#if you read this far into the tags i think you should get a cookie

[endlessthxxghts]

Biology

“Uncle”!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 5.4k

Summary: Joel hurt his back at work, so you've been helping him around the house until he heals.

Content/Warnings: able-bodied, female sex anatomy, and inherently fem!reader. No description of reader, everything is neutral (ex. “your bottoms,” “the curve of you” — nothing is specific in the way “you” are described). Age gap (reader early 20s, Joel in 50s). EXPLICIT MATERIAL PRESENT. HEED THE WARNINGS. WEIRD boundaries are crossed…you're not blood-related to Joel, but you were raised like you were. You call him “uncle.” Pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, etc.). Pussy pronouns (she). Innocent touches until it isn't. Sexual tension galore. Slight dub-con. Icky Joel. Icky reader. Pussy grinding. Dirty talk. Slight degradation (“bitch” is used only once). Multiple orgasms. P in V unprotected. Reader is on top. Lots of teasing about the nature of yours and Joel’s relationship. If there’s anything that should be up here but I missed or I made any improper tags, please let me know!

A/N: Hi, my loves! This is slightly different than what you’re used to coming from me… All I can say is, you’ve read the warnings! Don’t bite if it is not your flavor! But for those who do like, I really hope you enjoy! And to my love @strang3lov3, thank you for prompting this and encouraging this side of my brain to finally stop hiding in the shadows. And thank you for your eyes on this and the mood board as well. I love you.🩶

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“Hey, hon, when you headin’ over to uncle Joel’s?”

You glance at the timer on the oven. “In about ten minutes after these cookies cool. Need something from me?”

“Can ya grab my toolbox before ya leave? Forgot it there the other day,” he replies. “Figured you could get it since you’re already goin’ there today.”

“Sure thing. It’s not the heavy one, is it? Because I don’t know if that old man’s back is ready for a heavy lift like that yet.” The timer on the oven beeps. You slide on your oven mitts to pull the tray out. “Made two batches by the way. How many you want? I’m taking some to Uncle’s, too.” 

About a week ago, Joel had a contracting accident. Some newbie wasn’t watching the older man’s back as Joel climbed up a wobbly ladder, and the next moment, Joel’s footing slipped. He landed right on his lower back, a piece of wood perched on the ground, sitting at just the right spot on the floor to render him immobile. Tommy, Joel’s younger brother, and your father, his best friend since before you were born, are the only two Joel trusts to get the job done perfectly, so Joel put them two in charge until he heals. 

Bed rest, the doctor had ordered Joel, for at least three weeks. It’s been one so far, but with you offering to be his nurse — one that forces him to stay in bed unless he needs to eat or use the restroom — he thinks he just might be back to work by next week. If you’ll let him, that is. 

“No, it’s the small one, hon, you got it,” your father reassures you. He lovingly slaps his growing belly as the trays hit the kitchen counter. “Y’know, darlin’, ever since you moved back, I’ve been gainin’ some weight. Can’t imagine what you’re doin’ t’ Joel over there.”

Your lip pulls up in a smirk. “Joel is in good hands, y’know. And technically, I don’t have to leave you any,” you say with a challenging brow, pulling the cookie trays out of his reach. 

“No, no, I’m not sayin’ that,” your father’s eyebrows raise in worry. His daily cookie is very important to him. “You can leave me like… five… or six.” 

“I’m just gonna leave you a whole batch. The six are gonna be gone before I even leave the house,” you tell your father as his hand subconsciously reaches for the cookie tray. 

He scoffs, “Ya have no faith in me.”

“So what’s in your hand already?”

“Whatever,” he mumbles, walking away with a mouthful of warm cookie dough and melted milk chocolate chips. 

“Uh huh,” you yell back. “Gonna be leaving in just a sec. I’ll see you later.”

It takes less than ten minutes to get to your uncle’s house. You unlock the door using the spare key he gave you as a teenager, and immediately, nurse mode is activated. 

“Uncle Joel!” You yell, exasperated. He turns around from his place in the kitchen, painfully slow. He’s going to make his back worse. “What do you think you’re doing?” You place the fresh cookies on his dining table along with your keys. You cross your arms angrily for good measure. 

“My coffee’s cold. I was warmin’ it up,” he huffs, annoyed.

“Bed, please.” Your hands find his waist, and you guide him back to his room. “You know I’m here around this time. You didn’t wanna call me first to see where I was?”

You ease him in a sitting position at the edge of his bed. He grunts as his ass meets the mattress. He grumbles his response. “Need to start gettin’ back to everythin’ independently, y’know that, don’tcha?”

“Is your memory going with your back, too, unc?” 

“‘Scuse me?” He looks at you incredulously. 

“Three weeks were the doctor’s orders. Not one,” you tell him, putting your foot down. 

He lays himself down with another wince at the motion, no acknowledgement to your words. God, he’s so stubborn. 

“I’ll go make you a fresh cup,” you tell him, feeling sympathetic for the man. His work is his life, and it’s not going to get any easier with age. 

Making your way back to his kitchen, you wash out the coffee pitcher, replace the grounds and the filter, and do some light cleaning as you wait for the bitter, brown liquid to brew. 

It’s only been five minutes since you returned to the kitchen, and the painful moans and groans from his bedroom have only gotten louder. You search around the place and find the heat pack you bought a few days ago and pop it in the microwave. You grab some pain meds, fill up a glass of water, and just in time, the microwave sings to you, telling you your contents are ready. 

Ignoring the coffee for a moment, you make your way back to Joel’s bedroom. His eyes are closed, but his entire body is tensed up in pain. Poor guy. You knock at his door to catch his attention before entering. “Unc?”

One eye peels open. “Yes, nurse?”

“Funny.” A sarcastic laugh leaves your throat. “Come take these.”

He makes no move to get up. 

You set the painkillers and the water on his bedside table, the heat pack wedged underneath your armpit. You start to reach for Joel to help him up, but he stops you. “I got it,” he grunts. You let him have this win. 

You hand him the glass of water first, then the pills. He swallows the painkillers in one big gulp, swallowing down the rest of the water in another. He eyes the heat pack in your arm. 

“Do you want-”

“Yes,” he says immediately, reaching for the soft warmth. 

“Lay down first, I’ll put it underneath you.”

Without another word, he positions himself. His body jerks when your soft hand slips underneath his back, pushing him to lift a little while you slide the heat underneath. “This okay?”

“Mhm,” he forces out, eyes clamped shut. It’s not okay, you think. 

“How would you feel on your stomach?” you suggest. 

“Dunno. Never tried.”

“Well, then.” You set the heat pack down, and it’s your turn to crawl, uninvited, into his bed. You walk on your knees towards the opposite, unoccupied side, adjusting the pillows in a way you think might be the most comfortable. This isn’t your first rodeo dealing with an old man’s back; you’ve got your dad. This is, however, your first rodeo dealing with an old man more stubborn than a screaming goat not getting his way. “Come on.”

“No.” 

“What do you mean no?” 

“That ain’t gonna be comfortable.”

“How do you know?”

“I jus’ do.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and take a deep breath. “I swear to God. I will flip your ass over myself if I have to.”

“You’re bossy,” he spits.

“So you’ve said.” 

Not giving him a chance to prepare, you hook your one hand at his side and your other on his hip, and you pull him towards you. It doesn’t fully flip him over, but it does the trick in getting him to finish the rest of the action himself — albeit, with a very strained yelp from the back of his throat. 

He groans for a few minutes more as you adjust some flat pillows underneath his belly and then prop the lukewarm heating back right at the base of his spine. You’ll probably have to heat it up in ten minutes again, but it’ll do for now. You stay in your spot for a minute, and already his pained noises begin to subside. 

“Better?” You know it is. You just want him to admit it. 

And when a single huff with zero protests from the grumpy man reverberates around the room, you know you’ve won this round. 

“I’ll go get your coffee now,” you hum. 

A soft rasp of your name has you spinning back around as you reach the room’s threshold. 

“Hm?”

“Thanks,” he tells you. 

“It’s what I’m here for, unc.”

You put his fresh cup of coffee in a thermos this time. You can’t imagine how often he’ll get up being in this position, but at least the freshness will be there with every sip he does end up taking. 

“How’s it going?” You ask him as you set his coffee nearby. You feel the heat pack on his spine, and it’s as you called it to be by now: room temperature. “Want me to reheat it?” 

“‘M okay,” he replies, voice groggy. He must’ve fallen asleep. 

“Okay.” You stand there for a moment. You can tell the heat helped, but his body isn’t entirely relaxed. He’s still tense, as if a nerve or something is being pinched. 

You recall your memory from a while ago before you moved back with your dad. Your brother, who is a mixed martial arts athlete, had a sparring session that hurt his back, nearly in the same area as Joel. He had you running his massage gun over his muscles nearly every night for a month straight. “It needs to uncoil somehow,” he told you. An idea crosses your mind then. 

You saunter to Joel’s en suite bathroom in search of some type of lubricant. Sitting loud and proud on the center of the bathroom counter is a little bottle of Equate’s Personal Liquid Lubricant. Your brain falters for a second, the bottle of lube throwing you off your original plan. That is absolutely not the kind of lubricant you were looking for. Shaking away the image from your mind, you bend down to look in the cabinets underneath. Bingo, a bottle of Aveeno body lotion. This should do. 

You invite yourself onto his bed for the second time today. “Let me give you a massage.”

“What?” His head turns to you now, utterly confused. He definitely heard you wrong, he thinks. 

“Let me give you a massage,” you repeat. “It’ll help.”

A massage actually does sound nice right now. But you’ve been nothing but bossy this last week while Joel lays here helplessly. He’s bored. And he’s had enough. “It ain’t gonna help.”

“How do you know?”

“I jus’ do.”

Jesus. Haven’t you had this conversation before? You mentally slap your forehead. Again, leaving him no other options, you reach for his flannel atop his shoulders and begin to pull them down. 

“Hey, hey, wait, now what in the hell-” He tries to stifle back a laugh as he wriggles in your hold, trying to playfully push you off without hurting himself more in the process. 

You quickly release his clothes, hands up in surrender where he can see them. You’re just realizing now just how forward your action must’ve been. “How am I gonna massage you-” 

The embarrassment written all over your face has Joel tearing up as he tries to hold his wheezing laugh in. With his eyebrow quirked at you, he responds, “If you wanted me naked, kiddo-”

“Jesus, ew! Really?” An unbearable heat spreads across your cheeks. Your eyes are downcast, looking everywhere else but him. “It- it’ll be better if I can directly touch-”

Only then do you feel the bed shaking with his laughter. He’s fucking with you. And here you were, about to offer something that would relieve a whole lot of pain. “Oh, fuck you,” you scoff, pulling yourself up and making your way off of his bed. 

“No, okay, wait,” he laughs, trying to catch his breath. “Jus’ messin’ with you, who am I to deny a massage?” He raises his eyebrows once, twice. Still messing with you, seeing how far his taunting with you can go. 

“You’re disgusting,” you deadpan. 

“‘M not the one tryin’ t’ massage her uncle,” Joel says as he attempts to shrug his shoulders at you.

“I’m gonna leave now.” One foot makes it to the ground before Joel speaks again. 

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, ya can’t take a joke? I’m only messin’ around. Come back. Gonna leave me hangin’? In pain? C’mon, nurse.” His tone falls softer, sweeter. You can hear the shit-eating grin in his words. And, fuck, why is it making you heat even further, in places beyond your face? In places you shouldn’t be?

“Fine,” you relent. “Stop saying weird shit then.” You still can’t look at him. Not after the way your body decided to react in the shift of energy. An abrupt shift of energy, as far as you can tell. 

He’s your dad’s best friend. Your uncle, for crying out loud. Not by blood, but still. There’s never been a feeling beyond that. Sure, you’ve had your silly little school girl crush on him during your young teenage years, but that was your hormones being your hormones. You grew out of them. Even your own father can’t deny the conventional attractiveness of his best friend. 

Plus, suggestive commentary is bound to make anyone feel hot. It’s basic biology. Your response is nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. At least, that’s what you convince yourself of when you climb back into your uncle’s— no, into Joel’s bed, trying to ignore the way your panties stick dutifully against your throbbing core.

Joel leans onto his side as you get yourself situated, unbuttoning the bottom half of his flannel, so you can flip up the bottom to reach his lower back. After the bottom half of the buttons are undone, he lays back on his front. “Here,” he calls your name. “Jus’ lift it up from the bottom.”

You scoot closer to him, standing on your knees, and you reach over to grab the hem of his flannel, pulling it up as gently as possible, exposing just enough to be able to reach the irritated areas. You frown at what you see. Inflamed skin, purples and yellows dancing all across his lower back, forcing him away from the very thing he lives for. He may have been a stubborn bitch this entire week, but that doesn’t stop the sympathy you feel for the man. 

You put some of the lotion in your hand, rubbing it between your two palms to warm it up a little. You place your hand on the side closest to you first, moving in circular motions and adjusting your pressure ever so often. “Let me know when the pressure is good.”

So far he hasn’t said much, a slight groan here, an exhale there. You feel a knot as you move lower, so you increase your pressure. You’re met with a literal moan, and you swear you have to bite back your own vocal response. “Fuck,” he sucks in a sharp breath. “Yeah, jus’ like that, ‘s perfect, darlin’.” 

“Okay,” you squeak, your thighs clenching together to attempt any kind of relief to the heat between your legs. 

After a few more passes over the area — and a few more indulgent, harder presses of your palm to pull more angelic sounds from him — you switch to the other side. Except, at this angle, you don’t really have as good an angle as you did before. Your leg swings over his ass, bracketing him in between your thighs, before you can even register the move your body just made. A soft gasp falls from your lips as you feel the new angle you’ve just given yourself. 

“Joel?” You call sweetly. Innocently.”I- I’m not hurting you or anything, am I?”

Hurting? No. Putting him through Hell? Close enough. 

Joel has done many questionable things in his lifetime. Getting involved with taken (married or otherwise) women, couples who wanted a third… Joel has lived through it all. Mainly in his younger years, but nevertheless. He has done and seen many things. But none of these things have ever included getting a fucking hard on for a girl — a woman? — he practically had a hand in raising. You call him uncle, for crying out loud. 

His physical response means nothing. It’s basic biology. The tender yet skilled touch of your warm hands directly against his even hotter skin, lighting every single nerve ending on fire, forcing the blood to course through his veins, to make its way down south— 

“Christ-” he snarls as you practically sit on him. His mouth shuts instantly as his eyes shoot open. He didn’t mean for that to come out. “Y-yeah,” he corrects. “‘M alright.” 

“Just- just let me know,” you tell him. He can hear the shake in your voice. He can tell biology is doing a number on you, too, based on your tone alone, if the heat engulfing his rear as you try your best not to make contact with it isn’t enough to go by. 

He focuses on his breathing as best he can as your hands push slightly past his jeans, getting underneath the seam of his boxers, and then immediately softening your touch as you run your fingers up his spine, awaking a chill he never knew was possible until now. You rub beyond the exposed area of his lower back, reaching his shoulder blades and entirely up to his shoulders, forcing the flannel to rise with your hands. He’s so broad and warm, and you would absolutely be drooling all over him by now if you weren’t so shocked at how tight his muscles really feel. How has this man not gotten any injuries sooner? How was he still doing all this heavy lifting? You dig the pads of your finger tips further into the thousands of tiny knots you feel, and his body jerks in actual pain this time. 

“God damn, girl,” he snaps. “What are you doin’?” 

“How the fuck do you even function?” You sound genuinely horrified. 

“What-”

“Your shoulders and neck are fucking covered in knots how do you even-” you cut yourself off with a disappointed click of your tongue. “You need to flip over.” 

Fuck. 

“Why?” He asks defensively. 

“I’m gonna break these knots. I need to start from the front.” 

“Ya ain’t gettin’ anywhere near my neck, I swear to God-”

“Quit being stubborn. What did I say earlier? I’m gonna flip you myself if you don’t-”

“Alright, fine, gimme a sec,” he bites. Joel takes a deep breath, at war with himself for how he’s going to handle his next course of action. 

Whatever happens next, there is no avoiding the fact that you will be made aware of the bulging erection between his legs. You can know about it, that’s fine, but the second you make contact, he doesn’t know if he’ll have the strength to control himself. Which is why he rips off the band aid quick. Flipping himself over with you still hovering over him, he tries his best not to touch you. Though, the second he’s comfortable, his focus is on your waist, grabbing you immediately and missing the way your eyes widen at the tenting fabric of his jeans. He pulls you higher up to sit on his lower tummy. 

You squeak out a little gasp as he adjusts you, and fuck it makes the pulsing between his legs even worse. He releases you, bringing his hands back to his sides. 

“Comfortable?” you whisper. You try so hard not to use your voice, worried that it’ll reveal just how turned on you are by this situation you’ve put yourself in. He gives you a single nod, and with that, you lean to grab more lotion. 

The angle you are at forces you to lean the front of your body onto Joel to be able to reach his shoulders. You can feel his body tense underneath you; you can hear his labored breathing as your hands further push away his flannel, working away at each knot. 

You lean forward further, giving yourself the ability to reach just below Joel’s neck. With this action, your hips shift, pressing down against Joel’s belly in a way that sends a sudden jolt of butterflies through your core. Your hands freeze in their movement, breath and fingertips stuttering as your entire face and neck heat up. You sneak a quick glance to Joel, and his eyes are still relaxed. He didn’t notice. 

It takes you a moment to start your movements back up again, but when you do, you can’t help the way you repeat exactly what you did before — allowing yourself another experimental roll of your hips against his soft abdomen. Only this time, you’re way less sly, for the whimper of pleasure you thought you could hide slips right out, right for his sharp ears to take note of. Shit. 

“Y’ alright there?” His eyes are trained on you now; he knows what you just did. Joel sports a quirked eyebrow as he waits for your response. 

“Mhm,” you rush out, ignoring his piercing gaze. 

It takes every ounce of willpower for you to run over the knots in his shoulder again without driving your hips into him, but even the push and pull of your arms is a full body movement, and you feel it. You feel the growing wetness in your core, the growing heartbeat that his bare tummy no doubt can feel now. 

Your body is splayed across him, the warmth of you leaking through your bottoms and onto his hot skin as you pathetically try to play off the fact that you aren’t grinding your wet cunt across him right now. With a rasp of your name, he takes a sharp breath in. “What are ya doin’?” He grunts, pained. Conflicted. 

This is so wrong. But it feels so good. Your arousal — how utterly desperate you are for the older man underneath you — is shone all over your face, brighter than any other feeling of disgust or wrongness you’re trying to convince yourself of. But the internal battle is still there, though, and it forces your hips to come to a full stop. It forces cries of apologies from your lips. It forces regret. 

“I- I’m sorry,” you choke back a sob. “Please, I- this is so wrong, I’m so stupid, uncle, I-” 

God damn it. Joel is too damn hard to deal with this shit now. “Oh, Jesus Christ, will you cut the fuckin’ uncle bullshit?” He finally snaps. His hands spring to life, finding their way up your thighs, tightening once they reach your hips. He forces you to move again. “Ya think I wanna hear that fuckin’ word while you fuckin’ soak me? Huh? While ya rub on me like a fuckin’ bitch in heat?”

“Shit,” you moan, the strength of his hand making the assault against your mound all the more intense. “Joel, please,” you cry, your fingers shaking as you hold onto his chest. 

Your thighs begin to tremble as he maintains a rough pace to your movements, his bed creaking with every shove of your hips against him. His grip on you is one of steel, the pads of his fingers digging into your flesh, no doubt leaving tiny bruises as a reminder of today’s actions. 

He is fucking covered in you — the slick of your desire pooling through your bottoms and into his skin, making each grind smoother. He licks his lips at this, his eyes dark as he drinks you in from above; your own eyes glossy and a sheen of sweat along your skin. “Look at ya, darlin’,” he murmurs, voice low enough to send a fresh wave of arousal pouring from your hole. “Fuckin’ soakin’ me, baby. Needed me that bad, did ya? Was tryin’ t’ tell ya earlier,” he grunts, “Y’know ya just had to ask.” A lazy smirk pulls across his lip. 

You let out a whimper at his words, your hips finally rolling alongside his own guidance, instinctively searching for more friction. “Atta girl,” he groans, “That’s it, fuck- makin’ a fuckin’ mess a’ me, darlin’.” 

You’re panting now, the rhythm and pressure mixed with the filth of his Southern drawl ignites every single nerve ending throughout your body. He watches you with a dark intensity, the brown of his eyes replaced with pure black lust, his eyes unable to stray away from the pleasurable desperation filling your features. 

“Gonna come like this, sweetheart?” He taunts, driving you into him even harder. 

“Mmm- my God, yeah- yes,” you cry out, eyes rolling back as the coil in your belly finally tightens, your breathing ragged as needy moans escape your lips. 

With a final roll of your hips and the utterance of a that’s my girl, the coil finally snaps, pleasure crashing over you, coursing through your veins as you come all over him, your slick unable to stay within the limits of your clothes, leaking and dripping down the sides of him and onto the mattress below. Your thighs convulse around his waist, his hold on you continuing your thrusts, dragging out your orgasm until your own hands find his and rip him away from you.

“Ya ain’t done yet, sugar,” Joel gruffs, grabbing the globes of your ass cheeks and dragging you down, letting you feel his ignored and now raging erection. 

“Never said I was,” you purr, a soft moan blessing his ears at the feel of his bulge against your ass. He can feel your smirk against his chest. 

Body still trembling, Joel lifts your ass in the air, sliding your bottoms down over the curve of your body. The stickiness of your panties pulls off with a wet squelch, the cool air of the room mingling with the wet warmth of your bare pussy, the stark contrast forcing chills to run through your veins. 

“God,” he murmurs as you give a little wiggle of your ass in the air. “Pretty as a peach, huh, darlin’?” He guides you lower, pushing you down onto his bulge. The hardness of him beneath you immediately sends a fiery need to your core. Your hands move on their own as you pull your body up, reaching for the buttons and zipper of his jeans, undoing them with ease despite the eager shake of your hand. You pull the jeans down just enough to let his cock spring free, thick and angry and leaking. 

“Oh, fuck,” you swallow your gasp. “God, I need you so bad,” you whine, already lifting up to line the tip of him to your swollen cunt. 

You sink down with a breathless moan, your head flying back as your hands grip onto his tummy to keep you from buckling. 

Joel’s breathing stutters, his moans filling the air as you practically choke his cock. “Shit- so fuckin- fuckin’ tight.” His hands find their home on the meat of your ass, holding you tight, grounding himself from coming like a damn teenager.

You move slowly at first, savoring the way he feels inside of you, how big he is. God, you don’t think you’ve ever taken anything quite as long and as thick as him. Your heart skips a beat at that, knowing that he’s ruined you for anyone else. 

It isn’t long before the raw need takes over, and you move faster, hips rolling back and forth as you ride him, the wet sound of skin against skin as you alternate to a bounce ever so often. 

Despite the risk of hurting his back even more, he can’t stop himself from gripping you tighter, his nails digging into your flesh as his hips buck up into you, starting their own rhythm, meeting every one of your thrusts. The sensation is overwhelming with the size of him; it’s a perfect mix of pleasure and pain, mixing sweet whines of ecstasy with whines of overstimulation, and it’s the best music to have ever graced his ears. 

“Look at ya,” he grunts. “Fuckin’ made for this, weren’t ya? Fuckin’ made for takin’ this cock, huh, sweetheart?” 

You nod weakly at his words. They send a flutter down your belly to your pussy, and his mouth is all it takes to send you to your second brink of collapse — your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you move, as he drives himself into you without abandon. 

Every thrust pushes you further to the edge, the sting of the stretch, the sensation of being so full — it’s almost too much to bear. He can hear it in the way your cries change. It’s becoming too much. 

“Y’ can take it, sweetheart, almost there,” he grunts. His hands take over in guiding your movements, urging you faster, harder, bringing you both to the cliff’s edge. 

“C’mon, baby, can feel her squeezin’ me, know she wanna come, baby. Breathe, doll, jus’ let go,” he rasps, his words coming in staggered.

The wet tightness of your walls, both the feel and the sound, causes Joel to fall first — a low, guttural groan filling the room as he fills you with his hot, thick spend.

The sensation of him pulsing inside you, unloading everything he’s worth, sends you over your edge, your pussy clenching around his cock as you come, the sensation rippling through you, shredding your vocal cords as you scream out in pleasure. 

Everything goes dark for you, nothing but the fuzzy sound of Joel’s sweet praises at the top of your head as he guides you through your come down. 

“Did so fuckin’ good f’ me, darlin’,” he murmurs. “Sweet girl.”

For an asshole, who knew he could be so sweet? 

You roll off of Joel as soon as your heart steadies, your entire body on fire from all the exertion. You can feel Joel’s body stiffen as you use him for support. His back is killing him right now.

A few moments pass as your eyes slowly start to close, but the deep gruff of your name stops you from dozing. 

You turn your head to the man beside you. “Yes?” 

For the first time today, it’s Joel who can’t make eye contact with you. “Can you, uh… can you-” he clears his throat, trying to rid himself of his awkwardness. “Can you warm up the heat pack again?” 

Your smirk lifts your cheek before you can even try to stop it. “Come again?” 

He lets out a frustrated huff. And he can’t turn away from you. His back is killing him right now. “My back-”

“Yeah, what about your back?” 

“You fuckin’ little shit-”

You giggle as you flip onto your side, your hand holding your head up to get a better look at him. “Your back is hurting, baby? Need me to get the heat pack for you, hm?” 

He doesn’t respond. He just has the deepest, most grumpiest scowl known to man on display. 

“Oh, come on. You need my help, is that it? Need to hear you say it, unc.” You emphasize the last syllable of your sentence, a belly laugh threatening to escape you. 

Oh, two can play at that game. “Yeah, baby, I need your help. I need the help from my beautiful, beautiful niece, hm? My beautiful, needy niece whose pussy gets all soaked jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout me, huh? Gets all wet and needy thinkin’ ‘bout her uncle-”

Your resolve finally snaps, your eyes clamping shut as you cover your ears, loud la la la’s coming from your mouth as you ungraciously roll yourself off of his bed. “Enough, fine! Fine! Fuckin’ nasty,” you groan as you make your way to the kitchen. 

“‘M not the one who started it, sweetheart,” Joel says, a triumphant smile plastered across his cocky face. 

“I made you cookies by the way,” you yell after a beat. “Want one?” 

Joel’s hand reaches for his belly. He doesn’t need one, that’s for sure. “Yeah,” he responds not a second later. 

You come back to his bedroom, heat pack in one hand, no cookie in the other. You hand him the heat pack. You make him adjust it himself. 

“Where’s the cookie?” He asks, a tinge of impatience on his tongue. 

“Oh, I thought you were gonna come down and get it.” 

He looks at you incredulously. 

“I just figured you wanted to start being more independent and all. Given how strenuous you were being a few moments ago,” you offer with a faux innocence.  

“I swear to fuckin’ God, when I get my hands on you-”

“Your hands on me? Yeah? When?” You start making your way out of his bedroom. “Come get me if you wanna show me a lesson. Know you been dying to all week.” 

If he can fuck you the way he did, maybe full-time bed rest isn’t what Joel needs. He needs to stretch and move around; he needs to activate his muscles, especially being on the older side. It really is basic biology.

I would absolutely love to hear what you guys thought of this! Any and all your love and commentary truly keeps me going and motivated even when the writer’s block is at its strongest. Wouldn’t be here without you all. I have so much love in my heart for you! Talk to y’all soon🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

Leaf divider by @saradika-graphics

[nathaslosthershit]

Media Interrogation [Part 2] (LN4)

(Read part 1 here!)

Summary: He had prayed the media would leave his newfound ‘friend’ out of their questions, only focusing on the race. But Lando Norris would soon see he wasn't so lucky.  A/N: I don't know how Twitch works so excuse the poorly explained streaming things.

A little less than two weeks after Lando had met his new neighbor, they had spent any time they could together, and any time they couldn’t they were texting and calling. It was exciting, they weren’t dating per se, still trying to get to know each other before they jumped into anything, but this newfound friendship had been great for both of them. Slowly, Lando had been introducing her to some of his friends, and with all the new faces, she didn’t feel half as lonely as she used to. 

It was wonderful.

He had warned her about the stream, leaving the details of him turning bright red, giggling, and Max admitting that Lando had called her his “cute neighbor” out. But, of course, after she spent far to long going through the #landonorris tag on various social media sites, she had found a clip of the interaction. Seeing how giddy he was about it, even after meeting her for only a minute, made her giddy as well, happy to know that it seems her feelings weren’t one sided.

He had invited her to the race, being as it was at Silverstone, but the thought of going there and meeting new people and being seen by the media so soon after her and Lando just met made her nervous, so she politely declined. 

Although he was a bit upset, he understood her reasoning. 

Before the race, Lando was with Oscar giving various interviews, with mostly race related questions. ‘How was the car feeling?’, ‘you think you guys can give Max a run for his money this weekend?’, etc. It was easy and he wasn’t worried about intrusive questions.

Until they opened it up to the fans.

When they said they’d take fan questions, Lando began to sweat. Beside him, Oscar let out a laugh, knowing what the first question was bound to be.

“Lando, it seems you made friends with you “cute neighbor” while streaming, have you guys talked more?” one of the fans asked.

Shit.

He probably should have warned her this would happen but, maybe it was wishful thinking, he hadn’t expected to be asked about it. And maybe his cute neighbor wasn’t even watching. 

“Uhhh” he said as he let out an awkward laugh, “Yeah, we have talked a bit more. The cookies were really good so I’ve been trying to get the recipe.” Lies, he hadn’t asked for the recipe, he just wanted her to make the cookies for him again.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Another fan yelled out.

There was a beat of silence from Lando, causing fans to laugh at his awkwardness around the situation. Oscar, now feeling bad for his teammate, jumped in.

“He shared some of the cookies with me too. He wasn’t kidding when he said they were really good. Might have to ask her to make me a batch.” Oscar jokes. 

Seeing as he wasn’t going to answer the girlfriend question, which wasn’t even a proper question as the fan just yelled it out instead of waiting to be picked, the interviewer moved on. 

He really hoped she wasn’t watching this.

She was totally watching this and enjoying every second.

It felt nice to see Lando blushing so profusely at the mention of her, which made her feel better for also blushing profusely when he talked about her.

Since she saw the stream, she had noticed he definitely had a bit of a crush on her, but she didn’t know how deep it went. If it was a tiny crush that was bound to fade as they became closer, or if this closeness was going to lead to an even bigger crush. Only a few weeks into their friendship though, and she had already fallen fast and hard.

She couldn’t do anything. She'd never do anything, even though she so badly wanted to. All her new friends were Lando’s, if he wasn’t as serious as she hoped about his feelings, it would crush her. She wouldn’t be able to stay friends with him and in turn would lose all the new friends she had made. 

So she vowed to not make the first move.

Eventually, three months had gone by and the pair only became more inseparable. Instead of planning mini vacations and trips between races, Lando always tried to get home so he could see his favorite neighbor, who he now knew he had massive feelings for.

She had started work and it was going great! Her worries about being alone if she lost Lando went away as she made more non-Norris-acquired friends. 

The two had also graduated to an even deeper level of intimacy. They weren’t sleeping together, or straight up kissing. But holding hands, cuddling, kisses on the cheek or forehead, were all normal for the pair. Sure it seemed so childish to dance around their feelings at their grown age but it's all they could do for now.

Baking had become a new hobby as well. Before moving, she couldn’t really say she was much of a baker, only doing it when it came to birthdays or bake sales. But with Lando becoming increasingly more obsessed with her cookies, she had started to branch out with other flavors, even throwing in muffins or a pie. 

She had just finished a new recipe her mom sent her, which were divine, when she knocked on Lando’s door, flashbacks to the first time they met those few months ago going through her head.

Lando, also like those few months ago, had been streaming when he got a knock on his door. Smiling to himself as he already knew who it would be, which the fans most certainly caught, he quickly excused himself to go open it. When he saw her there, he immediately pulled her into a hug.

“I’ve missed you.” He mumbled into her neck.

“You saw me yesterday.” She laughed, happy to know he missed her as much as she did him.

“Can’t blame me for wanting to see my favorite girl all the time.” He replied.

“Favorite girl, huh? It's an honor. I don’t know what I did to deserve such a title.” She teased.

“Your cookies, of course!” He said as he pulled back, when she shot him a look, he continued, “and your wonderful personality, and how great of company you are.”

“That's more like it. Speaking of, I tried a new recipe and, not to toot my own horn, these are the best yet.” She said as she grabbed the container of cookies from her bag.

“Yes! Thank goodness I was beginning to experience withdrawal. I am streaming right now, they are always asking about you since the- anyway, could I do a taste test? You can join me, I think the chat would love it. I would love it. But you don’t have to if-” He began to ramble, clearly feeling awkward at almost admitting just how much she is brought up on his streams.

“No, that sounds great! I definitely join.” She immediately regretted the words the moment they left her mouth but the look on Lando’s face stopped her from taking it back. He has lit up in a way she hadn’t seen and all she wanted to do was forever make him light up that way.

He quickly pulled her to his streaming room, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling her onto the screen. “I’ve returned with cookies, oh and of course a special guest. Guys, please don’t be weird. Be normal or I'll end the stream.” He joked, but also prayed that his fans would for once listen and try not to embarrass him for their own entertainment. He knew they wouldn’t listen though.

Immediately after saying that, someone donated and got their message read out loud,

‘Are you the cute girl that gave him cookies?’

“Uh I don’t know. That depends. How many cute girls give you cookies, Lan?” She teased.

“Oh hundreds, I am constantly drowning in sweet baked goods. My trainer hates me now.” He teased back.

“Then I guess I should take these back, don’t want to make your trainer even more mad.”

“Over my dead body. Seriously, you’d have to pry these out of my cold dead hands. Anyway, this is a taste test of a new recipe, as was explained to me ‘it's the best yet’. You guys can’t eat them obviously so I’ll try to be descriptive.” 

After one bite, Lando started moaning in a way that was uncomfortable for everyone except him. Her face had never felt hotter at the sounds he was making and she was far too scared to check to see if her face was as red as it felt.

Do you hear him make those noises a lot?

“Alright! I told you if you guys made it weird I’d end it, so you lost your privileges. Goodbye everyone, think about what you did.” Lando was kidding, his fans knew it, but it was a pretty crazy question to ask. Not that the chat cared.

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting all that.” She said once he turned off the stream.

“I know, I’m sorry they get like that.” He replied, feeling bad that he hadn’t explained well enough what she should expect. 

“No, I thought they would be worse to be honest, I meant the moans you were making from my cookies.” “Oh come on they weren’t that crazy, and the cookie was amazing, I had to.”

“Lando, those noises were nothing short of erotic, I was worried how far you were going to go if you had another bite.” She teased.

They both laughed and after a few seconds, a beat of silence fell over them. As they looked into each other’s eyes, the energy in the room shifted. Finally, Lando spoke up.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked.

“Please,” She replied.

Explosions, fireworks, sparks, whatever you want to call it, they felt it. It was so cheesy but it was so electric, they couldn’t help but feel like they did in the movies.

After a much needed breather, before going in for more, Lando asked, “Let me take you out, properly, please? Like an actual date.”

“Only if it's not a seafood place, I’m allergic to fish.” 

“Good God, I’m gonna fall in love with you.”

[wonustars]

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖶𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖧𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖧𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 (Teaser)

𖥔 pairing: kim mingyu x reader 𖥔 wordcount: ~15k+ (this teaser: 599) 𖥔 genre: fake marriage au!, fluff, angst, smut (18+ mdni)

𖥔 reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated ♡! tumblr is based on reblogs not likes, and they help writers like me to get better reach. thank you!

𖥔 summary: you and mingyu (a former mafia member and also your ex-fiancè's former best friend) are forced into witness protection. All you’ve been told is that you’re meant to act like a happily married couple. Pushed into a cookie cutter house, and a suburban neighbourhood far from the city, where people bring you baked goods on your first day and partake in small talk, it’s all foreign and new. There’s so many things you don’t know about him, but for a man who’s only known violence and all things illegal, he’s somehow the perfect house husband.

𖥔 tags: fake relationship/marriage!au, non-idol!au, mafia!au, afab!reader, norbert is readers cat (more tags when the fic is posted) 𖥔 release date: may 14 or 15, 2024 𖥔 author's note: if i end up posting after the predicted dates plz do not crucify me 🙏 ik a lot of people have been waiting for this one so i'd thought i post a teaser since i have 2-3 chapters left till its finally finished. thank you to all of those who sent in their ideas and to those who've shown so much interest in this story :") i really hope it lives up to your expectations!! see u soonest - anna ♡ !!!!

𖥔 keep reading

The first few days at the new house were uneventful and awkward to say the least.

Mingyu spent the majority of his time doing random housework, he thought that if he had to live here for a year, then he should at least try and make it as “homely" as possible. 

Many of the women in the neighbourhood had deemed Mingyu as their new eye-candy. Despite the fact that he wore his pink shibu inu apron while tending to the garden at the front of the house. They would especially make sure to take multiple laps around the block during their group walks, drooling over his toned muscles as he began to plant an array of flowers on the lawn. 

Mingyu isn’t very observant when it comes to people finding him attractive, believe it or not. He automatically assumes that the wives of Bridgewater just wanted to get to know the new couple that just moved in. 

“What a beautiful garden you have!” one of the wives called out from the sidewalk, her eyes glinting with appeal. 

“Thank you, It’s not done just yet, but I think we’re finally getting somewhere,” Mingyu smiles bashfully. 

“Of course dear. You know if you’re ever free you should come and take a look at my garden,” another lady giggles, her innuendo flying right over Mingyu’s head.

The group of fourty plus year old women all giggle like school girls as they watch his face turn red with flattery. Mingyu scratches the back of his head awkwardly as they bid him good-bye, curious as to what they group of women thought was so funny about him taking a look at their gardens. It’s all just a bunch of flowers isn’t it? 

The sound of your car’s engine brings Mingyu out of his thoughts, his gardening tools forgotten by the piles of dirt he left. You lug Nortbert’s carrier as you walk into the house, acknowledging his presence with a small nod. His pink aprons raises a few questions in your head, but you decide not to comment on it. 

“Oh hey you’re back, is he ok?” Mingyu asks, motioning to the carrier you hold in your hand. 

Halting your steps, your eyes widen as you realize that he’s talking to you, there wasn’t much conversation between the two of you since you’ve moved in. so you found it a little surprising that he’s asking about Norbert, the cat who tends to show lots of aggression towards him. 

“Morning. He’s ok, I just took him for his check up at the vet,” you shrug before entering the house. 

You leave the conversation there. There wasn’t much else to say anyways, and you had a lot of work to get to before the end of the day. If Mingyu feels a little bit ignored by your actions, he doesn’t make it noticeable, going back to working on his garden. 

From across the yard, neither you of Mingyu notice Seungkwan’s looming figure as he and Vernon enjoy the Friday morning sun. He watches the two of you from his porch with a quirked eyebrow. They’re awfully awkward for newly weds, he thinks to himself. 

“Nonie, don’t you think they’re a little weird?” Seungkwan nudges his boyfriend, who’s mumbling to himself while Vernon reads his book. 

Vernon quirks up, moving his headphones a little to hear what his boyfriend has to say, “huh? Sorry I was reading, what’d you say?” 

“Nothing, go back to your book love,” Seungkwan mumbles, his eyes still darting back and forth from your descending figure and Mingyu, his suspicions spiking once more.

[gghostwriter]

Hiya! :D

Since askbox is open, may I please order some slight hurt-comfort based off of "From Eden" by Hozier? Harnessing the pure longing this song emanates to me fr.

Something like non-BAU!reader getting hurt by an unsub during a case (non-lethal but it does require a stitch or two) and spencer gets abnormally worried about this one person among the group of victims (maybe serial bank robberies) and when the team notices it and ask him about it he reveals to them that they're actually his roommate?

something romantic-leaning; I just like the idea of him standing outside the hospital room door [OMG LIKE THE SONG] because the doctors told him to wait before he could go inside sitting there like 🥺 "My roommate :(" and getting embarassed when the team calls reader his partner; "You're so worried it's almost like you're dating." sort of feel

Sorry if this is long btw! I tend to go all out on ideas! Pronouns are up to you though, feel free to change anything to your liking as well! :]

Thanks for reading! :D

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Trope: Roommates; Comfort, Fluff, Angst w.c: 1.2k A/N: There's so much interpretation for 'From Eden by Hozier' and I had a challenging time trying to capture which meaning I wanted to encapsulate. This is also by far the longest request I've written and honestly this took a life of its own but I still hope you like it! Main masterlist

Eden. // Spencer Reid

The monotone droll in the bank was white noise in your life that you learned to slowly hate. Day in, day out it was the same thing—customers withdrawing, depositing, and claiming loans. You liked numbers, that was how you ended up as a manager, but the cookie cutter business smile you had to keep on your face was a con you wish to part from. 

You sighed. Your roommate turned secret crush, Dr. Spencer Reid, had warned you about the serial robberies that had happened within the state of Virginia and Washington. He advised you to be vigilant and if possible, to keep your phone within your reach and you easily agreed having heard some of the macabre cases he’d been involved in.

You just didn’t think it would happen today.

“Get down on the ground!” A man’s voice echoed throughout the lobby, followed by a series of gunshots.

Spencer’s voice played in your head as if he was a lighthouse guiding you out from the panic. Hide. Don’t panic. Press the hidden alarm and dial my number.

You thanked your past self for programming his contact on speed dial. Volume down and no words uttered, you hid the phone inside your blouse hoping to not get caught.

“You there!” One of the masked men caught sight of you. “Outside. Now!”

You nodded, averting your eyes to show submission. Another tactic from Spencer.

Wishing the call picked up the trio of robbers voices, you stayed facing down on the lobby surround by the rest of the hostages.

Spencer, please. Please, get my message.

Just a few miles away, tension was high in the BAU conference room. The round table littered with folders and cooling coffee mugs. The team was running on a mixture of caffeine and sheer will to solve the serial bank robber case, tagged as priority by Strauss, that had been terrorizing states for a span of months. 

Spencer raked his already unruly hair. So far, the profile was incomplete. They knew there were three in the team but with varying heights and builds in various crime scenes, even that was shaky. What they were sure of was the sick game of Russian roulette they would play with their hostages, always with one bullet in a revolver and who ever is unlucky, dies with a hole between their brows and the remaining hostages are pistol whipped to unconsciousness. 

He knew he should stay objective. He knew that but how could he, when who he considers as his secret flower was at risk every second the unsubs were at large? It was his mission to keep you safe and the chances of you being caught in the line of fire heightened each second.

Vibration from his pocket brought him out of his musings. 

It was you. Right there and then, Spencer knew it was anything but good. You never called during work hours and with the last conversation between you having been about safety, it had settled in his stomach that the worst reality had come to fruition.

He picked up without saying a word, straining his ears to hear any distinguishable background noise. That was when he heard it—the authoritative, cocky voice yelling at you to come outside. His heart dropped. 

No. No. No. Anything but this.

“Sir, we just got a call,” Penelope rushed into the conference room. “There’s a live hostage taking at—”

“—Commerce Bank. 125 Independence Boulevard,” Reid interjected.

The profilers shared a look.

“That’s right,” Penelope muttered.

Morgan raised an eyebrow at him as he hurriedly stood up and collected his belongings. “Wait Reid—” causing him to stop in his tracks and turn to face back at the team. “—How’d you know?”

“Because Y/N works there,” he promptly exits the room, hightailing it to the elevator.

Emily looked at JJ. “Who’s that?”

She shrugged, lost too on who you were.

———

The team had split into two vehicles. Hotch, Rossi, and Reid in one while Morgan Emily, and JJ in the other.

Rossi glanced at Hotch, communicating the tension Reid was releasing from the passenger seat. In turn, Hotch sneaks a peek via the rear view mirror and profiles Reid’s ticks—hands clasped tight together, right leg shaking up and down, eyes shifting from left to right, and deep breaths through the nose and mouth. 

“Reid,” he called out.

Blown wide doe eyes meet his. “Hm?”

“We need you to stay focused. If you can’t do that, I’ll pull you out of this case.”

“I—I can do it!” His voice cracking.

“Are you sure, kid?” Rossi clarified.

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s just she’s my—” roommate but that singular title wasn’t fitting to describe who you were to him. No classification was good enough, really. “—I can focus,” he declared. 

There was a series of looks exchanged between the two senior agents. They didn’t need to be seasoned profilers to understand that their youngest is one slip away from panic.

Hotch sighed. “Alright, Reid, but you follow my orders. Got it?”

“Yes.” 

———

Einstein’s theory of special relativity was what came to mind as he paced outside your hospital room. The physicist implied that time moves relative to the observer. An object moving very fast experiences time more slowly than in rest and that was exactly what he felt as he paces back and forth outside your room, desperately waiting for any update—the good or the bad. Everyone seemed to be moving at a leisure pace while he, Dr. Spencer Reid, hangs on the precipice of elation and despair. 

The team had sent him away, to you specifically, when it was obvious that his otherwise objective mind was of no help in finishing up the case. Was it dreadful of him that he felt relief course through his veins when it wasn’t you that got the short end of the stick during the unsubs’ Russian Roulette? Yes, possibly but he was only human. A being filled with conundrums and good vs evil. 

The impact of today was eye opening. He could no longer deny to himself that you were more than just a roommate or an acquaintance or a friend. Oh, how hard he tried so hard to push away any thought that seemed any less innocent or chivalrous, but the idea of seeing those beautiful eyes broken and in pain made him want to face the truth. The truth being how deliriously in love Spencer Reid was with you. 

His phone rang, disturbing his mind-altering revelation thoughts.

“Hey kid,” It was Morgan. “How is she?”

Reid licked his lips, eyes trained on the still closed door. “I—I haven’t seen her. The doctors are still inside and I’m still here—outside.” 

“I know this isn’t the time but should we know who she is?” A pause. “Girlfriend?”

“No. No, she’s my roommate,” his sigh coated in despair, murky and sad enough for Morgan to notice.

“You sounded so worried. It’s almost like you’re in love with her or something.”

“I am—” your door opened. “I have to go, Morgan,” he hung up before another word could be uttered.

“Are you Dr. Spencer Reid?” The female doctor asked.

He nodded.

She smiled. “She’ll see you now.”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Christmas Cookies | Hongjoong

❄️ Pairing: Dad!Hongjoong x Mum!Reader ❄️ Requested by: Anon ❄️ Synopsis: Making christmas cookies with the family doesn't go to plan. ❄️ Word Count: 1,203 ❄️ Warnings: None. I tried to make this as different from Cookies that I wrote last year as I could. I also used the family from Interruption/Corruption but this is like set in the future kinda. ❄️ Taglist: Open. I am renewing my tag lists for 2025. Please read this post if you want to stay on them- tag list renewal (dec 01-31 2024).

12 Days of Christmas Masterlist

Hongjoong steps into the kitchen hoping to find something to eat, instead his eyes widening at the sight of his wife and daughter covered in flour, while their little boy, not even a year old, snoozes peacefully in a carrier on his mother's back. Scattered across the kitchen counters is ingredients and utensils to make Christmas cookies.  

"What's going on here?" He asks, gaining the attention of his small family. 

"Appa, come make Christmas cookies with us!" Eun-ae says excitedly, dropping the cookie dough that's in her hand on the counter. 

"Honey, you do realize we have a baker who can make cookies for us, right?" Hongjoong replies, surveying the mess before checking the time on his watch. "And it’s nearly 11:30 PM. Why are you both still awake?"  

"She was asleep, but then she had a nightmare," Y/N explains recalling the moment she rushed to Eun-ae's room, heart racing and gun in hand at the sound of her daughter's terrified cries. Relief washed over her when Eun-ae told her she had a scary dream. Their daughter wouldn't tell her what it was about but refused to calm down until Y/N promised her that daddy wasn't far from coming home. "I thought baking Christmas cookies would be a good distraction until you got home." 

"And what about our little guy?" he asks, taking off his suit jacket and grabbing an apron from the hooks by the door.  

"He woke up shortly after," she replies. "He wouldn’t settle back down either."  

"Well, he’s out cold now," Hongjoong says tying the apron at the back and peering into the carrier as he joins them. He smiles seeing his son sleeping soundly, completely unaware of the floury chaos his sister is creating. "What do you need me to do?" he asked Eun-ae, who was clearly leading the cookie-making operation. 

Eun-ae's eyes light up with joy as she points to a bowl filled with cookie dough. "Can you roll that out so we can make shapes with these?" she asked, directing her tiny finger toward the array of cookie cutters laid out before her. All of them are Christmas themed shapes. 

"And Eomma will clean up a bit," Y/N adds, reaching for the paper towels. As she starts tidying up, she steals a glance at her husband and daughter, watching him roll out the dough while Eun-ae picks out her favorite shapes. A smile spreads across her face. Despite it being so late, moments like these are what makes everything she does for her family seem worth it and she'll do it all over again if she had too.  

Once the cookies are baking in the oven and the kitchen counter is much tidier, Y/N feels Eun-chan starting to stir awake. "Joong," she softly calls to her husband who's watching the cookies bake with Eun-ae as she rambles on about what colour she wants to ice them. "I think Channie's waking up," she informs him as he turns to look at her.  

"Step back a little. I don’t want you to get burned," Hongjoong cautions Eun-ae, noticing she has she's moved a little too close to the oven. After she steps back, he makes his way over to Y/N, looks inside the carrier, finding Eun-chan's big brown eyes staring right back him and lifts him out as Y/N unbuckles the carrier, taking it off. 

Hongjoong cradles him close, whispering lyrics to a song that make the baby coo softly, his tiny fingers curling around his father's shirt as he nestles his head against his chest. It doesn't take long for Eun-chan to fall back into a peaceful slumber, his little breaths steady and calm. 

"I should go put him back in his crib," Y/N says quietly, not wanting to disturb her son's sleep. 

"I can do," Hongjoong assures her. "You just sit down and relax while the cookies bake."  He presses a quick peck to her lip before disappearing out of the kitchen after promising Eun-ae he'll be back in a few minutes.  

When Hongjoong re-enters the kitchen fifteen minutes later, he finds Eun-ae in tears for the second time that evening. "What’s wrong?" he asks, a bit alarmed, taking in his daughter’s distraught appearance while Y/N looks a bit disheartened.  

"I think we might have messed up the recipe," Y/N explains, putting on the oven mitt and pulling the tray of cookies from the oven. The cookies have completely lost their shape, turning into blobs of melted cookie dough. The once-promising batch of cookies now resembled a chaotic, gooey mess rather than the perfectly shaped treats they had envisioned.  

Hongjoong's eyes widen in surprise, and he quickly moves closer to inspect the disaster. "Oh no," he murmurs, trying to suppress a chuckle at the sight. "What happened?"  

Y/N sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. "I think I might have mismeasured the flour. I was distracted by Eun-chan waking up and..." She glances at Eun-ae, who is still sniffling, her big eyes glistening with tears.  

Eun-ae wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand, her disappointment evident. "But I wanted to decorate them with red and green icing! Now we can't even do that!" she cries, her voice trembling.  

Hongjoong kneels down beside her, his expression softening. "Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart. Sometimes things don’t go as planned, but that doesn't mean we can't make the most of it," he tries to assure her. "How about this, we decorate these ones, make them all nice and pretty and then we can enjoy them with milk. Then tomorrow I can talk to Mrs Lee and ask her if you can help her make some more cookies. How does that sound?" 

Eun-ae sniffs, her tears slowing as she considers his words. "You really think we can make them look nice?" she asks. 

"The three of us doing it together, I think we can," he smiles. 

"Okay, Appa," she agrees even though her expression is sceptical.  

Hongjoong picks her up and carries her to the kitchen counter, placing her on one of the stools. "Now let's make these cookies pretty again," he says, confidently picking up one of the icing bags. 

I am renewing my tag list. Please read this post - tag list renewal (1st-31st Dec) - if you want to remain on the tag list.

already renewed:

@carattinymoa - @ateezswonderland - @forever-atiny - @choppedballoondetective - @rainyday-daydreamer 

@ultrapinkvoidbouquet - @reiofsuns2001 - @alexxavicry - @hollxe1 - @bookswillfindyouaway

-

2024 taglist.

@katzline - @treehouse-mouse - @jedi-dreea - @green-agent - @tinyelfperson -

@yeonjunnie – @laylasbunbunny – @deltamoon666 - @skz1-4-3 - @everythingboutkpop -

@oddracha - @http-gyu - @skittyneos - @pinkpunkdynamite - @keshivibes -

@katsukis1wife - @jjoongstar - @arki-sha - @lixisoul99 - @do-you-remember-summer-127 -

@catzachvsvt - @lemur46 - @bygoodness - @ateez-atiny380 - @reayahnadeem2

[awearywritersworld]

stay as long as you need

fushiguro toji x reader summary: toji can't stop hanging around his new neighbor, even though she has a boyfriend. oh well, he knows he's better for her anyway. w/c: 1.2k tags/warnings: hurt/comfort. angst to fluff. domestic violence perpetrated by reader's boyfriend, but nothing terribly graphic; the incident is discussed after the fact, not depicted. implied age gap. protective!toji. toji actually being nice. cliche "who did this to you" moment. fem!reader a/n: WHY IS HE SO HOT??????? I JUST WANT HIM TO TAKE CARE OF MEEEEEEEEE (OR CRUSH ME WITH HIS THIGHS, IM NOT PICKY) on a less unhinged note, thanks for reading!! masterlist

"need some help?"

you nearly jump upon hearing the words, having been lost in your own little world. when you turn around, you're met with a dark haired, well built man and just the sight of him makes your cheeks feel hot.

"oh, i- um," you glance between him and the heavy box in your hands.

he's already taking it from you though, effortlessly balancing it in one hand before opening the door for you with the other.

"thanks," you squeak out, stepping inside your new apartment building.

he smirks down at you, eyes raking over your body. toji isn't exactly the good samaritan type, but for a pretty little thing like you, he can certainly make an exception.

the elevator button lights up when he presses it. "just moving in?"

"yup! third floor. getting everything up there has been quite the ordeal, so i appreciate your help," you explain sweetly.

when the metal doors slide open, he lets you step inside first.

"hm, all by yourself? no boyfriend in the picture?" well, the sorcerer killer has never been one for subtly.

"yeah, actually," you return sheepishly. "he's just out with his friends at the moment."

"that so?" you don't see the look of judgement that crosses his face, though it isn't at all directed toward you.

once you emerge on your floor, toji follows along just a step behind you. he can't help his amusement when you stop at your door. "would you look at that. i guess we're neighbors now."

his head nods toward his own apartment, just two doors down from yours. "oh good! i'm glad this wasn't too far out of your way."

"don't worry about it, wouldn't have been any trouble either way."

you offer him a bashful smile before your door clicks open, revealing quite a few boxes just inside. "you can just put that anywhere, don't mind the mess.. i'm (y/n), by the way."

"toji." he places it on top of one of the other boxes, honestly impressed that you managed to get so many upstairs by yourself. "can i have your car keys?"

he thinks the look of confusion that crosses your features is just too cute. "what for?"

he chuckles because it should be obvious, but clearly you aren't used to being taken care of. "to get the rest of your boxes, princess."

~~~

the next afternoon, toji answers a knock at his door and finds you on the other side. you've got a plate of fresh cookies in your hand, which you shyly offer to the tall man. "these are for you. thank you so much for all your help yesterday! i couldn't have done it without you."

"thanks, you didn't have to," he tells you, although he's happy you did. when he pulls them from your grasp, his hands brush yours. he invites you in, insisting he can't enjoy them alone, but really he just wants to get to know you.

and he does. over the next few weeks, you spend a surprising amount of time in one another's company. whenever he bumps into you in the hall, he'll chat with you for a while, even (or, especially) when he's running late to a job.

one day you mention that a shelf you ordered came disassembled, so he offers to come over and put it together for you. of course you show up at his door the next day with a new plate of cookies.

another morning, toji groans when he discovers that he's out of tea, but quickly realizes it's the perfect excuse to knock on your door. when it swings open, he swallows thickly, taking in your tiny shorts and thin tank top. it was obvious you'd just woken up.

you're no better than he is with the way your eyes trail over his fitted tshirt, then down to the sweatpants that hang loosely around his waist. you're both too preoccupied staring to notice the other doing the same.

"mornin', sleepy beauty," he says with a lopsided grin.

"good morning, toji." you return his smile, your greeting a saccharine melody to his ears. oh, the things he'd do to have you all to himself.

he explains his predicament and you're more than happy to invite him inside. you both sit at your kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea and chatting about your day. the domesticity off it all leaves a pleasant taste in his mouth, which is bizarre seeing as up until a few weeks ago, he'd have found the thought down right repulsive.

but he just can't get you out of his head. you're too sweet for your own good, too young to know what you deserve in a man, and he's more than willing to show you.

he knows you're not available, but makes no attempt to stifle his growing fondness toward you. after all, he'd only ever seen your boyfriend once.

you were returning from a rare afternoon out just as he was leaving to pick up something for lunch. you looked so good in your cute little dress that he hardly even noticed your boyfriend at first.

"hey, (y/n)," toji greeted you. "who's this?"

he didn't give you a chance to speak, just pulled you into his side. "her boyfriend."

"ah," he leered, his nose crinkled. "i wasn't sure since i never see you around."

your eyes flickered between the two men somewhat nervously. toji towered over your boyfriend, a feat he took great satisfaction in.

a humorless laugh came from your left. "prefer to have her over at my place."

toji didn't respond right away, just looked down at you, taking note of your quietness. he briefly recalled the time you mentioned how much it bothered you that your boyfriend never came to visit, that you always had to make the effort.

"right.. well, you're a lucky man." he looked much more smug by then, his head falling to the side. "your girl has the best cookies around."

toji moves past both of you without waiting for a reply, roughly clapping your boyfriend on the shoulder. "see you around, (y/n)."

~~~

nearly two weeks later, toji's leaving his apartment late in the evening, as his current job can really only be taken care of during the nighttime hours. he doesn't expect to see many people in the halls, so he's surprised to find you at your apartment door.

the hood of your sweatshirt is pulled over your head, obscuring your face from his view. "(y/n)?"

you don't respond, so he takes a step toward you. it's only then he notices the way your hands are trembling, struggling with the lock. he reaches out, but when his fingers brush your arm, you jump back as if you'd been completely oblivious to his presence.

"hey-" he begins to say, but stops once he sees your face. his eyes darken and his jaw tenses, the veins in his neck becoming more prominent as a result.

your cheekbone is bright red, a small cut stretching across the center of the mark. your eyes watch him, wide and fearful, and you're all but frozen in place.

"who did this to you?"

he's struggling to keep his composure, the sight of your bruised face enough to have his heart hammering away angrily in his chest. you look away, tears forming in your eyes, and you can't bring yourself to respond.

"was it him?" he presses.

you nod, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to keep from crying. "i-it's okay, though. he didn't mean it, really, and-"

"look me in the face and try that again."

you meet his gaze, somewhat unwillingly, and whimper. "i.. i can't."

he sighs quietly, his job already forgotten for the night, and moves toward you. he remembers how you flinched away from him just moments ago. "..can i touch you?"

you nod once more and he hesitantly pulls you against his chest. it's getting harder and harder to keep your emotions in check, especially with the slow circles his hand is drawing on your back.

"i was so scared, toji," you finally admit, voice barely above a whisper.

"i know, but you're safe now. won't let 'im touch you ever again," he promises, fully intent on keeping it.

his words push you over the edge and you grab at his shirt as you begin to weep, your knees buckling beneath you. he supports your weight, rocking you back and forth. "you're okay. it's going to be okay."

after a minute or two, he finally hears you take a shaky breath and relief fills his chest at the sound. "see? just like that, baby. in and out."

you do as he says and after a few more breaths, he pulls away from you and takes your hand. "c'mon. let's get you cleaned up."

leading you into his apartment, he goes straight to the bathroom. you gasp when he grabs you by the hips and hoists you up onto the counter before searching for his first aid kit. when he pulls it down from the cabinet, he moves to stand between your legs.

grabbing you by the chin, he tilts your head to get a better look your injury. the redness is already transitioning to a darker hue and he knows it'll look even worse tomorrow.

"gonna clean the cut, okay? it might sting."

"okay," you sniffle.

he rips open an alcohol wipe, dabbing it gently against your cheekbone. when you wince in pain, he offers a quiet apology, but he's finished before long, having applied a bit of ointment as well.

"thank you," you murmur.

both of his hands find your thighs, resting on the area just above your knees. "don't thank me. not for this."

there's an edge to his voice, but you know it's not directed toward you. your hands settle on top of his own, quelling his anger for the time being.

"you know," he grunts, his gaze lingering on your cheek before it shifts toward your eyes. "i could never lay a hand on you."

his expression is much softer now than it was in the hallway and he savors the small smile that tugs at your lips. "i know, toji."

as he looks down at you, he knows he's done for. hell, he's known it for a while now. you deserve to be adored. taken care of. made to feel good... and toji is more than confident in his ability to do so.

for a fleeting moment, he considers the fact it wouldn't be hard to find out where your boyfriend lives, to make sure he never raises a hand to you again, but your gentle voice pulls him from his thoughts.

"can i stay with you tonight?" you ask meekly.

"yeah, 'course.. you can stay as long as you need."

jjk taglist: @torusmochi

[sungbeam]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘 : a series!

[7 OF 11 NOW CUFFED!] ; it's cuffing season! — and the boyz are in for quite the adventure as they learn to juggle school, work, friends, and love.

starring: the boyz, f!reader

genre: college au, fluff, humor, comfort, assorted pairings

word count: 216k/?? // at least 20k+ words per part

**note: the main plotline (the 4 szns) can be read completely as stand-alones. all other spin-offs can also technically be read as stand-alones, but some might require context from the main plotline. (all prev yns will appear as __!yn)

+ ADD THIS TO YOUR LIST (taglist form: open)

a/n: i'm very excited for this series tbh and i really hope i retain the strength to finish it 🤧 a great way to help me out tho is to blow this post up by reblogging, esp since tumblr gatekeeps the actual fics when they're published :')

SEASON ONE: PARTY PEOPLE — jacob b.

yours and jacob's mutual friend kevin is convinced that you're meant to be, even if he only just met you. (trailer, 34k)

SEASON TWO: FLIGHT RISK — eric s.

you and eric met on an airplane, and that's where you thought it would end, but clearly the universe has a different plan in mind. (trailer, 30k)

SEASON THREE: OFF THE RECORD — j. changmin (parts 𝐈, 𝐈𝐈)

everyone thinks changmin is cute and harmless, but you know that's not who he really is. (trailer, 36k)

SEASON FOUR: AIN'T NO ROMEO — l. hyunjae

your best friend hyunjae ain't no romeo, but you're still in love... so let's hope he doesn't find out you wrote a whole play about him! (trailer, 30k)

— spin-offs & side adventures.

RHAPSODY ANONYMOUS — k. sunwoo

you never thought your humble, little podcast would ever touch somebody's soul like it did one kim sunwoo's. (trailer, 28k)

RESCUE PROTOCOL — kevin m.

another summer break, another annual trip to the lake! except, it seems like when you and kev get there, you'll have to make some tweaks to the original rescue protocol. (trailer, 29k)

AT YOUR CONVENIENCE — k. younghoon

neither you nor younghoon were party people, but you did find love in the convenience store down the block. (trailer, 29k)

HOT COMMODITY — j. haknyeon

no matter how many times he's been to this restaurant, haknyeon swears he's not just here for the cute waitress. (trailer, __)

PINKY SWEAR — c. chanhee

you and chanhee are far from the years of pinky swears, but here you are, still lacing fingers after all this time. (trailer, __)

THE REVEAL — l. sangyeon

does sangyeon really have a secret girlfriend? well... let's find out. (trailer, __)

CLASS(Y) ACTION — l. juyeon

nothing is more cutthroat than the legal sphere, and sometimes we have to find allies in the strangest places—even if he spills coffee on you. (trailer, __)

EXTRA/"DELETED" SCENES

section under construction.

EXTRA, EXTRA CONTENT

— QUIZZES!

lmk what u got for a free smooch and a cookie 🤸‍♀️🥰

which love in unity boy will you be cuffing this year? (uquiz)

which love in unity boy will you be cuffing this school year? (**NEW & IMPROVED VER)

love in unity trivia !! for the main plot only (uquiz)

— ALT. READING ORDERS

if u want to read this series in timeline order, this is how it should be done: jacob/younghoon, eric/haknyeon, changmin/sunwoo, hyunjae/chanhee, sangyeon, kevin, juyeon

if u wanna read sungbeam's favorites (no particular order): at your convenience, ain't no romeo, (more to be decided!)

— SERIES TAGS: general series. any wip can be searched via "wip: _____" (usually just the initials, except for party people); or "the (member) fic™"

[frownyalfred]

tl;dr: what's your opinion on posting roleplay replies on ao3?

i know they are frowned upon on ao3, at least that's what i've seen so far, which i can understand... to some extend. they are allowed in the archive, yes, but they also clock tags and it's annoying to read something you don't understand without the other replies and further context. they are tolerated, but i get the sentiment.

here's the thing... i rarely write for myself. i enjoy writing with others and building something together, and sometimes i create pieces i'd love to share. like, recently i have written a reply for someone that explores two different bruce's; one that has helena wayne/the huntress as his biological daughter, one that doesn't, how she got cursed into another universe, and how one deals with losing his child, while the other tries to re-order his life in order to make her fit. it's something beautiful that works on it's own, something i am very fond and proud of, but i'm torn on wether i should post it or not.

i could've kept the fact it's from roleplay a secret, but that also feels shit, lmao. i could keep it to tumblr, but no one would read what i put out -- let's be real, tumblr works very different compared to ao3. so i thought i'd give reaching out to one of my favorite authors a chance.

sorry for the lenght, feel no need to answer.

Hmm. I guess I haven't given it a ton of thought before now. I don't usually engage in roleplay myself, but I absolutely view it as a legitimate version of creation. Just because it's created a certain way doesn't mean it doesn't belong on ao3 -- it's an archive for transformative works, not just cookie-cutter fic formats.

I would say, err on the side of caution and tag as much as you're comfortable (tagging things after the required ao3 warnings is always optional, I want to reiterate, but sometimes additional tags help readers a lot). Make sure it's clear what the structure of the work is, if possible, but don't do yourself a disservice by making roleplay a dirty word, if you use it.

I don't think you're "clogging" up the tag, any more than the person writing 139/250 50 word individual fics haha. There will always be floods of content in various tags, and people who throw shitfits about that need to grow up. Unless someone is breaking the ao3 TOS, everything else is "etiquette" and that truly is nebulous and subjective, even if people will insist it isn't.

As for the missing context and replies -- I think that's something you can get creative with, if you want. But also, if you never fill in those blanks or provide that context, that's okay too. It's an archive, not a site where you have to actively promote your fic and make it the most appealing it can be to the largest group of people.

A final note on context though: I've found that the roleplay chunks I do come across in the wild look a lot like dialogue planning I do for some fics! If you ever want to turn them into a traditional fic structure, I don't think you're very far off at all. But only if you wanted! As I said above, I think what you have is 100% legitimate and should stand on its own on ao3.

[sequinsmile-x]

Fourth - Chapter 3 - One Month Old

Emily and Aaron get through the newborn stage, also known as the 'fourth trimester', together.

-x-

Hi friends,

Thanks so much for the love on this so far, it means a the world as always!

Let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: List of tags can be found on the Master List

Words: 2k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

One thing that had taken Emily by surprise about having a baby was how ravenous she’d be whenever she fed him. 

It’s how she finds herself in the pantry, stuffing cookies into her mouth, just minutes before she is due to leave for her and Aaron’s anniversary dinner. He’d gently asked if she wanted to go out on to celebrate their anniversary just a week ago. She’d hesitated, not because she didn’t want to but because she’d never left Lucas alone for longer than just a few minutes whenever she was in the shower. The idea of being out, even only for a couple of hours, made her skin itch. She’d said yes in the end, wanting to spend some time with her husband and just be Emily for a while, but now she was wearing make up and a nice dress for the first time in a month she felt unsure. She takes another cookie out of the sleeve and sneers at it before she stuffs it in her mouth. 

“Fucking Oreos,” she grumbles as she puts the packet back on the shelf, “I hate Oreos.” 

It had been two weeks since Lucas’s doctor told them the newborn was intolerant to dairy and that it was best for Emily to cut it out of her diet if she wanted to continue nursing him. She’d of course followed the advice, seeking out meals and snacks she could still eat whilst cutting out dairy overnight. The guilt she felt when Lucas was more settled almost immediately still felt like it was fresh even now. The thought that she had been causing her baby discomfort, even unknowingly, almost too much to bear. 

“You ready to go, sweetheart?” 

She turns and looks at her husband, frowning when she sees his arms are empty, “Where’s Luke?”

He smiles as he steps further into the kitchen, his hands in his pockets, “Jess has him.” 

Jessica had immediately offered to watch the boys before Aaron had even finished telling her his plans for their anniversary, a conversation Emily later found out had happened before he’d even broached the subject with her. It made her feel more comfortable with the idea of going out because Aaron always spoke about how integral she’d been in Jack’s early life, a flash of shame in his eyes when he told her that Jessica had been better at settling his infant son than he had. 

“Okay,” she says, wiping her hands together to shake off the remaining cookie crumbs, “We should get going,” she looks down at herself, scrunching her nose up as she tries to readjust the way her dress was laying, the material gathering around her stomach in a way she hates. “Do I look okay?” 

When she looks up he’s standing much closer and he leans in to kiss her, his lips ghosting against hers before he pulls back, “You look beautiful.”

He places his hand on her back and guides her to the living room, his touch firmer when they spot Jessica and Lucas, the baby’s cheek against her shoulder as she pats his back.

“Look Lukey,” Jessica says, smiling at them, “Look how good Mommy and Daddy look.” 

Emily’s hands form fists at her sides, short nails digging blunt crescent moons into her palms, so she stops herself from reaching out and grabbing her son from Jessica’s arms. She tries to remind herself that she’s done harder things than this. She’s fought off monsters and literally stood toe to toe with death, but right now in this moment she can’t think of anything more difficult than walking away from her son for even just a couple of hours. 

“I just fed him,” she says, her eyes still on Lucas even though she’s talking to Jessica, “If he gets hungry again-”

“There’s milk in the fridge, labelled by the day you pumped,” Jessica says kindly, and when Emily looks up at her the gentle smile on her face reminds her they’d already gone through this since Jessica arrived. Twice. “And he’ll only fall asleep if you sway with him in your arms or on the porch swing.” 

Emily clears her throat, and Aaron’s hand ghosting over her lower back does nothing to relieve her embarrassment, her cheeks burning pink with it, “I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“Oh, you have nothing to worry about at all,” Jessica assures her, her kindness never wavering, “You should have seen what Haley was like the first time she left Jack,” her smile turns slightly wistful, “She left me a four page list of instructions. Front and back.” 

“And that was after I helped her slim it down,” Aaron says from beside her, his hand slipping from her back to her waist, tugging her into his side, “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to, Em.”

He was being so understanding it was almost pissing her off. Irritation, she knows he doesn’t deserve, aimed at his well meaning support thrumming under her skin. She was practically vibrating with it, tensing in his embrace, and she didn’t need to be good at her job to know it was because she was actually irritated with herself. She didn’t recognise who she was anymore, everything about who she was just a month ago stripped away and replaced with who she was now. It wasn’t a bad change, just new, and she was trying to get used to who she was now. How she’d be going forward with this tiny life she’d created out there in the world, no longer where she could keep him safe tucked up in her belly. 

She hadn’t been able to bring herself to tell Aaron any of this, worried that it would come across that it meant she loved Lucas more than she loved Jack no matter how far that was far from the truth, but Jack had been so much older when she stepped into that maternal role in his life. He’d been walking and talking and being apart from him, be it for work or her social life, had always been part of the deal. Lucas had always been either inside of her, on her chest or close enough to touch. It was an adjustment and she’d get used to it. 

She hoped. 

“No,” she says, looking up at her husband, knowing the moment their eyes meet that he sees through her forced smile, “It’s our anniversary. We should go out for dinner.” 

He stares at her for a beat too long and then he nods, his arm around her shoulders now as he kisses her temple, “Okay, in that case, we should get going so we don’t miss our reservation.” 

She tries her best to hold it together as they say goodbye to the boys and Jessica, and if Aaron notices Emily wiping tears away as they climb into the car, she’s grateful he doesn’t bring attention to it.

___

She can’t stop checking her phone. 

Every time the screen switches off she presses it again, the photo she has of her sons set as her wallpaper as much of a reassurance as it is a hindrance, a reminder of what she’s left at home. She keeps switching between staring at her phone and at the menu in front of her. She isn’t taking any of it in, the words on paper in front of her not registering at all. 

“Em, are you okay?” 

She looks up at her husband, smiling tightly as their eyes meet, her cheeks warm as she swallows back guilt, the ever present feeling that she wasn’t being a good mom or wife trying to force itself up her throat. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, hating how her voice shakes, her jaw tight as she tries to hold back the tears she would have easily fought a year ago, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He smiles at her so kindly it makes the tears fall past her lashline and she shakes her head at herself, “God-fucking damn it.”

Aaron shifts closer to her, dragging his chair along with him as he sits next to her, his arm around her shoulder as he pulls her in, “Sweetheart,” he says, kissing her temple, hooking his finger under her chin as he encourages her to look at him, “Nothing is wrong with you. You had a baby a month ago and this is the first time you’ve spent any time away from him. This is normal.”

She chokes on a laugh, automatically leaning into his hand as he cups her cheek and wipes her tears away, “It doesn’t feel normal.” 

He smiles and leans forward, resting his forehead against hers for a second, “I know it doesn’t,” he says, subtly shaking his head at the waiter as he approaches them, silently asking for another few minutes, “But I promise you it is. Do you trust me?” 

She nods, sniffing as she laughs again, “Yes. I do,” she says, leaning into his side, so emotionally wrung out she can’t even begin to think about being embarrassed for crying in a crowded restaurant, “I’ll go back to being your strong, kickass wife soon. I promise.”

He leans in and kisses her, “You already are, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her again, wiping another tear from her cheek, “Do you know what you want to eat yet?” 

She groans and shakes her head, “I need to figure out what I can eat.” 

He can’t help the wide smile that spreads across his face, swallowing back his amusement that his usually observant wife, the woman who could tell when someone was hiding something with nothing more than a slight change in their expression, hadn’t paid any attention at all to the restaurant he’d brought her to. 

“Em, baby, this is a vegan restaurant. You can eat whatever you want.” 

Her eyes go wide and she looks between him and the menu, the different options finally registering, and she feels overwhelming love wash over her. He loved her and their children in such a quiet, unassuming, way sometimes that it took her by surprise, his thoughtfulness of simply bringing her somewhere to eat where she had as much choice as she could enough to make tears gather in her eyes again.

“Aaron…” 

“And there aren’t any Oreo based desserts,” he says, winking at her, “I checked the menu online to make sure.” 

She smiles and kisses him, her hand curling around the back of his head, her fingers tangling in his hair.

“I love you,” she says, kissing him again, “And as soon as the doctor signs me off you are getting so lucky,” her smile gets wider when he laughs, “You may have to remind me though. I’m so sleep-deprived I almost left my phone in the freezer this morning.” 

He laughs and kisses her cheek before he looks at the menu between them, not bothering to move his chair back to where it should be, more than content to sit next to her like this all night. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

-x-

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[bluelancess]

Midnight Blooms | Elriel AU part 1/?

Sports romance, college AU.

Summary: When Elain is told by her father, a ruthless politician, that she is to marry the son of one of his closest friends, Lucien Vanserra, to assure her father’s win on the next election, she has no other choice but to agree. What she never expected was her convictions being tested by a tall, devastatingly beautiful black-haired hockey player who moved in right next door. And if there was one thing Elain was certain of, was that Azriel posed a dangerous threat to the previously dormant desires roaming inside her. And she needed to stay far, far away from him.

Tags: forbidden love, arranged marriage, forced proximity, modern setting, slow burn

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

Read on AO3.

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

Chapter 1

I never saw you coming

ELAIN

I never thought the house where I’ve only lived for a year would become the place I’d end up calling home, but here we are.

It’s a two story brick structure, with four bedrooms and two bathrooms. The kitchen is big enough for me to spend dead moments baking, and discovering new recipes, the living room is open, and gorgeous, with a somewhat high ceiling, a chimney and big windows that showcase the back patio beautifully. My favorite thing, no doubt, is the garden. The one in the back to be more exact. It is the main reason why I fell in love with this property last year when my sister Nesta, and I were hunting for a place to live during the school year. 

The big patch of land was pretty much dead. 

The landlord said he didn’t have time to waste planting flowers or trees, and laughed at me when I mentioned the immense potencial this place has. Right now, is unrecognizable from how it was when we moved in. I have a little vegetable garden at the far right corner, the newest addition, it has been a pain on my butt to get the flimsy vegetables to grow, but I think I’m going in a good direction. 

Right below the windows, there are planters with my favorite flowers, when some of them get to big to share the space I move them into either the soil along the sides of the wooden walls separating this property from the ones beside it, or I give them their own special little planter and distribute them along the backyard's sitting area. It depends on my mood, really. 

Anyway, I haven’t been here in two months, since last semester ended, and summer break began. Father has us stay with him during vacations, and holidays, and although I wanted to sneak out and come check and make sure my flowers were nice and watered, he didn’t allow it. Good thing I decided to ask Mrs. Wade to help me during the months I’d be away. Being the sweet old lady she is, she agreed in a heartbeat, only demanding I bake her some of my special chocolate chip cookies once I returned. 

I’ve been anticipating coming back here so much, that feeling absolutely nothing when I do, wasn’t really what I was expecting. 

Guess it has everything to do with the silly, little fact, that I’m getting married in six months.

Twenty-six weeks. 

A blink of an eye, in wedding planning time. 

Even worse considering I don’t even know the man I’m supposed to marry and spend the rest of my life with. 

Father and his dreadful ideas you can't refuse. 

“We should call the police,” Nesta says, sitting angrily at my side by the breakfast table, although her eyes remain glued to the little kitchen window, it has an excellent view to the house on the other side of the street. “Look at them! They totally sell drugs.” 

She crosses her arms, and furrows her thin brows, her mouth is slanted on a grim pout. I blink, rapidly, trying to make sense of her words. I have no idea what she might be referring to, but Nesta has a reputation of hating everyone and everything that crosses her path, so I don’t take her words very seriously. 

“Sure,” I reply, bringing my cup of tea to my lips for a sip. It’s cold, and doesn’t taste as good as it usually does. 

How long have we been sitting here in the kitchen? We got back here at lunch time, and we've been cleaning and setting things up all afternoon. It feels like just seconds since I boiled water to have a nice cup of tea and relax a little, but considering my cup is still full, and mostly cold... I have a habit of drifting too far into my thoughts and having trouble coming back. 

“I’m serious, Elain.” She insists. “It would be just our luck to end up being neighbors with…” she points at them with a firm and accusing finger, “jerks like that.” 

I look out the window, and my lips part when I see the reason of my sister's fury. 

Three guys. All tremendously tall, broad shoulders, dark hair, tattoos covering their tan skin. All of them, shirtless, wearing low rise sweat pants, laughing and playing around like little kids on the front yard, bottles of beer in their hands. 

“Who was the owner of that house, again?” Nesta asks, still not turning around to look at me. “Didn’t our landlord mention he knew them? Maybe he can get me their number, I’m sure a call would solve this.” 

“I don’t see the problem,” I say and she lets out a tiny, frustrated groan. “They’re just guys. It might be nice to have someone our age living near us, for the first time in forever.” 

“You say that now, but when you can’t sleep because of the noise they’ll make throwing parties… then you’ll agree with me.” 

“You like parties.” I point out. 

“Not when I want to rest.” Nesta points out. "You're so unbothered because your bedroom isn't the one looking out into the street." 

Her bad mood makes me smile a little. What can possibly be bothering her so much? She loves male company most of the time.  

“Are you sure that’s really the problem here?” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Now she looks at me, with liquid fire in her eyes at the accusation. I giggle. She might think she is hiding her true feelings well, but I know her better than she’d like to admit. She's spent all summer away from men because father would be furious if he found out one of his daughters is sleeping around, the tabloids would go crazy if it got leaked to the press, and he'd probably cut her allowance off. Which is why she behaved. 

But father is not here. And if some guy is stupid enough to not recognize my sister as the eldest daughter of our soon to be governor, then it is fair game for her. 

“What are you guys talking about?” Feyre asks, coming into the kitchen wearing a knitted sweater and denim shorts. 

“Nesta is drooling over those guys.” 

“I'm absolutely not!” Nesta says, standing up to point towards the window, moving the think, embroidered curtain to a side, to show Feyre the show. “I’m just saying that they don’t look like the kind of guys you want to have as your neighbors. They probably cook meth in the basement.” 

Feyre’s mouth opens and her eyes follows the three muscled man like a hungry beast following their prey. When she notices this, she shakes her head and takes a step back, awkwardly walking towards the fridge to retrieve a chilled bottle of water. 

“They’re fine… I mean, they don’t look like meth dealers,” she says, and clears her throat. “How come you guys never mentioned you had such hot guys living only a couple feet away, huh?” 

“Because we didn’t.” Nesta says, looking out of the window again, I’m pretty sure she’s giving them her signature death stare. “The house was empty last semester.” 

Feyre shrugs. 

“I don’t see the problem.” She brings the bottle water to her lips, peeking through the window once more. 

“That’s what I said.” 

“You two are too naive.” Nesta says, and then in a flash, her back straightens, and her shoulders tense. “Motherfucker.” She mutters, shaking her head from once side to the other so violently, the braid on the top of her hair looses a bit. “I know who these idiots are!” 

“What?” I ask, standing up from the table, to peek at the window with them. Feyre is pretending not to be as intrigued as she is, and Nesta is just spewing curses. “Who are they?” 

“The fucking hockey players, you know, the Night Beasts. Won the hockey tournament last year, or whatever it is called.” She says, and right as the words come out of her mouth, one of the guys, the tallest one, with shoulder length dark brown hair, half of it put up on a messy man bun, looks straight at us, the mischievous smile in his face only growing. “Is he looking at us?” Nesta lowers her voice as if she spoke a little louder he might listen, and the three of us freeze in place. 

“Can he even see us?” Feyre asks. 

“The window is glass, of course he can see us, Feyre.” 

"I meant from that far." 

And then, after a beat, the guy blows us a kiss and Nesta seems to me fuming at the ears. 

“Cocky bastard,” she says, closing the curtain and grabbing our arms to get us away from the scene of the crime. “That’s it. I’m kicking them out.” 

“You can’t kick them out, it’s not your house.” Feyre says, leaving the water bottle on top of the breakfast table, looking at me with concern. Neither of us really understands exactly what has Nesta so riled up, but she’s not listening to reason right now, and she most definitely won’t stop until all the anger boiling inside her disappears. 

“What are you going to do?” I ask, following her with quick steps towards the main entry of our house. She rapidly puts on some shoes, fixes her braid, and storms out the house with a very scary aura surrounding her. 

“Should we go too?” Feyre asks at my right. “She might kill them.” 

“She won’t kill them,” I assure her, not sounding sure at all. 

“Hey, you assholes! This is a family neighborhood.” We both hear her scream, and come to the silent agreement that yes, we should probably go stop her. Feyre moves faster than I do, crossing the threshold in three long, clean steps. 

“Hey, there!” The tall guy says, waving a hand at us. “Maybe you should get binoculars next time, my abs are more impressive up close. That is, if you don’t have the balls to actually cross the street, our door is always open.” 

“Don’t be a jerk, Cassian.” One of the guys say, he’s the shortest of the three, not less handsome, his torso also covered in dark ink, hair short, and perfectly combed. He looks friendlier than his friend. As soon as I join my sisters, I notice that Feyre’s feet are glued to the floor, her stare unmoving from the new guy’s face, and when he notices my sister, his eyes glisten at the attention, his smirk grows, and then he has the audacity to wink at her. 

Feyre’s cheeks turn rosy pink, but she rolls her eyes.  

“This is me being polite, Rhys,” Cassian replies, not breaking the eye contact with my sister, and hey, props to him for having the balls to face Nesta, not many have survived. 

“Ladies, I’m sorry my brother here has the manners of a brute,” Rhys says, walking slowly to the side of the street, right where their front yard ends. 

“I couldn’t care less about your brothers manners,” Nesta says. “This is a residential street, parties or loud noises after ten p.m are not allowed. And you don’t look like the kind of guys that live a very… quiet life. So, pack your shit up, and find somewhere else to live.” 

“Nesta…” Feyre warns. 

“Wait,” The Cassian guy says, pointing at my sister with one of his fingers. “I remember you.” 

“What?” Nesta says, and I approach my sister until I’m standing next to Feyre. 

Cassian laughs, throwing his head back as he does, like he can’t really contain it. “Don’t play dumb, now.”

“You don’t know me.” Nesta states as a fact. 

“Oh, I know you,” he shoots back. “Very well, I might add.” 

Nesta arches a brow. And the tension between them is so strong, it’d probably give you whiplash if it cut in half. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“The alley behind Elysian the last week of February? Ring any bells?” He teases her, and I chew the inside of my cheeks, watching their word war is like waiting for a grenade to explode. 

Now it makes more sense why Nesta was so riled up by the presence of these men. She would’ve never admitted it to us, though. Not if we tried to pry the truth out of her with the worst kind of torture. She’s closed off like that when it comes to the men she dates, or sleeps with. Dating is not really on her dictionary. 

“Seems like you have it committed to memory,” She teases him back, and Feyre looks at me surprised, biting her lower lip to keep herself from laughing. “Can’t say the same, I don’t waste time remembering guys who are… underwhelming, to say the least.” 

Cassian’s confident smile disappears in a blink. 

“You gave me a fake phone number, you know?” He tells her, like he’s wanted to say that to her for months, but never had the chance. 

“Oh, I did?” Nesta feigns innocence. “Guess I couldn’t be bothered to remember my real one.”

Feyre chuckles beside me, then clears her throat. “We should go back inside.”

“I’m done here, anyway,” Nesta says, turning around on her heels. But before she can fully go back to the house, she says to them, lifting a single finger in the air: “One transgression to my rules, and I’m calling the police.” 

“You’ll be joining in on the fun soon, gorgeous, don’t worry,” Cassian tells her, his confidence is back in place, like Nesta never gave a life threatening punch to his ego. 

“In your dreams, asshole.” 

“Believe it or not, my dreams come true all the time,” he tells her. “Mostly the dirty ones.” 

Nesta rolls her eyes, and goes back inside of the house, closing the door with a bang. 

“Sorry about that, my sister can be… a little intense.” Feyre says.

Cassian looks over Feyre's shoulder, like he's hoping to get one final glimpse of Nesta. “Just how I like them.” 

“Cass,” Rhys warns and Cassian shuts his mouth, then Rhys turns his attention to feyre. “We won’t bother you. Much.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about us,” Feyre says, also turning back around to go inside the house. “It’s Nesta the one you want to keep… content.” 

“Will do,” Cassian replies, fast as lighting, like he’s accepting a challenge and he hasn’t even realized it yet. 

“Good luck with that.” 

Feyre takes a couple steps towards the porche, and knocks on the door. Nesta completely forgot we were outside with her when she decided to do her grand exit. 

I’m about to follow my sister, when a new, rich, and velvety voice that we hadn’t heard before reaches my ears. 

“We are throwing a little get-together tomorrow night,” he says. I look up at the sound, and my mouth dries at the sight of the man in front of us, my breath catches and my heart pounds so fast, all I can hear is the frantic heartbeats. High cheekbones, and a boyish grin on his face. Short dark hair like his friends, but a little messier. I hadn’t noticed him before, standing on the porche, like hidden by the shadows. Now, he’s all I can see. “You should come.” 

“Azriel is right, you should come. It’ll be something small, I promise,” Rhys says, also walking back towards the house, putting one hand on top of the shoulder of his friend. “A one time thing, even. To kick start the year. I’m sure your sister won’t mind if it’s a Friday, correct?” 

Azriel. 

He looks down at his sneakers, but there’s a tiny smirk on his lips, the right side of his mouth lifting up slightly more than the left. Then his eyes look up again, directly at me, and my knees buckle, like they want to give in at the heavy weight of my body. God, he’s beautiful. 

Beautiful, like it should be forbidden, illegal, to be. 

Men like him don’t exist in real life. They just don’t. 

And it is so unfair, so unfair, that he happens to live so close. 

“Will there be booze?” Feyre asks, and Rhys smiles at her. 

“What kind of booze do you prefer?” 

She takes a couple seconds to answer, chewing on her lower lip, gloating at the way the guy can’t keep his eyes off of her. 

“I really like wine.” She replies. “Good wine, though.” 

“I’ll get you the best.” 

She smiles even broadly. 

“Great,” Feyre knocks on the door one more time, and it opens with an angry force, I chuckle when I see Nesta walking away with heavy and furious steps towards the stairs. “I’ll bring my boyfriend.” 

And then Rhys is not smiling anymore. 

“Come on, Elain.” She tells me and I giggle. “Wanna order pizza for dinner?” 

“Sure.” I turn around and wave at them. “Goodnight.” 

Rhys and Cassian grunt, twin annoyed grimaces in their faces. 

But Azriel... he smiles at me. 

And then waves back softly. 

---------

hi! thank you so much for reading! I've been wanting to write an ACOTAR fanfic in a modern setting for so long, and i finally have the time (and the ideas) to do it, so i really appreciate you taking the time to read it! I will be updating it as i go, i hope to post regularly, so we'll see!

i´m also posting this on AO3, so it'd be great if you guys could go support me there as well! <3

ps. i always say this, but english isn't my first language, so i apologize if there are any mistakes<3

[alaydabug2]

Tag list: @sparklenarniawizard @imobsessed123 @thoughtlescat @ilikebookssomuch

Broken heart/Broken mind

Chapter Sixty-two

(Human AU)

Sophie and Keefe met in the children's hospital when they were little. Because of how long they were confined to the four walls of the hospital, they became very close during their stay.

As the years pass, they wind up being in the same classroom together due to their physical conditions. This makes their bond deepen.

But are they able to handle when life gets tough, throwing problems and complications their way?

Sophie collapsed into the waiting room chair. She pulled out her blanket she brought and started to get herself comfortable.

Ro took the seat next to her with a sigh. She rubbed the center of her forehead.

"I'm taking a nap," she decided. "I've been up for too long."

Sophie decided that was a good idea. She curled her knees into her chest, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make herself get drowsy. It was still dark out, but her anxiety kept her awake.

If she couldn't fall asleep, she took the next best thing. She pulled the covers up over her head and pretended that nothing else existed.

She wasn't sure how long she had stayed like that for, but when she didn't come back to the rest of the world until Ro's voice said, "I'm getting a coffee from the Starbucks down the street, Blondie. Wanna come with me?"

Sophie wiggled out of the covers, taking in a breath of fresh air. "Yeah, I'll go."

The drive there was painfully silent. They ended up stuck behind a car for ten minutes.

With the wait, Sophie asked, "How long will the surgery take?"

Ro pondered it for a moment. "Usually takes about eight hours without complications or anything unexpected."

"And if there are?"

"Could be a good while longer. I'm thinking it'll probably take nine hours, but it should go fairly smooth."

She glanced at the clock. It was eight am. Surgery had only been in for around an hour. It was going to be an extremely long day.

They made it back to the waiting room. Sophie decided to pull out her book and start reading. When lunch came around, her and Ro went downstairs to the Subway.

"Think he'll want a cookie when he wakes up?" Ro mused, staring at the baked goods.

Sophie shrugged. "Can always save it for later if he doesn't."

"Good point."

They sat down at one of the tables with their sandwiches. After a few minutes of eating in silence, Ro said, "I'm planning on moving back home."

That took Sophie by surprise. "Really? How come?"

She shrugged. "I just... wanna keep a better eye on Keefe. Especially while he's recovering. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to him and I could've been there to prevent it. Already talked to Bo about it. He figured it's a good enough excuse for his parents to accept it."

"How long do you plan to stay for?"

"Not quite sure yet. At least a few months."

Eventually, Sophie wasn't able to force any more of her food down. Her stomach was sloshy with her unspoken worries.

The two of them went back upstairs soon after. Sophie decided to give another attempt at sleeping.

It wasn't long after when a nurse had come into the room. Sophie was puzzled. It was only twelve thirty.

"Family of Keefe Sencen?" She said.

Ro raised her hand. "Yes? We're here."

The nurse turned in their direction, crossing the patterned carpet.

"Hello, my name is Livvy." She held a hand out. Ro shook it. "I wanted to inform you on your... son?"

"Brother," Ro corrected. "Fourteen years apart."

"Ah, sorry about that. Anyway, I wanted to give you an update on how surgery has been going so far. It's been more complicated than we were expecting." Sophie's heart dropped. "He's been bleeding more than anticipated. Needed a blood transfusion. He also flat lined on us for a moment a couple of times. Don't worry, we were able to get him back, but be prepared for waiting longer than originally anticipated."

The nurse turned to leave. Sophie tugged at her eyelashes. The thought of Keefe flat lining, made her lunch want to come back up. Tears burned her eyes.

Ro grabbed her hand. "Hey. He's alright now. They're taking care of him."

"I know," Sophie whispered.

"I heard what you told him before he went back earlier." Sophie froze. She hadn't meant for anyone else to hear that. "And I know you're worried, I am too. But he's made it this far. He won't go that easily."

She nodded.

Not much was spoken the next several hours. When Livvy came back to say they could come see Keefe, the surgery had taken close to twelve hours.

Keefe was still extremely drowsy when they were let back into his room. Sophie cringed when she saw the tube down his throat. The good news, however, was that he was awake and responsive.

Sophie hung back while Ro went to go see her brother. The nurses were working on him. When they were about to remove the tube, she came next to the bed. They started taking out a few of the IVs he had, one being in his neck.

One of the nurses loomed over him. "Can you tell me your name?"

He swallowed. "Keefe... Sencen," his voice was just above a rasp.

"Good job!"

A time later, the nurses finally dissipated, only checking in periodically. Sophie sat by his beside, massaging his scalp and holding his hand. Ro was running her hand up and down his arm.

Keefe reached out, trying to grab something. He whimpered a bit. Ro followed to where he was looking at.

"Water?" She guessed.

He nodded. She took the water and brought it down to his level. He drank it through the straw for a few moments before letting Ro take it back.

"I got a cookie for you earlier," she told him. "You want it yet?"

He shook his head.

After a while, he fell back asleep. Sophie curled up on the chair, trying her best to get comfortable.

"Do you want the pull out couch?" Ro offered. "I can sleep in the chair if you don't want to."

"I'm good," she assured.

Sophie pulled out Ella the elephant. She gazed down at her boyfriend. Her pulse felt like it was finally calming down now that she knew he made it through. The beeps of the heart monitor eventually lulled her to sleep.

[hemlocksandfoxgloves]

WIP Wednesday 🦋

tagged by @honestlydarkprincess (I fear my progress and the next 2 chapters of can’t help myself (red looks beautiful on you) is too explicit to share 🤭 so heres a snippet from my original Twin Flames)

“Yeah, they’re pretty soft. Pillowy soft, like your lips,” Jake mumbles. He takes another bite of the cookie but stops when he realizes what he said. He slowly chews on the cookie and swallows. “I mean, I- you know what I mean.” Jake shoves another cookie in his mouth, red as a tomato.

Clay grins and goes back to rolling the dough.

“Stop it, Jake,” Clay laughs. He nudges Jake’s hand away when he tries to take another cookie. The touch sent an electric shock through both boy’s hands. A string of shock that sped all the way to their soulmarks.

“Ow,” Jake is shocked at the pain and touches his collarbone. He looks under his shirt but can only see a hint of the angry red skin.

Jake’s been itching at it quite often, the mark looking worse than it really should. Last time he checked in the mirror it looked like his skin was welted and raised and pink around the edges. Now, it looks branded and burned.

Jake figures it must be normal. He doesnt know a lot about this soulmate stuff. He figures he might have to do a little reading to see if he actually is dying. Probably tomorrow. Or next week. He’d ask Clay but he always acts weird anytime he brings anything up about soulmates, almost hopeful maybe. Like he’s just waiting for the day for Jake to finally find his soulmate. Maybe Clay already found his and he was wrong about all this soulmate stuff after all. If he did he didn’t tell Jake about it.

Jake wanted his soulmate to be Kayla. He was really hoping it was her. But when is he ever that lucky? If Kayla was his soulmate, he would want Clay to know. Jake thought they told each other everything. It’s not like he’s ever seen a soulmark on Clay though. To be fair, he doesn’t think Clay’s seen his mark either. Maybe if he showed him his mark, told him he found his soulmate… Clay’s not only seen his mark but he’s touched it. He’s been acting kind of weird ever since. Jake not too far off either though. Puberty sucked.

“Clay-”

Clay looks at Jake, stirring his ingredients in the bowl.

“Yeah, Jake?”

Jake wants to tell him, but for some reason he can’t get the words out. Why is this suddenly so hard? He’s just telling his best friend he found his soulmate. If it’s not Kayla, then it has to be Clay. It made sense if it were him.

Clay stops his stirring and turns his entire body towards him. “Jake? Are you okay?”

“Um…”

“Yeah?” Clay steps closer to him and touches his arm, his brow furrowed.

Suddenly Jake feels like he can’t breathe. Clay is just there, in his space. And now he can’t think straight and all he can see is Clay. It’s always Clay. He sees his blonde hair, his powdered cheeks, his soft pink lips. He remembered the way they felt when he kissed him. They were so warm against his own. He feels dizzy. He then feels Clay’s hand on the warm skin of his face and Clay’s lips are moving, but no sound is coming out.

Jake takes a few steps back and it’s like breathing air for the first time.

“What?”

“Do you feel sick? It’s not the cookies, is it?”

“No, Clay your cookies are delicious. I dont know. Vertigo.”

“But youre okay?”

“Yeah, Cleat. Dont worry about me.”

Clay smiles at the nickname and turns back to the counter. “You’re my so-” Clay pauses and frowns. “Um-” Clay looks at Jake again and fakes a smile. “You’re my best friend. Of course I worry.”

tagging @thiamsxbitch @ksbbb @wolfboy88 @fruchtfliege @chasing-chimeras @mmoosen @opheliathiams

[antis-hell]

ITSSS TIMMEEEEEEEEEE

ALTRVERSE SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

THEYRE ALL SO SILLY I LOVE THEM SO MUCH JACKIE SHOULD NOT BE DOUNG THAT MUCH FITNESS MY GOD HE BETTER BE BINDING PROPERLY MARVIN IS SUCH A BITCH ITS PERFECT ITS EVERYTHING OH MY GOD AHSGNEHRHRHFJRHFJJRJTHF THE ONLY THING IM PISSED ABOUT IS THAT THEY WERE SO SHORT BUT THATS UNDERSTANDABLE CUS YK THESE WERE ONLY THE FIRST ONES I REALLY HOPE THE NEXT ONES ARE BIGGER AND THE IRIS GUY GETS MENTIONED CUS LIKE ANTI WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE KILLIND RANDOM GUYS AND AAAAAAAA THE GUY CALLED SEÁN MADE MY DAY I LOVE HIM BUT THE IRIS GUY WHY DID ANTI HAVE SUCH BEEF WITH HIM??? IS HE THIS UNIVERSES CHASE?? DOES ANTI HAVE A PROBLEM WITH EVERY CHASE BRODY???? ANVSJDHSHSHDJHFBFJDJDNJDA I HAVE FUCKING BRUISES ON MY LEGS FROM HITTING MYSELF CUS IM SO FUVKING HAPPYYYYYYY THEYRE SO SILLY I LOVE THEM SO SO MUCH AND THE NEXT COVERS LOOK IMMACULATE AND WE SEE YOUNG MARVIN?????? IT LOOKS LIKE HE GETS HIS POWERS RATHER THAN IS BORN WITH THEM SO IS THAT WHY HES DIFFERENT TO THE OTHERS ALSO THE NO MAGIC SIGN ON THE COVER???? WHAT IS THAT AND WHY DID THEY HAVE A MAGIC REVOLUTION OF SOME KIND?? CUS THE POLICE ALL SEEM NEW TO THE MAGIC SO I THINK SO ALSO JACKIE GETTING HIS POWERS FROM THAT ZAPPY THING?? AT LEAST I THINK SO ALSO WHAT ARE HIS POWERS CUS ARE THEY JUST HE CAN JUMP SUPER FAR OR IS THAT JUST A SIDE EFFECT???? I NEED TO KNOW ALSO.I HOPE THE FIRST PAGE ACTUALLY HAPPENS AND THATS HOW ANTI GOT HERE AND GIVE JACKIE POWERS CUS THAT WOULD FEED SO MUCH INTO JACKIE HAVING AN ARC OF "OH SHIT MY POWERS ARE BAD" AND HAVING A MORAL DILLEMA OVER IT ALSO I CANT SHOW IT CUS IMAGE LIMIT BUT THE LAST PAGE WITH JACKIE AND THE FLOWERS??? HE LOOKS SO TRANSGENDER ITS NOT EVEN FUNNY ALSO THE CHICK HES SEEING?? AT LEAST I THINK SO?? AJSVBSVDJDXVJFJFJDJUDHDJAHSJD IM SO PROUD OF JACK AND EVRYONE INVOLVED FOR MAKING THIS ITS LITERALLY AMAZING AND IM SO SOS HAPPY TO SEE MORE YOUTUBERS COMING OUT OF THE YT CORNER AND INTO BIGGER MEDIA

OKAY THATS IT IF YOU MANAAGED TO READ AND UNDERSTAND THIS FAR GG I GIVE YOU A COOKIE AND AAAAAAAAA TAG YOUR SPOILERS PEOPLE

[marmolady]

Grandchildren: Beatriz

Summary: Endless Ending timeline. Middle-aged Taylor and Estela are entering a new phase of their life together, welcoming their grandchildren into the family. In four parts; this is PART THREE.

Word Count: 3496

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, ​@mauvecatfic @rhemenway888

Thanks for reading!

__________________________

2060

Taylor placed down a plate of cookies on the coffee table, and sat alongside her heavily pregnant daughter.

“I know it sucks for you to not be able to fix everything,” Liv said, looking up to her mother with a grateful smile, “but don’t think your tending to my cravings isn’t appreciated.”

Liv was some seven months along, her belly huge and rounded. Heavy bags under her eyes gave away her lack of sleep, the worrying that had kept her awake long into the night. Her unborn baby, a daughter, had long passed the danger period where a miscarriage was a high risk, but she would not truly relax before the infant was in her arms. After all, the last time… the baby had been four months along, she should have been okay…. Most days Liv felt she was barely functioning, even with all the support her family, and Jeimy, could offer.

“I’ve felt so awful,” Liv admitted. “I let the blonde fade out… I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean--?” Then Taylor realised. The blonde streak Liv had always dyed into her hair… making the point of having at least a bit of her look like the mom she had no biological link to. “God, Livi, you don’t have to keep doing your hair a certain way to prove our relationship to me!”

Liv winced. “See, I know that logically, but it’s not about logic, it’s about feeling. It’s been since I was so little, it feels like I’m throwing something away… something important.” She sniffed and looked away, lost in a dark place. Was there anyone she didn’t feel she’d let down?

“You’re carrying a lot, sweetheart. Let that one go.” She tenderly stroked her daughter’s short hair. “If it makes you happy, keep in the blonde, but do it for you, not out of any fear of hurting me. I’m secure in myself, and in my role as your mom… so take that load off, all right?”

“I’m just… finding it hard. Harder than I expected, which is stupid, I should’ve known I wasn’t ready for this….”

Taylor kept stroking her fingers through Liv’s hair. There was nothing she could say that would take away the fear, or the grief that still lingered.

“Some people believe,” she said quietly, “that the soul doesn’t fully attach itself to the body until the moment of birth. If the baby’s born sleeping, the soul waits for another little life. I don’t know if it might help… to imagine a piece of Avis might be with you and Beatriz now.”

Liv’s eyes grew wide and watery. “I want her with us,” she whispered. “More than anything.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I feel… I feel guilty sometimes even just for being excited about Bea coming. And I feel guilty that I’ve got this far carrying Bea when Jeimy had to go through that loss….”

“Sweetheart,” Taylor said, clutching her daughter’s hand. “You both went through it. It’s different, but your grief is real. Jeimy loves you, and they love Bea.”

Liv wept and snuggled into her mom’s shoulder, taking comfort there until her tears slowed.

“Mom… there’s something else. I need to check you’re okay with something….”

“I’m listening.”

“Well,” Liv wiped her face, righting herself a little, so she could look her mother in the face and read her. “We’d really like to use ‘Estela’ as Bea’s middle name.”

“Beatriz Estela Montoya? That’s pretty. That’s really pretty, swetheart. You were worried I’d be hurt?”

“I know we named Andi after you, but ‘Andromeda’ isn’t your actual name….”

Taylor laughed, and kissed Liv’s head. “Is this to get out of naming a dog ‘Draco’? You silly goose, didn’t I just tell you I’m secure in what we’ve got? Bea’s name is beautiful.”

Liv breathed a little sigh of relief. “Thanks-- we really like it.”

“She’s going to be really touched.” Taylor stroked the side of Liv’s face, adoring her. She could be a worrywart, her girl, but with what life had thrown at her in recent years, Taylor couldn’t blame her. Through it all, Liv was strong and kind, giving more of herself than she probably should, but somehow retaining her joie-de-vivre, her sparkle, dulled though it was on the darkest of days. “I love you, Livi,” she said. “I love you so much.”

And she hugged her, willing herself to somehow lend strength and courage where her daughter needed it-- if only it were that simple.

“It’s going to be okay.”

_________________________

It was pointless to keep checking her phone-- the message and ring tones had been set to blaringly loud so nothing could possibly be missed-- but that didn’t stop Taylor.

“Who you talking to, Grandma?” Andi asked, peering over Taylor’s shoulder.

Taylor hastily put it beside her on the floor. “No one, no one! Promise.”

Young Sol belly-crawled along the rug towards his grandma, then put himself in her lap.

“Hey, kiddo-- don’t worry, you’ve got my attention.”

“How many hours does it take for a baby to be born? They’ve been at the hospital all day!”

“Well, it depends. Sometimes, a baby will be in a big hurry to get out and it can happen in a couple of hours. Sometimes… it could even be a couple of days.”

“Days!” the two kids said in unison. It always tickled both Taylor and Estela that the two had an almost twin-like connection, their births only two days apart and inseparable since. Andi had often said ‘we basically are twins’ and no one could convince her otherwise.

How would another child fit into this dynamic? From the early days, Andi had been fascinated by her unborn sibling, talking about her constantly, while Sol barely seemed to register that a mammoth change was afoot. Until now, with his mom and nanay in the hospital, and not coming back until they had a baby to bring home.

“But,” Taylor added quickly, “last time your mom had a baby it was only five hours after she got to the hospital that Andi was born, and usually it’s faster once the mom’s already had a baby.”

“So, baby Bea could be being born right now?” Andi asked, reaching for her grandma’s phone. “And then they’ll ring and tell us?”

“She could be. And yes, they will. We’re just going to have to be patient.”

Andi huffed out a frustrated exhale. “Being patient is so hard! I wish we knew what was happening.”

“I know, mija,” Estela said as she came into the room with a plate of cocadas-- just how her mom used to make them. “Trust me, we’re all going a little crazy waiting for news. It’s just something we’ve gotta deal with.”

A tasty treat easily placated the easy-going Sol, who hummed to himself as he chewed, still sat in Taylor’s lap. Andi, though, wolfed hers down in what felt like seconds, and went straight back to asking after her mom and nanay. It was a challenge and a half, Taylor had to admit, to entertain two five-year-olds when one was completely incapable of thinking about anything other than the imminent arrival themselves.

Estela gave her wife a look. An understanding, ‘it’s driving me crazy too’ look. An ‘I’m with you’ look.

“Solito,” Estela said, determined to be distracted from worrying, and to have the kids distracted from worrying, “go and grab some paper and pens-- we can make some ‘welcome home’ posters for baby Bea-- good practice for your writing.”

Sol jumped up immediately, almost clocking his grandma in the chin as he got to his feet as was his enthusiasm. Reading and writing was a new skill, and one he was mighty proud of. He ran off, and as was typical, Andi was not far behind him.

It was hard not to be brought back to the kids’ mom learning to read and write. Liv had started a bit earlier, keen as she’d been to keep up with the older Reggie-- with whom she was inseperable. Liv would forever play with her alphabet fridge magnets; she took them with her from La Huerta, to San Trobida, to the States. Estela didn’t have any regrets about that rather fast-changing period in her daughter’s life… they’d given what stability they could, but it had never been possible to have a single true ‘home’. For these kids, though, home was San Trobida, a vastly different place to that the young Liv had known, and for Estela, it was barely recognisable as the war-torn country she grew up in. For baby Beatriz as well, the civil war and the horrors that came with it would just be a story told by her abuela, and a history lesson as she went through her schooling, as distant and irrelevent as the 2020 pandemic and dial-up internet.

Good for her.

Then Estela perched herself on the edge of the couch, only half-relaxing, for she could need to spring to action at a moment’s notice.

As if it had been waiting for the kids to leave the room, Estela’s phone rang, and she was up on her feet in an instant.

“Jeimy?” she asked too loudly. You’re gonna have to calm down…. She put the phone on speaker, though Taylor was right up by her ear so it probably wasn’t even necessary.

“She’s here-- they’re both doing great!” Jeimy cried down the phone, almost garbled in their excitement.

“The baby’s here? The baby--” Of course, the baby. Estela just laughed as relief and flooded her body. “Congratulations, Lorito,” she managed to get out. “Oh my god….”

“Pretty much what I said!” Jeimy laughed, ecstatic. “Beatriz is here, and she’s just divine.”

“Oh, Jeimy,” Taylor said, “you know it’s torture I can’t send you a hug down the phone, right?”

But even with the distance she could feel the happiness that radiated forth, and knew the same would be received. Then, the inevitable happened, and Taylor had to contend with tears streaming down her face. Her baby’s baby was here-- there was no way she wasn’t crying.

“H-how was it? Quicker than last time at least.”

“Everything went smoothly; I almost can’t believe it. It’s like… it’s like all the tension’s gone now… the scariest part is over. Liv’s feeling a bit wrecked for talking right now, but she’s happy. So, so happy.”

“Can we… can we tell the kids?”

Jeimy laughed, giddy. “Yeah, go ahead! We’ll get you to bring them down to the hospital soon-- we can’t wait to see them, just want to make sure Livi rests a little first.”

“Just… enjoy the peace and quiet with your little baby, okay?”

“And kisses for everyone from us, all right, mijo?”

“I’ll see to it-- I’ll see to it. You’ll give the kids a big squeeze from us as well! Love you-- love you-- bye!”

Estela hung up the phone and squealed, pulling a laughing Taylor into her arms for the tightest of hugs.

“We’ve got another granddaughter!” Taylor wept.

________________________

Liv’s eyelids were heavy as she watched the babe’s chest rise and fall. Their little Beatriz had made it earthside. There was no doubt in Liv’s mind; there would be no more babies for her and Jeimy. She couldn’t handle the rollercoaster. It would be her, and Jeimy, and Andi and Sol, and Beatriz… and that was all she’d ever need.

Safe and swaddled in her crib, an arm’s reach away from her exhausted mother, Beatriz had drifted off easily. Even bruised and swollen from the delivery, there was so much character in her little face.

“She looks like Sol did,” Liv whispered. “Not quite as much hair.”

At Liv’s other side, Jeimy was serene, sat up against their pillow. “I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for nine months,” they admitted. “It’s nice to breathe again.”

“I know the feeling,” Liv said. “At this point I’ll welcome the sleepless nights with open arms-- I’m just so relieved to have her here.”

Jeimy scooched closer and stroked Liv’s face. “How are you feeling? Physically, I mean.”

Liv looked up at them with a loving smile. “Very sore, very tired.”

Worth it, she thought, and she turned back to once again admire the little life she’d brought into the world. Oh my god, you are worth it.

____________________________

“Surely, no parent of a newborn in history has ever thought ‘oh, let’s have a party-- I could use some further disruption of my sleep patterns!” Aleister proclaimed. “And yet,” he added, “here we are.”

“I think ‘party’ is a strong word,” Taylor said. “Just a little get-together; good company, barbecue, and some fruit punch.”

Jeimy came over and hugged their uncle-in-law, welcoming him into the backyard, set up with lights and tables. “We’re not completely crazy; doing this at home means Liv and I can bolt upstairs with the baby and hide away at the drop of a hat. And if anyone was gonna disturb us, Mama ‘Stel would sort them out. Besides-- we’re not entertaining or anything, hence having everyone bring a plate and do their own dishes. Surrounding ourselves with love, but with as little of the hassle as possible.”

Aleister chuckled. “I can’t say I don’t still think you’re quite mad but… I see some of the appeal.”

Jeimy met his eye. “It means a lot Reggie coming home for us. I can’t say how much Liv’s missed him.”

“However all-singing-and-dancing the technology may get, it’s never the same as in person, is it? I hope it does Liv good,” he said sincerely. Aleister had been close to Liv all her life, for she and his own child Reggie had been something of a dynamic duo since before either could remember. She was his niece and he loved her, and through her mental health struggles he’d wished he could do more. It had been easier to be there for Estela, knowing that his support had helped her to be there for Liv. Reggie, he knew, was the healing balm that old Uncle Al could never be.

Thankfully, in the minds of the two parents of the new baby, the gathering had been able to be kept small and quiet-- certainly by the standards set by their ever-growing extended family. Naturally, Estela and Taylor were there, and Rosa with toddler Leo. Diego had made the trip from La Huerta a week prior, an additional support for Liv and Jeimy. Sean and Jake’s son Michael, proud donor uncle to baby Beatriz, as well as Liv’s older two children and Rosa’s unborn baby, was along for the fun; he’d taken up position as Chief of Fun and was keeping Andi and Sol out from their exhausted parents’ feet. His fiance and Michelle and Quinn’s youngest, Conor, was there to offer him assistance with the kids. Reggie was the guest of honour, the reason this whole thing was even happening-- and his sisters with their respective families, and Aleister and Grace rounded out the guestlist.

The back door swung open.

“Here she is!” Liv cried, stepping out with, cradled in her arms, a tiny bundle of baby in a puffy floral dress and a great big bow.

Michael turned to Jeimy and laughed. “What happened to the ‘gender neutral’ thing you were doing?”

“Hey. Flowers are for any and all genders.” Jeimy rolled their eyes teasingly. “Anyway, we gave up with the unisex name-- Spanish names are so damn gendered-- so thought ‘screw it, just put her in dresses if we like them’.”

“She looks cute,” Michael said, “but she’s gonna have to grow into that bow.” He held out his arms. “Cuddle with Uncle Michael?”

Liv chuckled, and carefully passed over the baby. As little Beatriz was placed in his arms, Michael absolutely beamed. There was no doubt he’d be as besotted over this kid as he was Andi and Sol.

“Damn, she’s cute!” he exclaimed. “You people are making me want a baby so bad. I’m pretty lucky to be a ‘donor uncle’ in the meantime, hey?”

“And we really appreciate it,” Liv was quick to say. Michael had basically given her the family she loved so much, and there were simply no words for what that meant. What was more, he’d given Liv’s Mama Taylor a genetic tie to her grandchildren-- a sort of link she’d once only dreamed of. Their family was unconventional, but in Liv’s eyes, it was all the more wonderful for what had been overcome to bring them to this moment, together. “It’s gonna be a pretty good excuse to get out to La Huerta regularly once Rosa’s bub’s here. We may have to tag along now and then-- I’m not having you usurp my position as ‘coolest visiting relative’.”

“I hate to break it to you, Liv,” Michael said, shaking his head in feigned sorrow, “but Jeimy sings, plays guitar, and has a talking parrot. You’ve never had the top spot to begin with.”

“Dude-- I can take my baby back---”

“Geez, touchy much! At least I know when I’m beat.”

“Just enjoy that cuddle, I’m pretty sure madam’s gonna be in high demand this evening.”

Content that her baby was in good hands, Liv felt comfortable enough to move a few feet away to check up on her older two. They’d blown her away with how they’d taken the new arrival in their stride; Sol was easy-going as usual, but Andi she’d been more concerned about, demanding as she was for fun and attention that simply was not in as high supply these days. But Andi doted on her baby sister, and was forever clamouring to be involved and help out. Now, the twosome had apparently roped Uncle Conor into a game of horsey-ride, with Andi was putting her newfound maternal side to use in steadying two-year-old Leonel with her hand as he had his turn, and Sol ripping up handfuls of grass to feed their new ‘pet’. Liv took an exhale and relaxed. Her little family was surrounded by love.

Then she turned, and there was the face she’d been desperately yearning to see.

“Reggie!”

“I told you, I’d be here, I’m not sure what all the fuss is abo--”

Liv flung her arms around her cousin, her best friend, and squeezed him with all her might.

“Steady on! You always have to be over-the-top about everything, don’t you,” he grumbled good-naturedly, but he kissed her the top of her head as she cried against his chest. He hugged her back, and gave a trembling exhale. “Now that I have you in person; congratulations.”

Liv came away to rub her teary eyes with the back of a hand. “I knew you were coming and everything, ‘m just a bit hormonal for this!”

She put her hands on her hips and took a few deep breaths, righting herself, then looked up at Reggie with a massive grin. He’d been with her through it all… both their spouses had been pregnant at the time, but she and Jeimy had lost their Avis, while Reggie and Mariama had brought home their healthy and bright Olivette-- named in tribute to their bond. Even struggling with parenting a newborn as well as his other two kids, Reggie had always found time for his old cousin, and it was a rare week that would pass without a call between London and San Trobida.

“How have you been?” he asked, “And don’t give me sass because I know childbirth can be godawful….”

“You really think I’d sass you?”

“Sure as bloody hell you would…. But are you doing all right? Other than obviously being touched in the head to have a blasted party of all things so soon after bringing a baby home. I just… I’d like to know you’re doing well.”

“We’re adjusting to the new normal,” she told him. “I’m adjusting… slowly but surely. And there’s grief that’s coming up, but I expected that. Mostly… I’m caught up in loving my baby girl, and so, so damn thankful that she’s here.” She grinned. It was as though she couldn’t think about her little Beatriz without doing so. “Do you wanna meet Bea? She’s having a cuddle with Uncle Michael right now.”

Reggie’s eyes lit up. “I did come all this way, I won’t not say ‘hi’. Actually, I may have promised Sammy and Ange that I send a few photographs-- it’s almost as though the need proof I’m actually here and taking meeting the new little cousin seriously.”

Liv laughed. “I’m sure we can manage that!” She took him by the elbow. “Come on-- you flew all the way from London, you get to skip the cuddle queue.”

And she took him to get acquainted with the baby, beaming as she walked him through a backyard filled with the smiling faces of the people she loved so much-- all there for her. Soon, they’d gather together, and raise a glass; to family, to good times, and to Beatriz Estela Montoya.

[tabsters]

The Twelve Days of Zodiacs - Day 8

"On the eighth day of Christmas, my Zodiacs gave to me, Eight drinkers drinking, Seven bakers baking, Six ornaments, Five ugly sweaters, Four wrapped presents, Three snowmen, Two bread rolls, And a snowball fight under a tree."

it should be noted that this story is in a modern AU, aka an AU where no magic exists. everyone is just normal and untraumatized! the modern AU names for the characters are listed below:

SGZ! Scorpio: Scott SGZ! Scutum: Jasper SGZ! Ophiuchus: Oberon SGZ! Perseus: Percy SGZ! Orion: Elliot SGZ! Centaurus: Russell

tagging @mythicalmagical-monkeyman @hyperfixation-tangentopia @maiawhimsicalt @sweet-star-cookie

next chapter is here!

"Your brother's coffee shop is pretty cute," Ciara said as they walked through the doors, the bell jingling. The place was decorated with various Christmas decorations, with wreaths, fake sprigs of mistletoe and holly, and tinsel all around. "Maybe I should work here when I'm older."

"My brother doesn't own Moonbeans Cafe," Cassie laughed, waving to the barista on duty. "There he is, though."

"Cass!" Cassie's brother—Ciara forgot his name, but she knew that it started with a D—waved the two of them over. "And Ciara, right? What do you guys want? It's on the house."

"I can pay!" Ciara announced, rummaging through her bag for her wallet. Now that she was up close, she could see that Ciara's brother's name tag read Demitri. "You don't need to do that!"

"It's fine, it's fine," Demitri said, waving her off. "We got a lot of tips earlier, anyway. Huge rush of people for lunch."

"Well, if you're sure..."

"Hot chocolate!" Cassie pointed to the menu. "With whipped cream and sprinkles."

"Uh, can I get..." Ciara scanned the menu, trying to see which item was the least expensive. She felt kind of guilty for just taking free drinks. "The peppermint mocha?"

"Coming right up!" Demitri said cheerfully. It seemed like he was the only barista on duty. Perhaps everyone else was taking a break, as there was only one other person in the coffee shop.

And then someone else walked into the shop. Ciara could physically feel her heart stop and constrict.

"Shit!" Ciara whispered, immediately going to hide herself behind Cassie. "Hide me!"

"Huh?" Cassie asked, confused, and not just because she was much shorter than Ciara and would undoubtedly be awful at hiding her. "What? Why?"

"There's...ah, there's someone from school here."

Cassie craned her head at the figure who was now sitting at one of the tables, getting their sketchbook out. Ciara was internally screaming, crying, and cursing every god she could think of.

"Who's that?" Cassie asked, eyes widening as she began to realize something. Ciara's face felt like it was on fire, and she was pretty sure she was becoming as red as a lobster. "Is that...aww, Ciara, is that your crush?"

"Not so loud," Ciara hissed, clamping her hands around Cassie's mouth and dragging her to a table far, far away from her crush. "He might hear you."

"Who is he, anyway?" Cassie asked, still trying to get a better look at him. "Have you never talked to him in your life?"

Ciara sighed, deeply. She was lucky that her crush was wearing his enormous chunky headphones, the ones he used whenever he was locking in for drawing. "He's in my art class. He's been in my classes ever since middle school. We used to be close."

He was wearing a black beanie paired with a dark gray sweater, his eyeliner swept into cat eyes. He was fidgeting with a loom band bracelet done in the colors of the trans flag, the look in his eyes filled with quiet determination.

"...Ciara? Helloooo? Earth to Ciara?" Ciara abruptly realized that she had zoned out, and that Cassie was snapping her fingers in front of her face in an attempt to resuscitate her.

"Anyway!" Ciara said loudly as Demitri called out, 'Hot chocolate and peppermint mocha!' She stood up abruptly, almost knocking her chair over. "I'm gonna go get that for us!"

She very quickly walked over, grabbed the drinks, and then speed walked back to the table. She then proceeded to down a fourth of her drink in one gulp. Cassie looked like she was part enjoying Ciara's panic and part concerned for her friend's wellbeing.

"Oh, I know that guy!" Cassie said, pointing to the man sitting behind them. Ciara turned his head to look at him. He had dark hair, and he had eyebags so dark, they looked like bruises. He was typing furiously on his laptop. His black hoodie was pulled over his head and he kept pushing his glasses up his nose. A thick purple scarf was wrapped around his neck, partially covering his mouth. There were also three empty coffee cups sitting on his table. He looked very tired and very much done with life.

"Who's that?" Ciara asked, because he looked like he was in desperate need of a nap. "And how do you know him?"

"He's a frequent customer around here. He's always here when I come to visit." Cassie shrugged. "Wanna go talk to him?"

Ciara glanced towards the figure in the corner, and decided that it was a great idea to get out of his line of sight as quickly as possible. "Yeah, let's."

"Oh, Cassie!" Demitri called from the counter, holding a box in his arms. "Flicker was in the back. He's been at the vet all morning, so he's kind of tired." Cassie's face lit up.

"Flicker!" Cassie rushed forward to take the box. Inside was a tiny hamster, its little mouth opening and closing as it snored. "Did you miss me? Were the vets mean to you? Hey, Scott! Look at my hamster!"

The tired-looking man glanced in their direction as they approached him. He nodded, once, and then returned to his furious typing. Ciara distantly thought that he could kick ass at typing.com.

"Aren't you going to take a break?" Cassie asked, setting the hamster box onto Scott's table. "It's the holiday season! Are you really going to spend it alone?"

Scott sighed, but shut his laptop. "Very well. I shall look at your hamster."

He bent his head down to the plastic box, watching as the tiny golden hamster slowly woke up. "Good evening, Flicker. I hope your day has been well?"

Flicker tilted its head up at the man, possibly also wondering why Scott was so tired.

"My day has been tiring. This morning was filled with many phone calls and much paperwork," Scott continued. Ciara had to stifle a laugh, because the sight of a grown man talking in such formal language to a tiny hamster was objectively hilarious. "It must be nice, living the life of a hamster."

"What do you even do?" Cassie asked as Flicker retreated back into its little hamster house. "I've asked you so many times and I never get an answer."

"I told you every time," Scott said, opening his laptop up again. "I work in a high-ranking government position."

"That's not a proper answer at all."

"I completely agree!" A new voice said, coming in from the back door. "You really must be more honest, especially when talking to me."

Ciara turned to look at the newcomer, who was a short, stout man with a bright orange jacket. He smiled up at the two girls, took a sip of his coffee, then took a seat across from Scott.

"I see you've met my friend here," He said, poking Scott's hand until he closed the laptop again. "I'm Jasper. Medic at the local hospital. He and I seem to be meeting quite a lot."

"I've seen you around!" Cassie said, sitting down next to him. "You always tip really well. My brother likes you."

"Hi, Jasper," Scott sighed, looking like he wanted to combust into thin air. "I have work to do. My job is very busy."

"You've been working for the entirety of the holidays," Jasper said cheerfully, quickly snatching the man's laptop away. "Take a break for at least one day."

Scott looked between all three of the hopeful faces before them and finally sighed once more. "Okay. If you insist."

"You're wearing the scarf I gave you!" Cassie pointed to the purple scarf around Scott's neck. Scott himself looked down at himself, seemingly noticing this himself. "The one I made you last Christmas!"

"Yes. I am. It's very warm." Scott rubbed the scarf between his fingers. "Thank you for making it for me."

"Are you wearing the mittens I gave you?" Jasper asked, leaning across the table. "I thought they suited you very well!"

Scott sighed some more, pulling two mittens out of his pocket, which had knitted scorpions on their fronts. "I took them off, but I was making good use of them earlier."

"Good!"

-

They then spent at least an hour chatting with Scott—or more like, they talked to Scott, and he gave one sentence answers. Ciara had to stifle laughs many times, because this man just seemed so blunt and straight-forward all of the time.

"Dude, I had to google 'what does stabbing feel like' once, because I was writing a horror story for English," Ciara laughed. "I got called to the principal's office and I had to spend half an hour explaining myself."

"I was stabbed once," Scott said, but Jasper quickly talked over him with some comments about how he hoped Ciara wrote stab wounds in an accurate way. 

"You wouldn't believe how many people overestimate or underestimate the amount of blood you can get from a stab wound," Jasper said, quickly getting interrupted by his ringing phone. He turned it to FaceTime. "Hello?"

"Jasper, we need you." A man with bleached white hair said, speaking while walking. A dark green mask covered his lower face. "As soon as possible. We—where on Earth are you?"

"Coffee shop, Oberon," Jasper said cheerfully. "I'll be there in a bit!"

The medic quickly stood up, shaking everyone's hands in quick succession. "Wonderful to see you all. I must be off!"

And then he exited, leaving Scott to grab at his laptop again. Scott looked up at Ciara and Cassie again. "You shouldn't be bothering with an old man like me. Go hang out with your friends. I saw you looking at that one guy earlier."

"Yes, that's right!" Cassie clapped her hands together, turning Ciara back around to look at her crush. Oh no. "You should go hang out with mystery guy."

Ciara made a couple of weak sounds of protest as Cassie pushed her closer and closer towards her crush. He didn't look up, not even as they stood directly next to him.

Cassie tapped him lightly on the shoulder, and he looked up, taking his headphones off. "Hi!"

"Hi?" He asked, looking between Cassie and Ciara. "Oh! Ciara! I didn't expect to see you here."

Ciara breathed in, out, in. "Hi, Kai."

"My brother works here," Cassie said cheerfully. "So we decided to hang out here, and then Ciara recognized you."

"I—yep, yep, I did." Ciara nodded her head up and down. She felt like a bobblehead. "How—how have you been?"

"I've been good!" Kai laid his hands in his lap, and Ciara didn't miss how Cassie was slowly inching further and further away from them. "AP Psychology has been kicking my ass, though."

"Ah—ha, yeah, me too."

"Hey, sit down." Kai gestured towards the chair across from him. He moved some of his stuff out of the way. "I wanna catch up."

So Ciara sat.

"Didn't you win an award for one of your pieces?" Kai asked, flipping through his sketchbook. "The piece that had those two girls. You've really improved since middle school, huh?"

"I mean, I guess." Ciara tapped her fingers on the table. She really wanted to see what Kai was sketching the entire time he was here. But she knew how sacred sketchbooks were to artists—she'd kill anyone that touched her own sketchbook without permission—so she kept her mouth shut.

"I was wondering, can you give me some advice?" Kai flipped to a page near the end, showing it to Ciara. "I'm planning on entering this into the spring show next year."

"Oh. Okay, sure." Ciara scrutinized the sketch, looking for areas of improvement. It was of a girl looking into a mirror, reaching her hand out. Her reflection was that of a boy’s, his hair cut shorter than the girl’s.

“Is this about…dysphoria?” Ciara asked, knowing how sensitive the subject might be to Kai. When they were in middle school, Kai had been the target of bullying and scorn. It was part of what led them to drift apart. “It’s very well drawn.”

Kai nodded. “Yeah, it is. And thank you.”

“Well, in terms of advice, I’d—" Ciara was cut off as the door opened again.

“Cassie!” It was three boys, all of them rushing towards Cassie. One of them was wearing a purple hoodie, one of them was carrying a green messenger bag, and one of them had dark blue hair. Wow, Cassie really did have a lot of friends. Ciara swallowed, turning her attention back to the sketch.

“Well, the perspective between the hand and the mirror is a bit off. I think that it would be better if the angle was slightly more like this.” Ciara made a few vague hand movements, knowing that Kai would pick up on what she was trying to convey. A pang of nostalgia resonated within her chest as she remembered how they used to do this exact same thing when they were younger.

“Oh yeah, I thought that as well. There’s a rougher sketch on the next page.”

“Alright.” Ciara turned the page, looking at the sketch on the back of the page. “Alright, yeah, so—"

A sketch on the next page caught her eye. It was of a girl with a headband, with big, dark eyes, mouth open in laughter—

It was of her. The date below the sketch was today.

That was what Kai had been working on the entire time he was here.

“What are you looking at—?” Kai asked, leaning over to look at the page. His face then paled, then went bright red, in rapid succession. Ciara might have thought it was funny, if her face wasn’t doing the exact same thing.

“Anyway!” Ciara said loudly, quickly closing the sketchbook and all but shoving it back towards Kai. Kai quickly took it and shoved it in his backpack. “The perspective’s really my only issue with it. Uh, why don’t you come back to me with the lineart and we’ll talk more?”

“Yeah, sure!” Kai nodded and smiled, just like how he used to do in middle school. Ciara could feel her heart physically skip a beat. “You still have my phone number, right?”

“I actually got a new phone in freshman year,” Ciara said, pulling out her phone. “You can put it in.”

“Nice.” Kai did a double-take when he saw her wallpaper. “Yo, is this Alien Stage? I love that series!”

“Really?” Ciara asked in disbelief. “You like Alien Stage too?”

“Are you kidding? I’m Ivan’s biggest fan.” He quickly turned his phone on, showing Ciara his lock screen. It was a piece of fanart depicting the iconic Till and Ivan kiss from Round 6. “Did you see the newest video?”

“Dude, no! My heart can’t take any more sadness after Round 6!”

Both of them laughed. Kai’s phone chimed, and there was a twinge of disappointment on his face. “Dammit, I have to go now. But it was really nice to see you again, Ra-ra.”

He used my childhood nickname. Ciara thought belatedly. “Nice to see you too, uh—"

She hesitated. Kai no longer went by the name he did when he was younger. So much had changed. Kai seemed to notice this as well.

“Kiki,” Ciara declared, and Kai laughed. “That’ll be your new nickname.”

“Alright, alright,” Kai said. “I accept the name Kiki. Oh, wait-“

He pointed above them. Ciara looked up, to find a single bundle of mistletoe above their heads. She looked back at Kai’s face, and she could tell that both of them were blushing.

“I gotta kiss you, huh?” Kai asked. He then seemed to realize that he might be overstepping quite a bit. “I mean—not that I’ll do it if you don’t want me to—"

Ciara slowly held out her hand, and Kai took that as his signal. He slowly bent his head down, delivering a quick peck onto Ciara’s knuckles.

“Okayseeyoubye!” Kai stammered out, grabbing all of his things and fleeing the cafe. Ciara stared after him, dazed.

“Yeah!” Cassie shouted suddenly, and Ciara whirled around to find her and the three boys clapping for her.

“I’m never washing my hand again,” Ciara said as she approached the table. The boys—Russel, Elliot, and Percy, as Cassie helpfully informed her—all gave her thumbs ups.

“See?” Cassie rested her head on her hands. “It turned out fine, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ciara took a sip of her now room temperature mocha, smiling. “It really did turn out fine.”

this is your signal to watch alien stage please you can watch the entire thing in less than an hour I am indoctrinating all of my mutuals into the pain of alien stage PLEASEEEEEE

check out @sweet-star-cookie's starglass zodiac lore if you liked this!! questions about my lore are greatly appreciated!!

[pudgewizard]

Gay Pastries

This is a Fionna and Cake (2023) fanfiction that includes stuffing, burps and belly noises. If you don't like this, please don't read. Thank you, and for the rest of you, enjoy <3

Marshall Lee laid against the brick wall, guitar in hand. He looked down at his guitar case; only about a couple bucks in there so far. Lee hoped to make more, so he could afford a place away from his mom.

So he lifted up his guitar, held the curve with his knee, and began strumming.

Tumbleweeds and Rattlesnake-

Grrrrbrbllle!

Lee was immediately thrown off his groove by his belly.

"Buddy," he jiggled his portly stomach. "It's my turn to sing, okay?"

brrrbl..

He couldn't afford a decent lunch with the money he had at the moment. But he felt his stomach writhe in hunger, pangs approaching by the minute. Then he remembered; the bag of cookies Fionna had given him. His mouth watered thinking about how wonderful they tasted.

As his belly bellowed a deep, sorrowful grumble, it was decided. Marshall was getting more cookies.

-

"Welcome to Butler's Buttery Buns!" A cheery Gary Prince greeted. "How may I be of service today?"

Marshall Lee scanned the pastries behind the glass and, while looking good, didn't find the gingerbread men.

"Would you like some help finding something?" Gary asked.

Marshall blushed.

"N-no, no," Lee chuckled nervously. "I'm good! I was just..browsing..I should really get going-"

GRRRRBRBLLLE!..

Lee paused in his steps, frozen in his own cringe. His face flared up in temperature. He cringed even more as he heard the man behind the counter laugh gently.

"I.. I'm sorry. I'll leave you be-"

"No no! Don't go!" Gary rushed over. "That was just..cute is all. But golly, your tummy sounds ferocious."

Marshall looked at the man's face. His eyes sparkled like stars and he had the most adorable blush.

"So what were you looking for exactly?" Gary broke the silence.

"Oh! Um..I don't even know if you have them..my friend gave me these gingerbread men that had this delicious raspberry icing.."

"You thought they were delicious?!" Gary grinned.

Marshall backed up in surprise.

"Sorry." Gary chuckled. "I just…love baking those cookies. And it's great to hear feedback like that..very reassuring. Thanks.

"Wow. Um..you're welcome, I guess." Lee blushed.

"Unfortunately, we're out. In the meantime, I'm baking more in the oven. But I don't want you going anywhere on an empty belly."

"Oh please, um," Lee read Gary's name tag. "Gary! I appreciate it. But I don't have enough money to-"

"Friend. Baking is a passion of mine. I don't do it for the money. It's on the house."

-

Luckily, his boss went home for the night, so Gary wouldn't suffer repercussions for giving away free pastries. He flipped the sign to 'closed', and then led Marshall to the break room.

"So while we wait for the cookie men to finish baking, I want you to try some other pastries I made! This one's an eclair with cream cheese inside."

Rrrrr…

"Wow…" Marshall took the eclair and took a bite out of it. Cream cheese poured into his mouth. But the icing on top perfectly balanced it out. It made his taste buds open up.

"This is so amazing!" Marshall tried to say, but his mouth was full, so it came out as, 'Fis if fo amafim!'.

"Chew with your mouth closed, cutie." Gary chuckled as he blushed. Marshall blushed back. He turned his attention to finishing the eclair. He licked the icing and cream cheese off his fingers once he finished. Lee patted his stomach in satisfaction.

"Goodness!" Gary chuckled. "You finished that one quickly!"

"It was so good, Gary." Marshall laid back in his chair, rubbing his belly.

Gllllorp!

"Did you eat too fast?" Gary asked, worried.

"Nah.." Lee moaned slightly. "I'm still hungry, actually…"

"Oh.." Gary blushed. "Well, let me grab you some more treats I made!"

"How many do you have in there?"

"A lot… my boss doesn't let me sell my own treats.."

"That sucks balls. These pastries are like, the best I've had in a while. You deserve to share your art with the world!"

"I…." Gary sniffled. "Thank you..um.."

"Marshall Lee."

Brbebrbrble..

"And this is my belly." Lee patted his chubby middle. "I like to sing, but he also likes to chime in, uninvited."

"It's very nice to meet you two."

-

And so Gary kept bringing in pastries. From creme puffs, to crepes, to muffins, and so on. With every creamy or sweet treat, Marshall's belly grew pudgier. His belly gurgled no longer from hunger, but from satisfactory digestion. Gary looked upon Lee's belly with pleasure. It looked so soft and plump.

Ding!

"Ah! The gingerbread men are ready! I'll go icing them up!"

Gary left to the kitchen as Lee was left with his distended belly.

grrarrr..

"Aw, getting packed in there? I was just having fun.."

Lee began rubbing his stomach, but it just wasn't doing the job.

"Here they are!" Gary cheerfully came in with the cookies. "Oh my, you look positively stuffed, Lee."

"I know." Lee sighed. "But I want more…but my hands aren't helping calm my tummy down much.."

"Would you.." Gary began to blush. "Want me to help."

Marshall blushed back.

"Please. Of course."

Gary gently placed his hand on Marshall's belly. He could feel everything gurgling under his hand. It was so soft and warm, like a heated pillow. He began rubbing clockwise. Lee already felt better, yet flustered. His belly was throwing a tantrum in there, yet Gary didn't seem to mind. He just smiled warmly as he rubbed. So Marshall just laid back as he sighed in relief.

OOOUUUURP!

Marshall let out a humongous belch. Blushing, he covered his face.

"Excuse me.." Lee groaned.

"You're excused." Gary chuckled. "That's probably what had your tummy throwing a riot! You feel better?"

Marshall nodded as he sighed in relief.

"I think I…made enough room for those cookies.."

"Here, let me feed you. You've worked really hard today, Marshall Lee."