#might need to buy a new book box soon

[azoreaneve]

Iberanime very cool, way better than Comic Con

I now really regret not cosplaying as Sollux bc I'd have been the only Homestuck cosplayer afaik. At least, I saw none this day.

A ton of cool cosplayers were there, which was really the big selling point

I only bought a single key chain so ofc when I got home I promptly spent too much money on books

[the0racl30fd3lphi]

More than friends, less than lovers. x.t

pairing: xavier thorpe x gn!reader

summary: the whole hyde ordeal has faded slowly in the background as life carried on, the student body ready to grasp onto some new drama. luckily for them, a love triangle is exactly what they needed to fuel the gossip.

warnings: fluff, angst, love triangle (kinda)

a/n: y'all this idea literally came to me at 4 in the morning so please bear with me (as i also wrote it at the ass crack of dawn) i am so obsessed with percy and xavier and wanted to write this desperately, he is all i can think about.

word count: 1,727

part 2 part 3

——————————————————————————

You hated this. This, stage, between what you were and what you could be. Xavier was your best friend. He always had been, truth be told. Yet as soon as he broke up with Bianca your relationship had a shift. Suddenly somethings had a deeper connotation, a hidden meaning. You didn’t hate it. In fact, this was exactly what you had been waiting for for years. Until She came along.

You didn’t hate Wednesday, unfortunately. She had done nothing to spark your anger. It wasn’t like she was purposely making Xavier adore her. It looked like she would rather be without it, being honest. But did it annoy the hell out of you that he was so enamored with her so quickly, when she did nothing to give the idea that she would reciprocate? And yet he seemed to not want to give up on her? While simultaneously leading you on, making you believe you might have a romantic future with him? And being oblivious to the pain it caused? It was the only thing you ever thought about.

Genuinely, you wondered how he could still be so obsessed with her to buy her a phone, after she wrongfully got him imprisoned. If that wasn’t a walking red flag you didn’t know what was.

You and Xavier had stayed close throughout this internal turmoil you went through. It hurt like a bitch, but you’d be damned if you lost him over a girl he liked. Suppressing your feelings wasn’t anything you were stranger to, there were other ways to get out your thoughts.

Something you did often, that you’d never tell him was how frequently you abused mimicking his ability. At first he had found it interesting and expressed he had no problem with you copying his habits. But if he knew what you used it for he’d probably be mad.

Each night, after leaving his dorm and sneaking back into yours, you drew a photo from that day. What he looked like when he smiled. How he laughed. Taking into extreme detail his face, scrunched, while watching a show together. Though you weren’t really watching the show so much as watching him.

You kept these drawings in a box, under your bed, all the way in the back. It was hidden enough to never be seen or touched by anyone. So you used the late Rowan’s telekinesis ability to bring it out and put it back. Was this a healthy coping mechanism? Oh not at all, seeing as some drawings that originated from the latest of nights and most intimate moments, would have made Wednesday blush. Of course it's all innocent, right up until you put it down on paper.

"Drawing lover boy again?" Your best friend Val, barked at you from across the room.

"Lover boy? That's a new one," you softly put the new drawing of him in the box, and back under your bed in the furthest corner. "Not such an accurate name this time, you're losing your touch my friend."

"Well you wish it was, so close enough in my book," She shrugs and jumps onto your bed.

"Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades," you pull your laptop on your lap, and press play on your favorite show to watch together.

"You sound like your father," She gags and you playfully slap her arm before shushing her and cuddling into her side.

——————————————————————————

It was lunch the next day, you had a free period the class before so you were waiting for Xavier to show up at your usual bench in the quad. He was taking a little bit longer than normal so you started early on your homework.

"If it isn't Xavier's little girl," she paused. "friend."

"Bye Bianca," you waved and put the volume up on your phone.

“Where is he this time? With Wednesday maybe?" she crossed her arms and smiled maliciously. "It's already started!" She laughed.

You tried to mind your business, she only ever wants to cause problems and you know this. "What's started?" you kept your eyes on your work, putting the volume lower to hear her better.

“He's bored of you. Just like when he got bored of me and you two got closer? He's onto Wednesday now, and done with you." She raised her eyebrows and put on an innocent doe-eyed look. "Well, anyway, have a good lunch!"

She walked away and went back to her friends. You didn't want to believe it. Would Xavier really replace you with Wednesday? He couldn't, he wouldn't. Even when he was dating Bianca, sure you hung out less, but you were still in his life. She was just trying to get in your head right?

“Sorry I'm late, got a little held up in class," He put his stuff down next to him and grabbed some food from the lunch you packed for the two of you. Cooking had become a stress habit for you, so nightly you sneak into the kitchens and prepare something for the next day.

“What kept you?" You put your stuff in your bag and grabbed a snack from the pile.

"Class, I said that didn't I?" He talked through a mouthful of food.

“Yeah but, what kept you? The teacher? Extra work?” you tried to press while eating your half of the lunch.

“Uh, just some extra credit work, wanna bring my grade up you know?” His answer was strained, and his eyes looked anywhere but at yours. So you followed his gaze, to Wednesday.

“Yeah, for sure,” You mumbled and went back to eating. Even if you wanted to escape him for another hour, to try and calm the thoughts in your head, you couldn’t. You two had the same class next period and you always walked together.

——————————————————————————

The day felt strained, any conversation with Xavier fell off track and eventually died out too soon. It’d been too long since this pattern started. Ever since she came to Nevermore, things slowly got worse between you two. You weren’t as close as before and it killed you.

So like every night, afraid to break habit, you snuck out of Xavier’s dorm to hang out. Right before you were going to knock on the door you heard two hushed voices in the room.

“You can’t keep doing this Xavier, you’re hurting her.” a voice pressed him for answers, sounding upset.

“We’re fine, Ajax.” Xavier fought back, offended anyone would accuse him of doing anything to hurt you.

“How dense are you that everyone can see it, but you?” Ajax stressed the end of his sentence still trying to be quiet.

“See what!” Xavier was getting increasingly agitated.

Your grip on the handle faltered and it wiggled just loud enough for both boys to notice it. Suddenly the door was opening and you smiled sheepishly at Xavier, “Hi.”

“I’m gonna leave,” Ajax looked between the both of you and you moved out of the way for him to exit. He sent one last glance Xavier’s way before he closed the door and went back to his dorm.

“Sorry, did i interrupt anything?” You apologized, still feeling the tense air.

“No,” He ran a hand through his hair in the same manor that always drove you crazy. “Nothing important.”

And just as quick as your conversation, Xavier went to sketching as you made yourself comfortable in his bed with your book. How quickly he could make your heart speed up and then break it felt like a world record now.

——————————————————————————

It’s been two weeks now since you accidentally overheard Xavier’s conversation with Ajax that night. Things hadn’t changed between you two, and you can’t figure out if that’s a good thing or not yet. Val had been pushing you to just confront him about your feelings. She knew letting them simmer inside was doing no one any good.

So on a night similar to that one fateful evening, you mustered up the courage to finally ask him what you meant to each other.

“Hey Xavi,” you asked, leaning slightly to the side now as he turned around from the mural he was painting on his wall to look at you. “What do I mean to you?”

He seemed to freeze, face tinting slightly rosier, whether it was blush or anger you didn’t know yet.

“What do you mean?” He dipped his brush in the cup he used to clean them, going right back to his art. It made you study his face, his posture, before continuing your question.

“I mean, I know what you mean to me. I know what i feel for you,” you felt emboldened by seeing him try and play off his nervousness watching him tense and straighten his back. “But I don’t know what I am to you.”

He paused and blinked, it looked like he was going to say something but he made no move to speak. After two minuets he finally opened his mouth, “Where is this coming from? You’re my best friend, you’re.. I..” He trailed off.

“But it’s more than that. More than friends,” he flushed pink, taking in a large gulp. “But less than lovers.” His grip turned white on the brush as he slumped slightly. Still he made no move to speak, so you turned away and went to collect your things. Nothing was said between you two as you packed up what you brought and slung your bag over your shoulder.

As you slipped out the door and into the shadows, mimicking a poltergeist you had once seen and turning yourself almost completely invisible. No one could even hear you breath and you floated through the halls back your dorm.

And in the faint night hair, before you left the wing his dorm was in, you could’ve sworn you heard him call your name and try to get your attention. But it was futile as you just sped up and got back to your dorm quicker.

Val said nothing as you slumped into your bed, rolling your stuff off the side and curling up with a blanket in your arms. She must’ve been able to infer what happened, and she climbed in next to you to hold you as you silently wept. Not even a shake ran through you as the tears fell. No one could hear the sound of your heart shattering that night.

[lewkwoodnco]

buy me presents! - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: jealous!lockwood, gift giving (lockwood's version), I like to think I'm funny hehhe, maybe maybe veeery borderline crack fic? this is MY christmas present to myself and I WILL indulge in my favourite tropes so if you saw me kicking my feet like a thirteen-year-old, no u didnt. (I needed a concrete holiday for this so i used christmas but its all the same hehe) I've thrown the schedule out the window, it'll be a christmas miracle if all 12 fics even get written so happy holidays!!!!! wc 2.6k!!

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

She was sitting at the kitchen table, agonising over the horribly organised financial records of Lockwood & Co. As tedious as it was, she enjoyed the work the most out of the four of them, and had taken on the extra role of being somewhat of an accountant. She had lightly teased him about receiving a boost in her pay until she saw their dismal financial situation. The joke stopped being funny alarmingly quickly after that.

Lucy was hurrying through some last-minute packing, while George was trying to locate their train tickets, sporadically yelling through the house for Lockwood. She didn't have quite the heart to tell him that Lockwood had unfortunately escaped hours ago, winking at her as he had shrugged his coat on while she had been looking particularly ragged in the sea of receipts.

She hears the front door open, and after a minute or two, Lockwood walks into the kitchen, rosy-cheeked from the brisk morning air.

"How are the accounts?"

"Terrible. The only thing more astonishing that these bank statements is the fact that we somehow haven't gone bankrupt..." she presses a few more keys of her calculator. "...yet."

George yells again and they wince in unison.

"How long has that been going on?"

"Long enough. He's going to leave you here if you don't find him soon."

He sighed. The three of them were getting ready to leave for the holidays. Lucy was going back North to visit a friend, Lockwood and George were headed to George's for the holidays. She would have come to, but they were already at the max capacity and she had waved off their worries smoothly, since she had spent most of her Christmases alone as an agent. So, as much of a fuss Lockwood kicked up about it, she'd be celebrating Christmas in a cheery if empty 35 Portland Row.

"Are you sure you'll be alright on your own?"

"One of us has burnt a house down and it's not me. I like my chances."

"Still. Christmas, all alone?"

George yelled again, his voice entering a new octave.

"Christmas with peace and quiet, more like. You know, maybe they'd have space for me if you weren't bringing your mountain of hair products for you fancy hair."

He pulled his gloves off with a lazy smile.

"You think my hair's fancy?"

She rolled her eyes as Lockwood revealed a small delicate pastry box, sliding into the seat in front of her. She had had a feeling it was coming from the way he had been lingering in the kitchen.

"What's this?"

"Red velvet doughnut with those tiny candy cane sprinkles you like."

She traced the box longingly, feeling torn. "I thought Arif was fully booked with Christmas orders."

"He made an exception for you."

She raised her eyebrows.

"I might have...tipped him extra."

"Lockwood."

"You're going to be alone for the next week. It's the least I could do."

She looked at him sternly. Lockwood had the particularly bad habit of impulsive spending. She had carefully broached the topic of gift-giving with him before; namely, after the time he purchased an ornate decorative set of glass robins which she had casually expressed a vague interest in in passing. She tried to explain how gestures like that made her feel obligated to him, and he tried to explain it was the least he could do, given how much of their accounting work she shoulders. They never reached a satisfactory conclusion, and though he did tone it down afterwards, she would still come across the occasional trinket adorned with a frilly bow in her belongings.

It was this very spirit, in fact, that had inspired her to tediously and secretly work on creating a snow globe of 35 Portland Row for him. She couldn't find anything commensurate to the loving thoughtfulness behind each of his gifts, so the next best thing was one decent, homemade, meaningful present. Even though he was going away, she still wanted him to receive it on Christmas, so she had passed it to George. It had been a bit of a nerve-wracking decision, especially if she was being too forward, and she had a pair of snowmen socks at the ready for a backup, but now the snow globe was tucked safely in George's trunk and there was no going back.

"The least you could do is save your limited funds for things that actually matter." She pointedly flips her notebook close.

He reaches out towards her face but gets interrupted by Lucy yellnig at him from somewhere in the house for blocking the stairs with his bags. He scrambles off apologetically, nearly tripping over himself as her threats grow more vivid.

Their reserved cab, courtesy of George ("flagging down a cab one week before Christmas? In this economy?"), arrives and the four of them start piling way too much luggage in it. Just as they're about to leave, Lockwood hesitates and turns to her.

"It's not too late for me to stay."

She pushes him out the door, waving to the others as Lockwood stumbles clumsily down the steps.

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

"Y/N!"

"Lockwood? Hello?"

"Ho - How have you been?"

"What?"

There's a lot of commotion at the other end of the line. She had been waiting for them to call the past few days, and was eagerly settling down to hear all about the festivities. She can hear a thousand different sounds overlapping and the thuds of footsteps criss-crossing, mixed in with some familiar threats from unfamiliar voices. Huh. Though it did make sense that of all the things George might have inherited from his family, it would be this.

"Just a moment." She hears the kerfuffle die down and the crinkle of the telephone wire shifting. "Sorry, had to find a closet. Now, where were we?"

"Sounds busy."

"Oh, it is. But it's nice, meeting George's family. Had to fight them off with a stick to get to the telephone, though."

He hears the smile in her voice. "I can see that. So what have you been up to?"

"So much. Too much. Y/N, you cannot repeat this to George but...they take Christmas far too seriously."

"Really?"

"We spent an entire day picking out the tree. I am sick of Christmas cookies and it's only my second day here."

She frowned. "I told you to pace yourself."

"My fingers - oh, my poor fingers - worn down to the bone stringing popcorn and cranberries together."

"What's the popcorn for?"

"Hell if I know! They make Christmas look like an extreme sport."

She tried to suppress her smile, putting on a grave voice. "You have my sympathies."

"Good. Though I suppose it hasn’t been all bad. I liked the ornament painting. Plus, Belinda’s been helping me loads.”

“…Belinda?”

“George’s cousin. George’s somehow even busier than I am and I haven’t got a clue what’s going on sometimes, so she’s been a real help.”

“That’s nice,” she says bitterly. An uncomfortable silence follows.

“So, I was just saying, earlier, that I hope you're not feeling too lonely."

She lets him trail off, unhappily aware of how the only life and excitement the house had seen in the past three days was emnating solely from the telephone. She hadn't expected it to be this difficult to have a quiet Christmas.

"Oh, I'm fine." She stares at the Santa Claus figuring opposite her cynically. Saint Nicholas, indeed. "Just having a whale of a time with...Nicholas, here."

"Nicholas?"

An impulse brews in her head. It's a poor one, but she's got nothing to do, and it's Christmas.

"Yeah, Nicholas. I met him at the Christmas market. He's amazing, really."

"...Nicholas."

"Yeah."

"Never heard of him."

"He's a little bit older. I wouldn't expect you to know him."

"Hm."

"Anyway, I've hardly even noticed you've left, since we hang out together so much."

"So, you're spending time...with him?"

"Oh, he's not here right now. He's been a bit busy today at his..." she cast her eyes around wildly, landing on a a porcelain figurine of some grinning elves. "...workshop."

"Workshop?"

"He carves wood. He's a wood carver. You should see some of the ornaments he makes. He's great with his hands."

"I'm sure he is."

Lockwood gets too irritable to continue the conversation much further and they hang up soon after. By the time they were done, the sun had set and the house was in complete darkness: the perfect atmosphere for brooding. So what if he'd rather spend Christmas with girls like Belinda? She didn't care. Good...riddance.

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

A few days later, she collects the mail and finds an envelope addressed to her in Lockwood's narrow, slanted handwriting. She rips it open like a kid on Christmas morning, but her smile twists when she sees the Christmas card inside. There's a picture of George's entire extended family-and-friends, and Lockwood's hunched over in the corner, next to a girl with effortlessly pretty hair. They're wearing matching sweaters. Not the whole family, just the two of them. While she had always reluctantly accepted the occasional gift from him with an appropriate amount of embarrassment, nothing could have prepared her for the sight of undeniable proof that he just might do the same for others. Picking out a present, spending his money, on her? Disgusting.

It's enough to make her jam it forcefully under the telephone. Next to it, she spies the slip of paper with George's personal telephone number jotted down, in case of an emergency. She drums her fingers impatiently while the phone rings, eyeing the clock while she adds in the time difference. She feels so stupid over the snow globe now. What on earth had possessed her? If she's lucky, Lockwood might have gone to bed by now and she just might catch George-

"H'llo?" Lockwood's sleep-roughened voice strains through the static hum.

"Nothing, go back to sleep."

"Y/N?"

"You're dreaming. Hush now. Good night-"

"Y/N." He sounds wide awake now, and she can hear him start to sit up. The plainness in his voice starts to fade as he gets steadily mroe assertive. "Is something wrong?"

"No, everything's fine. I didn't realise it would be so late for you. Listen - is George there?"

"He's helping with the caramel apples."

"Ah. Do you think you could tell him to phone me when he has the time?"

"Oh, no worries, I'll see him at dinner later. I can pass the message."

She swears internally. "Oh it's nothing. Just wanted to have a chat, see how he was doing."

"He's doing fine."

There's an awkward silence. She can tell he's barely convinced, and the discomfort from the Christmas card prickles at the back of her neck.

"Get anything in the mail?"

"I haven't checked," she lied, clenching the card in her hand. Stupid, lousy card. It was ridiculously childish but really; her acquired expensive taste was his fault for encouraging it in the first place. "I've just been so busy with Nicholas, you know."

"I see."

"Why? Did you mail something over?"

"Just a Christmas card. No big deal."

"Aw. Thanks." She wants to curl up and die. The snow globe was most definitely overkill. She should have gone with the socks.

"Did Nicholas get you anything?"

"He really only goes by Nick."

She can hear the distaste in his voice. "A nickname. How...quaint."

"We went to see The Nutcracker, and took a walk in the park, if you really must know." It had been more like her sitting alone in the park, miserably tossing the pigeons with small kernels of roasted chestnuts.

"Oh. Did he...get you a gift?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I don't. He just sounds like a..." His voice changes and she can tell he's pulling some kind of face. "...like an interesting person."

"He is."

"Good."

"Great."

"Glad we cleared that up."

They fume at each other through the phone for a while.

"I talked to George, by the way. He doesn't remember a Nicholas either."

"Yes, well, that's because...he doesn't stay here. In London. No, he's part of a, whaddyacallit, travelling group with the, er, Christmas market."

"Like...a circus?"

"...yes."

"Well. As long you're having fun..."

"I am. So much fun." She had a white-knuckle grip on the telephone. Why was she tearing up?

"Merry Christmas, Y/N," he whispers. His voice somehow still manages to sound soft and measured over the telephone, as if he were sitting right next to her. And even through the telephone, he sounds sad.

"Merry Christmas Lockwood."

She pulls the card from under the telephone, staring at the family picture. She flips it and sees a short message scrawled hurriedly at the back.

'Thinking about things that matter. Thinking about you.'

The dial tone reverberates through her skull.

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

She wakes up suddenly the next morning, and she can't figure out why. It's so cold and quiet that it takes her a minute to remember that it's Christmas Eve. She has approximately two seconds to wallow in self-pity before the racket starts back up. Someone's knocking firmly at the door, loud enough to make her head pound, interspersed with some heated yet unintelligible conversation with someone else.

She opens the door and almost immediately gets the wind knocked out of her. It's Lockwood, wearing a ridiculously tinseled Santa hat, hands full of shopping bags. There's also a majorly peeved George standing behind him, carrying their bags and, surprisingly, even more shopping bags.

Lockwood hands her one of the bags, which she numbly takes, before pulling her in for a hug, and it all happens so quick it takes her a minute or two for her mind to catch up with what's happening.

"L-huhh? George? Wha- Aren't you supposed to be -"

"Surprise! Couldn't bear the thought of you having to spend Christmas all alone. Close the door behind the presents, George, you're letting the cold in."

George grumbles something about his mother never letting him live this down and where he can stick the presents. She gapes at the presents in alarm, dizzy at the sight of the avalanche of multicoloured bows.

"These can't all be for me. Right? Right?"

Lockwood bulldozes past her as if she hadn't even said anything. "Unless, of course, Nicholas is here! Is he?"

"Lockwood, wai-"

"I wonder if he got you these many presents. I'm sure he tried his best, of course, poor chap."

"Will you stop, for a minute?"

"That's his jacket, isn't it? He stayed the night, didn't he? Wait." He stops so abruptly and looks so crestfallen that something tugs at her in her chest. "He stayed the night?"

"Lockwood." A lot had happened in the past minute, but she was finally caught up. Even though she knows it's her fault for making him up in the first place, she never meant for it to get this far. "Nicholas isn't here, because there is no Nicholas. It was a joke. I'm spending Christmas all alone, I had to do something. I made him up for kicks.

George throws his head back and starts laughing, dropping the shiny shopping bags around the two of them, laughter fading as he wades his way to the kitchen. Now that he's calmed down, even Lockwood has enough decency to look slightly embarrassed.

"Dear God, don't tell me you came all the way back over Nicholas."

"I...I didn't. I had...all these presents..."

It's a lame excuse, and even he realises it when he looks at her face. He stands there for a very long minute, and then very suddenly walks to his room, leaving her surrounded by the sea of bags and frenzily wrapped presents. He turns stiffly at his bedroom door with a mildly stern, completely unabashed expression on his face. She has to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from grinning.

"Merry Christmas."

TAGLIST: @mischivana @dangelnleif @avdiobliss @mitskiswift99 @elenianag080 @houseoftwistedspirits

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Elementary, Finale:

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ only—i choose not to list warnings for this one as not to spoil anything but you know how we get down over here on GMNO, happy endings only. read at your own discretion.) unedited/not proofread (for now)

wc: 7k

series masterlist | joel masterlist

June, 2004

“Don’t you dare,” Joel ordered as he surprised you from the doorway of your bedroom—your former bedroom.

You stood in front of a stack of cardboard boxes labeled “linens”, your hands resting on two sides as though you were caught mid-lift. He walked over to you with a smirk, shaking his head before lifting the box for you.

“You’re already carrying enough,” he said, eyes falling to your swollen belly, six-months into your first pregnancy.

“I think I’m more than capable of carrying a box of sheets,” you countered with a matching smirk, reaching for the box that sat below the one he just stole from you.

“Uh-uh,” Tommy came rushing in, sweeping the box from your grasp. “You got my nephew to worry about.”

“How do you know I’m having a boy?” you asked, following your fiancé and soon-to-be brother in law out of your old home to watch them load the moving truck.

“I can just feel it,” he replied, earning a smile from his older brother.

“I’m still hopin’ for another girl,” Joel admitted as he walked down the rickety metal ramp to meet you as you stood in the walkway, his hands sliding over your belly to rest on your waist. He placed a sweet kiss on your lips before letting you go. “You should go sit in the sunroom with Sarah and Jessie. Make sure they’re keepin’ room for Jesus and all that.”

“Oh, let them be. Not like we have to worry about teen pregnancy—“

“Alright, alright.” Joel covered his ears, wincing at the thought. “Still, I don’t want you workin’ too hard.”

“Joel, I promise, I’m not working hard at all. You and Tommy won’t give me the chance.”

“That’s how it should be,” he countered, walking inside the house with you following behind.

“Guys, guess what?” Sarah and her newly defined girlfriend, Jessie burst into the half-packed kitchen as you stood slowly making your way through your pantry, organizing a keep pile and a donate pile. Joel lifted a brow at her as he started on taking the metal barstools that stood at your kitchen island apart so that they could take up less room in the truck. “Britney Spears is coming to San Antonio next month.”

“Praise to the heavens,” Joel mumbled under his breath, earning a chuckle from you as you rolled you eyes at his lackluster reaction.

“That’s fun!” you replied, looking at the two fifteen year-olds. “How much are tickets?”

“Like thirty bucks,” Jessie sighed, frowning. “My mom’s gonna make me work at the restaurant to earn it.”

“Well, she’s got the right idea,” Joel stood, having disassembled the first stool. “Sarah, why don’t you come work with me and Tommy this week and I’ll buy your ticket.”

“Really?” she asked with a hopeful smile before remembering her fathers line of work. “Wait—at the site? I won’t know what to do.”

“I’m sure we can find somethin’ for you to do.”

“Yeah, I mean…Britney’s worth it,” Sarah sighed and shrugged before walking back into the sunroom with Jessie in tow.

“Hey, did I tell you we got a new hire?” Joel spoke to you as he started on the second stool.

“Oh, that’s good. I thought you were having trouble finding someone?”

“We were, but she got the seal of approval from Tommy. Guess she’s a real jack-of-all-trades type’a builder. S’just what we needed.” You smiled at him proudly, his construction company having taken off this last year and a half. They were almost too busy, too booked, leaving Joel and Tommy to stay behind and work the amount of four people instead of two just so that their projects remained on time. “Hopefully might start gettin’ two days off a week instead of one.”

“That would be nice,” you hummed, walking over to him to slide your hand over his sweaty but irresistible back as he crouched down to unscrew some bolts from the legs of the stool. “I’ve been like a lonely little housewife these last few months. Holed up waiting for my man to come back from the coal mines.”

“Oh, is that right?” He looked up at you with a smirk. It had been a few weeks since the two of you had last been together, long days at the site and, for you, at school forcing you apart. Aside from a few steamy but quick makeouts, you were left longing for your soon-to-be husband. “I been neglectin’ you, huh?”

You nodded, your smile spreading wider as you played along, your voice dramatic and theatrical as you tried on an old-timey southern belle persona. “All I got is this baby I’m brewing to remember you by.”

Joel stood up and dropped his tools on the kitchen counter before letting his hands find your waist, tugging you as close to him as your belly would allow. He leaned in, pressing a featherlight kiss to your cheek that caused your entire body to light with chills as his kisses traveled down your neck.

“Why don’t I take you into the bedroom and give you that attention you’ve been needin’ so bad,” he rasped against your skin, dizzying your mind as you clung to him, breathless and wanting.

“House full of people,” Tommy’s voice sounded, reminding the two of you why you’d gone so long without each other in the first place. “Thought this would be done by now. Been, what, three years?”

“Don’t mind him, his longest relationship has been with the goddamn Longhorns,” Joel mumbled, keeping you hugged to his body. “Don’t know a thing about real love.”

“Yeah, yeah, save me the lecture, old man.” Tommy batted his brother’s teasing away and continued on packing and moving in the living room.

“Have I really been neglectin’ you, baby? All jokes aside,” Joel asked in a whisper pressed to your ear. You squeezed him closer and laid your head on his chest, Joel’s chin resting on top of it as he held you.

“No, I mean…I do miss you, and it has been a while since we last were together, but you’re not neglecting me. You still come home and hold me and talk to me and makeout with me,” you spoke softly, your voice a soothing hum against his chest. “We’re tired people, and especially now with the baby…I didn’t expect you to be clawing my clothes off when I look like a whale—“

“Excuse me?” he snapped, pulling your head from his chest so he could sternly look into your eyes. “None’a that. You’re beautiful…carryin’ our baby. Drives me fuckin’ wild seein’ you like this. M’sorry I haven’t been energized enough to show it, but I promise you, baby…you’re drivin’ me crazy walkin’ around like this.”

His hands slipped to squeeze the globes of your ass that had grown along with your belly and hips and, well, everything else.

“Tommy’s gonna see,” you scolded in a whisper as Joel’s fingers pinched the fabric of your dress until it started to lift, allowing his hands to rest against your skin and the cotton of your panties. Weaker and breathier, you exhaled, “Or the girls.”

“I promise no one’s gonna see,” he rasped, pressing his against your neck.

“Dad, come out here quick! There’s—oh my god! There’s a scorpion!” Sarah’s high-pitched squeal had Joel rushing out into the sunroom, his teasing long forgotten as he searched the room frantically. Sarah pointed in the corner and Joel spotted it, black and bigger than any scorpion he’d seen before.

“How the hell’d you get in here?” he muttered to the insect as he guided the girls inside the house before coming inside as well to grab a cup and the dust pan.

You stood in the frame of the sliding glass door, watching him as he carefully approached the scorpion as though he was Steve Irwin approaching a crocodile.

“They don’t jump, do they?” you asked, wincing as Joel started to make contact, guiding it towards the cup. The girls were behind you as though you were a shield, both of them letting out a squeal when the scorpion tried to strike Joel’s wrist, just barely missing. “Joel, just leave it! This can just be his house now, it’s not worth it.”

“Oh, hush,” Joel barked, keeping focused on the task before him. With either skill or luck, Joel managed to sweep the ground-hog sized scorpion into the glass cup and placed the dust pan over the mouth to keep him inside. “See, I got it.”

“Dad, don’t!” Sarah got gravely serious, sternly ordering her father to remain where he was with a point of her finger. Joel grinned and continued over, making both of the girls squeal and run off through the house.

“It’s so gross,” you cringed, leaning over to look at it through the glass with extreme caution and hesitancy.

“I don’t know,” Joel lifted it to his eye level to study it. “I think he’s kinda cool lookin’. Maybe we can keep ‘em as a pet.”

“Yeah, ri-IGHT—Joel!” you shrieked in terror as he pushed the glass towards you with a bark, making you jump backwards. Joel cackled as he watched you stand with your hand over your heart, your stern eyes watching him unamused. “That wasn’t funny.”

“I thought it was,” he chuckled. You watched him walk out to the backyard and set his new friend free, your heart still thumping in your chest. “Gotta get your heart rate up every now and then.”

“I don’t think you do.” Joel laughed and walked to hold you but was stopped by your hand pushing against his chest. “No, you don’t get to touch me. I almost pissed myself!”

Joel laughed again, proud of his prank. “God, it was good.”

“I’m glad you’re satisfied. I can promise you that’s the only satisfaction you’re gonna get for a while, pal.” Joel poured immediately, following you as you walked through the house out to the front yard where Tommy, Sarah, and Jessie laid out in the grass, staring up at the sky. “Everybody, we’re shunning Joel.”

“What?” he chuckled, looking at you with amusement and affection, so rarely seeing you worked up like this.

“Sure thing,” Tommy replied, mellow and relaxed as he looked at the clouds, a beer in his hand.

“Sounds good,” Jessie agreed before pointing at the sky. “That’s a dragon.”

“Yeah it is,” Sarah agreed. “And why are we shunning dad?”

“He threw the scorpion at me.” You knew you were exaggerating, your smirk growing as you watched Joel scoff at the claim, a look of amazement on the entire time.

“I did no such thing,” he defended. “I jumped it at her—“

“Oh, that’s right. He jumped it at me,” you repeated, still smirking at him. “A pregnant woman.”

“Oh, the pregnancy card again,” Joel playfully sighed, earning a gasp from you.

“Pregnancy card? How dare you?” you laughed. “I rest my case, Sarah.”

“Alright, yeah. Dad’s shunned.” Joel rolled his eyes at you before walking over, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he sang, widening your already smitten grin. “I promise not to throw any more scorpions at ya. You forgive me now?”

“Mmhm,” you hummed, melting into him.

“I ain’t shunned?” he murmured, kissing your shoulder innocently.

“No, but the threat’s always there. As you just saw, I have the votes.” Joel chuckled against your skin.

“Trust me, I know my place.”

A Week Later

It was a Friday, you’d been stuck at the house all alone, Sarah off with her dad at the site to earn her Britney Spears ticket money. After doing a few hours of nesting, marrying your things to Joel’s around the house, you perked up at the sight of Joel’s name on the caller ID of your cell.

“Hi,” you sang with a smile.

“Hey baby,” he greeted. “Was wonderin’ if you could pick me and Sarah up in about a half hour?”

“Ooo, I get you home early tonight?” Your smile turned into a grin.

“Yeah, but Sean’s havin’ a barbecue at his place. Invited the whole crew so I guess we should show up.”

“Well, I’m in.”

“See you in a little?”

“Sounds good, baby.”

You smiled as you flipped your cell shut, but the task of dressing yourself quickly wiped your grin away.

You felt like a whale in everything these days, and despite Joel’s eagerness for you each and every day, you felt like a stranger to yourself. Even in the dresses you’d been living in, you felt every change in the way your body used to fill them out. You quickly shooed the insecurity from your mind and dressed yourself for comfort before heading out to go pick the Miller’s up.

Rolling into the construction site, you spotted Joel and Sarah standing in the dirt parking lot out in front of the project, a woman in front of them talking. You furrowed your brows as you got closer, seeing that whoever this woman was, she was pretty—the kind of pretty that makes you wonder why the hell she’s here in a construction lot instead of on billboards and magazine covers.

Your chest felt tight with insecurity as you pulled up to them, hoping with all your might that Joel didn’t try to introduce you to Construction-Barbie.

“Alright, Meg. See ya at the party.” Joel waved to her as he opened the backseat for Sarah, a friendly—too friendly—smile on his face when he hopped in the passenger seat. “Hey baby,” Joel leaned forward for a kiss but you were still too jealous to oblige, giving him your cheek instead. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you lied, nodding as you pulled out of the lot, the rest of the drive silent besides the pop on the radio and Sarah's soft hums.

After giving the two of them time to change into nicer clothes, all three of you piled into the car again with Joel in the driver's seat. Sarah talked about her day at work, how cool it was to work with Meg, and how surprising it was that the newcomer managed to make her dad laugh. You tried not to picture the scene.

Joel stopped at a grocery store, running in quickly to grab some beer and a few bags of chips to bring to the party while you and Sarah remained in the car.

“Meg sounds great,” you spoke, unable to keep your jealousy to yourself.

“She’s alright,” Sarah replied, seemingly noticing your insecurity. “A little chatty.”

“Your dad didn’t seem to mind,” you mumbled, mostly to yourself.

“She was a little flirty,” Sarah replied. “But dad didn’t seem to notice.”

You tried to shake the jealousy, knowing that it was silly and hormone-driven. Joel loved you. But that didn’t mean that he still couldn’t find someone else attractive at the same time.

At the party, you kept mostly to yourself. You were introverted on a good day, but with this heavy insecurity weighing you down, you found yourself retreating inward while everyone else mingled and carried on.

You were inside the house of Joel’s lead plumber, his wife buzzing around the house as she tried to corral her five children under five. You sat in the living room, watching and praying yours didn’t come out like that—loud and disobedient and restless.

“So, how far along are you?” she asked, breathless as she gave up and sat down on the loveseat across from you.

“Six months,” you replied with a small but friendly smile. “Got any advice for me?”

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Besides not havin’ ‘em in the first place? I don’t know—sleep whenever you can. They’ll suck the life outta you if you let ‘em.”

“A little bleak, honey,” Sean, her husband, walked in through the patio door, Joel following behind him.

“It’s the truth,” she argued, giving him a passive aggressive sigh. “It ain’t easy. ‘Specially if there’s only one parent home to do it.”

“Alright,” he chuckled, trying to ease the tension.

You stood, ready to venture beyond the tension anf chaos of the house, even if it meant having to enter the crowded backyard.

“You comin’ out?” Joel asked, holding his hand out for you to take. You accepted it and let him walk you outside. “That was brutal in there.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. Joel’s eyes scanned you as you stood beside him, staring ahead.

“You sure you’re alright? Been awfully quiet,” he noted.

“Yeah, just…feeling a little off today,” you lied.

Spotting a familiar head of strawberry blonde curls snorting with laughter as she stood with Tommy and Sarah by the grill. They both looked comfortable around her, making your stomach curl with a new type of jealousy. She wanted your entire family.

“Joel!” she called once she caught you staring. “Come over here and join us, darlin’!”

You resented the petname. Turning to Joel, you watched as his cheeks flushed, his eyes flickering to yours.

“C’mon,” he looked to you fully, attempting to slide his hand across your back but you stopped him, swatting his arm away. “Baby,” he began, but you were already too worked up to be consoled. “She calls everybody that.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you muttered.

“Baby, you ain’t really jealous, are you?” He chuckled. Wrong move. With a furrow in your brow, you reached your hands into his pockets and tugged out the keys to the car.

“I’m going home. Call me when you wanna be picked up from your date.”

Joel called after you only once, not wanting to make a scene by raising his voice or following you out.

Back at home, you stewed. What started as hormonal territorialism quickly snowballed into justified rage. She’d clearly met your eyes, seeing you standing there beside him, and ignored you. Then, she proceeded to flirt with him right in front of you. Joel did nothing about it except for defend her, which was what you were currently most angry about.

As you aggressively turned the pages of the book you were reading to distract yourself, you were surprised to see headlights through the window. Closing your book, you got up and peeled through the blinds to see Joel and Sarah stepping out of a taxi, your cheeks heating as guilt set in. You didn’t mean for Sarah to get involved in your fight with Joel.

Hurrying upstairs, you heard the front door open, the two of them speaking downstairs but it was too faint to make any sense. As you stood in the bathroom, hurting your clothes off so that you could jump in the shower, you felt more than heard Joel’s heavy footsteps up the staircase. Soon, after you stepped into the shower, Joel found his way into the bathroom, announcing himself in the doorway.

“We’re home.” His voice was gentle, but carried a sadness to it that made you feel less angry and more guilty.

“Okay,” you managed.

“Can I come in?” he asked, the question lingering in the air for a bit before you answered.

“Yeah,” you decided.

In the matter of a few seconds, Joel was stripped and stepping in behind you, his eyes locked on yours.

“I’m sorry,” he started, stepping closer to you and the stream of water. “I told her that pet-name stuff wasn’t cool with me, but I guess she ain’t as good at listenin’ as she is talkin’.”

“She’s pretty,” you replied, desperate to keep hold of this jealousy.

“Tommy thinks so,” Joel added.

“And you?” He shook his head and rested his hands on the swell of your stomach.

“I’m too busy thinkin’ about you,” he replied. “Thinkin’ ‘bout our family.”

“I know you love me, Joel. It’s not about that,” you sighed, moving to turn around but he stopped you before you could even flinch, forcing you to look at him when you continued. “I want you to think I’m…pretty like that. To want me.”

“You don’t think I want you?” He chuckled, shaking his head in utter disbelief. “For someone who ‘doesn’t want you’, I sure seem to paw at you every minute of every day.”

“I guess you’re right,” you chuckled, finally seeing the light beyond all the dark gray that this storm of jealousy and insecurity you were caught in. “Just seeing you with someone so pretty, who does what you do—“

“First off, she’s alright. She ain’t half as good as Tommy promised me was. M’pretty sure they’re fuckin’ and that’s why he recommended her.” You laughed. “Secondly, I need you to know that it doesn’t matter who I’m standin’ next to. I’m only ever thinkin’ about the next time I get to see you.”

“You’re good at this,” you smiled, reaching to hold his face in your hands. “Defusing the bomb that is a pregnant woman’s mind.”

“You know…I think that’s the first time I ever saw you jealous,” he hummed, leaning in to press a soft, teasing kiss on your lips.

“It happens a lot, I’m just usually good at hiding it,” you whispered back, stealing a few kisses for yourself. “Think you should prepare yourself for more of this crazy. Might be this way until the baby comes.”

“I like the crazy,” he smiled.

Five years later — December 25th, 2009

“Iris, watch out—“ Your five year old daughter ran full speed through the kitchen and living room, your two year old son, Miles, clumsily chasing her with his brand new stuffed dinosaur. It was hard to be mad at either of them, their giggles filling the room along with the crunch of the wrapping paper littering the carpet beneath their feet.

“Alright,” Joel scooped both of his children up and threw them over his shoulder, earning squeals and laughter as he walked them over to the couch you were sitting on. He plopped kids onto your lap but only Miles stayed. Joel sighed and sat down beside you as Iris got up again, a mischievous grin on her face as she stood before the three of you, all eyes on her. “Well,” Joel started, lifting his hands before dropping them back onto his lap. “We paid for a show. Are you gonna sing for us, Hannah Montana?”

“Daddy, where’s the phone?” Iris asked, making a fist and then tapping it to help illustrate what she wanted.

“The microphone? Somewhere in all this mess,” you replied, gesturing to the mountain of wrapping paper on the floor. “Gotta go fishing for it, baby.”

Iris quickly got to work, making an arguably bigger mess as she searched for her brand new toy, a microphone that was supposed to be its own speaker as well, but truthfully wasn’t much louder than Iris’s voice.

“Hey, hey!” Sarah walked in the front door with a smile, two large bags in her hands stuffed full of wrapped presents. When she took in the mess, she frowned. “Ah, did you guys already do gifts?”

“Iris already had them open before we even got downstairs,” Joel replied as he walked to the door to take the bags from his now twenty year-old’s hands before giving her a tight hug. “Martin come along?”

Martin was Sarah’s boyfriend of two years, the pair meeting in her biology class freshman year of college.

“Yeah, he’s getting the bags,” Sarah replied before coming over to hug you tight.

“How are you? How’s school?” You missed having Sarah at the house but were more than proud of her for getting into the pre-med program at Stanford.

“School is school, but it’s been way easier now that we aren’t living in the dorms anymore.”

“Sissy!” Iris rushed up to her sister and waved her new Hannah Montana microphone in her face. “Sing with me.”

“Oh…yay,” Sarah forced a smile but looked to you for help.

“How about we open the gifts sissy brought instead?” you proposed and your daughter instantly agreed.

“How was the drive?” Joel spoke to Martin as he helped him carry the bags upstairs to Sarah’s old bedroom.

“Not too bad. Sarah snored the entire way.”

“Sorry ‘bout that. Think she gets it from me.”

When Joel and Martin returned from the second floor, they immediately found their spots beside their partners, each of them making the same pained groan as they sat down.

“God,” you chuckled, looking to Sarah who was already looking at you. “They’re the same person.”

“Gross. Hate that.”

“You gonna pass out the gifts or what?” Joel asked, unamused by the comparison.

As Sarah and Martin sorted out the gifts, handing a few to Iris, a few to Miles, two to you and one to Joel. Joel shook his head at the box handed to him, but Sarah’s round eyes got her her way every single time.

“Told you no gifts for me,” Joel grumbled as he ripped the wrapping. “Don’t want you spendin’ your money—“

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she smiled, sitting down beside her boyfriend. “I think you’ll like this one. It’s a gift for everybody, but I think you’re going to have the most fun with it.”

You watched him rather than opening your own gifts, the small black box in his hand opening to reveal a key. Joel looked up with boyish eyes, shocked and excited and near tears all at the same time.

“What is it?” you asked, plucking the key from his hand.

“This ain’t—how—what?” Joel spoke through his shock.

“What’s it a key to?” you asked again, chuckling at the tears welling up in your husband’s eyes.

“My parents used to own this beat up old ranch in San Antonio, but had to sell it off when Sarah was a kid. I always wanted to buy it back and fix it up, but I just…never got around to it,” Joel finally replied to your questioning, turning to you with wet eyes and a big smile before looking at his daughter and her boyfriend. “How did—“

“My dad’s a realtor and knew the guy who was selling it, so Sarah and I put our money together to buy it back,” Martin detailed.

“In your name, so don’t get too excited. Mortgage isn’t gonna be that bad because we got it at twenty thousand and we put down a decent down payment,” Sarah added. “So, just a few hundred a month.”

“Baby girl,” Joel shook his head and looked down at the key. “How much do I owe y’all—“

“Dad, you took care of me my whole life. You deserve this. Besides, I just signed with a publisher for my book, so—“

“What?” you practically squealed, Miles covering his ears as he sat in your lap. “Congrats, baby girl!”

“Thank you, thank you,” she smiled and bowed, bringing your eyes to the shining rock on her ring finger. Joel seemingly noticed it too because his clapping suddenly ceased.

“What’s that?” he asked, his eyes shifting to Martin’s nervous stare.

“Shit—we were gonna announce it at dinner so Uncle Tommy could be here too, but…” She looked to her boyfriend. “We’re engaged.”

“Oh my god,” you gasped, your hands lifting to your mouth to hide the joy in your smile. “I’m so happy. Oh my god!”

“That’s bad, mommy,” Iris scolded. You nodded but pointed at Sarah’s ring.

“I known, but sissy’s getting married, baby!”

“Dad?” Sarah spoke to her father who sat frozen in shock. You turned to him as well, studying him carefully for any signs of anger or disappointment, but instead found only pride and joy. “Please don’t be mad. Martin wanted to ask first but I told him that’s too old school—“

“Baby, I’m not mad,” he assured softly, shaking his head as his eyes welled with fresh tears. “I’m just so happy.”

“Oh, dad,” Sarah cooed, her own eyes shedding tears as she walked over to hug her father close as he stood up. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, baby girl. So much.” Joel squeezed her once more before letting her go and turning to her fiancé. “And you too by proxy.”

After a long afternoon spent beside Joel at the computer studying the state of the ranch from the pictures Martin pulled up from the realtor, it was decided that Joel would take weekends off of work—not that he usually worked them anymore, the business having taken off so much that it forced him into a more managerial role—and drive down to the ranch to work on it, the kids and you invited of course but he understood if you didn’t want to, after all, “It ain’t gonna be pretty for a while, baby”. You agreed to let him check it out in person first before coming along because it seemed a little too dangerous for the kids with the property’s long, unmowed yard and old, untouched cabin.

Dinnertime came and so did Tommy and his girlfriend of one year—who also happened to be your good friend and a successful attorney—Maria, the two of them walking into a cleaner home than the one Sarah and Martin were greeted with. She had a six year old son, Kevin, who loved to play with your babies every time he came over.

“No fuckin’ way,” Tommy held up Sarah’s left hand to stare at the ring. “You were just a snot-nosed kid a second ago.”

“Yep,” she giggled.

“Well,” Tommy dropped her hand and looked to Martin, giving him a handshake. “You know who you’re gonna answer to if you hurt her.”

“Alright,” Joel interjected as he returned to the kitchen table that the adults were sat at while the kids played in the living room, The Grinch on in the background to busy them even more. He set a bottle of beer down in front of each of you, but Marin was quick to slide her bottle away from her. “No? And I bought the good shit just to impress y’all.”

“It’s just…” She looked to Tommy for help, the younger Miller smirking as he turned to the table.

“We’re havin’ a baby,” he announced and the table roared with applause and cheers. Joel’s smile was the widest, the two brothers locking eyes. Joel lifted his beer up to toast to life and the rest of you gladly clinked your bottles together in agreement. To life, indeed.

March, 2010

“So,” Joel started, a proud but nervous grin on his face as you climbed out of the passenger seat of the car to get a good look at the ranch. “What d’ya think?”

The long, unmowed grass was now trimmed neatly, making the land look so much bigger. Joel had fixed the gate, but you noticed that when he pulled in; he made sure to have a sign placed at the entrance reading “Miller Ranch” to properly fulfill his lifelong dream. The old, rickety cabin was now renovated and converted into a private den in case Sarah and Martin ever wanted to come stay for a while. Beside it stood a brand new ranch house, modest in size compared to the surrounding ranches, but it was big enough to hold three bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen, and a living room. But the part you loved most was the wrap-around porch he built by hand, painted a soft, pale yellow to contrast to the white of the home.

“I think,” you started, a smile growing on your face. “I wanna live here now.”

“Yeah?” he chuckled and approached you at the passenger side door, pressing you against it. “Why don’t we go inside? Maybe…test it out.”

“Mm, might as well take advantage of Tommy and Maria watching the kids,” you replied, your lips ghosting over his.

Joel tugged you along by the hand up the gravel driveway, allowing you the time to admire the little details like the swing he built onto the big oak tree between the den and the house, or the sneak peek you caught of rose bushes in the backyard. With each detail, you fell more and more in love with the property, and what was once a joke now turned into a serious longing—you wanted to move here. Bad.

“Ready?” Joel asked as he opened the screen door and rested his hand on the doorknob of the main, wooden door painted that same, soft yellow. You nodded at him and he opened the house, letting you walk in first, he flipped on the lights behind you as he entered. You gasped at the living room, how spacious but cozy it felt with a fireplace built in, not that the San Antonio weather ever really called for it.

Turning to the other side, you saw the dining room that connected into the kitchen via a square archway. You started that way, admiring the hand-made dining table before walking into the kitchen of your dreams. You let out a moan at the size of it, the brand new appliances that were a surprise but don’t worry, they’re on a lease.

Back in the hall, you carried on, admiring the framed pictures he’d hung of your joined family over the years, the smiling image of Sarah’s mother and Mary and Paul and everyone you’d lost bringing tears to your eyes.

“This is gonna be Miles’ room,” Joel opened the door to a room set up for a kid rather than a toddler aside from the bed with safety rails on it. You smiled at the thought of your son growing up here.

“And this?” you reached for the door across the hall and opened it to find a bathroom, modest but new.

“Kids bath,” he replied. Guiding you to the room beside Miles’, Joel opened it and displayed a soft pink painted bedroom that Iris was going to absolutely adore. “For baby girl.”

“Which means this has to be our room, right?” you asked, reaching for the door across from your daughter's room. “Little close, no?”

“Mm-mm,” he shook his head and entered the room, shutting the door behind him. He made a lot of noise, or at least that’s what you assumed from his heavy feet jumping on the hardwood floors, but you couldn’t hear much of anything. When he emerged, he was breathless and smiling. “Hear anything?”

“Felt you jumping around, but no,” you grinned. “You soundproofed it?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Took me a while to get it right but…we can make all the noise we want now.”

“Well,” you began, sliding your hands up his chest as you batted your eyes at him. “Why don’t we give it a proper go?”

“Yeah,” he hummed, leaning down to kiss you teasingly, forcing you to seek more of his mouth in yours. “Come on,” he rasped, tugging you into the bedroom. “There’s one more surprise on the tour before I can get you naked. Go take a look in the bathroom.”

You did as you were told, leaving him by the bed to walk into the en-suite. You gasped at the clawfoot tub perched by a large bay window, looking out at the garden of flowers he’d planted.

“Joel…you—“ You shook your head, eyes now raining tears as you stood in the middle of the bathroom. Joel laughed and came over to hold you as you buried your face in his chest. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, baby,” he chuckled, amused by your reaction. “You like it, I take it?”

“Like it?” you lifted your head and shocked him with the amount of tears soaking your eyes. “I’m about to get down on my knees.”

“You can get down on your knees after I get my fill, how about that?” he husked against your cheek as he kissed your tears. “Go lay down on the bed, baby. Everything off.”

You didn’t waste any time in obeying, practically skipping out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Your shoes and jeans came off first, then your top, and finally your undergarments before you climbed onto the mattress to test it out. Joel walked in but remained patient at the foot of the bed as you laid in the center of the mattress, beckoning him closer with the curl of your finger. Joel grinned and peeled his t-shirt off before slowly, painfully slowly, undoing his belt and jeans.

“Roll over,” he commanded. “Wanna see somethin’.”

“I wonder, what ever could that be?” you joked, rolling onto your stomach and instinctively arching your ass into the air. Joel’s knees dipped the mattress as he crawled onto the bed behind you, his hands gripping the globes of your ass as he let out a groan.

“So pretty like this,” he hummed before surprising you with a broad lick up the seam of your cunt. “My country girl.”

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be, just don’t stop.” Joel laughed at your plea but obliged, licking you again. He kept at it, his tongue greedily and filthily lapping up every inch of you it could find before tensing and burying into your cunt while his fingers rubbed circles over your clit.

“Mm,” he hummed as he pulled away for a moment to speak. “There’s a gift for you in the nightstand. Why don’t you have a look?”

You chuckled hesitantly and crawled over the mattress to reach into the nightstand on your side of the bed, finding a long black box inside. You pulled it out and turned over to sit, facing Joel as he sat on his ankles at the foot of the bed. “Open it.”

“Is this—“ You silenced yourself by opening the box, your eyes taking in the sight of one of those wands you’d been desperately dropping hints about wanting to try out. “Oh, baby. You’ve got competition now.”

“Oh, do I?” he smirked, crawling to lay over you, forcing your head to rest back against the pillows. “That’s alright. Gettin’ too old to do all that work anyways. Might as well take all the help I can get.”

“You know you’ll always have one thing no one else has,” you purred, reaching to stroke his cock as it rested on your belly. “They couldn’t replicate this if they tried.”

“Mm,” he smiled against you. “You’re just flatterin’ me now.”

“Uh-uh,” you shook your head. “It’s perfect. The way you fill me up, the way it feels inside. I’ll never get enough.”

“Fuck, baby,” he whined against your jaw as he nibbled there. “Turn it on, wanna get you ready to take me. So damn hard for you, can’t even think.”

You flipped on the vibrator, gasping at the power behind it while Joel simply groaned.

“Go on,” he urged. “Press it to your clit, baby.”

“Fuck,” you hissed as you lowered it to your bundle of nerves, the whir of the vibrations making your thighs tense and jerk, but Joel’s hips stopped them from closing.

“Does it feel good?” he asked against your pulse as he kissed the skin there.

“Yes,” you panted. “But I want you.”

“Not ‘til you cum,” he replied, trailing his fingers down your belly, past the vibrator, and into your soaked entrance. You let out an animalistic moan, something primal and so unlike yourself. “God, baby,” he moaned against you as he curled his fingers up towards that dizzying spot inside. “You don’t make those noises for me. Maybe I do got competition.”

“Joel,” you whined, unsure of what to say or how to describe how good it felt to have him inside you along with this gift of an invention. “Please. Please.”

“Cum on my fingers,” he ordered, low and dark and right into your ear. “Then I’ll give you what you want.”

As if your body had simply been awaiting the order, you came immediately, squeezing him as you writhed beneath his weight, the vibrator turned off and tossed across the bed. Joel slid into you while you were still clenching around nothing, your breath getting knocked out of your lungs at the force of his thrusts inside. You felt like you transcended into some sinful sort of heaven, one where only you and Joel resided.

“God, baby,” he whined, his arms slid beneath the arch of your back to hug you tight as he pounded into you. “So fuckin’ wet. God, I need to cum. Been too long.”

“Those fuckin’ kids,” you managed a joke, earning a laugh before he found his rhythm again.

“Baby, fuck,” he warned, his voice as wrecked as yours as you screamed his name into the empty home, your nails scratching down his back as you begged him to let you cum again, as if he ever denied you. “Go on,” he urged, sitting up on his knees to watch his cock disappear into you only to come out covered in your shine. “Fuck, come on. Cum for me. Right fuckin’ now, baby.”

“Oh!” you screamed, again unlike yourself, and clawed at his arms for purchase as your orgasm hit so hard it might have been painful if it hadn’t felt so fucking good. “Joel, please, please, please. Cum inside me.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his face scrunched up as he watched himself let go into your pussy, his eyes glued to where you were connected while pulsed inside of you with a deep growl. When he pulled out, he quickly lowered himself to the mattress and nestled between your thighs, fucking his spend back into you with his finger while his tongue swiped round and round over your clit until you were begging him to stop. “Too much?”

“For now,” you grinned. “How much longer do we have until we have to get back on the road?”

“I’d say a couple hours,” he replied, sated but a hint of mischief in his voice. “We could always try out that new bath.”

“God, I love you.” You pulled him up and kissed deeply. “So glad you showed up to that parent teacher conference.”

“Thank you for givin’ Sarah and I a family again,” he whispered. “I love you so much, baby. I—gonna get me all choked up. I love you.”

“I love you.”

•

•

•

•

•

•

•

•

•

[careyakane]

New York City last summer

My label had booked me a room at the Willamsburg Hotel across the East River in Brooklyn. I had convinced Ella to take the bus down from ithaca and stay with me. I knew time was running out with us. Only fantasy’s strung together in a panic like this one could keep us alive. I had grown very skilled at pulling these elaborate tricks together. I had arrived to the hotel a day before her to a room that faced nothing quite as grand as the city view i had hoped for. After tampering with the rooms AC unit and creating a leak i called the front desk and was promptly moved to a room with a view that better suited this fantasy i was creating. A view that might buy me another week with her. The morning of her arrival i took the L train from Bedford ave and headed towards Penn station. Overhead the sky laughed at me and my elaborate schemes as the clouds began to smother the city and it started to rain. Ever since the trip Ella and I had taken the previous May when we visited Montreal, the rain had brought me great anxiety. It was something far from my control. Something that tended to set into motion these fights between Ella and i that would leave her robbed of any joy or love for me. She would have this look of disgust and resolve painted on her face. In those moments i could only hope we were somewhere far away from home. Somewhere where she relied on me in some way. Somewhere i had time to get her to look me in the eyes, time to make her laugh, time to guide her back to me. When these fights took place in a more familiar landscape like Albany street, she could escape. She could leave. Only at this stage of our relationship i never knew if i’d see her again once she left. As i exited the subway at Penn station and felt those first drops of rain, my heart sank. The next two days with her were as they always were, volatile. In some moments i had her back. It was relief, we were again just two kids. Light for a moment in a world that had grown so heavy together. None of this was supposed to happen. I was never supposed to break her in the way i did. I never meant to rob her of herself. So in the moments where i had her back i always made a point of studying every feeling, every detail of the moment. I hoped to store these memories away for the inevitable drought that was approaching. They would be my hidden cache similar to that of an addict who listlessly attempts to quit the substance knowing truthfully in the back of their mind that they will soon reach for the box tucked under the bed. Not to indulge we all claim, just to remember, just to be close one last time… After a dinner at some upscale Italian joint we returned to our room and watched the lighting cut lines through the Manhattan skyline. I held her tight that night like a child might hold onto his mother or father. Everything was always so simple once we turned in for the night. We could just be. I could be sure for a few hours she would be close to me, she would be mine. The sound of her breathing mixed with the rain into a beautiful song that i would sacrifice any possession just to hear again. I dreaded the morning and what would be an end to the fantasy i had created. Hours passed and the sun of course did arrive. Quietly we left for the bus station. As we grew closer this great fear seemed to find a home in Ella. She didn’t want to leave me. Since the day i had met her, Ella had always had this deep fear of losing a loved one in some terrible accident. She felt when they were with her she could keep them safe. I had always promised her that the world was looking out for me and she had no need to worry. Still i did find the extra long embraces at the door and the clinging onto me refusing to let me leave rather reassuring. I grew to feel so loved in those drawn out goodbyes. Overtime as our relationship deteriorated these moments grew more and more infrequent. Thus when that familiar look of tears started to well up in her eyes and she persisted that i come home with her then, i couldn’t help but to find relief and security in her anxiety. We were always flipped. Always in the opposite place of one another. Reluctantly she tore away from me and i watched her board the bus as its driver screamed at a couple who clearly spoke not a word of english. Seemingly he believed that if you yelled instructions louder, they would be magically interpreted. Walking to the side of the bus i watched Ella as she took a seat by the window. With her long black coat and blond hair perfectly curled, she looked like one of those strangers i would fall in love with as a kid. The ones you make eye contact with once and think about for six months. Only this time the stranger was holding me like a prized possession with her gaze. Millions of people swarmed around us in the hive of the city but in that gaze all of them fell away. I stood there a few minutes longer before wandering off into the streets. As i always did after these trips with Ella i felt exhausted from bending reality into a more gentle, hospitable place where she and i could have a better chance of caring for each other. But more so then that i felt the terrible sensation of contentment that always seemed to rest over me after feeling her love. It would soon pass and i never knew if months would go by before i felt it again. Nothing else in this life has ever given me that feeling. I search for it everywhere and yet she is the only dealer i know of who can provide it. And even then i dont think it’s in her control. How does one leave or lose the only thing that seems to gives a moments rest in this life that just wont slow down. How dose one leave or lose the only person that has tempted him to put everything down, even the pen. She was and i fear still is my only relief.

[tiny-pretty-sana]

i will take good care of you | mina x chaeyoung

pairing: mina x chaeyoung genre: fluff warning/tags: au, stablished relationship, domestic girlfriends w/c: 3.1 k a/n: i’m back with more fluff but i promise you i’m trying new things. sorry in advance for the mistakes you might find because english is not my first language but especially because it’s 7 am and i haven’t slept ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১. i’m still surprised by the response the first thing i’ve ever posted got, so i’ll be happy if this one receives half as much love as that one did. feel free to leave any comments, feedback, suggestions or requests 🤍

After Chaeyoung hadn't stopped sneezing and blowing her nose since she arrived soaking wet from the rain the previous afternoon, they decided that canceling their Sunday date would be the best option. Their visit to the botanical park has now been replaced by a day at home watching movies. The exam period is coming, so it was reasonable to make Chaeyoung stay at home so she doesn’t get worse. It takes them some time to decide, as the younger one felt guilty because they had already bought tickets, but Mina manages to convince her girlfriend to stay on the couch with a blanket, tea and a box of tissues beside her while she goes out to buy medicine, her favorite snacks and some ingredients to make miso soup.

"I'll take good care of you" is the last thing she says before kissing Chaeyoung’s lips and leaving the apartment.

She would be lying if she said she isn’t surprised to see that when she's back in their apartment, her girlfriend is still in the same place where she left her half an hour ago, only now she has a book in her hand instead of the mug of tea that now sits empty on the living room table. As Chaeyoung focuses on her book, she places everything she got in the kitchen and grabs her Nintendo to continue building and decorating her Animal Crossing island on the other side of the couch. Moments like this are the favorites for both of them, they just need each other's company as they spend time enjoying their hobbies in a comfortable silence.

They are both introverts who enjoy spending time at home playing video games, reading, drawing,writing, assembling Lego sets or watching movies. It's something they've always enjoyed separately, and since Chaeyoung accepted Mina's proposal to move into her apartment, it's become something they do together. Now, across the room, across the couch or using the other Nintendo Switch controller, they have someone with whom they share playful glances, smiles, exchange thoughts, talk about their days at work or college, about lives or share their problems. In moments like these, they just need to feel each other's presence. For them to be in silence doing their own thing while intertwining their legs under the blanket doesn't feel much different from a date outside in a nice place. 

It's these things that make Mina wonder if they'll always feel this way or if it's a passing thing that will end when she gets used to living with Chae. Meanwhile, on the other side of the couch, Chaeyoung underlines the sentences in the book that remind her of Mina and thinks that she stay in this moment all her life without ever getting tired of seeing Mina in front of her focus on her videogames with the tip of her tongue sticking out, concentrating on the game, just like she does when she cooks a new recipe or when she prepares some presentation for work.

An hour later, Chae puts the book away, takes off her glasses and holds the bridge of her nose with two fingers "I can't focus, I have a headache" she complains, making Mina sit up immediately "Let me get you a glass of water so you can take a painkiller". Chaeyoung gestures for her to get back to sit with her. "Don't worry, I think I just need to get some sleep" she says as her girlfriend looks at her with a doubtful face "I promise I'll take it if my headache doesn't go away" she replies, earning an indulgent smile from Mina.

As soon as her girlfriend falls asleep on the couch she goes to the kitchen to make some miso soup, lunch for both of them and looks up movie recommendations on her phone while waiting for the water to start boiling. And of course, tea is a must. 

It seems that sleep was good for Chae because when she wakes up, she seems to be in a better mood and even a bit more talkative, so they spend lunch talking about what movie they should watch. When they’re done, Mina takes care of clearing the table and cleaning the dishes despite Chaeyoung's refusal when her girlfriend tells her to brush her teeth and go back to the couch.

"Mina-chan!" she whines. "It's just a cold, don't treat me like I'm dying. Let me help you."

"Your exams are coming up and you and I both know that if you get sick now, you'll only be more anxious because you won't be able to do as much as you'd like. At least one of us has to be responsible" Mina says, giving her a scolding look, and Chaeyoung has no choice but to nod her head and follow her directions.

Mina doesn't have to explain herself for her girlfriend to get the message since the cold is due more to Chaeyoung being careless than to the sudden rain of the previous day. In the morning, when the gray clouds covered the Seoul sky and didn't let even a ray of sunshine show, they both commented that good rains were on the way and they hoped that at least it wouldn't be so heavy as to spoil their Sunday date. Exactly that date in which both should now be holding hands, smelling the fragrance of the flowers and taking a thousand photos and maybe, in the case of the art student, doing some sketches or drawings. And despite this, and despite Mina's recommendations, Chaeyoung decided to go out without an umbrella, arguing that her new raincoat would be more than enough and that, unlike the umbrella, it would not ruin her outfit. But in case that hadn’t been enough, for when she arrived completely wet down to her socks and even clothes under her raincoat when Mina reprimanded her for not having listened to her, the younger girl explained that in fact it wasn’t because she wasn’t carrying an umbrella but because she, Dahyun and Tzuyu decided to run and dance in the rain when they left the library after an intense studying session. 

Knowing that her girlfriend's two best friends were involved, she wasn’t surprised by what happened. Separately, Tzuyu and Chaeyoung are quite quiet, introverted and they rather go unnoticed, but if they get together with Dahyun nothing good can happen. Apparently in one of their classes this week, a teacher lectured them about youth, art and living life, which inspired them enough for them to spend at least an hour in the rain several days later in the middle of a storm.

Considering what happened, she wasn't going to take Mina's point away, but that's not going to stop her from complaining. "Oh come on, it's a silly cold" she snorts and before she can continue speaking, she sneezes so hard that her glasses fall off. "Okay, but don't take long" she relents. 

When the dishes are clean, dry and in place, Mina returns to her side of the couch and gets ready to watch the movie, but she doesn't put it on, so she looks away from the TV and when she turns her head, she meets the huge expressive eyes of her girlfriend, who looks at her like a like a kicked puppy. She laughs softly and shifts her posture to lie down behind her and be the big spoon. It’s then when her girlfriend considers pressing the play button.

Only ten minutes pass until Chaeyoung says "The movie was recommended by Nayeon-unnie, it's probably good. I didn't know she studied film in college" she says, to which Mina simply hums as she concentrates on what the characters are saying and what the subtitles say, as there are parts in Japanese that she doesn't want her girlfriend to miss. Occasionally, Mina whispers in her ear some of the lines or words that she feels are oversimplified in the subtitles, but it's still Chae who keeps talking the whole time. She describes what happened in the scene as if they weren't watching the same thing, comments on how neat the costumes are, talks about how beautiful she thinks the composition is, suddenly switches to the Japanese occupation in which the story is set, asks about something she doesn't have time to read, laughs when she realizes that just like the protagonists, one of them is Korean and the other one is Japanese, she then clarifies that in this case it is the Korean who has to learn Japanese... and Mina starts to be slightly annoyed. 

She’s a person who enjoys silence and is easily overwhelmed by too much noise or loud voices, like when they get together with their other seven friends and there are a lot of conversations going on at the same time. She knows it's something she needs to keep working on, but if anything, a red line for her is people talking while watching series or movies. Just like her beloved girlfriend is doing right now, who doesn't seem to pick up on the little interest her rambling receives, being answered only with monosyllables, short sentences and humming. They have been watching the movie for a while now and she’s squirming in her seat because of the discomfort and her urge to say or do something about it. her urge to get it over with is interrupted when she remembers that the girl in her arms is sick and what she needs right now is more care, the least she can do is listen to her thoughts and concerns. Even if she has decided to share them right while they are watching a movie in each other's arms. 

Just when the scene in which the protagonists share a moment of intimacy comes and takes Mina's breath away, Chaeyoung speaks and it takes all of Mina’s will to restrain herself and take a deep breath until she hears what her girlfriend has to say now. "Mina-chan, don't move away; it's cold."

And that's when Mina puts all the pieces together and moves her hand to her girlfriend's forehead. As expected, it's quite warm compared to hers and then she leans down to place her lips on her girlfriend's forehead, who without quite knowing what Mina's intentions are, smiles in anticipation of a kiss on her forehead.  "Baby, you have a fever" she says softly. "Pause the movie. I'll get the thermometer and some medicine." That's certainly not what Chae, who now had her eyes closed ready to receive the next kiss on her lips, expected to hear. Mina can't help but laugh at the sight before her, but she quickly gets up to get everything she needs from the kitchen and bathroom. After a year of dating her, she should know better. 

Luckily, there haven't been many times when one has had to take care of the other while they were sick, but enough times that Mina knows that Chaeyoung starts talking non-stop when her fever starts to rise. It's something that will always make her giggle, it's an odd trait that she finds adorable. "Was I talking that much?" Chae aks to her girlfriend, realizing what's going on, to which Mina nods and chuckles. "I was about to lose it" admits the older one, making her girlfriend blush. "Sorry, I didn't realize" she apologizes and Mina shakes her head as she gets up to grab the thermometer and a couple of other things.

"Here" she says as she returns with the thermometer the box of pills, a sachet of vitamins and a glass of water. "You should uncover for a while, Chaeyoungnie" she says, using a soft voice as she tries to take the blanket she is wrapped in, but her girlfriend grabs it and looks at her with a pout "But I'm so cold". Mina laughs softly "Yesterday you didn't seem to be bothered by the cold, come on, let’s get the thermometer on you". 

Mina wasn't mistaken, the thermometer after five minutes reads 39°C, and the first thing she does is pull the blanket aside this time for real and go get a towel. After taking the medicine, they play the movie back on and now that Chae is starting to feel worse, it’s no longer being interrupted by her ramblings, but by all the times Mina has to get up from the couch to re-wet the towel, until she checks her temperature again and it has dropped a few tenths of a degree. Before the movie is over, Chaeyoung falls asleep. She has replaced the blankets with her girlfriend and now is curled up resting her head in the crook of her neck, she warms her hands under the older one's t-shirt and has one of her legs between hers. Mina, now unable to move and not knowing where the remote is, ends up watching the movie alone until the last word of the credits because she finds it impossible to wake her girlfriend when she is sleeping peacefully in her arms.

Fifteen minutes have passed — maybe thirty or an hour — at this point she doesn't even know and she decides it's time to go to bed. She carefully separates her body from her girlfriend's and whispers sweet nothings, trying to wake her up. "Chaeyoungnie, let's go to bed" she whispers for the tenth time and this time she finally gets a "Hmm?" but nothing else, so she decides to take charge of the situation and gets up to pick up her girlfriend until she sees the restrained smile on her face that ends up giving her away. "You're awake! Come on, let's go to bed." Chaeyoung shakes her head and uses her sick privilege, and those eyes with which she gets anything from Mina, and asks her to carry her to their bed.

It doesn't take long for them to fall asleep, but at some ungodly hour of the night, the younger one doesn't stop moving and shivering, thus waking up the older one. Still asleep, with her eyes half open and the dim light coming through the window, she gropes her girlfriend's forehead to check her temperature and when she notices the hairs of her bangs soaked in sweat, she sits up right away and looks again for the thermometer and the towel. This time it reaches 40°C so she immediately uncovers her and places the towel on her forehead, also cooling her face and neck down making her shiver and whimper. "Mina-chan?" she asks with her eyes closed as she doesn’t have enough energy to open them. "I'm here. Your fever is up again, but don't worry. Try to sleep; I'll take care of you" she reassures her and when she sees her weakly nod her head, she caresses her face gently and runs her fingers through Chaeyoung's sweaty hair.

That's how she spent the rest of the night, cuddling her girlfriend, wetting the towel with cold water from time to time and checking the temperature, which didn’t drop below 38ºC all night long. Between one thing and another, she has had time to drink two coffees and has taken the laptop to get ahead of work, knowing that it is best to spend the day with her in case she has to take her to the doctor. When dawn breaks, Mina writes an email to her company informing them she won’t be able to attend work today, she presses enter and listens to the beep of the thermometer, checking that the temperature has finally dropped. She places the laptop on her bedside table, takes off her glasses, deactivates the alarm on her phone and finally lets herself fall asleep.

The sun finishes rising, illuminating the entire room, this time it is Chaeyoung who wakes up. Beside her, she finds her girlfriend with noticeable bags under her eyes, her glasses and laptop beside her just like when she suffers from insomnia. This time, she’s also holding the towel with which she has been using on her forehead all night long. Although the image melts Chaeyoung's heart, she can't help but feel a pang of guilt at the thought that her girlfriend has had to spend the night awake taking care of her because of her poor choices. Soon, the guilt is replaced by the warmth she feels in her chest as she looks at her girlfriend, thinking how grateful and loved she is. After a year together, she still finds it hard to believe that a person like Mina is in love. And not only in love but willing to love her even more with the hairs of her bangs sticking to her forehead from the cold sweat of fever, or like that time when, after finishing her sculpture project, she suffered a contracture and had to help her bathe for five days, or when she drank so much with her unnies that she spent half the night vomiting with her head stuck in the toilet while Mina held her hair and just like today, she then prepared miso soup for her on each of those occasions. According to her, it works to cure everything.

With a smile on her lips, she carefully strokes Mina's hair and covers her with the blanket as she feels her cold skin making her wake up. "Take the medicine. I'll make you some breakfast in a little while, give me five minutes" she hears her say in her newly awake voice. And, unlike the day before, Chae accepts the offer as she feels she doesn't have enough strength to stand for more than five minutes.

True to her word, in less than fifteen minutes, Mina enters the room with a bowl of miso soup. "Thank you, Mina-chan" she says as she picks it up and places it on the nightstand to cool down a bit. "No problem. I made it yesterday, I just warmed it up" she shrugs as the other shakes her head. "It's not about the soup, it's about everything. Thank you for taking care of me and loving me so well. I love you" she clarifies, earning a smile from the girl in front of her. One of those gummy smiles that makes her eyes practically disappear. She says nothing, simply caresses her cheek and reaches up, seeking a kiss from her girlfriend, who, instead of joining her lips with her whispers "You're going to get sick" by way of warning, a warning they are both willing to ignore. "That's not going to stop me. I can't think of a better plan than spending anothers day at home with you instead of going to work. Besides, what was that thing your teacher said for you to end up in the rain... Live, feel, eat, love, laugh, travel and kiss without thinking about tomorrow?" She teases her girlfriend again about the rain incident and Chaeyoung nods her head before kissing Mina. "I guess I'll have to take good care of you" she whispers against her lips.

[alwritey-aphrodite]

hi!!! for the prompts cartoon-patterned plasters with tasm!peter?? maybe patching him up with a spider-man plaster and him being like really???

I hope it’s ok but I went a slightly different route with the prompt!

Having a young daughter means you’re always prepared for any number of disasters. You carry at least three different types of snacks with you at all times, you keep a coloring book and a picture book in every bag you own, and you always have a pack of bandaids with you. Most of the time, you let Charlie pick out which bandaids she wants, trying to avoid meltdowns and tantrums because her bandages are boring.

She’s been gravitating towards all things girly for the past few years, living in tutus and fairy costumes and wanting nothing but pink and sparkly everything. The few times you’ve had to restock on bandaids, she’d pick out designs starring princesses and vibrant animal print, and it might seem a little silly, but you think that the designs make her feel better whenever you have to use them.

You’d used the very last bandaid in the pack yesterday, when Charlie had taken a tumble on the playground and scraped her knee, and while she’s adorned with her princess bandage and feeling much better, you know it’s only a matter of time before she needs another one, and you also know you have a small window of time between picking Charlie up from kindergarten and her needing a snack before she has a meltdown.

“C’mon, Charles, pick out which one you want,” you tell your daughter, mostly just to hear her giggle at the use of her faux full name, but you really do hope she can make a decision quickly. You’d given her a granola bar that she ate on your walk to the store, but you know she’ll be requesting another snack soon, and that she’ll want something different, so you really have to get home to avoid a tantrum.

“Too many choices,” she says, looking very serious as she investigates all of her options, before she gasps excitedly and grabs a box of the shelf.

“Are you sure?” You ask, turning the box around in your hand after Charlie had all but shoved it at you. It’s completely different from what she’d been interested in lately, and while you don’t mind buying it for her and supporting her new interests, you want to avoid a meltdown when the next time she gets hurt, her bandaid isn’t pink.

“I’m sure, mama,” she reassures you, stretching up to grab your hand and try to pull you to the checkout, “let’s go now.”

Knowing when you’ve lost a battle, you let her lead you to the front of the store, paying for the package before slipping it in your bag and making it home just in time for Charlie to ask for another snack. You were so focused on feeding her, you’d forgotten all about the bandaids until Peter pulls them from your bag when Charlie runs up to him, crying and pointing to her scraped knee. He doesn’t even think before opening the box and ripping open a packet, sealing the bandaid to her knee with a kiss. It’s not until after, when he’d dried her tears and pressed kisses all over her face to send her running away in a fit of giggles, that he gets a chance to inspect the box.

“No way,” he huffs, turning the box over in his hands, looking at the image of the designs included plastered on the back.

“It’s what she wanted,” you respond, even though he wasn’t really asking.

“I didn’t even know they made these,” he says, placing the box of Spiderman-patterned bandaids back into your bag and shaking his head at the absurdity of it all, wondering what Charlie would do if she knew the truth.

[happybird16]

Transplant

Levi Ackerman / Reader

Warnings: Grief, fluff, not much else

Summary: Change isn’t always a bad thing.

This is sort of a modern companion piece to Beloved Mother. (Plug Plug) 🤣

Thank you so much to my beloved beta @theferricfox 💕💕

Word count: 6.9k

Ao3 Link

Note: Yes, I like flowers. Also, you might want some tissues?

The metal step stool creaks in protest beneath you, whining and metallic, as you stretch to reach the next box. The cardboard is rough against your fingers, the papery material stiff and sturdy as you pull it forward on the overhead shelf. With a strained grunt, you pull the heavy box down, quickly descending the steps to plop it onto the carpet below with a thud.

“You okay?” Levi calls over his shoulder from the other side of the small closet. “We can switch jobs if you want?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Muscles,” you reply with a huff, crouching down to open the package. “Most of this stuff is mine anyways.”

The hangers clack, loud and plastic, against one another as he works his way through the top row. The bottom, much more easy to reach, metal beam is already bare, forcing him to finally bite the bullet and start the upper half. Socked toes curled into the carpet, Levi has to stretch up onto his tiptoes to reach the higher rack.

“Are you sure you don’t want to switch?” you tease, watching his back stretch as he raises his arm high above his head. “That looks a little difficult.”

“Fuck you, you’re not much taller than me.” Pulling another hanger from the row, he asks, “What about this one? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear it.”

Turning away from peeling open the box, your eyes almost burn at the sight. “Ew!” It’s an absolutely hideous ruffled zebra striped shirt, something an old lady would wear to church and think is ‘fashionable’. “When did I ever buy that? No. Donate.”

With a grunt, Levi throws the article to the quickly growing pile to his left. To his right is a much larger box, the bottom barely filled with clothes you're keeping, a mix of his and yours, still on their hangers. Once everything’s sorted they’ll be neatly folded, the hangers placed in a separate box.

The two of you definitely have way too many shirts. Even though your new place's closet is bigger, this was definitely needed.

“These are my books,” you note, finally pulling open the corners that had been folding the box closed. You hadn’t even bothered taping most of your stuff up when you’d put them into storage, probably a stupid move at the time but something you’re grateful for now.

“We’ll have enough space now that you can actually get a bookshelf,” Levi points out, wordlessly adding several shirts you wear often to the right pile.

“That’ll be nice,” you note excitedly. “I probably won’t keep all of these though.”

Shuffling through the box, you note just how terrible your taste in literature used to be. Some of this stuff has to be from middle school at least, trashy garbage romance books and well worn horror novels. The mangas are definitely a keep though, maybe some of the more tasteful romance books. Hmm…

Pulling what turns out to be most of the volumes, a mix of hard and soft back, free from the cardboard, you add them to your own donation pile. “These ones are definitely going.”

Eying the stack, Levi snarks, “I’m not sure anyone’s even going to want to buy Twilight. Even at a discount.”

“That’s fair,” you agree, pushing the mostly empty box into your keep pile, right next to several boxes of holiday decorations. “We should definitely remember to label these before we leave.”

“I’ll try to find a Sharpie once we’re done here.” Holding up a cute dark green dress, Levi asks, “What about this one?”

“Keep, definitely.” It even has a neat little brown belt to tie around your waist. You’ll have to remember to wear it sometime soon, you can’t remember the last time you did. Maybe on your next date.

Ascending the small step stool again, you grab the next box off the shelf. It’s a bit older, the cardboard a bit lighter and more feathery under your fingers. “I think this one’s yours.”

“Probably all trash,” Levi confirms distractedly, holding up an old shirt in front of himself to access it. It’s a well-worn band shirt, one you’ve never seen him wear, but it must have gotten some love at some point judging by how faded the design on it is. Miraculously, it ends up being a keeper.

“They're yearbooks!” You note excitedly, quickly shifting through the stack to find one from his high school years. Sliding out one with ‘06 embossed on the side, you grin wolfishly at your husband. “Ooh I get to see you all pimple-faced and lanky.”

“As if. My acne was never that bad.” Levi says, pulling an entire armful of his countless button-up shirts to fill the entirety of the keep box.

“Lucky.” If only your skin had remained clear throughout all that stress and drama. Paging through the laminated paper, you quickly find one with your husband on it front and center. There he is, stuck mid-air in a high jump, his hair a flying mess, his face twisted up in anger. One hand raised high above his head, the shot catches him just shy of making contact with the ball. “Ooh you were on the volleyball team?”

Pulling out a new box for the keep pile, Levi starts thoughtlessly, “For two years, I was a spiker -hey don’t flip through it! We still have so much to do after this!”

“But you look so cute!” you exclaim, pointing at the small square photo of his 10th grade yearbook photo. Drowning in all black, the scowl he has in it is almost identical to the one he’s giving you now. “You really have had that same haircut forever.”

Rolling his eyes, Levi decides, “We’re making a new pile, those are going in the garbage.”

“Not happening,” you chime, adding the stack to your mostly empty box of books. “They’re going on my new bookshelf too!”

Levi grunts, throwing another one of his old shirts into the donation pile. “Of course they are. I’m sure our friends will love to see them,” he grumbles.

“Hange will, at least,” you agree, shaking your head at the next shirt Levi holds up. There’s no doubt in your mind that the wild brunette won’t tease Levi endlessly with the new ammunition. Levi didn’t look too different in high school, but you're willing to bet both middle school and elementary would be a different story. If it weren’t for your husband's urgency, you’d be bouncing on your feet, eager to take a look right now. “Erwin knew you back then, right?”

“Mhmm,” Levi nods, “since middle school. If Kenny and Uri didn’t move to a nicer district, Eyebrows and I would probably never have met.” Holding up a shirt from an old favorite anime of yours, Levi works his finger through a tear in the sleeve, “This one has a hole in it, do you want me to try and fix it?”

“Nah,” you shake your head. New beginnings and at all that, you think, pushing the box of your old tiny Christmas tree to your left. “It was nice of Erwin to lend you his truck for the week. Saves us the money of getting a mover.” You probably could have hauled all of the boxes with several trips in your little SUV, but there’s no way the furniture could have fit. Levi’s Harley wouldn’t have done much to help either.

“Nice,” Levi scoffs with a dramatic sneer. “The thing was fucking filthy.”

“Well it is a truck,” you point out. “He mostly uses it to haul lumber, there’s no need for it to be tidy. Though, I'm sure he’ll appreciate the deep clean you did when we give it back to him.”

“Would have been nice of him to offer to help us carry all this stuff down the stairs, though,” you gripe, looking at the steadily growing stack of boxes on either side of the room. Given that the living room and bathroom are already boxed up too, the stacks piled up around the entryway, there’s going to be quite the trip ahead of you. Some of them are really heavy too. At least you only have to carry them down two stories.

“We don’t have that much shit,” says Levi, watching you pull several boxes from the lower shelves. “We can do it ourselves just fine.”

“Oh, so he offered then,” you state with a knowing smirk. Levi avoids your eyes in response and that’s all the confirmation you need.

Some of your old hobby stuff, probably not particularly useful now, donate. “Are you sad to be moving out?”

After glancing at his watch, Levi starts rapidly pulling hangers from above head. “Why would I be?”

“It was your first apartment!”

“I’ve had many apartments, this was just the first one I had alone,” Levi corrects over his shoulder.

“Still, that was a big step. It must be a bit sad to leave it behind.”

Levi only shrugs in response, pulling a sweater from the high metal pole and immediately throwing it to his left.

“Hey, Hange gifted that to you for Christmas last year!” you chide jokingly, eying the hideous sweater on the top of the pile. Levi’s friend -now yours- always revels in getting your husband the most hideous holiday items they can find, enjoying the dread and disgust on Levi’s face. You still remember the cackle they’d released when he’d opened the carefully wrapped holiday paper to discover two reindeer in a provocative position, displayed in finely woven, brightly colored yarn. “They’re going to be upset you threw it out!”

“They probably assumed I already did.” Not an incorrect statement.

“Ya’ know, for a first solo apartment, you sure lucked out!” you exclaim, pausing in shifting through a box of sewing supplies to watch your husband shuffle around. It’s so cute watching him stretch up onto his tiptoes. “It’s not often you see them with walk-in closets.”

“Luck,” Levi scoffs with a click of his tongue. “The previous places I shared with Erwin and Hange were shit holes. This place isn’t much better.”

“It’s nicer than the place I had before I moved in.” Though some of that may be the result of Levi’s obsessiveness. The little building near your old college had smelled like nothing but weed and mildew, no matter how much air you let in. The neighbors were much more obnoxious too, given the university nearby. “You hated the place, remember? The rent is even cheaper here!”

“I’m pretty sure the landlord is up to some shady shit,” Levi huffs, tilting a bright pink blouse towards you. “This place is probably just some money laundering scam.”

Nodding your head at the shirt, you laugh in response, “Money laundering? That sweet old man?” You highly doubt Mr. Pixis is up to anything untoward, other than spending too much time day drinking in gay bars.

“Sweet as a lemon,” Levi snarks with a roll of his eyes. “Plus, you know he was always shit at responding to repair calls.”

“That’s because he’s usually drunk,” you point out. “Well, I know I’ll miss it. I wasn’t here nearly as long as you, but we sure made some memories here,” you note, eyes sliding to the open doorway. In your soon-to-be-no-longer bedroom, there’s now just emptiness. The mattress and bed frame were the first things to go. It creates a sense of urgency, according to your husband.

Right behind that had followed the rest of your bedroom, both of your dressers emptied and sorted through before the sun had even risen above the horizon. The large wooden pieces of furniture themselves had been hauled over in the truck alongside the first set of boxes.

The emptiness both adds to your sorrow and builds your excitement. Moving is always an absolute pain, but not this time.

Levi grunts in response, “There’ll be new ones.”

“I still can’t believe we bought a house. A HOUSE!” you exclaim, happily bouncing in place on the carpet. You were probably a bit too loud, given that the neighbor above almost immediately slams on the floor.

Smirking at your abashed look, Levi snarks, “As if ruining our backs last night, sleeping on the bare living room floor wasn’t enough for that to set in.”

“The sale went through! We’d just gotten keys! I was excited! Besides, you agreed to it!” Still elated, it’s difficult to keep your tone hushed. The words end up more of a stage whisper. “It’s not like you didn’t spend all of yesterday scrubbing the place from head to toe.”

Rising from the carpet, you cross the room to press yourself against Levi’s back. Arms wrapping around his waist, your chin digs into his shoulder as you hug him close. In a soft murmur, you explain, “It just doesn’t feel real. We saved for so long… I know you're excited too. I saw you looking at paint colors the last time we were at Walmart.”

The place is perfect too. A cute two story with powder blue siding and big windows, in a nice safe neighborhood right by a school. A nice cookie cutter with 2,500 square feet and a half acre backyard, just for the two of you. Two bedrooms, two baths, complete with a master bedroom and a master bath. Enough space for all your stuff and then some. Room to grow.

There’s so much to be excited about! A big kitchen, complete with marble countertops and a center island. You want to put in one of those fancy overhead pot racks, right above the center island. And it’ll be nice to no longer park on the side of the street, dreading the day someone inevitably swerves and takes out your mirror. You're already reveling in having a nice warm garage to park in during the area’s snowy winters.

It feels a bit like you’ve just gotten married and are finally venturing off to start your lives together.

Against your chest, you can feel that his shoulders are tight. Far worse than its usual stiffness, his back is ramrod straight with tension. Headless of you invading his space, Levi continues to pull shirt after shirt from the rack. “It’s going to be a big change, that’s for sure.”

Trying to poke at his weak points, you goad, “I can’t believe we’re going to have our own washer and dryer. We won’t have to share with 50 families anymore!”

“That’ll be nice,” Levi answers distractedly. Compared to his exuberance when you’d been touring the place, his response is downright placid.

Now, that’s not the correct response. He seems far too tense, something is definitely off and you have a guess.

“Listen,” you start, swaying in the balls of your feet to rock his body from side to side. “I know you don’t like change. I know that you're stressed -I am too- and you want to get everything packed up and moved over today, but we don’t have to. Both of us took all week off to get settled in, we can take our time. It’s just past noon, let’s take a break and go get some boba at the cafe down the street. One last time?”

Finally, he stops working, sliding a hanger back onto the rack with a resigned huff. Levi sighs, leaning back into your embrace with a heavy shudder. “I know. I’m sorry if I’ve been curt-“

“You haven’t been-“

“-but there’s just so much to do still. I just want to get everything settled so we can get home already.”

Home. He’s already calling it home. The words make your breath catch, heart stuttering warm and fast in your chest.

“Okay. I understand,” you murmur calmly, smoothing your fingers across his stomach. You can’t disagree with his sentiment. There’s still so much furniture and yard equipment you’ll need to buy this week, not to mention unpacking. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Levi murmurs back, squeezing his hand around yours where it rests on his belly. “Let’s get back to work. We still have the kitchen to get to after this.”

Tilting your head back, you let out a dramatic groan. The thought of conquering the kitchen fills you with dread. It’ll be the last step, but probably the most difficult one. The amount of bubble wrap you’d bought was horrifying, and you have no doubt Levi will want to clean every dish and piece of glassware before wrapping them up. Not to mention all the baking equipment. Once you arrive home and start to unpack, he’ll probably want to clean them after too.

You have no idea how you're even going to begin organizing the contents of the fridge.

“Yeah yeah..,” you sigh, feeling Levi shiver as warm breath dusts across his nape. Before pulling away, you press a quick kiss to the fabric at his shoulder.

Plopping back down onto the carpet, you pull the next box in front of you. Some of Levi’s teapot collection, keep. “Do you want to have a housewarming party?”

“That’s an actual thing?”

“Yeah!” The next box is familiar, you don’t even have to open it before setting it aside. It’s your own set of yearbooks, alongside some family photo albums. Maybe you’ll need two bookcases.

“That just sounds like more work,” Levi points out. “Not to mention the mess.” You have no doubt he’s imagining the hurricane Hange always leaves whenever they come over.

“People bring you gifts, I think. That’d be nice.” The box behind the last is ancient, tucked in the furthest corner of the shelf, the cardboard so old that it’s lost most of its color. “This one looks really old, it’s almost falling apart,” you tell him over shoulder. Stretching to pull at the edges and shift it forward, the resulting spray of dust makes you cough.

“I’ll remember to clean up our storage more often,” Levi clicks his tongue, silver eyes worriedly watching you wheeze. “It could be from middle school. I have some old woodshop projects up there somewhere.”

“Woodshop?” you ask, remembering the odd mix of life-skill classes you were required to take when you were little. “What did you make?”

“A stool, I think? Maybe a birdhouse? There’s an old car in there somewhere. I won first place in the race with it. Erwin was devastated,” Levi explains, sounding far too proud.

“Really? So you’ve always been good with your hands?” The innuendo only earns you a stern glare from your husband.

The box is surprisingly light, compared to the rest of the ones in storage. It must be packed tight, though, because there isn’t even a rattle from it when you set it down on the carpet. Opening it, the sight makes you twist your eyebrows up in confusion. “Its… women’s clothing?”

“What?” Confused as you are, Levi quickly sorts the articles in hand and comes over. Looming over your sitting form, he stutters, “Oh -that -that’s my mothers old stuff.”

He plops down hard beside you, as if his knees had been weak, shoulder brushing your own. Pulling a bunch of carefully folded white fabric from the box, it unfurls to reveal itself as a white dress, the neckline decorated with a tight weave of lace flowers.

“Is this all you have left of her?” Levi doesn’t talk about his early childhood that often, only a handful of times over the years you’ve spent together. Having gone with him to visit her grave several times, you know that she died very young just from her gravestone.

Kuchel Ackerman

Beloved Mother

May 20th, 1973 - April 16th, 2003

She hadn’t even been thirty. Having been born on Christmas Day of ‘90, he’d been just shy of becoming a teen when he’d lost her. You wonder if Levi has even realized he’s older now than she’d been when she’d passed.

“Mhmm,” Levi confirms, running his thumb along the fine silk dress. The look on his face is tight, shuddered, but there’s a fondness dwelling deep in his eyes. Voice soft, he whispers, “I forgot I had this stuff.”

“There’s a photo album,” you note, cautiously pulling the thick leather tome from the box. Despite the weathering of the container, everything in it seems clean and as fresh as the day they were placed in here. “Do I get to see you as a baby?”

“Not exactly,” Levi says, picking up a small jewelry box from the far corner. Flicking the lid open, a soft musical sound grinds out from the wooden box, the sound would be a soft twinkle if not for the aged gears. Levi sighs long and hard at the sound, eyes fluttering as his shoulders sag at the familiar tune.

Opening it to the first page, what greets you is far from what you’d expected. You’d thought it’d be full of old Polaroids of Mama Kuchel and baby-Levi, all naked and plump and pink. Instead, the photo-sleeves are full of flowers, carefully dried and pressed for preservation.

“Flowers?” There's hundreds of them, slid into the sleeves of every page. The book seems to be almost full, every page teeming with petals of vibrant colors. Reds and pinks of every tone, vibrant yellows, stark pristine whites, rich blues and purples, all flanked with soft green leaves of varying shades.

She must have learned as she went, because the first few flowers -some daisies and red roses- are roughly pressed. Her technique quickly adapts as the pages pass, the dried petals becoming a beautiful display. Beside every one is the tight, sharp scrawl of Levi’s mother, her handwriting a bit smaller, but nearly identical to his own. She identifies each flower in her neat cursive, complete with a date, right beside its sleeve.

“She liked to garden in her free time,” Levi explains, tugging a pair of tiny pearl earrings from the twinkling jewelry box. He lifts them up, briefly perusing the studs before replacing them within the wood. A small chain follows, thin and fragile looking as it twines around his fingers.

“Didn’t you live in a small apartment on the East Side?” It’s the poorest neighborhood in the area, you know that. The most dangerous too, if the news is anything to go by. They’re constantly discussing shootings on that side of town, or outright thefts. Right outside of the old industrial district, the whole neighborhood is nothing but old brick buildings, still stained with smoke from the long abandoned steel mills.

Levi nods his head, explaining, “There’d been a small empty lot nearby. I think it was supposed to be a community garden, but no one else really used it.”

You hum in response, drinking in a page of beautiful striped lilies, white with pink and orange with purple. “Must have been nice to have it all for herself then.”

“She found it therapeutic, I think. I remember helping her dig holes when I was barely knee high.” Replacing the jewelry box with a quieting snap and lifting a hand, Levi gestures about the correct height off of the ground.

It’s hard to picture, given that you’ve only ever seen one photo of the woman, tucked into your husband's wallet beside your own. She looked like him, you remember, only with a softer face and longer hair. In your mind's eye, you try to craft the image of a little version your husband by her side, small and energetic, his cheeks dusted with dark soil. “You? Digging in dirt? I can’t even imagine you touching a worm.”

“I mostly just helped pull weeds. I actually enjoyed it -it was nice,” Levi says, scooting across the carpet to rest his front against your back. Curling an arm around your waist, he rests his chin on your shoulder. “Mom was always happy and smiling when she was there.”

He describes her so rarely, but when he does she always seems so soft and sweet. “I would have loved to have been able to meet her.”

“She’d have loved you,” Levi breathes with a soft hum, smoothing his fingers across your stomach in a soft beat.

Continuing to leaf through the pages, the sheer variety of flowers within sends you into a state of awe. Some are quite common, something you’d see in any forest nearby, but some you wouldn’t even be able to identify if not for Kuchel’s helpful labels. There’s some repeating, as if perhaps the first plant didn’t make the winter -judging by the dates- so she tried again. Despite being dried over twenty years ago, you can still smell them, a fresh new wave of sweet and natural perfume filling your nose every page turn. “She grew all of these?”

“Not exactly,” Levi states, “some of those were stolen from greenhouses.”

“Stolen?” Your shock must be blatant, because Levi barely manages to hold in a laugh, the sound coming out as an airy snort.

“Mhmm,” Levi confirms with a soft hum. “We’d go on the weekends. She’d pick flowers that she’d liked and tuck them behind her ear to take home. Sometimes she even grew the seeds from them.”

“That’s not stealing! I doubt the owners even noticed or cared.” you justify, leaning back into his chest. You enjoy feeling the soft rise and fall of his chest, the soft rumble of his voice against your back. “It’s disingenuous at best.”

With a fond smile, his eyes distant and the edges crinkled in joy, Levi continues, “It was always a thrill whenever we went. Our secret little heist that we always got away with.”

You can only imagine the adrenaline surging through his little body, the loud peals of laughter once they’d gotten away with their crime. “That sounds like so much fun!” You always loved when your parents did stuff like that. Something harmless, but meaningful. A memory to cherish. “She sounds like a great mom.”

“She was,” Levi fails to hide a sniffle, grey eyes a bit watery. As you turn to the next page, Levi jolts behind you, pointing towards the page. “That one was her favorite.”

It’s a giant, red flower, taking up an entire page all by itself. The trumpet shaped petals, all five of them, surround a long yellowish-peach pistil. “A hibiscus?” you note, reading the little label beside it. “Why?”

“She liked to swipe more tropical looking flowers, imagining that we somehow managed to go somewhere nice. They didn’t always take, most of them couldn’t grow here. That one, though, grew like wildfire. We had to build a little wooden trellis to help it thrive.”

Whenever he speaks of her, Levi always seems so happy. Somber, no doubt, but with a fond smile curving his lips and a bright shine in his eyes. He’s mentioned before that his earlier memories have faded, to his absolute dread, making his time with her spotty at best. You're glad that he at least has these little pieces of her.

“Would it be alright if we displayed these?” you ask, still paging through the thick book. Long stems of lavender greet you about midway through, the scent still fresh and earthy. “We could put some in a picture frame in our new living room, right next to the couch?”

“I’d like that,” Levi hums, silver eyes drinking in the tight scrawl of his mothers handwriting, the dried petals of her hard work. All of his urgency gone, Levi rests heavily against your side, chin tucked tight to your shoulder.

“It’s a shame there isn’t a baby book though…”

“One’s been sitting on the shelf in our room this entire time,” Levi points out, a bit smug that you never noticed.

“What?”

Laughing at your surprise, Levi softly pats your shoulder before rising, “Let’s take a break after we finish up here. We can go get that boba before we start in the kitchen. One last time.”

Living in the suburbs is an adjustment, that’s for sure.

Everything is just so eerily quiet. There’s no neighbors, bouncing around or yelling, right on the other side of your wall. There’s no constant buzz of traffic, of horns and sirens blaring in the distance, only the soft hum of an occasional car passing by. The air even tastes fresher.

All of your routines were immediately ruined. It’s only a forty minute drive from your previous place, but everything was immediately so different. Every place you frequented, all the little mom&pop shops lining the sides of the busy city streets, every beloved take-out place, all now completely out of the way.

It was unsettling to you, at first, but Levi took to it like a duck in water. Spreading himself out to take up the new space, even heading to the nearby park to go on long runs in the mornings before work. You really should get fit and join him, make it a bonding activity. Given that the basement is quickly progressing its way into becoming a home gym, there’s really no excuse not to.

He’s even sleeping better now, out here where nights are nearly silent, save for the occasional buzz of a cricket or drone of a cicada. On the other hand, you almost miss the noise.

It was a revelation just to have so much space, with an actual back yard to boot. You have tentative plans to buy a hammock to put under the tall, flowering tree in your backyard. It would be a nice place to cuddle up together, lounging for hours beneath the white petals, fluttering softly in the breeze. Even though summer is just approaching, you can’t wait for winter, with long nights of sipping hot chocolate cuddling up in front of the fireplace.

On a bright and sunny Saturday afternoon, as you pull into the driveway, Levi is mowing the front lawn in tight, meticulous lines. You should have known that he’d be obsessive with lawn care. It’s been a solid month since you’ve moved in, but the sight never ceases to surprise you. No doubt, the weed wacker will follow, trimming all of the edges to a perfect point.

Given that the warmer months are quickly approaching, the growing heat, alongside the exertion, has him working shirtless, sweat shining bright along his muscle-packed torso as he pushes the noisy mower across the uneven terrain of your front lawn, winding around tree after tree. You hadn’t even realized how much more work a hilly lawn would be, but Levi seems to enjoy the challenge week after week.

Not even bothering with the garage, you park about halfway up the driveway, waving at your husband as he curiously turns off the mower mid-pass. As you exit your little SUV, he quickly approaches, pulling his goofy little earplugs from his ears to wrap the cord around his sweaty neck.

“Levi,” you greet excitedly as he jogs up to your side. “I got you a surprise!”

Pulled forward by a soft clasp on your shoulder, he greets you with a quick kiss. Brows drawn tight in curiosity, Levi’s gaze his firm on your own as he asks, “Didn’t you have plans with Hange? Did they cancel on you again?”

“Come here! Come here!” you wave at him excitedly, ignoring his questioning gaze. Continuing to wave, you lead him around the backside of your car.

As he follows, frowning down at the mud-coated knees of your jeans, the smattering of darkness coating the front of your t-shirt, Levi asks, “Why are you covered in dirt?”

“Don’t mind that- Look!” With a click, you pop open your trunk, the back end swinging high overhead with a loud creak.

“You bought flowers for the garden?” Levi asks, eyeing the collection of plants packed tight into the trunk of your car. There’s so many that the cheap black plastic containers are all right against one another with no space in between.

“The little lot was still abandoned, but everything was still there. It was crazy overgrown with weeds, but I managed to pull these ones from the mess,” you blurt excitedly, the words coming out a bit too fast.

“Wait -what are you talking about?”

“The little trellis was still there by the way,” you continue unheeded. “Though it was mostly just wooden bits.”

“Have you lost your mind? The fuck are you even saying?” Eyes searching your face, Levi seems to be assessing whether or not you’ve suddenly gone insane during the few hours you’d been away.

Pointing a finger into your trunk, you urge, “Look! Do you recognize them?”

Levi takes a moment to eye the collection, silver gaze drifting across roses, red, yellow, and pink. Lavender in pastel purple, tall and straight in its containment, high enough to brush the roof. Tulips, both monochrome and striped, miss-matched all into one group. At the sight of the big, robust red petals of a hibiscus, his jaw openly drops. “Wha- you- what?”

It looks like his brain has fried, something backfiring along the back of his skull and short circuiting his system. Wide eyed, brows drawn up high behind his bangs, Levi seems to be at a loss for words. His jaw works, mouth opening and closing, lips pursing, but nothing escapes. Chest heaving with deep, rapid breaths, he leans forward to caress the soft red petals.

“I know you were planning on planting some tea, but I think this wouldn’t be too much more work. You could easily do both.” Hopefully this isn’t too much of a burden for him to deal with. Maybe you didn’t think this through completely.

“You,” Levi’s voice is so small, quavering as he struggles to comprehend your gift. He sounds like a small child, awed by the perfect present. “You brought Mom’s garden…”

“It’s not that much, I could only separate out some of it-“

“-oof!” You're cut off, pulled in by a frantic embrace. Levi’s arms pull you hard into his chest, wrapping around your waist and across your back with such strength that it steals all the air from your lungs. Face pressing against your collarbone, you can feel a wetness from where his face burrows against your skin. “Are you crying?”

You haven't seen him cry since your wedding day, several years ago, and even then it’d been quiet. Merely a light shedding of tears, no noise, and even then he’d waited until the two of you were alone to do so. Now, he’s gasping, shoulders shuddering as he sobs into the divot of your collarbone.

“You brought me Mom,” he warbles, almost a whine. The fingers at your shoulder blades become claws as he tries to nuzzle further into your embrace. “I couldn’t go back, not after everything that happened, but you brought her to me.”

“You loved her, more than anything, and she loved you too. But she was taken from you too soon,” you explain softly, patting his back. “We can visit her grave, and yeah we have some of her things, but I- I wanted some part of her to be here, living with us. For you.”

Smoothing your fingers along his bare back, the man practically trembles within your embrace, pressing his whole weight into your form. “All of it might not survive, transplanting can be a bit rough. I did my best with their roots.”

“I love you,” he states, firm even as he hiccoughs. Pressing a wet kiss to your neck, he continues, “I can’t believe you did this.”

“It’s nothing,” you state, firm and simple, even as your eyes start to tear up. Pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, your words are a bit watery as your eyes begin to leak a lazy trail along your cheeks, “We’ll take care of it together.”

Taking deep breaths, Levi struggles to calm down, eyelids fluttering against your sternum. “You're covered in dirt,” he notes again, nose curling up as he peels away from your torso.

“And you're all sweaty,” you chide right back, curling up your nose in mock disgust. Part of you wants to comment on the wet mark he left on your neck, a mix of snot and tears, but he struggles enough with expressing his deeper emotions as is. “Why don’t we take a bit of a break, get some tea, and then start digging holes.”

Levi shakes his head in response, still sniffling a bit, “I don’t want them sitting for too long. That can’t be good for them.”

“They were strong enough to survive on their own for almost 20 years, I’m sure it’ll be fine if you need a break.” Levi shakes his head in response, eyes already accessing the mostly bare stretch of your garden, so you say, “Let’s at least find something to wipe off your face with.”

“It’s fine,” Levi says, “I have a towel folded up on the porch for once I was done with the yard. I can just use that.”

When he wanders back, a bit less sweaty and snotty, his nose is still bright red, the skin around his eyes flushed a bright pink. “Where do you want them?” you ask him.

“Most of them need a lot of sun, so along the front of the house will probably be best.” It’s amazing to you just how much gardening knowledge Levi remembers, despite being so young at the time. “They’ll need water almost daily at first.”

Nodding your head, you decide, “I’ll set a phone alarm so I remember when I get home from work.”

“I’ll get it, you’ve already done more than enough,” Levi replies, waving you off as you begin to pull out your phone.

Pulling the dirty shovel from the back seat of your car, Levi suddenly turns with a start, pointing at you with an accusing finger, “You lied to me!”

“I -uh…,” you start, stuttering at the sudden, absolutely correct, accusation. “I’d merely been in the area..,” you try, the words sounding weak and defeated.

“With a shovel and the trunk of your car lined with a tarp?” Pulling twin sets of cloth from your back seat, the fabric flops around as he jerks them towards you, “You even had gloves!”

Raising your hands in defeat, you concede, “Okay, okay, you got me! I had this all planned out. Hange was totally going to back me up if you’d called them.”

“You went to the East Side by yourself?” At the words, Levi’s sharp gaze drags slowly across your firm, trying to find any sign of injury. “Do you know how dangerous that was? Remember, I got stabbed down there once? I told you about that right?”

“It’s fine! It’s fine!” you soothe, mind picturing the light white skin of the scar decorating the left side of Levi’s belly. “The most I got was some scratches from the thorn bushes.”

“You shouldn’t have gone alone!” Levi asserts angrily, but you know it’s just concern. “You could have actually brought Hange at least, they’d make a good meat shield. I hope you at least had something to protect yourself!”

“I have a taser somewhere in my car? I think it’s in my glove box?”

“You think?” Huffing a loud sigh, shoulders sagging in defeat, Levi pleads, “Next time you do something like this, at least tell me first okay?”

“I’m an adult, I could handle it. I didn’t even really see anyone anyways. The whole apartment complex seems to be abandoned,” you explain. All the windows on the first floor had been broken and the brickwork had been coated with graffiti, but the whole area had been eerily quiet other than the yowling of some stray cats. There’d been a handful of ominous pops in the distance, but that’s something you’ll only mention when you tell this story years down the line. “Honestly the sketchiest part was finding a place to park.”

Shaky hands pulling a pot full of hibiscus from the trunk, one of many since you’d tried to get as much of that one as possible, he remarks, “I can’t believe you sometimes.”

Helping unload some red roses, you say, “The risk was worth it, to bring some of her home for you.” It almost feels as though, this way, she’s still alive. You never got to meet her, but this way your mother-in-law would get to greet you as you came home every day.

You hope that it brings Levi a sense of comfort, having her here with you. That the lingering, distant memories of her blossom and grow alongside them. Her flowers, her garden, brightening up the front of your new home.

Maybe, one day, when your family grows to fill the empty rooms, your little ones will help take care of them with the both of you, tending to Kuchel’s garden just as Levi did.

“Thank you, I -I don’t have words,” Levi stutters, carefully putting the leafy hibiscus on the cement of your driveway. Bluster gone, tears are suddenly building in his eyes once again. “I’m going to pay you back for this.”

The words sound like a threat, but just the warble in his voice tells you he wants to do something sweet for you. “It’s really not necessary.”

Sniffling again, Levi thumbs the soft edge of a red petal. Over the passing years, the plant seems to have grown and grown. Whereas the previous blooms had been big enough to fit on a page, these ones almost dwarf Levi’s entire face. Smiling down at them, soft and sweet, Levi murmurs, “I don’t know how, but I will, just you wait.”

Tag list: @levmada (I should really do one of those polls to get names)

[thebeckster]

May 2024 Casual Prompt Fill

Didn't think I was going to have anything for the prompts this month over at @love-bokumono-fics, nothing really struck a note of inspiration this month. But I was looking at the choices again tonight and suddenly had an idea. So I spent 30 minutes putting this down on paper.

It's an alternate prompt, using Livestock rather than the winning choice of Rarepairs. I've been itching over the last couple days to start up a new file on a farm sim just to have the fun experience of starting anew. I might have to boot up another FoMT file tomorrow, because writing this fic did not scratch that itch entirely lol

You can read the fic on AO3, but since it's pretty short, the whole thing is here too. Enjoy!

A New Friend

Pete had been waiting for this day all his life. Or it felt like it. Really just in the last couple weeks had the idle daydream had a chance of becoming reality.

Today he was going to buy a chicken!

Most people wouldn’t see such an occasion as something so monumental, but for a fledgling farmer it was a significant milestone. Ever since moving onto the farm, he’s scrimped and saved every spare penny into an old pickle jar which he’d labeled confidently as his “Livestock Fund.” And he had just enough saved up for a chicken and some feed.

He’d put blood, sweat, and tears into repairing the ramshackle chicken coop on the property, sealing up the walls to keep his future hens safe and snug, salvaging and repairing the nesting boxes and feed silo, he’s even built a fenced in little yard for them to scratch around in and enjoy the fresh air and sunshine on nice days.

Rick had been by yesterday to inspect Pete’s work on the coop, and it had passed his inspection. So as soon as the Poultry Shop opened, Pete was going to walk in and ask Lilia for their finest hen.

Pete looked around his farm, still rather raggedy looking, clearing out all of the weeds and debris after so many neglected years was a harder job than he anticipated, but he could see its potential so clearly in his mind’s eye. Acres of lush crops, wide pastures with a variety of livestock happily grazing, the contended cluck of chickens scratching for bugs to eat.

A farm just wasn’t a farm without animals.

Sure Pete had his dog, the happy little puppy he’d adopted when he moved in was going to grow to be a fine farm dog. But he needed more than a pet companion. If his farm was going to be successful, he needed livestock. Cows and sheep seemed pretty complicated for a brand new farmer, but a chicken seemed to be perfectly on his level. He’d read every book on chickens the library had. He was so ready for this!

The morning seemed to crawl by as Pete did his chores, watering the plots of crops he had planted, clearing out the few weeds that were stubbornly trying to grow back in the tilled soil, picking what forage he could from the mountain. Every penny mattered, and while he knew the chicken was going to help him make more money, he also knew he was taking on another mouth to feed.

Finally the time came for the store to open and Pete hurried, though he tried not to run, to the neighboring farm. Brimming with excitement, he strode through the doors, slammed his money on the counter and proclaimed, “Lillia, your finest hen please!”

The shopkeeper laughed kindly at the display and pulled a small cage out from behind the counter. “Popuri picked her out just for you. She said the two of you would be a perfect match.”

Pete beamed at the bird, she was beautiful. Snowy white feathers, little red face, bright black eyes, yellow beak and feet. She seemed mildly disgruntled, ruffling her feathers at the cage and glaring suspiciously at Pete. When he peered closer she shook herself and made a few low, disapproving clucks.

“She’s perfect! Has she got a name?”

“You have the honor of naming her. She’s just gotten old enough to begin laying, but it might take her a few days to settle in. Once she’s happy and comfortable in her new home she should be a wonderful addition to your farm. Her mother is a prodigious layer, so you’ll have plenty of eggs to sell and eat soon enough.”

“Then I’ll have to think up a good name for her. Something that suits her.”

Still smiling, Lillia began counting Pete’s money. “Take your time and let her personality come out. She’s just been called ‘hey chicken’ while she’s been with us. We usually wait til they’re grown before naming them. Saves us from having a chicken named Sweetpea with the personality of an angry demon. Now you’ll be wanting some feed too? I’ll send Rick over with it later.” She closed the till and wrote out a receipt for Pete and a small pouch of feed. “Now you take your new friend home and get her settled, having a snack will help her feel at home in the new coop. And don’t forget, if you have any questions or concerns, we’re here for all your poultry needs!”

With a cheerful wave, she sent Pete out the door. As he walked, he held the cage close to his chest, looking down at his new chicken more than the road in front of him. She continued clucking softly, as if commenting on the scenery or conversing with Pete all the way back.

“You are chatty,” Pete laughed as he stepped onto his farm. “Maybe Cathy? Hmm… no. Well, we’re here. Take a look around at your new home.” And he held the cage out for the chicken to see. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but I have plans for it, and you’re going to help me make them come true.”

He carried the chicken to the coop and opened the cage for her. He waited excitedly for her to step out on her own and begin looking around. She was slow and hesitant at first, taking cautious steps around the coop, she flinched every time Pete moved, fluttering away with an alarmed squawk, but she became braver when he tipped some of the feed out for her to eat. When she ate what he’d given her she looked at him expectantly. With a laugh, he tipped some of the feed into his palm.

The hen didn’t waste much time approaching him and inspecting the food in his hand, and when she decided he was safe she happily ate.

When she had finished her snack, Pete opened the door which led to the fenced in enclosure he’d built. She was quite happy to have the sunshine and fresh air available to her and moved quickly into the yard. Pete watched her inspect every corner and scratch around, and when he was content that she couldn’t break through the fence, he let her be and returned to his work.

He worked in the fields closest to the coop, so he could keep half an eye on his new chicken while he cleared out more debris. His dog came over to investigate the new addition and Pete had a very serious talk with the puppy that the chicken here was a friend, not food. It was his dog’s job to protect their friends, not scare them. And the puppy seemed to understand, or perhaps he just had gained a healthy respect for the chicken already. She had squawked and pecked at his nose when he came sniffing around her fence.

All the while Pete worked the chicken chattered. Maybe she just missed the noise of the other chickens at the poultry farm, or maybe she just liked hearing herself talk. Pete entertained himself with the idea that the chicken was commenting on his work, complimenting his technique with the scythe, criticizing him for not giving her the worms he uncovered when he moved a rock. Once, he was certain she actually laughed at him when he’d misjudged how robust an old stump was and ended up getting his axe stuck in the wood. He’d managed to get it unstuck with no small amount of effort, and all the while he struggled the chicken clucked and clucked.

“You never stop talking, do you?” Pete panted, sitting on the ground next to the fence and wiping sweat from his brow. “Got a lot to say. Like my very own peanut gallery. Hey!” He perked up. “That’s a good name for you, Peanut. What do you think? Cluck once for yes and twice for no.”

The chicken stared at him for a moment, her eyes narrowed in thought. Then she jerked her head in what almost looked like a nod and clucked once.

“Peanut is it.” He reached through the fence and brushed a couple fingers over Peanut’s feathered head. “Welcome to the farm, Peanut old girl. You and me are going to be good friends. I can tell.”

Peanut pecked at his fingers in annoyance, and stalked out of reach ruffling her feathers.

Pete chuckled and flopped back into the grass. “Start of a beautiful friendship.”

[firespirited]

Ladies, gentlemen and enbans,

Meet my beautiful new second hand cane!

I've been procrastinating about buying one for a while with various foldable or footed ones in wishlists and today... there it was. and while I can't use it much due to the shoulder pain, it's already helped me stand in place longer than possible without it.

Sis saw a Facebook post about an indoor garage sale for today, within my walking abilities *but* up the hill (we live on one side of a three side "bowl" of foothills so technically everything is pretty much up or down but this hill is like 12 degree incline in parts)

I said I'd consider this adventure if we could do a trial run. So we made the trek with the dogs. Lily remembered that she could run, a huge yellow lab gave her a massive rock she was carrying in her mouth, there were acorns everywhere and a nice lil bridge at sitting height for us to stop and rest.

So today, we set out in the rain, minus dogs, to the unknown just a house with stuff for sale : would it be stuff left from a move, a death, just decluttering, expensive fancy stuff, kids stuff?

We arrived early (turns out dogs sniffing around takes up an extra ten minutes) and watched as half a dozen cars pulled up, which is wild. People are never early round here! guess the antiquing folks like to be there as soon as the doors open.

Two middle aged ladies ushered us all into their yard and then into the teeny tiny house to three rooms divided by a staircase, none of it seemed to follow geometry. Two daughters selling their mother's various collections to make space: mugs, books, vinyls, paintings, cat sculptures, silverware and lots of fabric findings. She had been a seamstress. There were tins filled with buttons, I would have bought some but knew I had to carry it home.

One seemed a little panicked after running around setting things down in the yard so I helped with a frame and asked how she was doing with all this and we chit chatted for a while. From what I understand at least one of the daughters is living there on a higher floor, the cats don't need rehoming and one had to be forcibly removed from a comfy nest in the fabric stash just before everyone arrived. 😁 They're doing ok but the clutter was overwhelming and they hoped some of it might sell and be taken away, simply, without third parties or listings. Quite a few of the furniture pieces got claims within the 45 minutes we were there so I think they'll be fine.

I saw the cane in a set of three at the entry to the yard within 20 seconds and I knew it was the one, it carried me through the rest of the visit in any case. Didn't ask about other medical equipment (Medical buyback doesn't give you much and buying from the medical shops is expensive so it's advantageous to all parties. I got my wheelchair for double the buyback from a dude who didn't need it anymore and it was less than a third of the price). But I get the impression she was fairly able bodied with maybe a little help walking only.

There was no sewing machine in sight so either it's gone to the daughters or it was sold for a lot more than today's low priced bits and bobs. I was kinda hoping I might get to witness an antique Singer in the footpedal desk or the square looking 70s Singer in the case when I heard the word seamstress - granny used to have both when I was little.

Clothes, shoes and grooming items were all missing too. The ladies might not be at the point where they feel ready for that yet. Maybe they needed the clutter 'space' to be able to do a more personal sort out.

So quite the adventure. I didn't get the "shop overload" because the lights and sound were normal, items were in boxes with the price per item or to ask (understood to be under 10€) no confusing pricing between washing liquids per wash, per litre, per kilo and special offer (aka what's the catch). It was cramped but no people megastress either so that was manageable.

I did start thinking about what we leave behind on the way home. Did chat a little with sis about our most prized treasures and how they're imbued with value that no one else would know about by just looking at them. We both felt a little gloomy over that so switched to talking about the types of person we'd seen.

[meenawrites]

9 Books

Hellooooo so sorry for the lateness of this.

The lovely @carryonsimoncarryonbaz tagged me a while ago and I forgot to answer (but I have remembered! A triumph with my goldfish brain for real)

Likewise, series will be a single entry for me. Also guys, I feel like I haven't read a physical book in way too long, so some of these might be favorite reads of the moment and of all time. Also in no particular order:

The Carry On trilogy by Rainbow Rowell (@rainbowrowell). I will never shut up about this series. The characters and writing are some of my favorite ever, and I love seeing everyone's interpretations on here of different lines and moments and uncovering new layers to all of their emotional journeys. If you like the chosen one trope and have ever wondered what happens to the hero once they've done the thing/fulfilled the prophecy, this is definitely for you.

The An Ember in the Ashes series by Sabaa Tahir. I have yet to read the last book though so no one spoil! But a super well done series with incredible worldbuilding, plot, and characters. Definitely not a light-hearted series though so like be forewarned.

Dragonfall by L.R. Lam (@lauraroselam) I read this recently but as soon as I finished it I had the urge to re-read it again (which I will when I have time) just to re-absorb and understand everything about the world and character. It's such an imaginative world with very well defined history and social norms that my lore-loving brain couldn't get enough of. Highly recommend and can't wait for the sequel.

The Percy Jackson series by Rick Riordan (obviously). One of my favorites of all time and a big marker of my childhood. Ashamed to say that I still haven't read The Blood of Olympus though, so don't come at me. I'm planning a reread of the full series at some point so I can actually remember what was going on before I read it.

The Wrath & The Dawn duology by Renée Ahdieh. This is a re-write/re-imagining of the tale of 1001 Nights. The characters in this were great, and Renée's descriptions were so beautiful and artistic. Being Middle Eastern myself, I really felt like she captured the essence of our food and culture. I just really loved reading a Middle Eastern-inspired fantasy for once. I like to go back to it a lot, and definitely need to read other books by this author.

Peter & The Starcatchers series by Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson. Another childhood favorite. This is a re-write/re-imagining of Peter Pan, and starts with the story of how he actually became Peter Pan. From what I remember of this series, I absolutely loved the first three books. The last two were pretty good as well, but we started getting into a more modern time period and it wasn't my favorite thing to explore.

Sorcery of Thorns by Margaret Rogerson. This was a recent read so it's definitely just kind of been on my mind a lot. If you like magic libraries and flirty banter, you should read this. I loved the concept of books being alive and dangerous, and I loved the two main characters a lot. Elizabeth was a surprising delight and I really loved how smart and adaptable she was. All in all, it was just very enjoyable and ticked a lot of my favorite boxes.

Fablehaven series by Brandon Mull. This is another childhood staple. (I legitamately haven't had the opportunity to sit and read in so long that I'm blanking on anything I may have read in more recent years, forgive me). This was a super fun series with the main plot being about two siblings being sent to live with their grandpa for the summer who they don't really know very well. It seems like a normal farm on the outside but when magical things keep happening on the premises, it's hard to keep that façade up.

Ok so I didn't make it to 9. Clearly I haven't read much recently, and it's actually hurting my ego. This is tragic. I have a lot of books, but reading and buying books are lowkey separate hobbies for me. Someone recommend good books to me down below please and I will endeavor to read them.

I'll tag some people below whose usernames I actually know off the top of my head (sorry to any of my mutuals who don't see their names here), but I'd love to see anyone's favorites so feel free to tag me and participate.

@be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie

@shit-i-say-shit-i-think

@hyperfixatedfandomer

@milesocorro

@makedonsgriva

@noonopanir01

@rotxos-sweetheart

[nordic-language-love]

(Re)introduction post

I seem to be gaining a lot of new followers atm (migrants from langtwt, I’m guessing! In that case: hello and welcome to langblr!) SO here’s a little bit about me and my blog!

About Me

I mostly go by Victoria online and it's what I prefer

She/her

In my 30s (yes I am a Real Adult with at least some of my shit figured out)

UK born and raised (East Midlands), although I'm moving to Japan soon!

I currently teach English as a foreign language on italki to students of all ages (current age range is something like 5-60), but will be teaching at an Eikaiwa from January

I'm also an aerialist (pole and hoop), which I teach and perform, a stilt-walker and fire performer (you can go visit my sideblog @jo-jenova if you're interested)

I'm also a fan of gymnastics, dance, writing (fantasy/sci fi/general fiction), baking, buying and owning books (and occasionally reading them), vikings (not in a weird white supremacist way), corvids, cats, Star Trek and, of course, linguistics

I’m currently awaiting an ADHD and autism assessment. I’m 99.9% sure I have ADHD and have pretty much no doubts that I’ll get a diagnosis (autism I’m less convinced of, but we’ll see what the experts say)

Languages

My native language is English (British - close to modern RP)

I also speak Norwegian and it is my main love/target language. This year I took the official B2/C1 exams and got C1. I write bokmål and speak a variety of Oslo dialect.

I'm also learning Japanese (current level: not quite N5). My goal is to reach a comfortable N5 level before I go there.

I largely understand Scots (more written than spoken), Danish (more written than spoken) and Swedish.

Languages I love and have some experience with but am not learning right now include: Finnish, Icelandic, Ukrainian, Tswana, Spanish

Wishlist: Korean, Cornish, Irish, Old Norse, Old English, Chinese

I can speak/understand a bit of French because I learned it for like 12 years but I've forgotten most of it (I do appear to be dabbling in it a little again though whoops lol)

I post primarily about Norwegian, Japanese, other Nordic languages, Celtic languages (Scots included as an honorary member) and linguistics, but occasionally I'll post about other things too.

About My Blog

My blog focuses primarily on my own personal language journey. I'm not really about aesthetics (you might get an aesthetic picture once in a blue moon) or pretending to be more advanced than I am. I mostly try to reflect where I am.

Sometimes this means I come across as bragging when I’m proud of myself or attention-seeking when I’m feeling down. That’s not my intention; I mostly just aim to be honest with myself and everyone else.

I post language logs once a week. These are so I can keep a track of what I've been doing and how I feel from week-to-week. They're not to show off how much I did or make anyone feel like they should be doing more. But if they make you feel that way and need to unfollow me because of that, then I understand.

Other things I post may include vocabulary lists, grammar posts, things related to linguistics, challenges and links to things related to my target languages that I find interesting.

I don’t do drama or discourse. I feel no obligation to respond to inflammatory asks and usually delete anything that I think is contentious. This is a language blog and it’s pretty rare that I deviate from that (I have a side blog for all my non-languagey stuff). But of course you can ask me questions about me and my life!

My blog is absolutely a safe space for people from all walks of life regardless of sexual identity, gender identity, ethnicity, nationality, colour, religion, size, IQ, background etc. If you consider that to be an issue, then you know where the unfollow button is.

I’m kinda terrible at replying to messages, so please don’t take it personally if I never respond to you.

My ask box is always open and anon is always on, so please feel free to send me any questions you have! (But uhh like I say I’m bad at replying sometimes so please just give me a nudge because honestly I may have just forgotten)

[cartograffiti]

May '24 reading diary

This month, I finished 16 books, mostly quick cookbooks and graphic novels!

I started May by listening to a very unseasonal full-cast audiobook of E.T.A. Hoffmann's original The Nutcracker and the Mouse King. When I was a child, I read a lot of different text adaptations of the Tchaikovsky ballet adapted from this story, but only realized I'd never read the original when a friend got me to read Hoffmann's squarely horror story "The Sandman" a few years ago. This was creepier than the ballet story, though clearly written for children, and I'm very glad to have gotten around to it.

K.J. Charles, author of a large number of romances I'm a fan of, put out her first mystery A-plot novel, Death in the Spires. I think it's a good introduction to her style if you're not a big romance person, and I think it was the right call for this plot to prioritize the genre elements in this way, but I also have found her B-plot mysteries more exciting. No problem, I liked it a lot, and it has a lot of juicy thoughts about justice as distinct from the law and how trust is earned or lost. Gay disabled detective.

Two sports romances: You Should Be So Lucky, a sensational 1960s baseball player/magazine journalist relationship, meditating beautifully on the fear of failure and on grief. One of the mains was in a long-term relationship with someone who has died, and I think this is the best widowed romance character I've ever read. Sebastian is also just fabulous at taking a tour of a made-up person, full of small details and slice-of-life stakes. I've read all her books and will continue to; I like her particular approach to historicals and her ability to make queer happy endings distinct and individual. M/M.

The other sports romance I read this month is The Boxing Baroness by Minerva Spencer, which I only mildly enjoyed. Unfortunately I don't even have any real criticisms, I just very simply didn't click with Spencer's style on a sentences level, particularly in sex scenes. Your mileage will vary! There is a lot of really enjoyable bits about the hot honorable love interest thirsting over how strong and cool he thinks the heroine is, and he's right. This is definitely worth trying if the basic premise of woman boxer Regency is your thing. Wait, I do have one plot criticism--this would have been stronger without the epilogue. We didn't actually need to meet [historical figure redacted]. M/F.

Graphic novels--I used to read Chelsey Furedi's Rock and Riot when it was coming out as a webcomic, and I was excited when her follow-up, Project Nought, was suspended soon after launch because of a book deal. Unfortunately I somehow missed it when the book actually came out in 2017, and only when Heartstopper sent me on a nostalgia trip last month did I realize I could read it. I wish I had read Project Nought when it was new! A lot of the sci-fi plot no longer feels futuristic even 7 years on, although the core twist is just fabulous. There isn't enough of the interpersonal depth that shines in Rock and Riot, the villain plot resolution is a bit too easy for the YA market, and overall I just wouldn't pitch this as more than pleasant.

The rest of the graphic novels, far more than pleasant, I read volumes 8, 9, 10, and 11 of Witch Hat Atelier by Shirahama Kamome. This was a good batch to read close together, as they all deal with the events of the same festival. Unfortunately I have to wait for my library to buy the next to see the resolution, but that's how manga goes! I loved a lot of what's happening at this point, with some fabulous milestones in the Coco-Agott friendship, lots of good moments from my favorite of the adults (Olruggio), and continuing to push down on the question of forbidden magic. Shirahama brings in both strong cases of things that deserve to be banned (glasses that let you see through people's clothes, not treated as remotely funny) and things that...maybe don't. I really cannot tell what ethics resolution might be end-game, which is very exciting.

Cookbooks! My lovely mother surprised me with a copy of an 80s book I'd been looking for, Vineyard Seasons by Susan Branch. I wouldn't exactly call her style pastoral, but I've seen her rediscovered a bit by cottagecore, Ghibli-esque, and related aesthetic bloggers. If that kind of romantic daily life artwork appeals to you, you might like her books as much as I do; every page is full of Branch's watercolor paintings, sometimes ornamental borders and sometimes illustrations of the sights of her home in Martha's Vineyard. I read and re-read her books just to linger over the pictures, but almost every recipe I've tried has been a winner.

I also borrowed a whole bunch of cookbooks of literary-inspired recipes. I went through two by Alison Walsh (A Literary Tea Party and A Literary Holiday Cookbook), which were disappointing; they draw from a pretty small range of books, and rely a lot on food coloring to fit the themes. Meanwhile, The Mystery Writers of America Cookbook (ed. Kate White) has a really wide range of difficulty level and approach, only some of them inspired by fiction. Each recipe was contributed by a different author, making it fun in the same way that church and community cookbooks can be, but I don't have any wish to own this, either. I have two others still to look at. (And I already own some I do recommend, Kate Young's Little Library cookbooks and Tim Federle's literary cocktail books.)

More nonfiction: DK Publishing's really insubstantial small coffee table book Banned Books, which didn't have quite enough text (I shouldn't have finished any entries unsure on what grounds they were banned/challenged, and did), but some pretty vintage covers (and not enough of those either).

Really great, with loads of pictures and thorough text: The Big Reveal: An Illustrated Manifesto of Drag by Sasha Velour. I was first aware of gender-fluid queen Sasha Velour as an illustrator and zinester, and in many ways they're the reason I was first interested in drag performers. This book doubles as a history of drag and a personal memoir of Velour's experience with it, and I enjoyed both equally. The history is well-researched and thoughtful, and the memoir is generous and self-aware. And it has some of their comics!

And I'm still reading Dorothy Dunnett's Lymond Chronicles at about one per month. I finished Pawn in Frankincense in May--lush and devastating and funny and infuriating and completely absorbing. Still not a series I would recommend to everyone, and still one I'm so glad I'm reading at this exact moment, when my emotions can go through the juicer and not feel scarred afterwards.

[bitchfitch]

idk how Haze and Aleistar met is on my mind.

bc like. Imagine this. You're in your 50s, you've got politician buying money from your boring but fulfilling job doing the numbers for your bff's real estate hoard. and you're fucking miserable.

You have your friend, and are grateful to know him, but everyone else in your peer group is some combination of snotty, spoiled, back stabbing, and snide. And there are so many nights where the gnawing loneliness is just. Eating at you. You aren't like them. You have place in their ranks only by merit of insane luck and too many nights sleeping at your desk, they were all just handed what you bled for.

You're not bad looking, you've got the kind of money that can buy love. but watching your friend suffer through one, two- four divorces, it puts a bad taste in your mouth. You desperately desire the kind of companionship that comes with late nights spent talking in bed and body warmth and animal pleasures and loyalty and love- You're a sap. You want nothing more than the white picket fence life your parents were promised when they moved here but which they never got to see.

Your friend hands you a book one day. He's sour about it and says it didn't help him at all, but it might help you. It's old. handwritten. It's a summoner's notebook. Your friend marked a page.

A demon who once served as guide and prophet for a long dead king. You already knew his name. His betrayal and roll in the fall of two nations was a foot note in every history book you studied in school.

You know why you're miserable. Why you never found a woman to love and hold dear. Why You were never meant for that life you dreamed of. You didn't need to ask a traitorous demon to tell you what was wrong.

You wanted to though. Itched to have that final confirmation that you were defective so you could package all your discontent up and burry it like a corpse you never want to be found. Maybe he might even be able to tell you how to fix yourself. You're only 50. you probably have another quarter century to make up for the waste that was the last one.

You have a picture of your parents on your mantle place. You turn it around before you take a box cutter to the pristine white carpet in your living room. the exertion is unfamiliar, the ripping of thick woven mat against a slightly dull blade is satisfying. There's a sense of finality to the sound, like a last breath after a roaring growl.

You spend hours drawing the circle and reading and rereading the translation notes stuck between the pages. but soon it's done. Soon the final step is upon you. You breathe deep and drag a new razor blade across your palm. The blood stains the wood subflooring. the circle begins to glow until a fine fog fills it. You feel a hand against yours, fingers with long manicured nails brush over the slash in your palm, before gripping it as though to shake it in greeting. You pull and he's there. Still ephemeral, but physical enough for you to see his blurred outlines. You weren't strong enough to force him to come to you fully, he's just lending you his attention.

You tell him your woe, and beg he show you a path to the happy life you dream of. the one of breakfast shared with a lover who wore your shirts in the quiet hours of morning. the one where you weren't afraid you'd die alone.

The demon doesn't laugh, but you still feel his amusement. He takes pity and leans to press his forehead against yours. Sharing with you a vision of that life you want more than anything.

It can be yours. You're not too broken to have this joy. You see your bride for the first time, you want to sob. There was woman who could love you and who you could love in return! She was stood on a balcony, leaning over to rest her elbows on the railing as she watched the city far below. She wore a cocktail dress, you vaguely recognize the view as belonging to your coworker. She looked so perfect. Her dark hair glowing at the edges with the light of the city. You feel so much warmth for her as you come to stand at her side. She leans her head against your shoulder before breaking out into a laugh. Covering her mouth to stop the sound. she bows her head before turning to face you. her face alight like she knew something you didn't. She looks familiar. You've already met her.

the vision fades and the demon isn't amused anymore. His hand leaves yours, he doesn't vanish back to wherever you pulled him from. instead he sits there, you can barely make out his face but he looks so familiar. His hair is a dark cloud around his narrow features. He's more solid now. His face is so familiar. You had already met her.

You stare. He stares back.

You're broken. You feel vile for desires you can not control. You were never meant for that white picket fence life.

You want that life, you want that bride- groom, standing on the balcony. He can give you it. He is it.

A demon smiles at you, and asks if you want to make a proper deal.

[tetsunabouquet]

Basic Instinct Part 8

A/N: Any of the previous warnings might apply in small mentions, but we're getting to the fluff part of the story, thank heavens.  Masterpost

You words of earlier that day continued to haunt him. 'I sacrificed everything, my childhood and happiness.' Those words felt awfully familiar, and he couldn't help but once more feel like the two of you were kindred spirits. Tomorrow definitely was needed, for the sake of the both of you. Because the two of you seemed to need each other just as desperately. 'She needs someone, like I need her.' So all that truly mattered, was you and his confession. Unfortunately, planning his confession was more difficult then he initially assumed. He wanted to do something to impress you, but if your Shogi muffins taught him anything; it's that something from the heart could be a bigger gesture then expensive gifts, or hiring performers to woo you over with a grand gesture. But what was something what your heart desired, something that he could plan his confession around? For one, something too similar to your idea wouldn't do. He didn't wanted to be lazy and copy your idea, so baked goods were out of the question. Then, he remembered the oldest trick in the book, something timeless that a reader like you would enjoy. A love poem, something he, with the help of Fujioka, could plant along the route he wanted to take you during your shopping trip. Words straight from his heart. His poems either ended up being too formal or too cheesy to his own personal taste, not finding a nice balance in between so he allowed Fuijioka to pick whichever he found the best. Akashi had a slight feeling his butler was enjoying his frustration to a certain degree, in a fond kind of way. It made him smile. As he and Fujioka decided on a way to use the poem, and where, his heart was pounding.

Though that was in no way comparable to when he saw you walk out of the street to one of his father's many cars. Dressed in a long black coat of faux-fur, he could spot you wearing pants in your f/c. He opened the door for you, and let you take a seat next to him. You closed the door with a slightly uncertain look on your face. "How bad was she?" He asked. "She's currently on silent treatment mode." You sighed deeply, and he laid his hand on your shoulder. "She'll be back to her good mood soon enough. Focus on yourself for now. Relax, y/n." You smiled dryly, trying to snap out of your sad state. It tore at his heart, he has never seen you look so tired and vulnerable. So he reached out to his bag. "Have you had breakfast yet? My cook made some croissants." He pulled out a bento box, and opened it to reveal two small croissants with a delicious looking chocolate coating. You accepted them gratefully, and took a bite. It was so good, you were unable to surpress a small moan. He did not want to think about the sound too much, but he wondered, if you'd sound like that if he got to kiss you. You hungrily devoured them, and seemed to relax a bit with the delicious food. You smiled softly, a bit more warmness in your face, much to his relief. "Well, I have made a bit of a schedule for us. I hope you don't mind," Akashi's voice was gentle and you shook your head. "Good. I remember you mentioning you wanted some new markers. We'll visit an art supplies store first, if you'd like that?" "Oh yes! Me and Mari-Chan are doing the new art designs for the school's newspaper but neither of us have great materials for it. I'm buying the markers, she buys the rest. That was our agreement." You said, your mood getting a bit more cheerful at the thought. "You're always eager to lend a hand in school projects. Why did you never tried to join the Student Council?"  Akashi asked, curiously. "I tried to join the one in Middle School, but I always lost the voting. The most popular kids got elected, and the one time where I did had enough votes to join, my position was still given to someone else because he was the best friend of our Vice President and teachers thought they'd have an easier time working together. In the end, even classroom politics revolve around nepotism and popularity, rather then who actually has the best ideas for the school. So why apply for something so meaningless?" "That's unfortunate. That position was rightfully yours, it shouldn't have been given to someone else." You smiled at his words, happy someone was siding with you. The fact he actually was the Student Council President somehow made it feel even better. He was acknowledging your hard work for the school, something no one else ever did except Amari. It made you feel slightly fuzzy on the inside. So you already felt a bit better by the time the car halted. You stepped out slowly, Akashi behind you. You gawked when you saw you were at the front of not just a regulart art supplies store, but the most expensive, top-notch art store in Kyoto, where all the local, high-profile artists shopped. Akashi couldn't help but smile at your expression. "After the way your mother treated you, you certainly deserve the best markers we can find." He said, slowly escorting you inside. Unable to speak, you just stared at all the expensive art supplies you could lay your eyes on. A wall filled with Caran d'Ache products at the entrance of the store greeting you with their bright pigments, another one with various types, and brands, of ink. It was definitely worthy of its reputation. It didn't took long to find a wall with markers of brands used by illustrators, which was a whole lot different then your old set of markers-  A 12 piece Stabilo scented set which left you obsessed with your lemon-yellow marker (which was obviously the first one to be used up). It made you feel a little flustered, as Akashi went over each one. They were so expensive and looked great. Was this really okay? Akashi then held up a set of 36 markers. "I think this one looks nice. What do you think?" He examined the look on your face, the hesitation. It was clear you didn't wanted to be seen as a financial burden as your line of sight kept hovering over the prices, which he found utterly ridiculous. "That one looks nice, and there's definitely enough color variation. You sure you want to pay, I brought my wallet, you know?" You said, even though you couldn't really afford it with your own pocket money. Akashi scoffed. 'I'd buy her an island if she'd be safe and happy there.'  He thought as he opened his mouth to speak, "I said it's on me. Allow me to use my money to make it actually mean something." He insisted, and you were touched. Without a word of further stubborness, you followed him to the cash register and allowed him to pay for your markers, a small smile playing on your trembling lips. 'He's so kind.' You thought as he accepted the bag which contained your new markers and hoisted it over his shoulder. 'Wait, he's going to carry it too?! He's really a gentleman, isn't he?' As you exited the store, you wondered what you were going to do next, and Akashi guided you forward. "Our next stop would be my personal favorite sports shop. I noticed the shoes you wear during P.E are getting rather old, I want to buy you a new pair." He said, and you were once again shaken by just how much he seemed to notice. "Really? But you already bought me all those wonderful markers." You said, smiling shyly. "Really. I want you to have everything you need." "You're really too kind Seijuro," you gave him a quick hug, and he was certain his heart skipped a beat. Your arms were so soft, he missed them around his figure the moment they left. As the two of you went to the sport shop, Akashi swore he could die from the anxiety, and the strength it required to keep it hidden. Every step closer to the store made him feel like he wanted to run away and abort this entire plan. But you marched on at his side, and thus, he couldn't. Though he certainly felt like he could faint as the store appeared, and felt more tense as the two of you walked inside. It didn't take you long to find a pair of shoes to your liking, size and the school's dress code. Akashi held his breathe as one of the store clerks escorted you to a changing cubicle he had them reserve especially for you. You found it slightly funny he had reserved one for you, but you figured he might have been preparing himself for if you spotted sports wear to your liking. What you didn't expect, when you entered the cubicle, was for there to be a white sheet hung up, with big letters in a handwriting familiar to you and an adorable panda plushy seated on the chair in the changing room underneath the poster.

Most start with roses are red, violets are blue But I'd rather like to think your pressence set my world anew

Dancing sunlight blinded my vision Could there be such a thing as gentle passion? I felt hot yet serene Like the reflection of water capturing light made with kerosene Your voice sings at the back of my mind Gentle warnings and whispers, so kind I don't wish for this feeling to end. Will you be my girlfriend?

[misssophiachase]

hii, how are u? I love your jiara fanfics, i was think if you can maybe write a jiara story based in "Friends” by Chase Atlantic

Hello!!! Thank you so much, nonnie. You are too kind : ) Great song choice and as an Australian (like the band) I approve. As usual, it got longer than expected but hope you like what I did with the song. It's on AO3 HERE

Tell Me We Weren’t Just Friends

Kiara Carrera is Prima Ballerina for the New York City Ballet and JJ Maybank is the World Middleweight Boxing Champion. From the outside, they seem to have nothing in common but they share a past not many know about.

“And what the hell were we? Tell me weren’t just friends.”

Lincoln Centre, New York City 

Applause is nothing new to her, so much so that it barely registers. There’s a sea of people upstanding and flowers falling on the stage in a myriad of colours and blooms as she takes her final bow. The curtain closes and the cast scatters, their excited chatter intermingling with that of the audience.

As soon as she’s backstage and the performance is all but forgotten, Kiara is on autopilot thanking her many well-wishers,  autographing programs, and posing for their photos. This isn’t her first opening night and it won’t be her last so she knows exactly how to act given what’s expected of New York Ballet’s star Principal Dancer. 

“OMG, Kie! There’s the hottest guy in your dressing room.” She squeals, her large framed glasses almost falling off her face from the excitement. 

She hands her bouquet of long-stemmed, red roses to her overly enthusiastic assistant Louise, or Wheezie to her friends, hoping to distract her from sharing any more details in public.   

Now this she isn’t expecting nor is the crowd of people who’ve just overheard her exuberant assistant talking about a strange man in her dressing room. She politely grasps her arm and pulls her away. The last thing Kiara needs is for Page Six to report that she has a mystery man. 

“Wheezie,” she hisses, trying to keep her voice down. “Maybe try to be more discreet next time. Also, since when are we letting no named men into my dressing room without vetting them or their intentions first?”

“He’s hot, sorry I think I was flustered or distracted or both.”

“So you’ve said,” she reiterates, catching a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of her eye. Of course, it’s him muscling his way backstage and jumping the queue.  

“But I don’t think I know anyone hot,” she says, loud enough for the guy in question to hear as she rounds the corner. Serves him right for gatecrashing her opening night. 

“Ouch,” he whistles, leaning lazily against her dressing room doorway. “That hurt, Kiki.”

“It didn’t, you big baby,” she grins, pulling him in for an impromptu hug.  Given he makes his living from boxing she doesn’t buy that for a minute. “And what have I told you about calling me that?”

She pulls away from him, reluctantly. Once she feels him for the first time in a while it’s always hard to let go. 

He feels good. Too good. 

It feels right. Too right. 

“You called me ugly so it serves you right.” 

Kiara feels like they’ve picked up right where they left off in London fifteen months earlier, or was it six months ago in Prague? Whenever it was, nothing ever seems to change between them. 

“Do you want me to call security?” Wheezie asks, her brown eyes bouncing back and forth as they argue like she’s watching a tennis match. 

“Not yet,” Kiara teases. “Can you check my car is booked for the morning, cancel my 11am appointment and confirm lunch with Jake at Pastis at 1pm. Thanks, Wheezie.” 

She shuts the door behind her leaving them alone. From past experience that’s not entirely safe given their tendency to lose all sense of decorum and control. 

“I got you these.” He produces a bunch of flowers from behind his back. “Had I known about the floral tribute in your dressing room I might not have bothered.” He gestures to the exorbitant amount of blooms on her dressing table and surrounds. 

It’s not unusual to have that many flowers for opening night but Kiara barely gives them a second glance, her attention soley focused on the ones in his outstretched arms. 

“My favourite,” she murmurs, taking the pink peonies in his grasp and grazing his calloused fingers in the process. She shivers, remembering just how soothing they are.

He’s changed since they saw each other last. The customary dark jeans and leather jacket coupled with his brooding demeanour are the same. His blue eyes are intense, his messy, blonde locks slightly subdued tonight but still curling over his ears teasingly.

It’s his expression that’s different, mature and hardened, the scars she used to trace with her fingers more pronounced with time.

“By the way, who is this Jake and do I need to kill him?” He asks, making himself comfortable on her dressing room couch.

Of course he doesn’t let that go unnoticed. They’ve definitely picked up right where they left things. 

“It’s just lunch, calm down, Rocky,” she jokes, knowing how much he hates her calling him that. “So, you come to my neighbourhood and I don’t even get a call?” 

“You can talk. Anyway, I thought it would be more fun if I surprised you like one of those secret reviewers sitting in the audience all the while critiquing your performance.”

“So, what did you think?” She asks, holding her breath and not even realising she’s doing it. When it comes to what people think there’s only one person that matters. She busies herself on purpose, stepping behind the dressing screen to change out of her costume. 

“I give Giselle a very solid nine point nine nine out of ten,” he offers, thoughtfully. “Points off because there was no dancing mouse.”

“Who needs the New York Times review tomorrow morning when I have that?” She laughs. “You know, I can’t dance the Nutcracker all year round.”

“If I had my way it’d be Christmas all year round then.”

“Oh okay, who are you and what have you done with the real JJ Maybank? You know, blonde and broody.” 

“It must be seeing you again, Kie.” 

She can’t miss the wistfulness in his tone almost like he’s thinking back to another time. Another place. Another them. 

“Liar,” she shoots back from across the screen, attempting to break the tension. “But I’m impressed how well your ballet knowledge is coming along. What would your boxing friends think?”

She can’t see him but the ensuing silence is overwhelming.  It’s a reminder of the past neither can seem to escape.  

Kiara grabs the floral robe from the nearby hanger, wrapping it around her naked body. She pulls her hair free from the tight bun, her chestnut waves falling loose around her shoulders. 

As she steps out from the screen he’s watching her intently. Gone is the pretence, the need for small talk.

They hold a conversation with their eyes - your place or mine?

Given the hunger in his, the way she licks her lips, his need to devour her, and her need to let him means it doesn’t matter.

As long as it’s soon.

She’s pinned beneath him, naked and ready, their clothes scattered around the room long forgotten. Foreplay is only an easy warm-up for two such elite athletes, it isn’t unusual for them to play through the night until dawn.

Until every last shred of pleasure is exhausted until every last ragged breath is taken.

This is how things always are between them.

No talking, no feeling.

Just being.

It’s only as the sun is rising in brilliant streaks of pink and orange through the crack in the blinds as they lay in bed, limbs intertwined while wrapped in the crisp, white, hotel sheets she hears it.

It’s hushed and low, a growl that reverberates in her ear as he runs his fingers through her hair.

“Tell me we weren’t just friends.”

Kildare Boxing Gym, The Outer Banks (7 years ago)

“You’ve got absolutely no shot with her,” John B laughed, landing a punch on his chest. 

They were sparring in the boxing ring and as usual he was talking absolute shit. Being the far superior boxer, JJ knew he was just trying to get to him so he could score at least one win. JJ unleashed a surprise uppercut and sent John B stumbling into the corner of the ring. 

“What was that you were saying, Bree?” 

“Maybe you can kick my ass but there is no way Kiara Carrera would ever look twice at someone like you. She’s more ballet recitals and country clubs and you’re…well you.”

JJ knew full well he wasn’t her type, hell he probably wasn’t anyone’s type. He lived in a run down excuse for a house, ditched school, and spent more time boxing at this old gym than anything else. At first, it was just to get away from his dad after one of his abusive, drunken spells but it soon became not only a way to distract himself but to learn how to fight back. 

The local ballet school was only a few doors up from the gym on Main Street and that’s where he’d seen her for the very first time. Beautiful, poised and determined, as he’d find out later when she turned him down for a date or three. She was always surrounded by her ballet friends and given the way they looked at him, JJ knew what they thought. He wasn’t and never would be good enough for their friend.  

“I know you’re upset I beat you again but no need to be bitter,” he joked, giving him one last push before taking off his gloves. “And please take a shower for all our sakes.”

He could still hear John B’s wheezing laughter as he left the gym, his bag slung over his shoulder. He knew his dad would be passed out this time of the morning so he could take a shower then decide whether he was going to school today or not. 

There was an old foot bridge on the way to his house. JJ used it because it was a quick shortcut and usually empty because it was barely used. Until today. 

Kiara was sitting on the bridge, her long legs hanging over. She wore a pair of ripped cutoffs and a simple white t-shirt with her long hair piled onto her head in a messy bun.  She was holding onto what looked like long pink ribbons from her ballet shoes and dangling them over the water precariously. 

“Don’t do it,” he joked. “They’ve got too much to live for.”

She looked over, clearly not expecting to find him of all people there. JJ could tell she’d been crying from the redness around her eyes, although to him she still looked beautiful. He was half expecting her to run away given the number of times she’d turned him down for a date but she just turned back and fixed her gaze on her pointe shoes.

“I don’t really care if they drown right about now,” she murmured. 

“Then what would you use to dance?” He asked, sitting next to her. 

“I’ve decided I don’t really have what it takes to dance.”

“You’ve decided?”

“Well, my dance teacher yelled at me in front of the class for having poor posture and lack of core strength. And it’s not the first time either, it’s becoming the norm lately. Then of course I had to go and fall on my butt after attempting a Fouetté today just to prove her right. My mother is going to have a field day with this, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“I hate it when I fall after doing a froufrou,” he said, hoping to cheer her up. JJ didn’t like seeing her sad.  Then she laughed and it sounded so melodic and carefree. Nothing like the uptight front he’d witnessed before.  JJ didn’t realise how much he needed to hear that. 

“But I do know a bit about core strength.”

“Oh really?” 

“If you don’t have core strength you can’t do a lot of things well, including box,” he explained.  “Seems like boxing and ballet might have something in common after all. Maybe I could help you with some strength training drills.” 

“If that’s a line...”

“I think after being rejected three times already I’ve learned my lesson.”

“It’s not you,” she murmured. “Although, you chose a bad time to ask me out. My friends can be...”

“Scary,” he interrupted. He wanted to say snobs but thought better of it. 

“And rude,” she agreed. “And my mother doesn’t let me date because I have to focus on my ballet and my father doesn’t let me date because he doesn’t like teenage boys or their untoward intentions much. So, you see my dilemma.” 

“Sounds hectic.”

“You have no idea.” 

“But if I’m helping with your ballet it has to be a good thing,” he offered. “And, of course, no one needs to know. It could be our little secret.” 

JJ didn’t want that, not one bit. But if being near Kiara Carrera meant secrecy he’d take what he could get. 

“Well, if you’re going to help me out,” she began. “Maybe I can teach you something too?”

“I don’t think wearing a tutu is going to help my performance in the ring much,” he joked. 

“Joke all you like but did you know that Mohammed Ali and Sugar Ray Robinson reportedly took dancing classes?”

“Now you’re just messing with me, Carrera.”

“Ballet can help with flexibility, being lighter on your feet and it has proven to improve footwork.”

“Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee,” he said, quoting Mohammed Ali. “Now, it’s all starting to make sense.”

“We’ll make a butterfly of you yet, Maybank.” 

“So, let me get this straight, you’re going to teach me to dance?” JJ was so glad John B wasn’t around to hear this particular conversation. 

“Not exactly but if we’re going to do this then it’s all or nothing.” 

JJ wasn’t stupid, of course he was going to do, I mean anything to be closer to Kiara but he never imagined just how much he’d get out of it. 

They trained together whenever they could get away from their ‘real’ lives. It was a small town so finding somewhere to train had been difficult until JJ stumbled upon an old abandoned warehouse near the highway.

He brought his punching bag, gloves and pads and Kiara turned a wooden beam in the warehouse into a makeshift barre.  They were both driven in their chosen fields and trained hard but found some off-time to talk about their lives and what they wanted them to look like one day.  Her dancing the Nutcracker at Lincoln Centre and him becoming US Boxing Champion. 

Then one day Kiara auditioned and was accepted into the American Ballet Academy in New York. JJ was happy for her, he still remembered just how excited she was when she told him. He’d never forget the hug they shared, long, tight and full of emotion. When they finally separated he didn’t want to let go and something in her eyes told him she felt the same way. 

Was it gratitude, was it love or was it something else? They were friends but were they really just friends? He wanted to ask but it was too late and she was gone. 

Staples Centre, Los Angeles (2 years ago)

Kiara knew this was why she never went to boxing matches. It was bad enough watching a real fight let alone a fake one for entertainment. All she could hear was the thousands of fans, mainly angry men, shouting for their chosen fighter. 

Kiara would only do this for one person and he was standing in the ring. Even with the padding and headgear she could still see that unruly, blonde hair peeking out. But it was his body she couldn’t stop looking at. He was always toned but he’d put on a significant amount of muscle and you couldn’t miss just how good it looked on him.

The crowd was on their feet now, JJ ducking and weaving at first but finding his balance and counter punching. She was both nervous and excited, especially seeing his quick footwork thanks, surely in part, to their training.

He won in twelve gruelling rounds, and although she kept her hands over her face for the majority of the match, she was so happy when they lifted his arm up in victory. JJ Maybank was now the US Boxing Middleweight Champion.  

During the ceremony and presentation of his belt, JJ seemed exhausted but equally elated. She couldn’t help but think back to the days when they’d talk about their futures and now JJ was living his. 

She watched him proudly show his belt to the crowd and then it happened. He saw her. His blue eyes locked onto hers, a surprised grin tugging at the edges of his mouth. It was if no time had passed at all between them. Then the moment was over as he left the ring. It was probably only one second but it felt like much longer. 

15 minutes later

“So, did you summon me here to share some of your prize money?” She asked, walking into the large but empty locker room. 

Kiara had intended to go to his match but that was it. They hadn’t seen each other in five years and she wasn’t even sure what he’d think. All Kiara knew was that she wanted to be there when his future dreams became a reality because he’d helped and been there for her all those years ago in the Outer Banks. 

Also, she hadn’t stopped thinking about him so there was that too. 

As she went to leave her seat a tall, burly looking security guard stopped her and said that Mr Maybank had requested her presence. He looked too imposing to say no and, at the same time, her curiosity was piqued. 

What she wasn’t expecting was to see him very shirtless, at least his back was to her so Kiara had some time to compose herself. 

“Would you settle for a beer?” He asked, turning around and sending her his cutest crooked smile. Kiara was immediately transported back to another time. 

“I hope the girls you take out know what a cheap date you are, Maybank.”

“I’d have to go out on a date for that to happen,” he teased, his signature left dimple making an unexpected appearance. 

“Oh, so you weren’t dating Madison Bailey?”

“First, you show up to my fight and now you’re checking up on my love life?” He asked, cocking his left eyebrow curiously. 

“Seeing as you had your guard escort me backstage I don’t think you’re complaining,” she replied. 

“Not one little bit,” he agreed. “And to answer your question, she’s cute and we had some fun but I’m too busy with my fight schedule to actually date. How about you and that idiot actor Rudy Pankow?”

“Now, who’s checking up on whom?” 

“I might have seen some photos.”

“I never took you as the kind to read Page Six. To answer your question, it was very brief, you’re not the only one with a busy work schedule.”

“You killed it, the Nutcracker I mean,” he offered. 

“You saw me?” 

She inhaled sharply not expecting him to be there for her special moment a year earlier just as she was there for him tonight. 

“I did,” he nodded. “I even left you a little bunch of flowers.”

“You left the peonies?” 

She’d received a dressing room of flowers that opening night but it was the small but beautiful bunch of pink peonies that had caught her eye. They were also the only bouquet with no name on the card. All it said was “You did it.” 

“You did it,” he said, confirming what was in his note. 

“We both did,” she murmured. “I can’t believe I watched that macho display of violence before but I couldn’t not come.”

“Now, that sounds like a familiar experience,” he teased. “Minus the macho displays and more tutus. I did enjoy the toy soldiers though.”

“Of course you did,” she laughed. “So, how about that beer you owe me?”

“Alright, alright, talk about rushing a guy.”

“You might want to change, we can’t have you going outside like that and whipping the girls into a frenzy.”

“Like what?” He asked. “Oh, you mean this?” He touched his chest for added effect. “Am I distracting you, Kiki?” 

“If you mean by calling me that then yes.”

“Are you sure I’m not whipping you into a frenzy too?” 

“You wish,” she lied, hoping it sounded like she meant it. 

JJ moved closer and it was no coincidence that she suddenly couldn’t think about what she was going to say, let alone how she was actually going to communicate it. 

He smelled like a mixture of soap and aftershave and there was something else Kiara couldn’t quite pick but it was like being back home in the warehouse where they’d practice for hours. It was every word they’d spoken, every laugh they’d shared and every feeling between them yet to be declared. 

Kiara could feel his gaze on her, almost like he was reading her mind. Could he feel it too?  She looked up scared for what might happen but also excited. 

“I’ve missed you, Kie.” His voice breaks slightly, his gaze unflinching. “More than you know.”

“I’ve missed you too, J.” 

“Maybe that beer can wait?” He murmured. His question was so hushed that she could barely hear him but she did. 

“I think you’re right.” 

MGM Grand, The Strip, Las Vegas NV (11 months later)

He’s sore. Who is JJ kidding? He’s in excruciating pain.

The ice bath had done nothing to soothe the aches in his muscles. He hobbles towards the lounge area of the suite, the white towel tied low on his hips, the bowl of ice chips firmly in his grasp.

As he settles on the couch, JJ groans. He’s pleased at least that he won the fight, otherwise the pain would be so much worse.

The Strip is luminescent from his vantage point near the window. Tonight, it belongs to him. JJ Maybank is King of this town. He won the World Championship title tonight, something he’s worked for years to achieve, and it feels so good.

Adrenaline is the reason why he fights. It’s addictive. It’s all-consuming. There’s no other feeling like it, except one.

Her.

The way she laughs. The way she smiles, The way she cares. The way she feels beneath him, as he moves inside her. 

She is his heaven.

After she appeared at his US Championship fight in Los Angeles two years earlier, JJ hoped she might surprise him again in Vegas.  But given his fight is done, JJ knows it’s more wishful thinking than anything else. 

JJ hears a knock at the door, breaking him from his thoughts. He yells out, telling room service to let themselves inside as he’s too incapacitated to move. It isn’t room service though.

She looks even more beautiful, if that’s possible.

It’s been eleven months since their last meeting in New York and he doesn’t realise until then just how much he’s been craving her. She’s breathtaking.

Her red dress is short and fitted, showcasing those world famous legs and enhancing her radiant skin. Her hair is hanging loose in waves around her face, exactly as JJ likes it.

He notices her eyes flicker lower, almost as if she’s willing his towel to open. His arousal is immediate, so too the smirk he can feel forming at her blatant and reciprocal need for him.

“You won.” It’s more a statement than a question. He nods.

He notices a flash of concern cross her face and before he knows it, she’s seated next to him. Her perfectly manicured hands find the bowl and she’s running the ice over the bruise on his left cheek bone.

He winces, it’s cold and sudden, although her touch is warm and gentle.

“Hold still, you big baby.” She grins at him now, her eyes lighting up mischievously. It’s not the first time she’s called him that and JJ knows it won’t be the last. 

“You didn’t want to watch an overly macho display of violence?” He asks, using her words. 

He wants to know everything. Why she wasn’t at the fight, why she’s here now, what she wants, what she feels. But he’s holding back, something he seems to do every time they’re together. 

“I couldn’t watch,” she shares. “I can’t stand to see you hurt, it’s too hard…” 

She’s struggling to find her words and he desperately wants to help her. So he asks what he’s been too afraid to ask. 

“What do you want, Kie?” She pauses, her hand coming to a stop, her face now downcast almost like she’s trying to compose her thoughts.

“I didn’t respond to your question in New York and that wasn’t fair.”

Her eyes flicker back to his, he can tell she’s nervous by the way she bites her lower lip. JJ doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so adorable.

“Maybe it wasn’t fair of me to ask?” He manages to bite out but regrets it as soon as it’s said. JJ oozes smug arrogance to most but with Kiara he’s filled with deep, paralysing uncertainty and doubt.

She takes his hands in hers, squeezing them affectionately. JJ can barely breathe nor contain his reaction at her small but incredibly meaningful gesture.

“We weren’t just friends.” He releases the breath he was holding. She’s said everything he’d ever wanted. Well, maybe not everything. 

“You love me?”

“I love you, JJ Maybank,” she smiles, her eyes filling with unshed tears. JJ does the same because he feels the same way. “I’ve loved you ever since you asked me on a date and I was too stupid to say yes.”

“There was always something in the way.”

“My friends, your friends, our differences, my parents, my career, my…”

“Stubborness?” 

“Here I am spilling my heart out to you and you’re teasing me, Maybank,” she huffs. “I know I took my sweet time but there’s no need to punish me for it.”

“I love you too, Kiara Carrera.” JJ pulls her closer, his nose grazing hers affectionately. “And as soon as I can move without crying out in pain, I’m going to show you just how much. That’s a promise.” 

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” she murmurs, leaning in for a kiss.