington Castle, a beautiful wedding venue located on the Island of Windenburg. This one of a kind venue is known for not only its iconic architecture and stunning views but also for its timeless elegance and romantic atmosphere, making a popular destination to hold weddings and other occasions.  Whether you’re planning an intimate ceremony or a grand celebration, Darlington Castle is the perfect setting for your sims dream wedding.

➽ Speed Build Video

➽ Rheya's Notes:

Programming includes an indoor and outdoor ceremonial space, an indoor and outdoor reception hall, suites for both the bride's and the groom's bridal party. Additionally, this venue also include a kitchen and multiple private bedrooms for the newly weds and their wedding entourage.

NOTE: The exterior of this venue was based on Villa Erba

➽ Important Notes:

● Please make sure to turn bb.moveobjects on! ● Please DO NOT reupload or claim as your own. ● Feel free to tag me if you are using it, I love seeing my build in other peoples save file ● Feel free to edit/tweak my builds, but please make sure to credit me as the original creator! ● Thank you to all CC Creators ● Please let me know if there's any problem with the build

➽Lot Details

Lot Name: Darlington Castle Lot type: Wedding Venue Lot size: 64x64 Location: Windenburg Island

➽ MODS:

TOOL MOD by TwistedMexi

➽ CC LIST:

Note: I reuse a lot of the same cc in all my builds, specifically cc's from felixandre, HeyHarrie, and Pierisim so if you're interested in downloading past, present, future build from me i suggest getting all their cc sets to make life a little easier! other creators include Sooky, Charlypancakes, Sixam, Thecluttercat, Myshunosun, awingedllama.

Joyceisfox: Simple Live (Bathroom, Blooming plant) S- Imagination: Rutland Kitchen Felixandre: Colonial (all), Chateau (all), Fayun, Berlin pt (1), Florence (all), Georgian, Gothic Revival, Grove (all), Kyoto pt (2), London exterior & interior, Paris (all), Jardane, Shop the look, SOHO, Tudor Sooky: Horizontal oil Painting (Landscape, Still life), Vertical oil paintings (landscape, still life, portrait) Awingedllama: Nostaligia Living Felixandre x Harrie: Baysic, Harluxe, Livin Rum, Orjanic (all) Bbygyal123: Minimal Prints Charlypancakes: Chalk, Lavish, Miscellanea, Smoll, Telly Harrie: Heritage, Brownstone Collection, Brutalist, Coastal (all), Shop the look 2, Spoons Madame Ria: Back to basic floor Myshunosun: Midsummer Eve Arsbotanica: Peonies bouquet Pierisim: Auntie Vera, Coldbrew (all), Domain du clos (all), MCM pt (2)(3), Oak house (all), Winter garden pt (1), Woodland ranch (all) Charlypancakes x Pierisim: Precious Promises Simplistic: Magnolia Cottage Rugs, Rug Holland Sixam: Stylistwood Nursery Simten: Playable Harp (mod) thecluttercat: Sunnysundae pt (3), Dandy Diary Syboulette: Nothing to wear Taurus Design: Eliza walk in closet Other CC Cowbuild: Family Kitchen (sink flowers only), Blooming Garden cafe (Hanging wisteria only) [ I think these are locked behind paywall, but you dont really need to download as they are not too important.

● DOWNLOAD Tray File and CC list: Patreon Page ● Origin ID: anrheya [previous name: applez] ● Twitter: Rheya28__ ● Tiktok: Rheya28__ ● Youtube: Rheya28__

[deesseshesca]

PAC: Why does your partner find u irresistible ?  (18+)

October is about to get real spooky....

Good morning pretty soul ! I am so excited ... IS OFFICIALLY KINKTOBER ! For the whole month of October on my Ko-fi and Tumblr we are getting real nastyyyyyy! Everyday I will be dropping a reading. Whether it be here or on my ko-fi ... if you don't want to miss anything you can purchase my A.N.G.E.L soul tribe for the audio+moodboard+written PAC OR B.A.B.Y. soul tribe for my written only + moodboard PAC.

IS NOT ALL. Until October 7, just to finish up the love edition I started, you can purchase a reading for your future lover for 20$. ANDDDD my SEX Douala are now on sale for 25$

Rules and Disclaimer 

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else.

MINOR DON'T INTERACT WITH THIS POST 

MINOR DON’T READ THIS POST 

PILE 1 

9 cups (revere), 10 wands (reverse), Hermit (reverse), Star (reverse)

They find you irresistible because you are boring. Y’all remind me of the beige character in Lazytown. You are probably the mother/father of your group of friends. You rather stay inside than to be the life of the party. You prefer being in a comfy spot with your fav blankie reading a book or even watching anime. Also you don’t mastubate and there is no dark reason nor strong conviction, it doesn't have any effect on you. You don’t really care for it. They find your kinda self control sexy. Plus you are a very logical person and you don’t date around. You also don’t fall for the glitz and glam of the world. The fact that you are not easily entertained and you choose them as yours make them feel wanted. The way you treat them is hella hot.

💌:Imma throw this here because I know y'all don't be reading intro. Y'all be to excited : IS OFFICIALLY KINKTOBER ! For the whole month of October on my Ko-fi and Tumblr we are getting real nastyyyyyy! Everyday I will be dropping a reading. Whether it be here or on my ko-fi ... if you don't want to miss anything you can purchase my A.N.G.E.L soul tribe for the audio+moodboard+written PAC OR B.A.B.Y. soul tribe for my written only + moodboard PAC.

IS NOT ALL. Until October 7, just to finish up the love edition I started, you can purchase a reading for your future lover for 20$. ANDDDD my SEX Douala are now on sale for 25$.

PILE 2 

5 cups, Queen wands, 7 swords, page of cups

They find your clinginess irresistible. I feel like past lovers often hated how physical you are. I just heard someone say: ‘’Get a life already !’’. But the one you have now loves your hug, kisses, hand holding, hair playing and back rubbing that you keep doing because physical touch is your love language. You are literally a sex symbol pile 2, before you get all self conscious on me … just know that Marilyn Monroe is a sex symbol, so is Kylie Jenner and Angelina Jolie let me throw Esther Jones and Precious (Top model) ,all different symbols and all very much SEX ! So now you can stop comparing yourself to the standard and realize you are born  with it. You have it or you don’t. A lot of y’all reading this have hip dip but baby that bubble butt… hun… let me catch my breath real quick. I feel like a lot of your ‘’wannabe’’ lovers try to get with you just for your body. I’m hearing : ‘’ Cauze 99.9% of this fuckboys can’t fuck me !’’ PERIDOT ! I know that’s right. They think you dumb for not catching their hints but I just heard someone say : ‘’ It's not my fault I refuse to speak the bum language …’’. Just so you know pile 2, I’m taking that iconic statement from you for my next insta post. It does not stop here, y’all be so skillful in the bedroom. Most of y’all have a girly girl aesthetic (even if you are a goth it still has a very feminine touch to it) so people think y’all are pillow princesses/princes. If you are a man it is because you have a clean look to you. But y’all be doing tricks on a dick. I heard  the tiktok sound that goes : ‘’ Bus, club and another club no sleep’’ but for you it be ‘’ handjob , cuddlefuck, doggy and missionary ‘’. So I ask : ‘’ All in one round …’’. Your energy : ‘’I am a ride they won't survive …’’ OK ! PILE 2! I SEE YOU! The sexiest thing of it all is the fact that you are very loyal. Y’all be having your partner as a lock screen, as your profile pic or even on your boxer or panties. If you play video games, you might get your equipment costume with their picture. That together makes you a hottie !

💌: Imma throw this here because I know y'all don't be reading intro. Y'all be to excited : IS OFFICIALLY KINKTOBER ! For the whole month of October on my Ko-fi and Tumblr we are getting real nastyyyyyy! Everyday I will be dropping a reading. Whether it be here or on my ko-fi ... if you don't want to miss anything you can purchase my A.N.G.E.L soul tribe for the audio+moodboard+written PAC OR B.A.B.Y. soul tribe for my written only + moodboard PAC.

IS NOT ALL. Until October 7, just to finish up the love edition I started, you can purchase a reading for your future lover for 20$. ANDDDD my SEX Douala are now on sale for 25$.

PILE 3 

4 pentacles (reverse), knight wands (reverse), page of wands, 7 pentacles. 

You guys are dangerous. Fucking dangerous. You are the reason  why a love witch is always going to catch a check. People are getting cut ties spell  because of the impact you have on them. You are the soul tie final boss. If you are a owner of dick you are out here hitting it raw having those ladies often older than you thinking maybe a baby with my sneak link ain’t that bad (shake my motherfucking head) . Is not their fault. Is yours. You are out here whispering bullshit but that good bullshit. I’m hearing : ‘’ I’m yours baby …’’, 'Are you almost there princess…’’, ‘’ I know baby, I know it is too much but you can give me one more …’’. Hey ! where y’all think you are going ? Yes, you , women ! Out here making men double your age believe they still got it. What’s irresistible about this group is that y’all are loving lovers. For the women, I am channeling a dilf that you met while traveling. You are out there living life like a Lana Del Rey video clip. You let that man slide it in raw, because for you it is just for fun. Pile 3, you cannot trick me. First y’all don’t use condoms, some of y’all are allergic to it. But you still don’t use birth control out here timing yourself with your natural calendar. God do be having  favorites ! That older man was mesmerized by your moaning and the way you speak some life into their sexual skills. Making them think they're the best. Loving lover + big dick/gripping pussy+smooth talk and sexy moan = Irresistible to the point of insanity .

💌: The lover that I channel for this collective whether it be the girls/boys they are done trying to manifest you back in their life. But they still miss the intimacy your share. Imma throw this here because I know y'all don't be reading intro. Y'all be to excited : IS OFFICIALLY KINKTOBER ! For the whole month of October on my Ko-fi and Tumblr we are getting real nastyyyyyy! Everyday I will be dropping a reading. Whether it be here or on my ko-fi ... if you don't want to miss anything you can purchase my A.N.G.E.L soul tribe for the audio+moodboard+written PAC OR B.A.B.Y. soul tribe for my written only + moodboard PAC.

IS NOT ALL. Until October 7, just to finish up the love edition I started, you can purchase a reading for your future lover for 20$. ANDDDD my SEX Douala are now on sale for 25$.

[redfluffz]

Do the archangels have nicknames for each other?

Okay, okay that's a fun one!

Lucifer aka Samael

> Sammy (by all in heaven)

> Troublemaker, The Walking Chaos, Pest, Dumbo, Stupid, "I swear I'm gonna kill ya!" ... many more (by angered Gabriel)

> Helel (by God and Metatron [cause he thinks he super special when using that name])

> Ugly Swadoron (by Metatron, Swadoron ducklikely creature in heaven, the og story of "ugly duck" is actually invented by Metatron)

> Lord Samael, Lord Morningstar, Great Morningstar (by lower angels)

> Luci (by God, Ozzie, Mammon, Leviathan, Lilith, Eve/Roo), Luc/Lu (Bee, Belle, Ozzie, Leviathan), Lulu (by Lilith)

> Devil, Satan, The Evil, etc. (by many humans)

> Light/Heart of heaven (title)

Michael

> Mike (by all his siblings)

> Empty Shell (by Metatron)

> Mikeeeey (when Luc wants something)

> Sir Michael (by all of the soldiers)

> Lord Michael (by all lower angels)

> Protector of heaven (title)

Gabriel

> Gabe (by all of her siblings)

> Hothead (by Metatron)

> "Please don't kill me!" (by frightened Luc)

> Miss Gabriel, Archive master (by all of her "employes")

> Lady Gabriel (by all lower angels)

> Head of communication and logistics (title)

Jophiel

> Queen, Beauty Icon, Princess Pretty, etc. (Fans in heaven)

> Joph/Jophi (by all of her siblings)

> Little Narcissa (by Metatron)

> Lady Jophiel (by all lower angels)

> Sweet little princess (by God)

Raphael

> Doc, Doctor (by patients)

> Raph (by all of his siblings)

> Medical Disaster (by Metatron)

> Lord Raphael (by lower angels)

Azrael

> Death, etc. (by many humans)

> Azi (by all of his siblings)

> Sleep Emo (Metatron)

> Lord Azrael (by lower angels)

Ariel

> Little freak (Jophiel)

> Unknown (Metatron)

> Lady Ariel (by lower angels)

Well that's what I got so far. There could be some changes in the future.

Anyway, thanks for asking! ✨️

[mikufigureoftheday]

i dont own any miku figurines and i dont think i ever will but as an artist i love seeing all the fun outfits and hairstyles and getting design inspiration

anyways if you want. do you have any mikus with creative approaches to miku's hairstyle? its always fun to see how people can play with pigtails

People really do go ham with their Miku designs sometimes, including her pigtails!!

The Design Coco figures are always doing something interesting it seems

The Bitter Patissier one has cute swirly hair and the Modern China one has cute chunky bun braids

I've always liked the Cinnamoroll ones lil updo to match her bunny companion and the massive Future Eve one is always iconic

[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

[hotvintagepoll]

Just a thought for future polls, can we do hot vintage fits?

Like what’s the one fashion piece that makes everyone hotter? Glasses vs sweater vests. Beards vs mustaches. Fedoras vs trench coats. Endless possibilities and disproportionately strong opinions.

Hot vintage fits as a category seems too broad to me (so many different styles of glasses and trench and beard!), but I would be totally down for a Hot Vintage Iconic Costume tournament. Something like—

[bejeweledblondie]

Fairytale Wedding

Captain John Price x F! Royalty Reader

Summary: a continuation of “A Knight in Shining Amor” After Y/N had recovered from her injuries she started to court Captain John Price. Even attending Trooping the Color with him. Soon a Royal proposal happened & the big wedding day is upon us

Warnings: Mention of a wedding night

Y/N had been waiting for this day ever since she was the flower girl at her Aunt Mary’s wedding. Years of preparation went into this ceremony, all the way from the tiara she was to select from her grandmother’s collection to the flowers in her bouquet. She had waited years to find a man suitable for her, then came along John. He had saved her life & she grew fond of him. Over the past year they had been courting each other & attending formal events. However behind the privacy of the palace walls it was a whole different story. She was able to see that tender side of him & he was able to see her without all the Royal protocol. He was used to seeing her in a gorgeous ballgown, or all done up but he found her most beautiful in blue jeans.

So here she stood in front of the golden gilded mirror in her bedroom. Her wedding dress had been designed custom by Christian Dior & was adorned with beautiful floral appliqués representing each of the Commonwealth countries. It had a high neck resembling Grace Kelly’s iconic wedding dress & her veil was a cathedral length. The blusher draped over her face & went down to her elbows. She looked the epitome of what a royal bride was to be. John’s niece, Evelyn was in seventh heaven & couldn’t believe that his new aunt was a duchess. When she saw her new aunt in her wedding dress her eyes lit up.

“Auntie Y/N,” Her little voice squeaked out. She turned around to see the little girl looking up at her. “You are the prettiest princess I’ve ever seen.” She bent down & hugged the little girl.

“Thank you Eve,” Y/N replied. “And I’m sure you’ll make a wonderful bridesmaid.”

Price’s sister, Katherine & her sister now the Princess of Wales Caroline came in. Both were wearing the custom pale blue gowns that had been designed for them. Katherine picked up Eve & Caroline helped Y/N with the train.

“Ready to go?” Caroline asked. Caroline had already experienced her own wedding day & knew the jitters that Y/N was experiencing. Then started to walk out of the room & into the hallway. The private photographer they had hired was already snapping candid photos. Y/N started down the staircase & saw all of the palace staff watching her. She gave a soft smile in their direction they had seen her grow up & were a vital part of her upbringing. They were of equal importance to her that she shared this day with them.

She finally reached the bottom & walked to where the carriage was parked. Katherine put Evelyn in first & then helped Y/N with her gown. Caroline was near the steps into the carriage to lend a hand to make sure she didn’t fall. Once inside & seated next to Evelyn both ladies joined them. The foot man climbed up & grabbed onto the reigns.

“You ready your highness?” He asked.

“Yes I am! Let’s go!” She replied. Evelyn was practically bouncing in her seat it was the first time she was in a carriage & was absolutely elated. The childlike wonder of her future niece made Y/N wonder what her future children will be like. Soon they were off towards the large brass & golden gates of Buckingham Palace. Screaming crowds of people from all over the world lined the streets. Y/N waved to the people & Evelyn being the social butterfly she was yelled “hello” & waved. Katherine couldn’t help but laugh at her child soaking in the royal treatment.

The sun was out & shown down on the carriage. Y/N’s tiara she had on loan from her grandmother reflected off of the sunlight creating a bright effect. It just added to the beauty of the day. Finally they pulled up to the Westminster Abbey, & her dress was able to be put on full display. Katherine, Evelyn, & Caroline all stepped out before letting Y/N out. Caroline held out an arm while Katherine held onto Y/N’s bouquet & Evelyn.

Once Y/N was out of the carriage the already cheering crowds erupted into louder cheers. Katherine handed her the bouquet & held onto Evelyn’s hand as they started to walk into the cathedral. The priest was waiting for her at the front doors. He grabbed one her hands & gave her some words of endearment to help calm her nerves. Very similar to the ones he gave to John earlier.

At the alter John stood there staring at the thousands people. His team was in the second row all smiles. Ghosh was Simon today, he had ditched his skull mask for a clean shave. Soap showed up in a kilt to represent Scotland. Gaz was there for a good time & to represent his Captain. John hadn’t been this nervous since his first mission. He hadn’t felt this way about anyone ever, she was his whole world. He knew that the moment he visited her in the hospital. The organ started up & the choir started to sing a religious hymn. The crowd stood up & watched as the religious dignitaries walked first lead by the priest.

Then his beloved niece & older sister. He smiled at her as she waved excitedly while throwing petals. It made him wonder what the future children Y/N & him would have. Soon he saw his beloved, looking absolutely ravishing. She radiated pure love & the sunlight from the Abbey’s skylight make her sparkle. Tears started to well in John’s eyes when he saw her. Finally she had reached the alter, & after handing her bouquet to Caroline he took her left hand.

“You look beautiful.” He whispered to her.

“You look handsome.” She whispered back. He really did know how to pull off a British Army Officer’s dress uniform. The ceremony was long but the both of them soaked up every minute. Once the ceremony was complete, they had started to make their way together down the aisle. He had looked over to his team & Soap gave him two thumbs up. John shook his head & chucked.

After carriage ride through the streets of cheering of crowds who wanted to get a glimpse of the newly weds they had finally reached the palace. While the guests were starting to arrive for the reception Y/N & John along with their families were in the sitting room that the main balcony is connected to. John couldn’t stop staring at his bride, she was the most of beautiful thing he had ever laid his eyes on. It was clear her inner beauty reflected outwards. She had bumped into him & he had grabbed onto her waist insuring she didn’t fall.

“Jonathan Price, that better be your sword poking me.” She giggled.

“Its definitely a sword my dear but one you’ll see later on.” He whispered back into her ear causing her to blush. It was soon time for them to grace the balcony that was looking out onto the crowds celebrating the wedding. It was customary the couples saved their kiss for the balcony with the entire royal family.

With Y/N & John in the front both families surrounded them. The crowds were screaming “kiss her” over & over again. John placed his hands at her waist & took her in for a deep kiss. The roar from the crowd was amplified once they saw them lock lips. Once they broke apart they rest their foreheads against each others.

“I love you.” She said & looked into his eyes.

“I love you more.” He said & pulled her in for another kiss.

[dwightschrute11]

favorite ocs/mcs in the hl fandom?

Thank you for this ask anon!! I have so many MCs I could fawn over in fifteen page essays, but here are the ones off the top of my head in no particular order. This is a long list so prepare yourself.

@ladyofsappho’s Nettie Mulloy, who is such a strong, well written character with a super intriguing backstory and story, which you can read in the creators *AMAZING* fic the Nettie Chronicles, one of my favorite fics. Not to mention her swoon worthy relationship with her girlfriend, Mia Boyensberry, who I also love dearly. She is a witty, sweet, and caring witch with a story just as epic as Nettie’s. And of course, there’s Carlotta Ellerbee, who may be Nettie and Mias enemy but has my heart in A CHOKEHOLD. She is fashionable, badass, gorgeous, and not only has stolen my heart but Calypsos as well 💕

@silvyadrakkons Lyssa Edwards , who is SO AWESOME! She may be short but she is badass, hilarious, gorgeous, caring, and one of calypsos best friends 🥹💕💕 she is an amazing MC and her pal Morgan the chicken is just as incredible. Not to mention Calypso will forever be fighting with Sebastian for Lyssas heart 😂💕

@ethniees Inger Eve Nilsdott, another absouletly *INCREDIBLE* MC who, despite the creators words, I have NOT. drawn. ENOUGH. Badass, hilarious, iconic, I am so happy to call her one of calypsos best friends. Not to mention her relationship with Garreth is SO cute, and I am so excited to read more writing about them!!

@masqueradereveler21s Gwendolen Hedera, a badass mc I admire so much: from her well developed story and personality to her beautiful design and love triangle which I am eating up, everything about her is amazing and I am excited to hear more things about her in the future. And an honorable mention to Hypatia Goodwin, who is super awesome and interesting, and her story is SO intriguing!

@wrongcogs Siobhan Moriarty, whom I am IN LOVE WITH!! An excitable, girlboss, stunning, fun and all together amazing MC whom I have many ideas for drawings with her. Not to mention her design is so cool, and her and calypsos dynamic is to die for 🥹💕

@sallowslove Jean Vestit, a super intriguing and GORGEOUS MC whom has a role in the creators upcoming fic, Where We’ll Go After Battle: which from Snippets I’ve read looks absolutely fucking amazing and I am so excited to obsess over it.

@morelikeravenbores Aurélie Collins, WHOM I WOULD DIE FOR. She’s badass, amazing, gorgeous, spell binding, and Calypso is her number one fan girl. She has an amazing fic called How To Make A Villain, which you should totally check out. Aurélie is also another MC Calypso is fighting with Sebastian over 😩💕💕

@plxnetn1nes Calliope Venzak, a gorgeous, badass, and super intriguing MC with a very interesting backstory and family lore. She looks absouletly beautiful in game and in the creators drawings as well!

@keri-mcberrys Lyla Estaris, the first MC I fell in love with and canonically Calypsos first crush LMAO. A cute, badass, hilarious Hufflepuff with an amazing design. Also the first MC I ever drew haha 😂

@choccy-milkys Clora Clemons, a well written and well developed MC with a wonderful story you can read in the creators fic, The Raven and The Snake. Cute, caring, funny, and all together wonderful—and, ofc, calypso will fight Sebastian over her 💕

@faustinio27s Faustine Daemon, WHOM I LOVE SO DEARLY!! Cute, intelligent, and a total badass—not to mention I absolutely love her design. I still need to draw her and her other amazing MC, Bonnie Hutchinson: whom is just as amazing and I am genuinely so in love with her story!! She is so intriguing, stunning, girlboss, and I just know calypso would have a little crush on her haha.

@magicallylegacys Valle Dunnes. I fell in love with her the moment I saw her in one of the creators just AMAZING screenshots. Her design is gorgeous, and I’m so excited to hear more about her.

@wit-grizzlys Bear Whiteclaw, a caring and badass Ravenclaw with an awesome design! I’m always so excited to see more of the creators awesome art 🥹💕

@siboom777s Sally Salamander, an absouletly awesome MC who is always such a joy to draw. Caring, hilarious, sweet, and altogether awesome, I love her with a full heart. Not to mention she has SUCH an awesome design!

@lorrainmorgans Lorrain Morgana, WHO IS SO AWESOME?? Fun, excitable, hilarious, I would most defintely want to be her friend in real life. Her and calypsos dynamic is adorable (foreshadowing), I love her design, and not to mention her relationship with Ominis is so cute?? Go read her fic “Looking Thru My eyes”!

@the-ozzies Millie Claire. I fell in love with her caring, energetic, and badass personality the moment I saw her, and the creators comics including her are hilarious. Not to mention her design is GORGEOUS

@ravenwind-75s Johanna Newman, who is so amazing, hilarious, badass, and sweet, and she is written and developed wonderfully in the creators amazing writing. Also someone whom is very good friends with Calypso 💕

And finally, my friend-who-isnt-on-tumblrs MC Cori Condrego. A sweet, fierce, badass Slytherin who I love dearly, her design is so cute and her relationship with Sebastian is very sweet 💕

Thanks for all being such awesome people in the fandom!!

[wordycheeseblob]

*Clinks glass with spoon*

I've seen a couple of people so this and wanted to say a few words as well.

Tumblr dot com is the first and only place where I learned online connections can change lives so much or be so genuine. It's never about numbers. Each blog breathes life of the unique person behind it. So many colorful personalities brought together...

And we've been through a lot.. the great bot purge of 20', the AO3 siege, the battle of Halloween on Christmas eve, Auburn shipping wars....

I never knew I could know such friendship. I wish I could tuck in each one of my moots and give you a goodnight kiss, a hug when you're in a dark place, and scream into the void together about our interests (because what am I if not an enabler :) )

You've changed my life in so many ways and you have no idea

My wonderful artist friends, I've wondered how can the same hands that create such disaster (affectionate) manage such breathtaking art @clavissionary-position

And breathe so much life into the canon world with their own enthralling iteration (seriously somebody let him on the Devs team) @devonares I don't see you two so often around here anymore but I do hope we meet again some sunny day

thank you @mllorei for being the ride or die friend i never had, and an amazing talented writer (and artist!) And co-conspirator. Listen, this word count is severely limited for all I want to say (*whispering* like fix your sleeeeep goddamit) @krenenbaker you're a puzzle I will crack some day... A mystery yet to be solved. An evil little box of pandora. A secret mastermind of destruction *squints* but for reals, from what I've seen you're a direct and genuinely good person with a shared passion for historical fashion! (or ARE you...? Hmmm)

@venulus man you're just so iconic I have no words

@dove-da-birb another fantastic writer, I got to know you and @azulashengrottospiano somewhere at the same time. Hehe what the latter doesn't know is I orchestrated most of the shipping wars hee hee :3 and Dove, at first I wanted to bully you a bit with crowleg (please forgive this peasant) but then I think I accidentally adopted you. You, @keithsandwich and Lorei are the best crocheters I know <3

Myara's gold handiwork is honestly out of this world. Also thank you for sending me stuff and thinking of me, I really appreciate that.

@vivislosingitagain and @vioisgoinginsane 's sistership is of legendary status, and I think Vio is like a sister to Vivi. (They're clones they're clones)

Isn't it wonderful how through billions of people on earth, you've found eachother?

@thewitchofbooks my literature loving friend! (And I found out recently, great artist too??!) I hope to see you more this year, I get so happy when we interact you won't believe it...

Thank you @violettduchess for always making me smile and persevering in the face of hardship. You're strong, stand proud. @leonscape I wish you a year full of Leon, don't give up! He may not be everyone's cup of coffee, but he is to you and that's what matters.

Thank you for always being there, I see you around a lot and just wanted to thank you and wish you a new years too! :]

@candied-boys @altairring @otomefreak876 @solacedeer @this-is-war-peacock @here-for-gilbert @dear-sciaphilia @chi-the-idiot @serynhe @katriniac @mymumisasquid @olivermorningstar @caffedrine

@happy-pup you helped me a lot, I will never forget you ^^

And my new friendos here @v-anrouge @saint-garden (the gremlins) @ikemendrew @officialdaydreamer00 @jade-s-nymph @crheativity and @nuttytani I hope to see more of you this year too!

Phew... I hope I didn't forget anyone, that's a lot of people! Even a small act of kindness here has made ripples throughout the world, it reached so many people... Many things will pass but I sincerely hope,

if you're here or not, I hope this new year treats you well. And you continue with a newfound strength into the future

[atiny-for-life]

Creative Spotlight #3: Jeong Yunho

Masterlist

Intro: With so many new Atinys coming in, I figured now would be a good time to shed some light on all the boys' creative solo projects over the years, big and small.

ANEWZ

Yunho once shared he wanted to be a news reporter/anchorman when he was younger which led to the inception of ANEWZ back in 2020:

That same year, he got to meet Jang Sung Kyu, an anchor he'd been looking up to, and interview him to get some tips and advice (yes, this was in the same video where Wooyoung sat so hard on Seonghwa's lap, Seonghwa looked like he was about to cry and that's why the view count is so high):

ANEWZ is by far the most consistent content we get from any of the members, with the most recent one being released on July 24th of this year:

We get Yunho talking to himself on the regular, interviewing other members, dropping the gossip about behind the scenes shenanigans and more. It's lovely.

Imitation Soundtrack

As a main cast member of the drama Imitation, Yunho was part of the fictional group Sparkling, together with Seonghwa and San, which means he also participated in various performances throughout the show, but let's highlight the most iconic one right here and now:

They made fun of Diamond for so long and still do sometimes ("FInalLY NOW, it's my tIME"). This performance is also where that dance move comes from Yunho is doing here (watch older content and you'll see Wooyoung doing that every five minutes - iconic):

Collabs

Around two years ago, Yunho, San, and Jongho were featured on a Pentatonix song called A Little Space which you can find here (it even includes a Korean verse!):

That same year, him and Hongjoong were featured in a Pepsi Commercial song together with Rain and members of Monsta X and Brave Girls (iconic):

On August 1st, 2024, Yunho was featured in an Eve Seo song called KkungKkungDda. The MV is very fun and goofy, featuring Yunho as the boy at school every girl wants:

Cover Song

The first cover he ever released on Ateez's channel came out 3 months ago, titled Even If It's Your Happiness:

Filmed on an old camera, the footage is grainy and in 3-by-4 format, giving it that nostalgic 90's feel. The song itself kicks off extremely pretty and cute, cozy and warm, perfectly fitting Yunho's voice and the self-shot footage which shows us the world through his eyes.

Then, reaching the halfway mark, the song explodes, drums kicking in, and we get to hear his powerful register, allowing him to really show off as a vocalist. It's really beautiful.

Original Song

On October 3rd, 2024, Be Alright was posted on Ateez's YouTube channel, a song written and composed by Yunho and Hongjoong together with Lakov and Balm. In a Live, Hongjoong claimed Yunho did 90% of the work on the song, but Yunho later denied this in his own Live (see below) and said he merely sang Hongjoong's song. Both are most likely stretching the truth a bit.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by 쫑jjong 🧸 (@jjongxappleteez)

It's a beautiful song featuring a lot of piano accompanying Yunho's voice. (You can listen to Hongjoong's guide track here.) And as you listen, pay attention to the background vocals and you will ascend, I promise you. The lyrics are also deeply vulnerable, telling the story of a fight with depression and how much that can take from you.

The sadness, the loneliness, the isolation, the tiring struggle of rebuilding yourself as you make your way back out of that deep dark hole depression threw you into. Inch by inch, step by step, rediscovering your own personality and interests along the way, realizing only then everything depression took from you. Eventually, you start feeling hope for the future again. You realize you could survive all that pain and suffering your own brain put you through day in and day out for so long which means, no matter what else life throws at you now, you're strong enough to make it through. You'll be alright.

Fashion

Like Hongjoong and San, Yunho has now also made his debut in the fashion world. In his case, by attending Seoul Fashion Week for designer KWAKHYUNJOO, as can be seen on his Instagram:

On October 8th, 2024, the vlog for this event was uploaded to YouTube:

In the video, Wyatt from ONF also makes a quick appearance when him and Yunho bump into each other:

And we get to see Yunho take pictures with Kwak Hyun Joo herself, as well as with the lady he was seated next to during the event (whom I unfortunately don't know - sorry).

[oddmawd]

THE SIGHT UNSEEN - Chapter 24: "Rei's Nine Lives of Conversation Avoidance"

SUMMARY: Yamato Rei pays the bills by telling fake fortunes to unwitting suckers... or so she thinks. Turns out half her customers are demons and her lying ass has been predicting the future with uncanny accuracy for years. On account of her growing reputation, Rei just landed on the radar of the same demon who murdered her aunt, and her only hope of survival is a mirror haunted by the ghost of an ancient warrior queen, her burgeoning psychic powers, and a certain Spirit Detective and his friends. Specifically the pretty one with red hair who seems to see right through her... Kurama is as mysterious as he is beautiful, and when Rei must stay at Genkai’s temple for protection on the eve of Yusuke and Keiko’s wedding, she finds herself growing closer and closer to the one man who’s sworn to keep everyone at arm’s length. But both Kurama and Rei hide behind high walls of their own creation, and it’ll take more than their eventual friends-with-benefits arrangement to see those walls come crumbling down — provided the demons hunting Rei don’t tear her limb from limb, first.

TAGS & CONTENT WARNINGS

PAIRINGS: Kurama/OC, Yusuke/Keiko

RATING:  E(xplicit) (MDNI, 18+) (but this chapter is T+)

WORD COUNT: 12.3k for chapter 24

GENRE: Supernatural Romance

FANDOM: Yu Yu Hakusho

TAGS: Opposite of a slow burn, friends with benefits, mutual pining until it explodes, mystery, being stalked by demons, fortune telling, supernatural powers, inheritance, hair loss (main character has alopecia and is mostly bald), insecurity, family trauma, found family, new friends, weddings, 

WARNINGS: N/A for chapter 24

This fic is exclusively hosted on Archive of Our Own

CHAPTER 24: "Rei's Nine Lives of Conversation Avoidance" - Excerpt

As soon as Rei ascertained with (somewhat relative) certainty Kurama would no longer be able to see her bright red face, Rei covered her face with her hands and screamed.

Well, sort of. She kind of mimed screaming, if that makes sense, with lots of air rushing up her windpipe and her face contorting into an impressive mimicry of Edvard Munch’s most iconic work, and she was only just a fraction louder than that particular work of art. She whisper-screamed into the void and staggered haphazardly around the unfortunate stretch of porch that bore witness to her dramatics, throwing herself at railings and support poles and sliding down them until she lay in a heap upon the floor. Then, as a bamboo deer scare popped nearby, she rolled around a bit, face still buried in her hands, dragging her fingers down her cheeks as she held back screeches of embarrassment, mortification, and shock at her own goddamn audacity.

Because holy fucking shit, gang — Rei was a bad bitch of the highest order with confidence to spare and an ass that just won’t quit, but propositioning Kurama to his face was bold even by her standards. She was long past her fun party-girl phase and hadn’t been so forward with a potential sexual partner in years. She was pursuing a master’s degree in library sciences, for fuck’s sake! What the hell had gotten into her?

Rei was a confident person, sure. She’d taken her clothes off in front of a crowd, danced in a tiny dress in front of judges without breaking a sweat, and worn a wig in a windstorm for a photo shoot, but even she wasn’t usually that brazen with an overture. She’d all but crafted an engraved invitation beckoning Kurama to waltz his (very fine) ass right back into her bed!

But then again, it was easy to be confident when you had a cheat code. A little inside scoop, if you will. Because a certain very interesting prophetic dream glimpsed in the bottom of Rei's teacup still hadn’t come true. That future moment hadn’t happened yet, and that meant…

Still lying prone upon the porch, Rei shivered. Things were not over between the two of them, she was sure of it.

Eventually she managed to scrape herself off the floor and head indoors. Sooner was better than later for floor-scraping, Rei thought. After all, Kurama had indicated he would follow her inside for a cup of coffee (a literal one, not the metaphorical cup one might use to lure a hookup to your apartment for the evening, but Rei digressed as she was wont to do when held in the grip of slutty panic). Seeing her rolling around like a cat who’d gotten into the nip stash would probably kill any chances she had with the reserved man, anyway. As it stood, despite her inside scoop leading the way, she wasn’t entirely sure if he’d ever want to speak to her again — not with the level of intimacy they’d been sharing up until that point, at least. He’d probably back off a bit now that so many lines had been crossed. Or maybe “playing it cool” meant he’d never speak to her again for as long as they lived.

Either way, she’d follow his lead. That much she could handle.

And in what was perhaps a bit of cosmic foreshadowing, Himiko had given Rei the silent treatment. After tucking Kurama in for the night, she’d worried the old queen would give her an earful as soon as her head hit the pillow, but nope. Himiko had remained as silent as the grave she had avoided by sealing herself into that ancient mirror. No dream visits had occurred, not even to scold Rei for co-sleeping with the fox demon Himiko loved warning her about. That seemed like a prime moment for a great-great-great-great-grandmotherly lecture. Rei wasn’t entirely sure what the unexpected silence might bode in its stead.

Dreams untroubled, Rei had awoken that morning to find Kurama sleeping soundly at her side. Bastard was pretty even with his hair rumpled and teeth unbrushed, clothes hanging off his toned chest like a model carefully staged to look both elegant and disheveled in the early morning light. God, Kurama was in way better shape than Rei had expected him to be. He had a dancer’s body, by Rei's estimations: lithe and strong with muscles easily hidden beneath tailored slacks and collared shirts. But with his shirt unbuttoned and tits out, so to speak (scratches from her nails still trailing down to his taut abs, she noted), he was positively delicious. It had taken quite a bit of willpower to not wake him then and there and discover how down to clown he was without alcohol flooding his system. Instead she’d left him in her bed and gone to bathe, scrubbing herself from top to bottom with some of the fancy, strongly scented soap Botan had brought with her to the shrine. No telling how good demons’ senses of smell were. She knew Kurama would want privacy, and she had done her best to accommodate his expected anxieties by stripping the lingering scent of roses and earth from her skin.

How she’d kept a straight face in front of Hokushin when she ran into him in the hall just afterward was beyond her. He’d come storming through just as she exited the onsen, the demon clearly panicked about something, and his eyes had bugged when he saw her coming. In his fist he carried an empty bottle of sake — the exact same bottle a furtive Yusuke had asked Keiko to put away somewhere the night before. Rei had gone with Keiko at the time, and they’d placed it on a table with the other liquor. Neither had thought much of it in the moment, but now, seeing the look on Hokushin’s face…

“Yamato-san.” He held the bottle out, beady eyes intent on her face. “Did you see who drank this?”

“Drank…?” She blinked at him innocently, quick mind was already doing some rather unfortunate math. “No, sorry. Was it important?”

While he babbled about precious wedding-night gifts and unbreakable Alaric consummation traditions and mildly aphrodisiacal wines, she’d crunched the appropriate numbers and realized exactly what Kurama must have been sipping on all evening. But while she felt bad for Hokushin, who was even balder than she was and therefore an automatic friend to Rei, she hadn’t told him she suspected Kurama had imbibed the dubious wedding present. Instead she’d directed him toward Chu, wherever he was, in a classic misdirect toward the insatiable drunk.

“Chu?” Hokushin’s brow furrowed. “He prefers his ogre-killer.”

“True,” said Rei sagely, “but he was coming onto me all night, and if that liquor has the effect you claim it does…”

Hook, line, sinker. Hokushin had taken the bait and stormed off with gutting Chu like a fish on his mind, and Rei — feeling accomplished at her subterfuge, and mildly vengeful toward Chu after the evening prior — had gone to the kitchen to make coffee. That’s where Kurama had found her, and then he’d pulled her into the woods, and then she’d propositioned him because oh god oh god oh god, she’d lost her damned mind! 

But dwelling on her lapses in sanity wouldn’t do anyone any good, least of all Rei, so right back into the kitchen she went. She’d made allusions of breakfast to Kurama, after all, and she wasn’t the type to go back on a promise.

This time, however, she found the kitchen occupied by Keiko, who stood over the brewing coffee pot with eyes like a sleepy hawk’s. Botan yawned behind her at the kitchen table, looking in similar need of caffeine. Sleepy though she appeared, Keiko glanced at Rei askance, eyes roving over her in an assessing sweep.

But it was Botan who spoke, smile drowsy and soft. “You’re up awfully early, Yamato.”

Rei laughed as she slipped into the chair beside Botan. “Back atcha.”

Keiko nodded at the coffee maker. “You put the pot on?”

“Yeah.”

“Bless you.” Keiko sighed, relieved. “I need it.”

“Up late?”

“Yes.” Keiko fought back a yawn. “But I’ve got too much to do to be sleeping in.”

“You should let Yusuke know,” Rei said with a slow smile of her own, “before he drags you off for another midnight garden makeout session.”

Keiko gasped. “You saw that!?”

“A good Fixer has eyes and ears everywhere.”

While Keiko grumbled about Yusuke keeping his hands to himself, flushing a pretty shade of pink all the while, Rei busied herself prepping breakfast and pretending she hadn't just intentionally deflected the conversation away from whatever the hell she had been up to last night. Far better to embarrass Keiko into changing the subject herself than have her ask the reciprocal question of “Gee Rei, what did you get up to everyone else was sleeping? Fuck any foxes?” And with Botan sitting right there, this was a question Rei simply could not tolerate. Yes, yes, shift the narrative, Keiko…no one will suspect a thing…

And the tactic appeared to work, because Keiko immediately looked away, cleared her throat, and launched into a monologue. “Anyway. I have a lot of my plate today,” she said, looking anywhere but at Rei. “Mostly just making sure the logistics are in order. Flowers on time, the cake delivery, and of course the guests, more decor…” She stopped counting on her fingers when the dulcet sounds of ‘Fur Elise’ began to play from her pocket on tiny speakers. “Oh, speak of the devil, that’s probably the wedding band. Give me a second…”

Leave it to Keiko to have such a classy ring-tone, Rei thought to herself. She watched with a satisfied (dare I say it, smug) smile as Keiko left the kitchen. The bride-to-be looked quite grateful to have somewhere else to be if Rei was judging the sheepish look on her face accurately…

But Rei had lightly miscalculated the situation, because Botan was definitely still in the kitchen and absolutely gearing up to ask a question of her own, if the serious expression she aimed in Rei’s direction were any indication. Luckily the grim reaper had other things on her mind and asked an innocuous question; privately, Rei’s nerves deflated somewhat.

“Say, Yamato. Keiko and I were talking, and we were wondering — what do you plan to wear to the wedding?” Botan spoke with a degree of hesitation Rei didn't quite understand, as if worried about causing offense. “You packed in an awful hurry, and you didn’t get much warning that you’d be attending a wedding of all things…

Oh, so that was it. “Don’t worry,” Rei said. “I came prepared.”

Botan looked surprised (and Rei felt nearly offended after all). “You did? Really?”

“My friend,” said Rei with grave solemnity, “|I don’t travel anywhere without at least two evening looks in tow.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Oh yeah.” She had to suppress a laugh; to someone like Rei, the alternative was positively absurd. “Former ballroom dancer, hardcore girl’s girl — I have never traveled light in my entire life, and no amount of homicidal, eyeball-eating demons could hope to cramp my style.” But because Botan still looked adorably skeptical, Rei explained, “I brought three full sized suitcases on this little venture, if that tells you anything. At least two dresses in them ought to work for the wedding. I could even do an outfit change for the reception.”

The I-don’t-want-to-offend-you expression was back in full force. “Keiko will want to see the looks, if you don’t mind. Is that all right?”

“What, it’s not a color-coded dress code or something, is it?”

“No, she’s not that fussy.” Botan hesitated a moment. “But she does want to make a good impression on the demonic dignitaries.” Her eyes dropped, nervous. “So…”

Ah. So that was it. When it came to event attendance, Botan and Keiko had only seen Rei in some of her more egregious outfits: the men's-suit-with-no-shirt-on-underneath-and-a-neon-party-wig ensemble she had worn to the bachelor party, and her truly unfortunate Eastern European fortune teller get-up from the first night they’d all met, neither of which was sure to inspire much confidence in Rei’s ability to dress herself for a formal wedding. But Rei wasn't offended that Botan and Keiko wondered if she had packed wedding-appropriate attire before their madcap rush to reach the temple. Rei had been running around in spandex workout gear while training with Genkai, too, which was also the opposite of good wedding attire. Hell if Rei would ever begrudge a bride for caring about the appearance of her guests, especially if some of them were dignitaries from another dimension.

Another dimension. Jesus tap-dancing Christ. Rei would never get used to that.

“Oh, don't worry,” said Rei. “I have just put the doctor ordered. Or just what the wedding planner ordered. Whatever whoever is in charge ordered, I have, so — ”

The kitchen door burst open. Keiko stormed inside. She paced over to the stove and swiped up a coffee cup before snatching the coffee pot from its cradle. The coffee was still dripping from the filter, but she didn't appear to care, letting precious drops of it spill all over the overflow tray in her haste to get caffeine in her system. As soon as she could, she tossed back a shot with a grimace, face red, but probably not just because she had downed a scalding mouthful of coffee.

Call it a hunch, but when Keiko exclaimed “Oh, this is terrible!” with the expression of a person who’d just slipped and fallen in cow manure, Rei got a feeling her prediction was right on the money.

“Are you OK, Keiko?” Botan said. “Whatever is the matter?”

Keiko’s eyes flashed wild. “The band just canceled!”

“What?!”

“The band, the wedding band — they canceled!” Keiko threw up her hands, coffee sloshing over her bare wrist. She cursed and said, “They just played some festival and they all came down with the flu. The singer could barely even talk on the phone, he was so sick.”

Botan put a hand to her cheek “That’s terrible!”

“The wedding is the day after tomorrow.” Keiko moaned, cradling her singed wrist. “What am I going to do?”

“He didn’t have a replacement for you?” Rei asked with a frown.

“No. Should he have?”

“Most bands have friends in the community they can call if something like this happens." She had worked with enough of them in her day to know that much for sure. “And most contracts have a cancellation clause, too.”

“Well, he didn’t mention it, and I don’t remember what the contract said.” Keiko wrenched out her phone, fingers tapping franticly at the screen. “Do I have a copy handy? Oh, what am I going to do?”

“Could we call Koto, Juri and Ruka?” Botan asked. “They’re attending the wedding, so maybe their contacts — "

“Wait.” Rei stared at Botan in rapidly mounting shock. “Not that Koto, Juri and Ruka, right?”

The Demon Trio — an idol group that had debuted some years prior and reached meteoric heights in the Japanese entertainment world, whose fame and notoriety soon went international, cementing them as bonafide superstars all over the world. Their whole schtick was that they wore fake ears and tails (Juri and Koto) and did magic on stage as part of their act (Ruka), staying strictly in-character as supernatural beings while singing, dancing, and performing their very pretty asses off. Hell, their first album was called ‘Sirens,’ and it goes without saying they’d leaned into the gimmick whole hog.

At least, Rei had assumed it was all a gimmick. Like the rest of the world, Rei had chalked up their anatomical accoutrement to some kind of bizarre costuming choice. But with everything Rei had learned about the world (or worlds, to be more precise) over the past few days, she got the sense the Demon Trio’s little act may not have been an ‘act’ at all.

And like a guillotine coming down to sever Rei’s perception at the neck, Botan looked at her, sighed, and admitted: “Yes, that Koto, Juri and Ruka.”

“Oh my god,” said Rei.

“They’re old friends of ours,” said Keiko.

“Oh my god.”

“And they’re an instrumental part of the integration of demons into the world of humans,” added Botan.

“Oh my god!”

Botan smiled sympathetically at Rei, who had begun staring at the wall with the expression of a particularly stressed-out lobotomy patient. “You doing OK there, Yamato?”

“Oh, y’know. Just recalibrating my view of society and reality at large. Again.” Rei draped her arm over her eyes, head tipping backward over the back of her chair. “Every day at Genkai’s shrine is a new revelation for me, ya boy.”

Keiko hummed under her breath. “That’s not a bad idea to reach out to them, though. They have to know someone, right? At least a DJ…” She let out a groan. “And the band was supposed to play the wedding march!”

Keiko left the room in a hurry to make the call, Botan looking appropriately horrified on her behalf. Rei felt terrible for her too, of course. The wedding was the day after tomorrow, and here they were without a band for the reception. Sure, Rei could offer to DJ the party with her phone hooked up to a speaker (she certainly had an extensive enough music library for the job), but that was hardly the same thing as having a live band. Certainly less impressive, and it lacked the ambiance Keiko no doubt wanted to provide her royal guests. This was, without a doubt, an absolutely awful turn of events…

A pang of guilt speared her, cold and cutting. She squashed it down, though, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of her head as it struggled to be heard — and either Botan had eats like a bat or was a little psychic herself, because she looked at Rei and brought up the exact damn thing Rei was trying very hard not to think about. Rei often thought of herself as a cat with nine lives, but it seemed she’d used up all her subject-avoidance chances for the day in her earlier preemptive deflection with Keiko. Fuck.

“Well, Fixer.” Botan’s magenta eyes opened wide and plaintive. “Any ideas Keiko knows the Demon Trio, but you know some entertainers of your own, don’t you? Maybe your burlesque friends have connections we could leverage?”

“Yeah.” Rei swallowed, studying her coffee cup. “Maybe.”

But ‘maybe’ was a damn lie, because Rei did have connections she could leverage. One in particular she had no doubt would come through for her in a flash, in fact. In spite of that certainty and her loyalty to Keiko both screaming at her to make the call, Rei did not get her phone out of her pocket. Instead she waited, sipping her coffee in silence while Botan fretted, until Keiko returned to the kitchen looking equal parts panicked and morose.

“Koto and the others are so busy, I can’t get a hold of them,” she said, slumping into a seat and putting her forehead on the table. “Their manager couldn’t even get them on the phone.”

“Oh no!” Botan turned to Rei again, looking more plaintive than ever. “Yamato? You said you maybe had something?”

Rei sucked in a breath. “Well — “

She started to say no, because dammit, that’s what she wanted to say, what she needed to say. But then Keiko swung hopeful eyes her way, and the words died on Rei’s lips.

“Yamato? Do you have an idea?” she asked.

And Rei's willpower crumbled like a sand castle on an angry shore, because Keiko’s tentative smile and pleading eyes cut to the heart and dissolved her defenses in one heavy wave. Rei sighed and patted her wig, slowly getting up from the table as a hollow formed in the pit of her belly.

“It’s not a sure thing, but yeah,” Rei said, every word heavy on her tongue. “There’s a call I can make.”

CLICK HERE TO READ THE REST OF CHAPTER 24 ON AO3!

[kydoesthings1]

McGillis and the Pied Piper

because February 24th’s Wordle was piper and I am procrastinating on school work

At 16:57 of S2E21 (E46) Gaelio says this to McGillis before charging him.

(Gaelio is speaking through the comms offscreen.)

(Apparently this line was also used in a game. I forgot which one. I don't play Gundam games.)

Gaelio literally says something along the lines of "Are you still going to play the pipe of Hamelin even when the battle is going like this?" Not sure why this is the subtitle. But they mostly mean the same thing so maybe I'm just nitpicking.

To refresh your memory a little, this is when the Revolutionary Fleet is very clearly losing to Arianrhod, and McGillis just made his pep talk and this iconic frame. They are preparing to retreat and regroup when Gaelio shows up to fight McGillis.

Gaelio referencing the Pied Piper of Hamelin (Hameln, same thing) is of course connected to McGillis's and thus his love of myth/folk tales. Because of McGillis's influence, Gaelio also has a strong liking for stories. He names himself and Gundam Vidar/Kimaris Vidar after Vidar, the Norse god of revenge and silence, son of Odin and slayer of Fenrir (Fenris, same thing but IBO uses Fenrir) the monster wolf son of Loki during Ragnarok. The same side story 'Eve of Vidar' also tells us he used to hit on girls using Norse mythology fun facts, including Yamazin Toka when he was a test pilot for the Schwalbe Graze.

Although these are relatively common knowledge for us, the viewers, they are probably niche facts however many years in the future the Post Disaster timeline is (in UC0079 Hitler and WW2 is considered "middle ages" despite being historically quite recent for us). This is one thing Gaelio and McGillis have in common and it is because of McGillis.

(Also this is kind of a weak diss? Like if you're gonna insult McGillis why compare him to something so cool. "Snake on the moon" - now that's an insult. But I digress.)

But what is the Pied Piper exactly? The Pied Piper, or the Ratcatcher (der Rattenfänger) is a legend of the town Hamelin in Lower Saxony of Germany. There are dozens of variations of this tale, but I'll only be talking about the most popular versions that relate to the events of IBO.

In 1284, Hamelin had a rat problem. Basically there were a whole bunch of rats, and they made life suck for the townspeople, as large numbers of rats tend to do. According to Robert Browning's poem, the people were mad at the mayor for not being able to solve the problem, and were about to kick him out. Then a man wearing a coat of many bright colors (Browning's version says yellow and red, both in McGillis's palette at some point) and holding a pipe showed up. The Piper promised to get rid of all the rats in exchange for 1000 guilders. He then played his pipe and all the rats came out and followed him into the river Weser and drowned.

The townspeople did not follow through on their end, however, and came up with all sorts of excuses to not give him the promised 1000 guilders. This angered the Piper, and he played his pipe again, and this time all 130 of the town's children came out and followed him away dancing and they never returned, nor were they ever seen again. Versions disagree on what happened to the children. In the Grimm Brothers and Browning's versions they went to Transylvania. Others say they went to a land like paradise in a cave. Others say they drowned in the river like the rats.

So how does this relate to McGillis and IBO? Well actually it's pretty obvious - Gaelio is simply saying McGillis is luring Isurugi, the Revolutionary Fleet and Tekkadan to their doom with false promises.

However, the point of this post is to point out some interesting details of this parallel. The Piper lured the children of Hamelin away as an act of revenge on the adults of the town because they didn't pay him what was rightfully his for his service. McGillis's coup can be framed as revenge on the corrupt system of the world Gjallarhorn maintains, and those who personally victimized him.

Interestingly, some accounts describe the Piper as "a miracle of God" and that he was sent to test the townspeople, and punish them when they didn't keep their word. Others call him the devil in disguise, who intended to trick the people and take their children. This is like how McGillis can be seen as a charismatic leader aiming to change the world for the better, or a ruthless, cold-blooded, lying, backstabbing, power-hungry traitor who will stop at nothing.

Additionally, Bael, the demon king, is a fallen angel who was cast out with Lucifer for rebelling against God, and Gundam Bael's gunpla box describes it as "a demon with the appearance of an angel" (this could also apply to McGillis himself).

In many versions of the story, some children are left behind. Which ones exactly vary, but Browning's focuses on a boy with a broken leg who couldn't keep up with the other children, so he was able to tell the villagers where he saw them go. The boy said they went into a portal on the side of the mountain, and on the other side was a paradise where everything was beautiful and peaceful. The boy was very sad he couldn't join his friends there because now he was all alone and couldn't return to that land.

Sounds kind of familiar, doesn't it?

In the epilogue, Gaelio is in a wheelchair and his bandaged neck suggests that his Alaya-Vijnana implants had been removed fairly recently. Supplemental info reveals that McGillis injured his spine during their fight at Edmonton, and Gaelio was only able to be up and about in S2 thanks to his AVS.

If the land the Piper and the children went to is Heaven, then this could be read as Gaelio being the only one not to follow McGillis into death, and being the sole survivor of his friends (for the sake of this argument Julieta doesn't count because Gaelio wasn't fighting for or against her).

An important difference is the boy longed to follow the Piper, while Gaelio rejected McGillis because he schemed to kill him and his friends.

The Piper's other name, the Ratcatcher? Tekkadan are space rats?

Also McGillis's true name Montag, presumably his surname before Iznario's adoption, is German for Monday, hinting at his heritage, and the Piper is a German story (obviously).

The Pied Piper is a legend that originated in the Middle Ages, and Gjallarhorn's leadership, ideology and overall aesthetic is reminiscent of that.

There is a version of the story that the Piper will return in 300 years. Which he did not do, but 300 years? McGillis, the self-proclaimed successor to Agnika Kaieru after 300 years?

I can't be bothered to write a separate piece on Gaelio's legs so I should also mention that Vidar, the Norse god defeats Fenrir by stepping on his lower jaw with his shoe made from all the collected pieces of leather people cut from their own shoes, and grabbing his upper jaw and ripping him apart at the mouth.

Vidar's special shoes are like how Gaelio says he’s carrying all the wishes of Carta and Ein, and the AVS Type-E also serves as his literal feet. (Also he wears very striking white thigh-high boots that are very hot. What they're not is part of the Gjallarhorn uniform, just to make this connection, in addition to exacting revenge in style.)

In many carvings, Vidar is shown stabbing Fenrir through the heart also, and Gaelio/Kimaris Vidar defeats McGillis by pinning him against the Arianrhod flagship and stabbing him/Bael through the torso.

Proposed origins of the Pied Piper

Now obviously there was no piper guy dressed in goofy clothes that stole all the children of a town with magic music. There are several theories about what the legend is based on. This has nothing to do with IBO anymore and I just thought it was fun so feel free to stop reading if you don't agree.

Plague: According to this theory, all the children died because of illness and the place they went to is a mass grave. The Piper's many-colored clothing represents the sores and discoloration of skin of those who contracted the illness, and he is the personification of the plague/death. Rats are carriers of fleas, which spread the plague. 1284 is a bit too early for the Bubonic Plague (Black Death) though, so it may have been something else.

Emigration: The emigration theory suggests that much of the people of Hamelin moved to eastern Europe in search of better opportunities as only the eldest son had inheritance and the others could only be serfs. In this theory, "children of Hamelin" are not actual children, and it's just a figure of speech to say they were of a certain place. This correlates with some versions where the Piper and the children he took were sighted in Transylvania.

Human trafficking/the Children's Crusades: In these two theories the Piper is the recruiter/trafficker and the story was made up by the town to please their officials.

Dancing mania: There have been records of dancing mania in about the same time period in the surrounding region, and children were among the affected. Dancing mania can sometimes result in death due to exhaustion. It was originally attributed to a curse by a saint (St. John or St. Vitus) and you had to pray to them to lift the curse. Modern explanations for dancing mania are neurological disorders or collective mental disorders.

Pagan ritual: supposedly the pipe music and dancing children are part of this ritual that took place in the mountains, and the children died from a landslide or similar accident.

"You're reading way too much into Gaelio's one line" no actually I am reading exactly the right amount into it and everyone else isn't reading into it enough