#his appointment was planned for friday and I was going to see him tomorrow

[babygirlcowboy]

My dad had my childhood dog put to sleep today without telling me

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 14: Me Too, Baby

Joel helps you. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 13, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected P in V sex. Fingering. Childcare struggles. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 6.7k

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Joel wasn’t sure what he expected to find at his front door at almost midnight on a Friday night but it wasn’t you with a screaming baby in your arms. 

“Please,” you said again, your eyes red and wide and there were little rivers of mascara that ran down your cheeks. 

“You’re OK, Goldie,” he said. “I’ve got you, you’re OK.” 

He moved without thinking, just taking the carrier gently from your trembling hands. He had to almost pry it away from you, your fingers clinging to it like a life raft. He carefully tucked the handle over his arm and put his other arm around your shoulders, guiding you into his house because he wasn’t sure he could trust you to just walk in all on your own. 

“I’m s-s-s-,” you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to contain the racking sobs that were making your whole body shake. “I’m sorry, she just… she won’t stop crying and I can’t get her to eat and…” 

“It’s OK,” he said gently, taking you and your wailing niece to the kitchen. He set the carrier gingerly on the table and took you by the shoulders. “Goldie, when did she last eat?” 

“I… I don’t know,” you said, getting worked up again from what little calm you’d managed to gain  only moments before. “I got her to take some of a bottle earlier but not enough and that was… that was… what time is it?” 

He looked you up and down, frowning. He’d known things with Anna and Ellie were bad but he’d never seen you like this, never seen you out of control like this. 

“It’s OK,” he said. “She’s probably hungry…” 

“I know she’s hungry!” You snapped before you gasped and clamped your hands over your mouth, new tears welling up in your eyes before you pulled your hands away. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s not your fault I can’t take care of her, I…” 

Joel hushed you gently and wished he could just hold you for a while, get you to breathe, but that would have to wait until after he got Ellie to settle. 

“I’m going to feed her,” Joel said calmly, his hands still on your shoulders as he guided you to a chair at the kitchen table. “You sit, it’s OK, I’ve got you, both of you.” 

He went to the pantry and got one of the cans of formula he’d picked up from the store earlier that day. You’d texted him the night before after getting home from Ellie’s appointment, worried that the doctor hadn’t told you anything useful. He remembered the formula struggle with Sarah, how it took what felt like a small eternity for the pediatrician to tell him to change what he was feeding her when it seemed like all she would do was cry and all Joel wanted to do was take whatever was hurting her away. He didn’t want to put anything else on you and Anna so he just picked it up, planning to bring it to Anna’s tomorrow afternoon. 

He made the bottle quickly as you sat as his table, a glassy look in your eyes as you stared straight ahead and Ellie cried. He tested the formula temperature on his skin before going and taking Ellie delicately from her carseat. 

“I hear you, baby girl,” he said quietly, tucking her into his body just so. He angled her head and, after some coaxing, got her to take the bottle. She was still breathing in little, worked up huffs but she was eating, quieting as she did. “There you go, you’re alright.” 

“How did you do that?” You sniffed, drying your eyes on the backs of your wrists.

“We’ll see how she does with it,” Joel said, looking over at you. “Sarah was real rough early on, too. Wouldn’t eat for the life of her. Turns out she was allergic to somethin’ in the formula and it was upsetting her stomach and there was something about the angle I was holdin’ her at too… anyway, I got some of the formula that worked for her, figured I’d try the way I held her, too.” 

You just nodded before looking around yourself for a moment and then frowning. 

“What?” He asked, watching you was he walked slowly with your niece, bouncing her gently as she ate. 

“My bag,” you said, looking around. “I think I left it in the car, I wasn’t thinking, I wanted to write down what you were doing but I don’t have my notebook and I’m not sure I’ll remember it and…” 

“Goldie,” he said gently. “You’re alright.” 

You nodded and teared up again before closing your eyes and taking a deep, trembling breath. 

Ellie drank most of the bottle and fell asleep before finishing it. Joel swayed with her gently as he set the bottle on the counter. 

“Are you OK?” He asked, still moving with the baby in his arms to make sure she was good and out of it. You nodded quickly. “Good. Where’s Anna? Why do you have the baby?” 

“Anna…” your lips quivered and you hiccuped. “She… She left.” 

“What?” He gaped at you. “What do you mean she left, where is she?” 

“I don’t know,” your voice was thick and wet. “I don’t know if I should call the police, I’m afraid if I do they’ll find her all drugged out and arrest her but I wouldn’t even know where to start…” 

“What happened?” He asked, straining to keep the concern out of his voice. You were already close enough to a panic without his help. “Just… start at the beginning.” 

“We had Ellie’s appointment yesterday,” you said, taking a deep breath. “It didn’t go well, the doctor said he wanted to see us back in less than a week because she’s lost weight. Anna told him she’s been trying everything but… I don’t know, it felt like he didn’t really believe her. I took her home and said I would stay over last night but she told me no, she wanted to do it on her own… so then I went home and I was working and it was late and she texted me to see if I was home and then a few minutes later she texted me to check my porch and I did and Ellie was there, she was just there, in her carseat with her diaper bag and the can of formula and Anna was gone, she was just gone, I called her and she answered and told me she’d be back but I have no idea where she went or who she’s with and…” 

“Alright,” Joel cut you off before you fully panicked. “It’s alright, you got Ellie, it’s OK.” 

You just nodded again and he watched you for a moment. 

It was so unnatural, seeing you this way. You had always been so remarkably certain in his mind. You were the smartest person he’d ever met, you always had the answers, you knew what you were doing with your life. You had talent - so much goddamn talent - that it had never even really been a question. You had a path and the drive to find your way through it and, while you’d stumbled in some things, you were still you. This wasn’t you. 

“OK,” Joel said, the baby’s breaths having settled into the steady rhythm of deep sleep. “I’m gonna go set her down. You go to my room and sit down, OK? Sarah’s asleep, this hasn’t exactly been quiet…” 

“Sorry,” you said softly. 

He gave you a look. 

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here and comin’ here was smart. Just that I don’t want you feeling like you need to explain this to my daughter right now. We can deal with that in the morning once you’ve gotten some sleep. Now. My room. Go.” 

You nodded and got up slowly from the table and Joel walked behind you, up the stairs and down the hall. You went in his room and he went into the room he’d pretended was going to be an office when he’d bought this house even though he knew he’d never have a job that required an office. Instead, it had turned into a storage room for shit that wouldn’t do well in the garage and that he was too lazy to move to the attic. At least, it had until Anna had gotten pregnant. He’d cleaned it up then, getting Sarah’s old nursery stuff out of storage and cleaning off the cobwebs and the dust. He’d even set the crib mattress at the height that would be best for Ellie at this age, feeling like a dumbass as he’d done it - why would you be taking your newborn niece to his house? - but he was grateful for it now. 

He set her gently into the crib and she scrunched her face for a moment, like she was considering wailing again, but then she relaxed and settled there. He turned on the baby monitor - also from Sarah’s infancy, he’d been amazed at the technology in them now when he was helping you pick one for Anna - and pocketed the receiver before he crept out of the room, closing the door almost silently behind him. 

There was a glow of light from around the frame of his bedroom door and he tried not to think about the last time he’d shared a bed with you, how you’d both ended up when you had. 

He went to the kitchen and got one of the biggest cups he could find - one of those tall beer glasses he’d gotten at some Oktoberfest thing Tommy had dragged him to one year - and filled it with water. He grabbed a snack sized pack of almonds he had for Sarah’s lunches and went back upstairs, taking a deep breath before opening the door to his bedroom. 

You were sitting at the foot of his bed, your arms folded and clutched around your stomach as you stared straight ahead. 

“Hey,” he said, more to say something than to actually say that. You looked at him, like you’d only just noticed he was there. You’d cleaned up the streaks of mascara. “Here, guessing you’ve eaten about as much as she has today…” 

He set the receiver to the baby monitor on his dresser before he handed you the almonds and sat beside you on the bed, his legs stretched far out in front of him. You opened the small bag and poured a few nuts into your palm before putting them in your mouth as though they were a handful of pills. 

“This too,” he said as you chewed, handing you the water. 

You nodded and took the glass, your fingers brushing his as you did, and you drank in big, desperate gulps, Joel’s hand coming to rest at the small of your back, slipping below the hem of your shirt to find the soft of your skin there and when he did, the tears started again, less overwrought and more like a release of some deeply held pain. 

“Talk to me,” he said quietly. “What’s going on.” 

You looked at him then, cheeks wet and eyes red and he just wanted to take you away from everything that had ever hurt you. 

“I can’t do this, Joel,” you said softly. 

“Goldie…” 

“I can’t,” you said it with such certainty. “I’m going to ruin this baby, I’m going to ruin her and she’s going to be stuck living with my inability to take care of her the way that she needs. She’s going to be the one who has to suffer because of it, not me, her and she doesn’t deserve that, Joel, she doesn’t! And she’s… she’s so tiny and perfect and she deserves someone who can give her everything and I can’t. I wish I could, I would do anything for her but I can’t and…” 

“What makes you think you can’t?” He cut you off as you started to edge toward hyperventilation. 

“Look at what I’ve done so far!” You stood up so fast it made Joel flinch a little. “I’ve had her not even a day and I’ve already failed her! Anna trusted me with her daughter and I’ve done nothing but fuck up! I wasn’t good enough to help Anna when she needed me and she had to leave to stay sane and she left me with her fucking kid and I…” 

“Why do you think this is on you?” Joel cut you off, watching as you paced, resisting the urge to just hold onto you, giving you a chance to work some of the nervous energy out. “Babies… they’re fuckin’ hard sometimes, they just are. They can’t tell you what’s wrong, they don’t really understand it themselves, all you can really do is try and figure it out and yeah, sometimes that’s a lot of trial and error…” 

“Trial and error that I am not built to do!” 

“Why do you say that?” He asked, not able to keep from touching you any longer. He got up and took your shoulders in his hands.

“Because it’s true!” You looked at him, your lip quivering and you seemed so small in that moment, like he could gather you up and carry you with him forever. 

“Why?” He asked. “Baby, you’re not makin’ sense, you need to explain this to me because I’m fuckin’ lost…” 

“You really think I’m someone who should be looking after a child?” You asked, eyes wide. 

“Yes!” Joel said, baffled, looking you up and down like there would be some physical indication of whatever defect you were talking about. “I’d trust you with Sarah in a heartbeat…” 

You scoffed. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” He continued like you hadn’t made a sound at all. “I’ve told you before, I’m glad you’re in her life, I’m thankful for it every damn day! She needs someone like you - hell, not someone like you she needs you, why wouldn’t she?” 

“Because I’m too selfish!” You all but screamed it, closing your eyes when you did. 

Joel had the strangest urge to laugh. It wasn’t funny but the concept was so ridiculous he didn’t see what else he was supposed to do. 

“What?” He said instead. 

“I’m not capable of doing what it takes to take care of a child,” you opened your eyes and looked at him, pleading. “I’m just not, it’s not in me…” 

“Do you not want kids?” He asked, brows raised. The question stung, as if you’d want kids with him either way so it didn’t matter but it didn’t sound like you. You liked kids. You always had. He didn’t understand. 

“What?” You looked back at him, so baffled that it calmed your crying. “No, of course I want kids but it’s not a good idea for me, you know me you must know that, you must see that, you…” 

“No,” he cut you off. “I don’t, I don’t know what you’re talking about, baby, you’re not making any damn sense and…” 

“I’m not capable of doing what is necessary for a child!” You said. “I’m too… I’m in my own head all the time, in my own head or on the page or anywhere else but I’m not reliable enough or nurturing enough and he knew that and you must know it, too and…” 

“Who knew it?” Joel said. “I still don’t…” 

“Gale!” You choked on his name and Joel’s hold on you tightened. “He knew, maybe you’re just not close enough to me now to see it but he could see it, he could see me and he knew that I would ruin a baby and I’m ruining Ellie, I’m ruining Anna’s baby, I ruin everything and I’m trying, I’m trying so hard but I just can’t!” 

“You’re not ruining anything!” He said, eyes searching yours. “That… that fucker? He didn’t see you, Goldie. He never did.” 

“Joel…” 

“He didn’t,” Joel said, his grip sliding up and over your shoulders to your neck, your face, holding what felt like the world in his hands. “He never saw you, Goldie girl, never. He saw someone he could fucking manipulate and use but he never saw you because you… Fuck, baby! You are everything and he doesn’t get to take that away from you! You… you are brilliant and fucking beautiful and you are one of the most caring people I’ve ever met. You couldn’t ruin anything if you fucking tried and that… that fucking guy doesn’t get to tell you otherwise! Understand?” 

You just stared at him for what felt like an eternity, your face held firm in his hands, your tears on his palm, and the next thing he knew he was kissing you. 

Your lips were desperate on his, more than he’d ever felt before. You kissed him in the same way you’d fucked yourself against him in the hotel, that moment he would have given anything to go back to and given anything to take back. 

He hadn’t been able to get it out of his head the days he was away from you. He’d made himself come over and over to the memory of you pressed tightly against him, hoping it would eventually work its way out of his system and he could go back to thinking of you as Goldie, his best friend who he loved more than almost anything, not the woman he couldn’t look at without wanting. After three days, he gave up. He just hoped that, some day, it would fade and he could find a way to move on. 

But now your arms were around his neck and your body was pressed tight to his and your tears were on his face and your kiss tasted like almonds and salt and he knew there would be no coming back from this. Not for him. 

He guided you back toward the bed, turning you so your legs were against the mattress and you eased yourself down onto it, fingers tangling in his hair, your lips never leaving his. 

You moved back toward the middle of the bed and Joel moved with you, one knee coming onto the mattress and then the other, one between your legs as he tugged your shirt up and over your head, casting it aside on the floor. You pulled at his and he helped you take it off, breaking the kiss with you long enough then to watch as you deftly unhooked your bra and slipped it off, the straps sliding down your arms, the cups the last thing to leave your body and then you were bared to him there, the plush fullness of your breasts and curve of your waist and the way your eyes looked up at him round and deep and needing him in the way he’d always dreamed that you would. 

“Joel,” you whispered and he kissed you again, his hands trying to go everywhere all at once. He needed to touch you everywhere, memorize everything, take all of you into himself in a way he never had with another person. He’d had the chance with you once before and he’d squandered it, too lost in the fact that everything was intense and new to really understand that it was happening with you. He had the strangest desire to swallow you up. To let the essence of you dissolve on his tongue like sugar so he could taste you and hold you within himself forever.

Instead, he found satisfaction in your skin. You were so soft below his touch and his fingers lingered on the small things it felt like only he could know about you, little swells and creases, things he was sure you would worry about him noticing but he loved them. All these little things that made you human, made you you and he wanted to know them all. It felt like he already should. 

Your hips rocked up against him and you whimpered against his mouth as his hands skimmed over your waist to your breasts and he took them in his hands, marveling at just how fucking good you felt. Nothing had ever felt this good, nothing should feel this good but you did. It seemed forbidden, somehow, like it had the morning after prom and you both realized what you’d done. But even that cold memory couldn’t take away from this moment, here with you, warm and soft beneath him. 

He pulled his lips from yours to kiss down your cheek, your chin, your throat, taking a nipple in his mouth as he cradled the warmth of your tit in his hand, sucking and licking at you, making you gasp and your back arch. Your hands trembled as they found his shoulders, sliding slowly over his skin and down his back like you were savoring him the way he wanted to savor you. 

Joel kissed over your skin, trailing his lips and tongue along to your other breast, tasting that one, too, as you took a shaky and desperate breath below him. He kept going down your body then, working his way gradually lower until he reached the waistband of your jeans. He unbuttoned them and slowly, carefully, unzipped them, hooking his fingers around the denim and the soft cotton of your underwear but your hands met his and he lifted himself from you enough to look you in the eye. 

“Want me to stop touchin’ you?” He asked, praying that you wouldn’t say yes. 

“No,” you whispered but you still looked uncertain. 

“Trust me?” He asked, watching you closely. You nodded quickly. He leaned forward to press a soft, lingering kiss above your navel before looking back at you. “I’ve got you, baby. Don’t worry.” 

“Please,” you said softly, your voice shaky. 

He turned back to the work of pulling off your clothes, tugging your pants down with you lifting your hips from the bed to help. Joel stood as he bared the last of your skin, your thighs pressed tightly together, feet propped up on the bed, your arms covering your stomach as best they could. 

“Can I see you?” He asked as he opened his own jeans. “All of you?” 

“You,” you closed your eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. “You want that?” 

“I do,” he said. “More than anything.” 

You straightened your legs gradually, relaxing them as you went, your hands sliding slowly, almost sensually over your stomach as you did. 

“Want you to touch yourself,” he said as he took hold of the waist of his pants and the top of his underwear. Your eyes went wide. “You… you ever think about me when you do?” 

“Yes,” you whispered and you closed your eyes again, swallowing harshly. “All the time.” 

“Show me?” 

Your hand trembled as you slipped it between your thighs, brushing over your clit for a moment before moving lower, the heel of your palm pressed tight to the top of your slit as he watched, entranced, as your finger slid inside yourself, whispering his name as you did.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed as he watched you, your other hand moving to take hold of your tit, squeezing it and he had to remind himself to move instead of just watching you do the things he was ashamed to admit he’d dreamed of you doing. 

He stripped and ran his hands over the inside of your calves to your thighs, opening your legs to him, his eyes all but locked on the way you were working just a single finger in and out of yourself. His hand covered yours and you gasped, freezing when he did. 

“Keep goin’,” he said, gravel in his voice. You swallowed, hard, but obeyed and, when your finger was all but fully outside of your entrance, he covered it with his own, the wet heat of you on your own skin intoxicating.You slowly, firmly, pressed back into yourself and he followed your lead, his thicker, longer finger pushing in alongside your own. 

You moaned as he did, the sound seeming to come from deep within you as he slid inside, something almost broken about it. He moaned, too. He couldn’t help it, already lost in just how goddamn warm and tight and wet and soft you were inside and he thought, for a moment, maybe he hadn’t imagined just how good it had been with you so many years ago. Maybe it hadn’t been all in his head, some memory gilded by the haze of youth and by his inexperience and by the fact that it was with you. Maybe being with you was that much better than everyone else he’d ever touched. 

“I’ve got you,” he said and you nodded, slipping your finger out of yourself and Joel felt you completely grip some part of him for the first time in so long and he groaned at it, watching where part of him disappeared into you. 

He worked you slowly, firmly that way for a minute, until your hips were moving almost of their own accord and he could feel the softest parts of you on the tip of his finger. He added another one and felt you stretch a little to accommodate him and you whimpered as you took him, one of your hands groping your own tit, the other twisting in the sheets as your legs fell even further open. He scissored his fingers apart inside you, opening you to him and your back arched and you ground yourself down on his hand, your pussy tightening around him. 

“That’s it,” he said, not even caring that he sounded out of his mind with need. “C’mon and come for me, you’re real tight, need you to come.” 

“Joel,” you panted. “I… fuck!” 

“I’ve got you,” he said gently. “It’s OK, just let go for me, don’t hold back, never hold back with me, just let go.” 

You turned your head and buried your face in his blankets and moaned as you fell apart and he couldn’t help but watch where his fingers were inside you, how your body fluttered and clutched at him, how your chest rose and fell, how your back arched, how fucking beautiful you looked when - for just a moment - he was able to drive every worry from your mind. 

He worked you through your orgasm, his fingers stilling inside you as your walls did and he pulled himself from you slowly, gently, his skin shining with your pleasure before he spread it over his cock, harder than he could ever remember it being. 

But when he looked to your face, your eyes were wide and uncertain and he felt his stomach drop. 

“Is this what you want?” He asked quietly. “Because…” 

You nodded quickly, cutting him off before he could finish. 

“I want you,” you said, sounding breathless and fucked out. “Please, I want you so bad.” 

He nodded then and moved the head of his cock to brush over your slit, trailing up and down and thrusting a little against your swollen clit. He gently, reverently, spread you open for him, exposing your grasping entrance to him and he had to resist the urge to press his lips to you there, to slide his tongue inside and devour whatever pleasure you would let him take. But he was already afraid that this wasn’t going to last as long as he wanted and he didn’t want to risk coming before he was even inside you. 

Joel spread one hand on the soft of your stomach, the other fisted his cock as he pressed himself into you, a moment of resistance before he was enveloped in your tight, wet heat. 

“Fuck,” he panted, watching where you were joined, just the first two inches of him inside you but you moaned all the same and suddenly, he wasn’t nearly close enough to you, there was too much of your skin he wasn’t touching. He looked to your face and you seemed to have the same thought he did, eyes wide, pupils blown. 

“Please,” you whispered, like wanting him was a secret. “I… I need…” 

“I know,” he said, covering your body with his own, one hand slipping below your back to hold you tighter to him, the other finding your thigh to pull your leg against him. You closed your eyes and nodded, a blissed out look on your face. “Me too, baby.” 

He drove himself deeper into you, memorizing the way your body opened for him as he fit himself into the cradle of your hips and he was aware, suddenly, he hadn’t put on a condom. It had been years since he’d been inside someone without one - since the night Sarah was conceived - and it was a heady thing, realizing that there was nothing separating him and you. But instead of any underlying fear or spark of wrongness like he’d felt years ago with Sarah’s mother, he just felt right. Like this was how he was supposed to be, a part of you, breathing the same air and feeling your throbbing pulse and shuddering breaths from inside. You opened your eyes then and looked at him, your gaze locked on his as he filled you totally, feeling his head brush the back of your channel. You tilted your hips just so and he moaned a stuttering moan and marveled at just how clearly he could feel you like this. 

He kissed you then, your mouth warm and soft as he ground himself deep inside of you, you grinding your hips up against his, your hands on his back, fingers pressing into his skin as he worked himself into you. He was reluctant to pull back even a little, the satisfaction he found from being this close to you too short lived. Almost immediately, he needed more, he needed closer, he needed you to let him inside your skin where your blood pulsed and lungs filled because anything short of that was not enough. Instead, he kept himself buried to the hilt within you, totally enveloped by you, the wet of your come making a sticky mess of him and he didn’t care. He hitched your leg higher, found ways to be deeper, bodies in total alignment when he pulled his mouth from yours to move to your neck, kissing and sucking at the delicate skin of your throat. 

“Joel,” your fingers grew tighter on his back, like you wanted him impossibly closer, too. “I’m going to come, I…” 

“Not gonna last when you do,” he said, his own climax already so much closer than he wanted it to be. He wished he could spend hours inside you like this, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you. “I…” 

“Don’t leave me,” you tightened your leg on his hip, your arms pulling him so close to you. “Please don’t leave me.” 

“Not leaving,” he said, fucking into you a little harder, pressing as deep as he possibly could with each and every motion, brushing his lips against the skin of your throat. “Never leaving, you’re OK.” 

“Joel,” you said again, your fingers going from his back to his hair, pulling his face from your neck. Your eyes searched his for a moment before you pulled his mouth to yours and kissed him, rocking your hips up against him before holding them there and he felt you come apart then, in a way that seemed like your entire being was throbbing around him so hot and tight it almost hurt before he gave into his own orgasm, his fingers pressing deep into the softness of your thigh, the small of your back, holding you as close as he could as he emptied himself into you. 

He wasn’t sure he’d ever come that hard in his life, not even his first time with you 15 years earlier, pulse after pulse reaching from somewhere deep inside himself to give it you. Because, he reasoned, damn near everything that was him belonged to you, anyway. 

Joel collapsed when he was done, trying to be conscious of his weight so as to not crush you beneath him but his mind and limbs were buzzing and he couldn’t seem to manage anything beyond just existing inside you for a moment. 

After a minute, though, he came back into himself. He lifted his body from yours slowly, gently, you still breathless below him and pulled his already softening cock from your warmth, a thread of your come and his still connecting your bodies until the tie broke. 

He lay carefully beside you, watching you closely, waiting for you to panic or run. But you didn’t. You turned your head to look at him, your eyes ranging over him and you felt so far away. He didn’t like that. 

“Here,” he said, nudging you onto your side with the arm that was still below you so you were facing him. He pulled you closer before brushing your hair back from your forehead, your eyes closing as he did. “I’ve got you, OK?” 

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you pressed yourself close to him, your face buried in his shoulder and your arm hooking around his back and he trailed his fingers up and down the path of your spine as he felt you fall asleep in his arms, feeling like you and him were right where you belonged for the first time since prom. 

May 2008, the Tuesday after prom 

Why was Ricky always fucking late? 

Joel was pacing below the stadium, his footsteps echoing ominously off the concrete. Ricky’s last block was free, too. He told Joel he could meet him here, he said he’d come as soon as he was done with class and where was he? Not fucking here, that’s for damn sure. 

He pulled out his phone and checked the time. There were only a few minutes left of the school day now and this wasn’t a conversation he wanted overheard if he could fucking help it. 

“Goddammit,” he muttered to himself, clenching and unclenching his jaw. 

“Sorry!” Ricky ran over, hiking his backpack strap up on his arm and looking back over his shoulder. “Ran into Kasey on my way out and she was a little pissed I wouldn’t tell her what the fuck I was running off to do so this had better be good…” 

“I need your help,” Joel said, looking around him one last time, as though anyone really gave a shit about what he’d be saying but still. “And I need you to keep your mouth fucking shut about it, OK?” 

“Sure, man,” he said, frowning. “Stays between us, what’s goin’ on?” 

Joel crossed his arms, his thumb worrying at his elbow and he paced, his tongue in his throat now that he had to actually fucking own up to this. 

“You and Kasey,” he said, watching Ricky. “You two are fucking, right?” 

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “I mean we’ve been dating two years, I’d fucking hope so.” 

“Right,” Joel nodded, his stomach in knots. 

“Jesus, Joel, look like somethin’s eating you alive,” Ricky said. “What, you get herpes or something?” 

“What?” Joel gave him a look. “No, Jesus, I just…” 

He paced for a moment before coming to a stop in front of Ricky. 

“You know I went to prom with Goldie, right?” 

Ricky frowned and said your name, something that sounded so familiar but so foreign to Joel. 

“Yeah,” he continued. “Y’all looked good together.” 

“Right,” Joel nodded, then quickly added. “Thanks…” 

“So,” Ricky said after a minute. “What about it?” 

“Well,” Joel ground his teeth for a moment. “Well we… we had sex.”

“Oh shit!” Ricky laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Good for you, man, she looked hot as fuck that night. She good? I bet she’s good, she looks like…” 

“Hey, fuck you!” Joel yelled and shoved him. “Don’t talk about her like that!” 

“Woah, sorry, fuck!” Ricky said, his hands up. “Didn’t mean anything by it, she just looks… anyway, what’s the problem? You’ve had a thing for her forever, right?” 

“Yeah, but,” Joel said, his voice low. “I didn’t use a condom.”

“Oh shit,” Ricky said. “Why not? You’re a dumbass but I didn’t think you were that much of a dumbass.” 

“I didn’t have a condom,” he hissed. “It’s… it’s Goldie. I didn’t think that was going to happen, not in a million years did I think that was going to fucking happen and I just…” 

“Just what?” He asked. 

“What if I fucked up everything for her?” Joel asked. “What do I do? What if I got her pregnant? You and Kasey must have talked about that shit, right? Had a scare or… or something? My mom checks the fucking computer at home and everything at the school is blocked so I can’t even Google this shit…” 

“Shit, man,” Ricky sighed, his eyes wide. “We haven’t had to deal with that. Fuck knows we’re not perfect about condoms but she’s on the pill. I don’t know if there’s even a clinic around here, I could ask Kasey, she might have some friends…” 

Joel just nodded, still trying not to panic. It felt like he’d been on the verge of panic since the morning after prom and realized what he’d done. How had he done something so fucking stupid? How had he been so goddamn reckless? With you of all people? 

He’d taken the fucking sex ed classes - which was more than his mother had ever said to him, only ever saying “just wait until you’re married before you go thinking about that” - and he knew that it only took one time, one time of him being a fucking idiot and giving in to what he wanted so bad he thought it might swallow him whole if he didn’t to ruin everything. He knew he might have gotten you pregnant and it wasn’t fucking fair that it was your life that would get wrecked because of his stupid fucking choices. He’d trade places if it were possible, make it so he was the one who had to go through all the bullshit and get all the stares for becoming a teenaged parent but it was always worse for girls. He wasn’t stupid, he’d seen it at school and he couldn’t handle seeing that happen to you. Especially if that meant you needing to drop out of college and derail your entire life, everything great you were going to do, because he’d fucked up. 

“Well, hey, at least it’s her, right?” Ricky said, pulling Joel out of his own head. Joel just looked at him. “Could be worse, at least if… you know. At least it’s your friend.” 

“No,” Joel shook his head. “It’s Goldie. I wish it were anyone else. It’d be better if it were anyone else.”

Joel heard signs of people nearby and sighed. 

“Shit,” he said. “School’s out… I need to go try and find her, pick up Tommy…” 

“Maybe it’d be better if you gave it a few days with her,” Ricky said, looking Joel up and down. “You’re freaking out, man. You’re only gonna freak her out, too. Just… Calm down, get your shit together, then talk to her. It’s not like she’s going anywhere, right? I’ll help you come up with a plan just in case but don’t talk to her while you’re freaking the fuck out. It’ll just make it worse.” 

“Right,” Joel nodded. “That’s… you’re right.” 

Ricky clapped him on the shoulder again, giving him a friendly shake. 

“Y’all will figure it out,” he said. “If anyone can, it’s you two.” 

Joel nodded, trying to sort out his thoughts and figure out if he even could actually stay away from you any longer than he already had. 

But, he thought, Ricky was right. You were the smartest person Joel knew and, for you, he was pretty sure he could figure out anything. 

Next Chapter

A/N: Alrighty, I think we have most of the missing pieces to the Goldie disappearance now, right? Yeah? Cool.

I hope this chapter was worth the wait! I know it's been a long time coming for these two and they certainly still have a LOT to work through - the angst is still gonna be angstening for a bit yet because it's me BUT at least they got this far. Thanks for coming along for the ride! I really couldn't love and appreciate you all more.

Love you!!

[echoingalaxies]

cw: hospital/medical stuff mentions, unspecified illness or injury

“You wanna pick up some food on the way?” Caretaker asked, steering her car out of the parking garage and to the intersection.

Whumpee, sitting under a blanket on the passenger seat, watched the hospital disappear as they drove away on the mostly empty highway. He rubbed the pit of his elbow where a small bandage remained to stop the slight bleeding from a cannula.

It had been a long day. New bottles of medicine rattled in the pockets of his jacket when he shifted into a more comfortable position and leaned their head against the headrest. They had sat in the waiting room the whole evening before finally being admitted, and discharged only a couple of hours after. Caretaker hadn’t even tried to argue with the staff anymore. It always ended like this. Not enough beds and not enough people to take care of the ones lying on them.

Whumpee knew he was lucky. He knew he’d be safe going home with Caretaker. But it didn’t mean he didn’t keep dreaming about the day he’d be taken seriously. He’d receive proper care. Otherwise he’d just have to keep going back, over and over again. More pills, more bills, more wasted hours.

“Hello?”

“Oh, uh,” Whumpee blinked, realizing he hadn’t actually given Caretaker a response. “No, I… we should just head home. You’ve got work in the morning, and it’s already way past midnight.”

His stomach let out a loud rumbling sound just then, and Caretaker gave him a quiet look, which Whumpee pretended to not see. He could fix himself a bowl of yogurt at home. Caretaker needed sleep. She deserved it, after putting aside her own responsibilities just to stay with him again.

“What if I told you I already took tomorrow off?”

"What?" Whumpee turned to her, shaking his head. “Caretaker, no. You shouldn’t have.”

Caretaker shrugged. “It’s Friday, we get to have a head start for the weekend. Won’t that be fun?” Her smile faltered slightly and her voice shifted lower, to more serious. “The nurse said someone should keep an eye on you — and I wouldn’t want to leave you, anyway. You still need help.”

Whumpee knew that. He looked down, fidgeting with the hospital wristband. If he’d kept every one of those he’d got even during the past year, he could probably sew them together to make full sleeves for both arms. Money was already tight, as Caretaker worked to support the both of them, and Caretaker missing work because of Whumpee’s various appointments and frequent trips to the ER had had their effect on their income.

“Yes, but…” he said, the familiar tearing feeling of shame finding its place. “I thought we would call Friend or Sibling to stay with me while you’re at work. We have before.”

“Now we don’t have to.” Caretaker glanced at him, frowning. “Do you not… want me to stay?”

“Didn’t they say you can’t keep doing this anymore if you plan to keep your position?” Whumpee asked. “You like your job. I don’t want you to risk losing it because of me.”

“They will understand. I told them it is a family matter.”

Whumpee’s cheeks got hot and he moved his focus away from Caretaker again, watching out of the window instead. They were passing by shops, parks, and pubs, taking many turns in the little streets of their labyrinth of a hometown. Whumpee hadn’t even noticed they had left the main road, but he definitely recognised where Caretaker was heading.

“You didn’t have to lie because of me,” he mumbled, as Caretaker pulled into the parking lot of a local, 24-hour barbeque restaurant they both loved. “About it being a… a family thing.”

Caretaker turned to Whumpee, finally being able to give him her undivided attention as she turned off the engine, smiling softly.

“I didn’t.”

[lawva-girl]

Historically.. We don't mix. pt. 2

Law x fem!Reader, College AU

Pt. 1

Notes: Sorry i took forever, i kinda forgot i even posted this... HERES PT 2!!! let me know about any ponderances or possibly any errors... i dont have a beta reader or anything.. ALSO i could not come up with a nickname for reader..... so in the chat rooms i put "Y:" for "You". PLEASE tell me suggestions i will go back and fix it :D

WC: 2526

Back at the dorm that Law and Bepo shared, there was no chatter. Law was simply laying in bed with his laptop open to 5 tabs, one for each of the classes he was taking. He was taking all history classes this semester, since his counselor told him to. He would definitely miss the bio information but he did like history. Scrolling through each class, he breezed through all of the syllabus quizzes. Once he felt satisfied, it was onto checking his email, with one catching his attention. 

“DIRE!! MAKE AN APPOINTMENT OR TEXT ME ITS EMERGENT!” The email title felt like a scam but he knew it was not, in fact it was a daily burden. The man who had sent it, his counselor and adoptive father, always communicated like this. After opening the email, he found himself irritated again, Cora had only wanted to remind him that classes start today. 

“How would I not know?” Law muttered to himself. Reading through the email, then deciding he had been too neglectful of the man Law opened up their chat.

L: I know it was the first day, I got to my first two classes on time.  C: Good!!! I miss you! <3  C: Any new friends?!  C: Do you like your professors?? I hand picked them :D  L: Hand picked? You are making me socialize on purpose.  C: Not true! Nico Robin is the smartest! She already had her masters by the time most have an associates!  L: The classes are fine. Bepo made a friend, her name is Perona. C: Oh! Mihawk’s kid! Good to know she’s here! Is his step-daughter here too? Maybe y/n?  L: Yes.  C: Oh! I heard she’s similar to you! Maybe you two can be friends or something?  L: How long did you have to think to come up with this plan of yours?  C: No idea what you are talking about…. L: Cora.  C: … C: Anyways, have you gotten all the textbooks you need?  C: I want to make sure you find them all!  C: It's my job, you know.  L: I still have two more classes to go to tomorrow, but i’ll be fine.  L: Thanks.  C: Anything for you! We should meet for lunch soon! I can make you salmon rice balls! Like when you were still a baby… remember? You loved my cooking! L: I did not. You should not be in a kitchen alone, Ill meet you on friday at 11.  L: Don’t start until i'm there. Please.  C: Okay !!!!! C: I'll see you then law! C: Cant wait ! C: Sleep tight <3<3<3 

Law closed his laptop, relaxing his shoulders. He glanced over and Bepo was already asleep. He kicked off his blanket and got up to go to the bathroom. After he finished his business, washing his hands like any good bio major, he strolled to the microwave area. He had only wanted water but he saw the picture of him holding a letter, standing next to Cora. Staring at it, he wondered why the giant had wanted him to socialize so much. It’s not like he never sees human faces, or stays inside all day everyday. He just liked being alone when he could, no one to ask him stupid questions. 

After finishing his water, Law went back to bed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two went through the rest of the week, meeting each other an embarrassing amount of times. Neither one had any reason to talk to the other, so they didn’t. Until Wednesday rolled around, and they were back in Nico Robin’s class. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Someone has it out for me. I know it for sure” You wrote in your journal, along with the date and class name. Looking at Law, like you had these past two days, made you realize it more. 

“I have pissed off whatever god actually exists and they want me to repent. There is no way that all four of my classes are naturally shared with Trafalgar.” You finish scribbling away in your journal, just in time. 

“Okay, pass forward the paper I handed out to you. This was just a fun assignment to see what areas we, as a class, are most interested in.” She spoke smoothly, with an even tone. It was almost like she didn’t care, or like she had done this 20 times. 

You heard some of your classmates groan and while you agreed, you thought it was inappropriate to voice that. Tapping a pen on the paper of your journal idly, you waited for more instructions. Even though your classmates weren't raised well, your father had done a fine job with you. You were nice, respectful, studious. Sure you are shy but it's not like it mattered. 

Why speak to people and risk being embarrassed if they don’t want to talk to you? 

“Okay, as I said before this class is based in groups and communication. Please tell one person about what you studied for this assignment.” Robin had said before sitting at her desk with a book in hand. 

Suddenly everyone was talking but you and one other person. 

“My assignment is on the Five years war. I chose it because of a coin flip, I found the sources in the library database.” Already you were irritated. Another interaction with the man who had no manners. 

“Hello. That is how you start a conversation, who raised you? Anyways, my assignment is on the First Crusade. I chose it because it was the first war I thought of-” “Really? The first? Liar.” He interrupted you, of course a man like him would. 

You squinted at him, before responding with “Not lying, I was watching a documentary on the pope a day before class, which made me think of all the holy wars. It's not polite to interrupt people.” 

“Okay. I think we have discussed enough.” “Fine.” You scoffed at him mentally, before turning back to face the front of the room. 

“Okay now, I want someone to tell me about their partner's work! This is worth participation, as a friendly reminder.” She smiled eerily 

You did not raise your hand, in fact you looked away. If you were called on you would end up having to lie, since stupid Trafalgar didn’t tell you anything about his assignment. 

“Okay, randomly generated, we will have Mr. Trafalgar, Mr. Reyes, and Ms. Churchill. In that order please.” “My partner researched the First Crusade, she told me that she learned about the context of the war. Specifically Pope Urban the second’s motivations for launching the crusade, who was mainly following the lead of the Byzantine emperor. She also learned about the cost of the war, not only economically but also what it did for the Pope’s approval rating.” Incredible. He pulled all that from his ass? Wasn’t he a double major? How long ago did he even learn that? How was he able to say it so confidently? He is actually smart?! Hold on, he could’ve seen the same documentary you did and just so happened to remember important stuff. But even then, he didn’t even hesitate, he was so confident, even with a professor like Nico Robin. 

“Very good, point earned. Mr. Reyes?”

As he relaxed into his chair, you couldn’t help but stare. His hair was sticking out, a bit unruly from his beanie. It was white with weird black spots on it, maybe a statement about faux animal fur? Could he be vegetarian or something? Maybe he likes to hunt? His sideburns went right into his weird facial hair, “should be shaved” was scribbled into your journal, along with “spots?” and of course “T is smart?”. You saw his black hair under his beanie and thought of your father, who would never slouch like the man in front of you was. 

“Okay good to hear. This wraps up our class for today, I’ll see you all on monday.” 

You started gathering your things, excited to go back to Perona. She promised she would have your favorite food ready for you as soon as your class ended. It was a little weird, but you two always were close. 

“Are you always the last to leave?” The sudden voice pulled you from your thoughts, and made you drop your pencil case. No pencils escaped but the case clunked right under whoever had just shocked you. Law, with no expression on his face, immediately thought of his giant  adoptive father; who was extremely clumsy.  

“No. Are you stalking me? I feel like the campus police or a trusted adult should know about this.” You looked up at him, not reaching for your case at all. 

“I’m not, somehow, we have the exact same class schedule. With the exception of my online class.” “That's crazy buddy… Will you grab my case?”

“You can’t get it yourself?” He scoffed and folded his arms. 

“I think the reason why I dropped it should be the one to get it for me, no?” You thought he looked childish, folding his arms like he just got told to go to his room. 

“Fine.” He reached down, grabbing the case and placing it on your desk, “even though you were closer to the floor… I'm sorry.” He looked away as he said it. Once again you thought he was childish. 

You found yourself staring again. This time you noticed his hands, the word ‘death’ tattooed on his fingers, and the heart on the back of his hand. Shocked to say the least.

“Holy shit.” Huh? You said that outloud? Maybe you weren’t nice. 

You looked up to see Law’s face, somewhere between shock and disgust.

“Oh uh.. I meant, holy shit your tattoos are cool. They look like they hurt.” Maybe you saved it, you really did mean it in admiration. 

“It was painful, but worth it. Bearable at times.” He looked at his hand and held it up between the two of you. Shocked that he held it up for display, you raised your eyebrows. Staring at the tattoo, you were about to reach out and hold his hand closer so you could get a better look at the line work. Then your thoughts were interrupted.

“I know we aren’t on the best terms, but you heard the professor. I think it would be a good idea to bite the bullet and partner up.” He said it so matter-of-factly you almost agreed without realizing you were lost. 

“Huh? Partner?” you blinked up at him. “Of course you weren’t paying attention. The collaborative presentation that you and another student must present on the 18th?” He sounded annoyed, but his face wasn’t telling. 

“Yes! Sorry I got lost in my thoughts, we might as well partner up. I don’t have anyone else in mind, so I can stick with you.” You finished packing, finally, and stood up. Swinging your bag onto your back, you held out your hand towards him. 

“Okay… What is that for?” He nodded down to your hand. 

“Give me your phone. I’ll put my email in. We can make a google slide and share it that way.” 

He paused, with a semi frown on his face then gave up. He put his phone in your hand, and watched intently as you typed in something. Then you returned his phone, much to his delight. 

“Bye then. Just do 5 slides on the First Crusade or whatever other war the pope has started.” He put both of his hands in his pocket as he casually strolled out, leaving you to the room. 

“Hey! We should at least pretend you won't be a dick this whole time! Don’t boss me around!” You realized that you had said that just a bit too loud for the circumstances. Maybe you weren’t nice. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y: Okay! I just left class, do you have my salmon nigiri?  Y: You won't believe how good I was today. P: WHST  P: who are you?  P: The y/n i know would never ever say that.  P: Yes i do have it ready :) Y: I had to partner up with Him :/  Y: The strength  Y: Also he has finger tattoos?  Y: What the fuck.  P: You didn’t see them before?  Y: Sir traffy has been through it P: I wonder if hes like some ex-gang member? P: That is such a gang member thing to get tattooed P: Why aren’t you responding?  P: Helllllooooooo  P: y/n P: y/n P: ….

“Rona! You are literally crazy. I was walking over here, that's why I wasn’t responding.” You closed the door behind you, making sure to lock it. 

“Anyways! I’ve never seen you have such a strong reaction! To a guy no less, did he like to recite everything in the declaration of independence?” Perona called out to you while you entered and took off your shoes.

You walked over to the kitchen, where she wasdoing some dishes. Tossing your bag on the couch, then taking a seat at the bar that was connected to the kitchen. “If he did that I would’ve proposed on the spot… He just is kinda smart? It’s freaky! One second he’s brushing me off and not wanting to talk to me at all, the next he's explaining the cause of the First Crusade? Well… Kinda.” Perona turned with two plates in hand, and took a seat next to you. She placed the plate of sushi in front of you, “Well honestly i'm not surprised… Bepo says he is always studying.” 

“You talk about him with Bepo? Perona…” you made a disappointed face at her as you pulled your plate closer to you. “Noooo it’s all kosher! Bepo just offers up info about everyone he knows. I think he just doesn’t have a filter or whatever.”

“Yeah…” you took a piece of nigiri and dipped it, then ate it. As you chewed and swallowed you thought of your dad, “Do you think your dad would come visit us here?” 

“Hmmm only if your dad forced him to. I can picture it now ‘don’t you miss our girls?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Then lets go! You pay and ill bring the beer!’ ‘beer isn’t allowed on a plane shanks’ or something like that…” Perona tried her best but didn’t really get the overall attitude of your dads. You decided not to comment and just take another bite. 

“Do I get to know why you asked?” Perona said, food in her mouth.

“Traffy, as you call him, has hair as dark as Mihawk’s. It made me think of him today…”

“Sigmund Frued would have a lot to say to you right now.” “No he wouldn't, he’s dead.” 

“Not for long…” “What the fuck?” You both burst out in laughter at the same time, something you had only ever done with your sister. 

After dinner it was off to bed, except you weren’t actually sleeping. Your laptop was open on your lap, on the google slides page. The document was created, named, and shared to Traffy. It wasn’t the most well-mannered thing, but you decided that nicknames meant you’re friends. Your sister desperately wanted you to have friends, and this would make her think you had them. You didn’t like the deception, if you could call it that, but it's not like you were gonna go out and get real friends. 

You started typing away, filling out 3 slides with information and pictures before deciding to get actual sleep. 

[russellsppttemplates]

Let me be there for you (Lance Stroll)

Your way of dealing with things makes Lance question if you are both on the same page

Note: english is not my first language. I never thought that a small blurb could lead to this, but I'm happy it did. Thank you to the people who sent in their ideas, and coincidence or not, some of them I already had in mind (some were tweaked a little), and they also go perfect with something I want to do for Lance and reader when they want to start a family, so hopefully soon I'll get to that!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions reader's period, a couple fight, hospital/exams, female fertility problems

"Would you be able to come here by the end of the week?", the lady asked over the phone, "this week is going to be difficult, I need to push a few things around to see if I can make it. Can I call you back once I know for sure?", you suggested back to her, "thank you for understanding. Have a nice day", you ended the call, sighing as you looked at the calendar app open on your laptop and, quite frankly, not seeing many available options for the appointment you were trying to book.

You were in the middle of changing things around when your boyfriend's text interrupted your chain of emails questioning if your schedule could be altered.

"Shoot, forgot that was today!", you cursed yourself for having forgotten that you had planned to have dinner with Lance at your place, now grateful that he had won the battle of who should be in charge of the food despite your previous insistence. The text could read that he was leaving his place to go to the take out place and then he would make his way to yours, which meant you had about forty fives minutes until he arrived.

Deciding that you'd leave the problem for tomorrow, at least until you knew for sure if you had the time, you switched off your laptop and moved to the living room, tidying it up a little and arranging the table so it was set when Lance arrived.

A knock on the door was enough to pull you out of your focus on the show playing on the TV, getting up to open it and allowing him inside, you waited until the paper bag was set on the table so you could cup his cheek and kiss his lips, "hello, sweetheart", he hummed as he separated your lips.

"Hi, handsome, how was your day?", you asked, helping him spread the food containers, "it was good, we did some testing on the latest developments of the car and some promotional videos, too. And yours? Is this a new table?", he said, "it was good. Oh yes, I got this on the weekend, the guys delivered it on Friday and I spent the whole weekend building it", you smiled, seeing Lance look at the plaster on your arm, "I had some trouble with one of the legs, but I got it under control", you explained, seeing his concerned expression, "you could've called for help", he noted, holding your hand as you sat down, "no need, I was able to complete it myself. Hopefully this doesn't fall all over though", you giggled, trying to soften his expression with a kiss on his cheek.

"Do you want to go to this weekend's race?", he asked, biting the food he gathered on the fork, "I don't think I can go, I'd love to, but I was only able to schedule an appointment for the weekend, and even that I'm trying to see if that works, but I'd love to go", you pouted, "I'll be watching from home, I promise", you cupped his cheek, rubbing the stubbly skin and smiling, "this one usually broadcasts early in the morning, like six or something", he nudged you, "then I'll just have to get a big mug of coffee to get me through".

"You said you had an appointment?", Lance recuperated the subject when you had finished tidying the plates, now sitting on the sofa enjoying eachother's presence, "yes, I have to go to a check-up, nothing major", you said, kissing his clothed chest.

.

Since Lance was leaving for Japan the next morning, you opted out to have dinner that his place, despite your insistence that you could do it at yours so he didn't have to worry about having a tidy kitchen and house, "I've told you I don't mind having to clean up, and I always love having you here, especially when you wear my clothes", he reasoned with you, feeling a bit cocky about how you had gone to his wardrobe and grab one of his hoodies because you were cold.

"Did you book the appointment?", Lance asked once you sat on his big sofa while he flickered through the channels, hoping to find something good for you to watch.

"I did, Friday afternoon they're going to do some exams", you subtly mentioned, "exams? I thought it was just a routine check-up", he wondered, now concerned about the situation. Truth was, he sometimes felt like he didn't get everything out of you. Like you'd tell him the basics of your life, almost in a way of not having him just about enough involved in it, but far way enough as well.

"They're doing some studies, but I don't think it's that big of a deal, it's about my period. Probably some bloodwork, they talked about a scan, but only if they think it's necessary", you mumbled, feeling Lance change his position so he could face you.

"Are you sure? I'd like to help in any way I can", he forwarded, "you know I want to be here as much as I can for you, you don't have to go through this alone, or do this alone, I'm here for you", he stated.

"I know, love. But I'm fine", you mumbled, "no need to worry, yeah?".

And it was like it broke then and there. "But I do worry, you know? I want to know things and do things for you, and you barely let me", he began and you allowed for him to continue, sensing that you needed to think about what to say, "it's like you don't want me to be involved in your life, like you don't want to rely on me, you don't want my help. And I'm all in Y/N", he said, rhe frustration clear in his face.

Being on your own for a while did that to a person. You'd grown protective of yourself and of your values, so you burst a lot bigger than intended, "what do you mean? I tell you about my things, and I have you in my life. And I love that, but I don't think I'm pushing you away", you reasoned back.

"You don't?", Lance snapped loudly enough to be heard but calm enough to still allow you to feel safe, "a while ago, you were busy juggling family matters and work matters, and I only found out after the problems were solved. Surely, I couldn't help with the problems themselves, but I could've helped you deal with their burden. Not even to build a table, Y/N. I'm sure I could've helped with that, and this appointment? I'm only finding out you're being examined because I asked. If you don't want me to know things, maybe we need to sort things", he gulped. He himself didn't like that option. He saw a future with you, so suggesting it came out of his mouth as quickly as he regretted saying it.

"I think you're being unreasonable, Lance", you stated. Was this the end of it all?

"We can't see eye to eye on this, can we?", he said, "I think we should think about this, with a clear head. I've already said things I don't mean in the slightest", your boyfriend suggested.

"I think it's a good idea, too", you gulped, getting up and grabbing your bag so you could leave.

You put on your shoes, lacing them carefully whilst feeling Lance's gaze on you, waiting desperately to hear the three words from him. Despite his opinion, you cared about him and wanted him in your life, so much so that at the beggining of your relationship you promised eachother that, no matter what, you'd never let the other go to sleep wondering if the other loved then. You could be mad or upset at eachother, but you had to know you loved eachother, so when he said "I love you", and looked at you, it made you feel a little bit better.

"I love you, Lance. Travel safe, okay?", you said, looking at him one last time before closing the door behind you.

.

The Buzzin Corner had been the first activity Lance got to do that got his mind off of what had happened, and for a bit he actually thought he had a good plan for when he came back, wanting to focus on his race first and then head home to you.

Sebastian had stopped by the Aston Martin hospitality, wanting to greet his old team when he saw Lance sitting in one of the sofas in the corner, "May I? You know being alone always makes your own thoughts louder", he smiled, sitting next to the number eighteen driver.

"Sure, it's probably for the best to be honest", Lance mumbled, "are you enjoying the weekend?", he asked, "it's different when I'm watching the cars race rather than racing myself", the German driver added simply, "it's a good thing I know a lot of people here. Just saw your sister too, and her husband. How is Y/N? I don't mean to be nosy, but I'm curious to know how she is", Sebastian asked Lance. He had met you in the last couple of races from the previous season, keeping you company a few times since you, too, preferred to stay in the hospitality rather than in the buzz of the paddock.

"She's back home, work has been keeping her busy and she had an appointment", Lance forwarded, thinking about telling him more. He and Sebastian had grown close, especially after being teammates, and he seemed to have a good marriage, so maybe he had some helpful insights about the situation. And the worst he could do was gossip about it with Mick, and even that he didn't think would be the case, so Lance figured it was okay.

"Actually, I've been meaning to talk to someone about this", he tried, seeing his previous teammate show no signs of not wanting to hear it, "Y/N, she's incredible, we've established that from the beggining. But I feel like she's not in this as much as I am?", Lance shrugged.

"What makes you think that?", Sebastian questioned, "it's like she doesn't want me to be there for her. Am I unreasonable to think that I should be involved in her life? She never asks for my help, and we had a fight about it before I travelled here", he gulped.

"I don't know her enough to answer from her side, nor do I want such meddling", Sebastian began, "But have you considered how it feels for her?", he pointed out, "I'm not taking any sides here, but I think it's important you see her side and she sees yours. Y/N is an incredibly intelligent woman, you know I said that to you after she visited us for the first race weekend", he smiled, recalling the many teasing comments of the German driver stating how he had definitely got lucky and of how whipped he looked for the young woman. "I don't think she would do anything to purposefully hurt you, I saw how much she cares about you. Maybe her love language is not the same as yours. I remember me and Hanna also had to work around them", he finished.

"I really don't want to lose her, you know?", Lance admitted. He saw a future with you. Whenever he thought about being married or having a family, or even growing old, he had you by his side. Despite knowing you wouldn't want a celebration like his sister had for her wedding, only because it wasn't your thing, but he couldn't help himself but think of how it would be for you. To see you in a dress and celebrate your love in front of the people you cared about most, to dance around and, most importantly, to spend the rest of his days with. "I don't want to throw the towell, but it's difficult to navigate this, and I don't want to say anything that would hurt her. When we talked about it, I already said things I didn't mean", Lance added, looking up at Sebastian, "make sure you talk it out like grown adults. No offensive words thrown around, because that will do you no good. If you're really in love with eachother, you find compromises and discuss them, see where one or the other bends, with balance, of course", the older driver advised, patting his back, "I hope everything goes well with you two, she's an incredible young woman", he smiled.

"Thanks, Sebastian", Lance smiled, too, now wanting the weekend to be over so he could talk to you.

.

Hi, love. I'm sorry your race got cut short but a technical issue. I hope you all have a safe travel home.

Also, I'm going to be home for the next few days because I had a small exam (I'm fine, by the way, just a little crampy), so if you want to drop by so we can talk, let me know, okay? I love you.

Those two texts on his phone warmed his heart slightly. He was gutted that he didn't get to finish the race, but still comforted by the fact that you had been watching and supporting him.

"Smiling about your lover, little brother?", Chloe asked, sitting in front of him. The family was flying back home together and everyone seemed to be either working or asleep, so Lance had the options to either talk to his sister or do what the others were doing.

"Yes, she just texted", he smiled faintly, his eyes not budging the part where you mentioned you'd be home, surely because it was medically prescribed given the exam you had. "She had an appointment today and she's saying she's done with the examination they did", he said.

"Oh, bless her. Is it because of her periods? She was telling me about it the last time we visited and she was very uncomfortable", Chloe thought out loud, "I've never had them, but some of my friends have had them and some of them are hard-core. Hopefully she can manage the pain and hopefully not need surgery", she finished, taking a sip from her drink and not notice how her brother's face had turned into worry.

Pain? Surgery? What was she on about? You mentioned some blood work, scans if they saw fit. But maybe you had a reason behind not telling him, so until then, he was going to work with the information he had.

.

Lance was up bright and early given the jetlag, thinking he would just get his day going before dropping by to your place. When he arrived the day before, he only had the energy to send you a text that he was home before he found the energy to shower and go to sleep, hoping to visit you today.

After his workout and another shower, he got ready and ate breakfast, taking his car keys out of the decorative bowl they lived in before making his way out of the door.

Driving to your place, he rehearsed the words and ideas he wanted to say. Now, he understood the importance of hearing your side of the story, because while he felt frustrated and a little hurt, he knew you were most likely not doing it on purpose, so there had to be another reason behind it.

Sending you a quick text and getting a positive reply back, he made his way to your place, parking his car and heading up to knock on your door.

"May I?", he wondered when you opened the door, getting inside and taking his shoes off before he kissed your forehead, heading with you silently to the living room.

"This is where I've been spending my days, so that's why there's pillows and blankets everywhere", you blushed, sitting yourself in a comfortable position so Lance could sit next to you, "we're here to talk, so do you mind if I start?", you asked, earning his nod.

Letting out a big breath, you looked at your boyfriend's brown eyes, "I've been on my own for a while, so I had to learn how to do things on my own. My parents always made sure I was raised as an independent woman because that gave me a feel of self security and some self confidence", you explained, "and so, for me, asking someone for help or accepting is not as easy as it is for some".

"But is that because you don't trust me to help you? Or that you don't want my help?", Lance asked softly, starting to understand where you were coming from.

"No, not like that. I trust you completely. And when I choose to not ask for help, it was never with the intention of hiding it all from you in a malicious way... I guess I'm just doing things like I was wired to do, and because of that I couldn't understand why you were so upset and mad about it", you breathed out, finally letting it all out.

"Then, maybe you can trust me enough to let me help? I understand where you're coming from now, but I promise I'm only have good intentions, and I want to be here for you. You don't have to deal with things on your own all the time", he brushed some hairs behind your ear.

"I didn't want to seem distant. It's just, I've been like this my whole life, and I never wanted to be overbearing. It's jus how I do stuff, but I'll make an effort to be better. Can't say it will be easy and linear, but we'll talk along the way, yes?", you added.

"Exactly. So, what are these exams?", he asked, holding your hand in his, rubbing the soft skin with his fingers, "I've always had pretty painful cycles, you know that. And because of that, my doctor thought it was best for me to get some further tests just to make sure things are working as they should. This time it was just a blood sample and the did a scan of my belly, and next week I have a smear booked which depends on what the other tests' results say when they come back", you gulped, "they're worried about some conditions, and fertility and all of that, so they think it's best if they catch it early", you shrugged your shoulders.

"Why didn't you tell me?", he asked, "Well, we established I'm not the best at asking for help, am I?", you blushed, "it's a lot for someone to take in. They keep saying that it could be nothing or that it could be something big, we just have to wait and see. And you've been in hospital recently in far worse shape, I didn't want to burden you", you said, earning a shake from his head, "I want to he here for you as much as possible in this, if you'll let me, please. Wether it's just bloodwork of a full body scan. I don't care if they're poking you with needles or some sort of exam, I want to be there because I care about you. You could never be a burden for me, and in matters like this, I'm not letting you walk through it alone, no matter what happens, okay?", Lance checked, earning a nod, "I need words, sweetheart", he teased, "yes, I'll tell you", you smiled, cupping his cheeks so you could press your lips in his.

"And we'll talk to eachother whenever we feel like we're not being understood. I don't care what it is about, we talk about it. You want me out of your hair? Okay. I need you to let me help you put on a sock? Let's do it!", he chuckled, making you smile too, "I want you for the long run, so I'm willing to make this work for the best if you are, too", he kissed your forehead, "we have a deal?".

Smiling, you pecked his lips a few times, "we have a deal. Thank you for being so understanding", you blushed, nuzzling your face in his chest, "now, I'm just going to get you a hot water bottle, your meds, and then we'll get comfortable enough to watch this show".

[maybege]

217 with paz pls🥺

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Summary: You visit Paz at one of his conference after not having seen him for a long time.

Pairing: sugar daddy!Paz Vizsla x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 9.1k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: explicit sexual content, dom!Paz, sub!Reader, a whole lot of size kink, hints of exhibitionism, unprotected sex, idiots in love, kind of a fake relationship agreement not really a sugar daddy arrangement, lots of checking in and pausing due to size difference (Paz’s BDE is real), crying during sex (from pleasure not pain, Paz makes sure of that), just pure fluff and happiness but also they are idiots in love so remember that

Prompts: #3 “I'd hold onto something if I were you.” + #32 “I just wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it.” + #217 “Can you help me with this zipper?” + “There we go.”

Thank you, anon and @adancedivasmom for sending in these prompts! I know it has been a very long time in the making but inspiration strikes when it strikes and I wrote over half of it in the last 48 hours. It drifts from fluff to pure filth back to utter fluff and I just love how idiots in love I can put in with these two. They have the most unconventional relationship (again, a reminder that this is not an actual sugar daddy dynamic, it is just a kind of very unusual meet cute) so of course they will also have an unusual way of perceiving and revealing their feelings for each other. You can find the Masterpost to this AU here (including some hcs). I really had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you have a lot of fun reading it as well. Pretty please let me know what you think in a comment or a reblog, they really do mean the world to me and motivate me so much when it comes to writing and sharing my little brain babies. ❤️

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

gif by @bernthality

“How is my favourite cat?”

“She is busy knocking over the flowers you sent over.”

Crash!

You sighed.

“Maybe we should really invest in these break-safe vases your sister recommended,” you murmured, trying to sit up so you could peek over the edge of the sofa. Safe enough, Snowball was sitting on the sideboard in the entryway, peering down at the shards as if it was as much a mystery to her as it was to you.

“That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea,” Paz chuckled, rubbing his chin, “I will text her tomorrow.”

The sound of his laugh seemed to get Snowball out of her thoughts and she bounded for the sofa you were currently laying on. With a loud meow, she jumped onto the armrest, laying low so she could butt her little face next to yours, in plain view of the camera.

“Look who has come to say hello,” you smiled, tilting the phone so he could see her more clearly. Your other hand reached up to scratch her little chin.

“New York’s most important cat,” he agreed and you hoped the phone would pick up the purr she let out as she leant into you.

“She misses you,” you murmured, “She hardly stopped staring at the door yesterday.”

As soon as the words left your mouth you wanted to take them back. You had sworn to yourself, in the early days of your fake relationship or whatever it could be called, that if there was one thing you would do it was to lift Paz up. And if that required you to hide how much you missed him (ridiculous amounts, really) then so be it.

“I miss her too,” he sighed, “And you.”

“How is the trip so far?” you asked, trying to sound more chipper, “Are the investors as happy as you’d hoped?”

“They are as boring as I expected them to be,” he shrugged before a slight smile formed on his lips, “But I cannot wait for the shareholder’s dinner on Saturday. Are you still planning to come?”

“Of course, I am,” you said indignantly, sitting up at the, “We haven’t seen each other in three weeks!”

Paz laughed, “I am sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean any offence,” his face softened, “Briggs will pick you up on Friday for the flight so you have time to relax. There shouldn’t be a lot of appointments I made sure –“

“Mr Vizsla? There is – oh.”

You could see one of his assistants in the background, clearly only now releasing that he was in a private conversation. There was a quick flash of displeasure on Paz’s face that disappeared as soon as you noticed it and you were sure that it was only because you knew him so well by now that you had recognized it.

“It’s all right,” you soothed him, already seeing the apology on his face. He had once said he hated goodbyes, especially because they were never his choice, and you could see it now, too, the way he seemed to be searching for the right words to appease you.

“I will see you in a few days,” you smiled, “I can’t wait.”

“Me neither, sweetheart,” he sighed, “Give Snowball some kisses from me, yeah?”

*

You spent the week feverishly preparing for your trip. It was funny to think that the part of your relationship that you found the most luxurious was the one that was actually at the core of your arrangement. Paz was lonely and on many occasions, his advisors advised, would work in his favour if he had a female companion to fulfil the picture of the man who had his life together. So somehow your accidental match on a drunken night had led to you being his travel companion. And the platonic companionship had quickly developed into something … not quite platonic.

To think that a stupid drunken idea by your friend had led you to sit on your bed, surrounded by the prettiest dresses you had ever seen and contemplating which one to take.

The doorbell rang you out of your thoughts and you laughed when Snowball skittered over the wooden floorboards to greet her second favourite man in the world.

“Briggs, you are early,” you greeted the older man with a smile and no venom in your voice. If there was one person on Paz’s team that made you feel welcome, it was him. Paz’s most trusted advisor and, quite tellingly, also yours.

“Good morning, Miss,” he nodded at you, straightening his tie before bending down to pet a purring Snowball, “Good morning, Miss Snowball.”

“You know you can call me by my name,” you reminded him as you made your way back to your bedroom and your half-packed bag.

“Old habits die hard, Miss,” the older man called from the living room, “Are you quite ready? I have arranged a car to take us to the airport, it should be here in five minutes.”

You rushed into the bathroom and picked up your already prepped toiletries bag and stuffed it into your suitcase. It might just be a weekend trip but if there was one thing you had learned when travelling with Paz Vizsla for business it was that it was always safe to pack two fancy outfits for every occasion – just in case.

“Five minutes should be enough,” you answered, “I got most of the packing done yesterday, I just need your help with something.”

When you popped your head through the door, you spotted Snowball rubbing herself against Briggs’s legs as the man primly sat in an armchair. He turned to look at you and the two dresses you were holding up. “Which one do you think –“

“The dark blue one,” the man decided with a nod, already knowing what you were going to ask, “Mr Vizsla has his dark blue tie with him, that should harmonize nicely.”

“Thanks,” you sighed a breath of relief, carefully folding the dress on the very top before closing the bag, “I can always count on you to make the best choices.”

“And to be on time,” the man added, standing up and running his hands over his jacket, “Which means that we should get going if do not want to miss our plane.”

*

The conference meeting Paz was attending took place on the coast, in one of those fancy beach hotels that looked like it was a luxury that had survived from the last century. It was stunningly beautiful and you found yourself admiring the golden accents and hand-painted wallpapers before you could even start to really appreciate the tastefully quiet piano player in the corner.

“Welcome, are you checking in?” the receptionist greeted you as another employee loaded your suitcase on a golden luggage trolley.

“Uh yes, I am here to join Mr Vizsla,” you answered, always feeling a little nervous when you had to make your connection to him known.

Recognition dawned on her face. “Ah yes,” she typed something into the computer before handing you a key card, “Mr Vizsla told us to be expecting you. Here’s your key card, you’ll need it for the elevators and all the amenities which you will find on the second floor. Just around the corner here,” she leant towards you and pointed towards a little nook, “take the elevator up to the eighteenth floor and you will find your room on the right side of the hall. Do you need anything else?”

You nodded, taking the card in hand. “That would be all for now, thank you.”

“Should I have your bags brought up?”

“That would be kind, thank you,” you smiled at the young man who hurried your bag away.

Briggs, who waited behind you for his turn to check in, cleared his throat. “Mr Vizsla is still in some talks, I’m afraid but if you like I could organize a dinner reservation for you.”

Shame filled you when you remembered what time it was. You hadn’t even thought about food. “I think, I will be fine, Briggs, thanks, I will just get some room service.”

The older man nodded, “Then a very good night, Miss. I shall see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Briggs.”

*

The suite Paz stayed in was, not to anyone’s surprise, absolutely gorgeous. The bedroom was large and the bed the largest you had ever seen. You smiled when you saw one side completely untouched – your side – and his clothes neatly folded on one of the armchairs. The wall opposite the bed was dominated by a flat-screen TV and the little desk by the window could barely be seen through piles and piles of paperwork.

After tipping the bellboy, you immediately took off your shoes and buried your toes in the soft cream carpet. You always dressed for comfort when it came to travelling but there was still nothing better than unpacking your suitcase and putting on your pyjamas for a comfortable night in.

You had just checked your cameras at home (Mrs Marigold had been so kind to volunteer and check in on Snowball every day) and made sure that Snowball was comfortable and taken care of when your phone vibrated with a new message.

Paz: Talks take even longer than expected. Don’t wait for me.

Then,  just a moment later, another message popped up.

Paz: I am glad you are here.

You: Should I order some food for you? Gonna get some room service.

Paz: Got dinner here but I can recommend the tacos on there, had them yesterday and they were delicious.

You smiled at the screen, sending him a quick heart emoji. Already feeling closer to the. And so, you ordered yourself the tacos, watched reruns of The Nanny and lounged on the bed, already knowing that tomorrow you would wake up with Paz beside you.

*

You flinched up, eyes wide open as something woke you. You just didn’t know what. It took you a moment to realize you were in a hotel room and not at home. Someone was beside you and your heart stopped in fright for a second before it resumed beating in your chest.

It was Paz.

“I’m sorry,” the man whispered in the dark, scooting behind you, “I missed you.”

You smiled, relishing in the heat of his body against yours. He was shirtless and his mouth on your shoulders made you giggle. But your smile faded when he shifted away from you and the bed lifted with someone taking their weight off it.

“What are you doing?” you mumbled, reaching your arm behind you only to find cold sheets.

“I need to shower,” he grumbled, “I stink.”

“Don’t go,” you pleaded, “We can shower tomorrow.”

You could hear the grin in his voice, “We?”

The blanket was lifted again and he was back behind you, so close not even a sheet of paper would have found space between your bodies. In the back of your mind, you wished you weren’t as tired, that you could appreciate his presence more. But then his arm wrapped around your middle and his breath fanned over your neck and you felt the happiest in weeks.

“Yes,” you murmured, closing your eyes again and allowing your body to drift back to sleep, “We.”

*

It was barely light out when you woke again.

“Paz?” you asked, sleepily, reaching for him only to find the space beside you empty. Again. You sat up, afraid that perhaps all of it had been a dream. What if Paz hadn’t come last night? What if something had happened?

Blinking, you finally found your focus and heard the water shut off in the bathroom. Moments later, Paz came in, a towel wrapped around his hips and you bit your lip. In the curtain-clad twilight of the room, it seemed he had not noticed yet that you were awake, sneaking his way to the wardrobe and taking out a new dress shirt.

You let your eyes roam over the broad expanse of his back, how the muscles bunched and flexed as he moved through the room. There was that spot just under his shoulder blade that you loved to run your hands over and if he just turned around – ah yes, there was that tattoo that you traced with your fingers.

“I thought we would shower together?”

Paz looked up, his dark eyes meeting yours and even in the dim light, you could see the smile on his face. He let the shirt fall and with two big steps, he was at the end of the bed, crawling towards you as you let the blanket fall from your chest and wrapped your arms around his neck. He breathed in deeply, his nose running over your jaw. And then his lips were on yours and you got to kiss him for the first time in weeks.

You hummed, smiling against him as your fingers played with the soft hairs at the nape of his neck, still a little damp from his shower. His mouth was gentle on yours and the stubble on his chin let you know he hadn’t shaved today.

“I missed you, sweetheart,” Paz whispered between kisses, his mouth wandering to your jaw. You closed your eyes, your arms loosening around him as you tilted your head to the side to give him more access. “Did you miss me too?”

“Uh huh,” you brought out, his large hands cupping your face, his entire hand spanning your jaw to behind your ear, “Missed you so much.”

“Can’t wait for the dinner tonight,” he said, turning your head so he could kiss you on the mouth again, his tongue slipping between your lips. You shuddered, your fingers combing through the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. You loved seeing him in his professional get-ups with his hair slicked back and his sharp-cut suits. But there was something to say about how different he looked when he was just freshly showered. He looked much lighter, brighter and overall softer. Like a truer version of himself that you knew he hid when he attended meetings like these.

“Briggs helped me choose the dress,” you murmured, leaning more and more into him, “You will love it.”

“I’ll be sure to thank him,” he whispered back, pulling you against him and leaning back until you straddled him, “I have a meeting this morning as well. I am afraid I won’t have more time for you until tonight.”

“When will you need me?” you asked, taking in how soft he looked. There was no frown between his eyebrows, and he looked so … peaceful and relaxed.

He was silent for a moment, his eyes fluttering as you traced your finger over his jaw. “I always need you,” he whispered and closed his eyes, turning his face to the side and pressing a kiss to your palm, “I swear I don’t know how I ever got through these things without you.”

“I am sure you did fabulously,” you assured him with a smile, kissing the corner of his mouth, “And it will all be over tonight.”

“It will all be over tonight,” he repeated in a murmur, “And then I can show you how much I missed you.”

*

Hours later, the ringing phone woke you from your dreams.

“Hello?” you asked groggily into the speaker, feeling even more tired than when Paz had left you this morning to attend the very last meetings.  

“Good morning, Miss, this is the reception calling,” a woman chirped from the other end, “Mr Vizsla asked us to remind you of your spa appointment in an hour.”

You huffed with a smile. That was so typical of him.

“Thank you,” you murmured, “I really would’ve forgotten about it.”

“Would you like to order room service for breakfast?”

“Uh, yeah,” you asked, looking frantically around for the menu, “I, uh, I don’t know what I want yet …”

“May I suggest our breakfast special?” the woman on the line suggested candidly, “It has some fresh pressed orange juice, coffee, pastries and eggs however you want them.”

“That sounds good,” you nodded, “Could I have them scrambled please?”

“Of course, I will have it brought up shortly.”

*

When the afternoon was nearing its end, you felt more relaxed than ever in your life.  

Paz had booked what felt like the entire spa menu for you and after all kinds of massages, treatments and relaxing sauna visits, you felt like you were living on a cloud. But truly the best thing about your spa visit was that it distracted you from the entire day you had without Paz. Because as soon as you opened the door, you were greeted with your very favourite sight.

Paz Vizsla was clad in only briefs as he unglamorously hopped into a new pair of slacks.

His face turned up and a blinding smile came onto his lips. A smile you could only reciprocate.

And before you knew it you hurried into his arms and he hold you against his chest, stumbling from how his feet were tangled into the piece of clothing but you couldn’t care less when he kissed you like a man starved.

“Remind me to never go this long without seeing you,” he grunted between kisses, “I always hate it.”

You couldn’t answer from how his tongue was playing with yours, your core clenching at how close he was. Stars, you wanted to do other things than preparing for dinner.

And it seemed that Paz wanted that too because his hands cupped your ass, pushing you against him and there was definitely a prominent bulge pressing against your hip.

“When’s the dinner start?” you asked breathlessly, running your hand over his warm chest before tracing your fingers over his lower stomach.

Paz’s hips surged forward, urging you to touch him and you could feel your cheeks and frankly your entire body heat up with want. “Too soon,” he answered, sitting down on the edge of the bed and pulling you between his legs. His hand shifted to your hips and he looked up at you.

The bathrobe you had worn to the spa gaped open at the neck and you watched him tug at the fuzzy belt with a smirk. The cool air caressed your bare skin and could feel your nipples harden under Paz’s admiring gaze.

You lifted your knee to the bed right next to his hip, hoping to look as enticing as possible. “Don’t you think we have enough time for a –“

“I am not going to have the first time I fuck you in weeks be a fucking quickie,” Paz complained, though his hands did pull you closer for a minute, “I want to take my time with you, make you feel good.”

“You always make me feel good.”

“I could make you feel better.”

“Paz,” you whined when he pushed your leg off him, making you stand again, “Please.”

But the large man was not to be swayed, even with his erection too prominent to ignore, “Not yet, sweetheart, just let us get through this dinner first.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

You pointedly looked at his crotch.

“Don’t you worry,” he grinned, “I am going to take care of that and then I am going to take care of that tuxedo Briggs got me to bring.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“But you love me for it.”

And the sad truth was: You did.

*

“Can you help me with this zipper?” you asked, turning your back to a just-emerging-from-the-shower Paz, “I can’t reach it.”

Paz did not let you wait, immediately stepping behind you, the heat of his body radiating onto your back. “You look so beautiful,” he said, his fingertips grazing your bare skin before getting a hold of the zip. It was a dark blue silk dress, one that accentuated and hugged your curves and made you feel irresistible with the deep back and swooping neckline.

“We’re in partner look,” you joked, glancing at the dark blue tie he was wearing, “You look very handsome, Mr Vizsla.”

He grinned, turning you around, “And I am sure no one will notice when I am accompanied by a beautiful woman such as yourself.”

And you were proven right because the first words you heard when you entered the hotel’s restaurant that had been booked for the occasion were: “Mr Vizsla, what a beautiful companion you have brought with you this fine evening.”

“Mr Organa,” Paz greeted the man in front of you, “A pleasure to meet you again.”

He introduced you to him and you shook the man’s hand, reciprocating his friendly smile. “I do hope we get to talk again, Mr Vizsla,” the man said when the bell rang, “But now I think it is time to eat.”

Spending the evening with him once more reminded you of how much you loved him – even when you tried your hardest not to. Paz made sure to scoot as close to you as possible, his chair touching yours and it did not take long for his arm to settle comfortably on the back of your chair.

He laughed with his business partners, talking numbers and making jokes and it took everything in you not to spend the entire time just staring at him like a love-struck teenager. Mrs Organa, who was fortunately sat next to you, involved you in a conversation about the most recent restoration projects of a Mr Boba Fett and so you spent the evening with Paz’s fingers brushing your shoulder and the occasional kiss on the cheek and talking to an incredibly interesting woman.

And still, all you wanted was for Paz and you to be alone.

“When do you think it would be not too early to go?” you asked him teasingly as the dessert was served. It was a delicate chocolate-y creation, served on a giant plate with what looked to be mango sorbet beside it.

His arm left your shoulders but his hand immediately landed on your knee, fingers drifting even higher. Paz chuckled, “I’d suggest now but the way you’re eyeing that chocolate soufflé has me thinking otherwise.”

You glared at him for his joke but the man just grinned, his dark eyes twinkling with joy as he took a bite of his own portion. The conversations around you continued and you watched as almost everyone went out to the dancefloor and the lights dimmed on the dining tables.

But all you could do was admire Paz out of the corner of your eyes. He was relaxed, leaning back in his chair as he observed everyone and even when he was lacking any tension in his shoulders or on his face, he looked so much in control of everything.

Stars, he was handsome.

His hand crept up on your thigh and you shifted, feeling the heat rise into your cheeks as he planted a kiss on your bare shoulder. “What are you thinking about, love?”

You loved when he called you that.

“You,” you replied, tilting your head to the side and smiling when his hand came up to turn your face towards him, pulling you in for a kiss.

“What are you wasting your precious thoughts on little old me?” he teased you, his big hand cupping the side of your neck.

“Old? Maybe,” you grinned, “But little? I don’t think so.”

He growled playfully, surging forward to kiss you again. Hard. His teeth grazed your bottom lip and you opened up for him, letting him control the kiss. When his free hand slipped down your side, his fingers passing your chest dangerously close, you squeezed your thighs.

“Paz,” you whimpered against his neck, gasping for breath, “I haven’t felt you in weeks.”

He growled, his hand landing dangerously high on your lap before discreetly squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh, his fingers so close to your core you were surprised the fabric of your dress did not come back with a wet spot. “Believe me,” he said, “I am more than aware of how long it’s been.”

Eternally grateful that the other guests had left your table to join the dancefloor, you opened up your legs the tiniest bit for him, needing his fingers just that much closer. Way closer than they were now. The grin on Paz’s face made your heart (and pussy) pulse and you swallowed thickly.

“I just missed you so much,” you said quietly, trying to bite your lip seductively.

“Did you now?” he leant forward, his nose brushing against yours. His fingers flexed, brushing higher on the inside of your thighs.  

“Uh huh,” you nodded eagerly, cupping his cheek to hold him closer. The stubble was rough under your fingertips and you remembered that time he ate you out in his city car in bright daylight. Stars, the things this man did to you ….

Paz chuckled darkly and kissed you again, soft and gentle while his fingers brushed over the thin fabric of your panties. His teeth tugged on your bottom lip just as your hips bucked against his hand and all shame left you.

If he wanted to fuck you out in the open you might just allow it if it meant you could finally feel him again.

But suddenly Paz was standing up and you were standing up and he was holding your hand, thick digits wrapping around your wrist as he dragged you towards the exit. You stumbled after him, a little confused but more excited than anything.

“We’re leaving now,” he grumbled, pushing the elevator button, “Waited weeks to see you again, I am not waiting any longer.”

The doors opened and Paz let you in first. You watched as he pressed the button at the very top and then turned to you. The look on his face made your breath catch in your throat. He had his hands in his pockets and the dark suit looked so good on him and then he had that slow smile on his lips as he approached you.

Your back bumped against the wall of the small room and your hands behind your back grabbed onto the waist-high bar they had installed on each wall.

“That’s right,” he murmured, his big hands caging you in, “I'd hold onto something if I were you.”

“Paz,” you said, your voice barely a whisper between the two of you.

“What?” he mocked you, his nose dragging along your shoulder, “All speechless now that you finally have my attention?”

You did not reply, probably proving his exact point but stars you were so turned on you just did not know what to say. Especially not when his large hand drifted along your thigh before grabbing your knee and lifting it up to his hip. He slotted his body against yours and his bulge pressed against your core. XXXX

“Don’t worry, I won’t take you like this,” he assured you, slowly grinding against you, “Can you tell me why?”

You whimpered, trying to move against him to get that pressure on your clit that you so badly wanted but his hips had you pinned in place.

“Tell me why first,” he instructed, “Then I’ll let you move.”

“Because-cause it’s too big,” your cheeks felt flush with warmth, “You don’t fuck me without preparation because you – you don’t want to hurt me.”

“Good girl,” he grinned, showing his teeth before using those same teeth to drag down the strap of your dress. Your head fell back and you regretted wearing a bra that night because it meant your nipples were rubbing against the lace instead of the cold fabric of Paz’s dress shirt.

The elevator pinged and you froze, your eyes immediately flitting to the little number over the door. This was not your floor.

Paz had a steel grip on your knee, preventing you from taking it from his hip. You could hear the door slowly opening and your heart raced for reasons other than the sheer excitement that Paz caused in you.

You watched as the dark-haired man slowly turned around, uncaring about the mess of his hair or your half-naked form in his arms.

“Take the next one,” he said and pressed the button for the doors to close. Then he leant back to you, one hand cupping the side of your neck, his thumb brushing over your jaw, while the other wandered from your knee to your hip, gripping at the naked skin.

You did not even catch a glimpse at the people he had spoken to. Paz’s body was completely shielding you from their view and somehow that did not help the wetness between your thighs.  

“I swear sometimes all I could think about was what it would be like to fuck you again,” he whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss just underneath your earlobe, “

The way from the elevator to your room was a blur of wet kisses, wandering hands and hot skin. Somehow, Paz managed to find the key card in his jacket and you both fell into the room more than you walked, refusing to let go of each other.

Paz walked you back to the bed, one hand reaching for the lube on the nightstand while the other opened his belt. Your breathing felt heavy and you were sure your panties must have been completely drenched at this point. Your hands found the hem of your dress and you pulled it up to your hips, not having the patience to get completely undressed.

Stars knew you had the time tonight. You could take it off later.

Paz pulled out his cock and you watched mesmerized as he put a generous drop of lube in his palm before wrapping his hand around his shaft. The cocky smile on his face told you that he had caught you watching but you were. At this point, your relationship with Paz was nothing new – especially not your physical one – but his size always left you feeling nervous.

He was not only long but also thick and while you knew.

“Could stare at your pussy all day long,” he murmured, his fingers tightening around his shaft before rubbing his fingers carefully over your folds. You squirmed, the lube making you feel. One finger entered you and shortly after another one.

Paz pumped his fingers inside you slowly, his eyes mustering your face for any sign of pain but all you did was whine, trying to push your hips against his. Your walls clamped around him and when his thumb rubbed over your clit ever so slightly, you swore you already saw stars.

“Feels like you are ready,” he determined, the pace of his fingers picking up before slowing down again. Until they barely moved.

“Oh, stars why’d you stop?” you threw your head back, arching your back so you could take them deeper, “Don’t stop, Paz.”

A third finger appeared at your entrance and Paz pressed a kiss to your hip. “It never gets old,” he murmured against your skin, “Watching you take my fingers.”

“Would be much rather taking your cock right now,” you replied breathlessly, moaning when he pushed his fingers a little deeper.

Paz did not answer in the form of words but he pulled his fingers out and stood up. Having him look down on you gave way to another rush of wetness from your core. He looked so dishevelled and sexy, half-dressed with his cock hard as a rock.

“Spread ‘em for me,” he growled, taking his cock in his hand while the other pushed on your inner thigh. He stepped closer between your legs, his hand warm on your thigh.

“Good girl.”

Your walls clenched around nothing at his praise.

The feeling of his cock against your pussy brought back that little nervous voice in the back of your head. What if he would not fit?

But Paz knew how to calm you down. The heat of his body against yours paired with his forearm resting next to your face and his fingers tracing your hairline as he looked at you was the perfect combination for you to focus just on him. On the feeling of his skin against yours, the sound of his heavy breathing in your ear, the scent of his cologne in your nose.

When the tip of him pushed inside you, you gasped. He was bigger than you remembered and you were thankful for the amount of lube and your wetness that eased his movements.

Your breathing got faster and you could feel your walls stretch to accommodate his size. Paz’s fingers and you. His brows were furrowed and though his eyes were half-lidded with pleasure, they always met yours and you knew, you just knew, he was trying to see if he hurt you.

It felt like he was pushing all the air out of your lungs and you found yourself holding your breath, feeling his small thrusts stretch your walls more and more. Your belly fluttered and you felt so close to him that it made your heart sing.

“How – how much more?” you asked in a gasp, pushing your chest against his shirt to get some sensation on your nipples.

The large man looked down between you, his hand absentmindedly coming up to pinch your nipple, making you squeeze around him. 

He chuckled, his nose brushing against yours when he looked up again, “It’s barely in, love.”

Your smile fell and panic took over for a solid second. You could see the moment Paz took in your change of heart because his smile faded as well and his hand came up to cup your jaw. “What is it, love? Are you all right?”

“What – What if it is too big, Paz?” you asked shyly.

Paz frowned, though you did not get the feeling that it was because he was displeased with you, and slowly pulled out. “Then I will make it fit,” he said, “Or I will make you come on my tongue. Whatever you want, my love.”

You whined, immediately missing the feeling of him inside you. He peppered kisses along your neck, his hands under your dress, gripping your ass as he pulled you closer to the edge of the bed. His eyes focused on your core and the sparkle you saw in there made your heart flutter and your pussy clench.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you tried to give him more space. “I want you to make it fit,” you decided, feeling a little embarrassed at sounding so needy, “Please.”

Paz hummed, “Always so polite.” His shoulders pushed against the back of your knees as he looked at you. His eyes were so intense and, at that moment, you were convinced he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Deep breaths,” he reminded you, his thumb circling your clit as he rubbed his cock all over your folds, “I know you can take it. You know you can take it.”

You nodded, more to assure yourself than him. Because he was right. You had taken him countless times before and you could take him now. And if you couldn’t then it would not be the end of the world.  

Noticing you relaxing back into the sheets, Paz rested more of his weight on you. “Do you remember our safe word?”

You nodded quickly, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

“I do,” you confirmed, “You won’t hurt me, Paz.”

“I know how stubborn you can be,” he reminded you gently before pressing a quick kiss to your lips, “I want you crying because I gave you too many orgasms, not because I am hurting you.”

You smiled at his comment but that smile quickly turned into a silent Oh when he circled your clit with his cock. Then he tapped his shaft against your pussy again and again and again. He felt hot and heavy and the wet sounds only spurred on the fire inside you. Stars, you wanted this man so bad.

The change in position helped a lot because this time he got the tip inside you like it was nothing.

“You are doing so good for me,” he murmured, his hips moving against yours in slow and small thrusts while his finger kept playing with your clit, “You are such a good girl for me, love, you deserve the world.”

There was nothing you could answer. Your throat was full of words but all you got out were breathless gasping sounds as you felt him get deeper and deeper. In your search to hold on to something, anything, you found his hand. You gripped his fingers so tightly, you were afraid to hurt him but Paz only squeezed back, his dark eyes searching yours and probably finding nothing but utter devotion in them.

Just like his.

His lips landed on yours so gently, it distracted you from everything. There was nothing but you and him and the way you felt so connected.

“Feel that?” he asked you quietly, his breath mingling with yours. You blinked, not really knowing what he meant. Paz smiled, his eyes softened when he laid his hand on your lower abdomen. “You took it all, sweetheart, you took all of me.”

“Oh,” you murmured, a little astonished, “Really?”

He laughed, “Really, love. How are you feeling?”

You thought for a moment, trying to take in all that you were feeling. “Full,” you answered truthfully, “But good.”

“Good, huh?” Paz started to move again, slow at first, making sure there was enough wetness and not a single trace of pain on your face, “It feels good to have me fill you up like this, huh?”

You nodded, too shy to repeat his words. Something was just how filthy he could get. And how he loved to fluster you with his said filthy words.

“Fucking dreamt of your pussy gripping me,” he grunted in your ear, his pace picking up, “Next time I am taking you with me. There is no way I am going to fly anywhere again without you sitting in my lap and taking my cock like a champ.”

“What – what about your advisors?” you asked, your body moving up the bed with the force of his thrusts.

“They can watch for all I care,” he murmured, “I already know the only one who can make this pussy stretch is me. I am the only one that can make you feel like this, aren’t I? The only one who can make you come and still beg for more.”

You nodded helplessly, feeling like you were about to burst at the seams. And then Paz changed the angle of his thrusts ever so slightly and you were done for.

“P-Paz, fuck, I’m –“ you gripped his shoulders, the tingling in your belly getting stronger and stronger, “Paz, I think I’m coming.”

Normally, that would only get him to move quicker, to have his fingers work on your clit in a way that was sure to get you over the edge before he came inside you. So, what you expected from your breathless announcement were Paz’s encouraging words while he slightly pinched your clit and bit your lip. What you didn’t expect him to do was simply stop his thrusts with an uttering of “Not yet you aren’t.”

Completely dazed, you looked at him as he pulled out. “Stand up,” he instructed. His voice was stern but not unkind and you blinked, watching him take off his tie and quickly unbutton his shirt. Your body ached with the lack of him and you weren’t sure if it was a tremble in your muscles that only you noticed but stars you felt like you were shaking.

Paz completely undressed and you tried your best to put your weight on your legs, your hands gripping the edge of the bed. But sitting up after having your thoughts fucked out of you by one Paz Vizsla seemed to be a bad idea because it just wasn’t working.

Paz seemed to notice your struggle, his hands pausing on his belt and he tilted his head, watching you fall back on the bed with a sigh.

“Do I need to call you Bambi?” he teased you, his hands coming up under your elbow and gently helping you up, “Or are you that fucked out already?”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, trying to think of a good reply. Only you could not come up with one because, stars, did he look good and, stars, did it feel good to be fucked by him. And it felt good to be with him and to touch him and to be touched by him and –

He stepped closer until his chest was pressed against yours, not saying anything. Your hand gripped his forearm and you waited with bated breath as he leant slightly over you. His fingers brushed over the nape of your neck, down your back until he found the zipper of your dress and slowly pulled it down, his hand tracing over your spine in the process.

When he reached the end, you shimmied your hips, the dress pooling at your feet. His eyes roamed over your figure, noticeably stopping at the way your panties were still pushed to the side.

“Beautiful,” he said, more to himself than to you but it warmed your heart nonetheless. Wordlessly, he helped you out of your underwear as well, his hands caressing your skin every chance he got. You had never felt so desired in your life.

His hand closed around your elbow and he started moving across the room.

“What are you doing?” you asked, following him away from the bed. You still felt uneasy on your legs but you knew you could trust Paz to hold you up and when he noticed your difficulty, he slowed down before stopping at the window front overlooking the city.

“I just wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it,” he explained as if it was no big deal.

You paused for a second and so did he, taking in your reaction.

“There is something about fucking you for everyone to see and knowing that no one gets to see you like this,” he elaborated, “Because I want you to look out at the world when you cream around my cock and recognize how fucking perfect you are.”

“Okay,” you nodded.

His smile lit up the entire room and he took your hands in his, positioning you exactly how he needed you. His calm but dominant demeanour made your pussy pulse again, reminded you how fucking confident he was when it came to your pleasure and how happy it made you to be able to fulfil some of his desires as well.

“There we go, put your hands right here and – beautiful,” he murmured, his hands intertwining with yours against the glass, “Now just spread your legs and there we go.”

The glass was cold under your palm and you could see the fog forming around your hand where the temperatures collided. Behind it, you could see the colourful lights of the city that a million people called their home. You were so high up there were barely any buildings that even reached your level but it did not help your nervousness to know that behind each little light there was at least one person.

There were hundreds of lights in your view.

You turned around, wanting to look at Paz for guidance. He slid his hands down your back before groping your ass, pulling your cheeks apart. He was unmistakably looking at your pussy and you shifted, feeling exposed under his gaze and in this position. Your movement made him look up, meeting your eyes.

“Don’t look at me,” he said, his hand gently pushing you to turn back, “Look outside.”

Easy to say when he wasn’t the one whose knees would get weak once he started to get going.

“The whole city is awake and yet no one can see us,” he whispered, pushing his cock slowly back inside you. You sighed, resting your cheek against the glass. The cold air and arousal had caused your nipples to harden and you were highly aware of how your tits swung with each movement.

“Stars, imagine all the places I could take you, all the places I could fuck you,” he mused, one hand coming up to cup your tit, his finger and thumb rolling your nipple. You moaned, tilting your head to the side. “I want to have you with me everywhere I go,” he continued, “I don’t want to wake up another day with the knowledge it’ll be weeks before I can see you again.”

“Paz –“

“There we go,” he hummed, pressing a kiss against your shoulder blade, “That turns you on, hm? Knowing there is nothing I wouldn’t do to feel your pussy come around me. I could get us the room with the best view in the whole city everywhere we go,” he pulled on your nipple and you cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure, “And then I would fuck you against that view and still the only thing I would want to look at is you.”

Your heart and your pussy clenched at sheer adoration in his words. “You are so fucking beautiful, love.”

“Paz, please, I –“

“What is it?” he asked you, his voice just on this side of mocking and why did that make him even hotter now, the way he made you feel a little too out of control, “What do you need, sweetheart?

“I need you to come in me.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” he reminded you, his hips not stopping their movement. Instead, his hands tightened on you just the tiniest bit and you whimpered, “You know I am the one who decides when I come in you. And it is only ever after I feel this,” he tapped his fingers on your clit, “tight pussy clamp around my cock.”

“I know, I know, but I,” you trailed off in a whine, pushing your hips back against his to try and work with his rhythm, “Please, Paz, I need it now.”

“Then beg me for it.”

You bit your lip, whimpering when he did not cease his ministrations on your clit. It pushed you even closer to the very edge and you could have cried from frustration. You just needed – You wanted – Why wouldn’t he just –

“That’s what I thought,” he mocked you, kissing your neck, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how shy that little mouth of yours is. You can’t wait to have your pussy stuffed with my fat cock but my innocent little sweetheart cannot even say the word cock. Or come,” he groaned, grinding into you, his fingers tugging on your nipple again, “Or pussy.”

“So, if you want my come before I planned to give it to you,” he breathed against you, “You have to beg for it, love.”

His rough tone made your cheeks burn and your pussy clench. Of course, he had noticed, Paz Vizsla was a ridiculously attentive man and there was a reason he was as successful as he was. You just had not thought that it would turn against you at some point.

“I am waiting,” he teased you, his cock once again hitting that spot that literally made you see stars.

With your hands slipping on the now warm glass and your pussy getting wetter and wetter, you knew there was only so much you could do before you would come.

“Please, Paz,” you cried, “Please come inside me, I need you to come inside me. Please, I – “ you hiccupped, tears stinging your eyes, “I want to feel you come inside my pussy.”

“Fuck, you really are that needy,” he stated, “Who would’ve thought.”

“Please,” you whimpered again, a single tear making its way down your cheek, “Please, Paz, I will do anything you want.”

You could barely stand, trying to keep your hands on the window and your knees from buckling. But that only got harder with each thrust of him inside you. And he was getting closer too. You could feel it in the way his breath hitched, or how his mouth sought out your neck, something he liked to do before he filled you up.

“Hm,” Paz mused, one hand coming up to hold yours against the glass. His entire body pressed against yours, holding you up and making you feel. “Anything, you say? What an enticing offer that I will certainly get back to. But for now, I think you begged prettily enough.”

His words should not have relieved you as much as they did but they did. More tears streamed down your cheeks and you let your head fall, trying to focus on how good you felt, how your entire body tingled with him close and how he.

While one of Paz’s hands stayed on yours, the other arm reached around you and found your clit. “You ready to get filled up?” he asked you, playing with that bundle of nerves, “You want to feel my come inside that tight little pussy. Want me to make you that pretty little mess I know you like to be?”

You nodded eagerly, “Uh huh, p-please, I want that.”

Paz groaned, the sound pure heaven to your ears, and his pace picked up. His thrusts got harder and deeper and ended with him grinding even more into you like he wanted to reach places you did not even know existed. And it made you feel that much better.

“Good girl,” he praised you, “If there is anyone who deserves my come, it is you.”

Clamping your walls around him and trying to move your hips against him, you did your best to make him feel as good as he made you. It was when he got quiet that you knew he was close and not even a moment later, he pulled you straight up, pressing you completely against the glass and him inside you.

You gasped at the cold feeling on your skin, but there was something undeniably erotic about having your tits squeezed up and Paz behind you. He buried his face in your neck, sucking a mark into your shoulder while he ground into you again and again. And it was that feeling of him coming inside you, paired with his fingers still very much circling your clit that made you come around him as well.

And it made you almost black out. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your mouth opened in a silent gasp. You could feel your walls squeeze uncontrollably around him, milking him for all he was worth and you were pretty sure you had lost all control over your limbs. You were just hanging there, mouth open, pussy overflowing and legs trembling with the love of your life right behind you.

“Oh shit,” Paz laughed, feeling you tremble between him and the glass, “It’s a big one, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t really answer but you also knew you did not need to. Because Paz was there to take care of you.

For a little while, he did not move at all, simply letting you ride out your climax while he slowed his strokes over your clit. Time and again you could feel him twitch inside you and you thought to yourself that big one didn’t only apply to you – he had come so much inside you, it was already dripping out around where he was softening inside you.

“You are doing so good for me,” he whispered finally, pressing another kiss to your neck and you turned your head, trying to get him to properly kiss you. And he did, his lips gently landing on yours while he, very carefully, pulled out of you.

The feeling of his come flowing out of you made you grimace and shift on your feet.

“Bathroom?” he asked you quietly and you nodded weakly.

The hotel bathroom was all white marble and had fancy lights and even though Paz only switched on the mirror light, it made you squeeze your eyes shut and whimper. Why was everything so fucking bright?

“Shhh I know I know,” Paz murmured, wrapping his arms around you and leading you to the shower nook, “But I know you will want to clean up, right?”

You nodded against his chest, relishing in his body heat. “Forgot my shower stuff though,” you remembered with a frown.

Your big man chuckled, turning on the rain shower to the perfect temperatures. Not loosening his arms around you, he turned you both so you could tilt your head back and let the water flow over your body. “That is okay, love,” he said, his thumbs gently rubbing circles on your back, “You can use mine.”

The thought of smelling like him made you smile and, feeling a little more like yourself, stood up on your toes to kiss him.

Paz did not wait for a second to reciprocate but you noticed he held back.

“What is it, Paz?” you asked him, running your hand over his wet hair and wondering if he would ever consider leaving it as curly as it was, “Did you not like it?”

He shook his head with a smile. “It was more than I could ever dream of, love,” he smiled, “I was just thinking …”

You tilted your head, watching him consider his words.

“I meant it when I said I want you to accompany me on my travels.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “So you can fuck me everywhere you want?” you joked, trying to hide the very real fear that his feelings did not run as deep as yours did. Sure, you had started your arrangement on quite superficial terms but it had been a long time since anything you felt for him had been superficial.

“No,” he shook his head, “I mean, yes, that too, but … I missed you, sweetheart, a lot and I don’t think I want to spend my time away from you when there is a way that we could be together.”

“I mean we also spend a lot of time together when you are home,” you argued, drumming your fingertips on his chest, “I thought maybe you would like to have some alone time once in a while?”  

“About that …” he rubbed the back of his neck and seeing him made you realize something very fundamental.

You could not contain your smile, leaning a tiny bit back from him to really take in all of him. The way he avoided your gaze, how he shifted on his feet as if he was nervous, how he.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“You can keep your city apartment, of course,” he assured you immediately, “I was just thinking, I mean … I have this big place and Briggs keeps pointing out it is due for some redecorating and I …” he interrupted himself, drops of water falling from the tip of his nose and lashes, “When I am with you and Snowball I feel more at home than anywhere else in the world. And I am wondering if you feel the same way?”

Of course, I feel the same way, you wanted to scream at him, I have been in love with you ever since you asked me to take care of Snowball.

But you remained silent on that front, not wanting to scare him away. Instead, you reached up to pull him closer. His nose brushed yours and the tiny frown between his brows betrayed his insecurity. How rare it was to see Paz Vizsla insecure.

“Yes, Paz,” you smiled against him, kissing him slow and thoroughly, “I would very much like to move in with you.”

The look of complete happiness on his face, when you pulled away, was only echoed on yours. You were sure your grin could only ever be rivalled by his and you squealed when he pulled you up and spun you around, water flying everywhere.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he set you down. His hand found its way to the side of your neck, his thumb and finger spanning your jaw. He did not let you go and his grin faded, replaced by a look on his face you could not quite pinpoint except for how warm it made you feel, “You have no idea how happy you make me.”

“I might have an idea,” you replied shyly, feeling your heart beat against your chest. Was this the moment you could tell him? Was this where you confessed your undying love and revealed just how much you would do to see him happy? How you wanted to wake up with him every morning and fall asleep with him every evening and spend your weekends with him and Snowball curled up on the couch?

But when Paz rested his forehead against yours, you convinced yourself that the moment had passed. Sure, he wanted to move in with you but did that really mean anything? Maybe he just wanted to put another layer of security on your fake relationship arrangement?

“So …” you murmured instead, “How are we going to tell Snowball she is going to move again?”

[whoslaurapalmer]

it's not even like I'm living extravagantly or luxuriously or anything but it's like. well now I have to stare at the ceiling and wonder, can I keep cable television. should I bundle the internet with my phone. should I stop this service. would I save money going forward if I paid for this instead. phone calls I have to make about if I have to open my own accounts. if I rent what are my options? what can I take? I can take This but I can't take That. can I poke holes in the wall and hang clocks and posters and pictures. can I paint. what's available to me. I might be able to keep the house. I might be able to buy. I might have to rent. so little is available on my income. but that's what programs are for and my cousin's wife knows a lot about what my options are and where to start because I don't know where to start!! and she knows what I'd like so she's coming over on Friday to talk about everything

calling people to cancel my mom's upcoming appointments. wondering what I should try and sell or keep. should I return this. can I take that with me. is taking a couple puzzles considered an extravagance. it shouldn't be, BUT. where would I put This. can i take the pile of notebooks where my mom and dad wrote notes for each other to update each other about their day and family stuff because some days they didnt see each other when my dad worked weird hours. i want it because thats a piece of my life and it's them but where do i put it if i move. it's not stuff that has to be decided TODAY it's literally been just two whole entire days. but it's stuff that has to be decided soon. by the end of this month. so basically. now. I should measure things tomorrow. I should think about donating and selling and. everything.

my aunt: okay this is just my opinion but I think the house is too big for you and you'd be living alone

me: ....................I'd be living alone regardless??????

and it really isn't a lot of house. like. I'd rearrange things, I'd paint, I could, make my mom's room into a craft room, she always wanted me to have a craft room!!!!! but do I need a dining room!! and!!!!! I don't know. if I had a smaller space I could maybe have a craft section in a dining room. would I even be able to get something with a dining room. I just want something comfortable with room thats mine where i can sing and my brother can come over and do his laundry and i have space for all my things and i feel okay. but there are certain debts to be paid with the house, if i stayed and if i didnt stay. we have to handle the car too. my cousin's wife said don't rule out any options!! we'll look into it and talk about it!! and I'm glad she's being so helpful and optimistic. and I shouldn't worry about housing in particular until we really talk on Friday. but it's in my mind. of course.

I! am still holding it together okay!! There's a lot to get in order and think about and at least I know where everything is and it's, occupying. but it's also like. yes I'm doing such a good job and I'm proud of me but I'm only doing all this because my mom isn't here. my brother says something funny and I want to tell her. the guy on wheel of fortune tonight solved puzzles so wrong and I wanted to see her face when he solved wrong and hear her laugh. I want to watch dancing with the stars with her tomorrow. we didn't get to finish watching halloween wars and now all the holiday baking has started. she's not gonna find out who killed lester on only murders. I still have to go to the endocrinologist on Thursday, because it's too close to try and reschedule. I have to go to our cardiologist for my annual at the beginning of December and i have to tell him that my mom that he saw for over 30 years and was supposed to have a double appointment with me isn't here anymore. I have to see my eye doctor in January and tell her and I know she's gonna cry. i have to switch my insurance but that's also because my plan's not being offered next year so unrelated but it's another phone call. it's a payment I have to make now. it's a phone call I wanted to make with my mom so she could tell me I was doing it right. I know what questions to ask and everything but. I wanted her there. I still haven't told my sister. my mom didn't want me to say anything to her. and I respect that and I'd never talk to her again, for my own reasons, but I should tell her anyway. but now I'm the one that has the copy of her birth certificate because the little safe of all our important papers is mine now. and I'm only 80% sure she has one, so first i have to ask her boyfriend if she has one for sure. which is like. man what a pain.

but my brother and I watched some episodes of crime scene kitchen together and he really enjoyed it and that made me happy. the christmas episode of andy griffith was on tonight and it made us laugh. I put my mom and dad's wedding photo in my room and it makes me feel safe to look at it. and right now I just have to go to bed. and see what tomorrow looks like. Tuesday when my alarm goes off, the radio station I have it tuned to does one of my favorite segments. my best friend made me the BEST chocolate chip cookies in the whole world and there's still three left for dessert tomorrow. my second cousin posted a picture of like six years ago when her daughter was born and my mom held her and it made me feel all warm inside because I wasn't expecting to see a picture of my mom and she loved holding babies. my brother is still drawing the comic he's been working on. we played super mario wonder today. we really like being able to play a mario game where we're both playing at the same time and my mom was really excited when I told her that the other day. pusheen still exists. I'm here.

[igot-sarang-ggg]

Jolyne's Teacher pt.3 (Teacher reader x Jotaro)

Chapter 3- Coffee

Chapter 2- Panic |Masterlist| Chapter 4- Monday

Small Summary: It's a new school year, you're a third grade teacher at an elementary school in Florida with Jolyne Cujoh being in your class.

It was now Friday, "Alright class see you all on Tuesday. You'll have a sub in on Monday since I have an appointment I can't miss." I really wish I didn't have that appointment, "So, please behave while I'm gone."

"Yes Ms. L/N!" They all shouted, "All right, the bell is about to ring. Grab your things. Those taking the bus can leave once the bell rings." I grabbed my things and waited until the final bell. "Ms. L/n my dad wants to thank you for your help on open house." Jolyne spoke, "You're welcome just be careful and don't do that again, okay." She nodded and smiled, finally, the bell rang. "Have a great weekend guys see you all on Tuesday!"

Exiting the room with the rest of the students I locked the door and headed out with them. As I walked behind them someone tapped my shoulder, "Y/n, you have any plans for the weekend." Ms. Jones asked, "If you don't then we could go out and have a girl's night out. What do you say?" I smiled awkwardly at her, I've never really liked her and neither have the other teachers. "I already have plans for the weekend, sorry."

"With who? Last I checked, you were divorced and weren't seeing anyone." This bitch. "It doesn't concern you who I go out with. Plus, I have an appointment I need to prepare for... So, Enjoy your weekend alone." I gave her a fake smile and continued walking to the car pick-up area and into my car.

Once I got in my car, that's when the tears finally rolled out and I began to cry. Damn it, why would she... There was a knock on the window I quickly wiped away my tears and rolled them down. "Oh, Mr. Cujoh, what a surprise." I tried my best to smile at him but couldn't, "Sorry, didn't know that you were... I just wanted to say hi and I'll call you later today, okay." I simply nodded and we said goodbyes. Closing the window I took a deep breath, tried clearing my head, and headed home. Once I got home I took a shower and started grading some exams from today's test.

Today was a calm day, other than crying in front of Mr. Cujoh I'd say today was a success! It was now 11 pm getting close to midnight, I guess he might have forgotten to call me. I lay in bed getting ready to sleep when my phone rang, "Hello, Y/n speaking."

"Hey, it's Mr. Cujoh," He finally called, "Sorry for calling so late I was finishing up something for work and lost track of time. Is now a good time to talk or do you wanna talk in the morning?... You sound tired... Were you about to sleep?"

I cleared My throat, "No... Well yes, but we can still talk."

"Okay, I won't take up much of your time. We didn't discuss the location we'll be meeting tomorrow morning." I got out of bed, "Give me a moment. I don't know the address by memory." I looked through some draws and found the address to the bakery cafe. "Okay, so the address is..."

"Thank you... Would you like me to pick you up or will we meet there?" I would like for him to take me but I think it's best if we go separate. "We can meet up. Around Ten or eleven. Is that okay?" I put the paper away and sat on my bed. "Around Ten would be fine. I'll get going then, get some rest. See you tomorrow." His voice sounded soft but deep a the same time. "You too, Mr. Cujoh have a great night." I hung up the phone placed it down on my nightstand and stared at it for a moment. Now that I think about it, this would be the first time a parent has offered to take me for coffee to pay for what trouble their kid had caused. Mr. Cujoh seems like a great guy for taking the time to apologize to me this way.

The next morning came I was laying in bed thinking about Monday. I looked at the clock on the wall  I had an hour to get dress to meet with Mr. Cujoh, I got out of bed and headed to the shower. Starting the water I got in the bath and soon felt like someone was watching me. "Y/n, my sweet Y/n." I could feel his arms  wrapped around me and could hear his voice close to my ear, "Why have you forgotten about me? I gave you everything didn't I."

"Leave me alone you're not real. You're dead." 

"That's no way to talk to your first love that way." His hands traveled to my neck. "There was no love between us. Just fear." The voice stopped but I could still feel his presence and his arms wrapped around me. I turned off the water and stepped out the shower and presence was now gone. I sighed wrapping myself in a towel and exiting the bathroom. He still haunts me even after death. I continued getting ready for today

I arrived at the Cafe, went inside and looked around for Mr. Cujoh... To be honest I don't remember much of his facial features due to being in a state of panic because Jolyne was alone at school, so his face is kind of a blur to me. "Excuse, Ms. L/n." Someone tapped my shoulder causing me to jump slightly. I turned around to see Mr. Cujoh... well more like his chest, "Hi Mr. Cujoh. Thanks again for inviting me for coffee." I smiled at him, "Your welcome, its the least I could do."

"Hi, how can I help you?" The cashier called us over. "Yes, I'll have the Cheese cream Pastelitos." I looked at Mr. Cujoh he seemed uncertain about what to order. "If you don't like Coffee they also have soft drinks, tea, and some baked goods too."

"I'll have the same thing as her and add three muffins." The cashier placed our orders and then we waited for them to be done. After it was done we sat down at one of the tables in the back. I took a sip from my drink not knowing what to say to him or how to break this thick ice in the air. "How long have to been teaching?" His question caught me off guard for a moment. "Since I was twenty years old. I taught in Japan for awhile and then moved to Florida." He raised an eyebrow, "You taught in Japan?" I nodded, "Yes for about two years before moving."

"I'm from Japan... born and raised there actually." I smiled slightly, "Same here, but I was only there until the age of thirteen and soon moved to Italy with my... family. My Japanese is a bit rusty." I chuckled, Mr. Cujoh tipped down his hat slightly. "So, tell me. Are you a marine vet or..."

"I'm a marine biologist. I guess you saw the pictures around the house." Before becoming a teacher I wanted to be a Vet and work with animals, "Yeah, I saw a lot of dolphin picture. I'm guessing you like dolphins huh?" I took a sip of my drink. "I do, they're one of my favorite marine animals."

We spent the rest of the morning talking about his work and research his been working on and about Jolynes grades in class. "It was nice getting to know you Mr. Cujoh." I started getting out of my seat when suddenly I felt as if someone was pulling me back, I lost my balance. Mr. Cujoh noticed and tried reaching his hand out to grab me. I closed my eyes waiting for the impact of the cold ground but it never came. Instead I felt something soft, warm, and a bit firm hit my body. "You okay?" I opened my eyes and was met face to face with Mr. Cujoh, "Y-yeah thank you," I took a step back trying not to panic at the sudden closed distance between us. "I must of lost my balance when I stood up, sorry." Looking at him he seemed to be lost in thought, he looked at me and smiled slightly. "No problem, just be careful next time."

 I nodded, "I have to get going I told Annie's parents I would pick up Jolyne at around twelve." I looked at my watch seeing it was now 11:53 pm. "Oh my, you should get going. Thank for the coffee Mr. Cujoh." 

 "Your welcome..." He walked me to my car, "My name's Jotaro by the way."  He took out his hand, "Y/n." I placed my hand on top of his; he firmly grasped my hand and shook it. "I have to get going. It was nice meeting with you y/n." He gently let go of my hand, "You too Jotaro." And with that he entered his car and drove off.

Series Masterlist

[all-the-things-2020]

Late Night Talking - Chapter Eight

Summary: Em had a rough day at work. Dieter makes her feel better.

Rating: PG-13 (nothing graphic, Em is still shy about writing explicit details about her relationship, lol)

Word Count: 4800+

Tag list: @rhoorl @avastrasposts @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @gwendibleywrites

Dieter insisted on driving himself home after the accident. He called me when he got there, complaining about what a pain in the ass the drive had been. The butt jokes continued throughout the week, accompanied by a few photos of the stitches to prove that he was healing up. 

“Dieter, I have enough pictures of your ass,” I told him on Thursday. “Besides, I’m going to see it in person tomorrow night.”

”You can never have enough pictures of my ass,” he replied. “Which, by the way, is looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

Friday morning I put my overnight bag into the trunk of my car. I was going to drive straight from work to Dieter’s place, since I would be back tracking if I went home first. Fridays are always long, but that one felt like an eternity. We were busy, but the beginning of school rush was starting to die down and I had pockets of downtime when my mind was able to wander. And it wandered toward Dieter.

Traffic was horrendous, of course, but I managed to get to Dieter’s house after only a two hour drive. He greeted me at the door wearing a pair of baggy pajama pants and an old Pac Sun t shirt. He was barefoot.

”Nice look,” I said as he wrapped me in his arms.

”I’m an invalid,” he said. “These are my sick clothes.”

”You’ve been to four meetings and a doctor’s appointment this week. You aren’t an invalid.”

He pouted. “But my butt hurts, baby.”

I tried to keep a straight face but it was impossible. Pouting Dieter always makes me laugh. 

We spent a quiet weekend, watching movies and making out on the couch. Dieter couldn’t go in the pool because of the stitches, which made him a bit grumpy, but otherwise it was the romantic weekend we’d attempted to have the previous week.

”I’m out of town all next week,” he said Sunday morning as we lazed in bed.

”Yeah, I know.” I laid my head on his broad chest and he stroked my hair. 

“Won’t be back in L.A. until Saturday night, so I guess we won’t see each other next weekend.” His hand played with my earlobe.

”It’s okay,” I said. “We’ll FaceTime.”

”Not the same,” he said, nibbling on my neck.

I sighed. “No, it’s not, but we’ll see each other the weekend after. You’re driving out, right?”

”If I can,” he said. “No, yeah, definitely. I’ve got a bunch of meetings and shit for the press tour that week but I will make sure I get out there on Friday. Play the entitlement card. ‘I’m Dieter Fucking Bravo. I make my own rules.’”

”Just don’t piss off anybody important,” I said. “I understand if your work messes with our plans. Work has to come first unless it’s an emergency. That’s what my parents always said.”

”Fuck that,” Dieter said vehemently. “People come first. Relationships come first. Work … work is important, but it’s not everything.”

”Okay,” I said carefully. I’d touched a nerve and didn’t want to probe it too much right then. “But I do understand that you have to do stuff for work. So do I.”

He mumbled something I didn’t catch and then distracted me by sliding one hand between my legs while he kissed my collarbone and I stopped thinking rationally for a while.

**************************************************************

[Text message conversation between Dieter and his publicist]

CARMEN: So, I need to know something.

DIETER: What?

C: There’s a weird rumor floating around and I need the truth.

D: Shit, now what?

C: I’ve heard two versions. One is you were injured “in bed” and needed stitches in your backside. The other is you had a fight with your girlfriend, broke some glass and she pushed you onto it, also requiring stitches.

D: Fuck. I did get hurt at Em’s but it wasn’t in bed and we didn’t have a fight. I fell off the fucking bed trying to reach the smoke alarm to change the battery and I broke a lamp. I landed on it and cut my ass cheek. That doctor promised he wouldn’t say anything to anybody.

C: I don’t think it was the doc. This isn’t coming from the public gossip sites; it’s word of mouth rumors in the industry.

D: Probably someone at my agent’s office. I was telling him the story because I had to reschedule a meeting so I could go get the stitches out. So what do we have to do?

C: Nothing. If either rumor breaks containment, we put out a statement clearing things up. Tell what really happened. If not, we ignore it.

D: Does Em know?

C: I haven’t said anything to her. Figured that’s your job.

***************************************************************

“People are saying what?” I was driving home from work when Dieter called and almost swerved off the road.

”One version is you were pegging me and ripped my butthole,” he said. “The other is we had a big fight, I broke some glass, then you pushed me down on it.”

”But … who would believe any of that?”

”Dumbass people,” he said with a sigh. “The shitheads at the gossip websites who would say anything for clicks. Look, I know this is ridiculous, but Carmen has it under control. If anything makes the mainstream, she’ll issue a statement.”

”Holy shit, what if my aunt hears any of this?” My mother’s sister was one of those stick-up-her-bum church lady types, mostly because she’d converted in her early twenties. Converts were the worst. I loved her dearly, but we did not see eye to eye on most aspects of my personal life. She’d already made it very clear to me that she thought I was sinning by engaging in premarital sex.

”It won’t get that far,” Dieter said. “I’ll tell Carmen to get out ahead of it. Get a statement out to the gossip rags. Let them know we’ll sue if they say anything that contradicts it.”

I was almost home. “Deet, how the hell do you live like this?”

”Everyone has rumors told about them,” he said. “I’ll bet your co-workers talk shit about you.”

I had to admit he was probably right. It wasn’t just students who were stuck in the high school paradigm. Any time you trapped a group of people in one place for hours and hours each day, they did what humans had been doing for millennia: they talked. The rumor mill was alive and well on campus, although as adults we were more circumspect than the kids were. 

“I still don’t like it,” I said, pulling up in front of my condo. 

”Nobody likes it, babe,” he said. “It’s one of the prices you pay for fame. And big paychecks.” He sighed. “I need to get back on set. I’ll see you next weekend.”

”See you then,” I said. I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying “I love you.” It was a little bit silly, but I had vowed that I wouldn’t say it until Dieter did. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself.

******************************************************************

It had been a shitty day. We’d gotten a delivery of over two hundred boxes of math textbooks. Each box held six books and we needed to get them all unpacked, stamped, barcoded and out to students ASAP. The books had been ordered on time and should have arrived in the summer when there had actually been time to process them, but the publisher had screwed up on the first print run and they ended up backordered. I’d been unpacking boxes and stacking books on carts all day and my back was killing me. This work was usually done by volunteers and kids needing community service hours for graduation, but with the kids all in class, it fell to me and the textbook clerk, along with a couple of helpers loaned to us from the front office. All I wanted to do when I got home was take a hot shower, pop a handful of ibuprofen and crash on the couch with my shiatsu massager.

Things weren’t going to be easy until we got the job done, but at least I didn’t have to drive to Hollywood that weekend; it was Dieter’s turn to drive out to my place. I kept telling myself, You just have to make it through two more days.

As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed two things. First of all, Dieter’s bright red Audi was parked in front of my condo. Second of all, Dieter himself was sitting on my front step, reading a book and drinking what looked like a tall glass of my neighbor Mrs. Gutiérrez’s iced tea.

I climbed out of the car. “What are you doing here?”

“My meeting tomorrow got cancelled and I’m free for the rest of the week, so I thought I’d come out early, since I didn’t get to see you last weekend,” he said, setting down his book and glass. He stood up to hug me but I cringed when he did. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, we had a billion books to unpack today and my back is killing me,” I told him. “You should have called me before you drove all this way. I’m not going to be very good company.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” he said. “Of course, I was halfway here when I realized I was going to get here way before you got home.” He scratched at the back of his ball cap. “Your neighbor was worried about me. She brought me some iced tea so I wouldn’t get too hot.” 

I looked next door and saw Mrs. Gutiérrez peeking out her front window. I waved at her and she gave me a thumbs up. “I need to get you a key,” I said without thinking. Even though we spent the weekend at each other’s homes, we hadn’t exchanged keys yet. It was the next step in our relationship and here I’d jumped into it without discussing it with him.

He smiled. “That would be nice,” he said softly. “We can get a copy of my keys for you while we’re at it.”

I felt my face flush. We’d been dating for almost three months at that point, and I knew he was in it for the long haul, but I still felt a little giddy every time we took a step toward more intimacy, more permanency. And those three little words still loomed unsaid.

“Let’s get inside,” I said. I fumbled with my keys and dropped them. As soon as I started to bend down to pick them up, I knew I’d made a mistake. “Ugh,” I groaned. “Can … can you get those for me?”

He reached down and swept the keys up, his free hand going immediately to my back. He rubbed it as he put the key in the lock. “You really did a number on your back, didn’t you, babe?,” he said, frowning. 

“Yeah,” I admitted. He took my bag from me and ushered me carefully into the house. “Look, all I want to do is eat something, take a mega dose of ibuprofen, and collapse on the couch with my back massager. You don’t have to stay. It’s not like I’m going to be much fun.”

He looked at me as if I was an idiot. “First of all, I’m not driving all the way back to Hollywood just to turn around and drive back the day after tomorrow,” he said. He pushed me gently down onto the couch and sat beside me. “Second of all, I’m not leaving you alone if you’re in pain. And third of all, I’m here to see you, not have fun.”

I raised my eyebrow and he immediately shook his head. “That didn’t come out quite right, but you know what I mean,” he said, sliding his arm around my shoulder and playing with my hair. “Let me take care of you, okay?” He pressed a kiss against my cheek and I relented, laying my head on his shoulder. 

“Okay, but there’s not much you can do except keep me company,” I said.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “I know about back pain, believe me.”

After making me promise not to move a muscle, he left me on the couch to flip through the channels looking for something to watch (I didn’t have all the streaming services he did, just basic cable, which drove him nuts) while he heated up some leftover pasta I had in my fridge. We ate on the couch, watching reruns of “M*A*S*H”. 

When we were finished, I tried to help him take the dirty plates into the kitchen but my back had stiffened up enough that I only got about two inches off the couch before I froze. “Oh, oh, ouch, ouch,” I whimpered. Dieter pushed me gently back down.

“I got it,” he said, kissing me on the forehead. He took the dishes into the kitchen and detoured to the bathroom to fetch the bottle of ibuprofen. “I didn’t know it came in such big bottles,” he said when he came back. 

“Costco,” I said. “And if you were a woman, you’d buy the industrial size bottle, too.” I opened the top, shook out four pills and popped them in my mouth. “I live on this  stuff one week a month.”

“Okay, time to get you in the shower,” Dieter said. “Some hot water will loosen those muscles a bit.”

He helped me stand up and I headed — slowly — toward the bathroom. “Let me know if you need any help, okay?,” he said.

“I’m fine,” I said, brushing him off. “I’ve been taking showers for years.” 

I closed the door on him, and turned on the water to give it a chance to heat up before I got in. The moment I stepped into the shower and the hot water hit my back, I let out a little moan. Standing up hurt but the hot water felt incredibly good. I stood with my back to the showerhead, letting the water hit my lower back. I slowly bent forward, gently stretching the muscles as the heat loosened them up a bit.

I’d been in there for about fifteen minutes when there was a knock on the bathroom door. “How’re you doing in there?”

“I’m fine,” I called out. “Just enjoying the hot water.” The door opened and Dieter stepped in. “What are you doing?” My instinct was to cover myself but all I had handy was a washcloth, which wasn’t going to do much good.

“Oh, please,” he scoffed. “I just wanted to ask if you have any massage oils.”

“Um, no,” I said. We had the shower curtain between us, but it was fairly sheer and it felt very awkward, especially since Dieter was making no effort to avert his eyes.

“Hmm, okay, I’ll see what you have in the kitchen,” he said, turned around and left. I stayed in the shower a few more minutes, then turned the water off, got out, and wrapped myself in a towel.

The door opened again and Dieter whisked me into the bedroom. The bed was turned down and the new lamp on the nightstand was on its lowest setting. Relaxing music was playing on the speaker on my dresser. “Um, sweetie,” I said, “I told you I wasn’t up for much.”

He shook his head. “I know,” he said. “I’m going to give you a massage.” He gestured toward the bed. “Take off that towel and lay face down with your head on the pillows.”

“You just want to look at my ass,” I joked as I followed his directions.

He smacked me lightly on the butt.  “Behave yourself,” he said, climbing onto the bed behind me. He straddled my legs and started lightly prodding my back. “Where does it hurt? Here? Here?” Once he had a good idea of the extent of the affected area, he got up. “Okay, all I could find was olive oil, so if you smell like a salad when we’re done, I’m sorry.” I heard him pour some oil out and rub his hands together to warm it up. 

The bed dipped under his weight again as he resumed his position. His broad hands began to stroke up and down my lower back, his thumbs digging in now and then to work out the tension in the muscles. The oil let his hands glide over my skin and it felt absolutely delicious. “Oh, yeah,” I groaned. “That feels amazing.”

He chuckled. “I like to hear that,” he said. I felt his weight shift as he leaned forward to kiss my shoulder. Then he sat back and continued working on my sore muscles. Soon I was melting into the mattress and I barely noticed when Dieter climbed off the bed, pressing one last kiss to my shoulder. “Get some sleep, babe,” he said softly.

The next thing I knew, my alarm was going off the next morning. Dieter grunted beside me. “What the hell?”

I slapped the alarm clock to stop the annoying beep. “Go back to sleep,” I told him. “I need to get ready for work.” I started to crawl out of bed but he pulled me back. 

“Call in sick,” he said. “Stay with me.”

“I can’t,” I said, although I was very tempted. My back felt a lot better but it was still a bit stiff. “We have a shit ton of work to do and if I don’t go in, they won’t get a sub to cover for me.” I kissed his forehead and went into the bathroom to start getting ready for work.

Dieter was sound asleep by the time I came out, and I got dressed to the sound of his quiet snores. Before I left, I scribbled a note, which I left on the kitchen table beside my house keys.

“Thanks again for last night. I feel so much better! Leaving my keys so you can go out if you need to, lol. See you when I get home. XOXOXO”

I locked the door from the inside, pulled it shut and headed off for another long day at work.

**********************************

Work was better than the day before, partly because we’d finished most of the heavy lifting already, but mostly because I knew Dieter would be waiting for me at home when I got done. My co-workers made a few comments about what a good mood I seemed to be in, but I didn’t take the bait. It was enough to know he’d be there when I came home; I didn’t need to brag about it.

It felt weird to knock on my own front door when I got home. Dieter opened it a tiny crack. “What’s the password?,” he said, squinting warily at me. 

“Open the damn door,” I said.

“Correct,” he said, opening the door and letting me in. He led me to the couch, where there was a glass of wine waiting for me. As I sat down, he slipped my shoes off and pulled my feet into his lap, massaging them gently. 

“Oh, my,” I said. “What did I do to deserve this treatment?” 

He shrugged. “I just thought you’d probably had a rough day at work again, and I enjoyed taking care of you yesterday.” He dropped my feet and pulled me in for a kiss. “Besides, it was kind of nice playing house husband today.” He winked at me and got up from the couch.

“I changed the sheets on the bed, ran a few errands, and I’m actually cooking dinner,” he said. He came back with a set of keys in his hand. “Here are your house keys back,” he said, dangling them in front of me, “and I added a set to my place.” He dropped the keys into my hand. Two brand new keys were next to my slightly worn ones. I fingered them gently.

“I got copies of yours for me,” he said. “Hope you don’t mind, but you did say I needed them …”

“No, no, thank you,” I said. So it was official. We had full access to each other's homes. I felt a weird fluttery feeling in my stomach and I grabbed his hand, pulling in in to press a kiss to his palm. 

He dropped back onto the couch beside me, humming happily. He caressed my face before leaning in for a lingering kiss. “As much as I enjoy this,” he said when he came up for air, “I need to check on dinner.” He stood up and headed for the kitchen. I picked up my wine glass and followed him. This I had to see.

He was opening the oven to check on whatever was inside, and I caught a glimpse of a plastic tray. “Aha!” I said. “You bought that.”

“Well, yeah,” he said. “I said I was cooking dinner, not that I made dinner. There’s a semantic difference.” He poured himself a glass of wine and took a drink. “Now get out of the way, because I need to cut up some veggies for the salad.” He pulled several bags out of the fridge and plopped them on the counter. “Do you have a cutting board?”

I pointed at one of the lower cupboards and then stepped back, leaning against the end of the counter to watch. He found the cutting board, selected a knife from the wooden block on the counter and started to work. “Stop watching me,” he said after a few minutes. “I keep waiting for you to tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” I said. “I just enjoy seeing this domestic side of you.” He made a face and flipped me off. I shrugged. “You’re the one who said you liked playing house husband.”

He laughed. “Okay, I deserved that,” he admitted. “Now go sit down and wait for me to call you to the table.” He pointed at me with the knife.

I retired to the living room to finish my wine and flip through my mail (which Dieter had helpfully brought in and placed on the coffee table). Nothing of real interest except a 20% off coupon for Kohl’s and a catalog from Daedelus Books. I sat those aside and tossed the rest in my “stuff to be shredded” basket, which was starting to get a bit full. I made a mental note to work on that soon.

I settled back to thumb through the catalog as I sipped my wine and before I knew it, Dieter was in the doorway. “Dinner’s ready, honey!,” he said. He was wearing a stupid frilly apron I kept in a drawer; my aunt had given it to me one year for Christmas and I’d kept it to wear on the rare occasions when I baked.

“You look ridiculous,” I said, giggling. 

He spun around. “You like it? I found it in the drawer when I was looking for a pot holder to get the lasagna out of the oven with.” 

“It’s you,” I said. “But please, take it off, or I won’t be able to eat for laughing.”

He grumbled something about slaving away over a hot stove all day and not getting any respect as he untied the apron, balled it up and tossed it back into the kitchen. Then he pulled my chair out for me and we sat down to eat. Veggie lasagna; a huge salad full of cucumbers, radishes, grape tomatoes, and feta cheese; and a crusty loaf of Italian bread with herbed olive oil for dipping.

“This … this is amazing,” I said, looking around at the food, the wine, the fact that he’d actually gone through my mismatched cutlery drawer and made sure our knives and forks were all the same pattern.

He shrugged. “Like I said, I had fun today.” He pointed at me with his fork. “Just don’t expect this all the time, okay?”

After dinner, he put away the leftovers. “See, I planned ahead,” he told me. “This way we have dinner for tomorrow night all squared away.” He tapped his finger against the side of his head. When he came back out, he had a big bowl of mixed berries and a can of whipped cream.

“Is that dessert or do you have something weird planned for the bedroom?” I teased. 

“Both, if you’re lucky,” he said. He sat the bowl down, took the cap off the whipped cream and squirted a dollop on his finger, then dabbed it on the tip of my nose. He sat the can down in front of me and went back into the kitchen. He came back with two slices of pound cake on saucers. “And you thought I was being kinky,” he said, shaking his head. Then he leaned down and licked the melting whipped cream off my nose.

*****************************

The next morning, Dieter barely stirred when the alarm went off. I slipped out of bed, got dressed and headed off to work, leaving him another note on the table.

“Can’t wait to see what you have planned for tonight. XOXOXO”

Work dragged on and on, as Fridays were wont to do, and of course I got a last minute phone call that kept me a few minutes past quitting time. Finally, I was free for the weekend and hurried home, only to find Dieter’s car gone. Instantly, my heart sank and I chided myself. If he’d had to leave, he would have texted or called me and I had no messages. He must have run to the store or something and just wasn’t back yet.

I went inside, flipped through the mail and poured myself a glass of wine. As I was leaving the kitchen, I heard a key in the lock and the door opened. “Hi, honey, I’m home!” Dieter called out in a cheesy sitcom voice.

“That was supposed to be my line,” I said. 

He had a bag in his hand, which he dropped on the coffee table. “I had to drive further than I thought I would,” he said. He opened the bag and pulled out a bottle. “Actual massage oil,” he said. “So you won’t smell like a salad this time.”

“This time?”

He grinned. “You wanted to know what I had planned for tonight,” he said. “I thought you might like a full body massage.”

“Only if I can return the favor,” I said, taking the bottle from him. “Mmm, lavender and sweet almond oil. That sounds amazing.” I opened the cap and took a sniff. I felt myself relax instantly.

“I’ll give you a massage tonight and you can give me one tomorrow,” he said. “But only if I get a ‘happy ending’.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“You are disgusting,” I said. “But don’t worry, you will.” I handed the bottle back to him. “You’ve taken such good care of me, I’m going to spend the weekend taking care of you.” I took his face in my hands and kissed him greedily. I’d been waiting for this moment all day. 

“I’m glad you said that,” Dieter said when we came up for air. “Because I have an idea …”

***************************************************************

I was nervous. Dieter’s idea has sounded good but now that it was time for me to roll over onto my back I wasn’t so sure. Things had started out as a normal massage, just like the night before, but now it was time for the “happy ending” he’d envisioned. The rules were simple: the one being massaged had to simply lie back and enjoy; the one doing the massaging was only able to use their hands (and mouth) to pleasure the other. This meant that I would be completely exposed to Dieter’s view, something that I had mostly avoided so far.

I wasn’t exactly ashamed of my body, but I was self conscious about it. I was an average middle aged woman. Things sagged and bulged after decades of dealing with gravity, I knew that. But Dieter worked in Hollywood. He was surrounded by perfect bodies all the time. 

“Can we turn off the lights?” I suggested when Dieter prodded me to flip over.

”Of course not,” he said. “I have to see what I’m doing.” He flopped down next to me. “I want to see what I’m doing,” he added quietly. He brushed a lock of hair away from my face. “I think you’re beautiful.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re just saying that because you’re horny.”

”First of all, even if I am horny, I’m not getting any tonight because of the rules of the game,” he said. “So let me enjoy what I can. And second of all, looking at you is enjoyable. Thinking about you is enjoyable. Touching you is enjoyable.” He smiled a crooked smile. “Watching you cry out my name is enjoyable. And third of all …” He kissed me deeply. When I was discombobulated enough, he flipped me over onto my back. “That’s better,” he said. Then he proceeded to play the game exceedingly well.

So well that we both won. Three times.

[thefrontofmymind]

Proof Positive 3

a/n: wtf??? i'm updating something 2 days in a row?? this is so unlike me

series masterlist

The morning after, you got out of bed around the time you always did and you got ready for work. With a gentle whisper to a half-awake Ross that you were leaving, you were out the door. 

You tried not to think about it, you hid it in a cupboard in your mind but that didn’t mean it was banging on the locked door. It must’ve been expectant mothers day on the tube because you counted no less than five pregnant women sitting in your carriage. Well, six, actually.

You kept laser focus on your work all day, even through the nausea and exhaustion. It wasn’t until you looked at your schedule did you realise that the tour that you’d been painstakingly organising every little detail of would begin in a mere two weeks. Ross would be leaving in two weeks. Twelve days to be exact. It gave you a jolt; you needed to act, and quickly. You booked an appointment with your GP for the day after tomorrow. You googled what to do, what to say to her, what she’ll say to you. You wanted as much control as you could get.

She would probably ask for either a blood test or a urine sample and she would test you herself. And then she would explain all the options you had. You knew it was early days, it was still an embryo, it didn’t even have a heart, it’d barely grown a brain. It had no thoughts and no pain receptors, it made you feel a little better. It wasn’t a baby yet.

You got a text from Ross at around 4 PM, ‘had to go back to mine to get some clothes, youre free to come over?’. You typed out a quick reply, ‘sounds good. see you soon xx’.

You placed your phone onto your desk and finished writing an email to some venue manager who had questions about the band’s rider. Another ping erupted from your phone, you took a quick glance at the new message from Ross; ‘how are you feeling?’, you didn’t know how you felt, so you didn’t answer.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

As you entered Ross’ flat, using the key he gave you a year ago when he moved in, you heard…talking. More than one person. In the living room was Ross, along with Adam and Carly. Like a switch that flipped, you were bright and happy–you couldn’t let them know what was happening.

A chorus of surprised greetings, questions on why you’ve shown up at Ross’ flat.

“She just can’t resist my cooking…” Ross joked. You didn’t fail to notice the inflection he had, you just prayed that Carly and Adam missed it.

There was some chatter between the boys–something technical with a song they were in the process of recording–and between you and Carly. You were telling her all about the tour, you could pretty much whip up any detail for the next ten months from the top of your head. And she had many questions about where her fiance was going, and when. You got to thinking…There was very well the possibility that things regarding the tour would have to change. In about eight months or so yours and Ross’ lives could change drastically. 

Ross slowly made his way to the kitchen, prepping ingredients for a stir fry. The couple got the hint, making a polite exit and telling you both to enjoy yourselves–whatever that meant.

You silently watched Ross cooking, sipping on the glass of squash you made yourself. He kept stealing glances at you, you pretended to be oblivious.

It felt like your bubble burst. The bliss you felt, this honeymoon stage, it was all over. Everything had been so natural before–the kisses, the casual touches, the pillowtalk–but now it was all just so forced. 

You picked at the food on your plate, you didn’t want to tell him the smell of it made you nauseous. You told him about your day at work, how the final plans for the tour were going.

“So we’re just not talking about it?” He asked after yet another story from you about a rude venue manager or a misunderstanding with your travel agent over the band and crew’s visas.

“I made a doctor’s appointment for Friday…she’ll tell me if it’s…real,” you answered.

“You wanna go alone?”

“You wanna come with me?” It was a genuine question.

“I told you I’m here for you,” he said. “However you want me, I’ll be there.”

You were looking right into his eyes, and he was looking in yours. At the unwavering eye contact you were comforted, you knew there was a shred of falsehood in his words.

“It’s at three in the afternoon…” You told him. “You could meet me there?”

“I’ll pick you up from the office.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The waiting room smelled like bleach. Like the linoleum floors had been scrubbed recently. The loudest sound was emitting from the small TV anchored to the wall in front of you and Ross–some daytime soap opera with characters you couldn’t understand the relations of, no matter how hard you tried.

Sitting across from you was a young guy, probably around 25 or so, cradling a little girl who was drifting in and out of sleep. She was tiny, a toddler still with the chunky limbs of a baby, and a mess atop her head of golden ringlets that probably hadn’t been brushed that day.

As the doctor called your name, you immediately jumped up. You didn’t see the large form next to you rise with you.

“Do you want me…” Ross trailed off from his seat, gesturing towards the corridor you were about to walk down.

“Please.”

Once you and Ross sat down in her office and got comfortable, she began to speak in a light and friendly tone. “So what brings you in?”

“Well…” you started. “I…my period was late so I took one of those early detection tests and it was positive.”

“A pregnancy test?”

You nodded.

“Okay.” She began to type out some notes on her computer. “Is your cycle regular?”

“To a tee, I’ve never been even a day late before.”

“So how many days?”

“Four.”

“And how long has it been since your last period?”

You thought for a second. “About a month?”

“Right.” She finished typing and turned back towards you. “I’ll get you to do a test here if that’s alright. I’m guessing this is the…father?”

“Yes, right, this is Ross,” you said. They exchanged a polite greeting.

The doctor handed you a small plastic jar. “Bathroom is just down to the left, you can’t miss it.”

About 10 minutes later the results were ready. Instinctively you grabbed Ross’ hand as your doctor looked at the much more clinical looking test. 

“Two lines…which means it’s positive,” she said. Your brain began to tick into overtime, it was like time slowed almost to a stop.

In that moment, knowing it was real, you felt a sense of comfort. You didn’t know how, but somehow you got the sense that you could do it, and it would all be alright, you could make it work. A warmth spread through your abdomen–though that was just your mind. You became aware of the hand you were holding in a vice-like grip. Ross was with you, you wouldn’t be alone, you could very well have a family with the man next to you. You could be there for each other through all this, you were a team.

“Oh my god…” was all you could say, a soft smile spreading across your face. You looked at Ross, mirroring your smile.

“I should talk to you about options,” your doctor said after a minute of letting you bask in the happiness.

“I want to keep it,” you said instantly.

You smiled at Ross again, he raised his eyebrows–silently asking “really?”–you nodded.

“Well then,” she laughed. “I’ll give you the name of a good OB, he’s the one who delivered my two girls…” She was messily writing on a notepad. “And this is a good brand of prenatal vitamins.” She opened a drawer of her desk and retrieved a pamphlet. “And here’s just some guidelines for the early stages, what not to eat, symptoms you might have, all that.”

“Thanks,” you said after she handed you the bundle of information.

“I’d suggest booking within the next week, you might just be far enough along for a proper ultrasound.”

You didn’t say another word until you were out of the building and walking to the closest tube station, to the line that would take you right to Ross’. “A baby…”

“I know,” he chuckled.

“Are you okay with this all? Sorry…I didn’t know what my answer would be in there…”

“Listen to me.” He stopped walking, taking your hand in both of his and fiddling with your fingers. “There is no one else I would rather do this with.”

“Out of everyone in the entire world?” You laughed.

“No one else.”

“Not even Waugh?”

“Don’t tell him that I pick you…” He said in a hushed tone, to which you couldn’t help burst out laughing.

You couldn’t describe the joy you were feeling. The bubble of bliss was back for you both.

That night you slept easy, in the arms of the father of your baby, the three of you together–at least for now.

[beeeinyourbonnet]

Covetous | Chapter 17

Pairing: Nostelle 

Summary: Father Joseph MacAvoy wakes up in a library across town with no idea of how he got there. When the kind librarian doesn’t kick him out immediately, he considers that maybe there’s more to life than alcohol.

[chapter 1] [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [chapter 4] [chapter 5] [chapter 6] [chapter 7] [chapter 8] [chapter 9] [chapter 10] [chapter 11] [chapter 12] [chapter 13] [chapter 14] [chapter 15] [chapter 16]

[read on ao3]

-----------------------------------

Friday couldn’t come fast enough. Belle spent the week planning crafts and ordering supplies, grateful she’d have two extra hands to put to work the day before their storybook crafting weekend. 

Kaz had come around the same time every day to have a snack and nap through a movie. Unfortunately, Coach Gaston had also come every day, and it didn’t matter what Belle said, he did not seem to take a hint.

“Do you wear perfume?” he asked on Wednesday.

“Yes,” she said.

“Did John get it for you?”

“It’s Joe.”

“Joe, right, sorry.”

She tried to keep him at arm’s length, but on Thursday, he caught her dragging boxes of supplies into a reading room and was helping her before she could even deny his offer. When he followed her into the room, she realized he was muscular enough to block the whole doorway, trapping her in with him.

He set his box on the table with a dramatic grunt, like he hadn’t just seen her do the same. 

“Why don’t you let me carry the rest of these in?” he asked.

“I appreciate your help, but I can handle it.”

“Come on.” He leaned on the frame, and watching him from where she was caged in, she understood why Kaz disappeared any time he came into view. She had read him the second she’d seen him, and Belle wished she’d done the same.

“It’s not much left, Clive.”

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” He folded his arms like he was settling in to stand there awhile. “And then you can thank me by having a drink with me.”

“I don’t want to have a drink with you,” she said. “Please leave.”

“Leave? Come on, I’ll carry more boxes.”

She didn’t think he’d let her leave the room if she didn’t at least let him carry boxes, so she agreed, making sure never to go in first, and then somehow, she found herself trapped at her desk again, but that was a much safer trap.

“When do you get off? We can go grab that drink.”

“Clive, it was really nice of you to help, but I don’t want to have a drink with you.”

He leaned forward. “How about coffee?”

Was he ever going to let up? “I don’t have time tonight,” she said. “I have a hair appointment.”

He left after that with a promise that she’d have that drink with him sometime, and she wanted to cry. If only the library had a security person, she could have barred him, but they barely had funding for electricity much less a whole extra employee.

When she called Nosty to see how his appointment had gone, she wanted to tell him about Clive, but just like it had all week, something stopped her. A small piece of her felt like it was her fault Clive wouldn’t leave her alone and that Nosty would blame her and be right.

She was glad she’d be seeing him in person tomorrow. She’d feel better then.

****

MacAvoy spent half an hour digging up Belle’s old bus instructions, but it turned out Nosty didn’t need them. He could get anywhere in the city without even consulting a map, and against his will, this impressed MacAvoy.

They rode the buses in silence, MacAvoy sitting while Nosty stood next to him, holding the bar above his head in one hand and a paperback in the other.

It had been almost two weeks since he’d sat with Belle in the library, and his heart leapt at the opportunity to do it again. Even Nosty’s presence couldn’t dampen his excitement. 

As they walked up—finally—MacAvoy waved to the man Belle brought coffee to every morning, promising to come back and chat in a bit, but Nosty barely spared him a glance as he stalked toward the library doors. MacAvoy hurried after.

When they burst in, Belle was nowhere to be found, and Nosty paused. Even though this surprised MacAvoy as well, he was glad to see Nosty thrown for a loop for once. 

Then, Belle popped up from behind a tri-fold poster board with a cheerful, “Hello!”

For the first time since the call from the constabulary weeks ago, MacAvoy’s muscles eased. At Belle’s side in this library was a place he belonged as much as he belonged on a pulpit. 

“What you doing?” Nosty strode over and MacAvoy trailed after him like a duckling.

“Making some signs for tomorrow. I’m glad you’re both here.” She capped a marker and then strode around the table, taking each of them by an arm. 

“Are we gonna be glad we’re here?” Nosty asked, and MacAvoy kept quiet. Whatever Belle asked him to do, he would do without comment. 

“If keeping me from losing my mind makes you glad, then yes.” 

Nosty grunted, and MacAvoy wanted to smirk at having this upper hand, but then he saw the two of them making doe eyes at one another, and he guessed he was losing that round as well.

Belle sat them at two tables pushed together with six cardboard boxes lined up. The first one MacAvoy peeked into had boxes and boxes of crayons. 

“We’re making little kits, so grab a bag out of this box and put one thing from all the other boxes in it.” Belle plucked out a mesh drawstring bag to demonstrate, and placed in a name tag sticker, a box of crayons, a sheet of colored star stickers, a tube of glitter glue, and a small chocolate. 

“Do the different bag colors matter?” Nosty asked.

“They will for me, but not for you.” She dropped her example on the table. “Oh, and whenever you’re ready, I have something for you in my office.”

MacAvoy tried to scrutinize Nosty’s reaction to this as well as Belle’s expression to see if this was some sort of code for sex, but Nosty seemed to know what it was already, and all he did was thank her. 

“All right, I’ll be over there making signs.” She squeezed each of them on the arm at the same time and then rushed off.

Not wanting to be overshadowed, MacAvoy snatched up the first bag and got to work.

“It’s not a contest, you don’t have to race me, Jesus Christ.” Nosty spoke softly enough that Belle didn’t hear, and MacAvoy’s neck tensed. He was so sneaky when he was being rude. 

“I’m just trying to help Belle,” he said. 

Nosty rolled his eyes, but the two of them worked in silence for almost an hour before MacAvoy scraped the bottom of the first cardboard box with his fingers. 

After that, Belle tasked Nosty with sorting supplies and MacAvoy with manning the desk while she conducted story time for children under three and their parents. MacAvoy couldn’t quite see Belle from the desk, but that was okay because he could see Nosty. He had set himself up at a table where he could watch her through the shelves, and he made a cursory effort to sort things into piles, but mostly, he watched Belle. 

MacAvoy had now spent time alone with Nosty, time alone with Belle, and time alone with Nosty and Belle, but he had never seen anything like the naked adoration on Nosty’s face as he watched Belle work. Did he always look like that when he came to the library? Was it memories like these, memories of Belle in her element reading stories to babies, that kept Nosty going on the cold, unforgiving streets?

****

It had been two weeks since he’d last checked a book in or out, and he had never been great at it anyway, so the handful of patrons that came to the desk took up way more of his Nosty-watching time than he’d have liked. Storytime was wrapping up by the time the last woman left, and MacAvoy only got one glimpse of Nosty before he dedicated himself to sorting—presumably to pretend he’d been focused on it all along.

The storytime crowd dispersed, some to play in the little play area in the corner, some to look at books, and some to leave. Belle checked on each of them before stopping at Nosty, and even though MacAvoy knew it was fruitless, he strained to hear what she said to him.

Whatever it was, Nosty snapped to look at the door, then Belle rubbed his arm and he settled. She said something else and he cracked a grin, then she squeezed his arm and left him for the circulation desk.

“Any troubles?” she asked.

He shook his head. “It went as smoothly as it could, all things considered. How was story time?”

“Perfect.” 

He vacated her chair, then stood next to it, trying not to wring his hands quite so obviously. “Should I bring over a chair?”

“I don’t think so,” Belle said. “Truly, I shouldn’t have had you over here as much as I did before, and my only excuse is that I was a wreck. But I don’t have much else for you two to help with, so you’re welcome to find something to do.”

She gestured out to the library, and this filled him with dread. Find something to do? The only reason he came here was to spend time with Belle in her favorite place. 

“Where’s Nosty?” he asked.

Belle shrugged, already scrolling through her emails. “He likes to hide. I’m sure he’s somewhere.” 

MacAvoy left to bring a cup of coffee to his friend across the street, then poured himself one and set out to find Nosty. 

It was not as difficult as he expected. Nosty sat cross-legged on the floor against a shelf of science texts, a novel propped open in his lap. He didn’t look up at MacAvoy’s approach, but MacAvoy was no longer naive enough to assume that he’d remained undetected. 

He squatted to see what was in Nosty’s line of sight at this angle. As expected, Belle’s desk was visible above a row of history paperbacks. 

“What do you want?” Nosty asked, unmoving. 

MacAvoy clenched a fist in his pocket. “Thought you might want some company.”

Nosty finally looked up from his book. “You want my company?”

Of course he didn’t, but what else was he supposed to do? Besides, if Belle saw them together, it would make her happy.

“Better than being alone.”

“You sure about that?” Nosty turned back to his book, and it didn’t matter how he looked gazing at Belle, he was awful. 

“Suit yourself.” He stalked off, but the wind left his sails as soon as he turned the corner. What did he have to do if Belle had no tasks and no one wanted to talk to him?

A book collided with his upper arm just hard enough to startle him. Nosty held the novel out to him.

“What’s this?”

“I know it sucks to quit,” Nosty said. “You look bored.”

Unable to pick his jaw up, MacAvoy accepted the book, staring at the cover without seeing it. He swallowed, then cleared his throat. “Weren’t you reading this?”

“Read it twice already. Goes quick. Passes the time.”

In all the time he’d spent with Belle, though he’d enjoyed having audiobooks on because they made him feel less alone, he’d never considered trying to read a text. He thanked Nosty, then wandered over to the couches and flipped the book over.

He didn’t know what he expected Nosty’s reading tastes to be—in all honesty, he still had trouble wrapping his head around the idea that Nosty read for pleasure at all. Still, it surprised him to discover that the thin paperback in his hands was about dragons. He could not recall ever having read a fantasy novel, except perhaps when he was a child.

The book smelled of old paper, and the text was almost too small for him to focus on. Just as he was settling into the first page with his brow furrowed in concentration, the couch dipped, and Nosty curled up against the opposite end.

The most shocking part about Nosty coming to sit with him was that he could not see Belle from there. What did that mean? Was he sitting with him truly to keep him company?

Still, MacAvoy took the distraction. “What are you reading?”

“Nothing if I’m talking to you.”

He tried to read again and made it three pages before Nosty disappeared. Even though he said nothing, somehow MacAvoy knew he’d disappointed him. With a tiny groan, he opened the book firmly, forcing himself to stare at it.

“All right.”

He jumped at the sound of Belle’s cheerful voice, and then she was coming around to sit next to him.

“You need help?” he asked.

“No, Nosty says you do. Come on, put it down, let’s go.”

Baffled, he trailed after Belle as she weaved through the stacks until she stopped at a row full of paperbacks. 

“I think this will be more your cup of tea.” She plucked a book out and handed it to him, letting go almost before he’d grabbed it as she moved to pluck another, and soon he had a pile of seven books in his arms.

“You want me to read all of these?” 

“Of course not.” She scanned the shelves again and then, after a second’s hesitation, grabbed an eighth book. “I just think you’re more likely to find one you want to read in this group than from Nosty’s tastes.” 

“You don’t think Nosty has good taste?”

The look she gave him would have sent any Catholic school student running in shame. “No, I think it’s my job to recommend books to anyone who wants one and he was just trying to be nice to a friend.”

Appropriately chastened, he brought his stack of books back to the couch to sort through them. She’d picked a variety of mysteries, and as he selected one set in the Scottish Highlands, he decided that this definitely was more his speed.

The mean little voice in his head wanted to sneer at Nosty, but he was sober and rational enough to recognize that, whether Nosty had chosen the correct book himself, he had made an effort to find one. He’d called over the librarian. 

MacAvoy made it through an entire chapter with the Scottish detective before Nosty returned to loom over him.

“What?” he asked, surprised at how annoyed he was to be interrupted.

“Belle made tea.” He jerked his thumb toward a table and then walked off. Not wanting to reject this unexpected and continued olive branch, MacAvoy hurried after him. Though they sat as far apart as two strangers forced to share a table, MacAvoy knew that Nosty was making a conscious choice to sit here instead of lurking between the stacks where he could observe Belle unseen.

Now, of course, they could both see Belle, but she could see them as well. 

They sat and read in what could only be described as companionable silence until a delighted voice that MacAvoy didn’t recognize chirped, “Oh my god, Nosty!” 

A young woman with cropped, greasy hair who couldn’t have been more than twenty, if that, stood before them in an oversized jacket, one arm crossed over her to clutch at her elbow. 

“Kaz,” Nosty said, not quite frosty but not quite friendly either. 

“I thought you was locked up!” She grabbed the chair closest to him and clambered into it. MacAvoy stared at his book, though anyone with working eyes could see he was just eavesdropping.

“It’d take more than one herd o’ pigs to lock me up,” Nosty said. He closed his book, and though his movements were slow, MacAvoy had spent the past two weeks doing almost nothing but spying on him, and he could tell that it was deliberate. Nosty was agitated. 

“How’d you get out?” Kaz asked. “Gypo said they kept you.”

“How’d I get out?” Nosty cracked his knuckles. “Couple o’ well-placed threats, a few hints as to what a bloke’s capable of without a sense of self-preservation.” He drew a finger across his throat. “Easy.”

MacAvoy almost laughed—surely, Kaz wouldn’t buy that?—but she gaped at him like he’d just dispensed a holy truth.

“No shit?”

Nosty shrugged as though he’d prefer to be taking a bow but didn’t have the space, and MacAvoy could not hide that he was looking between them now.

“Threatening the police is not a strategy that he recommends,” MacAvoy said because the moonstruck look in Kaz’s eyes was making him feel like he was about to be an accessory to a crime.

“Wee bird like her doesn’t need to threaten the coppers,” Nosty scoffed. “She can just fucking cry, they’ll be wrapped around her finger.”

Kaz eyed MacAvoy warily and inched her chair closer to Nosty. How was it that so many people found Nosty more comforting than him? Sure, he knew lots of people had complicated relationships with religion, but he was so small, so harmless in his too-big shirt and collarino. Taking the hint, he cast his eyes back to his book.

“Do you just sit here and read?” Kaz asked.

“Sometimes I have a smoke,” Nosty said. 

“Belle doesn’t put on a movie?”

MacAvoy peeked up at Nosty, whose tense shoulders could burst through his jacket at any moment. 

“She would if I asked her to.” 

Kaz glanced behind her, back at the circulation desk, then scooted closer to Nosty and lowered her voice. “You never said she was pretty when you told me about her.”

Nosty smacked both hands on the table. “That’s not why I’m here, is it? It’s just a place to eat and sit down, hey? Who gives a fuck if the librarian is a fine piece of arse?”

MacAvoy wanted to say something, wanted to defend Belle’s honor, but he sensed that it would not go over well. Even he, in his most unflattering interpretation, could not pretend that Nosty wasn’t lying to save—well, he didn’t know what Nosty was saving, but it was probably something.

“Jesus, fine, don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Kaz said, which MacAvoy thought was quite brave of her. He wouldn’t have said something like that to Nosty when he was in a mood. 

They sat for awhile, and Kaz made multiple trips to the snack cart and engaged Nosty in soft, fleeting conversation. MacAvoy eavesdropped a little about whoever Gypo was—dead now, from the sound of it—and some fellows named Marley and Boomer that Nosty insisted Kaz never tell about the library, and then Nosty fell silent.

“Who’s that?” he asked, and when MacAvoy realized he was allowed to hear this, he looked up.

Clive, who he’d all but forgotten about, was leaning over the circulation desk, COACH GASTON emblazoned on his back. MacAvoy could no longer see Belle through him, but maybe Nosty could.

“That’s the coach,” Kaz whispered. “He comes in every day.”

Nosty turned a terrifying, wild expression on Kaz, teeth bared. “Does he?” he bit out.

Again, this did not seem to frighten her, and she nodded vigorously. “She always tells him she doesn’t want to go out with him but he keeps coming back. I don’t like him.” 

“Every day?” Nosty asked. MacAvoy’s heart thumped wildly in his ears even though Nosty was no threat to him at the moment. 

“He thinks she’ll change her mind.”

Nosty slapped a hand on the table, and MacAvoy leapt to his feet. “Well, Father, get ready to be useful.”

“Wh-what?” MacAvoy asked.

“Someone’s gotta read his death rites.”

****

The problem with Coach Gaston’s appearances was that, though Belle had come to expect them all week, she could not know exactly when. Sometimes, he was in the after school crowd, sometimes he was closer to closing, and today, he was well before she expected him entirely.

“Good afternoon,” she said, though she knew she should have said something like get out. 

“Hey, beautiful,” he said. “That’s what ‘Belle’ means, right? It’s pretty.”

“Yes,” she said. Again, the futile thought that she could be curt enough to convince him to go away floated through her mind. 

“You know, you’re not like any other girl I’ve met,” he said. 

“Because I’m uninterested?” As usual, she stared at her computer screen, determined not to do anything that could be construed as eye contact.

“We’ll see.” He leaned closer and plucked a pen off of her desk. “You’re so passionate about books.”

“How would you know?” she snapped. “We’ve never even talked about books.”

“So you want to grab a drink and talk about books?” he asked, and she could have screamed. Of course she’d fallen right into his trap.

“Oi, look at that,” came Nosty’s booming voice, and Belle could breathe again. “There’s a fucking rat in the library.”

Coach Gaston turned, and Nosty shoved him against the desk, gripping his lapels and snarling.

“What the hell, mate?” Clive asked, hands scrabbling along the desk for a grip. Nosty pushed him further back.

“Mate? Don’t be so chummy, son,” Nosty hissed, brogue so thick, Belle could hardly understand him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Coach Gaston pushed Nosty off of him, and though he was at least three times more muscular, Belle thought that the only reason he was able to push Nosty back was because Nosty let him. He stepped back enough to give Clive space to brace himself.

“What am I doing? What are you doing? Picking a fight in a library in front of a woman?”

Belle scowled, but the only person paying attention to her was Joseph cowering just out of reach of the fight. “Excuse me—”

“Aye, I picked a fight in front of her, I picked it because she wants you to piss off.”

“Me?” Coach Gaston drew himself up, but Nosty just bared his teeth. “You’re the one causing problems.”

Nosty barked with laughter. “Och, I’m the one causing problems, he says.” He surveyed an imaginary audience. “Fucking piece of shite manky keech good for fuck all—did she not tell you no?”

If she hadn’t been staring at him, she would have missed his glance dart toward her, but she nodded vigorously when she realized he was seeking confirmation of this fact.

Coach Gaston blustered. “For now.”

For a second, Belle thought Nosty might leap at Clive like a wildcat and rip his throat out with his teeth. 

“Fuck—fucking for now?” 

“You know how women are,” Clive said, clearly trying to develop some level of camaraderie when it became obvious that Nosty would not be swayed by his considerable extra muscle. 

“Well, fuck me, I guess I don’t. How are they, then?”

“Well.” Clive glanced back at her, and she didn’t have time to put on her stoic mask again, too busy clutching the top of her chair and watching Nosty. “They’ve got to lead you on. You know, no really means yes eventually and all that.”

With a roar, Nosty had him by the lapels and bent over the desk again, and Belle had to jump out of the way. 

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you basic word comprehension, Coach?” Nosty snarled while Clive groped around the desk. Belle moved a pen cup out of his reach.

“Let go of me!”

“Oh, you want me to let go?” Nosty drove his elbow into his gut.

“Yes, god!” Clive wheezed.

“Didn’t hear that, mate .” Nosty grabbed Clive’s wandering hand and slammed it back into the desk. “How about a broken finger?”

“N-no—let go of me!”

“What’s that? No? Sounds like a yes to me—”

“Wait, stop!” Belle flew out from around her desk, grateful to hear no bones cracking. 

“Get back!” Joseph yelled, but Belle grabbed Nosty’s arm and tugged. It didn’t budge.

“Belle—” Nosty growled.

“Nosty, please, stop!” She clutched his arm like a teddy bear. “If you’re doing this for me, you’ve made your point. You don’t need to hurt him.”

“I don’t think I have made my point.” He wrenched his arm out of her grasp. “He hasn’t even tried to apologize yet.”

“I’m sorry!” Coach Gaston flailed, but he couldn’t move under Nosty’s weight. “Belle, I’m sorry!”

Belle, not knowing what else to do and ignoring Joseph’s hand on her elbow, ducked under Nosty’s arm to get between him and Clive. 

He finally looked at her, a wild animal ready to strike, and she trembled as she met his eyes. “It’s not worth it,” she said. “Let him go.”

Nosty watched her for the span of three breaths, and then dropped his hold on Coach Gaston. Belle stepped aside to let him clamber off the desk.

“You’re banned from the library,” she said to him. “You’re not even allowed for school visits.”

“Me?” He looked incredulously at Nosty. “What about him?”

“What the fuck do you care if you’re not allowed?” Nosty asked. “Come on, I’ll see you out.” He grabbed Coach Gaston by the lapels again and half-escorted, half-dragged him through the door. Belle, Joseph, and Kaz all watched them leave.

“Jesus Christ,” Joseph said. “Jesus fucking Christ, I need a drink.” 

“Are you okay, Belle?” Kaz asked.

Belle nodded, watching the door even though she could no longer see Nosty. Where was he? Was he coming back? 

“Don’t go after him,” Joseph said. “Just let him be.”

“Shut up.” After that, she had no time for guilt over Joseph’s wide eyes or slack jaw because she was running out the doors.

Nosty was nowhere in sight, but when she waved to her friend across the street, he pointed around the other side of the library. She jogged over and there he was, pacing and smoking a cigarette. He held up a hand to stop her from coming closer, so she did.

“Nosty.”

“Don’t say anything,” he said. “Please, I can’t fucking hear it right now.” He rubbed at his chest near the scar from his bottle injury.

“I wasn’t going to say anything bad,” she called. 

He paused, then threw his cigarette on the ground and crushed it beneath his boot. Without looking at her, he lit another, took a few puffs, then did the same. 

“Nosty, can I come closer?”

He shrugged, so she took a few steps toward him, then another few when he didn’t flee, and a few more until she could reach his arm.

“Thank you for getting rid of him.” 

He didn’t speak. She licked her lips. 

“Nosty, I’m not mad. Please.”

Careful, like he didn’t know which of them might break, he stepped toward her. She wrapped both hands around his arm, and he came a little bit closer.

“Please say something,” she said.

He flicked the flint of his lighter in his other hand, watching it click click click until it sparked. “I scared you.”

She shook her head, squeezing his arm. “You didn’t scare me.”

“Don’t lie, Belle, I saw your face. I know how to scare someone. I know what it fucking looks like.”

Belle licked her dry lips again. What could she say? She had been a little scared. “I wasn’t afraid you’d hurt me.”

His head hardly moved, but he watched her now. “What were you afraid of?”

She wished she could wrap her arms around him and bury her face in his chest, but she stayed back. “I was afraid you wouldn’t stop, and the police would come, and they’d lock you up with no bail for good.”

The shift was almost imperceptible, but somehow, Nosty faced her now. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” she agreed.

“I don’t want to go to prison.”

Tentative, she slid her hand into his. He linked their fingers together. “Then you can’t be violent.” 

“Violence is who I am, Belle. Just ask anyone.”

Belle stepped close enough to rest her head on his shoulder, and though his arm twitched, he stood stock-still beneath her.

“That’s not true. Violence is a piece of you just like anything else.”

“Belle, this is me.” He pulled his arm out of hers. “I’m a basket case who’d cut off the hand what feeds him to make a fucking point.”

She shook her head. “Violence has just been the only tool you’ve had for a long time.”

He frowned down at her. “What?”

“The only way you knew to survive was with violence.” She offered her hand again. “That doesn’t mean that’s all you are, and you can learn new tools. You can make different choices.”

Still frowning at her, he took her hand. 

“The past doesn’t define you. It’s how you move forward that does.”

“If he’d done so much as grazed you by accident, I’d have broken his fucking neck,” Nosty whispered.

She shook her head. “You didn’t even break his fingers.”

“What don’t you understand?” He yanked her to him, cupping her face roughly in his free hand. “If you hadn’t stopped me, I would have. I would have broken every single finger on his hand, and probably pissed on his fucking shoes.”

A laugh bubbled up, but she swallowed it because Nosty did not appear to be joking. “It doesn’t matter what you might have done. It matters that you chose not to.” 

Nosty groaned liked a wounded dog and dropped his hand. “I don’t understand, Belle. I don’t understand what you want me to say. I tried again, I failed. Dress it up however you want, it doesn’t change anything.”

With the hand she still held, she tugged him toward the back of the library where there was a tiny concrete patio and a picnic table where the employees and volunteers who smoked usually took their breaks. He allowed her to sit him down and arrange him so that she could sit next to him and take his hand again.

“Nosty, you keep looking at every setback as failure.”

“Belle, I’m trying my best—”

“I know.” She pressed a finger to his lips and he settled. “Healing takes a long time. You can’t change overnight—and I’m not asking you to change who you are.” 

“Healing?” he said. “You sound like the therapist.” 

She pressed her finger more firmly to his lips, and he finally cracked a tiny smile. 

“You’ve always had to rely on violence to survive, but now you don’t. Now you have a safe place to go, regular meals, and people who care about you.” 

“But—”

“Nosty, have I given you permission to speak?”

Watching her the same way he did whenever he was gearing up to tease her, he tilted his head to the side and closed his teeth around her finger. She laughed and snatched her hand away.

“You don’t have to use violence anymore, and someday, your brain will catch up. And until then, if I’m able to stop you, that means there’s hope.”

“You think so?”

She shrugged. “You came out here to smoke and cool off, didn’t you? I don’t see Clive’s body in a ditch.”

Nosty looked down at his hands, flipping them over as if to confirm that there was no blood. “I did tell him there were some things I missed about me time in prison, and he best lock his windows at night.”

“ Nosty , that’s not funny.”

He pursed his lips. “Wasn’t supposed to be, was it? I wanted him to be as scared as he made you.”

“Oh god.” She slid her hand up to her forehead. “He did scare me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He lifted her chin. “I would’ve been here.”

She shook her head. “I felt silly.”

“In front of me? I just told you I’d’ve pissed on his shoes, and I fucking meant it.”

As usual, her sudden burst of affection made her want to kiss him, but she held back. “I guess I was afraid I hadn’t done enough to tell him no, and you might—you might be upset.”

“Me? Upset with you about him?” His eyes narrowed as if he was doing mental math, and then he snorted. “Is it because I was upset about the good Father?”

“Maybe.”

He tilted her face more, staring her down. “I was only jealous because you were nice to him. If you told me some bloke was bothering you, I’d take care of it. I’d do anything to protect you. You—” He clenched his teeth, but kept eye contact. “You’ve done so much to protect me.”

“I’m really proud of you,” she said. “You’ve come so far. And—maybe your new therapist will help you internalize what you learned today?”

“Internalize what I’ve learnt today?” He scoffed. “Best be careful or I’ll think you want me to do more than be civil with the shrink.”

“Well, if you have to go anyway, you might as well get something out of it.”

He snorted. “We’ll see.” He released her chin only to wrap a lock of her hair around his finger. “I’m not ready to go back in yet.”

“Well, I can’t leave the desk forever, but a few more minutes can’t hurt.” She pecked him on the cheek so quickly, he jumped, and then he grinned.

“A few minutes with you’s less than I want and more than I deserve, but I’ll take it.”

[ophernelia]

+ PAIRING: Dallas & Cale Sumner, Imogen's Parents. + WARNINGS: None. Maybe bad writing. Mildly proofread. + WORD COUNT: 1.3K + SONG CHOICE: ♪ + AUTHOR'S NOTES: I had planned to do a special episode on this concept, but I couldn't execute it well soooo here it is in written form. The "Anchors" series is meant to give you a little more insight into certain Lykaia characters and their relationships. Anchors are meant to ground you. To hold you down and keep you steady so you don't get swept away. In essence, that's all this mini series is. Just a few glimpses of those moments between certain characters. I am a much better director than I am a writer, so you've been forewarned!

Northern Vegas was usually hot and dry. It didn’t rain very often. A sprinkle here or there, but never anything more than that. It wasn’t uncommon for weeks- or even a month to go by without a single drop of rain. That makes days like today all that more special. Heavy droplets seemed to fall endlessly from the dark clouds overhead. The air was thick with humidity. Due to the heat, even the raindrops didn’t offer a reprieve. They warmed as they fell through the atmosphere and peppered the busy city below. The slick pavement of the highway only increased the stagnation of hefty traffic. The sounds of honking cars, rainfall, and rubber tires on asphalt echoed throughout the air. It almost covered the sound of incessant sobs pouring out of a grey 2003 E-class Mercedes. Almost. “She has an appointment with a neurologist tomorrow-” Dallas’ sentence was cut short after another wail sprang from Imogen’s throat. She sat uncomfortably in her car seat in the back of the car. Her round face soaked with salty tears, while small hands clenched the fabric of her shirt. Today was an especially hard day. She woke up in a sour mood. Not even awarding her mother with a grunt of a response when she questioned her. She had been completely silent until the first meltdown that came after dropping her breakfast on the floor. The second came shortly after she was dressed and did not want to wear her rainbow striped shirt. Instead she wanted to remain in her pajamas- at least that’s what Dallas believes she wanted. Imogen would never outright tell her. She would never outright tell her anything, because even as she approaches the tender age of four, Imogen could not speak.

 “Baby, please stop crying.” Dallas pleaded shifting her eyes to the rearview mirror where she caught the sight of Imogen in complete disarray. Her hands clenched hard onto the steering wheel in front of her. “She has another appointment with her speech therapist the following Friday. I got it rescheduled since we’re flying out to see Hattie on Saturday.” Cale, sat comfortably in the passenger seat, shifts his body to face Imogen. “You excited to see grandma, Immy?” Imogen doesn’t respond and instead lets out another loud whine. Shifting his focus back to the road in front of them, Cale sighs. “Maybe the busyness of the week is stressing her out.” Dallas rolls her eyes in response, already finding herself slightly annoyed with Cale. “It’s only going to get busier. After this appointment she has to get blood drawn.” Absent-mindedly, Dallas taps her finger against the warm leather of the steering wheel. “When we get home, Rhiannon’s coming by to braid her up too. Hopefully we’ll be back by seven.” Cale hums in response, sinking further into his seat. He had to choose his words carefully today with Imogen and Dallas both being in sour moods. Dallas had already scolded him earlier for his lack of help in getting Imogen ready for the day. He didn’t want another repeat of this morning. His mind drifted over to the thought of dinner. A nice good meal usually puts Dallas at ease.

“We should order out for dinner. Maybe that Thai place again.” Dallas lets out a heavy sigh in response. Thai would be great. Anything would be right now. With the chaos of the morning, Dallas had forgotten to feed herself sufficiently too. The cup of coffee and few bites of an egg had all but disappeared from her stomach. That was around 9 AM this morning. And what time was it now? Nearing 2:30? That’s no good. “We’d have to find something else for Imogen to eat.” The corners of her mouth rotated downward into a scowl. “There’s no way she’d go for basil chicken today.” Cale’s green eyes flicked upward, focusing on a spot on the ceiling as he spoke. “We could find something plain for her. You know she’ll always eat mango sti-” He was promptly interrupted by Imogen letting out another loud wail. Frustrated with the incessant noise, Dallas shouted back. “IMOGEN! Please!” The sudden sound of her mother’s voice sent shockwaves through Imogen’s tiny frame. Resulting in her only crying harder and much more loudly. Dallas’ own brown eyes were chock full of tears. The whites of her knuckles showing with how hard she gripped the steering wheel. “God! Please just stop crying for ten minutes!” Traffic had all but slowed to a complete stop. Dallas’ head fell forward onto the wheel and with a rugged inhale she strained to say “God, I can’t do this!” The last few years had been especially taxing.

As an infant, Imogen never cried. She slept well through the night. She was perfect. Dallas she had been blessed with a miracle child. In comparison to her sister’s children, Imogen was a saint. It wasn’t until she reached the age of two and Dallas noticed she still had not muttered a single word. Not a single “mama” or “dada” ever slipped from her lips. Only an occasional grunt. On rare instances, maybe even a giggle. But.. there were never any words. Then came the tantrums shortly after. The only sounds Dallas has heard from Imogen in recent years have all been of sobs. Even with countless trips to specialists, frequent blood tests, and even a few MRI’s- no expert could decipher what’s wrong with Imogen. There were a few murmurs of autism, but each doctor told Dallas and Cale that it was too soon to tell. Even her older sister Valerie, who works as a physician at a children’s hospital, could not give her a sound answer. Only noting that autism often goes undiagnosed in black girls due to the lack of studies on them. Imogen could not be helped. Dallas could not help her. She couldn’t help but feel guilty. She always felt guilty. Even now, after raising her voice at her daughter. Is she not just as frustrated as Dallas? For there to be something wrong and be unable to communicate it- is that not its own hell? Thick salty globs of water littered Dallas’ face. The wetness of her tears soaked her jeans as they fell onto her lap. Thoughts of failure as a mother rang through her mind, making her want to cover her ears and scream in response in an attempt to drown it out. A large warm palm is the only thing that brought her back. Lifting her head off the wheel, her eyes met Cale’s. He smiled softly. 

“It’s gonna be okay.” 

They were simple words. Idyllic in a sense, but they were enough to ground Dallas. He continued to rub soothing circles along her back as he turned to face a still-crying-Imogen. “Imogen, would you like to sing a song with me?” With his free hand, Cale fumbled with a cassette he pulled from the glovebox. It was one Hattie had given him a few years ago. One that Dallas’ listened to constantly throughout her pregnancy with Imogen. Justifying her constant playing of it by stating “the baby likes it”. He popped into the dashboard and quickly turned to Imogen’s favorite song- Ella Fitzgerald’s cover of I’m Getting Sentimental Over You. As Cale hummed along to the melody, Imogen’s crying slowed and eventually stopped completely. Although she was still soaked from her tears, she sat calmly in her car seat watching her father closely. He smiled as he caught her eye. “You really like this song, huh?” Cale turned back around. His head lightly rested against the back of the seat. “So does your grandma.” Without turning his head, his eyes shifted over to Dallas. Much like Imogen, she was still watching him intently. “It’s gonna be alright. I promise.” He was smiling more widely now. “We can handle this. Me and you, remember?” As she opened her mouth to speak, Dallas was interrupted by a honk. Whipping her head to face the road in front of her, she noticed traffic had begun to move again. Quickly composing herself, she lightly tapped the gas pedal and the car rolled forward. Exhaling, her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror once more. “Immy, you okay baby?” Imogen’s eyes now heavy with sleep, she shifted in her car seat letting out a soft groan. 

That meant yes.

[canonicallyobserving911]

Fuck it Friday!

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

Here's a snippet from a WIP that's been sitting in my drafts for a few weeks. It's on pause until I complete the next few chapters in my multi-chapter fic titled: “I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!” but my plan is to get back to it soon.

It's a future fic and Eddie and Buck have been married for seven years in it.

____________

For the second time, the receptionist explains Dr. Mason’s in-person appointments are full but due to a cancellation, Buck has the option to do a virtual consultation with him tomorrow afternoon at 1:30PM.  He huffs and tells her to schedule it since he doesn’t have a choice then he exits his office.

It’s 12:12PM when he finally makes it back to the Jeep and after he gets inside, he debates whether he should call Eddie now or wait until they talk tonight.  He realizes he doesn’t have long to decide when his phone starts ringing since it’s his husband calling him on FaceTime.

Before he answers, he tries to steady himself so he won’t look like something’s wrong because he doesn’t want to worry him.

Eddie’s the Critical Care Paramedic for Los Angeles County and whenever he’s on shift, he’s in and out of the medevac all day long dealing with critically ill patients and most of them are in life or death situations.  It's the reason why he’s torn about whether he should tell him about the thing that may or may not be life threatening until he knows more.

He inhales, plasters a fake smile on his face, which he knows won’t fool Eddie, and answers, “Hey babe, how’s your shift?”

“It’s ok I guess but I’ll be glad when these last two hours are over.”  He pauses when he looks over Buck’s shoulder because he notices he’s not at home even though he should be since he worked a grueling 48-hour shift that went over five hours.

“Where are you?  I called the house phone and I’ve been calling your cell for thirty minutes but you didn’t answer.”

“Um… sorry I had it on vibrate and I’ve been at the store so I must have missed it.”  He lies.

“It’s ok.”  He heard the waver in Buck’s voice when he responded and he can see the fake smile on his face but he knows he has to ease into questioning him about whatever’s wrong, so he’ll tell him.  “What did you buy at the store?”

“Some steaks for tonight because I’m going to cook you an awesome dinner.”  He lies again and he realizes he has to go to the supermarket now to buy some steaks for dinner because they don't have any.

Eddie raises his eyebrows and he’s about to ask him what’s wrong but the alarm sounds.

“Hey… babe that’s the alarm and I have to go.  I love you and I’ll see you in a couple of hours." He looks into the camera and meets Buck's eyes. "And… just in case you thought I didn’t notice, I did! And we’re going to talk about whatever it is you’re not telling me when I get home, ok?”

He nods then replies, “Ok.  I love you too… so much”.

They end the call.

He throws his phone onto the passenger’s seat, leans his head against the headrest and sighs.  He doesn’t know how he’s going to tell him but he knows he has to because he’ll find out anyway especially since he won’t be able to avoid talking about it when he’s on a virtual call with Dr. Mason tomorrow.

What is Buck hiding from Eddie? 👀

Why did he go see a doctor? 👀

[ultimateaclrecovery]

So I need to have a serious conversation with my boyfriend about how our relationship is going, and I’m not really sure what the end result will be. I’m not really looking to end things but things also can’t continue as they currently are.

The awkward parts of this the next time I will see him in person is valentines and the second awkward part is I still need to decide if I’m going to join him and then his family in Italy and then buy a flight if so. I don’t really want to have an intense conversation with a potential sad outcome on Valentine’s Day but I also kind of want to make sure we aren’t just going to instantly break up before I buy a flight. And I don’t want to wait to long on buying a flight in case prices go up. The flights from the USA would be fully refundable for a future flight credits but one leg of the trip is with an international airline (still Ike’s through the us one though) and flights not departing from the us would have change fees. If we talk and decide to keep going and then break up in couple months of making changes doesn’t work, I’ll just change my flights and go ride ponies in Portugal in October instead and if I pay some change fees such it goes. But I don’t want to buy a flight today and break up within the week.

But I also can’t fake anything so trying to wait until Friday or Saturday when we’d most likely see other again and just trying to enjoy the moment on valentines probably won’t work for me.

So then I’m left with either calling him today or tomorrow or just having a hard conversation on valentines. The current plan is to make heart shaped ravioli, so I’d feel like we’d probably do that and have dinner and maybe then talk.

It’s extra annoying because I fully fell for Instagram ads of the lingerie with the bow around the boobs and I wanted to wear that as a fun surprise. But that only works if the conversation is a good one.

I’ve been having some negative feelings for awhile but it took a little bit of self reflection to really sort out my own feelings and what I need and try to figure out what is my own insecurities and anxieties (that I need to work on for my own self) what things I do actually need from him to be happy in the relationship.

I also have a therapy consult scheduled for Wednesday (thru a work program that offers 8 free sessions). It it’s just a 15 min intake sort of thing vs an actual appointment. And that will take time to work thru.

But I actually feel very good about the steps I’m taking/planning to take even if the timing is terrible. And I have all my talking points laid out for what I need to remember to bring up (yes I made a detailed yes, and yes maybe that’s insane but I wanted to get my thoughts in order).

I had mentioned on Saturday morning that we should actually talk about things and we discussed what sort of setting we should have those talks in (I like to bring things up as we’re falling asleep because it’s quite and feels intimate but then he’s half asleep so that’s not great). So hopefully he doesn’t feel too blinded but I’m wondering if I should give him more of a heads or ask if it’d be okay to talk about some things then. Or if it that would just make it worse

[xxrainshadowsxx]

Interpersonal Chapter 4

Heh. I'm not going to spoil anything, but things start to get spicy this chapter.

A couple weeks later, you were putting up with a particularly slow day when your computer pings with an email. You pull it up and see that it’s an invitation to some sort of event. You forward it off to Mr. Onceler, not expecting to hear about it again. He gets a lot of these requests and so far, he’s ignored every single one of them. So you’re surprised when he comes into your office moments later, asking you to clear his schedule for Thursday and Friday so he can attend.

You pull up his schedule and hasten to reschedule and cancel his appointments for those days, trying to avoid his eyes. Despite your agreement to forget what had happened, every time you see him, you’re reminded of it, and more often than not, the memory causes your cheeks to become enflamed. You’ve also caught yourself staring at him all too often, which both annoyed and confused you. 

“Anything else you need from me? Travel ticket?” you ask, still attempting to be diligent with your job, no matter how awkward you felt.

“No need. We’ll just take my private jet,” he shrugs. The sentence is casual enough, but a few words catch you totally off guard.

“Wait a minute, pause. What do you mean, ‘we?’” you ask. He looks at you in confusion.

“You’re coming with me, of course,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Hope you didn’t have anything important this weekend, we won’t get back until Sunday.”

“No, that’s fine. I can come,” you mumble. “So, I’ll get two train tickets then?” You’re desperately trying to distract him and make him forget about the other thing he said that you didn’t particularly like. 

“No, I told you we’ll take my plane.” Dammit. No such luck. You squirm uncomfortably.

“Do we really have to fly?” you ask desperately, abandoning all sense of pride.

He raises an eyebrow at you, looking highly amused. “We won’t get there fast enough if we take the train,” he points out. “You’re not scared of flying, are you?”

You sigh. You were hoping to avoid this topic. “I’m not overly fond of it, no,” you reluctantly admit.

He chuckles, and you attempt to glare at him, but he puts his hand over yours and your brain completely short-circuits. “Don’t worry,” he reassures you. “I’ll be with you the whole time, nothing’s gonna happen.” He begins to walk back to his own office, leaving your hand cold. “Don’t bother coming in tomorrow, I’ll pick you up at your place around nine. Plan for four days.” With that, he exits, leaving you to process your new weekend plans.

To distract yourself from overanalyzing his hand touch, you pull up the email again to try and gauge how fancy this is going to be. After you scan the invitation, you find that it’s a charity gala. Okay. So very formal. Which means you were likely going to be completely out of your element. Great.

You were also questioning why the hell he needed his PA at a gala he wasn’t even hosting, but you suppose that point isn’t worth arguing. It was very much in your job description to accompany him to events. You just hadn’t realized those events would see you rubbing shoulders with some of the richest people in the country.

Before you leave for the evening, you make a pit stop at Mr. Onceler’s desk. He’s working on some form of paperwork, but immediately looks up and puts it off to the side as you approach. You try and ignore his very obvious delight as you pull up a chair, instead doing your damndest to focus on the questions you had. “So, dress code for this? Black tie?”

“Yup,” he clarifies easily enough. “Do you have something or do you want me to bring you anything?" The question is asked with no judgment, but it nonetheless makes you squirm as you're reminded just how damn wealthy these people are, and that you absolutely don't run in the same circles.

"I should be okay… but maybe grab something just in case? I'm not exactly in familiar territory here," you say.

"It's really nothing to worry about," he promises. "Just a bunch of people trying to prove that they're more philanthropic than whoever they happen to be talking to. Just stick by me, you'll be fine."

"You say that, but you do realize the most formal event I've ever been to was my senior prom, right?" Your tone is light enough, but your words were 100% sincere. "This isn't exactly something I'm going to be comfortable at, even if you tell me it's no big deal. It's a big deal for someone like me."

"I promise, it's going to be fine," he reiterates. "All you have to do is show up, look pretty, and stay on my arm all night if you're really that nervous. I'll even pay for all your drinks."

"Oh, that's all I have to do?" you tease. Despite everything, he has managed to drastically improve your mood, and you can't resist the opportunity to slip into your easy banter with him. "Looking pretty is not as easy as you think it is."

You're fully expecting him to tease you back. You are not expecting him to snort and mutter, "Trust me, looking pretty is the least of your worries." You feel your cheeks flush crimson as you try and figure out the meaning behind that. Was that an attempt at a compliment? You really aren't sure. But before you can do more than open your mouth as you flounder for words, he beats you to the punch. "I don't want to keep you here all night. I'm sure you have packing to do."

"Oh… of course," you stammer as you collect your things and what remains of your dignity and begin to leave. You've nearly reached the door when you remember to say, "Good night, sir."

"Good night." You don't turn around, but you feel his eyes staring at you until you exit the room and shut the door behind you.

Well. It was going to be a very interesting weekend, that was for sure.

The next morning, as you wait in your living room for him to show up, there's a honk outside at 9 a.m. sharp. You wheel your hastily-packed suitcase behind you, but stop short the second you open the front door.

When he'd said he'd be picking you up, you assumed that meant he'd be driving. But you've learned Mr. Onceler is never one to do anything small, and this is clearly no exception; he's shown up in a whole ass limo, complete with a driver waiting to hold the door open for you.

"Allow me," he says when you get over your shock and manage to make your way down to the car. He relieves you of your luggage before opening the car door, and you receive another small shock when you actually do see Mr. Onceler. For the plane ride, you'd opted for comfort and were only wearing leggings and a T-shirt. He's sitting there in his usual green suit. You feel totally underdressed, which is ridiculous seeing as you're going to be on a God-forsaken plane.

"You weren't expecting me in business casual, were you?" you ask, just to confirm, as you slide in next to him.

"Nah, whatever makes you comfortable," he shrugs. "I'm just most comfortable in this." You suppose you can't argue with that, although you are questioning who the hell felt most comfortable wearing a suit of all things. That seems rude to point out, so you just stay silent as he opens a mini-fridge next to him. "Champagne?"

"At nine in the morning?" you ask with a raised eyebrow. 

"Relax, if you want to be technical with it, it's a mimosa. That makes it classy," he defends, giving you that smile that always makes your stomach jump. "Besides, I thought you could use a drink before the flight. Help with your nerves and all." Once again his logic is sound, and you accept the drink he offers you without further complaint.

"How long of a flight is it?" you ask after a couple of minutes.

"It'll take up most of the day,” he replies, watching you closely to gauge your reaction. "We should get in around six, then we'll go to the hotel and not have to do anything until tomorrow."

"And what time tomorrow should I be ready?"

This one he has to think over. "I'd say seven, to be on the safe side," he decides. "The thing doesn't start until eight, but we should leave early in case there's traffic." He doesn't mention it, but there's also the implication that you might need to change to meet the standards of the event.

The car comes to a halt moments later, and a quick look out the window confirms you've come to an airport hangar. You down the rest of your drink in one gulp to avoid turning green.

He gestures for you to exit first, which you begrudgingly do. Now you're forced to confront the plane, which looks way too big considering it was only carrying two passengers. Seeing the flying metal death trap instantly makes you queasy and you stop dead in your tracks, closing your eyes and taking several deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. 

"Hey? You okay?" His voice is a reminder that you aren't alone, but more than that, you're struck by the sincerity lacing his words. When you force your eyes open, he's looking at you with genuine concern and even some worry. 

"I told you yesterday, I don't like flying," you grit out.

"You said you weren't fond of it. I think this goes a bit beyond 'not fond' of something," he points out. 

You huff out a breath of frustration at yourself. He was completely right of course. You'd tried to downplay your fear yesterday, and now that decision was coming back to bite you in the ass. "Fine. I am utterly terrified of flying," you admit. "Once we get to cruising altitude I should be mostly fine, but takeoff and landing…" You trail off as a shudder wreaks its way through your entire body as you remember your horrible fear from the very few times you've flown.

He's still looking worried for you, but seems to have made his mind up about something: you recognize the look on his face from when he's made a particularly difficult decision at work.

He comes up beside you and slips one of his arms around your waist, holding you to his side securely but not being restrictive about it. "Nothing's going to happen. I'll be right with you the whole time," he murmurs. Normally, you'd never allow this, seeing as he's destroying all sorts of boundaries, but at the moment, you couldn't be more grateful. Any support you can get while flying is welcome, and his quiet confidence, steadiness, and reassurances are offering you an unbelievable amount of comfort.

You allow him to lead you to the base of the stairs to board the flight. He's forced to release his hold on your waist since there's only room to board one at a time, but he stays close behind you as you climb the stairs and dart to the nearest available seat in the cabin.

The interior doesn't look at all like you're used to, closer resembling a hotel suite than a commercial flight. The seat you're in is wide and comfortable, and there are no seats next to you. Instead, there's one directly across from you. That's the seat Mr. Onceler takes, allowing for that sure, steady presence to still be available for you.

However, now that you're physically on board, your fear starts to settle back in. You have to grip your own hands tightly to stop them from shaking, and you can't stop your eyes from darting over to glance out the window every few seconds.

"Stop looking outside," he gently chastises you. "You're only going to freak yourself out worse."

"I know, but I literally cannot help it," you manage to get out through gritted teeth. The plane begins to move, and you let out a whimper as your knuckles turn white as you grip the armrests.

He's now looking around frantically as well. You have no idea what he's searching for. He only stops when he looks down, his eyes fixating on something. "It'll have to do," he mutters before he grabs his own tie and begins undoing it with quick fingers. "Lean towards me," he orders.

"What are you-"

"Just lean over here!" he says with such force you can't help but obey. The second you're close enough, he wraps the tie around your eyes, effectively blocking your vision. "There. Now you can't look out the window," he says smugly as he knots the fabric just below your ponytail. You'd respond with a thanks, but now you're shaking for a whole different reason. Being blindfolded by his fucking tie feels entirely too intimate, even if it's for an innocent reason. You're also smelling pine and bergamot, a scent that over the past few months you've come to associate with your boss. You've never smelled it so strongly, and it's never smelled so good before.

"Give me your hands," he says quietly. As if acting on their own accord, your hands unclench themselves and blindly search for his. He grasps your hands in each of his own and fuck…

Whenever you'd touched his hands before, he always had gloves on. Always. But in the time it took for him to blindfold you and take your hands, he'd removed his gloves, thereby removing another barrier between the two of you.

And as dangerous, as stupid as this was, you can't find the capacity to care about these walls coming down. No, if anything you're secretly celebrating, which is ridiculous.

The plane gives a horrible lurch just then, and you're guessing it's left the ground now. You jump, your hands twitching in his before he squeezes them tighter. "Breathe," he reminds you, and you can't help but let out a horribly embarrassing, breathy little moan at his words. His mouth must be right by your ear; you can feel his breath on your neck. The fact that you can't see is pushing your other senses into overdrive, and intentionally or not, he's taking full advantage of that fact. "Relax, I'm right here, nothing is going to happen to you," he continues to murmur into your ear. And the more he speaks, the more you want him to…

He reaches behind you and removes his tie, and you have to blink a few times to get used to having your sight returned to you. "We're at cruising," he informs you. "You alright?"

"Y-yeah," you manage to gulp out as you try and calm yourself down. You'd had a visceral reaction to what he'd done, and having it end so abruptly was a bit shocking to you. You were also desperately trying to sort out exactly what had happened.

The problem with sorting yourself out was that it required being honest. And if you were being honest, that meant you'd have to come to terms with the fact that you'd wanted him to kiss you. You wanted him to kiss you so fucking badly. You were upset he hadn't. And that was so wrong of you to feel.

You shouldn't be feeling anything but friendship with your boss. But you've started catching yourself occasionally wanting more before you chastise yourself harshly. You absolutely should not have a crush on your boss. But despite your best efforts, you think you might have developed a crush on your boss.

Said boss stands up just then, and you can't help but follow his movements. "I'm gonna go take a nap in the other room. Care to come with me?" he asks as he starts making his way to the back of the cabin.

He wasn't asking what you thought he was, right? You're definitely inventing innuendos he didn't mean just because your own mind is 100% in the gutter at the moment. But best to double-check, just in case. "Are there two separate beds?"

"Nope," he says casually before disappearing into the other room.

…Was he seriously propositioning you to sleep with him?!

Before you can even wrap your mind about what just happened, he pops his head out the door. "It's a king-sized bed. There'll be plenty of room, don't worry," he says before shutting the door for the second time.

You wish you were able to put up even a modicum of resistance. But in reality, the only thought going through your head is, what the hell. Can't possibly make the situation any worse!

Besides, you actually are tired. Packing had made it so that you stayed up much later than you were used to the previous night. Getting more sleep would be good for you.

At least that was the excuse you were going to use to justify following him into the back room only moments later.

Inside, there was that king-sized bed he'd talked about, topped with a thick black comforter. Mr. Onceler was sitting on one side of the bed, and he'd changed out of his green suit into a much more understated white T-shirt and gray sweatpants.

Goddammit. You acknowledge that he's always been good-looking, but then he had to go ahead and choose now to look normal and approachable instead of a billionaire entrepreneur. And you think this more normal version of him was even better looking than before.

He looks up when you enter the room. "Do you want to change into anything first?" he offers. "I don't know if you noticed, but your luggage was brought in here before we left. You could get into something more comfortable."

"This is fine," you insist. You usually go to sleep in a tank-top and shorts, but you were absolutely not getting into any size bed with him wearing a tank-top and shorts, especially not now when you have no self-control.

You climb into the opposite side of the bed as him, staying as close as you can to the edge of the bed. You've also ensured you're facing away from him as well. "Sleep well," you mumble before you allow yourself to drift off.

"You too," you hear before you fall into sweet nothing.

When you wake up, you're snuggled up to something very warm. You're too comfortable to move at the moment, but you suppose you could open your eyes and start attempting to come to full consciousness.

But when you open your eyes, you're staring into something white, which confuses you. You didn't remember anything white on the bed. Nothing except for…

Oh. Oh no.

As you come to be fully aware, you realize you're enveloped in what feels an awful lot like arms. You don't want to confirm anything, but you have to look up.

And sure enough, there's the sleeping face of Mr. Onceler right there. Even though you'd started on the very ends of the bed, you'd somehow both migrated to the middle and gotten tangled up in each other.

Before you figure out what the hell to do, he opens his own bleary eyes. "What time is it?" he asks sleepily before seemingly noticing you for the first time. He starts right at you, wide awake now, and quickly pulls his arms back as his face turns scarlet, but you can hardly blame for that. You're sure your own face is crimson by this point as well. 

"I need you to not say anything, and roll over," he requests, his voice strained and rather higher-pitched than normal.

"Why-?"

"Please, just do it," he asks again, now refusing to meet your eyes. You're still confused, but you'll do as he asks. You bring your leg up when your knee brushes against something hard and oblong-shaped.

Well. Um. That happened. And fucker ain't little.

You both freeze and slowly look at each other, both of you looking mortified. Suddenly your brain turns back on, and you jump out of bed, making a beeline for the door.

"Wait!" he calls just before your hand touches the knob. You pause, but refuse to look at him. "Agree to never speak of this again?" he pleads.

You finally turn to face him. "Agreed. This never happened," you say before slipping into the main cabin, leaning against the door and breathing heavily.

How in the ever loving fuck were you supposed to spend a whole weekend with him and act professional after that? Death take you now. It's the only solution you can find.

[marmolita]

are we just cursed in December or??? details behind the cut, cw for cancer, death (don't worry me and my husband and kids are fine)

So last December we went to visit my family for the holidays as usual and it was kind of a total nightmare. Mr Lita was having panic attacks because we found that chipmunks had excavated a city under our porch and destabilized it and he was afraid of rodents getting into our house, my sister had COVID, and Southwest airlines totally fucked up so that we had to book a different flight home days later than we intended. It was altogether a miserable month.

This year, my mom's coming out here and everything was looking good! Mr Lita was doing fine, nothing's wrong with the house, etc.

Except, we just found out his dad has stage 4 pancreatic cancer. This was literally a couple days ago so we don't have much info yet but his parents had a friend pass from pancreatic cancer recently and it was only six weeks from her diagnosis to passing. He's already trying to sort out his financial papers and make funeral plans and he hasn't even had a biopsy yet. I believe he intends to only seek palliative or hospice care, which tbh is very reasonable given the extremely short timeline for most people with pancreatic cancer.

The day after we found that out, my kid who has anxiety and emetophobia had her first major panic attack in months because having a cold with a wet cough freaked her out, and is still not quite back to her normal yet. We haven't told the kids about their grandpa's cancer yet.

My mom's coming out to spend the holidays with us next Friday and I'm like gosh!!! How am I gonna make this a fun holiday season for my kids when their grandpa is dying!!! How am I gonna make sure my anxious kid doesn't start having panic attacks about whether she herself might have cancer!!! I don't know if he's going to die in two weeks or a month or six months and I don't know how to plan fun things for my kids with the knowledge that we may have to cancel at any moment if things go south even faster than they already are.

My sister-in-law is on vacation in New Zealand for this entire month so gosh I hope he at least has a month of time so she can get back to see him. He has a biopsy on Tuesday and his first appointment with the oncologist the day after Christmas which seems interminably far away. I feel completely helpless to help my in-laws or my husband right now and I fucking suck at keeping a brave face because i will cry at a moment's notice.

We're going to have to tell the kids tomorrow I think because my brother-in-law is gonna come down and they'll want to get together and so they'll need to know. I know it's better for my kids if I can be calm and confident talking to them about it but I simply cannot have a conversation about this without bawling.

And I wanted to do all this fun stuff with my kids and my mom for Christmas! And I know that my father in law wants my kids to be happy and having fun and not worrying about him! But how am I supposed to do that!! My sister and her family are coming a couple days after Christmas too and idk whether everything will be fine or whether there will be additional drama there. 😩 What do I do if he takes a turn for the worse very rapidly and doesn't even make it through the month?

I kind of hate how this part of it was easier at least when my dad passed away. He was in ill health for a long time and we knew he probably wouldn't be around more than another year but we didn't have a specific terminal outcome for most of that time so it was easy to not think about it too much. Then when he couldn't do dialysis anymore it was basically a very specific timeline and we knew he would not be around more than two weeks from that point. It was awful and I hated it but at least we knew.