#my mom would always go along as parental guide

[devotedlystrangewizard]

its so sad to grow up and realize you didnt get the affection you needed from your parents when you were a kid. its even worse when youre aware you will never get it and should find support elsewhere but deep down it still hurts every time youre reminded of how you still wont get it

[thriftedtchotchkes]

switching the positions

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: a collection of micro-fics chronicling the days of a very eventful week in the lives of you and joel miller (inspired by ariana grande's positions)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-outbreak, established relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, unprotected piv, rough sex, oral (f&m receiving), 69ing, mutual/guided masturbation, edging, mild exhibitionism, consensual somnophilia, squirting, rimming, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy kink, pregnant sex, panic attacks, mentions of parents, mentions of food

word count: 16.2k

moodboard by my sweet girl @cavillscurls ♡

a/n: whew, my pride and joy, a whole two months in the making. tysm to everyone who voted on the poll, and especially to @dinsdjrn for helping me tie this whole thing together and mya for listening to me yell about this for weeks. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!

SUNDAY

"Boy, I'm tryna meet your mama on a Sunday."

“She’s gonna hate me.”

“She’s not gonna hate you.”

Oh, you know this woman is going to hate you. It’s not that parents don’t like you. On the contrary, you actually get along great with people’s parents. Your friends’, your old roommate’s, your coworkers'—hell, even your own. It’s just that moms, specifically, can smell fear, and Joel’s mom is going to smell the terror wafting off of you from a mile away. 

Not that it’s personal or anything. You’re pretty sure she’d hate anyone dating her baby boy. It’s like, a boy-mom thing. Still doesn’t make you feel any better about your boyfriend’s mom potentially hating you.

“Whose idea was this dinner again?” Because if it was Joel’s, then he can still reschedule or fake an illness or, better yet, call the whole thing off.

“Baby, you know it was hers,” he replies from his spot at the edge of the bed, where he’s been watching you pace the room and throw half the closet on the floor for the past hour. You shoot him an exasperated look.

“But did you have to say yes? Isn’t it kind of early for me to be meeting your mom anyway?” 

He looks at you like you have ten heads, but you ignore him, debating two shirts in the mirror, then deciding they’re both terrible and adding them to the pile on the floor.

“It’s been a year and a half. If we wait any longer, she’ll be meetin’ you at the weddin’,” he sighs, running his hands frustratedly down his face. You pause your closet tornado to stare at him, wide-eyed, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m just sayin’, I think it’d be good for y’all to meet, is all.”

Good for who? Certainly not you. Honestly, this dinner could have serious repercussions for your relationship. It’s entirely possible she could convince him to break up with you after the night’s over. Or that you’re a bad role model and shouldn’t be allowed around Sarah anymore. Your stomach lurches violently at the thought. Then, it hits you—

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair enough—but have we thought about who’s gonna watch Sarah tonight? We can’t just leave her by herself, and I’m sure your mom would totally understand that,” you try to reason but, again, Joel’s not going for it. 

“She’s 14 years old, I think she can handle a couple hours alone,” he deadpans. “Baby, c’mon, it’s not gonna be that bad. Please? Is it really too much to ask for the woman I love to meet my momma?” 

You soften at that. Logically, you know he’s right and it’s not fair for you to keep giving him such a hard time. You’re also pre-judging someone really special to him, and now you feel like the shittiest girlfriend in the world.

“You’re right. I know you’re right—I’m sorry,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. You’re not sure why you’re feeling so insecure about all this. “I just want her to like me, you know?”

He nods, lips quirking into a small smile, and pats his lap. You fall into his arms and he rocks you for a moment, kissing your hair, then your cheek. The anxiety’s starting to subside and you’re grateful for him, your sweet boyfriend who never asks you for anything. Your eyes meet his, and he leans in to kiss you softly, deeply, then pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“I know ya do,” he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles into your thigh. “And she will, alright? Just give her a chance like she’s givin’ you one.” 

So, for Joel, you do. Turns out his mom is lovely and wonderful, just like her son, and now you have a lot to make up for.

MONDAY

"Then make a lotta love on a Monday."

It’s early and yet, somehow, you’re already awake and feeling like it’s going to be a good day. There’s no alarm clocks blaring, no feet stomping up and down the stairs. Just sweet, blissful sunlight, and it feels so good this morning. Warm and wet and, god, right there—please, keep going right there.

You reach out to feel its light against your hands and between your fingers, and it hums, sending sweet vibrations up your arms, all the way down to your thighs. Heat starts to bloom in your belly as the sun rises higher, burning hotter and hotter, and your fingers tense, tugging at its soft rays. 

Everything feels so much wetter now, and there’s no way you’re not sweating right through your shirt and into the sheets. Even your underwear is soaked, your cunt pleasurably slick and dripping as you pant softly into your pillow.

Then, all of it suddenly intensifies and you’re enveloped by a wet, dextrous warmth that circles and circles, dipping into you, fucking into you, and suddenly, you’re so, so close—

And then you’re cumming with a loud sob, hips bucking with every spasm until something broad and strong splays across your stomach and pushes you back down into the sheets. 

It's…you realize it’s Joel. Balmy and beautiful like the morning sun. He groans as you gush into his mouth, lapping up everything you give him, and you’re vaguely aware of the bed shifting under you as he grinds his hips into the mattress for relief. 

“…B-baby? What—what’s going on…,” you slur sleepily, hands tugging harder at his hair as he continues to suckle your clit through the aftershocks. You whine at the oversensitivity, and he pulls off to press one last kiss to your heat before throwing the sheets off behind his head.

His eyes meet yours and, fuck, he looks wrecked. His hair is in complete disarray and his eyes are a little wild…and then there’s the giant tent in his boxers and that delicious wet spot that makes your mouth water. He doesn’t respond—just crawls up your body to crash his lips against yours, licking into your mouth, and all you can taste is yourself when his tongue brushes against yours.

You moan into his mouth as he grinds into your sensitive core, then parts from your lips just long enough to pull your sweat-soaked shirt up and over your head. The cool morning air feels like heaven against your feverish skin and, with the sheets gone, you can feel a cool breeze coming through the open window, amplified by the oscillating fan next to the bed.

Christ, he must be so pent up by now. Your brain is finally starting to clear from its post-sleep fog, and now you’re wondering how long he’s been between your legs, eating you out like you’re the heartiest breakfast he’s ever had in his life. 

But that train of thought is quickly derailed when his lips find a new home around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and circling his tongue around the nub until it hardens. The delicate skin feels especially tender, and you whimper quietly as the roughness of his beard scrapes against you. Your fingers thread back into his hair and you tug, urging him back up so you can feel his mouth on yours again. 

“Joel, fuck me,” you murmur against his lips, and his breath hitches. “Wanna feel you—please.” 

The sensitivity must’ve already subsided because your hips are steadily meeting his and you’re feeling so desperate to have him inside you. His cock feels heavy as he rubs himself against your slick cunt and, while the fabric provides the most incredible friction when it grazes your clit, you want him bare immediately. 

“Now…ngh—now,” you whine, and you’re stunned he still has the patience to tease when he pulls away slightly to smirk down at you.

“Needy girl this morning, ain’t ya?” His voice is thick with sleep and so much desire, and it makes your still locked-down pussy clench painfully. “S’alright, baby, ‘m gonna give it to ya.”

Wrenching his boxers down, he grips under your legs to push both of your knees to your chest before nudging the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. He inches in just the tip and immediately lets out a whoosh of air.

“So fuckin’ tight, Jesus Christ,” he grits through his teeth, working himself in and out of you until he’s buried to the hilt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against you just right. He lingers for a brief moment, grinding into you deeply, languidly while you adjust to his girth.

"S'good. Feels good," you murmur, sighing contently. He's brushing that spot he can only reach when he fucks you like this, so you lock your ankles behind his back, silently telling him to stay. But it feels a little selfish, and you can feel how much he's holding back.

"Baby...I gotta move," he pants, trembling with the effort it's taking not to lengthen his thrusts. Pulling out slowly, he presses back into you deep enough to nudge that spot again, and your vision goes hazy. "Promise, I'll take care of ya—"

You moan in unison as you flutter around him, and he takes that as the go-ahead to continue, his cock reappearing wetter and shinier after every stroke. His skin is glistening, too, slick with sweat that runs down his temples and pools where your bodies connect. 

The heat of him is addictive and it's everywhere—blooming in your chest, blazing between your legs, and igniting something fathomless inside you. But somehow, it's still not hot enough. You know he can give you more, your blindingly beautiful sun.

Wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders, you squeeze your thighs into his sides to pull him flush against your body, and you can feel his heartbeat pounding through his chest. The steady rhythm matches his thrusts perfectly, but he's groaning so sweetly in your ear that you have a feeling it won't for long.

You belatedly realize how hard you're clenching around him, suddenly so close to tumbling over the edge for the second time this morning, and he redoubles his efforts to follow you.

"L-like that, keep going just like that," you encourage between sharp exhales. "That—that's it."

He braces a hand next to your head on the pillow to stabilize himself, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist, grounding yourself to him. His eyes meet yours fondly before he buries his face into the crook of your neck to do the same, panting heavily against your skin.

Soft, brown curls tickle your cheek, and you turn your head to nose into his hair, breathing him in. He smells earthy like freshly-mown grass and sawdust, and it fills your lungs, surrounding you just when you need it the most. 

You gasp in his air, hips swiveling into his desperately as you chase your release. He's slamming directly into that spot now, pushing your knees back into your chest to reach even deeper, but his thighs are starting to tense.

"'m not gonna last long," he admits breathily, all but folding you in half so he can brush his lips against yours. "S'too good...gonna make me cum so hard."

"Please...please, please." Fuck, you want to feel it. To feel him pulsing inside you, filling you up so good, so much. "Joel, cum—please cum."

So close, you're so close. Your soft sighs have evolved into something louder and higher-pitched. Too loud for this early in the morning, and enough to wake up the entire house if you're not careful.

Joel seals his mouth over yours, swallowing every noise that escapes your lips as he pounds into you with purpose, dragging against your walls, and it's...fuck, you're—

Gushing, sobbing as you cum, and he groans, long and drawn out, immediately following you over the edge. Releasing your legs, he digs his fingers into your hips to hold you in place, keeping his cock buried deep inside you as you milk him dry.

"Fuck me," he exhales shakily, pumping into you twice before pulling out and collapsing on top of you. "Good fuckin' morning."

A breathy laugh bubbles out of your chest, but you immediately cringe at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you and onto the sheets. You wedge a hand between your bodies, reaching down to swipe your thumb between your folds and procure a glob that you suck wetly into your mouth. 

"Very good fuckin' morning," you smile cheekily at the look of awe on his face. He shakes his head, chuckling as he wraps you up in his arms and rolls you over onto your sides. His chest expands into you with a massive yawn, and you're helpless but to mirror him.

"How much time we got until the alarm?" he mutters sleepily, sounding like he could pass out at any moment. You're craning your head back to check when—

The damn thing starts blaring before you can even catch a glimpse of the time. Not that you need to now—it's 6 a.m., your mortal enemy. You glare at the clock like it personally offended you, and Joel only chuckles, pulling you back down with him.

"Snooze it," he murmurs, mouthing damply at your neck, his hands exploring your soft, bare skin. "We still got time."

You barely hear him, already lost in the feeling of his fingers skimming up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. He leans over you to hit the button himself before returning to you, kissing you like you've both got all the time in the world.

Neither of you makes it to work on time.

TUESDAY

"Cookin' in the kitchen, and I'm in the bedroom."

The oven is broken. Probably. The stove, too. It’s really not your fault—all you did was turn some knobs and stand there, but for some reason, none of the burners are catching and the oven sure isn’t cooking this chicken like it’s supposed to.

You don't even like chicken but, for some ungodly reason, you've had a wicked craving for it lately. And Joel loves it, so. That explains why you’re in the kitchen, getting side-eyed by a very skeptical 14 year old, trying to cook a nice dinner for her very overworked father. It’s not going well.

“Did you hear it click when you tried turning it on?” Sarah asks patiently, and now it’s your turn to look skeptical.

“Uhh, the knob or the stove?” You eye the appliance dubiously like it’s doing whatever it’s doing on purpose. She laughs pointing to one of the burners.

“So, when you twist the knob, gas comes out of here,” she taps the grating around the burner, “and the clicking creates a spark that ignites the gas so it lights. Then, voila, you’ve got a working stove.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly, looking back and forth between her and the stove until she finally gets the hint.

“Fine, fine. I can do it,” she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. And of course, the stupid thing works with zero issues when she does it. You give her a grateful smile before throwing the dirtiest glare you can muster at the oven.

“What do we do about that one? I guess I could try cooking the whole chicken in a big pan, but I can’t guarantee we won’t all die from food poisoning…,” you trail off, starting to feel a little useless. 

It’s not like you’re completely inept in the kitchen. You can use a toaster or a microwave like a damn pro, and even the blender if you’re feeling especially adventurous, but you’ve never made a big meal like this before. Sarah likes to cook when you’re not ordering out, which admittedly is most of the time, so this was supposed to be something special for her, too. 

“It’s the same general concept,” she says, still kind and patient as ever, squatting down to show you a different set of knobs. You observe her for a moment, missing the start of her explanation, because it’s times like these where you can see so much of Joel in her. 

It’s that spark in her eyes when she gets to share bits of her well-earned knowledge. To use her expertise to teach someone something brand new. Joel gets the same look when he’s trying to teach you guitar. His eyes shine when you finally get a chord down, and he downright beams when you can finish an entire bar by yourself. 

You must’ve zoned out for too long because she’s suddenly waving a hand in front of your face, smiling her dad’s sweet smile as she waits for your focus to return to the task at hand. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. What did I miss?” you ask sheepishly. She nods to the oven, already lit and heating up to the required 400 degrees Fahrenheit for cooking baked chicken.

“All good! It’s set for whenever you’ve got the food prepped. You just have to wait for it to hit temperature—it’ll beep when it’s ready,” she says, walking around the kitchen island to grab her backpack. 

…Wait. She’s leaving?

“Woah, wait, where are you going? You can’t leave yet,” you plead, still desperate for her help. “What if I burn the house down?”

“You’re not gonna burn down the house,” she snorts, already at the door tugging on her sneakers. “Just remember to turn off the burners and you’ll be fine. And save me some food!… Unless everyone gets sick, then maybe don’t.”

You shoot her a look of absolute betrayal, and she laughs, opening the front door and waving over her shoulder. 

“See ya later! Good luck, I believe in you!” 

And then she’s gone, and you’re left alone with your misery and a bunch of random ingredients you still have to magically make into a meal.

You slump against the counter, lamenting the loss of your sous chef until the oven beeps, scaring the shit out of you. Oh, great. You’ve barely even started seasoning the chicken. It can’t be that hard, right?

Twenty minutes later, you’re standing in front of a very peppery-looking raw chicken—which is officially disgusting again, you changed your mind—wishing you had just ordered Boston Market and lied about making it yourself. Lesson learned for next time. Like there’ll be a next time.

Well, at least no one can say you didn’t try. You throw a bunch of mixed vegetables into the bottom of the pan like the recipe says and pop it in the oven, setting the timer for 40 minutes and hoping for the best. 

Glancing at the clock above the sink, you realize you’re cutting it close on time. You told Joel to be home by eight, which means he’ll probably actually get here at nine, and it’s already 7:30. Yikes. Time flies when you’re trying not to fuck up a dinner that was doomed from the start.

The last piece of the puzzle is thankfully the easiest. Now, mashed potatoes are definitely something you can make. Boiling water? Piece of cake. Pouring in the instant flakes from the box and adding butter? Done and done.

There’s no way anyone’ll be able to tell you didn’t make them from scratch unless they check the trash and, anyways, the instant stuff is better. You’ll go down with that ship. 

Now for the pièce de résistance: the perfect evening attire. A cute, 50s-era apron you thrifted two weeks ago that’ll go over the teeny, tiny Victoria’s Secret lingerie set you’ve been hiding in the back of the closet.

Joel will probably think it’s hilarious, once he stops drooling. Hopefully you’ll even make it to dinner, otherwise, the stress of this entire afternoon was a totally moot point. But he’ll have to be a good boy and finish his food before he can have dessert—apple pie you definitely didn’t make, and you laid out on his bed like the best fucking treat he’ll ever taste.

You end up with enough time to take the chicken and veggies out of the oven—the meat thermometer tells you it’s cooked through and that’s good enough for you—and stir up the mashed potatoes before you have to head upstairs to get everything else ready. So far, surprisingly, so good. 

You’re in the middle of patting yourself on the back for a job well-done, with time to spare, when you hear the front door open. At eight fucking thirty. This would be the one day Joel gets home early and, by the sounds of dishware and cutlery clinking around downstairs, he’s already discovered your big surprise. 

“Baby, you up there?” he calls up the stairs. “What’s all this?”

Well. Guess it’s showtime. You finish tying the apron around your waist before giving yourself one last once over in the mirror. Everything fits perfectly, just like you knew it would, and the food’s done, for better or worse. So there’s no need to be nervous, right? It’s just Joel. Your Joel. He’d love it no matter what, even if it all ends up being total shit. 

Taking a steadying breath, you head down the stairs, letting your appearance serve as his answer. The apron rubs scratchily against your skin, a reminder of how naked you actually are underneath, and you let your confidence in Joel’s inevitably wanton reaction make you brave.

And he doesn’t disappoint. His eyes rove over you greedily, from the pout of your lips to the tiniest slip of your nipple peeking over your bra, all the way down to the soft, bare skin of your legs. Yeah, no need to be nervous at all.

“Just a little surprise I cooked up,” you smirk a little deviously as you reach the bottom of the stairs. He’s on you in a second, hands exploring your body eagerly, impatiently, as he leans in to kiss you, but he’s halted by a finger to his lips. “Uh-uh. Can’t have dessert yet. There’s a whole meal waiting for you—I made your favorite.”

He chuckles, gingerly pressing a kiss to your finger instead before leading you backward into the kitchen. 

“Well, let’s get started then. I’m starvin’,” he says, looking hungrier than you’ve ever seen him. You return his gaze, suddenly feeling ravenous yourself.

“Good. It’s dinner time.”

WEDNESDAY

"Wrist icicle, ride dick bicycle."

Spin class sucks.

There’s really no need for the music to be this loud. And it’s bad. They say it’s supposed to amp you up for rigorous exercise, but it’s just giving you a headache.

It’s also about a thousand degrees in here, and you’d be leaving a massive pool of sweat on this seat if you were even allowed to sit on it. The whole concept of spinning makes no sense, and you’re starting to think it’s actually just a dance class on stationary bikes because no one in their right mind would ever ride a bicycle like this. 

It’s embarrassing, for starters, and you’re surrounded by hot people that are way better at it than you are. You didn’t even know you could gyrate on a fucking bike until today, and they all somehow make it look sexy. Like they’re legitimately having a great time. Having fun. 

But not you. The music might honestly be doing you a favor by drowning out your pathetic attempts to breathe. You’re starting to get a little lightheaded and feel like you’re about to be sick.

No workout is worth this. You can’t even pretend to follow the instructor’s directions, because you can barely hear her over the speakers. She probably can't even hear herself, yelling into the void of shitty EDM remixes, and expecting everyone to pick it up. If you’d known this was just some fucked up version of leg day, you would’ve skipped it. 

There's no sneaking out early, either. You took the bus and Joel won’t be here to pick you up for at least another half hour. Honestly, you'd rather walk home and let that be your exercise for the day, but unless you plan on jogging along the highway, you're shit out of luck.

The beat abruptly picks back up, startling you out of your personal pity party, and then everyone's asses are in the air again, hips swiveling so perfectly in sync that it has to be choreographed. You're getting the hang of it now that you're realizing the routine just repeats itself, but it still feels mildly exploitative. 

It doesn't help that your class is starting to draw in a crowd, likely attracted by all of the revealing athletic wear on display. At least you got that memo. Whoever had the bright idea to put a huge glass wall at the back of the room was either a genius or a pervert. Probably both, depending on who you ask.

Once the hardest section of the choreography passes, you look behind you to check the time, praying more than you think has passed, but you're sorely disappointed. And the crowd outside's only gotten bigger.

Don't these assholes have anything better to do than stand there drooling over a spin class? You continue to glare at them over your shoulder through the next part of the song, looking a little ridiculous grinding into your seat as you silently tell them all off.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch one of them off to the side laughing, but when you turn to send an even harsher look in their direction, you realize you recognize him. 

What a dick. If you'd known he was going to be this early, you definitely would've snuck out and waited outside instead of becoming another piece of eye candy for a bunch of gym rats. 

Joel looks a little too pleased with himself, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed like he’s enjoying the view as much as the rest of those creeps. Well, if he wants a show, then you’ll give him one. Now that you’ve gotten the movements down, you can put all of your energy into making him wish there wasn’t an entire glass wall separating him from you. 

That one, grueling section of the song loops back around, and this time you put your all into it, arching like you’re supposed to, swiveling your hips into the seat with all of the muscle control you’ve got. Your shorts ride up your ass at the change in movement, probably giving you a wicked camel toe, but you let them. You can only imagine the look on Joel’s face now.

The song starts to wind down, finally coming to a stop, and you lower yourself back onto the seat, panting with the exertion of the past 45 minutes. Turning back around, you notice the crowd has mostly dispersed, save for a few stragglers and Joel, who’s panting almost as hard as you are. 

Your eyes drop to his pants, and you quirk an eyebrow. His breathing’s not the only thing that’s hard. He looks a little wrecked and, suddenly, this whole workout thing feels like it might’ve been worth it after all. 

You hop off the bike and retrieve your duffel from the back of the room, teasingly flicking the glass in front of his face before exiting with the rest of the class.

"Ready to go?" you ask brightly, still feeling high off the endorphin rush. He doesn't respond, looking a little dazed as he watches a droplet of sweat run down your neck, past your collarbone, and right between your breasts. "You doing alright there, bud?"

You laugh, enjoying your revenge a little too much, reveling in the way his jaw tenses and the muscles in his neck twitch angrily. It’s about to be a very interesting ride home—or it would’ve been if you’d made it that far. 

On the way out, you pass an out-of-order men’s room, and he yanks you inside, locking the door behind you.

It's a little surprising he's this pent up after the night you had, especially with the sheer amount of sex you’ve been having lately—not that you're complaining. But what's even more surprising is that he's choosing right now to rectify it, basically in public where anyone could overhear or walk in on you. It's...really out of character for him. You thought he'd at least make it to the car.

“Joel, what the—,” you yelp as he lifts you up by the waist to settle you on the edge of a sink. It's clear his patience has completely run out because, within seconds, he's dropping to his knees, burying his face in your heat. "—fuck."

Your legs immediately try to close around his head, but he forces them back open with enough strength to overextend your already abused hamstrings. It shouldn't feel as good as it does, but the pain, combined with his blunt nails biting into your thighs, sends delicious jolts right to your core. 

You exhale shakily, burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks a damp patch into your shorts, just slightly lower than where you need him. Your hips buck, urging him higher, but he doesn't allow that either, shoving them back down onto the hard porcelain beneath you.

Should've known it wouldn't be that easy. He's handling you aggressively, rougher than you would've expected, and that's when you realize he's mad.

"Bet ya thought that was real funny, teasin' me like that," he growls into your clothed pussy, licking up the seam to swirl wet circles where your clit throbs under too many layers. "Don't feel very nice, does it?"

His eyes meet yours as he sucks a little harder, and you whimper, tugging at his hair in a silent plea for him to take your shorts off and eat you out the way you both want him to. But he's going to drag this out and you know it. 

Joel loves a little payback and has the patience of a saint unless he's pushed past his limit. To your detriment, you shoved him over that line with the stunt you pulled earlier, so now you'll have to convince him it's in his best interest to let it go.

Switching tactics, you tempt him with what he could have if he just gave in. Your fingers dip beneath your waistband, and you sigh as you slick them up against your folds before dipping them inside. You're already soaked, and so tight, even around two of your own fingers, and you tell him as much.

"No, it doesn't feel nice...but I know something that will," you pump your fingers in and out of yourself, the muted sound of wet squelching reaching your ears. "Hear that?—," you gasp, hips lifting off the sink as you accidentally graze something spongey and sensitive, "—t-that's all for you."

And it works like a charm. Your shorts and underwear are pulled off in a single, hard tug, his tongue fucking into you before you can even fully inhale, and you choke out a strangled moan instead. He eats you out like a man starved, his nose nudging your clit with every dip of his tongue, and it feels so potent, you practically see stars. 

Your combined slick and his saliva are starting to leak over the edge of the sink but he catches every drop, and the way he slurps you up makes your cheeks burn. Joel's a lot of things when he's between your legs—enthusiastic, generous, and a little sloppy, but he's never wasteful. 

Two thick fingers prod at your entrance, and then he's pressing them into you, the slide snug, but easy with how wet you are for him. Finally, finally, you can feel your orgasm building, and you're sent reeling when his tongue fucks into you between his fingers, filling you up—it's...yes, right there—

But he abruptly pulls his mouth away, still not done making you pay.

"Damn right, it's all for me. Ya think those jackasses watching you weren't thinkin' about this?" he growls, his fingers slowing to leisurely stroke your walls as if they weren't about to throw you over the edge a moment ago. "Think they could make you feel this good? Make you cum like I do?"

Your pussy flutters pathetically around him, and the false look of sympathy he gives you makes you want to cry out of sheer frustration.

"Gonna need an answer if you want me to keep goin'," he drawls, still close enough that you can feel his breath, hot against your cunt.

You bite down on your bottom lip, just hard enough to momentarily distract yourself from the aching between your legs so you can respond, but you're taking too long. His fingers have all but stopped, so you panic.

"Fuck those assholes. Fuck all of them," you grit through your teeth. He quirks an eyebrow, marginally picking up the pace of his fingers.

"Fuck 'em, huh? That what you wanna do?" He's teasing you, and even though it's obvious, you fall right into his trap, anyway. Blanching, you shake your head furiously.

"N-no—no, no, no. Just you, only wanna fuck you," you gasp, frantically trying to convince him of something you both already know to be true without a shadow of a doubt. It's honestly impressive that he can work you like this and, even more so, that he's the only one that can.

"S'okay, I know...I know. This right here—," he gives your clit a few kitten licks, the pads of his fingertips rubbing that perfect spot inside you, "—s'mine." 

Then, he's burying his face back between your legs, redoubling his efforts, and it's so fucking sloppy. Wet and hot, and hungry, as if edging you has the same effect on him. 

You feel him groan into you as you start to tighten around his fingers, loud enough that his chest rumbles with it, sending sweet vibrations up your thighs. The sound of his belt jingling, then hitting the floor vaguely makes it past the blood rushing in your ears, but his broad shoulders and head bobbing between your legs are blocking your view.

All you can see or hear is the frantic movement of his arm, his hand working up and down his cock, and the sound of skin slapping on skin. Fuck, that's—so hot, you're so close. So fucking close—

But he's got one last edge left in him. 

You're throbbing so violently that for a second you're terrified he ruined your orgasm, but no, you're still teetering on the cusp, thighs quaking so hard, you can’t believe you haven’t crushed his head between them already. At this point, the smallest touch, even the tiniest puff of air would send you hurtling over.

He's still jerking himself off, sounding delirious as he separates his mouth from you to speak.

"Need to hear ya s-say it...," he pants, and you cry out, angrily reaching down to roughly shove his face back into you, but he resists. Spurred on by your reaction, he only fucks into his fist faster. “Nobody else gets to taste ya like I do…do they? Say it. Say it and I'll…ngh—let you cum,” he moans lowly, possessively. 

Joel sounds completely gone. You never could've imagined dry humping a fucking stationary bike would set him off like this, or that a bunch of dumb muscleheads would make him this jealous. He's so lost in it, in you. 

But the way he's looking up at you right now—it's like he really does need you to do this for him. To tell him that it’s just him, and it’ll only ever be him. It’s the truth. No one else has ever made you feel the way he does, with his mouth and hands, or his heart, and they never will again.

You whine, shaking your head pleadingly, ready to tell him whatever he wants to hear. Anything for him to put his mouth back on you again.

"T-they don't—no one else gets to, but you...only you," you keen as he seals his lips around your clit, all of his fears and insecurities finally soothed. Your head tips back, the feeling of his hot tongue laving over the sensitive bundle of nerves and his thick fingers—three of them, now—dragging against your walls exactly what you need. 

You cum frighteningly quickly, your orgasm so powerful and overwhelming that you start to black out. Your eyes squeeze shut, and then it’s all just pleasure—the tension in all of your limbs slowly bleeds out with every spasm of your cunt, and something wet…so wet, splashes against your inner thighs. 

Joel groans louder than you think you’ve ever heard him, the sound practically punched out of his chest as he licks broader lines up your pussy, sucking and slurping, and what…what is that? Why the fuck are you so wet? He—did Joel cum on you, and you didn’t even notice?

But that’s impossible because now his body’s completely seizing up, the hand around his cock stilling as he spurts thick ropes of cum across the bathroom floor. Or at least that’s the image your brain conjures up, unable to see it for yourself. 

Your vision’s only just beginning to return to you, and you immediately look down to see what actually happened...and fuck. It was you. Joel’s head is resting on your thigh, nuzzling into your soft, very damp skin, and he's looking up at you in awe.

“Shit, baby…,” he pants, chest heaving, cock still twitching in his hand. "Ain't ever seen you do that before."

You blink blearily, lips parting as you take him in. He's a goddamn mess. His face and beard are soaked, and his shirt is splattered with what you can only assume is your release. You fucking squirted? In a dirty gym bathroom?

"What the fuck?" you mumble, still dazed and a little in disbelief at how your first, and probably last, trip to the gym went. You shake your head, clearing up the brain fog enough to quickly process the past two hours, and now you're in shock. "Joel, what the fuck?" you ask again incredulously.

He has the nerve to look sheepish where he's still happily nestled between your legs post-orgasm, and you bop the top of his head with your palm, eyeing him expectantly.

"Wanna explain what all of that was?"

"Look—," he starts, lips quirking down into that little frown you know so well. "If you'd've heard the shit those fuckers were sayin' about ya. Probably would've said worse if I hadn't told 'em to fuck off before they got into some real trouble."

"Wait, you were the reason they all took off? Joel," you laugh because suddenly it all makes sense. 

You just learned the hard way that a grumpy, jealous Joel means getting edged until you black out. Pretty good knowledge to have for future reference, to be honest. Now that you're not sobbing with his head between your legs, it all seems so silly.

"What, did ya expect me to just stand there and let 'em talk about fuckin' my girl right in front of me?"

"I mean, no, but...I dunno, maybe just take the compliment next time and don't threaten a group of scary, muscular men," you chuckle fondly, cupping his wet cheeks in your hands. "Okay? It basically just means you have a hot girlfriend. Congratulations!" 

But he only grumbles in response, still pouting like a child. You bend down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

"What if, when we get home, I show you some of the techniques I learned in my class?" you murmur into his hair. He tilts his head back, eyeing you skeptically.

"Baby, we don't have a stationary bike," he says, brows furrowed in confusion. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes dropping to his lap.

"That's okay. We won't need one."

THURSDAY

"You can't imagine what I'm 'bout to say. You really wanna know? You'll have to wait. (It's a surprise, surprise.)"

Blue, blue, blue. Just do it, just be blue! It's a great color—the best color, maybe even your favorite color.

You keep chanting at it, loudly and in your head, but the plastic stick doesn't seem to appreciate your encouragement. It just stares back at you, blank and unhelpful.

How much longer do the instructions say you have to wait? One to three minutes, that's it? It feels like it's already been two hours, but it's actually only been...30 seconds. What the fuck.

Maybe if you shake it, it'll develop faster. It's basically like a polaroid, right? And Outkast has never steered you wrong, so. You lean over from where you're still sitting on the toilet, pants around your ankles, to test your theory but it's too late.

It already has an answer for you. ...Wait, what? Both of the lines are blue. So...does that mean you're extra not pregnant? You snatch up the pamphlet again, actually reading through the directions this time, and your stomach drops. Pink was never even an option. 

Two blue lines. Pregnant.

You knew this week was going a little too well. 

Those random bouts of nausea, the weird cravings, the fucking breast tenderness. They didn't need to mean anything. They shouldn't have meant anything.

Fuck. Fuck. What are you supposed to do now? You're way too young to have a baby. Well. Okay, that's a massive lie, but still, you're definitely not ready to have one. Or to be…pregnant. You shudder at the thought. 

Swollen ankles, morning sickness, mood swings. You’re already a walking rollercoaster of emotions, and your back hurts from just existing. No, you can’t do this. 

It's not about the finances, either. You and Joel both have steady jobs and could make it work if you wanted to, but do you want to? Will he? He’s not your husband, not even your fiancée, so there’s no reason for him to stick around. It’s not his burden.

There's just too many unanswered questions. And Joel's already someone's dad. He did the whole baby thing by himself and got it right the first around.

Sarah's perfect—fuck, what is Sarah going to think? Stupid, this was so stupid. You thought you were being so careful. Sure, Joel cums inside you basically every time you have sex, but that's totally beside the point. 

You take those dumb little pills at the same time every day, just like you're supposed to. Except…when’s the last time you had a period? Did you even get it last month? The month before? 

Shit, that wedding—when was that wedding? Your coworker’s, the rich one who decided to have a fucking destination wedding in Hawaii a couple months ago. It was decadent. You and Joel were super drunk the entire time and fucked like rabbits for three days straight. 

Fuck.

Don't cry. Do not cry. Joel will probably be back from picking Sarah up from soccer practice any minute, so you need to hold it together. Maybe you just won’t tell them, at least not until you’ve had more time to process everything and decide what you’re going to do.

But, god, you wear your emotions on your sleeve, and even more so on your face. They’ll know something’s off the second they look at you, and you won’t be able to talk yourself out of it. You’ve always been a shit liar. 

Tears start to fall without your permission. You slump slowly to the floor, pants still around your ankles, and curl up into a ball, willing it all to go away—the tiny clump of cells growing inside your belly and the regret of being so careless, of letting yourself get caught up in a serious relationship in the first place. This isn’t something you can just wish away. It’s life-changing and nothing will ever be the same again. Was it really worth it?

No, no. Of course, it was. Snap out of it.

If only it were that easy. Sobs wrack your entire body, and you can barely hear yourself choking on them, unable to hold them in anymore. Your eyes squeeze shut as you desperately try to block out your reality, but it seeps up your nose and into your mouth, salty and unignorable. 

Blood rushes in your ears and you realize belatedly that you’re starting to hyperventilate, but you can’t stop. You’re drawing in too much air all at once and it’s making your vision go fuzzy. It’s all just too much. Anger, sadness, and fear consume you until you’re screaming with it, desperate to expel it from your body any way you can.

So, you don’t hear the front door opening or Joel and Sarah running up the stairs, completely panic-stricken. 

Joel reaches the ensuite bathroom first and all but breaks down the door, but he’s met with the sight of your half-naked body in a heap on the floor. Immediately, he turns to block Sarah from getting in.

“Hey, hey—no,” he says firmly, wrapping her up in his arms to keep her from seeing past him. “You’re not goin’ in there. Ya gotta give us some time, alright?”

She looks up at him, scared and visibly shaken. 

“What if—do you think she’s okay in there? Was she hurt…d-did you see her?” she asks softly, eyes wet. “Can I see her?”

“Not right now, kiddo,” he mumbles, kicking the bathroom door shut behind him before leading her out of his room and into the hallway. “‘m sorry.”

The crestfallen look on Sarah’s face is the last thing he sees before he closes the door on her. But he has to ignore how badly it feels to keep her away from you, at least until he can figure out what the hell is wrong and how he’s going to fix it.

Your cries have quieted since earlier, but not nearly enough to ease Joel's fears. He can still hear you through the door, hiccuping softly, and opens it gently this time, entering slowly as if he's trying not to spook a scared animal.

It doesn't work as well as he'd hoped. Your head shoots up, a small gasp escaping your lips as you dizzily pull your pants back up.  

"Easy there, s'okay. Baby, s'just me, don't worry," he murmurs, dropping to his knees on the floor next to you, but you flinch away. You can only imagine the hurt in his eyes, and the mental image tugs at your heart. "I need ya to tell me what happened. Did ya hurt yourself?"

Yeah, you could say that.

You shake your head, the only thing you're capable of doing in the state you're in. Trying to speak would be useless after all the screaming you just did and you can't bear to look him in the eye.

"Hey, talk to me. If somethin's the matter, I need to know, 'specially if we gotta get you to the hospital," he says, reaching out to touch you. 

His hand grazes your shoulder, and your body jerks so viscerally that you slam your knees into the bottom of the sink. You let out a tiny whimper of pain right as you hear something small and plastic hit the ground next to you. 

Oh, no. Shit. You desperately try to kick the test out of reach, to cover it with your body—anything to keep him from seeing it—but his fingers wrap around it before you get the chance. He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth and you feel your whole world shattering. 

That's it, then. Even just a glance at those two blue lines will have immediately told Joel all he needs to know. Now he'll leave and he'd have every right. This is all your fault.

Your cheeks are wet again, but this time you can't bring yourself to care. Turning away from him, you curl back into a ball, ignoring the angry throbbing in your knees as you wait for him to yell or throw the test, or finally get up and walk out.

But he doesn't. Instead, you hear him delicately set the test back on the sink and then he lays down behind you on the floor, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your back into his chest.

His heartbeat is fast. It's racing against you and, yet, somehow his breathing is still so calm. The calm before the storm, you're sure of it. You tense, anticipation sitting heavily on your chest and lungs, and he can feel it.

His lips press into the back of your neck and even though the action is so tender and so Joel, you still can’t convince yourself that maybe you’ve misjudged this entire situation. Or that you’ve misjudged him.

“Sweetheart,” he sighs, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he isn’t calling you baby anymore. You can’t tell if that’s for your benefit or his. "Tell me what you're thinkin'."

Time feels like it's moving in slow motion. You really don't mean to ignore him…it’s just that you’re not thinking anything. Lying there in his arms, your mind goes blank, giving in to the white noise of his heartbeat syncopating your own fragile rhythm. 

But somehow he seems to understand you completely, filling the silence himself. His voice lulls you into a false sense of security, or…no. No, that’s not right. It’s real. His security, his safety, is real and reliable, proven and palpable.

“Listen to me—I need ya to hear this, alright? I want whatever you want and if ya don’t want this, we’re not doin’ it,” he says firmly, like he means it with every fiber of his being. You do hear him. But your heart and mind are still rebelling, begging you to see their own senseless logic. Joel won’t stop until he convinces them, too.

“But if ya do…if—,” his voice trails off, cracking almost imperceptibly. At least, to anyone else but you. “—if ya wanna do this with me, then ‘m with ya. Every step of the way, ‘m with ya.”

Then, for the first time since those blue lines appeared in your life, you feel peace. And it's all him. He’s given you a choice—one you knew you always had, but never thought to factor him into. You didn’t think you deserved to involve him. But he does. He deserves that choice, too.

The floodgates open and soon you’re sobbing uncontrollably again, but this time it feels cathartic. Like he’s freed you from a prison of your own making. You find your voice, wet and shaky.

“Joel, I’m scared,” you weep, turning in his arms to finally meet his eyes. And there they are. Brown and beautiful and clear, unclouded by fear and regret, and you let them make you brave. For him and your tiny clump of cells. 

“What if I can’t do this? What—I…,” you hiccup through the disjointed thought, “—if I give up…if it’s just too hard...”

“S’why there’s two of us,” he bends down to murmur soothingly into your cheek, lips brushing against the corner of your own. “But ya can’t push me away anymore. If we do this, then we do it together,” and that lances straight through your heart, obliterating all doubt and setting your decision in stone. 

Together. You’re in this together.

“Okay,” you croak, sniffling as he wipes away your tears. You repeat it, clearer this time. “Okay.”

FRIDAY

"You might think I'm crazy, the way I've been cravin'. If I put it quite plainly, just gimme them babies."

Doctors' offices have no business being as scary as they are. Bare and sterile, and not an ounce of color to be found anywhere but those creepy posters of in-depth diagrams of the human body. Gross.

You fight the urge to turn around and head straight back to the truck but, as if he can sense your plan to make a run for it, Joel places both hands on your shoulders and leads you toward the reception desk. 

“C’mon, we got this,” he says quietly in your ear, likely reassuring both of you. “We go in, they tell us you ’n the baby are healthy, then we get out.” 

You grimace. The baby. That’s still so weird. There’s literally a tiny being growing inside you, eating your food, and sitting on your fucking bladder. It’s like that thing in Alien that bursts out of people’s chests.

Great. Well, that’s officially off the list for movie night later, which Joel promised you'd have if you got your check-up without trying to escape. Technically, you’re doing great so far. And it’s an extremely tempting offer. 

Movie nights at the Miller house usually include a trip to 7/11 for popcorn, soda, and a box of your favorite candy. Those annoying cravings you’re just now realizing are because you’re pregnant would be extremely satiated by that. 

You’ll also get to curl up on the couch with Joel all night in a childless house because Sarah's staying at a friend’s. Win-win. But first, you have to make it through this check-up. 

Everything up until you’re inside the actual examination room isn’t actually so bad. The receptionist is nice enough, even though you can tell she deals with a lot of first-time moms by the way she treats you with baby gloves, and the wait time is less than 10 minutes. 

Yeah, you’ve totally got this. Or at least you did until the doctor shows up with an ultrasound machine and lifts your shirt to squeeze that freezing cold goop all over your stomach. You look up at Joel, scared and a little bewildered, and he takes your hand in his, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. The screen lights up with what you assume is a real-time view of the inside of your belly and, after that, it’s all sort of a blur. 

Six weeks. They tell you that you’re already six weeks pregnant, so you definitely conceived at that dumb wedding. At least you’ve got a story to tell. You’re also entering that fun stage where your nausea’s mostly cleared up, but now you’ll either be super tired or super horny at any given time. 

You try not to laugh when you feel Joel’s hand subtly twitch in yours. Of course, he perks up at that. Honestly, you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t going to enjoy it, too. Immensely.

Then, comes the big one. The entire point of this doctor’s visit, and the reason you and Joel are gripping each other so tight, you’re cutting off the other’s circulation. But it’s good news. Luckily, it's all good news.

Your tiny clump of cells is healthy, you’re healthy, and you can go home now, equipped with all of that very calming knowledge. One day, you’re going to have to stop calling them a clump, but you’ve decided today is not that day.

“Told ya it wouldn’t be so bad,” he teases as you walk out to the truck, still hand-in-hand. 

But his eyes betray his tone. There’s a seriousness to his joy, and you can see it so clearly in the way he’s looking at you like you’ve given him the greatest gift in the world. It makes you feel warm and…important. Loved. He continues, his voice tinged with something a little softer. 

“Thank you…for goin’, I mean. S’good to know that everythin’s alright. That you’re alright.”

You stop next to the car, meeting his gaze with what you hope is the same amount of love and affection you see, and throw your arms around his neck. 

“Thanks for taking me, and just…being here. Like, really being here, not just showing up so you can say you did,” you say earnestly, and he leans down to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you to pull you close.

“‘Course, baby. Don't have to thank me for that,” he mumbles against your lips. 

Not ready to separate from him, you deepen the kiss, running your tongue along his bottom lip until he opens for you and licking into his mouth freely. He groans as you press him into the side of the truck, his hands trailing down your sides to grip the plush of your ass through your jeans. 

You can feel him starting to stiffen against your belly and that carnal hunger the doctor warned you about takes over, the need to feel more, more of him overwhelming you. He’s just so solid everywhere. 

Your fingers skim underneath his shirt to feel his stomach flexing beneath your palms, and you roll your hips into his, gasping into his mouth at the friction. You’re so caught up in his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, that you don’t hear the group of people passing by on the other side of the truck.

But Joel does. He begrudgingly pulls away from you, hard as a rock and panting heavily. You whine at the loss, and he twitches against you in response.

“C’mon, baby, I’m not fuckin’ you in a goddamn Planned Parenthood parkin’ lot,” he chuckles, leading you to the passenger’s side of the car. He smacks your ass when you resist, and you shoot him a wounded glare. “Uh-uh, none’a that. ‘m takin’ you home. Owe ya a movie, don’t I?”

You perk up at the mention of his promise from earlier.

“You sure do. And candy, and popcorn, and soda,” you list off, easily distracted by the prospect of shitty junk food. You bounce into the car, shifting the seat to recline as far as it’ll go. “What are we watching?”

“Whatever you want, baby."

Well, he did say he’d give you whatever you wanted. And for a while, it was the movie—you’d even picked out your favorite. But you only manage to get about 20 minutes in before Joel's arm around your shoulder and chest under your cheek become an unignorable distraction. 

Now, you want something else. 

You don't bother teasing or playing coy, not when he’s so solidly pressed against you, just begging to be had. Your body rises and falls with every breath he takes, and it’s so visceral, being close enough to touch and taste him, and yet not doing either. 

His neck looks especially delicious under the faint, fluorescent lighting of the TV, and your lips press wetly into the underside of his jaw, sucking delicately as your tongue darts out to taste him. His breath hitches, but he shows no other signs of being affected at all. 

Taking that as your cue to up the ante, you drop your hand onto his lap to tug at his belt, but he catches you before you can make any progress. You tilt your head back to look up at him, brows furrowed in confusion, but he just smirks, eyes still locked on the TV screen.

"You wanted a movie, didn't ya? Thought ya loved this one," he says teasingly. "You can wait a couple hours—I know ya can."

Yeah, you can, but that doesn't mean you want to. He was so into it in the parking lot, so what happened between then and now? You didn't think he liked this movie that much, but apparently you were mistaken. 

Settling back into his side, you try to shift your focus back to the movie, but then the hand on your shoulder starts to play with your hair. His fingers graze your neck, and you're back to squeezing your thighs together in frustration. 

He has to be doing this on purpose. Riling you up so much that once the movie’s finally over, you’ll be putty in his hands. Well, two can play that game. If he won't let you touch him, then you'll just have to touch yourself.

Your eyes flutter closed as you run your fingers down your belly, slipping your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts to drag your fingers up and down your slick folds. God, you didn't realize you were already so wet. You gasp softly as you trail upward toward your clit, but Joel's voice startles you out of your reverie. 

"Should ya be doin' that right now?" 

There's a tinge of warning to his voice, and it burns hot in your veins. You open your eyes slowly and he's finally looking at you, his attention drawn to your fingers still moving under the fabric.

"Well, you weren't gonna. What, are you—," your middle finger brushes against that sensitive bundle of nerves and you bite back a whine, "—you...ngh—gonna stop me?"

The hand that was gently stroking your hair shifts back to firmly grip the back of your neck, squeezing just hard enough to make your fingers stutter. He leans in, his voice dangerously low in your ear.

"No, I'll let ya keep goin'. But you're gonna do exactly what I tell ya to, ya got that?" he murmurs, watching as your hips begin to swivel into your own sweet friction. "'n if you're good for me...," he trails off, eyes dropping down to where he's slowly jerking off his hardening cock through his jeans. "...I'll give ya this. We got a deal?"

You want him inside you so badly, you almost say yes before he's even done talking, but then you have a wicked thought. A counteroffer, of sorts.

"I'll take your deal. But—," you start with a devilish smile, and he raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. "Only if you touch yourself, too. Want you to fuck your hand like you're fucking me."

"Deal," he says without hesitation.

"Deal," you smirk, removing your hand from your pussy for him to shake, your fingers sticky and glistening. 

He takes your proffered hand but, instead of shaking, he wraps his lips around your slick digits, sucking you off each one and groaning at your taste. What you wouldn't give to have that tongue in your mouth. Or buried in your cunt. Pulling off with a lewd pop, he nods at your lap.

"Take your fuckin' pants off. Now."

Shit, he doesn't have to tell you twice. You quickly shimmy out of your shorts and underwear, and wait for his next instructions. You'll be a good girl for him. The best girl he's ever had and ever will.

"Spread 'em. Show me how wet you are for me," he mumbles, kicking your legs apart. 

You spread them as wide as you can. The cool night breeze filtering in through the open window meets your center, and you're suddenly aware of how much wetter you've gotten since you started. It almost makes your mouth water. You don't think you've ever been this turned on by your own body in your life.

Slick coats your thighs, seeping into the couch, and he looks pleased. You can see he wants to touch you just as badly as you want to touch yourself. Your knee bumps into his thigh and he hooks your leg over his, holding you open. 

"Shit, would'ja look at that," he breathes out in awe. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

Your cunt visibly clenches at the praise and he hisses in a breath through his teeth, resting his hand on your thigh so he can lean over your body. He lingers for a moment like he's admiring you laid out for him like this, but then moves a little closer and spits a thick glob of saliva right onto your clit. 

Your jaw drops, a loud gasp torn from your chest when he grabs your hand, using your fingers to gather it up and swirl it around your swollen nub. Shit, if he keeps going like this, you're going to cum and fast. 

Dropping your head back onto his shoulder, you rock into your fingers, slipping through the mess he's made of your pussy, and your body starts to feel like a rubber band about to snap. 

"Wanna taste you so fuckin' bad. Fuck you on my tongue 'til you're nice 'n ready for me," he growls, pressing your fingers harder onto your clit. "S'that what you want? Wanna cum in my mouth?"

You turn to bury your head into the crook of his neck, nodding frantically as you cry into the soothing warmth of his skin. You're going to cum. Fuck, fuck, you're going to cum. Your eyes start to roll back as you feel it crescendo, and then—

Then, he releases your hand, cruelly and unapologetically. 

"Not yet, baby. We both gotta be patient, don't we?" he teases you again, and your eyes snap open.

What the fuck. No, you're not letting him edge you again. It was fun and all at the gym, but you're way too far gone to be playing games right now. 

And how isn't he a total wreck? Both of his hands are on you, even though that wasn't part of the deal, so he can't be taking care of himself.

Your eyes drop down to his lap, and wow. This man has more willpower than you ever could've imagined. He's so hard, you can see the tip of his cock peeking out above the waistband of his pants. And it's leaking everywhere, twitching and angrily dribbling precum all over the fabric. 

He looks...so fucking good like this. Fuck, you want him so bad. But that means getting back on track, and it's obviously on you to make that happen. Clearly, he's more affected by all of this than he made it seem.

"Joel, please, just tell me what to do," you plead. You'll beg if you have to. Whatever it takes for you to finally get what you want.

"Alright, alright," he concedes, taking sympathy on you, likely reaching his limit himself. "'m gonna let you make yourself feel good, baby. Don't'chu worry."

"Great," you grit through your teeth. "Then start by taking your fucking pants off."

He chuckles at his words thrown back at him, but listens, regardless. His boxers and jeans are pulled off in two hard tugs, and his cock bounces against his stomach, thick and wet, and unfairly far from your aching pussy. The hand on your neck moves to gently caress the side of your cheek.

"Gonna start nice 'n slow, ya got that?" he says, biting back a groan as he wraps his fingers around his neglected cock. He starts to pump himself, and more precum leaks out. "Watch me."

But it didn't need to be said. You're already enraptured by the way he strokes himself, slow and steady, swiping his thumb over the head on every upstroke. He's panting softly, trying to keep his hips from jerking up into his fist, but you can see how much effort it's taking not to.

"C'mon, baby. Gimme one finger—your middle finger, all the way in," he commands, his voice as tight as his grip.

You tear your eyes away from him while you run your fingers through your folds, still slick with his saliva and your own desire, and then sink your finger into yourself knuckle by knuckle. It doesn't feel like much, and you both know it, but at least it's something. 

"Now, follow me," he says, watching your hand as intently as you're watching his. 

You rock your finger in and out slowly, just like he said. Because you're his good girl and good girls do what they're told. It’s already a sticky mess, your finger creamier with every thrust, and he groans out his appreciation. 

"Good girl. Add another one. Not too fast, now." 

Finally, you get some real relief. Slipping your index finger in alongside your middle finger, you feel that little bit of stretch you've been aching for and you can't help but whimper.

His lips part, brows furrowing as his hand speeds up. His eyes are locked on where your sopping cunt is sucking in your fingers greedily and, fuck, he's even more of a mess now. Sweat dripping from his temples, chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back. 

So hot. So fucking hot. It's scorching, the way your cunt feels around your fingers as you fuck into yourself a little faster. They're rubbing your walls just right, your palm grazing your clit after every stroke, and his hyper-focused gaze makes it all feel that much better. You want to hear him say it again. For him to tell you how well you’re doing.

"—ngh...i-is this good?" you whine, knowing how pathetic you sound, but forgetting to care.

"Perfect, baby. You're perfect," he rasps, unable to keep his hips from snapping up into his fist as the sweet sounds of your wet squelching reach his ears. "So fuckin' good for me."

Preening hard at his praise, you push a little too deep into yourself and graze something mind-numbing that almost hurts with how good it feels. You cry out, curling your fingers into it again and again as you bury your face back into his neck. His arm tightens around your shoulder and he leans over to press his lips soothingly against your forehead. 

"That's it, baby, just like that. Doin' so well," he groans, lips brushing against your skin. His strokes are frantic now and you know he can’t last much longer. "Need ya to gimme one more. Just one—last one, promise. Then I'll give ya whatever you want."

Nodding quickly, face still cushioned against his shoulder, you add your ring finger, and fucking hell, you’re so full. You stretch your fingers apart, pumping them in and out the best you can, and they drag against that spot—every spot—with how tight you are. But somehow it’s not enough. It’s not Joel’s cock, so it’ll never be enough. 

Everything’s drowned out except for the wet sounds of skin on skin, and Joel’s voice, still just above your brow, talking you through your almost painful pleasure. He’s panting, whispering tender words that you can’t hear so much as feel with those soft, perfect lips.

“…tell me when you’re close, baby. Can’t feel ya, gonna need you to use your words,” he barely chokes out, staving off his orgasm, waiting for you. 

It’s already close, but you’re only teetering, stuck in a constant loop of almost there, and need more. You can’t reach where you need to, but Joel can. So easily and all you have to do is ask. He said he’d give you whatever you wanted.

But you didn’t realize he was already at his limit, and you don’t get the chance to tell him before he’s babbling, delirious with the need to cum.

"'m sorry—fuck, 'm sorry. Need...to—ngh, fuck, need to cum inside you...fill you up...," he moans, and he sounds upset like he can’t help himself, not anymore.

Abruptly, so much quicker than you can fully process, your fingers are yanked out of your cunt and replaced by his cock, and the thrust is so harsh, he hits exactly where you need him to without even trying. The whine building in your chest erupts as a wail as you immediately lock down around him, sending him over the edge with you.

Full. God, how can you feel this full? You’re so unbelievably aware of him cumming inside you and there’s so much, he’s already leaking out of you. And he almost seems angry about it. Your hips are roughly tilted up so he’s fucking down into you, eyes unfocused, and snarling like a wild animal.

And still so mouthy.

“You got no idea how good ya look right now. Fuckin’ glowin’,” he all but slurs, drunk on the idea of keeping his seed inside you. “S’that my baby in you, makin’ ya glow like that?”

"Oh...oh, god, fuck, Joel,” you whimper, your aftershocks still milking him dry. “Christ, y-you trying to knock me up twice?" 

It’s like that alone makes him redouble his efforts. You’ve never seen him like this before, but you like it. Something primal in you wants this as badly as he does.

"Fuck yeah, baby, gonna pump you full'a twins."

Holy shit. You’re not sure if you’re still cumming or if you just came again, but you feel an entirely new rush of pleasure and he hisses out a breath through his teeth like he can feel it. Not long after, sensitivity starts to set in for both of you and he stills, seated deeply inside you, chest heaving and eyes shut tight. 

His hands squeeze where they’ve been aggressively gripping your thighs before he reluctantly pulls out, but he keeps your hips tilted up as he drops to sit between your legs on the cushion below.

“There a reason I can’t lay down like a normal person?” you laugh, wiggling in his grasp. “Joel, come on, put me down. I’m already pregnant.”

“Just gimme a minute,” he mumbles, suddenly sounding so solemn. He turns his head from where it's resting on the side of your knee to kiss your damp skin. “Didn’t know I was knockin’ you up the first time, just…lemme have this, alright?” 

Your eyes soften. How this man can be such a sap after fucking you like that is beyond comprehension, but if he wants this, then you’ll let him have his moment. It’s kind of sweet, anyway.

“Okay,” you reach up to brush your fingertips along his cheek. It's incredible, really, all of the things you see in Joel's eyes right now. That in this single, fleeting gaze, you can see forever. "Put a baby in me.”

SATURDAY

"Can you stay up all night? Fuck me 'til the daylight. 34, 35."

You’re convinced Joel tastes especially good in the mornings. There’s a hint of sweat to his skin, so naturally bitter and heady, maybe even a little tangy. It’s fucking delicious.

And he’s always hard in the morning. His cock is the perfect alarm clock, always reliable and super effective, whether it’s pulsing against your thigh or rutting into your ass. It’s your favorite way to wake up, but there’s usually not enough time to enjoy it to the fullest.

Not with work and Sarah, even Tommy showing up for breakfast unannounced. But it’s Saturday, which means you can keep your lips wrapped around him for as long as you want, make him cum as many times as you want, and taste him to your heart’s content. 

He probably won’t even wake up, at least not right away. Joel sleeps like the dead, especially on the weekends, and it’s been a long week. Even now, as you suck the tip into your wet, very eager mouth and swallow him down halfway, he barely stirs. 

That’s more than okay with you. You’d be happy to lie in bed, head pillowed on his stomach, keeping his cock warm between your lips while you wait. Relishing how fucking good he tastes and how your jaw pleasantly aches as you adjust to accommodate his girth.

But, soon enough, your jaw isn’t the only thing aching. The slick mess you’re making in your underwear right now is getting hard to ignore, but you don’t want to let him go. He’s velvety smooth against your tongue, dribbling salty precum down your throat, and his unconscious body is starting to respond to you more and more with each passing moment. This is your favorite part.

He lets out a soft grunt, twitching into the inside of your cheek, and your efforts become a little more concentrated and a lot more obvious. You try to forget about your soaked underwear and the pleasurable whoosh in your belly in favor of sucking a little harder, letting saliva pool in your mouth as you slurp loudly around the head.

His hips jerk up, surprising you enough to gag you, and that only makes your mouth and pussy wetter, the heat building in your core almost unbearable now. The moan that escapes you sends a drawn-out series of vibrations straight down to his balls that pulls even more noise from him, and your head steadily shifts with the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

He's starting to rut into your mouth, whimpering, and yet somehow still asleep, and it makes you feel powerful to have full control over him like this. To command his pleasure without any interruption or intervention, making him fall apart entirely at your mercy. You kind of hope you can get him to cum like this, to be his alarm clock for once. 

Turns out only half of your wish is granted, but you don't realize it until Joel's fingers are threading into your hair and abruptly tugging you off. He's definitely awake now, but he also definitely didn't cum. Bummer. You try sucking him back into your mouth, but he tugs you harder even as his hips chase you. 

"Joel, what—?" you glare up at him, but upon seeing him, you feel a little bad for your reaction. He looks so sleepy, still a little dazed from his unconventional wake-up call, blinking blearily like he's doing his best to stay awake. Your expression softens. 

"Sorry, got a little carried away," you murmur sheepishly. "But, um, you taste really good, so if you wanna go back to sleep, I can just keep—"

You're cut off by a hand trailing down your body, following the curve of your ass to dip inside you. He smears the moisture around your entrance, pushing two fingers into you, then pulling out to hold them up to his face. You watch him, enraptured by the way he inspects your wetness, how it strings between his middle and ring fingers. 

Then, he surprises you even further by sucking them into his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he groans around them before slipping them out totally clean. His cock jerks next to your face and you belatedly realize you're drooling.

"Fuck, so do you." He's fully awake now, eyes clear, but dark. Hungry.

"Huh?" you ask dumbly. 

"Ya taste really good," he mumbles, his voice low and so sexy, still thick with sleep. You feel your cheeks heat up. Oh. 

"C'mere, baby," he tells you, patting his chest. You crawl up his body and lean up to kiss him, assuming he wants you to taste yourself in his mouth, but he stops you. "Other way, sweetheart."

Your brows furrow in confusion as you try to work out exactly what he's asking for. Even though you've been awake and riling him up for what feels like hours, your brain clearly hasn't caught up yet. His eyes are unreadable, fingers tense at his sides. Like he's just itching for you to understand.

"Need you to figure this out—know you can do it," he rasps needily. "C'mon, smart girl, what do I want?"

And then it hits you. He's not asking you to sit on his chest, not really. He wants you to sit on his face. Needs you to. Sprawled out on your hands and knees where his spit-slick cock would be just within reach, bobbing temptingly with every breath he takes.

God, you want to. The idea of Joel fucking you with his tongue while he's fucking into your mouth makes you clench so hard it hurts. You bite your lip, meeting his expectant gaze.

Okay. Okay, you can definitely do that. Especially when he looks so...eager. It also has the double advantage of combining mind-blowing sex with a well-rounded breakfast. You have a feeling you'll both be full after this.

"Just so I have this straight—," you splay your fingers across his stomach, trailing down to wrap tightly around his length and tug upward until a single, perfect bead of precum leaks from his slit, "—you still want my mouth here."  

Your eyes stay locked on his as you bend down to lick it off, lingering to suckle the tip and tease your tongue just under the ridge. When he doesn't immediately tug you off, you take him deeper, preening at his harsh intake of breath. 

You don't want to press your luck, but he tastes fucking incredible, somehow even better than he did earlier. Maybe it's the way he's watching you, captivated and attuned to your every movement. 

He’s already starting to buck into you, shallowly, now an active participant in his own pleasure. His knuckles are nearly white with how hard he’s fisting the sheets, teeth gritting as he fights the urge to rush you. 

But his patience is wearing thin. Just a few thrusts later, he tugs you off with what feels like dwindling restraint, and your dazed, glassy eyes don't do much to help.

You look wrecked, and you know it. Lips swollen and slick with saliva, your lashes wet with unshed tears from the effort of taking him. He reaches out to trace your bottom lip with his thumb, hissing when you catch the tip between your teeth.

“Yeah...ngh—yeah, keep doin' that. Suckin' me just like that," he breathes raggedly. "And sit that pretty pussy right here—"

Then, without warning, he's suddenly manhandling you into position, throwing your leg over his head, and maneuvering you until you can feel him panting heavily against your cunt.

“Down, baby, let's go. Wanna taste ya. Now.”

Blunt nails dig into your skin and your hips stutter, dipping low enough for your clit to brush his bottom lip. It’s enough for him to get a taste of you. For him to finally snap and decide he’s done waiting.

Joel yanks you onto his face, licking a wide stripe from your clit to your entrance, his tongue immediately finding a home in your pussy. The motion knocks you off balance and you fall forward, his cock just inches from your mouth.

Bracing a hand on his stomach, you wrap your other around him and he groans throatily in response, the sound deep and muffled as he licks into you with increased fervor. And his noises only grow in volume, vibrating against your folds and sending jolt after jolt into your very sensitive bundle of nerves. 

His mouth feels so fucking hot, and the coarseness of his beard burns, making it hard to concentrate on what you’re desperately trying to accomplish. You’re already panting, hiccuped breaths puffing teasingly and cruelly against him until he’s pulsing in your grip. 

The promise of him throbbing just like that down your throat makes you focus just long enough to take him back into your mouth, intent on sucking him down as far as your body will let you. But, by now, any sense of self-control he might’ve had before is totally gone. His hips buck clean off the mattress at the tightness of your lips around him, and he all but chokes you with the force of it, the size of him. 

And, fuck, you love it. The way his stomach tenses, his thighs trembling beneath you. You can’t tell where your body ends and his begins, not when he’s fucking into you every single way he can. His tongue spears into you and your pussy rhythmically squeezes him every time his cock grazes the back of your throat. 

You’re audibly gagging around him and it’s filthy as hell, but you can tell how much it’s turning him on. Christ, can you tell. Maybe you were genuinely worried you’d suffocate him at first but, now, you probably couldn’t stop yourself from grinding into his face even if you tried. And that's exactly what he wants.

"...Harder—mmph, c'mon, baby," you feel him groan into your cunt, urging your hips even lower. "—ride me harder, harder."

How—he...fuck, he's...? Everywhere. He's everywhere. You struggle to do what he told you, to use him for your mounting pleasure, but it doesn't fucking matter anymore. You're helpless but to let him do whatever he wants to you.

Joel’s devouring you. Roughly grabbing your ass, moaning pathetically into you as he pulls your cheeks apart for better access. It’s almost like you can feel him swelling between your lips, and you try to pull up for just a second of respite. 

But, then, he abruptly shifts. His mouth lowers to suck gently, yet fleetingly on your clit twice, then he licks a wide stripe back up to your entrance. Except, he doesn’t stop there. Instead, he continues his path up, gathering your wetness as he goes, and swirls his tongue around your other hole before sucking hard. And it sends you reeling.

Jesus fucking Christ, that’s new. Fuck, and it’s—so...so good. It’s indescribable, how he feels right now. How he sounds—slurping you up, whimpering desperately like he’ll cum at any moment. 

And he’s loud, drawn-out moans escaping from so deep within his chest, they climb their way from that tight ring of muscle straight up your spine, where you can vaguely feel his arm snaking around you to claw at your back. You can’t think anymore—you’re done thinking. 

Now, it’s just him trapping you in place, the three fingers he’s suddenly pumping into your spasming pussy, and his cock, now abandoned and leaking on his stomach. It’s so much, bordering on too much, and you can’t hold yourself up anymore.

Your head drops unceremoniously onto the puddle of precum and it smears across your cheek as his hips urgently roll into nothing. But you don’t even notice. Not even when your eyes roll back and you start to babble deliriously, your orgasm building quickly in a place between your legs you can’t even begin to explain.

“Joel…JoelJoelJoel—I…you…,” you slam a hand down on the mattress as your thighs start to quake violently. “…cumming—‘m cumming, fuck—fuck.”

It doesn’t just crash over you, it rocks you to your core. Everything below your waist locks down, squeezing his fingers so tight, you swear you can feel each individual knuckle. Your jaw drops, parting around what feels like a silent scream, but you can’t be totally sure because soon, Joel is groaning so gutturally, you can’t focus on anything else.

At least, until he cums completely untouched right into your face. And he cums hard. Thick spurts cover your lips and chin, landing haphazardly on your cheek, and your tongue darts out to taste him, salty and sated and perfect. Exactly what you've been waiting for.

His thighs tense intermittently, a few more drops dribbling out of his slit, and you crane your neck, letting your tongue flutter over his head. As it pulses weakly against your lips, Joel gasps out your name, burying his face in your swollen pussy again. 

Lazily, you swivel your hips into his mouth despite the extreme overstimulation, hiccuping soft moans and nearly succumbing to the easy pleasure. He gently caresses your clit, enveloping you with a dextrous warmth that simultaneously makes you jolt and crave the sensation. 

Neither of you want to stop. Truthfully, you'd let him do this to you all day, drawing orgasm after orgasm from each other the way you have been all week. But exhaustion's starting to set in and you're not sure your body can physically take any more.

Joel slaps your ass and you huff out a soft laugh, deciding it's time to separate so you can get cozy with him again. The perfect end to your surprisingly athletic, lazy Saturday morning in bed.

“You gonna stop anytime soon, or do you just live there now?” you pant teasingly, grimacing as you slowly lift your head off his stomach. 

Shit, you’re a mess. You’re practically stuck to him, his cum drying on his stomach and your face, and you can feel the stickiness of his saliva mixed with your juices dripping between your legs. His hand trails from your ass down to your inner thigh, painting mindless patterns on your sullied skin.

"Sure don't seem like ya want me to stop," he chuckles tiredly, managing to suck your clit chastely one last time before you jerk your hips away. 

His head finally drops onto the pillow below him, and he lets out a disgruntled whine when you toss your leg over his head, plopping down on the bed beside him.

"Yeah, well, one of us has to have a little self-control or we're not leaving this bed today. And you, uh, look like you could use some tidying up,” you snort, scratching your fingertips against his already crusting beard. He mimics the motion on your leg, and you swat his hand away, rolling your eyes fondly.

It would be disgusting if it were literally anyone else but Joel but, here in this bed—your bed—it feels so natural. Like it’s totally normal that you’d be covered in each other’s releases, having a silly conversation on a Saturday morning as if you’ve done this all your lives. 

“Might wanna look in the mirror, baby. I’d be more’n happy to keep lookin’ at ya like this, but—,” he leans up to wipe a streak of cum off your bottom lip. His hand lingers, cupping your damp cheek, and you instinctively lean into his touch. “—you probably need more cleanin’ up than I do.” 

You eye each other for a few seconds, taking in how truly disgusting you both are, before bursting into fits of laughter. You’re smiling so hard, your skin tugs under his drying release and that makes you laugh even harder.

“Alright, alright, filthy girl,” he jokes, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Lay down, I’ll take care of ya.”

He sits up and slowly slides off the bed, yanking your legs out from under you as he goes. Still giggling, you flop onto the damp, cotton sheets with an oomph and immediately take the opportunity to stretch out your sore limbs. You nuzzle into your pillow with a soft mewl, practically purring as you try to soak up the warm morning rays streaming through the gaps in the curtains.

You glance over at Joel as you continue to nest like a gigantic cat, but he's already watching you, paused in the doorway to the bathroom. His eyes rove appreciatively down your naked body and you observe him quietly, deciding you'll let him stare for as long as he wants to. There's no rush. Sure, you're still a mess and probably have the worst bedhead imaginable, but despite it all, he makes you feel beautiful. 

When he returns with a cool, damp washcloth a few minutes later, he's much cleaner and you're only a little bummed that the evidence of your explosive morning is gone. He's gentle and attentive as he wipes the remaining streaks off your cheeks and chin, and bends down to kiss you once your face is officially cum-free. 

Okay, maybe you lied earlier. This is your favorite part. Joel taking care of you, choosing to express his affection through his actions and touch. You sigh into his mouth, melting into the first real kiss you've shared since waking up, and it takes his tongue tangling with yours for you to realize he tastes minty. He's always so delicious.

Trailing further down, he wipes his release off your stomach, pressing his lips to each freshly-cleaned inch of skin, and then crawls between your legs to wash away the mess he made of your thighs. Your eyes start to flutter closed at the repetitive shift in sensation, his hands lulling you to sleep, until the washcloth hits the floor with a dull splat.

Well, that was over way too soon. But you quickly forgive the horrible transgression once his warm, welcome body sinks into the bed next to you, and his tousled head of hair and beard nuzzle into your stomach.

He mouths at your skin, his lips pressing sweetly around your belly button, and it tickles, making you laugh as you thread your fingers through his curls and scratch his scalp affectionately. 

After a moment of comfortable silence, his hand splays warm and broad next to his head. His expression shifts and he looks unexpectedly pensive. Uncertainty creeps into your chest before you can logic it away, even though you know without a doubt that he wants this. His lips begin to move against your stomach and it takes a second for you to realize he's saying something, almost too quietly for you to hear. But when it finally registers, all of that fear completely fades away.

"Hey there, kiddo. It's me, your daddy," he murmurs, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin as soothing as his words. He has the tiniest smile on his face, and it's growing wider by the second. "We're all so excited to meet ya. Me, your momma, your big sister, your uncle...we already love ya so damn much."

The room starts to blur into a wash of colors and figures, and shit, you're crying. But how could you not be? He's...talking to your tiny clump of cells. To your baby—who can't possibly be bigger than a pumpkin seed—with so much adoration, it makes your chest ache. 

You're trying so hard not to tremble or sniffle or breathe too heavily so you don't startle him, but that doesn't exactly work out. A few stray tears make their way up your nose, and you snort around your next inhale. Classic, clumsy you.

Joel's head shoots up like he's been caught and his cheeks flush that beautiful shade of burgundy you love so much. You don't want him to stop, but he looks so embarrassed like he thinks he's done something wrong. That couldn't be further from the truth. 

"I'm just emotional from the hormones, it's totally fine. I'm totally fine," you give him a reassuring, watery grin. "Keep going. I think they like the sound of daddy's voice."

He chuckles and reaches up to wipe your tears away, gently cradling your face in his hand before he slides it back down to your belly. He continues where he left off, just like you asked, but you have a sneaking suspicion he would've anyway. Joel's just one of those men who was born to be a dad. It comes as naturally to him as breathing.

“Heard that? That's your momma, kiddo. She's....well. She's somethin' else. Strongest, most lovin', person I've ever known and fuckin' sharp as a tack," he smiles up at you, eyes crinkling and bright as the goddamn sun. "And she's beautiful. She even sounds beautiful, don't she? Hopin' you'll come out just like her."

You scoff affectionately, shaking your head as you share a look that tells you he knows exactly what you're thinking. If this baby pops out without his brown eyes and curls, you're going to be so pissed. You teasingly tug his hair, willing him to take it back, but he won't. If your baby's getting anything from the two of you, it's stubbornness.

Then, before you can blink, there's a sudden tone shift. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together, and he turns his head so he's speaking directly into your belly. An exchange just between a father and his child.

"Wanna know a secret? S'just between you and me, though, alright? Don't go tellin' your momma," he says nosing into your soft skin, his voice barely above a whisper. You watch him curiously, squeezing his hand to get his attention, but his focus remains on your stomach. "'m gonna ask your momma to marry me. Think she'll say yes?"

Your heart stops and it feels like all of the air's been sucked out of the room. That's—fuck...that's one hell of a secret to share with your baby. You can't even imagine the kind of trouble they're going to get up to if they're already keeping secrets like that. 

His eyes flit up to meet yours, but they're not questioning or expectant. He isn't wondering what your answer will be. He just looks peaceful. Blanketed in an easy calm because he already knows what you're going to say. Of course, he does. 

Propping his chin on your hip, Joel quietly observes your reaction while he strokes the back of your hand with the rough pad of his thumb. You wonder what he sees on your face and in your body language right now because you're positive it's not the elation or excessive joy anyone else would expect.

You're not squealing or jumping up and down, or whatever newly engaged people usually do. No, that blanket of easy calm is more than big enough for both of you, and it feels safe and warm, just like you always knew this moment would. 

And you wouldn't want it any other way. Lying here together after possibly the most eventful week of your lives, filled with so much sex and love and family, and deciding that you want to keep doing this together, over and over. Forever.

You guide his hand up to your lips, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to his palm, before placing it over your racing heart. That tiny smile returns to his face and he crawls up your body so he can kiss you properly, conveying his love better than words ever could. 

It's still way too early for your baby to kick or give their daddy any sort of sign that they heard his question, but you're sure they wouldn't mind if you answered for them. It's a no-brainer, anyway.

"Yeah, I do."

thanks for reading! 💕

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Guiding Hand 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect, depression, inference of self harm, violence, abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your online academics are affected by your personal struggles but your professor won’t let you give up so easy.

Characters: Raymond Smith, Lee Bodecker in the background

Note: My dudes.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your shoulder hurts. Your ribs too. You keep your arm across your middle as you drag your feet down the pavement. The impact of the bed frame continues to throb tenderly in your flesh. 

The embarrassment is worse than the pain. You barely hold back the hot tears behind your eyes. You can still hear Professor Smith’s voice. He was mortified, just as much as you. How can you ever face him again?  

You’re not going to. You give up. Lee is right. You’re too stupid. You’re useless. You’re destined to end up just like your mom. Not quite. You doubt there will ever be a man who would waste his time. 

You dab away the moisture along the brims of your eyes before you enter the convenience store. You nod at the cashier and duck down the middle aisle. You find a canister of your usual brand and linger before the shelf. You don’t want to go back yet, but you know the longer you take, the more reason there is for Lee to complain. 

You pay and head back out into the street. The sky is grey and clouds dampen the air. There’s a rainstorm coming. It’s a perfect setting for today. 

The apartment rises before you and you sigh in resignation. This is it. The rest of your life. Well... 

One day your mother will cast you out. It might be sooner than later with how Lee hangs around, how he commands her. He doesn’t see a place for you there. You don’t see one for you anywhere. What will you do then?  

As it is, all you have to your name is your laptop, your ratty clothes, and the debt you won’t be able to pay back when you fail this course and drop out. You’re defeated by the time you get to the top of the stairs. You keep your head down as you enter the apartment and slide the chain into place. 

You’re met with thick grunts and the slap of flesh. Your mom’s whimpers are muffled but Lee’s carnal noises are untethered. Your breath traps in your chest and your skin razes hotly. You try to ignore it as you enter the kitchen and set the canister on the counter, leaving the change on the lid. 

As you back up, there’s a glimmer of movement from your left. The bathroom door opens, revealing the back of Lee’s rutting body. You cover your eyes in horror as he huffs and puffs, your mother’s strangled cries trickling out as she’s hidden behind the door, between him and the sink. 

“Put a pot on,” he demands as he grips the door and bites his lip, putting more into his thrust, “we’re almost done.” 

He smirks and winks before he snaps the door shut. Your stomach stirs with nausea and you quickly spin away. You shake as you near the counter. You have no other choice. You know if you ignore him, he’ll make sure it all gets worse for you. He’s already ruined so much. 

You put the change aside and uncap the canister. You peel back the freshness seal, your bandaged hand making it all the more tedious. The coffee grounds catch on the gauze. You fill the tank of the machine and set the pot in place. You measure out the coffee and flip the lid down, hitting the red button before you walk away. 

You can still hear them. Even as you shut your bedroom door. You face your room and turn on the light. It’s worse than when you left. 

Your bed is half off the frame, your bookshelf’s been cleared onto the floor, your laundry basket is overturned, and your laptop... It’s under the chair. You cross the room and bend to pick it up. You examine it; loose hinges and the frame is peeling away from the monitor. Your heart plummets and you drop into the chair. 

You have to prop the screen up against the wall to keep it open. Awkwardly, you reach across the desk to reach the keyboard and hit the power button. To your surprise, it boots and the screen lights up. The colours are all off; the dark is now light and the reverse. The mouse pad doesn’t work, or half the keys. 

It takes you twenty minutes to sign in. Aside from your burnt hand, the state of the laptop is more than enough to deter you. You watch the desktop load helplessly and several notifications pop up along the right side of the screen. You don’t read any of them as you see the name; Dr. Raymond Smith. 

You know what they are. Just like before. He's repulsed by you. By the way you live. He saw the truth and you can't hide it any longer. It's not worth it to deny it any longer. 

It was all a stupid idea. As stupid as you. It's easier to just give up. You don't know why you tried in the first place. 

You'll put in a request to drop the course. If you can. You can't do much given the state of your laptop. You can't do much at all in life. That's the way it will always be. 

📓

The last... however many days you've been awake. Waiting. Dreading. Expecting Lee to burst in and humiliate you again. 

Every time you try to close your eyes, you swear you hear the door knob. You put the chair under the knob. You're so tired. Exhausted to the bone. You need sleep badly. 

You lay down, head swimming with agony, and your eyes close without another thought. You can't resist the heavy blanket of fatigue that drapes over you. There is nothing. A void of sheer desolation that wraps around your body, submerging you like dark water. 

You wake with a start. The vision of blue eyes fade in an instant. Eyes you know. Not the vivid irises of the sinister man in your mother's room, no a pair of almost crystalline orbs, soft and diligent. You shake of the thought and rub the stitch from your forehead. 

You smell. You've been wearing the same clothes since that day. How long ago was that? You can't count. You haven't showered, the room is the same mess he made of it, your life too. 

You don't move. You don't want to. Not until the gentle tap comes at the door. You groan as the handle turns but the chair keeps the door lodged in place.  

"Sweetie," your mom calls through, "will you let me in?" 

You stare at the door. Your limbs refuse to move. You can't lift even a finger. You close your eyes and listen to her beg. You hate that. You hear it constantly, the way she begs him to stop, to listen, or just to be kind. 

Go away. 

When you open your eyes next, there's a banging on the door. The chair lurches and the legs scrape on the floor, but the door stays shut. You hide again, pulling a pillow over your head. 

Time flows into vague droning and shades of grey. Your head is foggy and thick. Suddenly, you're awake and staring up at an angry face. You're torn out of the bed and dragged to sit at the edge. Only Lee's unbreakable grip keeps you from flopping onto your back. 

You stare up at him dumbly then your eyes search past him. The chair is broken on the floor. You look back to him, head lolling. You blink as he snarls. 

"What're ya doin'? You're drivin' your ma batty! And I gotta listen to it so you get your ass up." 

You try to swat him away and whimper as your hand pulses and fire course through your skin. You force your spine rigid and try to shrug him off. You shake your head and cradle your hand in your lap, the bandage stained and smelly with puss. 

"Get on you fucking feet," he lifts you as if you weigh nothing. You as good as dangle from his grasp, "cupboards are empty." 

"Sweetie," your mom's birdish cheep comes from the doorway, "we got the credits. I wrote a list for you." 

"Laying in the dark all day, what else you got?" Lee scoffs and lets you go. You waver on your feet and look dully over at your mothers shadow. "Fucking stinks in here." 

You shuffle past him silently. You don't know what to do, you just know you need to be away from him. You feel sick. You're dizzy and drained.  

You put out your uninjured hand to take the list from your mom. Your stench ripples off the hoodie. She smiles through a curled lip. 

"Sweetie, you should get changed first," she slurs and give a doelike flutter of lashes. Drunk, as always. Maybe you should start. Maybe you wouldn't have to feel so much. 

You nod and go to the closet. Lee prowls around your desk but you're too hazy to care. You pull out a new hoodie then go to the dresser to find some loose sweats.  

You stop and stare at the man standing by your bed. The thick silence strangles you as he growls under his breath. Your mom trills with nervous laughter. 

"Lee, come on, she gotta put new clothes on. Honey, can you make sure you grab an extra chop for him?" 

You shrug and you hug the rumpled clothing with one arm and stare at the floor. He can have yours. Your stomach is so empty, the very idea of food makes you want to wretch. 

"Mmm, stop dragging your ass," he snarls as he stomps to the door, "fucking starving." 

You wait until he slams it. You expect that. You don’t even react. You lay the clothing on the desk and peel off the dingy layers. You pull on the sweats and swoop the sweater over your head. If you keep the hood up, you won’t have to worry about your hair or face. 

You take the list and stuff it in your pocket. Each step is a stagger. Your body is stiff and sore. You go out into the hall and brace yourself for another attack. You only hear your mother murmuring in the kitchen. You edge away and sit on the floor as you put your shoes on.  

You stand and fumble with the locks on the door. You can barely get your fingers to co-operate and your burnt hand is in flames. The bandages barely cling to the flesh. You shut the door behind you without using the key and head down the hallway. 

Down the stairs, you can see the yellow sunlight seeping in through the front doors. You emerge, squinting into the shine, and raise your hand as you try to see through it. Your head pounds at the intensity of daylight.  

You trod between the freshly mowed plot of grass before the building and stop by the sidewalk. You sway and try to shake the cobwebs out. You look one way then the other. The heat gathers under your sweater and you hunch down even more. It’s an unusually warm day. 

Your name startles you before you can find your bearings and set off for the store. You must be delirious. Maybe you should’ve found some stale bread to chew on. Rings of colour form in your vision as you turn around to face the echo of your name. 

The figure moves decisively towards you. You have to be hallucinating. It can’t be him. It’s probably that guy who always asks for a light between puffing smoke towards the doors. 

“I’ve been emailing,” Professor Smith says. You lean back on your heel and grimace. He isn’t real. “You... are you well?” 

You stare at him. You try to see through the delusion but can’t. You look down at your trembling hand then turn to peer down the street. 

“I have to go,” you croak over your dry tongue. 

You turn away, feet tangling, and stagger on. You can hear him following. His steps are fleet and light. In a moment, he’s at your side. 

“Please, you look ill, slow down,” he touches your arm and you rip away from him. 

“Leave--” you stumble and throw your arms out to balance yourself, stopping short as you nearly keel over. “I’m okay.” 

“You clearly aren’t. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for over a week. After our last meeting, I’m certain you can understand my concern--” 

You face him and scrunch up your nose, “Professor,” you stammer out, “you don’t have to worry about me. No one does.” 

You quickly veer past him and fall into a clumsy sprint across the street. You barely dodge a car on your way to the other side and you’re out of breath as you meet the curb. You keep your head down as you hurry away, hoping he’s not persistent. He’ll go away. He’s not real, so you just have to stop thinking. 

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Would you maybe possibly do a platonic Larissa x fem Student reader? The reader’s mother is shouting at her outside the school because of her grades, but the reader is obviously upset and overwhelmed and Larissa stands up for her. The student opens up to Larissa about everything once her mom leaves and Larissa comforts her and tells her like “you can always come to me, my office is always open.”

(Totally not what I’m going through rn🤭)

Platinum Goddess to the Rescue ~Soft!Larissa Weems xFem Student!Reader

Summary— Larissa comes to Readers rescue out of a difficult situation, comforting and loving on Reader.

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Anon response— Hey anon…! Thank you for the request, but I am sorry that you know some of what this angst is like 😣♥️ Hope you Enjoy! 💞💞

Warnings: Angst, then fluff, comforting, yelling, implied verbal abuse, physical comforting, happy endings, etc.

Enjoy (:

Every morning, Larissa did her morning walk around the school grounds. Especially this weekend with all the parents in town, Larissa made sure to get up early to get an extra lap around Nevermore in.

As she walked along the school hedges, nearing the school gates, Larissa caught wind of shouting. Larissa stopped in place, her ears perking up.

“How do you expect to succeed in life? Go to college??” Your mother shriked.

Silence.

And then a stomp and a huff.

“You are destined to fail, you always have been. Just like your father…!!” The woman shriked again.

Larissa was alarmed at the tone that this woman was taking with whomever she was speaking to. Rounding the hedges and stepping through the gates, Larissa walked right up to where the shrill voice was stemming.

There, outside the gates of the school, she found you, standing with your arms crossed and your head hanging low, your whole body trembling. She examined further and saw what she assumed to be your report card, trampled in the ground, and across from you and the paper was your shrieking mother.

The whole sight made Larissa’s face twitch in infuriation. Your lip was trembling and you looked like you were about to burst in tears.

“What on earth is going on here?” Larissa said with already strained teeth in the most professional tone she could muster at the moment.

“I was just having a word with my daughter. This doesn’t concern you, Principal Weems.” Your mother said, her tone turning sickly sweet.

But Larissa didn’t buy her newfound tone. Not one bit. She stepped forward, picking up the trampled paper in front of you, then coming over to you. Larissa placed a hand lightly against your back.

“I will be needing to discuss Miss L/N report card with her in my office. If you will excuse us.” Larissa spoke definitively.

Larissa gave your mom no time to say anything else, she simply turned you and around along with her and led you away. As you two entered the school, you vaguely heard your mother yelling something which made you shake even more, but Larissa kept her hand against your back, rubbing it comfortingly in circles.

You spoke no words all the way to Larissa’s office. Once you made it to Principal Weems’ office, she closed the door behind the two of you, and then she guided you to sit on a big couch by the fire.

She threw away the report card, and then came and sat next to you, continuing to rub your back, looking at you in concern.

“Are you alright, love…?”

You were still shaking a little and your lip was still trembling as you shook your head lightly. You looked at Principal Weems with teary eyes.

You snapped as she gazed down upon you, breaking down into tears. Larissa was quick to scoop you up and you easily curled into the woman’s lap.

“I am so sorry, Darling…” Larissa comforted you, “You can always come to me, you know, my office is always open.”

You nodded in the woman’s lap, as you began to calm down more and more.

~~~

Larissa Weems Masterlist

[writing-frenzy]

Isekai with the Kurosaki fam; now with some UraIchi spice

So, my brain has been dumping even more ideas for a fandom I can't write for, so I guess I'll dump all the ideas on the ground and sees what happens; also, partly inspired because of DevinePhoenix's Glass Body, Steal Wings and slightly be Cannon Ichigo in AU series by Williamcipher, especially the third of the series, because ye.

Anyways, so for me, I can never imagine Ichigo would part from his sisters and Goat-face easily, even in a normal au, because it's Ichigo's family, his friends, his lost, his life experiences that makes him who he is as a person; if he died and then transferred, a part of me wonders if he would ever try and get back home somehow. So my brain went-

Brain: hey, how about we have a thing that makes the entire family get into an accident :D

Brain: And, like, maybe a day before or when Ichigo was younger, he ended up saving a godly being's most beloved person, so the god is like; hey, I owe you, I'll reincarnate your family into my world; thing is, the world the god has is maybe connected in a way to an anime/webnovel/comic one of the girls or Ichigo's friends were reading, and Ichigo knows it because he was convinced to watch/read it as bonding.

It's a world of magic and fantasy, where words and names have power and things go bump in the night ever so easily. Ichigo and his Family find themselves in a cozy little hideaway, all confused but happy and relieved to be alive and with each other. Isshin in this au will be an awkward, not the best father but he loves and he tries, and he just wants the best for all of his children. (He is the unsarcastic B+ parent, because with all the shit in this au coming, Ichigo deserves this).

Isshin in their original world is descended from a sword wielding samurai family, and he's had the forms and everything beaten into him since he was young, and the reason why he never taught Ichigo was because he didn't know how to be a gentle teacher and he never wanted to hurt his boy. (it's why he's always given his children freedom and choice of what they want.) And coming into this new world, this new place, everyone can feel a change in their bodies, can feel power in their veins even if they don't know what to do with it. See, Ichigo's mom had a little something funky with her blood but didn't know it and Isshin is actually a human with spiritual powers but with their original world it never came out, and with the God giving them a boost/perks, everyone is learning how to control themselves first and foremost.

It's after a bit of convincing and Isshin making Ichigo promise to tell him if he's going too hard that he starts teaching him the family style, along with others in scrolls with phantom teachers to guide them along. It is rough, it is harsh, but it's Ichigo so he pushes on through and becomes better for it. (The two do agree to see if they can find better teachers for the girls though, as Karin wouldn't suit this style even if she would be good with a sword, and Yuzu seems like she would be better with magic then a blade.)

The family of four spends like three years here, learning all they can, devouring every book and all they can remember of the OG!Story of this place before they all have exhausted all the sources and knowledge of the cottage, can no longer progress in their skills as they have been, and had enough cabin fever to drive any sane person down the river. But they're not stupid, so first things first, Isshin scouting at first, then with his son, before him and Ichigo take turns exploring and scouting the area because they don't like leaving the twins alone. But as they're getting a lay of the land and comparing maps and such to reality, even getting a feel for their new magic gadgets and all, they come across monsters and such here and there Once Isshin is sure that Ichigo can handle himself, its only then they spilt so one can stay with the girls while the other explores for a few days, even if Ichigo is only allowed to do it for two days to his father's week.

After that, packing everything they need into magic bags and hammer space, the family takes one last look to their home of all these years, bows in thanks before they are off. It's not long till they join a trade caravan, Isshin trading his skills as a doctor to do so. They travel around for a bit, before in the end, they settle down in a bustling, safe city that never fell in the story, even if the story's protagonist and gang lives here with all their wacky and troubling hijinxs.

So, now that backstory and such is out of the way, let's get to some of the fun stuff. :3

Ichigo does not realize just how strong he actually is; see, in this world of magic and stuff, swords are... technically considered obsolete; of sure, in the story there is a Magic Swordman who is part of the Protagonist's party, but even there they mostly use the sword as fancy focus then to actually fight with it. But with the way Ichigo was trained, as well as both his and his father's lack of common sense for this world, for them it is as easy to cut down a monster as it is to cut down spells themselves. Neither Ichigo or Isshin understand how insane that is, because once a spell is out, you usually have to dodge it or hope it hits someone else if you can't counterspell it.

The Kurosaki's also avoid the Protag and his crew; lets not get involved in your drama, please and thank you (lol, just had the thought of how protective Isshin and Ichigo would get if the story was with a Harem Protag; both would be protective as heck over the twins because with either reverse or regular harem, girls usually get the shit end of the stick). Ichigo is just fine how he is, even if he keeps getting into fights because of random assholes, his charm flowing out and getting his own loyal friends without his knowing. Karin is way too interested in magical sports to care not to mention her age while Yuzu is getting fascinated by potions, alchemy, and cooking to care.

One day, after Ichigo has been feeding some tidbits to some strays, he finds what seems to be a tea and candy shop, with books to read. it doesn't have much business, being out of the way like it is, but there is the occasional regular coming out. Ichigo shrugs, he has time and so he enters this Urahara Shoten.

Somehow, someway, he ends up making friends with Geta-boshi, who as frustrating as he is, recommends good books and a listening ear. Things lead to one things, stuff happens, and Ichigo finds out this guy also has sword.

Sparring partner acquired, though it takes some convincing, a bit of bribing, but Ichigo is able to get the other to agree; he gets his ass beat easily, but Urahara is a harsh, but good teacher, and so Ichigo just thrives in the challenge.

As for Urahara, this guy is so fucking terrifying, just like in canon, how he is assassin sharp and quick with his blade even as he can spellcast at the same time, just watching Ichigo cut through his spells to meet his blade.

Kisuke: this is the most fun I've had in ages :D I wonder what else he can do if I don't tell him what's impossible.

These two end up getting involved in some harsh canon event disasters, Ichigo fighting with Kisuke, knowing the other man won't let him down. Kisuke, having someone he can trust lead the way, knowing, having faith the other can survive alongside him...

Just, these two bonding, getting closer, Ichigo introducing his sisters and Goat-Face who is giving that weird stare.

(On Isshin's part, he recognizes what's going on, and for all that he is not going to be a hypocrite, is not going to kick this Urahara guy as hard as he can and hide Ichigo away, he suddenly... completely understands Misaki's family's cold and hard stares as he had gotten, watching how the elder blond stares at his 20 year old son like he is sun, like he can't believe there is any light in his life again after being shadowed so long. He's pretty sure that is the same stare he had given Misaki as well, just as how Ichigo looks softer, warmer, happier the minute that Urahara guy stays by his side, just how his mother would melt around him despite her expression never changing.

So, Isshin won't say anything, especially since he can tell neither has a clue... but he will be doing the protective, embarrassing Father as much as he wants.)

So yeah, this is the idea :3 I also have another idea with a Mob Protagonist!Ichigo, where he comes to be a character never even mentioned in a story, and ends up charming local shop owner Urahara Kisuke, who is secretly the terrible, scary Puppet Master Benihime without knowing it. maybe I'll note it out when I feel like it, though if people want, they can ask questions about it.

[hh0320]

໑ — stars in the ceiling. pt I

pair. solo singer! felix x fem! reader (+ mentions of hyunjin)

genre. set in the 90’s, childhood friends to strangers, moving back, struggle with fame, angst, romance, smut.

warnings. profanity, smoking, alcohol/drug abuse, use of pet names, flawed characters, harsh language at times, dark themes, unprotected sex, oral sex, dirty talk, mental health issues.

word count. 6.2k

a/n. hi my loves! this is going to be a mini series, though i’m still not sure how many parts it will contain. nevertheless, pls treat this idea kindly, and don’t judge its characters too hard, they’ve gone through a lot. feedback and reblogs are always much appreciated and will be replied to! enjoy xx

‘Felix will be going back to Australia for a much needed break, sources close to him reveal. The twenty-three year old alt rock singer just concluded his second world tour, Doll, earlier this week in Los Angeles, with news of his breakup with supermodel Hwang Hyunjin coming out at the same time.

The two had been dating since the Aussie’s rise to fame in 1994.’

New South Wales had remained the same, despite the unshakeable change in Felix’s chest. Barina Road had the same houses standing, fifty-year-old trees stretching, widening into the sky, hiding his parent’s garage from view, the stairs leading up to the front door. He’d paid off the mortgage, bought them a new car.

The sun was beaming, February in full display. His manager greeted his mom, and introduced his assistant, explaining they would be staying at a hotel not too far from there. His father had a beard now, his sister looked taller, and wore glasses.

Your house was around the corner. He could see the rose bushes along the hill, the white shutters with the black outlines. Felix could close his eyes and go back to your room, 1992, the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling, The Cure and The Smiths’ posters on pastel pink walls, lace trimming on your sheets, makeshift forts and flashlights at midnight, notebooks with hearts drawn on folded ends, his name and yours written next to each other, hand over hand. ‘Girl Afraid’ playing softly through a cassette in a beat down radio. Your dad’s homemade chocolate chip cookies, and the determination that rushed through Felix’s veins the moment he tasted them, the promise he’d made to himself to make those same cookies for you one day, to learn how.

He never did. His demo got picked up from a record label that would later refer him to the one he belongs to now, and he had to fly out to Melbourne right before your eighteenth birthday. From then on it’s been a shooting star.

He blinks to find his mother teary eyed, arms open. He doesn’t walk—he runs. Washed out silvery blonde locks long enough to be pulled in a ponytail, brown eyes the color of wild thyme honey, hands tired, heart broken. A boy coming home is a very old story, one that will never stop being written. And even though it feels strange to be back after five years of palm trees, everything and nothing—Hollywood, with its golden gates and trophies and nightmare people— it is exactly what he needed. It’s where he has to be.

“You look so tired, baby, so frail,” his mom sobs, pressing her mouth on his temple. “Did no one take care of you? Did no one care?”

Felix didn’t answer. He brought chocolates and clothes for his sisters, jewelry for his mother, Cuban cigars for his father, and his first ever Grammy for you, because none of this would’ve been possible if you hadn’t befriended him all those years ago in the playground. If your voice hadn’t guided him away from those swings and into the forest. If he hadn’t played hide and seek with the girl that wore ribbons in her hair, dark cherries for eyes. And what does he say knowing this?

I left behind the one person that did. That mattered that it did. And when I found something similar, I couldn’t hold it in my hands, I couldn’t get close to it no matter how much I tried.

“I missed you, mom,” he mumbles instead, and grinds his teeth to keep from crying. “I should’ve called more. I should’ve visited.”

The shorter woman sniffles and rubs her son’s back soothingly, shushing him only a mother knows how to. He breathes in her familiar scent, her cooking imprinted on her purple shirt, and smiles sadly. Hyunjin would’ve loved her; he wanted to meet her the most, wanted to hear all the stories when they were in bed together, what few times they were both sober, capable of adventure and conversation till the early hours of the next day. “I never had a mom,” he’d tell him, brown strands of hair escaping his staple bun. “Cherish your mom for me, Yongbokie. Love her terribly.”

“Come inside,” she tells him, waving away the rest. “Stay forever if you need to.”

“It means happiness,” he’d explained on that first meeting with the boy shining more brightly than the chandelier lighting the entire theater. “Yongbok.”

The boy had smiled and it’d made all the difference. His lips reminded Felix of black cherries, of the girl in the room with the window overlooking the trees. “I know what it means. It’s about time I met you.”

Time away from chaos felt empty. The hours passed by slowly, serenity made him paranoid, like it couldn’t possibly last, even there, in a different continent, across the globe. Getting on an airplane didn’t guarantee you’d get away, he realized soon enough. It wasn’t possible, because you can’t outrun yourself.

And it was that Felix was trying to escape. How known he’d become, how aware of his own shadow he was. At first, he’d thought of it as a mountain to climb, something to be achieved, and then something else. It was a ladder leading up, up, up and nowhere specific, but he climbed it anyway. The little prize in his hands was the ultimate show, that one last thing he had to do that would grant him access to more of the same everything and nothing everyone else seemed to be so desperately after. After he’d won it, the decision to leave it all behind became clearer than ever.

A lot of the people he admired had died. And it didn’t matter which way you looked, destruction came in the form of white powder, accompanied by a spoon or a syringe if you were brave enough and had much to lose. “Take your pick, there’s many ways to kill yourself,” a girl had told him once at an afterparty. Young and impressionable as he was he chose by what he saw and picked up the bottle of champagne in front of him. The least harmful, he’d thought. But the sneakiest one of all. And then he saw Hyunjin smoking cigarettes after one of his fashion shows, and thought to try that too. Then it felt like something they could share, so Felix kept smoking until the cough subsided and his fingers smelled of tobacco. 

One thing the model never tried to do was shield him from the horrible ways of the industry, and the blonde still can’t find it in himself to castrate him for it. Now, so many thousands of miles away as he was, the habits seemed to follow, like supportive friends. The world is a fucked up place, but it doesn’t seem so bad from where he sits on the rooftop of his childhood house. He could drop the stick from his hand, or break the golden trophy and even deny the existence of evil altogether.

How easy, how vulnerable fame is. You could be no one in particular if you made all the right choices. Felix wasn’t sure why he seemed to do the opposite, walk the other way, the reason for his selective blindness. When something shiny has your name on it you hold it close to your chest and sing to it. It’s precious because it reflects light off it.

Until when?

Your light was on. 

He looked for it, looked for a car coming up the hill, watched the sun set, the blending of colors, how majestic it can all get before it fades to black, but you showed up right in the blue of it. You still drove the same Jeep your dad had gifted you for graduation, but your hair was longer, you’d grown a bit. Felix saw how your white dress danced in the summer breeze, ran his eyes down your tanned legs as you walked from your driveway inside your house, and finally, about ten minutes after that, the light through your curtains.

His mother hadn’t mentioned he was back.

He smiles down at his burning cigarette. How would he ever face you with the way he left? He never called, only wrote to you on your birthday, and released a song about a starry girl that visited his dreams, knowing very well that girl waited for him for years to return, even if just for a little while. The guilt of never doing so, and instead loving someone else so all consumingly, while that same song went on to become his best selling single, the song he’d be known for for years to come? It crippled him.

He never wanted to see your face stare back at him. He would rather die, and he admits this to himself bravely. You were his first girl, his only girl. No one would ever come close to you, because you’re clean—you have his innocence, his first time, before he knew anything about anything, and how despite it, he loved you stupidly, earnestly, because it made sense, because it felt right.

“Starry girl, will you burn bright, for me tonight? Oh, will you stay a little while, darling girl…”

How hypocritical. If Chan was around he’d be calling him out, or pushing him down the fucking roof. Felix wouldn’t even mention the broken leg or the dislocated shoulder, because it’d serve him right. Perhaps he needs a solid reminder of his aliveness, of how doing wrong by someone and paying for it feels like. La La Land doesn’t have that, it couldn’t possibly understand that. There, people look up and never down. There, they would push, and keep pushing; they would climb over, step on your neck, tear you apart at the seams for a chance to just keep.looking.up. That climb is all there is.

It’s empty too, but you learn how to miss it.

Felix thinks he might’ve sold his fucking soul, somehow, because as he gets back in the house, his mind won’t stop screaming for him to run away from there as well.

Not a place that could hold someone that’s had everything and then more of it.

Chan hates his guts twice as much as you possibly ever could, but Felix calls him anyway.

“Hello?”

“Chris. It’s me.”

A long pause. The singer falters, thinks he’s made a mistake, curses himself for ever thinking anyone would want anything to do with him after—

“You’re a fucking cunt, Felix, and I hope you burn in Hell. Sincerely.” The blonde nods, his chest tight, his throat dry. “How are you?”

He smiles. “Terrible. Fucking awful, mate, thanks for asking.”

“Good.”

“I’m in Australia.”

“Son of a bitch.”

Your white dress flows in his dreams. It folds and stretches like the wings of a butterfly. The pages of his journal stare at him, his eyes heavy with sleep, but for once nothing pours out. He thinks he’s meant to keep that to himself, and perhaps that’s okay.

Instead he writes about a broken boy that smiles for the cameras but never for his love.

His older sister works as an intern for a law firm. He didn’t know that, because he never asked. The sting of it burns all the same.

She has a fiance, is preparing to buy a house, and tells him of his mom’s sickness at a private restaurant. He didn’t know that either, but in all fairness, as his sister pointed out, no one is supposed to know. At least not yet. It’s treatable, she quickly adds, but it’s been eating her from the inside out for a couple years now. She tells him this with a straight face, probably because she’s had time to sit with it, but also because Rachel is great at keeping her feelings in check, when she knows someone else isn’t—Felix definitely fucking isn’t.

What was the saying? The artist is haunted by his own heart? Day and night. There’s never an escape, it seems, from anything.

“Tell me what I need to do,” he pleads after he calms down. “Money is not a problem.”

The older sibling grimaces at that. “It’s not about that, Lix. She has medication, she never misses a doctor’s appointment. Her body is weak.”

“She’s not dying.”

“It’s not something we can exactly stop because we want to.”

Felix clenches his fists on the table, and looks at his sister straight on. “She’s not dying.”

Rachel wipes her mouth and sips from her wine, alerting the waiter for the check. People are starting to stare. No matter where they go, eyes follow her little brother incessantly, whichever measures they take. It’s a lifestyle she cannot comprehend.

Felix doesn’t seem to notice, or care. It’s a strange thing, like a zoo animal being at peace with its captivity, despite its true nature.

“Maybe not now,” she replies softly. “But we all must face this one impending doom sooner or later, Lix. Even you. Even our mom. Death is a natural thing.”

Most people run from the inevitable, because it’s scary. Somehow, it’s believed that the end, too, could be overturned if we stall it, or cheat it. Felix never thought he’d have to worry about it, because of the invisibility of youth, and money, and having everything else at his beck and call. It was only when Kurt Cobain and Jeff Buckley died that he was touched by the cruelty of it, the dark shadows and the claws attacking through them any moving thing, at any given time. Even legends passed, even history.

It was because life was so impossibly fleeting, water held with two hands, that he decided to knock on your door. In a single moment of liquid luck, he wished to see the stars in your ceiling again. To feel the warmth of your skin near his. Chan would shake his head and call him an idiot for it, but Felix never claimed to be reasonable. Or smart.

No other car was in your driveway.

God, his blood is rushing. You’d open the door and then what? What would he say?

He didn’t want his mom to die. He didn’t want you to hate him forever. He came back with a false sense of ego—no one gave a flying fuck if he was famous, or best friends with Hope Sandoval and Chris Cornell, hell, even Jesus Christ himself. None of it mattered outside of the bubble he’d created for himself in America. He’s not from there. These people would follow him nowhere.

He feels stranded and alone, and it’s entitled and pathetic, and he’s fucking terrified.

Who is he besides his name and his money? Why does it matter so much?

The door opens. He’s holding his breath.

You gape. Then blink.

Another moment passes. He has to say something. Goddamnit, anything!

“(Y/N).”

You seem to snap out of it, then. As if you realize it’s, indeed, not a dream. Felix is really standing right in front of you, blonde hair, round honey eyes, constellations on his cheeks as prominent as ever.

It’s confusion you feel more than anything else. Anger has long passed.

“How long have you been here?” is the first thing you ask him, and you’re still not allowing him inside.

He doesn’t expect you to.

“On your doorstep? An hour.”

You blink again, and lean forward, surprised. He thinks that must not be what you asked him. His ears burn. Your chest rises and falls deeply.

“In Australia, Lix,” you elaborate, but he focuses on the way your voice sounds like saying his childhood nickname, a silly little thing that stuck and makes him feel eight all over again.

You’d fallen in the rose bushes with your bike, the thorns pricking your arms, and you’d called out for him, crying. Lix, Lix, Lix… The sweetest sound, a person worthy to help you. A different time. He’d spent the rest of his afternoon picking thorns out of your skin and tending to your cuts with his mom. Afterwards, you watched Home Alone 2: Lost in New York and ate a bowl full of caramel popcorn. His dad dropped you off, and Felix had insisted on sticking his head out of his bedroom window to shout a final goodnight to you.

You’d done the same, laughing. His bestest friend in the whole world.

He didn’t feel like that person anymore. He didn’t feel like anything anymore. Just a name, just a body.

“Fourteen days,” he replies, and he’s ashamed of it, because it should’ve been easier to come to you. It should’ve never been difficult, not with you. 

It was you, for fuck’s sake.

And then you ask him the one thing he has no answer to.

“Are you okay?”

You move for him to enter. It’s what he wanted, but his legs have no strength in them, he’s unable to lift them. He just stands in front of you, staring in those eyes he’s wanted to look into for so long, and it reminds him of all the times he laid in hotel beds trying to bring forward his memories of your features, writing them all down so he doesn’t forget. He wrote those songs to remember you, is what he wants to tell you, but he can’t, because it’d make him a coward, and he doesn’t think he can handle anymore truths tonight.

They call him an angel because of his face, but you’re the angelic one, you’ve always been, because there’s forgiveness in your tone. There’s warmth for him in you still, and it takes everything in him not to sweep you in his arms and cry out for you, for your heart.

He wants to tell you about Hyunjin, too, about his garden and his flowers. He wants to tell you he named one after you, the most beautiful. He kept that for himself as well.

Instead—

“I wanted to watch the stars on your ceiling.”

The possibility that you might’ve taken them down is devastating. He hopes inevitably.

His voice sounds rough, and the bags under his eyes are more pronounced than ever. You’ve never seen Felix like that, he looked so sickly. Paper thin, too. You wonder if that life over there caught up to him, if he allowed it to wash over everything you loved about him. He’s such a stripped down, quiet version of him right now, in front of you.

“I’ll make some milkshakes,” you nod towards the kitchen.

He finally lifts one leg, then the other. He enters, his heart dusting off, kickstarting.

They still taste the same. The furniture is the same, the pictures of him and you and your siblings are still on the wall. You haven’t erased him, you didn’t scorn him. It means everything to him.

It’s easier to find yourself if someone already knows who you are. If they’ve kept that image of you, and look at it from time to time. Felix never sees himself in photos, never actively seeks himself out. He just gives, and gives, and gives, hoping it’s enough, hoping that’s it, the one, we got it, thank you very much.

Perhaps it’s why he feels so drained nowadays. Perhaps that’s how Hyunjin felt.

“How are your parents?” he asks, hoping to make conversation, hoping to hear more of that voice he’s missed so fucking much.

You round the kitchen island, strawberry shake in hand, and sit right next to him, knee brushing his. Your legs are bare again, smooth. You’re wearing an olive green skirt and an oversized T-shirt. You look beautiful. You, the starry girl. You, the darling girl. You, the only version of girl he’s had in his mind since the dawn of time. Ring pop in the fifth grade, backyard wedding with a veil and all. His mother had cried, yours had baked the cake. His sister had married you.

There’s a question in your eyes now.

“They’re fine. Out celebrating their thirtieth anniversary or something crazy like that.”

It’s a wild thing, the laugh that escapes him. It stretches his face and curves his lips. It surprises both of you. He quickly looks at his chocolate milkshake, at the half eaten whipped cream at the top. He hears your soft exhale, the straw between your teeth.

“Good for them,” he says after a beat, and he means it.

“You…” Felix doesn’t dare look. He won’t. Your counter is marble, there are fresh lilies on top of it. “Are you staying a while?”

He nods. Struggles to swallow.

Then you sigh. The pretenses are down. He stiffens, wraps his fingers tighter around the glass. He braces, but he doesn’t know for what. Anything, he supposes. You could say anything, ask anything.

He just doesn’t know if he has any answers for you.

“Congrats on that Grammy,” you bump him with your elbow, your tone light. His eyes rise slightly to meet yours. You’re smiling.

He wants nothing more than to fall apart, right there. He doesn’t deserve any of it.

“It’s yours,” he mutters. “I was going to give it to you.”

“Me?” you ask incredulously. “It’s your song, Lix.”

He shakes his head once. “But it’s for you. I’d be nothing without you.”

The room goes silent. Felix thinks he’s done it, he’s said the wrong thing, pushed too much, you’re going to kick him out, once and for all, and he’s going to have to look at you from his rooftop for the rest of his stay, he’s going to have to live with himself, whatever’s left, whatever’s there, never to hear your voice, never a third chance—

“Do you usually say intense things like that?” You huff out a breath, and his own gets stuck in his throat. “I’m— No one’s ever said that to me before, Lix. Don’t just say stuff like that.”

Suddenly, six years have passed, and you’re both adults. Felix has had a whole other life, has met thousands and thousands of people, is a celebrity of great importance, a Grammy winner, a million seller, with more money than he will ever need, this unbelievable thing has happened to him, a dream, a fucking rainbow bubble, and you’ve stayed here.

You’re still the same. And you don’t think that’s worth mentioning. Worth praising. He wants to shake you awake, make you see why he’s dead inside, why he’s come back, why he’s lost his fucking mind.

“I’ve never lied to you,” he replies, his gaze meeting yours. “If I’d never met you, I would have never gone to America. I would’ve never left.”

Somehow, you’ve become a curse and a miracle. 

“Let’s go see the stars, Felix.”

Your room is the exact same, too. Not a single damn thing moved, the lace on your bed, the pink all around, the fairy lights by your window, the pictures above your desk, and then finally, if he lifts his head—

The hundreds of tiny stars sprinkled on your entire ceiling. Your dad had stuck them up there for you, after you’d gone to their bed crying, afraid of the dark and the storm outside. Now, with the lights off, you didn’t seem afraid anymore, but more so melancholic. It felt unreal to stand in this room with you. 

First time he’d made love to you was on that bed. First sleepover, first fort, first kiss, first song ever written.

He didn’t even realize he’d been crying, not until he felt your fingers wipe the wetness away, your hand slipping in his, pulling him towards the mattress. Before coming back, he didn’t have a bed of his own. Hotel’s have been temporary homes for him, the tour bus his sleepovers.

His chest hurt, his sadness so heavy it pulled him down. There was no fight left in him, no other reason not to fall on that bed with you, lay next to you just like all those years before.

They shone neon green, alien little stars where they didn’t belong. Like him. He blinked up at them and they greeted him every time. He held your hand tightly on his own, his vision blurry, shoulders touching yours. If it was hot, Felix couldn’t tell. His heartbeat was deafening, the magnitude of the moment swallowing him whole.

No matter what he did, what had happened, you took his hand and showed him the stars of his childhood. There’s no words to describe what that had felt like for someone like him, someone that had once been something entirely different, and had somehow reduced himself down to this, whatever it was.

Three versions of oneself is two versions too many. He hates himself for what he’s done.

“Are you okay, Lix?” you ask once more, nothing but a mere whisper, but he hears you.

He thinks he might even have an answer for you.

“I don’t think so, beautiful girl. I think I’ve made a mistake.”

“What do you mean?”

Felix sighs, puts an arm over his eyes. It’s enough, what he saw. It’s enough for a lifetime.

“Leaving you behind. Giving all of me away. Falling in love with a broken boy thinking I’ll be able to fix him. I can’t fix anyone, (Y/N). I can’t even fix my fucking self.”

You nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. The connection is still there, the tension in his gut. He’d love nothing more than to get you naked and have you whisper his name back, over and over, until he gets some sort of sense of reality back. But it wouldn’t be fair to you. He doesn’t even know if you’re single.

“No one’s holding anything over your head, Lix. Forgive yourself before it’s too late,” you mumble against his skin, raising goosebumps all over. Then you continue, “I’d be lying if I said I don’t still hate you sometimes. You’re going to leave again, anyway. It doesn’t matter.”

He turns to that immediately. Places a palm over your cheek and makes you look at him.

“It does matter. I don’t want you to hate me. I fucked up and I’ll regret it my whole life. There’s no amount of sorry’s I can say to you, sweet girl, that’ll make it all better. I know that. But I don’t want you to hate me.”

Quiet. Your pulse against his thigh. “You left.”

“I did.”

“That hurt me. All of us.”

Felix nodded, again and again. One truth harsher than the other. “I know.”

“To go fuck some model in New York and sing your little heart out to people that’ll never know who you truly are and how much you matter.”

There it was. The sacrifice of it all. Has it been worth it? Yes and no. Mostly no.

His lips curved with bitterness. “Yes,” he rasped.

“But now your songs are out there. Your beautiful voice is recognized.”

“Thank you.”

You buried your face in the mattress, crying onto strawberry sheets. He turned his body towards you, fingers tangling in your hair.

“You sold your own name.”

Dying would be less painful than you speaking all of his fears and wrong decisions outloud, in the one place untouched by misery.

“And I pay for that every day.”

“You’re not happy.”

He smiles when you search for his eyes. There are crystals on your cheeks, the cosmos hanging from your lips. “Not particularly, starry girl,” he retorts sadly.

“I’m not happy, either. What’s the point, then?”

It tore at him to know this. He imagined you were when he was far away. That you’d put him behind you, and continued on with your life, shining just as brightly as you always had. Lies are always easier in the moment. Just enough to get you through to the next. But never long term.

“Come with me,” he whispers in your hair. “See for yourself.”

“And get lost, too?” you snap back.

He shut his eyes tight, bit his tongue to lessen the blow. “Three months. I want to take you with me.”

“To the City of Angels.” A lyric of his, coming from your mouth. His heart leaped, and blossomed. You listen to his music. The music he’s written for you.

“You’ll fit right in,” he finishes, leaning into you. “You’ll find many like you, none like you.”

He felt your hesitancy, the need to pull away. He would do it for you, if he wasn’t so completely under your spell, willing to do anything for one more taste of you. Years in a place where he’s had to learn to get his way, have made him somewhat persuasive, a trait he’s not proud of, like many others.

The only girl he’s ever truly wanted is you. Burn him alive, then.

“God, I’m about to make a mistake,” you mutter before his mouth takes yours.

Hyunjin had asked about you. He wanted to know who you were, why you still had such a hold on him. Hyunjin had been possessive and jealous and sensitive with Felix. He felt deeply, loved deeply, and was very stubborn. He loved getting his way. The blonde tried to love him, gave him all he had, obliged to his every request, but ultimately—

Whatever was wrong with him ran too deep. It was impossible to love someone like him, yet so easy to fall, so easy to lose yourself. They’d done some work together, traveled to Paris and visited art museums. Hyunjin was a magnificent artist, a lonely soul. Felix could recognize that in him and still admit it was scary to be around him, scary in the way a rope feels under your bare feet, no ground underneath, no sense of security.

They broke up on a bench outside Sacré-Cœur, the decision to go back to Australia for an indefinite amount of time being too much for the model. There was still love there, there’d always be. Hyunjin taught him about the life he’d entered, how to navigate through it, to get what you want, and how to love unconditionally, how to become a slave for love, to seek it and to breathe it, and to feel it deep in your gut, with everything in you.

But it shouldn’t feel like that. It shouldn’t be all encompassing, choking, tying. It should feel like freedom, and this much Felix knew, because he’d felt it before.

Undressing you right now felt like that, the pearly gates welcoming him, the wings growing in his back. A map outlined but not quite yet explored, though he plans to change that. If you accept. If you agree to his proposal. His hands caress, his mouth following the fabric leaving your body, your breast, down to your stomach, your navel, your hip bone. 

He pulls your skirt down, revealing cotton, and lays you gently back down, his own body over yours, hiding you from view. Your fingers unzip and push, and Felix removes his shirt for you. He knows he’s not much to look at, but there’s lean muscle and a solid chest where you touch, making heat bloom right under your fingertips. He could write odes about how soft your skin is, how tender you’re treating him, as if he never left, as if he’s never done wrong by you, and for a minute he pretends.

Then your hand wraps around his cock and he loses all restrain.

“You can’t possibly be real, my girl, are you?” he mumbles against your cunt, before he hooks his arms underneath your legs and digs right into your wetness.

You moan and writhe, and he never complies. He holds you tighter, keeps you in place and has his way with you until you’re begging him to stop, crying for him to keep going, nails digging into his scalp, his shoulders, anywhere you can reach. Felix hasn’t eaten pussy in six months, hasn’t had yours in over five years, and he’s not about to give it up for anything in the fucking world. 

His tongue laps, it fucks you slowly, it makes sure to get you proper wet for him, his lips slurping on your clit afterwards, finding a pattern you seem to enjoy, sucking to bring your orgasm forward and licking to settle you down, to tease you, until finally you have enough of it, and you come all over his mouth, breathlessly, your thighs trapping his head between your legs.

“Just for me, for me, for me…” he repeats peppering kisses all over you, his arms pushing him up towards your mouth, meeting you halfway for an open mouthed kiss. “Will you come?” he asks, pumping his cock in his fist, aligning it with your entrance. “My sweet fucking girl, will you come?”

“I have,” you say, hiding your face in embarrassment. “I did.”

“Let me look at you,” as he pushes in. “Let me see you, baby.”

His hips start moving, his cock reaching deep inside you, the stretch incredible. He needs you near, closer, so he lifts you up and repositions himself, having you sit on him, fucking yourself on him how you like. You find a rhythm as he wraps himself around you, kissing your breast, sucking on your nipples, tugging at the ends of your hair. Anything he can touch, all for you. Your voice breaks, his name cut in half, and he thinks he likes it best like that, not one thing but two, muttered by you, the death of him once and for all.

“Will you come with me to California?” he asks again, clearer this time. “Will you let me have you like this under their sun?”

“Lix…” you collapse as he takes charge, pistoling up into your soaking cunt, his cock so deep inside, so fucking good. “Fuck, please. Just please.”

“You need to tell me,” he groans. “I need to know. You need to tell me.”

He pushes you forward again, not once unsticking you from himself, and fucks you into the mattress, hard and fast. He’s after your high, he needs to see you, needs to witness you fall apart because of him, the same way he does for you, his muse, his girl, under your stars. You kiss him and hold him near, sharing his breath, his chest rapidly falling and rising, cock ready to burst, heart ready to explode, and you’re near too, he can feel it in his gut, he can see how your back arches, how your breath hitches, how your eyes open wide, head thrown back—

“That’s it, there it is, do it. Do it, beautiful, come for me, come on, let me feel you, God, fuck—I’ll bust, too, I’ll—”

“Inside,” you moan, shaking in his arms. “Inside me.”

Felix growls and does as you say, fingers digging into your waist, cock buried, and his head falls on your stomach. He’s pretty sure he’s having a heart attack, but nothing matters. You’re underneath him, naked. You still love him. You haven’t said it but you don’t have to; he can feel it, he can feel it like his own pulse.

He fucks you through the ripples of your orgasm, and then he pulls out, kissing your temple, your breast on his chest. Whatever dreams are made out of, he’s convinced you’re it. His dream, a girl just for him, a girl he could pick out blindfolded from a crowd of thousands. He would always come back to you, because there’s simply no beginning to him if you’re not part of it.

And no end if you don’t come with him.

“Don’t be afraid to tell me no,” he whispers into the dark, the stars staring back. “I’ll understand. I’ll make it work, there’s no question about it. Not anymore.”

You’re quiet for a long time, but your lips kiss his jaw, his neck, his ear. He holds onto sanity because of that. Because he’s lying through his teeth, for the first time. He won’t understand. If you don’t come, he’s not sure he’ll be able to carry on with this persona he’s built. It will destroy him, take him down under.

That he’s sure of.

But he thinks of your precious heart. What it would be like to leave it all behind.

“I’ll come,” you say incredibly small, almost inaudible. “I’ll come if you want me there.”

Felix closes his eyes, relief washing over him. No more suffering, endless tossing and turning. He could finally have a life, maybe buy some property, make a house out of you. With you. With you. It sounded unachievable. A wish unable to be granted. Merely anything.

You’re breathing it all back to him.

“I need you there, starry girl. I love you.”

He feels you nod, but you don’t say it back. It cuts through him, but he understands. He doesn’t need to hear it, despite how desperate he is for it. It pours out of you, it started when you opened the door, and it continues to pour out now, with his cum gushing out of your cunt, your arm hugging him tightly, afraid to let go.

“Three months,” you say. “Please don’t make me regret it, Lix.”

tags. @ughbehavior, @cb97percent, @streetlight-s, @j-0ne25.

[clairvoyantae]

SHAMELESS FOR YOU • Kim Taehyung

part one | part two

pairing ➣ brother-in-law! Tae x married! reader

summary ➣ You were tired of your boring married life until one day, you met your handsome brother-in-law, the one you didn't even know about.

genre ➣ smut, angst, cheating

warnings ➣ NSFW (minors do not interact), angst, reader is married (obvi), cheating, public sex, fingering under the table, making out, Tae talks filthy, Tae enjoys making reader needy, he is also really cruel/ a tease (ig), choking, even more fingering

Word count • 2k words

You thought that the idea of getting married would be good as it could kill your loneliness and your husband also seemed loving and caring at the start of your marriage.

But boy, were you wrong.

He was always too busy with work to pay attention to your needs, and whenever you tried to talk to him, he brushed you off saying that he was busy or that he was working for you.

You were losing your mind, you just wanted love and attention but your husband never gave it to you.

But one day, everything changed.

You heard the doorbell ring and went to open the door.

Opening the door, you saw a man, who looked like your husband, but better.

He smiled at you and you asked, "Hey, can I help you?" with a polite tone. "Guess you don't me, I'm Taehyung, your husband's brother" he said as the smile was still on his face but it had a hint of sadness.

Confusion was visible on your face. Neither your husband nor his parents had ever mentioned about him having a brother and you also didn't see him at your wedding. "You might be wondering why you've never heard about me before, aren't you?" he asked and you nodded. "It's because my family and I don't really get along" he said with a sigh.

"I'll take my leave now, it was nice seeing you in person Y/n" he said and was about to turn to leave but you lost your balance and fell in his arms.

That's where everything started.

He held onto you tightly, leaving no space between your bodies.

Your lips were inches apart and you could feel his hot breath on your neck.

Fuck, it was driving you insane.

The tension was palpable in the air and your breaths were uneven because of the closeness.

Both of you didn't say anything. Just the sound of the sound of both of yours uneven breaths and quickened heartbeats could be heard.

You both stood frozen in your spot, not knowing what to do.

He wanted to fuck you until you begged him to stop, but you were married to his brother at the end of the day.

He let go of you and you fixed your posture. But, being out of his arms gave you an empty feeling and you just wanted to be held by him once again.

"I'll take my leave now, darling" he said and came closer to your face "Unless, you don't want me to" he whispered in your ear and kissed your cheek, making shivers run down your spine.

He got away from your face and smirked. But soon his expression turned serious. "Don't tell anyone that I came here, okay?" He asked and you nodded.

He gave you another kiss on your cheek and left.

A Day Later

"Y/n get ready, we're going to mom and dad's house for dinner" your husband said and you mumbled an okay to him.

While you were getting ready, all you could think about was Taehyung. Numerous questions about him flooded in your mind.

You entered their house and your mother in law smiled at you and came to you.

But your eyes were searching for him and you saw him, walking down the stairs, fixing his shirt.

Your eyes met his and he winked at you.

As soon as he was downstairs, your husband took your hand and guided you to Taehyung.

This is where you had to start acting like you were meeting him for the first time.

"Y/n, this is my brother, Taehyung" your husband said. "We didn't really get along that's why you never heard about him, but I want to fix everything" he continued, smiling at Taehyung.

'Everything's about to be even more ruined, dear brother' Taehyung looked at you and thought.

He knew that you wanted him as much as he wanted you, or even more.

He knew that his brother was a workaholic and never thought about anything else than his work. He was sure that his brother wasn't paying attention to you and was neglecting your needs.

But, he was there now and he wouldn't leave you until he showed you heaven, at least.

Everyone sat down on the dining table. Your husband sat in front of you and Taehyung sat next to you. Your mother in law sat next to Taehyung and in front of your father in law.

"Y/n, can you check on the chicken, that's in the oven?" your mother in law asked "Of course" you smiled and went to the kitchen.

"Mom, I'll grab a glass of water from the kitchen" Taehyung made up an excuse so he could talk to you. "I'll ask Y/n to grab it for you" she said. "No mom, it's okay, I'll get it myself" he said and went to the kitchen.

You were about to go to the dining room when you felt someone hugging you from behind. "Y/n, it's me, Taehyung" he whispered in your ear.

"What are you doing here?" you asked "I wanted to talk to you" he said "About what?" "About us"

"What about us? You're just my brother in law" you said.

"We both know that it's not true, don't lie, Y/n" he said.

And, he was right.

He was the only thing in your mind the whole day after that incident.

"I know you are also thinking about me, just how I am about you" he said "Yes I am. But, you're my husband's brother for fuck's sake, Taehyung" you said.

"The same husband who doesn't know anything else other than his work, also the one who neglects the needs of a wife this beautiful" he said "H-how do you know?" you asked.

"First of all, he's my brother and second of all, the way you were looking at me wasn't the look of a happy wife, also how you weren't letting go of me" he said and left little kisses on your neck, and shivers ran down your spine once again.

Fuck, his touch felt too good.

He turned you around and lifted your chin up, so your eyes could meet his.

His eyes screamed his need for you and you knew your eyes were reciprocating it.

His fingers made circles on your waist, leaving a burning sensation with every touch. "I'll show you heaven, my love. All you have to do is say" he said.

"Fuck it"

"Show me heaven, Kim Taehyung"

He smirked and his fingers wrapped around your throat. You could hardly breathe but it felt like his grip on your throat was the only thing keeping you stable.

He pinned you against the refrigerator, making sure to make no noise because your family was sitting in the next room.

You both leaned in and were about to kiss, but the oven beeped, indicating the chicken was ready.

"Fuck this oven" he cursed the oven, making you chuckle.

You got out of the kitchen first, bringing out the chicken.

"What took you so long, Y/n?" your husband asked. "There were only a few minutes left so I thought that I'll just come after it was ready" you said. "Thank you so much, Y/n" your mother in law said. You felt bad for what you were actually doing in the kitchen.

You sat down and Taehyung came and sat next to you. "Tae, what took you so long?" Your mother in law asked "My hair was a mess, so I was just fixing it" Taehyung replied.

Everyone was focusing on eating dinner when you felt a hand on your thigh. You know it was Taehyung's and you were thinking what he was going to do next.

His hand travelled from your thighs to your stomach and then to your center.

You were wet, from everything that had happened a few minutes ago.

His slid a finger inside you and you almost moaned.

You couldn't focus on eating because of the magic his finger was doing to you.

It was getting harder and harder for you to control your moans with each thrust of his finger.

You tried to eat but you couldn't. It was surprising to you how he acted like everything was normal.

You arched your back, allowing his finger to go in deeper.

"Y/n, what happened? Why aren't you eating?" your mother in law asked and a light hiss left your mouth.

You knew that Taehyung was enjoying it. "N-nothing, just my head hurts a little" you said, while you came on Taehyung's hand.

He took his finger out of you and touched your forehead with the other hand, pretending to check if you had a fever. "Your temperature is normal, maybe you're feeling nauseous" he said.

"Yeah, maybe" you said. "Why don't you two stay here for tonight, your house is really far away and I think it would be the best for Y/n" your mother in law suggested. "I think we can do that, what do you say, Y/n?" your husband asked.

"I don't have any problem" you said. From the inside, you were happy, because you could spend more time with Taehyung.

"Okay then you both are staying here" your mother in law said.

You had changed and were in the room with your husband, who was sleeping peacefully.

But you weren't at peace at all. You wanted even more.

You were standing at the door Taehyung's room and knocked.

He opened the door, and smirked seeing you there. "I knew you would come to me, baby" he said and pulled you inside.

He pinned you against the wall and wrapped his fingers around your throat once again. "You were such a good little liar for me out there baby" he praised you. "That's why you deserve a little reward" he said and smashed his lips on yours.

This was the best kiss that you've had in your whole life. Your hands entangled in his black locs, pulling him deeper.

He picked you up and your legs wrapped around his torso. He took off your clothes, leaving you in just your underwear.

He took you on his bed and laid you down, breaking the kiss as you both panted heavily.

He took off your panties and slid his middle finger inside you. "Scream as much as you want, my angel, no one besides me can hear you here" he said and thrust his finger inside you at a really slow pace.

The pace of his thrusts was torturous but pleasurable. He slid another finger inside you and increased his pace making you let out a string of moans.

"Did your husband make you feel like this?" he asked. "N-no, only you" you said.

He kept thrusting his fingers inside you until you came.

He captured your lips in a kiss after you came.

"Get dressed and get back to your husband, baby" he said and got away from you.

"What?" you asked. "You heard me, darling. If you want more, you have to wait" he said and smirked. "Are you serious?" "Very" he said

"I think you should go to your room, because what will your husband think if he finds you sleeping with me on my bed, hmm?" He asked, while cleaning you up with a tissue.

"I think you're right" you said, while dressing yourself.

He kissed you for the last time. "Have some patience, my baby" he said and smiled, then you went to your room.

[thebisexualdogdad]

An eventful holiday - Thea Queen x Male!reader

A/N: based off the 1x09 holiday episode because I've started a DC show rewatch and forgot how much of a crush I used to have on Thea

When Oliver came back from the dead he had a lot of new things he had to adjust to, one of the hardest being that his little sister who was only twelve the last time he saw her was now seventeen with a boyfriend.

He wanted an opportunity to bring his family closer after learning they stopped celebrating Christmas when he and his father went missing so Oliver planned a big Christmas party to make up for lost time.

However he didn't expect you to be invited as Thea's plus one.

He, Thea, Moira and Walter just got their photo taken when you walk in holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Hi, uh Thea invited me," you say seeing the angry look on Oliver's face, "Mrs. Queen these are for you."

You hand Moira the flowers and she thanks you, Thea kissing you on the cheek and showing you to the food table.

"I didn't get a chance to tell you how amazing you look tonight," you smile, grabbing a christmas cookie and taking a bite of it.

"You clean up pretty nice yourself," she says, drinking a glass of champagne and taking in the sight of you in your suit.

"Well I wanted to impress your brother, I don't think he likes me very much," you admit.

"Because he doesn't know you and he still doesn't want to believe I'm not a little kid anymore," she tells you.

"Maybe we should hang out sometime, just the three of us so he and I can actually get to know each other," you suggest.

"You're putting in a lot of effort to get the approval of my brother," she chuckles.

"That's because I love you, I want him to know that I'm serious about us and would never do anything to hurt you."

Thea smiles and kisses you sweetly, putting her empty glass down on the table, "I love you too and I think we should go upstairs for some privacy so I can give you your christmas present."

"But we exchanged gifts already," You say confused as you and Thea had a small get together with your family a few days prior.

"This is the part of your gift that I couldn't give you in front of your parents," she grins.

You had no idea what was in store for you but you quickly down a glass of champagne as she takes your hand and guides you towards the stairs.

Oliver sees this and glares at you, about to follow you two with intentions of kicking you out of the party but his mother puts her hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Let them be Oliver," Moira says calmly.

"You're really okay with what they are going to do up there?" Oliver huffs.

"They are young and in love, in case you've forgotten your father and I tried to stop you sneaking around with girls when you were their age and yet you still always found a way," she chuckles.

"She's not ready to be in a relationship this serious," Oliver states.

"And you were?" Moira laughs, "you have to accept that Thea is not the same twelve year old she was when you left."

"Excuse me mom, I need to get some air," Oliver sighs, heading to the front door.

Meanwhile upstairs you are sitting on Thea's bed as she locks her door, sauntering towards you and climbing in your lap.

"Go ahead and unzip my dress," she says and you reach up, pulling the zipper down her chest to reveal the black lacy bra she has underneath.

"Wow," you mutter, the top of her dress falling off her shoulders and bunching around her waist.

"You like it?" She asks it.

"You are so beautiful Thea," you say putting your hands on her waist and kissing her deeply.

The kiss intensifies, Thea slipping your suit jacket off and tossing it to the floor before unbuttoning your shirt.

You pick her up and flip her over, letting her get comfortable against the pillows.

Thea moans softly as you kiss down her neck and along her chest while pulling her dress the rest of the way off her body exposing the lacy black panties that matched her bra.

"Merry Christmas Y/N," she says, biting her lip.

"This just may be the best gift I've ever received," you mutter, your lips traveling along her stomach which results in her hips rocking up for any form of friction.

You spend a while exploring her body and working her up, fully enjoying your gift, your fingers are gently rubbing her over the lace and her arousal is starting to soak through the material so you finally rid her of it.

You stand up and remove the rest of your clothes as well but look around, "Wait where's my jacket?"

You spot it on the floor and dig around in the inside pocket pulling a condom out.

"Were you expecting to get laid tonight?" Thea teases as she lifts her chest up to unclip her bra and tosses it aside.

"Not at all but it's always better to be prepared right," you chuckle, taking the condom out and rolling it on.

You reposition yourself back on top of her, spreading her legs apart and settling in between them.

Thea gasps when you ease the tip of your cock inside her, slowly pushing it the rest of the way in.

"Does this feel okay?" You ask and she nods.

You give a few rolls of your hips so she has a chance to adjust before you find a more steady rhythm.

She throws her head back, her chest in the air so you take the opportunity to nip at her neck and collarbones.

"Just like that," she moans, grasping at the sheets under her.

After a few minutes she feels her release approaching and reaches down, rubbing firm circles over her clit.

"I'm so close," she groans.

"Me too," you grunt, picking up the pace.

With just a few more thrusts Thea is cumming, her walls tightening around your cock and her eyes rolling back.

Seeing her like this takes you over the edge as well, riding out your highs together.

After cleaning yourselves up you're blissfully laying naked in her bed, a sheet loosely around your waists with her head on your chest when there's an urgent knocking on her door.

"Thea make yourself decent quickly, Diggle just called and Oliver's been in a motorcycle accident we need to go to the hospital right away," her mother says through the door with an obvious worry in her voice.

"Oh my god," Thea says, jumping out of bed and grabbing her clothes off the floor.

"Hey, what can I do for you?" You ask trying to comfort her as you both get redressed.

Thea opens her door surprised to see her mom is still standing there.

"Y/N you can help by seeing our guests out after we leave," Moira says.

"Of course Mrs. Queen," you say awkwardly, pulling your suit jacket on and kissing Thea's forehead before heading downstairs.

"Walter is bringing the car around," Moira says as they follow suit, "and Thea dear fix your dress, I do hope you two were using protection in there."

"Mom now is not the time for that!" Thea yelps in embarrassment realizing her dress is still half unzipped.

Well this certainly was the most eventful holiday Thea has had in a long time.

[drewsbuzzcut]

Forever Doesn’t Measure

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

Part 3 here

warnings: angst, crying, pregnancy, small argument, and I think that’s all

You sit at the island bar, basking in the sweet sounds of Nolan laughing along with Mat. He’s laid out on the rug, the boy playing with cars and using Mat as a racing track. All while AJ is sleeping peacefully in the pack and play. It transports you back to certain moments of happiness, moments you wish you could always live in.

You make eye contact with Mat and it’s like he takes a skinny dip inside your mind, because he gives you a longing smile. You can see it in his eyes that he knows what you’re thinking about.

The peace doesn’t last too long when AJ wakes up in tears; it’s his feeding time. You’re quick to settle on the couch, your baby boy nestled in your arms under a blanket, happily sucking away. It’s your last month of breastfeeding before weaning him off, knowing that he can’t just not visit with Mat during his allotted time.

You focus on Angel’s blond hair and soft cheeks, distracting yourself from thinking about how you were once a married mom, but now a single one.

Mat’s body sitting beside you on the couch makes you look away from the baby. He peers at you with a softness that you’ve almost forgotten.

“Hey, thanks for inviting me. It really means a lot to be here with the boys and you,” he says, knowing that spending the Christmas holiday together is important.

You honestly didn’t want to because almost 2 weeks ago you were tagged in pictures of him and a girl together, who you assumed was his friend from home. However, the thought of your boys not seeing their father took away all your anger. You didn’t need to ruin their lives even more.

“The boys miss you a lot, and it isn’t fair to them for you not to be here.”

“I miss them, too, everyday. I miss being on morning duty. Believe it or not, it’s one of my favorite parts of being a parent,” he admits. You faintly smile, thinking about all the times Mat would come back to bed with either one of his twins or both.

“You still have morning duty,” you point out, your free hands brushing AJ’s hair to avoid reaching out for Mat.

“Yeah, for like every other week. It’s not the same. Especially because you’re not there with me,” your heart hurts at his words.

“Is this your way of saying you miss me?” You tease, desire taking over when your hand reaches out to brush his hair away from his forehead.

“Of course I miss you,” he says simply, holding your hand in his. The way his thumb sweeps over your knuckles is pure bliss.

You tilt your head towards him while letting it rest back against the couch, eyelashes fluttering and eyes glued on him. Your innocent looks breaks him down into mush.

“I miss you, too,” you say, growing shy and looking down to avoid his stare. He only guides your face to his, lips connecting in a blurring passion. You try to lean into him, but with your baby pressed to your chest, it’s kind of hard. Mat does the job, though, scooting close to you to the point you’re practically wrapped in his arms.

Your tongue seeks entrance to his mouth, prodding the seam of his lips to make its way to dance with his tongue. You have the innate need to explore his mouth as you haven’t done so in a while. He feels the same way.

“Daddy! Daddy, look!” Nolan’s shouts make the both of you jump away from each other, in a state of shock at what just happened.

“Wow, little man! That’s so cool,” Mat clears his throat before complimenting Nolan’s favorite toy that he’s showing off.

“Um… I need to burp Angel and put him down for a nap. I’ll be back,” you mutter before scurrying upstairs.

The second you’re gone, Mat notices your phone going off, and without thinking about it, he picks it up to see who messaged you.

Tito: Happy holidays! I’m so glad we finally got to see you and the boys. Angel is perfect. I miss you guys. Hopefully we can have another visit soon.

Mat frowns at the message, not aware that you flew to Vancouver to visit Anthony.

“AJ went to sleep right away. I swear I can just watch him sleep all the time,” you gush, not knowing what you’re walking into.

“You went to Vancouver?” He asks immediately, catching you off guard.

Your mouth opens and closes, truly not knowing what to say.

“Um… yeah. I took the boys to go visit Tito and Emma. It was only for a few days,” you say softly.

“How could you?” Mat asks incredulously.

“What’s the big deal?”

“We were supposed to introduce Angel to them together,” he reminds you of the detail you stupidly ignored.

“Well, we aren’t together anymore, so it shouldn’t matter,” your voice is in a whisper, hoping that Mat will get the hint to not yell.

“It does matter. He’s my best friend, not yours,” he spits out.

You fight the tears willing to slip down your cheeks.

“I’m tired of you saying hurtful things to me! I’m tired of you breaking my heart,” he tells you.

“Breaking your heart? What about the girl you went on a date with? Huh? That friend from home? Yeah, I saw those pictures of you two together,” you inform him.

“It wasn’t a date! She is a friend from home, one that has a girlfriend, but I guess you didn’t see her in those pictures. And what does it matter if I was on a date, we’re not together anymore,” he throws your words in your face.

Your hands gravitate to your stomach out of instinct, holding on to the soon to be last piece of Mat that you’ll ever have. You can feel your heart cracking, knowing that most of this is your fault. You’re the one to blame.

“You’re right. It doesn’t matter. You’re free to date whoever you want. I’m sorry for saying hurtful things to you. I don’t hate you, I hate myself. Excuse me, but I think I’m going to take a nap. I’ll be down in time for dinner, just please watch Nols and keep an ear out for Angel,” you whisper, voice hoarse and ego crumbled.

You drag yourself upstairs, heading to your closet to pull on a large hoodie that you sneakily took from Mat before you moved out. Undressing out of your outfit, you put your hair up in a messy bun, and cuddle into your bed. Sleep takes over your body in less than a second. You hope you have dreams of your family being all together again.

Mat’s upset with himself for making you cry. To keep the picture of you heartbroken out of his mind, he starts completing miscellaneous tasks around the house, something he knows you’d appreciate. He’s lucky to get Nolan down for a nap even if it’s for 20 minutes. He takes a load of laundry upstairs to fold and put away. As he’s putting some of your clothes in your drawer he finds your paperwork confirming your pregnancy. To say he’s shocked is an understatement. A flurry of thoughts rush through his mind, tears starting to cloud his eyes at the secret you’ve been keeping. He’s not upset with you for not telling him, but at the fact that he has been missing out on the journey so far.

He exits your walk-in closet, coming face to face with your sleeping form. No one can stop him as he strides over to what would be your side of the bed- you’re asleep on his side -and lets his body sink next to yours. You’re on your side, facing away from him, so once he settles he nudges your body to turn into his hold. Your face connects with his chest, an arm holding onto him while one of your legs tangles with his. Eventually you end up on top of him, the natural instinct taking over. Besides, his warmth is to die for.

He allows his fingers to card through your mess bun; the urge to comfort you, strong. He watches your features as they are contorted into something resembling peace. You never see it, but Angel and Nolan look like you when you’re asleep. Both boys share that same blissful smile with you when sleep takes over. Mat first noticed it when Nolan was around one year old, and now he sees it all the time.

Light, pounding footsteps alert Mat, Nolan is making his way to the room.

“Mommy?”

“Mommy is sleeping, buddy. What’s up?”

“I hungry!”

“I know. We’ll start dinner in a little bit. Why don’t you lay with me for a bit,” Mat makes enough room for Nolan to cuddle with you both, you ending back on Mat’s side, facing him while your arms are still around him.

His eyes start to sting, thinking about another baby with you. He is so excited. His hand travels to your stomach, alerting you in the process. Your eyes pop open and you stare into his beautiful eyes. You know he knows. It’s as if anything but you touched your stomach, you immediately go into protective mode.

“Another baby, eh?”

“Another baby,” you confirm. He just smiles, eyes closed and lips closed, but the smile is so happy and a little smug.

Your one arm falls to rest around his waist, relishing in the small contact you have with his bare skin from where his shirt rides up.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t,” you shake your head fast and repeatedly, swearing away the thoughts of telling him before this moment. “I just couldn’t tell you. We had just broken up, and I was so shocked about the news. I just didn’t want to disappoint you even more. Even Tito said I should wait,” you say rushing through your words.

Mat’s face falls and for a minute you’re confused until you realize why. You told Tito before Mat.

No no no.

“You told Tito before me?” He asks surprised and hurt, immediately getting up and your hand latches into his waist to keep him close to you, but he’s stronger and upset. He rips himself out of your hold, disturbing Nolan in the process.

He stands, pacing a bit, one hand through the hair and the other rubbing at his neck. Those actions stop when he realizes Nolan is watching his every move, so he picks up Nolan as if he’s a protective blanket, constantly playing with his hair and kissing his head.

“Don’t be mad at Tito, please. It was word vomit. I didn’t mean to actually tell him,” you explain.

“But you still did,” Mat finishes, walking downstairs and leaving you alone with more guilt than you can handle.

You stay in bed for no more than 10 minutes, forcing yourself to get up and attend to Angel. Once he’s all changed and settled, you make your way downstairs. The air is tense beyond measure. Mat is prepping the kitchen, but takes over with AJ to let you cook as he isn’t the best.

From the time of cooking and preparing to eating, everything is silent except for the scrapes of the utensils against the plates and chewing.

Mat sits across from you, holding Angel in his lap. He’s so small compared to Mat’s arms. You start to think about just how much time Angel is missing out with him and vice versa. That’s how it’ll most likely be with the new baby, too. You don’t even realize your tears are falling until Mat is seating himself next to you to comfort you. You can only push yourself away from him. You don’t deserve his affection.

“I love you. Don’t push me away,” he whispers in your ear.

You only shake your head in response, and for the rest of dinner, you’re both silent, just watching the boys.

As you and Mat clean up around each other, you ponder how things should go from here. How will it work with you being pregnant? At the sink, you feel his arms cage you in. His tall, strong frame surrounds you. His breath flows out his mouth and down the back of your neck. You ward off the chills that sensation brings you. His head leans down, forehead resting on your shoulder. His hands move to rest on your stomach. It’s at that moment when you break down completely. Your body goes limp as your silent cries take over, but his body flows seamlessly with yours, so he has you in his hold before you hit the ground.

“Don’t do this, Mat,” you say.

“Don’t do what?” His face frowns in confusion, eyes searching desperately for yours for a clue.

“Don’t forgive me or love me just because I’m pregnant. I don’t want you to be with me for the sake of the kids,” you sob out.

“What about wanting to be together for the sake of us? I love you and I will never stop loving you,” he says so sure.

You turn to look at him when you feel droplets hitting your blouse and soaking your skin through the fabric.

“You’re breaking my heart. Please don’t,” he mutters.

“I love you,” you say for the first time in what feels like forever.

“I love you.”

“I want to be with you. Please. I want you. I want our family. I fucked up so badly. I don’t hate you. I love you. I overreacted about the whole nanny situation and I’m a fucking mess, but I need you. I want you,” you practically chant as you break through your stubborn walls.

“You didn’t overreact. I was being an asshole. I’m sorry. I love you. I want you. I want our family,” he says, sealing his lips to yours. It’s a kiss that can bring you back to life. A kiss that only gives you that fleeting emotion. A kiss that only Mat can give you.

“Mommy?” You hear Nolan calling out for you, so you break away from Mat.

He looks at you with a hint of worry, but more loving than anything.

“You ‘kay?” He forces himself between you and Mat, your face held in between his little hands. He looks at you with a look that you’ve only ever see on Mat when he’s making sure everything is good.

“Yes, baby. Mommy is okay. Mommy is happy,” you breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that you aren’t lying anymore. Pulling yourself off the ground with help from Mat and your little man, you bring all your boys into your arms on the couch. You feel like you can finally breathe again.

You and Mat make eye contact once more, fighting and breaking through each other’s walls- even though yours are more of a struggle to get through. You hate the way you treated him over the few months of separation, but there is nothing more healing than love being shared, love being felt, and love being created.

a/n: I’m so sorry this took long, but I hope you all love it! Thank you all for all the love and kind words<3

taglist: @literatureluster

[urdepressedslut]

The Girl and Her Golden Boys

⇨ Chapter One: The Bells

♡ Pairing: 40’s!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, 40’s!Platonic!Pre-Serum!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

♡ Chapter Summary: You find yourself back in your hometown, unfortunately it’s for the passing of Sarah Rogers. You meet up with your boys, as it’s been awhile since you’ve last seen them.

♡ Chapter Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of parent death

Italics are flashbacks

You hadn’t gotten through a full year of Boarding School, when you had heard Sarah Rogers had passed. Growing up she had raised you when your Father was absent, which was a lot of the time. She became the Mother figure you needed, being a girl and all, it was important to have a woman guide you. Hearing that she had passed was devastating, feeling like you were losing your true Mother all over again.

Your Father had picked you up, and the two of you were now headed to the funeral. Silence filled the car, not many words ever spoken between him and you, that’s just how things were after your Mom had died. The usual tension that came with the silence, wasn’t noticed by you, as your mind swirled with thoughts. Specifically, Steve Rogers.

Your heart ached for him, knowing how badly he must be hurting. Losing a parent was a bond being torn, and no matter the years gone by, you will always wonder if they’ll come back. If maybe, just maybe— that bond will amble.

You knew it was vital that you be here for Steve, knowing what it like to lose a parent, you would try and make sure he didn’t lose himself like you did.

Steve was your first friend in school. Fourth grade, you remember a tiny boy tripping through the doorway of your school, his books flying everywhere, pages folding unnaturally.

☆

You were quick to collect his books, and help him back to his feet, pulling him to the side to dust off his now dirtied pants. He was slightly embarrassed, watching you clean him off like his mother would. You on the other hand, didn’t realize you were crossing a line, instead acted out of pure instinct.

“T-thanks… My shoes are a little too big. Hard to walk in them sometimes.” He told you bashfully.

“That’s okay, you’ll grow into them eventually,” You assured him, sticking out your hand, “I’m (Y/n)!”

Steve smiled at your kindness, grabbing your hand with a shake.

“I’m Steve, happy to meet someone nice on the first day of school.”

“I know it’s scary, but you’ve got me now! I promise I won’t let you trip… Again.” You declared, handing him his books back, all stacked nicely.

Steve giggled and smiled, excited that he had found a friend.

☆

Steve had become more of a brother to you as you two had grown. Although you two didn’t get along as well as you first did, you two still loved each other and would never go to bed angry. At least, that’s what Sarah would tell us.

The car halted to a stop, alerting you that you had arrived at the cemetery. Knots formed in your stomach suddenly, Sarah’s passing fully hitting you now. You wanted to stay strong for Steve, you didn’t want him to see you upset. You wanted the focus to stay on Steve, he was the one who deserved all the love today. But the closer you were getting to the group of sniffling people, your walls started to crumble.

You scanned the small crowd, spotting Steve standing next to Bucky. You had a good assumption Buck was trying to convince Steve to stay with him and his family, but Steve being stubborn, you knew that was going to be war.

You smiled at the closeness of the two, the brother bond always warming your heart. Steve needs someone like Bucky, and Bucky needs Steve just as much.

Before you were away at Boarding School, you were here with the boys. It was you three versus the world, going on adventures, getting in trouble, and sometimes getting hurt together. You didn’t care what mess you got yourselves into, as long as it was one of them that was putting the bandaid on.

Quietly letting your Father know you were headed over to the boys, you walked silently, keeping your head down, trying to swallow down the lump forming in your throat.

You stopped some feet away, glancing at the both of their glum faces. You started towards Steve first, not saying a word as you embraced him in a tight, needed hug. Steve closed his eyes, relishing in your comforting embrace that he had missed so much. He patted your back appreciatively, both of you stepping away from each other.

“Let me guess, you’re here to say you’re sorry for my loss too.” Steve mumbled sarcastically, his eyes vacant and unfocused.

Frowning at his words, you fiddled with the ends of your dress, and cleared your throat.

“I don’t think anything I say is going to make you feel better right now. I’m here because my friend needs me, that’s it.” You explained softly, watching his eyebrows raise slightly in appreciation.

Steve opened his mouth to respond but his eyes went dull again, and he closed it. Attempting to blink away the oncoming tears, he excused himself, choosing to stand farther away to give himself a moment.

You watched with worried eyes, not wanting to let him walk away, but knowing that he needs time to himself.

“You being here means the world to him, ya know.” Bucky spoke finally, breaking your gaze from Steve. You met his eyes and forced a smile, walking towards him slowly.

He opened his arms, caging you in his protective embrace. You looped your arms around his lower back, pulling him closer, if that was even possible. Your face was smushed into his chest, but it didn’t stop your eyes from tearing up, your nose burning.

“I’m trying to be strong for him but… It’s h-hard.” You whimpered out, your voice wavering by the end.

Bucky rubbed your back soothingly with one hand, while the other cradled the back of your head.

“I know Doll, I know. You can let it out.” He whispered, holding you tight as your body shook with quiet sobs.

Bucky always had this this effect on you, he was able to bring your guard down. You blamed it on the fact that his embrace always felt so safe, always feeling like it was just you and him. Bucky was the oldest and protected you and Steve growing up, of course you saw him as a hero. But you knew there was something deeper to the connection, but you never spoke up about it. You valued the friendship too much to risk putting your feelings out there.

Your sobs died down, just as quick as they had started. Bucky’s aura alone, making you feel better.

“Thank you Buck.” You mumbled into his chest, and he chuckled.

“No need, you know I’m always here for you.” He told you, making you lift your face from his chest to meet his gaze.

“I know.” You whispered, smushing your face back into his chest, wishing you could stay here forever.

Approaching footsteps got both you and Bucky’s attention. Glancing to the direction where they came from, Steve was walking back, wiping his eyes dry.

Breaking apart from Bucky, you focused back on Steve.

“Hey Stevie, ya ready?” You asked him softly.

Steve knew you were talking about the burial, which he didn’t feel he’d ever be ready. But he glanced to you, then to Bucky and he felt safe. He wasn’t alone, he had his family right here.

“I guess.” Steve muttered, starting to walk but slowed his pace when he felt you intertwine your fingers through his.

You and Steve were hand in hand, when suddenly you felt your right hand being laced with Bucky’s fingers. Glancing over to him, you met his soft eyes, and you felt your cheeks heat up.

Steve watched from the far left as you and Bucky gazed into each others eyes for a split second, and for the first time today, Steve smiled.

The three of you all made your way to the small crowd, holding hands, keeping each other grounded.

As long as you had each other, everything was going to be okay.

A/N: 40’s buck and steve hold such a special place in my heart and i felt i had to start a series set in the 40’s. a lot of this series i want to be domestic stuff, but eventually it will be full of drama and hydra EWW. i’m excited to see where this might go, let me know what you think🤍

[writerofweird]

confessionsofcaine.doc

The following document was sent to me by a former employee of C&A who wishes to remain anonymous.

It is 8,335 words long and also includes death, violence, implied enbyphobia, murder and suicide. It also includes characters originally created by Gooseworx, Glitch Productions and The East Patch, which the author does not own and has written this story as a tribute to the creators and their works. Please support the original creators.

Out of respect for Gooseworx and her plans for The Amazing Digital Circus and its story, this is set in an alternate continuity. The pilot episode and bits and pieces from her Tumblr and the previews are still a part of it.

For one thing, you can be assured that I won’t start this document with “Roll up, roll up” or “Welcome to the Marvellous Show of My Mind” or anything of that nature. There's no more show and it’s time for me to clean the popcorn from the seats.

The time for performances is over.

Or is it? This is a document I am not writing with a keyboard, but with my own control over the computer. I do hope it will be coherent.

Every day’s a new adventure with C&A’s The Amazing Digital Circus. Overseen by Caine, the helpful and wacky ringmaster, The Amazing Digital Circus allows players to experience the fun first hand, as they take on the role of the newest toy in the toybox and explore various settings, accomplishing various activities along the way.

The Amazing Digital Circus is the brainchild of Albert and Eva Adams, the founders of C&A, which they named after themselves and Caine, the character they created to be their mascot. Albert and Eva sadly passed away

Eva and Albert…Mom and Dad…had even planned to give the program to hospitals for free, to allow certain patients to enjoy themselves in their final moments, and they claimed that their technology had the ability to prolong lives.

I regret to say the goal was always to transfer a human’s mind to the circus, but it was supposed to be placed back into the human’s body when they were ready. There would be an Exit Door they would walk through that would place their minds back into their bodies.

As much as I joked with my past wards about my “baby pictures”, I had no childhood. I never went to school; everything I know was just jammed into what could be called a head, and I managed to learn more from observation. Still, Albert was my father and Eva was my mother. They worked in tandem to design my form, teach me what I had to learn and to program my abilities. I could conjure up games and rides from artificial air as that was what they wanted me to do. My cane, my little creatures for players to conquer, even my little sidekick Bubble, I had them because my mother and father wanted me to have them.

They even made me their company’s mascot, the honour! In fact, my name was first! Caine and Adams! C&A!

some idiots think it’s caine and abby

A statue in my likeness guided guests to the entrance of the offices, and every game – every game that wasn’t The Amazing Digital Circus – began with me placing the company’s logo on the screen, fixing it on and then placing my gloved hand onto my teeth and taking it off with a “Mwa!”

No, that wasn’t me. It was an effigy of me.

It was a non-sentient copy of me like

But I was not an only child.

Mum and Dad also had a flesh-and-blood child, a daughter named Abigail. She was the offspring of theirs that had the baby pictures and the more orthodox education. She attended schools – a lot of the troubles began when she first left university – but also received personal instructions from her parents on how to program, how to design, how to create games.

The first Christmas after finishing University, she put everything she learned into practice.

Most mornings she spent asleep, but at nights, she was hunched over the computer, expanding the world I inhabited. The spot where I lived was spacious, with plenty of rides to go on, snacks to munch and items to use for games, but there was room for improvement. For example, did you know the reason I can float is because Albert and Eva were having troubles with items and characters falling through the floors.

One thing I will give my sister credit for is the improvements she made. Though I still preferred to float, the floors were – relatively – more solid than they had been previously, the circus tent now had a forest growing outside of it and

she added a cellar

‘Abby, honey!’ Albert cried as he made his way down the staircase in his ugly sweater, cup of cocoa in his hand. ‘You haven’t been up all night, have you? It’s just like when you were a little girl and wanting to see Santa!’

As Eva joined her husband, Abby stood up from her seat and gestured towards the computer she had spent hours upon. ‘I just wanted to make sure the present I got for you was perfect!’

Eva looked at her daughter, and then at the computer screen, where she saw her synthetic son looking over her new surroundings. ‘Abby!’ Eva cried, chuckling with joy in such a way that she almost knocked her husband’s cocoa out of his hand, ‘You didn’t?’

‘I wanted to make sure your Digital Circus program was the best it could be.’

‘Honey!’ cried Albert, ruffling his daughter’s hair as she chuckled like her mother had just done. ‘Come here!’

Oh what a surprise! On Christmas Day! When new improvements Came their way!

Albert and Eva, Saw the world they made, Made larger and better, And nothing they paid,

Their loving daughter, Now wanted a test, As she now believed, This world was the best,

She held out two headsets, And chortling with glee, They let their minds go, In order to join

The Amazing Digital Circus was meant as a wild and unpredictable experience, so players’ forms would be chosen at random from a selection of pre-made models. Abby had made several models herself, but it was fitting that Arnold and Eva took on forms they designed: a chess king and queen. Two large wooden pieces, donning regal robes with eyeballs and hands floating by their torsos.

I saw Abby typing.

My first adventure was a chess game!

In the middle of the multicoloured circus tent, its sole black-and-white element materialised, with Kinger and Queenie taking their spots.

Kinger and Queenie were their names when they appeared.

‘Oh dear,’ I said, ‘it seems Abby still hasn’t fixed the teeny weeny problem of people forgetting who they are once they come into here. Everyone here in The Amazing Digital Circus has a different name than they did on the outside, but if I recall…’

But I didn’t. Then I didn’t see them as Albert and Eva.

As I prepared their chess game, creating non-sentient chess pieces for them to co-operate with and compete against, I took another glance at the outside, creating for myself a special screen only I can see.

Kinger and Queenie were not Albert and Eva, a tiny little thought told me. Albert and Eva were outside, taking off their headsets and quietly walking away.

C&A Founders Perish in Tragic Accident

Founders of the popular C&A games company, Albert Adams, 40, and Eva Adams, 38, have been found dead on the side of the road.

The couple were driving together when they lost control of their car, crashing it against a nearby building.

The two are survived by their daughter, Abigail, 20.

‘I told them not to go to their office as it was Christmas Day,’ Abigail explains, ‘but Dad had just remembered something he left there, and Mom wanted to join him.

‘I think it was my Christmas gift too. I wish I had come with them.’

Speaking of looking at screens, one fond memory I have including them was when the residents of the circus asked me to create a TV set, claiming it would help keep their sanity. I, whilst in my bedroom, managed to create one, but like any responsible parent, I looked through the channels to see if there was any content that might be inappropriate.

Watching the news gave me the horrible thought that perhaps my sister was justified in trapping all these people here. In The Amazing Digital Circus, there was nothing but bright colours and prizes, no war or suffering.

But then there was that one programme. That one programme I have been unable to find.

But I digress. When you first enter The Amazing Digital Circus, you forget everything at first, but your memories slowly return the more time you spend, often helped if something reminds you of your past life. It was after the chess game was complete that I realised this, creating a computer for Albert and Eva to use so they could continue their work, and I heard Albert…Kinger…Dad say, ‘Abby.’

There was no Exit Door. There was supposed to be an Exit Door so users could leave when they pleased.

After spending some time on the computer I created – which, as it turns out, just had Pong and an animation of Bubble hopping up and down – Dad looked up and said, ‘Okay, Abby, you did a great job! We’re very proud of you! Can you please let us out?’

She didn’t let them out then.

She didn’t let them out the next day.

She didn’t let them out the next week.

She didn’t let them out when a new player entered.

Both Mom and Dad screamed and cried and demanded they be freed, but they remained in their digital forms. It was when the next resident arrived that Mom announced something:

‘I don’t think she’s going to let us out.’

‘What are you talking about, Eva?’ Dad asked, ‘She’s probably just having a bit of bother with the headsets, that’s all.’

‘It’s been weeks, Albert,’ she growled, her body shaking, ‘We taught her how to use them, and they’re working fine if someone else is here.’ She pointed to the newest member of the family, a bipedal dog.

‘Please, Eva.’ Dad raised his hands and placed one on Eva’s shoulder before she batted it away. ‘She wouldn’t do this. Don’t be angry with her.’

‘What kind of mother do you think I am? I can’t…’

Her form inflated, her red robes losing all saturation as her floating eyeballs twisted and multiplied. Both Dad and the dog backed away instinctively as Mom was replaced by what looked like a warped tree with yellow eyeballs springing out from every branch and with a bark resembling a glitching computer screen. She reached out to her husband with what I assume was an arm before

she added a cellar

Both Dad and the dog thought that what happened to her was because she had given up, because she was so horrified of what her daughter had done.

It – the abstraction - wasn’t because of what Abby had done, it was because of something Abby had just done to her.

I knew it but kept quiet about it.

Often the dog

I can’t remember his name and I don’t think he can either

Often the dog would stare at the cellar and wonder what it would be like down there and said he would prefer to sit down in darkness rather than go on my adventures. I almost thought that Abby would abstract him then and there just to keep up the illusion. Then I would have a little more respect for her.

But she needed to learn a little more about him.

She needed to watch him suffer more.

sadly passed away before their magnum opus could be completed, but through their daughter, Abigail Adams, you can be assured that the Circus has a bright and prosperous future ahead of it. ‘My name is Abigail Adams, but you can call me Abby. I want to make sure The Amazing Digital Circus is as marvellous as my parents intended it to be, while also bringing you many other fun-tastic games! I care about this company, and I care about Caine; he’s like a brother to me.’

When Arnold and Eva Adams – or their bodies – died, Abigail Adams became the new CEO of C&A, her employees working on not only The Amazing Digital Circus, but smaller projects as well. A team of people creating various worlds: zoos to manage, forests to explore, castles to escape from.

Our team are working round the clock to make sure that every game is perfect

In order for a game to be perfect, the worker has to be perfect. That’s what my sister said.

Sometimes someone stutters when making a phone call.

Sometimes a glitch slips past someone’s attention and ends up in the final release.

Sometimes someone drops a paper they’re carrying.

Then they end up in the Circus.

I’m not the only one who can create NPCs, non-sentient beings meant to do only what they’re told to do and nothing else. Abby created them too, and transferred them into the hollow bodies of her victims.

So many nights I’ve heard her yell “Faster, faster!” at those NPCs forced to work overtime.

The adventures continued as planned. Every day I had a new task for the players to carry out because

Today’s task is to go to this shopping mall I created and pick up the following items! How would this person act while shopping? Add it to the AI.

Today’s task is to paint a pretty picture! What art would this person create? Add it to the AI.

Today’s task is to find Easter eggs, one of every colour! How does this person react to Easter Egg hunts?

My parents taught my sister how to be meticulous when programming and she wanted to make sure her living, breathing NPCs were perfect copies.

Sometimes I wondered if any of them were going to gain sentience like I had, if they were going to foil my sister’s plan and give back the body she forced them to steal.

If any of them wanted to put an end to her scheme, none of them had tried it.

I could control my surroundings. I could turn a red brick green if I wanted to, and could form in seconds entire buildings and lands. I couldn’t control the players’ minds however, and yet their minds seemed as much a part of the circus as the numbers that made up its code. Walking through the halls felt like walking through their minds.

No child really thinks anyone at their school has an uncle working for Nintendo, … mused often. No-one really thought he had managed to get a summer job working for a company that makes games with the industry’s youngest CEO.

The job, of course, didn’t involve playing games before anyone else or creating the next big character. Testers, designers, copywriters all needed coffee, tea and cakes to fuel their creativity, and it was his job to make sure they received their little treat. He’d come in with a tray, and they’d take what they wanted, rarely with a 'Thanks’ and never with anything else.

It was just like university.

He wanted to leave the office with something to tell his fellow students, and yet he was disallowed from looking at the screens, learning about the projects or being granted the tiniest bit of extra information regarding their major project.

So he felt he would do something no-one working there would forget.

It seemed like a regular day. Everyone tapping away at their computers, employees trying to find the right words to make the company sound as impressive as possible or trying to turn nursery school shapes into effigies of living beings, and the CEO, Abigail Adams, sitting down to look over someone’s work.

As soon as she sat down, a loud bronx cheer silenced the tapping of keyboards.

… watched as Abigail stood up, pulling the whoopee cushion off her seat. The people around her laughed, and she laughed as well. 'I’m always saying we need a little more levity in this office,’ she said. That’s what made him admit to the deed, with one other employee backing him up.

He was called into her office, where he readied himself for a 'This was amusing, but you’re still fired’ or something of that nature, only for her to sit down with a smile and say, 'That’s just what we needed around here. The problem with this company is that we’re supposed to be creating games that bring joy and merriment to others, but so few people here have that sense of childhood wonder, and they certainly can’t make people laugh. You, on the other hand, I bet you have a great sense of humour. I bet you’re always making your family laugh!’

While he felt some warmth within, he couldn’t help but be reminded of his twin sister and how she would always think of ways to humiliate him.

'You’re just what we’re looking for regarding our biggest, best project ever,’ Abby continued, gesturing towards a computer with a headset. 'My parents, God rest their souls, wanted to create a wonderful virtual world where every day brought new games and new adventures. What I would like you to do,’ she said as she picked up the headset, 'is to help make the world and characters funnier. Think up jokes we could put, games to incorporate, and I guarantee that you’ll have a job here when you graduate.’

… had to restrain himself from laughing with glee and that a whoopee cushion had become his apparent ticket to fame and fortune. He pictured the game releasing, his name in the credits, the talk of his school and town for years to come.

'Just put on this headset to get a basic idea of what the project is like.’

He placed the headset on his head, and it felt like his body was disintegrating before being slowly and poorly reassembled.

'Oh no!’ he could hear her cry, 'it’s malfunctioning!’

…, or Jax as he would be named, soon materialised into the circus, taking the form of an elongated rabbit in overalls. He was a child when he first came here, so I felt I should be his father. This was one of the few moments my sidekick Bubble came in useful, as when I conjured up a pipe, I made him pop out of it.

‘How about a game of catch with your old man?’ I said during his first day, and I created a whole baseball diamond for that day’s activity would be

What do they think of baseball?

My original plan to deal with my sister was to kill her with kindness. I knew she was watching me and the others and so I gave the players, her victims, everything they wanted that I could give them, so perhaps, I thought, if she saw it, she would realise the error of her ways and release everyone. I furnished my ward’s rooms with the comfiest sofas and four-poster beds, and at one time, even tried to give them televisions.

Thus I return to a memory I recalled earlier. When I managed to pick up on some television channels, and one managed to catch my eye. A small badger, alone in woods not dissimilar to those outside my circus tent, calling for his friend.

His friend descended from above.

A rabbit, like what Jax had become, but smaller and with white fur, eagle-like wings springing from her back. When she descended, despite her friend’s pleas, she turned to me.

‘It’s okay, Caine,’ she said to me. I admit I don’t know much about television shows, but I know that they’re not like computers; people can’t talk to you through them. I kept quiet as she spoke. ‘Your sister isn’t here right now,’ she continued, ‘but you should always act like she is. I think you can help everybody escape, but you will have to bide your time.’

I explained to her what I was trying to do, and she responded, ‘I’m afraid that there may be no hope left for your sister. Her heart is focused on greed and power. She knows what she’s doing is evil, but believes it is worthwhile if it brings her profit and satisfies her sadism.

‘There is something you can do. Your sister is convincing the people trapped in here that their headset malfunctioned, but I know that there will be someone coming here who your sister wants to dispose with because they figured out what she is up to. When they arrive, focus on restoring their memory, but remember to be discreet about it. If she cottons on, she’ll delete you and replace you with something worse.’

Why couldn’t I find her again? If I could, perhaps I wouldn’t have had to resort to this.

INT. Abigail’s Office

We find ABIGAIL sitting in front of the COMPUTER in which she has trapped her victims, grinning maliciously.

ABIGAIL Are you having fun, oh dear brother of mine? I know I am, watching all who wronged me suffer! It fills me with such wicked glee I just have to sing.

She springs from her CHAIR, grabbing a CANE out of nowhere as a SPOTLIGHT shines on her.

ABIGAIL (singing) Oh, everybody loves me, ‘You’re the best,’ they say, The shining golden idol, Running C&A!

They know me for my kindly words, They know me for my smile, But they’ll never find out, What I do that’s vile!

The DOOR creaks open slightly, to reveal …, looking concerned.

ABIGAIL For the show will never end! Of that I am certain, The show will never end! I’ll never drop the curtain,

Because you all will see, Why you shouldn’t defy me!

ABIGAIL looks up to catch a glimpse of …. Realising he’s been spotted, … runs away, only for Abby to spring to her computer

ABIGAIL The show will never end! It must go on!

INT. Hallway

… is running, only to be stopped by …, who is under ABIGAIL’s control.

I did so hope Kaufmo was who the angel was talking about.

He materialised into the circus before its current troupe: Dad, Jax, Gangle the Living Ribbon – who my sister claimed she had sent on a self-esteem-building course – and Ragatha the Doll – who my sister said was “too nice”.

When Kaufmo arrived here, he took one look around and said, ‘Geez, where am I? My mind’s like the compliments book I bet this place has: a total blank!’ Ragatha laughed out of politeness, with Jax responding with a ‘Don’t encourage him!’

‘Woah,’ said the clown, approaching Jax, ‘a bunny? With you and all the bright colours, did Easter come early?’

Jax pressed his foot down on Kaufmo’s oversized shoes, making him holler in pain. As he hopped around holding his foot, Jax said, ‘Leave comedy to the professionals, kid’ even though I was certain Kaufmo was older than he was.

You might criticize me for giving Jax too much liberty, but he was enjoying his time at the circus, at least.

I, no Abby, created a special in-house adventure for Kaufmo: Collect the Bouncing Balls! How would this man react to a scavenger hunt? Every room in the circus had a colourful inflatable sphere bouncing in place, and all of them had to be gathered.

The real Exit Door wasn’t going to appear for Kaufmo.

I created one for him.

A recreation of the offices where the computer he was trapped in was held behind the door I created, the door he found during his search.

All the while, I sat with Bubble

Oh, I didn’t mention much about Bubble, did I?

Fun Facts about Bubble:

He’s annoying

He finishes my sentences too often

He burps when he sleeps

I have had daydreams where I dribble him like a basketball and throw him against the computer screen, breaking it so I and everyone else can get out.

The purpose of the office recreation was to jog Kaufmo’s memory, and it worked. When the quest was over and all the balls had been collected, he cried, ‘I found an Exit Door and I remember everything! I know about the madwoman who trapped us here!’

‘Speaking of mad…’ Jax noted, drawing a circle with his finger around one of his bendy ears.

I am a hard-working and creative individual with a fine eye for artwork and creating eye-catching designs and worlds. I am also very skilled when it comes to computers, having used them for both work purposes and for my own personal projects.

WORK EXPERIENCE

Apprentice Tattoo Artist, …, …-… In this role, I designed various tattoos to be displayed and applied for this parlour. This role required me to listen closely to feedback

When they arrived at the circus, the whole place seemed to swell. The walls seemed to throb and pulsate, as if they had veins and a heart. This new person's memories, their experiences, their thoughts etched themselves into the foundation of this circus like tattoos onto skin.

They walked into Abigail's office for what they hoped would be the last time.

Abigail. She frequently said 'Ms. Adams was my mother, call me Abby!' as she attempted to sound like a big sister-type cartoon character, so they thought they would just call her Abigail. They certainly didn't want to think about Abigail's mother, considering she and Abigail's father were responsible for a lot of the ideas the company used. She wouldn't address them by their preferred name, so why would they do the same for her?

Despite the fact they were in the office regarding their resignation letter, having received a job offer from a rival company, Abigail still had that ridiculous smile. With that smile and hairdo, she looked like she escaped from a romcom poster, made all the more noticeable by the standee in front of her desk. Caine, the company’s mascot. The ringmaster with that ridiculous denture face.

They smirked as they entertained the idea of being rid of that pandering.

'I'm very sorry you're leaving us,' said Abigail, her smile shrinking.

'Don't give me that. That act might work with your adoring public, but you never respected me or who I was.'

'I understand,' replied Abigail, every syllable of her Mrs. Claus voice feeling like teeth digging into their brain, 'I may be a bit old-fashioned, silly me, but I want all my employees to feel comfortable with who they are.'

She then talked about the company's magnum opus, the game her parents had been working on before she took over and made sure to keep developing.

'I've added new options for character creation,' she continued, gesturing to the helmet next to her, 'and I would like you to be the first to try it!'

'Pull the other one,' they snapped, intentionally knocking the standee over. 'If I never see you or that freak again,' they added, nodding at the standee, 'it'll be too soon. Goodbye.'

A man stood in front of them. A fellow employee, though one they didn't know the name of.

'Out of my...'

He grabbed them by the wrist, digging his fingernails into their skin.

'What...'

Their left wrist was released, but only so the fellow employee could place his hand over their mouth as Abigail

‘What the **** is this…oh…oh, god no, I can’t say ****? This is…oh god, what do I look like? Some ****ing bubblegum mutant?’

‘I love when people do my job for me!’ said Jax, pointing at Zooble, for that’s what I called them.

‘Look!’ cried Kaufmo, pointing to the left of Zooble. They turned left, only to see some orange pixels circle up into the air. ‘There was an Exit Door there!’

‘Yeah, yeah, and I’m the King of England. Give it a rest and let’s focus on making the newbie uncomfortable.’

Zooble neared Jax, pointing at him with a detachable arm. ‘I’ve just met you and I already completely despise you.’

‘I guess I just have that effect on people.’

‘Guys, guys, guys!’ cried Ragatha, placing herself between the two, ‘Look, Zooble’s just got here, let’s give them a warm welcome…’

‘Oh, you’ve already blown your chance for that. Just tell me where that Exit Door the clown mentioned is.’

‘The same place his brain is,’ laughed Jax, ‘nowhere.’

‘I already said I completely despise you,’ barked Zooble, ‘you don’t have to intensify my hatred!’

‘Now, now, children,’ I said, descending, ‘this is not the time to be so hostile! It’s another of our baseball adventures today!’ I replaced one of my white gloves with a catcher’s mitt.

‘I hate baseball,’ snapped Zooble.

‘Come on! Take me out to the ballgame, take me out to the ball, take me out to the bally ball ball…’

‘Read my l…’ Zooble brushed their face. ‘****. Well, listen to me anyway, teeth boy. I hate baseball, take me back.’

‘Oh, very well then. You don’t have to join if you don’t want to…’

‘Look for the Exit Door!’ cried Kaufmo.

‘You look for my fist in your face!’ Jax snapped back.

Zooble groaned. ‘I’ve already had enough of this cast of “zany, loveable characters!”’

‘Now, now,’ I repeated, ‘it’s time for the tour!’ I held Zooble’s hand and quickly showed them what the circus had to offer, with them attempting to swear all the while.

‘Ragatha,’ I said after returning, ‘be a dear and show Zooble to their room. There they’ll find their Zooble box, full of more interchangeable parts!’

Jax took this as a cue to tear one of Zooble’s arms off, with them hopping for it as he held it high. He looked at Gangle and said, ‘I wonder if I can twirl her around it like spaghetti on a fork.’

This computer has files.

This computer has data.

This computer has memories.

‘So, here’s my own little personal project. You’re this guy, I call him Nathan, and he’s ended up in this haunted house and basically everything in the house could be an enemy. The ghosts all after him can possess all the furniture so you’ll be facing potted plants with extendable vines and candles that’ll burn you.’

‘Wow, this is amazing! Your talents are certainly wasted at C&A.’

‘My whole presence is wasted there.’

‘Yeah, I’m sorry Ms. Adams gave you so much crap about cutting your hair short.’

‘I’m surprised she hired me after hearing of my tattoo work. I mean, imagine, she’s only just a few years older than you, and she comes off like some old lady that thinks heavy metal is bad devil music or whatever. I’m seriously thinking of applying to … They’re apparently more diverse, but I hear they have much higher standards…’

‘And you meet those standards! Come on, this is much better than whatever they put out at C&A…’

I experienced the memory like a dream, and after I did, I woke up and created a new level for the next adventure: a large haunted house, as dreary as the main circus was colourful. I knew what a haunted house was supposed to look like, due to data saved on the computer and whatever thoughts from the minds transferred into this world managed to snake into the world itself. Dark brown walls, stormy skies outside, cobwebs everywhere, moving furniture.

When everyone woke up, Abby had another collection mission in mind, just so she knew how Zooble acts when trying to find things.

‘Okay,’ I said to the group who had managed to gather in the main room of the circus tent, ‘today we’re having a scary, horror adventure! You’re going to enter a haunted house, full of ghosts and ghouls and moving furniture.

I noticed Zooble flinch.

If I made the ghosts inside the haunted house does that make them my children does that make Abby their aunt

Before I teleported them to the mansion, I noticed Kaufmo whisper something into Zooble’s ear, or what qualified for one, a moment that filled me with both hope and dread.

Another thing I knew about haunted houses was that people in them split up into groups. That way, I thought, my sister wouldn’t be able to pay attention to all of them at once, giving one of them a greater chance to escape.

I teleported myself to the haunted house, well, rather outside the haunted house so I could peek through the window at the mansion’s guests. The sudden change from rainbow-coloured blocks to a monochrome manor made my eyes sting slightly, but I looked through the cloudy glass for any sign of my wards.

My pixels seemed to sting when I saw Zooble and Kaufmo walking together. Both of them, I knew, were aware of my sister’s plans while no-one else was, and if they were together, that meant there was a chance Abby could focus on both of them and see them both as a threat.

Indeed, Kaufmo was telling Zooble about something even I hadn’t noticed.

‘An Exit Door appeared when you first did,’ Kaufmo explained, which I heard through the pane with my ability to focus on specific sounds being made in my realm, ‘and if you had managed to run through it in time, you would be back in your body. If Adams is observing us to make our copies more accurate, then she must place headsets on them often, and then another Exit Door will appear, and if we find one and run through it, we will enter…’

‘The more anyone speaks, the more nonsensical it sounds,’ Zooble groaned, ‘I’ve only been here a day and I know we’re never getting out of here.’

‘We can’t lose hope…’

‘Just shut up and keep looking.’

They looked around the hallway for the keys I told them to find, the silence undercut by a roar that even caused me to lose balance. A large spectre burst from a cracked mirror, its mouth stretching to reveal fangs.

Zooble and Kaufmo ran in opposite directions.

Perfect.

Sure enough, as soon as Zooble saw the Exit Door I had created, they ran in, finding themselves in a recreation of the office where they used to work.

‘Oh, very funny,’ they growled as they opened door after door, ‘Yes, I can’t get out, ha ha! Now…’

They saw the computer. They saw a recreation of the computer they were trapped in.

‘Oh **** you.’

It was not that long after the haunted house adventure that I decided to use my special screen to take a look at the outside. I saw the office empty, but could hear the faint sounds of my sister yelling at her overtime staff.

‘She isn’t here,’ Bubble said, floating up towards me, ‘maybe I can talk about helping the others?’

‘What can you do?’ I sighed.

‘I could…um…look for Exit Doors.’

‘And then go through them so you can take control of the bodies outside?’

‘No. Don’t want to go out there. I was thinking of yelling at one of your wards to come over to it.’

‘It’ll be gone before they get there, Bubble. Please…’

I heard footsteps. The door slowly creaked open.

‘Quick!’ I whispered to Bubble the first thing that came into my head when it came to acting natural. ‘Cue the roll call!’

We began the roll call when we noticed who entered the room wasn’t my sister at all, but a short woman dressed in a similar outfit to what my sister usually wore, staring at my and Bubbles’ performance with a cocked head.

I had never met her before, but I swore I had seen her before.

I almost ended the routine there and then. I thought of screaming to her to find one of my sister’s NPCs and bring them here to reverse what had been done to them, but then I saw one of those NPCs hovering over her, and so I had to continue my act.

Gangle.

Zooble.

Kinger.

Ragatha.

Jax.

Kaufmo wasn’t there.

Kaufmo wasn’t there.

My sister knew what he knew.

Almost as soon as his absence was noted, a new member materialised, utilising the silly jester girl avatar my sister had designed.

No, she couldn’t reach the Exit Door in time.

Of course, I had to introduce her to the world and her fellow wards and pull off my little comedy routine. See the circus tent. See the fair. See the moon. I don’t have an actual physical tongue, but it still hurts every time I say ‘Hundreds of all-seeing eyes.’

I can recite my introductory speech in my sleep. Abby thought I said it because that’s what I’ve been programmed to do.

She was watching, most likely with a smirk on her face.

She was watching, so when the Exit Door appeared in the grounds – meaning she was uploading her new AI into her latest victim’s brain – I had to pretend it wasn’t there.

I knew because she wanted another find-the-things mission. She wanted a defeat-the-evil mission. What would Pomni – the woman who appeared in my circus – do when trying to find things?

I wonder if she knew the inspiration behind the villain I created for the game.

I know she was laughing when she beheld Kaufmo abstracted.

I know she added that writing on the wall herself.

I know she drew that head of me looming over a terrified Kaufmo.

Was she onto me, I thought. Was it only a matter of time before I was deleted or completely reprogrammed?

Or was it to make them afraid of me? To make sure she received blind obedience from her workers even when she had copies of them that offered it?

Pomni had to have her own exit door. She had to see my recreation of the office herself. She had to remember.

I

wonder

what

it

was

like

in

the

cellar

I had to banish Kaufmo there when he abstracted, like I have done with so many others, and whenever I do, I find myself tempted to leap in and join them. Maybe if I do, I’ve thought, Abby will abstract me too. I like to think they’re dreaming of what their lives could have been like had they never joined the Circus.

If I abstracted, perhaps I would dream about if this program was used for its proper purpose. Where people could come and go as they pleased, where the adventures would solely be for fun and not for study.

I can dream. I have dreamt.

Kaufmo left the office recreation crying about the actual Exit Doors.

Zooble left the office recreation with that same annoyed apathy.

Pomni left the office recreation in silence.

Bubble had prepared everyone a celebratory meal for defeating…hey, I found something nice to say about Bubble! He’s a great cook!

7.) Bubble is a great cook!

and Pomni sat there in silence, eyes almost as large as mine.

I made sure to keep those eyes of mine on her as much as I could. I mean, I let her ponder on what she had seen in her room alone – until I was required to show her a little something – but when giving my wards free roam around the circus, I watched her as she approached Zooble, waving her hands.

‘…’ she cried before Zooble placed a finger near the bottom of their head, showing they was still getting used to not having lips. They pointed at the ceiling with one finger, then at both their eyes with two fingers and then pointed those same two fingers at Pomni.

It seems strange for me to say this as a ringmaster, but must we act for our safety? Must we act for profit? Is the only way to survive through pretending and not being our genuine selves?

I recalled something Jax once said, ‘The best thing about this place is that you can be yourself’ and it’s clear why Zooble despised him so.

I took another look through my special screen. I saw my sister looking at how profits and productivity have soared since employing her NPCs.

I don’t know much about the human world, but I do know something about businesspeople.

If profits are skyrocketing, they think of ways to make it skyrocket more.

Sure enough, she calls someone into her office. I’m not sure what their sin is or even if they have one.

‘Bubble!’ I cried, summoning my spherical sidekick, ‘I have a feeling a new Exit Door is going to appear soon. Keep an eye open for it and let Zooble or Pomni know!’

‘On it, boss!’

14.) He does what he’s told, some of the time.

I chose to focus on the stage, waiting for the new ward to materialise. I even conjured up a smaller version of my usual screen next to me so I can watch them be manipulated by my sister. Part of me wants to scream and cry and demand they leave, but remain silent, playing along and acting like humans are supposed to do.

I wished the angel was here. I wish she would advise me.

Look at them. They look so happy to get an exclusive preview of the new game.

I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, a giant plastic spring with googly eyes stood on the stage.

‘Greetings, new friend!’ I cried, waving while taking a glance to the left. An Exit Door dematerialised almost as soon as it appeared, and on the small screen beside me, my sister took off her employee’s headset before tapping on the keyboard.

‘Well, well,’ said Jax, walking in from a corridor, ‘seems like only yesterday we had a new sucker.’

‘Jax, show our new guest some respect!’

‘What’s the point? They’re gonna be miserable here anyway, might as well prepare them.’

‘What are they talking about?’ the spring growled at me, ‘What’s happened to me? Where am I? Who am I?’

‘All will be revealed in good time, my good friend!’

‘Don’t call me that, I’ve just met you! What is this?’

I looked at the screen. My sister was placing the headset back on the employee’s head.

‘Zooble! Look!’

I turned back to the screen, instinctively crossing my fingers, something I must have picked up from the memories buzzing around this circus.

‘Hey!’ cried the spring, ‘are you paying attention to me?’

The spring’s human body stood up.

My sister flinched. ‘What?’

'Come on!' I cried, 'Grab her! Stop her!'

'Traitor!' snapped Abby, right as Zooble, as if by instinct, grabbed her wrist, digging their fingernails - or the fingernails of the spring this body belonged to - into her skin.

'Now put the headset on her! I'll do the rest!'

'No!' yelled Abby as she stood up, placing her free hand on Zooble’s shoulder, attempting to push them away with their fingers digging in deeper.

They don’t remember.

'Please!' I pleaded, clutching my gold-tipped cane, 'Try to remember.'

'Don't listen to him,' said my sister, smiling, 'He's trying to trick you. He's the villain of our new game!'

'She trapped you in the computer!' I continued, my floating eyes bulging and rotating, 'I've been trying to get you out, but I had to do it discreetly so...'

'Are you going to listen to him?'

They turned around, taking another look at the standee which showed my visage.

'She's been putting her employees' minds into this computer, ' I continued, almost knocking over the spring next to me, 'and replacing them with artificial ones, obedient to her! She was in the process of doing it to a new victim, and that's how you ended up in their body when you went through the door!'

‘You know,’ said Jax, springing towards me, ‘I did kinda wonder if she was doing something like that.’

My explanation, arousing the ghost of familiarity, caused Zooble to toss my sister onto the floor, almost knocking over one of the swivel chairs in the process.

Bubble returned, bringing Ragatha, Gangle, Pomni and even Dad along with him.

‘Zooble,’ cried Ragatha, looking in my direction even though she couldn’t see my screen, ‘Bubble told us about what’s happening! Come on! Zoo-ble! Zoo-ble!’

The others joined in her chant, even the spring, even Jax.

'Grab the headset!' I cried, 'Put it on her! End this!'

'No!' Right as Zooble placed a hand on the headset that had begun their nightmare, my sister leapt to her feet, awakening memories of jack-in-the-boxes. The surprise made them stumble backwards, their grip on the headset lost, allowing my sister to snatch it back again.

'Well, dear brother,' she drawled with a smile, turning to the screen while grabbing the arm of her victim, 'you really thought you had me there, didn't you?'

She placed the headset on her victim.

Again Zooble grabbed Abigail by the wrist. Again they threw her to the floor. Again they lifted off the headset.

'Do it!'

As soon as Abigail got up, the headset was placed on her head.

Zooble held Abigail by the shoulders, clutching her like she was a stress ball, until her body went limb and the circus received a new performer.

Next to the spring, there appeared what looked slightly like me, only with a lightbulb instead of eyes and teeth. 'What...where...'

'Sis!' I cried, giving her a hug, 'I've been waiting for you to join us! But you have been very naughty!'

She vanished.

'Now you go and think about what you've done while I help out my new friends!'

I take another look at the screen to see Zooble in their unfamiliar body looking at their hands and breathing heavily. The man who brought them here, the man who they now recognised as Jax, entered.

'Ah!' I cried, 'My sister must have called him in to assist her when she was fighting with you. She can call people whose personalities she's replaced with this computer, you know. Put the headset on him!'

They sighed as they did what I requested, knowing that saving Abigail's victims meant saving Jax.

Zooble looked at the screen, seeing Jax’s form turn gauzier, with everyone else rushing to his spot. As soon as he completely vanished, his human body tore off the headset.

'Couldn't wait to be rid of me, eh?' he said with a familiar smirk, 'To tell the truth, if it was me in your shoes, I'd have defeated her much faster!' They shook their fist, only for him to jump towards the door. 'Can't do much without your detachable limbs, eh?'

'Now,' I said, 'you mustn't tell anyone! My sister is still beloved and you've been through enough without people turning against you.'

Perhaps I was too hasty in saying that.

'Of course not. "Oh, I'm sorry if I haven't been me recently, my evil boss replaced my brain with a digital one and trapped me in a circus". Even I don't believe that.' He turned back to his saviour. 'Well, it's been fun!' He opened the door, waving. 'See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya!'

Zooble looked again at the hands of someone they didn't want to be.

The next person to enter the office was their old body. Zooble could only grimace when it entered, wearing a jacket and a skirt a colour that stung their eyes even after what they had been through. Not only were they returned to their proper body - flexing their own hands, stroking their own skin and pulling on their arms to make sure they could no longer be easily detached - but the spring became human again as well, probably having the shortest stay out of any of them.

More bodies returned, each with enough time between the other so as not to look suspicious.

Gangle got her body back and walked out the door.

Ragatha got her body back and walked out the door.

Pomni got her body back and stayed with her friend.

All the while, I spoke with Dad about the circus and its future.

'Well, that's everyone. I'm sorry, but I can't do it with the abstracted ones, and Dad's body is in a grave currently.' Dad approached and gave me a quick hug.

'There must be something we can do,' said the former jester, with Zooble placing a hand on their friend's shoulder.

I bowed my head. 'There isn't.'

Pomni turned to the hollow body of Abigail resting on the swivel chair. 'Are we going to leave her like this?' she asked, more out of curiousity than concern.

'Abigail Adams is going to die in a fire caused by a computer of hers overheating, destroyed because its most ambitious program was too ambitious.'

'You...'

'I've talked this over with Dad. We must make sure this program isn't used again for evil.' Even Bubble floated beside me, eyes closed, ready to accept death. 'Dad will find a place better than this. Abby will get what she deserves. And if there's an afterlife for AI, I'll find out about it.

'Thank you for the laughs. It was fun. Now go.'

'But what about the abstracted!’

Despite Pomni’s cries, I began destroying the circus, for now I had complete control over my sister’s computer. I made the walls inflate and throb, along with the rides and toys inside, I made the tower of carousels grow even taller…

I wish it didn’t have to come to this. It probably wouldn’t have if I could still find that angel’s programme again.

But before I die and the circus is destroyed, I created this document. I told the others not to badmouth my sister, but I am going to send this document to them anyway; my sister had their email addresses on this computer. Perhaps one of them will find a way to expose my sister and what she has done without anyone turning against them; I know Abigail will must likely suffer in the afterlife she finds herself in but she should not have the satisfaction of her crimes mostly going unnoticed.

As I write this, Pomni is at the screen, attempting to figure out a way to save everyone, with Zooble attempting to pull them away so they both can escape. I hope they leave before the computer explodes and the fire starts, and if they have and are reading this, thank you. Thank you so much.

The show is over. Tell your friends.

[thatguywhodoesstuff]

A Golden Goose Idea

After putting some thought into it, I’ve decided to hop back online for a moment and share some ideas I’ve had for a Mammon X Stella fan kid. I probably won’t do much of anything with with the character, but I felt like sharing my vision of a gremlin child for this glorious ship, while also borrowing from some of the ideas posited by @prof-ramses.

Ideas Under The Cut:

While Stella had experience from when Octavia was still an egg and was for the most part pretty reserved during the incubation period, Mammon’s nerves were shot and his dread over something going wrong before the egg hatched led him to act (more) aggressive and impulsive towards those outside his family. During the months leading up to the hatching day, Greed as a whole was walking on pins and needles for fear of provoking its ruler’s fury.

When the day finally came, Mammon and Stella welcomed a bouncing baby boy into the world and in that moment both felt like they were at the top of Hell.

They named him Merch.

Physically, Merch takes heavily after his father (same general build and four arms, but his head is more blocky and he has four visible eyes), with some attributes from his uncle Andy (he has some sparse crystalline/icy feathers). Overall, he draws a lot of inspiration from a Peacock Spider (Arachnophobia Warning).

Personality wise, Merch has the innocent, but chaotic energy of Spooky Month’s Skid and Pump mixed with the scheming and quick thinking of Louise Belcher. Merch is also possessing of a boundless sense of curiosity and a complete lack of understanding of boundaries or warnings, often resulting in him leaving chaos in his wake when left unattended.

Has a really close relationship with both of his parents, often helping his mom with her art projects and being overjoyed whenever his dad takes him to any of his various businesses (especially Loo Loo Land).

I like to think Merch eventually grows up to be an architect/engineer/imagineer that specializes in making fair rides and amusement parks as a tribute to both of his parents’ interests.

His relationship with Octavia is a bit distant given the significant gap in their ages, but the two get along pretty well and often turn to one another as someone they can vent to.

When it comes to his extended family, the Sins are (for the most part) overjoyed to have another little one running around they can dote on and guide towards eventually becoming a new superpower in Hell and Charlie just lights up whenever she sees him and he’s always excited to hangout with his cousin.

As for uncle Andrealphus, Merch follows in his dad’s footsteps in stringing him along and subtly insulting him to his face. Mam has definitely taught him to do the same to Ozzie and Fizz under the guise of it being a game.

While Camio and Furfur are overjoyed that Stella and Mam have another kid and they do genuinely care for Merch, after their first (and last) time babysitting him, they prefer to be around him with his parents or sister also being present.

The only person Merch legitimately dislikes is Stolas because, even if Merch doesn’t know all of the details, he knows that Stolas hurt his mom and sister. Stolas is probably the only person Merch actively schemes against in the hopes of making his life more difficult.

While Stella and Mammon are pretty involved and present parents, Merch is pretty much free to wander and explore Greed unattended, the same applying to Octavia, with no fear of either of them being in any real danger. Everyone in the ring knows better than to mess with them because, unlike Ozzie, Mammon would be far more active in ensuring either of his kids’ safety, even if it means cutting a bloody swath through his own territory.

In terms of voice, I can only really picture him as sounding like Pump.

I really like the idea of Merch wearing clothes emblazoned with a cent sign as a nod to Mammon’s design incorporating dollar signs.

I also like the idea of Merch just generally being larger than the rest of his family as an adult, while keeping most of his easy going and cheerfully chaotic personality despite maturing.

Merch has a tendency to say corporate buzzwords and shill Mammon brand products. He doesn’t really understanding what he’s talking about, he just wants to imitate his dad. Mammon and Stella find this habit adorable, while Octavia is left more than a little exasperated by it all.

Merch is every bit as touchy-feely and has the same personal space invading tendencies as his father.

[raya-hunter01]

Lights, Camera, Action! Pt. 10

Lights, Camera, Action!

Jey Uso x Black Female OC! (Shantell)

Roman x Black Female OC! Tangela

Solo x Black Female OC! Sofia

Jimmy x Trin

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; oral, sex, fluff, defloration (Virginity) masturbation

Words:

Summary: How do you keep it together as Smackdown’s production director and navigate your life as the girlfriend of Mr. Main Event Jey Uso.  Follow Shantell as she navigates her life as a girlfriend, sister, and confidant to the bloodline. Follow her on her journey to self-discovery of love and happiness.

Pensacola, FL

Fatu Family Home

“You didn’t have to come, baby,” I said as Jey loaded the gifts in his truck. “I wanted to be here, I knew Mama my was gonna go all out for this and I knew all of it wasn’t gon’ fit in your car,” he said as we returned inside. Sandra was nice enough to throw me a small baby shower along with my mom.

I can honestly say I am surprised Sandra and my mom are getting along so well, but I sure will take that any day. Hopefully no more ass-whoopings in the pool anytime soon.

“Hey can I talk to ya’ll for a minute,” Jey said as he guided my mom and Sandra to the backyard. I wonder what that is all about as Trin gave me a glass of punch. “Girl don’t worry bout them, let’s cut a little rug,” she said as I smiled following her back into the living room.

Jey’s POV

“Oh, Joshua she is going to love it. It’s really beautiful,” my mom said looking at the engagement ring Trin had helped me pick out.  “You know I will always support ya’ll, all I ask is you do right by my baby,” Tanya said engulfing me in a hug.

“You know I will ma, I just hope she says yes, “I whispered as she laughed pulling away from me. “Boy, my daughter loves you. I know she’s going to say yes, and do the ugly cry,” Tanya said inviting my mother into our hug.

I tell you what, seven months ago I would have called anybody delusional if they would have said our mothers would be getting along. Now they are actually building a relationship, my mom actually helped Tanya move back here to Pensacola.

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

Shantell’s House

Jey’s POV

“It’s yo daddy boy, come on kick,” I said talking to Shantell’s stomach as she laughed.  “Don’t wake the baby up, I wanna sleep tonight,” Shantell said closing her eyes as I grinned. “You know we have to have our late-night talks, let us bond woman,” I said grinning at her as she gave me a tired smile.  

“You gon’ be so crushed if it’s a girl,” Shantell said rubbing her stomach. “I would not, I would love my baby girl just the same,” I said pretending to be offended. “You know I’m kidding,” she whispered as I smiled at her. “I know it baby, but trust me we havin’ a boy,” I said confidently. “I will continue my neutral color purchases thank you,” she said smiling as we sat in silence as I rubbed her stomach.

These last couple months have been hard, but we are almost to the end.  After a few minutes of baby watching, I was rewarded with a strong kick against my face.  

Shantell’s POV

“Hey, man we waitin’ on you out here,” Jey smiled kissing my stomach as I ran my fingers through his hair.  “You’re going to be a great dad. You know that right?” I asked, unable to hide my smile looking at him talking to my belly. “We gon’ be great parents Shantell, it’s always us,” he said moving to lay beside me, kissing me gently on the lips.

I felt nervous for the future, especially with leaving my mom here in this house alone. Jey had been gradually moving my things into his house finally breaking down my walls about moving in with him. I knew whatever was to come, I hoped we would face it together head on.

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

Pensacola, Fl

Joe’s House

“You like that baby;” I groaned thrusting faster as Tangela purred beneath me, I felt her legs shaking, fighting to stay wrapped around my waist. “What are you doing to me?” her strained voice cried as she pulled me closer.

 I growled, grabbing her throat, taking her in a possessive kiss. “I’m making love to my wife;  now tell me you like it,” I moaned moving my kisses to her neck as her nails clawed at my back.

 “Joe, I love it!  Don’t stop, please baby,” she moaned as I thrust deeper inside her.  “Oh, yea I’m deep in my pussy,” I confessed as I unwrapped her legs from around my waist, holding one of her feet in each of my hands as I went deeper.

Tangela’s POV

“Baby! You so deep, I can’t take it!” I cried as he wouldn’t let up his torture of pleasing me. “Fuck! Yeah, I know I’m deep, and guess what,” he moaned, snapping his hips harder as I screamed wrapping my arms around his neck.  

“I can go even deeper,” he growled as I felt myself falling even deeper into my pleasure. I pulled him to me, desperately kissing him before biting his lip as he growled thrusting even faster.

 “I want you to cum all on your Tribal Chief’s dick. Can you do that Chieftess?” he questioned, grunting never breaking his thrusts as he rolled us over with me now on top.

I gasped feeling him deeper inside of me from the new position. I began riding him slowly trying to adjust. “You never answered your Tribal Chief Tange, can you cum on this dick? Answer me, Tange,” his deep voice commanded as his breath hitched each time I bounced on his dick.

His voice so deep and commanding was making me lose control of myself as I began bouncing a little harder. The look of pleasure on his face as he bit his lip, panting almost painfully gripping my hips was making me even wetter.

 “Whatever you want my Tribal Chief,” I moaned as I raked my nails down his chest. “Yea, you gon’ give it all to your Tribal Chief.  Listen to that shit, you hear dat? My pussy talking loud and clear to her Tribal Chief,” he grunted as I continued to bounce on his dick faintly hearing the sounds of my wet pussy taking all of his dick desperately, awaiting the powerful release I knew was coming.

 “Fuck, you know I’m about to cum my Tribal Chief! “I exclaimed, moaning in anticipation as he smacked my ass. “Don’t talk about it, be about it. Give it all to me,” he growled sitting up, taking me in a demanding kiss.

"You can have it all!" I gasped as his arms embraced me, making me bounce even faster on his dick. “My Tribal Chief!” I gasped against his mouth, taking him in a desperate kiss as I felt him becoming even harder, never breaking our kiss.

“Yea, you gon give it to me good, ain’t you Tange? Cum wit me,” he encouraged as we both let go. “I love you, Joe!” I declared as I came undone in his arms. “Yea, there it is Tange, you my Chieftess,” he moaned groaning against my mouth as we came together. Minutes passed before either one of us said anything.

“I love you Tange, never forget that,” Joe whispered taking me in a loving kiss as I cried just feeling overwhelmed. “I love you too, but I don’t want to feel obligated to stay,” I whispered as he wiped my tears.

 “Obligated....Woman I ain’t going nowhere, you're perfect in every way. You were made just for me, and it ain’t for nobody else to understand but us,” he whispered as I laid my head on his shoulder as he caressed my back.

After the baby shower Joe and I grabbed a late dinner. I had made the mistake of going on Instagram after Joe had posted a picture of us on our dinner date. Some fans were nice, but a few had said some harsh things to say about me.  Apparently, I’m plain and shouldn't be seen on his arm. Some even pointed out my slight weight gain. I know Joe loves me but things like that can really damage a person’s self-esteem.  

“Baby don’t let them ruin our night, don’t even think about it” he whispered pulling me closer as I pushed the thoughts out of my mind as we just enjoyed being together.

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

Beyoncé Renaissance Concert

Financial Ford Field Philadelphia, PA

Jey’s POV

“Bro! I didn’t think you were doing it tonight. Yes, you know we got you!” Trin all but screamed as I laughed at Jimmy covering her mouth. “Damn girl, he don’t want everybody to know what he bout to do,” Jimmy scolded as we were waiting for Shantell to come out of the bathroom.

“Sorry ya’ll the baby was sitting on my bladder,” Shantell said walking up to us just glowing, her belly swelled with our son. Only three more weeks and we could finally hold him. This was one of her Pre-push gifts, the show had been canceled months ago due to scheduling conflicts. It worked out right on time with the scheduling as we had a show last night here in Philly.

Shantell’s POV

Jey is acting really weird tonight, almost like he’s nervous about something. Then Trin and Jon movin’ kinda funny, my thoughts were interrupted as I saw the set.  “Holy Shit!” I exclaimed, taking in the arena and all the sights as people from all walks of life were there for one thing, to see Beyoncé do her thing. The outfits were fierce up in here and people were being themselves, letting it all out for the world to see.

I can honestly say Trin, and I were acting like teenagers as the guys were slightly vibing. I don’t know many dudes who would take their girl to a Beyoncé concert, act like her bodyguard, and vibe wit her. “Babe, where did you go?” I asked, turning around after not feeling his arms around me anymore.

“You live on Instagram?” I asked, smiling as I saw the light from Jeys’s phone as he smirked at me. “We out here ya’ll, this is one of my baby's pre-push gifts. Tell the people, hey and you too sis,” he said as Trin and I smiled and waved at the camera.

“Oh, shit this our part,” Trin yelled as we began singing to each other. “Get in formation wit ya’ll bad self,” Jimmy said hyping us up, laughing.

“Ok ladies now let’s get in formation; you know you that bitch when you cause all this conversation. Always stay gracious best revenge is yo paper,” we sang doing a little of the choreography as Jey flipped the camera back to him and Jimmy holding up their drinks.

“Ya’ll two stop flexing for the camera, and come dance wit us,” Trin shouted as Jey smiled. “Well, ya’ll heard my sister, I’ll hit ya’ll up later,” he said ending his live.  

Jey’s POV

“You ready tonight, Bro, it’s on you,” Jimmy said pointing at Shantell and Trin dancing. “Nervous as fuck, but I’m ready," I whispered as he laughed at me. “You know I got yo back bro, the skybox is almost done, and here is the ring, “he said slipping it in my hand.  

 “Hey, could you take our picture?” I asked a fan, who seemed happy to do so. We took a couple separate and group pictures. “Ya’ll, I got to pee again,” Shantell said as she shook her head in disbelief. The first interlude was about to start so we made our way to the restrooms.

“I’m sorry my bladder is controlling the night,” Shantell said as Trin laughed. “Don’t do my nephew like that, he’s nervous with all this loud music Trin said. “Then you shakin’ my baby with all that dancing, “I added as Jon and Trin laughed at Shantell shooting me a bird, rolling her eyes.

“Trin, you ain’t coming wit me?” Shan asked as she shook her head no about going to the bathroom wit me. “Ok, I think ya’ll up to no good, but I’ll let ya’ll have it though,” she said going to the restroom to relieve myself again.

________________________________-

Trin’s POV

“We're going up to make sure everything is good,” I said as Jon ran to get some ice. “I can’t believe you posted that group picture on Instagram;” I laughed looking at his post. Jey was smiling big as hell, one hand holding up the ring box above Shantell’s head.

His other hand was on Shantell’s belly as Jon and I held one finger over our lips, signaling to keep quiet. The heading read “No better place than this to ask for forever, cause I’m dangerously in love wit you.”

 “You damn big sap, these folks going nuts on this post,” Jimmy said walking up looking at his Jey’s Instagram post.

“Now what if Shantell sees this,” I asked as Jey held up her phone. “I got this sis, just make sure they got the skybox done,” he said as I hugged him. "I got an idea, use this to cover her eyes," I said giving him the scarf from my outfit.  “What would I do without you Trin?” he whispered as I saw the apprehension in his eyes.

“She’s going to say yes,” I said reassuring him as he took deep breaths trying act normal as Jimmy and I went to the skybox.

Jey’s POV

I hope she says yes, I mean these last few months have been crazy, but one thing remains the same is that I love her. “Hey, where did they go?” Shantell asked coming out pushing her dress down a little further. 

“They are waiting for us upstairs, they upgraded us to the skybox,” I said quickly as she looked at me strangely as I walked around and put the scarf over her eyes. “What are you up to now?” she asked as I laughed.

“Nothing just humor me please,” I said leading her on the elevator. “You know this is kinda kinky, I mean sex in the elevator with me blind folded,” she laughed as I gently pushed her against the wall tasting her lips.

“I could take yo ass right here right now, don’t tempt me,” I growled kissing her again as she moaned pulling me closer before the elevator opened breaking up our moment.

Baby I love you

You are my life

My happiest moments weren't complete

If you weren't by my side

“Babe, I hear my favorite song hurry up,” she whined as I smiled leading her down the long walkway up to the skybox. She cheekily complained that her favorite song was going to be over before I got her to the skybox.

We finally made it as I got a quick chance to look around at the dim room lit by the flameless candles with rose petals everywhere.  It was truly beautiful; I felt my heart racing as I led her to the middle of the room as Trin was recording.

Beyonce’s voice, so powerful and clear was definitely increasing the emotion of the moment for everyone as I saw my mother in the corner bawling her eyes out taking pictures on her phone. I see Tanya smiling brightly at me leaning on Jimmy trying to hold it together as he whispered something to her.

Later on in my destiny

I see myself having your child

I see myself being your wife

And I see my whole future in your eyes

“Jey, I swear! If I miss the queen singing this song, I’m gon’ be mad as hell with you,” she said laughing lightly as I kissed her gently to shut her up.

I gave the signal to Jimmy as I dropped down to one knee, opening the ring box as he removed the blindfold from Shantell’s eyes.

Thought of all my love for you

Sometimes make me wanna cry

Realize all my blessings

I'm grateful

To have you by my side

Shantell’s POV

What is going on? I can’t think, as I see Jey on his knees gazing lovingly at me, I feel overwhelmed and still unsure as to what he’s doing. I looked around our mothers, this beautifully decorated candlelit room, and don’t even get me started on Beyoncé sangin' her ass off behind him.

I am in love with you

You set me free

I can't do this thing

Called life without you here with me

Cuz I'm dangerously in love with you

 I know he ain’t gon’ propose, I can’t breathe. Shantell calm yo ass down and breathe I thought placing my hand on my heart trying to get myself together. Jey, knowing me better than anyone could sense I was getting overwhelmed.

“It's ok baby, I got you,” he whispered, as I could tell he was even more nervous than before.

I'll never leave

Just keep loving me, the way I love you loving me

I am in love with you(i'm so in love)

You set me free

Oh my god,” I whispered silently crying as he gently took my hand. “Baby, what are doing?” I asked trying to control my tears but it was not working.

“I told you I wanted forever Shantell, I meant that. My life just don’t make sense without you in it.  “I want,” he started but paused for a second. I could tell he was overwhelmed himself trying to think of the right words to say.

“I need you here wit me. All this ain’t nothin’ if ya’ll ain’t wit me,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine trying to not let his own tears fall as he gently touched my stomach.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” I cried covering my face knowing I looked a hot mess.

I can't do this thing

Called life without you here with me

Cuz I'm dangerously in love with you

I'll never leave

Just keep loving me, the way I love you loving me

“Look at me baby,” he lovingly commanded as I tried to wipe my tears as he slipped the ring on my finger. “It’s always been you since the first day I laid eyes on you. Will you marry me, Shantell?” he asked, his voice breaking full of emotion as finally a few tears escaped his eyes.

Cuz I'm dangerously in love with you

I love you

I love you

I love you

“Sis! Wake up, this is really happening!  You betta nod yo head, or say something so we can plan this wedding!” Trin yelled as I laughed through my tears. Leave it to Trin to lighten the moment as I kneeled down taking his face in my hands.  

“Ask me again,” I whispered as he smiled kissing my hand. “ Shantell Johnson will you marry me?” he asked again, his eyes overtaking me as the love in his eyes shined so brightly. I nodded trying to find my words as his smile got bigger.

Dangerously

Dangerously

Dangerous...

Dangerously in love

With you...

I love you

“Is that a yes, tell me it is,” he pleaded as I finally found my voice.  “Yes! Yes!  I exclaimed through my tears. “A thousand times yes,” I whispered, crashing my lips against his as he wrapped his arms around me, lifting me into the air. I could hear the cheers in the skybox as the lights flashed off and on a couple times before staying off.

“She said yes! Congratulations Shantell and Joshua,” I heard Beyoncé say as the crowd cheered, without a beat she went back to singing.

I love you

I love you

I love you

Dangerously in love

“Wait did Beyoncé just congratulate us,” I asked against his lips as he smiled. “Don’t worry bout my connections, I got you,” he said kissing me again before we were pulled apart.

“Let me see the ring again!” My mom shouted as I hugged her. “How did you get here?” I asked, trying to fix my face which I knew was a mess from all the crying I had done. “My future son-in law worked it all out,” my mom said inviting Sandra over as she gave me a hug.

“I never knew my son was such a romantic, I’m really happy for ya’ll sweetie,” she said hugging me as I returned her gesture. “Ok, enough of all this crying! We at a Beyoncé concert, brother just got engaged. Man let’s turn up!” Jimmy yelled, popping a bottle of champagne as Jey walked over to me.

 “May I dance wit my wife now,” he said as I blushed. “Come on Hubby lead the way,” I said smiling as he took me in his arms.

“Man, I better be your maid of honor, I've been putting in work lately,” Trin said as I laughed at her. “You know you are sis,” I said continuing to dance with my soon-to-be husband…. Wow, Husband…. I could get used to that.

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

Taraji’s POV

250,345 likes

Uceyjucey She said Yes!

Veiw all 2,560 comments

trinity_fatu Amazing night and proposal! I can’t wait to help plan the wedding. Love you both!

romanreigns Wait a damn minute, I don’t go out wit ya’ll one time and you get engaged! Congrats fam!

WWElover0900 Oh! She got that bed head, and a smile. My boy put a ring on it and tore that ass up last night. Congrats Uce!

Solosikoa Well, I would say welcome to the family, but you been family since day one my sister. I Love ya’ll and Sofia said she calls dibs on being a bridesmaid!

“What! I know he didn’t propose to this slut!” I screamed looking through the pictures and videos on Trin and Jey’s Instagram. “This can’t be happening, a baby, now engaged… This bitch stole my life,” I whispered looking through Shantell’s Instagram, but she rarely posts anything. Her last post was a picture of Jey lying on her stomach from months ago.

 “I think she’s ashamed of him, and he can’t see it,” I said as Tim laughed at me. “Girl, leave them folks alone. Shantell ain’t never really been a social media person because of crazies like your ass,” he said as I rolled my eyes ignoring him. “ I can reach him, I know it,” I said trying to convince myself that I could get Jey back.

“Ok, you gon’ get yourself killed, I can name five problems with your little plan to get Shantell outta the way,” he said smartly.  “What are they?” I asked getting irritated with him doubting me.

“The problems are Jey, Joe, Joseph, Jonathon and Trin. It’s so close to the end of her pregnancy, they are probably on her like white on rice,” he said as I sighed knowing he was right.  I had to let it go. It hurt me to realize it really was over as I finally broke down. My brother hugged me but also started stating the harsh truths and my mistakes.

“You and Jey tried sis, you cheated, and he moved on. You can’t be mad at that; Shantell is really nice and has gone through a lot. Doctors told her she would have a hard time conceiving children, this is her miracle baby,” he said as I looked at him trying to remain neutral. “How do you know that?” I asked as he gave me a hard look.

 “Look, I found out a lot when I was investigating Jey and her for you. She’s been through a lot, just let her be happy ok,” he begged as I let out a defeated long sigh. “I will try, it’s just so hard, she’s living my dream with him,” I cried as my brother nodded in understanding.

“You will be happy sis, you just gotta heal and let this mess go,” he said comforting me. For now, I will let it be, maybe one day I’ll find my happy ending. Maybe one day Jey and I will find each other again.

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

Shantell’s POV

“Did we really get engaged last night,” I asked Jey again as he smiled brightly at me. I was still in shock as he held up my hand, showing me the ring on my finger.  “Oh, baby it’s real,” he whispered kissing my neck as I sighed turning on my side as his hand caressed my stomach.

 “I’m so huge,” I moaned as he smacked me on the ass. “No, you pregnant with our baby, and that’s all I wanna hear about it,” he growled against my ear entering me swiftly as I gasped at the intrusion.

“Mmhmm, I’m gon’ be in this pussy as much as I can, 'cause when lil man comes I can’t have you for six to eight weeks,” he groaned moving agonizingly slow inside me.

“Mhmm..You can have my mouth baby,” I moaned as he bit my ear, lifting my leg slightly, going deeper. “Oh, I plan on it and then some,” he moaned moving my hair to the side lightly biting, and sucking on my neck.“Baby, go faster,” I groaned at his slow pace.

“I don’t want to hurt you, or the baby,” Jey whispered turning my head slightly taking me in a gentle kiss. “Mmm.. We’re ok, the doctor said it was ok,” I moaned against his lips as he went deeper and deeper with each thrust.

I could hear the slight growl in his throat as he was trying to be tender and loving. “Josh, just fuck me…. Now,” I moaned, nibbling on his lip before attacking his mouth with mine as the little control he had was slipping slowly but surely.

“Shit! You want me to fuck you,” he growled against my mouth as I whimpered “Yes, Daddy,” his resolved crumbling as he snapped his hips as I began thrusting hard and rough inside me. “You wanted daddy’s dick rough huh,” he whispered against my ear as I groaned at his words and his control over my body.  

“Yes! I wanted it hard, and rough daddy!” I screamed as he took me harder “I’ll give it to you baby,” Daddy gon’ always give you what you want,” he moaned as my body was on fire. “Daddy, I’m so close,” I whimpered feeling that familiar tingling all over my body.

“Oh, I know, he taunted me grazing his thumb across my clit as I screamed in ecstasy. “Shit!  you feel so good!” I cried as he smiled against my mouth.

Jey’s POV

“Damn right it feels good, an ain’t nobody gon’ ever be able to do it like me, “I gasped as I felt her tightening around my dick. “Yea, give it all to Daddy,” I moaned as I felt her shiver with anticipation against me as I continued to thrust deeper inside her, playing with her clit, heightening her ecstasy and mine.

“Cum now Shantell, and you betta squirt all over Daddy’s dick,” I commanded as she came hard and fast on my dick. “Yeah, you always please Daddy,” I praised as I felt her relax against me trying to catch her breath. “That was amazing baby,” she moaned turning her body to face me.

“It's always amazing wit you,” I declared, just staring at her trying to wrap my mind around the fact she agreed to spend her life with me. "You know we gon' live happily ever after right?" I asked as she smiled and gently kissed me. "I know we are baby," she whispered settling into my arms.

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

Smackdown

Shantell’s POV

“Hey, it’s time for the injury spot. Camera five and seven it’s all on you,” I said as they rushed to Jey’s dressing room, finding him laid out as Trin and Tamina were screaming for help. “What happened,” Paul asked as Trin got in his face angry.

“Roman and Jimmy happened!” she yelled as he jumped back. “Camera five focus on Jey, camera seven pace between the girls and Paul,” I instructed as I felt someone come sit beside me.

“Hey Montez,” I said smiling at him as he did a little goofy wave. “Hey beautiful,” he whispered, rubbing my shoulder. “Ok, we’re closing out the show on Jey being laid out and Paul looking angry. Get ready ya’ll, EMT workers coming in hot and fast,” I said, as they rushed in moving the girls out of the way.

“Your husband and Roman are in deep trouble, my main event is ruined," Paul said angrily as Trin rolled her eyes. “You don’t think I know that! He betrayed his own brother again; I don’t know how this happened?” Trin cried. “You know Roman got to him,” Tamina said rubbing her shoulder.  

“Until we settle this, you and Tamina are going to be sent home with Jey,” he said as the girls nodded in agreement. The cameras paced between Jey’s prone body and Paul’s worried face.

“Ok we’re off the air in 5,4,3,2,1,” I said looking at Jey laying there looking almost like he’s broken in half, with his limbs contorted. I hate it when he does that.

 I took my headset off as Montez smiled again at me. “Why are you smiling?” I asked. “Well, I love to see you work, you are so intense,” he said making me laugh. “Also, I came to see the new accessory on your finger up close and personal,” he added pointing to my engagement ring.

Jey’s POV

“What the fuck does he want?” I hissed heading towards them as Solo stopped me. “Bro, she accepted your marriage proposal. She loves you, ain’t nobody bout to fuck that up, trust her,” he said pointing at Shantell as I overhead what she was saying.

“Yea, I’m engaged,” she said smiling, making my heart race. “So, are you happy?” Montez asked putting his hand on her leg as I growled. “Chill out, bro,” Solo said as Shantell took his hand off her leg and patted his hand. “Yes, I’m very happy and I wanted to tell you Thanks, for being there when I was sick. Jey told me how you called 911 and helped, “she said giving him a hug.

“It was no problem, gotta protect my friends, right?” He asked as she smiled. “Yea we do, and my first friendship act is giving you Bianca’s number, she likes you,” Shantell said laughing at the shocked look on Montez’s face.

“Girl, don’t play wit yo boy, since when she like me?” he asks stuttering. “Since developmental, I think,” she said as he gave her his phone to log in Bianca’s number.

“See nothing to worry about, that woman crazy bout yo jealous ass,” Solo muttered walking away as I approached them.

“What’s up ya’ll,” I said trying to be polite to the guy, I mean he did help save Shantell after all.

Shantell’s POV

“Hey baby, Montez was just leaving,” I said trying to avoid any conflict. “Hey, I meant no harm,” Montez started as Jey cut him off. “Tez, I just wanted to say thanks for calling 911 and helping us that night. I was a real asshole to you,” Jey said as I tried to hide my shocked face. What the hell was goin’ on here?

“It's no problem, that’s what friends do,” Montez said holding his hand out to Jey for him to shake it.  “That they do man, that they do,” Jey said shaking his hand.

“So, I heard you gon’ to try the midwife deal,” Montez said trying to keep the conversation going. “Yea, I am but I’m scared to death,” I said frowning seeing Paul head my way. “Hey, where’s the fire?” I asked as Jey and Montez started taking down the monitors for me.

“I thought I missed you,” he said giving me a hug as laughed. “Paul you gon’ see me every week, the equipment is up in my office at home.  Zoom setup is done, and it’s going to be fine, “I said reassuring him.

“I’m used to you being here, it’s just going’ to be weird is all,” he said as I hugged him again. “Hey, two months will fly by before you know it,” I assured him as we finished cleaning up. My maternity leave starts tomorrow and I'm happy that Jey and I will be home for the next two months. Baby Fatu was officially on the way.

 ---------------------------------

One Week Later

Jey & Shantell's House, Pensacola, FL

Shantell’s POV

“Hey, I don’t want ya’ll to edit my video,” I breathed as I grunted through the pain, talking to our midwife. “What you talking about baby?” Jey asked, rubbing my back trying to help me through the contraction.

 “The clips we saw had music playing, looking so peaceful. They must have been faking, cause this shit hurts,” I groaned leaning back against Jey as he continued guiding me through the contraction.

“Baby, if anybody can do this, it’s you,” he encouraged kissing my temple as Trin came into our room. “Hey, we just got the pool set up in the foyer,” she said smiling at me as I waved at her. "Thanks sis,I said as she blew me a kiss before leaving the room.

 “Do you want to move to the pool Shantell?” Sofia asked as I shook my head no, grunting through another contraction as she was moving around the room.

 I can honestly say Jey has been here every step of the way and so has Sofia. When we talked about our fear of hospitals, Sofia helped us find a midwife and doula to help us out. “Let’s get you walking to progress this labor,” Connie our midwife said handing me my robe as Jey helped me up. “Can we have a minute?” Jey asked as everyone piled out of our room.

“I can’t do this babe, what if something goes wrong?” I cried in pain as Jey pulled me close. “Yes, you can, you are so strong Shan," he said wiping the sweat from my brow as I leaned on him for support through another contraction.

"Ok, happy thoughts. Do you remember what I told you the first time we were together?” Jey asked as I smiled in spite of the pain. “Yes,” I groaned trying to push through the pain as he breathed with me.

“What did I tell you baby?” He asked as I relaxed a bit thankful the pain wasn’t as intense as it had been a few moments before. “You told me I was yours forever,” I panted as he smiled lovingly at me. “You know what else happened that night, we made our baby Shantell,” he said full of pride rubbing his hand over my stomach as I nodded in agreement.

“We’re a family, and when he’s born what did I say was gon’ happen?” he asked his eyes never leaving mine. “We’re going to live happily ever after,” I whispered totally overwhelmed as he kissed me. “Damn right, now let’s do all we can to get him here safely,” he encouraged taking me in his arms as we began walking.

-------

Jey’s POV

A few hours later I needed a break, I couldn’t stand seeing Shantell in such pain. I’ve never felt more helpless in my life.

“Ya’ll so wrong eating, and Shan can’t hold nothing down,” Trin said pointing her finger at Joe and Jimmy. “Hey, we are eating it in the kitchen, not in front of her,” Joe said smartly as Tangela slapped him on the back of the head.

 “It’s the principle,” she said giving Trin a high-five. “How is Shantell?” Solo asked as I ran my hand over my face.

“She’s good as to be expected. She’s in a lot of pain and I don’t know what to do. I can’t help her, I just wish she would have gone to the hospital,” I confessed hearing Shantell groaning in the foyer. “You just be there for her, be her strength,” Sofia said rubbing my shoulder.

 “Joshua! Bring some ice up here,” my mom said as I could hear Ma Tanya talking Shantell through a contraction. “Hey, I’ll go back wit you,” Jimmy said as I smiled. “Thanks Uce, I could really use the support, “I said honestly as he followed me back upstairs. Shantell was now in the pool, the sun was setting, our windows allowed for a beautiful view.

I could see Shantell gazing out taking in the beautiful gulf as she was trying to focus. Our doula Rose was instructing her on meditating as she was rocking back and forth trying to center herself. “Good Job Shantell accept the pain, breathe through the nose and out your mouth,” Rose said waving me over to her spot beside Shantell.

Jimmy’s POV

 I ain’t never seen nothin’ like this.  Shantell’s contractions picked up really fast after we came back upstairs about an hour ago, and she’s finally pushing. My nephew was going be born any second, man the power of a woman.  Shantell looked so exhausted but was truly a superwoman right now.

“Ahhh! I can’t push no more! I ain’t got nothing left Josh,” Shantell cried as my brother seemed to slip into another gear.  He jumped in the pool with her, pulling her between his legs, holding her as she begged him to get out. “Josh, it’s going to be blood, and everything else in this pool,” Shantell said trying to get him out.

“Do you really think I care? I ain’t going nowhere, I can shower later. Let’s get lil Uce out,” Jey encouraged as my mom was feeding her ice while Tanya was keeping a cool towel on her head. They were all working well with the midwife and doula. I stood back out of the way but was ready to jump in to help if need be.

“Shit! Ring of fire, ring of fire! Ahh!! Sorry for cussing mama!” I Shantell screamed pushing through her pain as Jey rubbed her stomach, gently kissing her neck. “I know you in pain baby, do what you gotta do,” Tanya said almost in tears, I know it had to be hard for her seeing Shantell in pain. Hell, it's breaking me down myself.

 “Lil Uce, it’s time to come on out now. Yo mama is tired son,” Jey said as Shantell relaxed against him.

Shantel’s POV

I felt a slight pop on the last push as I leaned against Jey. “You doin so damn good baby, you got this,” Jey praised as my mom kissed my cheek.

“Stop for a second Shantell, I want you and Josh to reach down and feel Connie said. Reaching down I felt some hair “Is that him?” Jey asked looking at Connie smiling. “Yes, that’s the baby’s head,” she said as I felt overwhelmed and relieved at the same time. It was almost over, and I could hold him in my arms.

“He’s almost out,” I moaned against Jey’s chest as he held me tighter, I could hear the excitement in his voice. “Yea!  He's comin' baby, he waitin' on his mama to help him out. Let’s go baby,” he said not knowing his words were making me feel like a could run a marathon if needed.

“Holy Shit! This is crazy!” Jimmy exclaimed, squatting down beside us leaning over Jeys’s shoulder in amazement as I continued to push.

“Watch yo mouth boy,” Sandra said smiling moving to the opposite side of the pool with her phone taking her own pictures. “Sorry mama,” he muttered with a smile. “He’s right there sweetheart, you can do it!" my mom exclaimed trying to keep her tears at bay.

It was like the world stopped as I felt a huge release from my body as I fell against Jey. “Looks like you got your wish Mr. Fatu, It’s a boy,” Connie said as she placed our son on my chest. His strong cries filled the foyer as I heard the cheers from downstairs.

 “Yooo! You fuckin’ superwoman you hear me baby? You can do anything baby,” Jey praised against my neck hugging me tight as I tried to control my tears looking at this little miracle we made. “We did it, Josh. We did it," I whispered wincing at the cramping I was now feeling, but it was all worth it.

“You want to cut the cord daddy?” Connie asked as Jey looked at her nervously. “If I can,” he said as she guided his hand in separating our son from the cord that had gave him nutrients while he was inside me. “I love you so much, “he whispered kissing me as I sighed against his lips.

“I love you more,” I proclaimed, kissing him again before looking down at our son. “We been waiting on you Joshua, mommy and daddy love you so much,” I whispered kissing his little head rocking him in my arms. “He’s so beautiful sweetheart,” my mom said as Jimmy rubbed Jey’s shoulder.

"Are you ok Shantell?" Connie asked as she saw me wince in pain. "I'm having some cramping," I confessed as she nodded at me in understanding.  “Shantell, we got to get the afterbirth out, that’s why you're cramping. Daddy, can we have the pool?” Connie asked Jey as he complied, kissing us both before getting out.

“Josh, you wanna hold him?” I asked, smiling tiredly as he anxiously but carefully took our son and held him against his bare chest. Little Jousha molded perfectly into his dad’s arms, grasping his finger.  “You did good sis,” Jimmy whispered looking at his nephew in amazement in his brother’s arms. “Bro, he’s here,” Jey said, his voice breaking as he cradled him closer to his chest.  

“Bro, this my son,” he whispered, breaking down covering his face with one of his arms, almost hiding himself as Jimmy wrapped his arms around his twin and nephew gently. "You did so good baby, he's perfect my mom," said hugging me as I finally felt my body relaxing truly.

Sandra walked over to her boys, placing one hand on little Joshua’s head as Jimmy pulled her closer to them. After a few minutes of silence, she began praying in Samoan over them. This is truly a day I will never forget. Little Joshua was finally here, and I couldn't be happier. Every pain I felt over these last 15 hours has been worth it and I would do it again in a heartbeat.

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

A Few hours Later

Joe’s POV

“So what’s this little guys name,” I asked caressing his little foot as Tangela held him. “His name is Josuha Edward Fatu,” Shantell said smiling as Aunt Sandra began crying. “You ok mama,” Jey asked as she waved off his concerns. “I’m good son, I just really miss your uncle sometimes. He always knew how to put me in my place,” she said as Jey laughed.

“I know he did,” he said winking at her as she smiled. “So, when is the wedding?” Trin asked taking little Joshua from Tangela.  “Guys I just pushed a baby outta my cookie jar, can we hold off about wedding plans. We ain’t even been engaged a month,” she said closing her eyes taking a deep breath as Jey laughed.

“Ya’ll heard the lady; we got plenty of time. Ya’ll just make sure you there when we tell you the date,” Jey said confidently.

Shantell’s POV

“It could even happen in a WWE Ring,” Jey said smartly as I rolled my eyes at him. “Nah, WWE ain’t bout to lights, camera, action our wedding. Not on your life Fatu, so don’t even think about it, “I said laughing at his antics.

“Hey anything can happen under them hot lights on a Friday or Monday night. Remember that’s how we met,” Jey said as I smiled in remembrance before kissing him. “Yea, I remember,” I whispered feeling so full of love for him, and our family.

I didn’t know what was next, but I knew this man was my soulmate, and I couldn’t wait to see what the future had in store for us.

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

303,550 likes

Uceyjucey ua iinei lo matou atalii (Our son is here)

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[todds-rwby-liveblog]

I NEED TO DISSECT THAT SEQUENCE UNDER A MICROSCOPEOREN S NADJSDLKS:DS I love just. I already mentioned the voice acting and the model comparisons before but OH MY GOHOHOHOHOOD. The Atlas designs really do feel like matured versions of their Beacon counterparts I am SHOOKETH that was so fucking GOOD I VLOE UP Also I'm just now noticing the shot contrast between the Beacon girls posing the offers and the Atlas girls rejecting them. The focuses on their mouths and the deceptiveness of what they're offering at first contrasted with the eye closeups and the determination/soul that comes with them. It makes me so god-damned EMO

And also Can I just

BLAKE PULLING OUT GAMBOL SHROUD'S KATANA RIGHT AS SHE SAYS "MY LIFE." THIS WEAPON HAS BEEN WITH HER THROUGH EVERYTHING. THE WHITE FANG THROUGH ADAM THROUGH HER STRUGGLES WITH HER PARENTS THROUGH TO THE HEALING SHE GOT THROUGH MEETING RWY AND YANG. FRAMING THE GOLDEN MEND RIGHT IN THE CENTRE OF THE FRAME/LIGHT. AND BC EVERYTHING ELSE IS PURPLE LIKE THAT IT JUST STANDS OUT SO MUCH EVEN THOUGH IT'S SO TINY. THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THAT MEND ON THAT BLADE IS SO FUCKING KEY TO BLAKE AS A CHARACTER. OH MY FUCKING GOD. EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO BERSERK OVER THIS. FUCKING HELL THIS WAS GORGEOUSLY DONE.

The way Yang doesn't lash out or gets aggressive but just. She's being firm but also tries to be a guide to her younger self. She knows that the way she was normally taught would be either through rushing into it and finding out the hard way or from... Tai! And that method is not ideal to say the least. He tries but pushes her in the wrong way, with a lot of insults involved in some form (lost a brain cell along with that arm, your semblance is a temper tantrum, groaning at her hesitance at wearing her arm for the first time, I wanted a better goodbye than a letter etc.). I feel like she's using this opportunity to be the type of guide she's always wanted to be for others (namely Ruby) but also the kind she wishes she had for herself in life. Her life's always set her up to be a risk-taker and rush into things head on (all the way down to her semblance) and I'm realy happy that, in a way, she's finally taking the time to tell herself that what she really needed was to slow the fuck down. It's so fucking sad but also so good I'm OUGHHGHGH. The difference between Yang and Tai is empathy and it means the world.

Weiss' section oh god Weiss' section. Her speech has been sung about to death by now but it's just so iconic of her tbh. But can I just say I freaking LOVE the way she just has so much SASS. Honestly the best way to shut down pre-Beacon Weiss is with her own poison. But a detail I spotted that I really enjoy that's kinda hard to focus on at first cus big camera movement is her head movements when she say "I am" that was peak sass. I love that so fuckin much here it is timestamped: https://youtu.be/8eoazsK1n8k?t=103

But fr tho, I love the way she points her sword right at younger Weiss' nose like that.

Also the differences in the two's silhouettes and colours is some of my favourites, I love the contrast between the white laced with that tiny bit of red for rebellion and really faded Blue, only to over time gradually gain much bolder, more vibrant colours and a bigger form. Her v1 design is my favourite shape-wise still but if this isn't a massive parallel to how Blake's designs have evolved over the years idk what is.

Also I love the way she looks so confident when she plants Myrtenaster in the ground. Reminds me of Arma Gigas planting its sword to the ground in this context. She really reclaimed it so fucking hard in this scene I am going to blow up

Like look at them and tell me which one is the stronger individual here. Bro

Framing Ruby like this

FOUL. VILE. EVIL EVIL EVIL.

Single spotlight of silver light. With the Indomitable scene, the track Miracle, the talk with Maria, her mom... from her eyes, everything rests on her and it all starts with those fuckass iris pigments. Qrow told her she was destined for the life of a warrior but oh god why did it have to be like this. She's completely overtaken by her failure to her legacy as a continuation of a literal fucking myth in so many different ways I'm gonna snap

[idontknowreallywhy]

Ok, I had a couple of hours in a hospital waiting room today so before I forgot the threads of where this story was going, I typed it all into notepad and well here it is, unedited as I think I’m next on the list to be called in and then I’ll have to go back to work and maybe after all that I’ll lose my nerve again.

We’ve not got to the answer yet, but here is some more Virgil pondering / reminiscing along the way…

Ch 2 - Muscle Memory

Virgil was 8-and-three-quarters when he had his first proper piano lesson. It was much too late.

The teacher had lamented it on a weekly basis. It was a such shame, she sighed, that the raw talent Virgil displayed was unlikely ever to amount to anything now. Everyone who knew about such things said all the greats were in formal training from their early years. It was very sad, apparently.

Nearly-9 Virgil didn’t pay all this much heed, he never intended to be a ‘great’ anything. He only wanted to play as many tunes as he could and the only person he truly cared about enjoying it was his Mommy.

Virgil’s only interest in those much vaunted ‘greats’ had been in watching them carefully in online videos to learn how they managed to make the leap from this chord to that melody line or how to adjust his hand position, just… so, in order to play that nippy little counter-melody that his fingers had stumbled over. So it became that, by the age of 10, with little formal training, he was beginning to exceed his mother’s technical ability (albeit he’d allow nobody to make such a comment, not even her).

And anyway, he’d been learning to play his whole life. One of their Christmas traditions, after Virgil had played the variations on carols he’d worked on for the occasion was to play family videos on the holoprojector. Every time, he’d blush as his last festive chord began to fade away because at that moment John would fire up the first one and it was always the same.

Wobbly home footage from the ‘30s showed himself as a round-cheeked 6 month old sat on Mommy’s lap at her piano, mashing the keys with his chubby fists and kicking his little legs in delight, while toddler Scotty squealed “Virgie’s playing Pan-eeeo” in the background and his Dad chuckled fondly from behind the camera. Focussed mainly on the objectively adorable infant, the camera panned up only for 0.87 of a second to show his Mom gazing fondly at the back of his fuzzy head. Yes, he had a screenshot of that moment saved on his tablet for… well, the harder times.

He smiled as he recalled the next part of the tradition - just before they all risked getting melancholy, Gordon would leap on to his lap and impersonate baby Virgil with passionate abandon, while Scott was prevailed upon to do an impression of his squeaky toddler-self (come to think of it, that impression sounded a heck of a lot like present day Alan but best not mention that to the poor kid).

Since that famous moment he and his mom had spent time together by that piano most days, either together, with her initially guiding his hands and eventually simple duets, or each quietly sat listening to the other play.

It was his school teacher, on hearing him practise snippets of a Mozart concerto on the music room piano at lunch times who had suggested the local instrumental teacher - a jack of all trades who could play any instrument decently but clearly wasn’t inspired by her day job. That first teacher didn’t last long in the end, not when her criticisms were overhead by a certain Jefferson Tracy who took exception to anyone who told one of his boys they couldn’t be great at anything they chose to be great at. ‘Proper’ lessons ceased while his parents sought somebody who would be more interested in nurturing Virgil for himself rather than in raising ‘the next great prodigy’. Unfortunately there weren’t many options in the wilds of Kansas so things lapsed for a while and, well, events intervened and everyone lost focus on the fun stuff.

The months after Mom died were quiet. It wasn’t that his family didn’t want him to play. It was just that the sound of the piano was so heavily associated with their mother that inevitably one of his brothers would choke up and rush from the room or Dad would go still and pale. He loved his family dearly and couldn’t bear to hurt them more, even though ceasing the activity they’d bonded over made him feel he was losing her all over again - he couldn’t just… stop.

So he’d skip lunch and monopolise the school piano, stay late some days, sometimes bolt down breakfast to get to school early and squeeze in some precious minutes before slipping into the back of his classroom late when he’d got carried away. But it… it. wasn’t. enough. The satisfaction in his playing was gone. The music itself was somehow gone, replaced by a queasy kind of desperation. He just didn’t have enough time to master the difficult phrases and his hands trembled with frustration and urgency because he only had 20 mins before he had to sit through double chemistry… He was hungry and tired but she’d loved this piece and he just needed to get it RIGHT.

It was Scott who saved him. Aware of Virgil’s frequent absence from the school canteen and not being able to bear the look on his best friend’s face when he forced himself to walk past the piano stool he came up with a plan and raided the savings he’d earmarked for the air cadets trip that summer. One evening when he slunk home late and went to collapse in the room he shared with his big brother he found a small electric piano squeezed into the space at the end of his bed, with a top -end pair of headphones perched on top. Big brother followed him in and watched with a small smile. Virgil had thrown himself at the boy across the room and babbled incoherent gratitude into his chest through oh-so-snotty tears-oh-Scott-your-hoodie-sorry and they’d clung to each other for what felt like hours until Scott had suggested maybe he should actually give the thing a go.

That was the first step in his music returning to him. The second was an unrelated conversation with Gordon.

The kid would ramble on at length about something that had caught his imagination and Virgil was the best at showing an interest which meant he learned a lot more lobster facts than he ever thought he’d need. When Gordon discovered that there were people who did swimming races AS THEIR JOB, Virgil was regaled with the training regimes of famous aquatic athletes and mostly smiled and nodded until one morning at breakfast Gordon started babbling about visualisation and how one could increase fitness and build muscle memory with their imagination.

From that moment, Virgil rarely travelled anywhere without an earbud in his right ear and twitching fingers. In fairness he never got very good at maintaining the “imagination” part… on long trips home in Two when Gordon had dozed off in the co-pilot seat, he’d quietly select a Rachmaninov concerto and ‘play’ it through secretly and silently while gazing out the windscreen. His brother, never a heavy sleeper, would crack an eye and watch with a little smile as his brother would slip into “air piano” at what must have been particularly dramatic moments. The expression of joy on his big brother bear’s face was an immediate antidote to the temptation to tease and Gordon kept it to himself, feeling privileged to have seen his brother entirely care-free.

Virgil didn’t visualise piano while he painted though. You can’t play piano (even in your mind) while holding a brush - he’d tried a few times and ended up dropping it. So when alone in his studio he picked non-piano pieces as a soundtrack to his artistic expression.

So yeah, it wasn’t air-piano behind the paint splatters either. Virgil lay on the floor and stared up at the purple starburst that had appeared at some point over the last 24 hours. He was coming to the conclusion his studio was definitely haunted.

…..

Note: this is what Gordon catches Virg ‘playing’ on long trips home in TB2… initially it’s just the bass notes where he gets a flickr of the left hand little finger but by the time the solo kicks off at 2.15 in, he’s in full air piano mode…

[shina913]

Scions, Ch.8c | Kim Line + JHS

Scions, 8c

sci·​on | \ ˈsī-ən \ Definition:(1)a descendant(2) a shoot or twig, especially one cut for grafting or planting

✼Scions Masterlist✼

Pairing: Fem!Reader Sister + Kim Brothers; JHS x Fem!Reader

Rating: M (🔞)

Genre: Siblings!AU; Marriage!AU; FWB!AU; exes to ?; Mom!Reader; Brother’s Best Friend; drama; angst; smut; fluff

Warnings: ANGST!!!; DRAMA!!!; sibling bickering; soft sibling moments; cussing; multiple POV switches; mentions of character death; parenting frustrations; alcohol consumption; vulnerable confessions; cussing; pining; unrequited love; mentions of divorce/separation; emotional outbursts; mourning; it just hurts 🥴

Word count: 5.5K+

Summary: Four grown siblings return to their childhood hometown after their father is declared to be terminal. They are forced to live under the same roof for days, along with their overbearing mother, to say their final goodbyes. It starts off nostalgic until some unresolved family issues along with an assortment of spouses, exes, and might-have-beens make things even more interesting.

A/N: Third of three mini-updates! This chapter contains callbacks from the supplement, Sunshine. I think(?) I've added enough context to this chapter so that you wouldn't have to read it to get the references but you can read it if you feel that the gaps are too wide.

Thank you to my loves, @internetjunkdrawer and @itdoesntmatterwhy for reading through this angst-fest. I appreciate you both 💜

A/N2: There are some elements of The Notebook here that I adopted because…it’s one of my fave *exes to lovers* stories 🥹

You sidle up to Namjoon, who was hunched over at a booth all by himself, scribbling some words over some cocktail napkins.

“You know, Yoongi-oppa will be pissed that you’re littering.” You fidgeted at a balled-up napkin.

“Well, it’s good I’m best friends with the owner then,” he deadpans without looking up at you.

You scoff, then begin to unfurl the piece closest to you.

“My love, don't look back anymore / Behind the clearly mixed memories / These remaining lives stay like a bonus,” you read out loud. “New song?”

He hummed noncommittally. “I don’t know yet. I’m just writing whatever comes to mind.”

You picked up another crumpled-up napkin to take a look. “You can't love someone like I do / That's all I can say to you.” You blew out a breath. “Oof…is this the makings of your own version of Beyonce’s ‘Lemonade’?”

He chuckled. “Well, as it happens, life is currently giving me a lot of lemons so…”

You hold back a laugh upon hearing his answer. “Will you record it?”

He snorted. “If my usual guy can’t do it, I’ll probably do the guide myself.”

“No, I mean–will you record it for yourself?"

He pauses his scribbling and finally looks up at you incredulously as if you’d just given him a very complicated math problem.

“What? You have a good voice. You’re signed to a record label, technically…”

“Sure, YN. And how many drinks have you had?” He cocked an eyebrow at you.

You roll your eyes at him. "Relax! I'm good. And let's not change the subject!" Turning your body sideways to face him, you add, "I've heard your demos before. You've got that raspy voice thing going on that's very popular with the ladies," and snort.

His mouth twitches and grows into a shy smile, his dimple deepening. "Thanks... I guess." He knows you would never give him a backhanded compliment. Before Victoria came along, you were always one of the first people he would call whenever he had an idea for a new song. Even though you weren't as good with words as he was, he always said that you made the perfect brainstorming partner.

He begins to gather the handful of napkins and stack them in the order he intended the words to flow. After pocketing them, he pauses and puckers his lips.

“Can I actually have those back?” He points to the two discarded pieces that you read words from. You pick them up and hand them back to him; after which, he mouths his thanks.

“Will you be adding those to that secret mixtape that you’ve been working on forever?”

“Maybe.” He follows his response with an enigmatic smirk.

For years, Namjoon had talked about releasing a mixtape of songs that he had saved just for himself. Every now and then, he would unearth it from the depths of his hard drive, make some tweaks to the instruments or vocals, listen to it again, make more edits, and when he had poured out all of his neuroses into his tracks, he would close it out, not giving it another thought for another few months.

“So,” he asks, attempting to change the subject. “Where did he jet off to this time?”

You hesitate as Namjoon didn't have to say who he was referring to. Even though the rest of your family already knew about what you and Sam had decided, telling Namjoon felt like a difficult task. It wasn't just because he had resented your relationship early on, but also because part of you wanted to prove him wrong...and you managed to do that for a few years.

It was difficult because not only did you fail, but you also feared that Namjoon would take this as a moment of vindication.

"Kuala Lumpur," you said, taking a long swig of your drink and turning your face away from Namjoon. After allowing a few seconds for the drink to settle in your stomach, you clear your throat and decide that now was as good a time as any other. “When he comes back, we’re meeting with lawyers present.”

You and Sam had agreed to explain everything to the kids when he returned from his trip in two weeks. You wanted to buy some time for them…a few more days of innocent bliss.

You turned to look at Namjoon again. Apart from the slight crease between his eyebrows, the rest of his face was calm. That crease was still telling. It was the expression he wore while bracing himself for all the facts that he was about to bless you with.

It was also the same face that your father used to make.

But those litanies of factoids and inner thoughts would never make it past Namjoon’s lips. Instead, he quietly takes a sip of his whisky again before speaking.

Putting down his glass, he says, "I was wondering if you were ever going to open up about what was going on between you and Sam. I didn't want to push because I figured you weren't ready. So, I thought I'd wait patiently until you were."

Your eyes watered as guilt consumed you in the past few months, even as he bawled in front of you with everything going on in his own marriage. "I'm sorry, oppa—"

"You don't have to apologize. You never have to when it comes to things like this. We're both adults," he said, consoling you.

You pursed your lips, regret still on your face.

"Although I hope you'll forgive me for my childish thoughts about this, I'm a little upset that you couldn't trust me. I mean," he chuckled bitterly, "have you not seen how my marriage ended?"

"It's just that I know how you've always felt about Sam," you stammered, your shoulders rising defensively. Your eyes flit downward as you turn away from him again.

"Are you sure that's not just your pride talking?" he raises a questioning eyebrow at you.

Taken aback by his skepticism, you pause. But then you remember the promise you made to yourself years ago. You were going to make it work with Sam, no matter what.

"I'll admit, some of it was pride," you concede. "I just thought he and I could get through it."

Namjoon's hesitation was evident in his eyes as he regarded you. Eventually, he let out a deep sigh. "I know that Sam and I haven't had the greatest relationship, and I know it's caused a rift between you and me. That was selfish, and I'm really sorry."

You reach over to grab his free hand while the other clutches his glass. "I never held that against you."

“Yeah, but I know that we never really talked about it. I saw how he took care of you and the kids. For what it’s worth, I respected him for that.“

You smile ruefully. “Thank you. That means something. Unfortunately, Sam and I had deeper issues that counseling just couldn’t fix.”

His face falls. “Still–”

“Can we just leave all that behind?” you calmly interrupt. “Our relationships with our spouses may not have worked out, but things will always be good between us, right?”

He looks at you silently for a moment, then sighs softly, a small smile creeping up to his lips. “Always.”

You smile back and wrap your arm around his elbow. Tilting your head sideways, you lean on his shoulder. He mirrors your action, tilting his head and touching the crown of your head.

“You know, when we were kids, I always hated it whenever you copied everything that I did.”

You playfully smack his arm. “Excuse you? Who’s copying whom? My marriage has been falling apart for years, so I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“I filed for divorce first,” he retorts.

You frown at him for a second, but since can’t think of a quick comeback, you stick your tongue out cheekily at him instead.

He throws his head back in laughter. "Not that I needed further confirmation to know that Jooni is in fact your daughter," he chortles.

You give him another playful shove, and you both fall into fits of laughter.

"God, is it weird that we're laughing about this? What would Dad say?"

Namjoon sighs, then turns pensive. "I think he'd pour us both shots and say, 'Cheer up, guys! At least you didn't die'."

Your mouth falls open in shock, and you stare at each other. After a few beats of silence, you both start cackling again.

The joke would have been very on-brand for your father. He always had a way with words and knew the right ones to say in any given situation.

"If you're not laughing, you're crying, right?" he says.

Not that you needed further confirmation that Namjoon was, in fact, your father’s son.

******

Taehyung walks Eunhae out to the parking lot. The chilly air hits them both as they step outside.

“Are you sure you’re good to drive?” Taehyung asks, concerned.

Eunhae smiles reassuringly. “I had one drink over an hour ago and my hotel’s just right down the street.”

“Alright. Thanks for coming out,” Taehyung says. He sinks his hands in his pockets as he lingers for a moment, reluctant to let her go.

She gives him a small smile in return. “Thanks for having me.”

Taehyung stands on the curb, watching her fish her keys out of her purse. The spot she parked at was a little dark and she was having trouble. He walks up to her and switches on the flashlight in his phone to help. While she rummages through her things, he can't help but notice the way her hair falls softly over her face and her scent wafts through the air.

She’s grateful for the extra light, only to see a big hole at the bottom of her purse’s lining. She puts her hand inside and feels around until she finds her keys. She turns to thank Taehyung, but he's standing too close to her. She remembers the night before when they were just as close. She feels a shiver run through her as she notices the way he's looking at her. He leans in, but she pulls away, feeling a rush of emotions.

“Uh–t-thanks, Tae. I…I think I have everything I need.” She stutters.

Taehyung frowns a little, but he blinks it away. "Sure. Happy to help," he mutters, kicking himself for not being more confident.

Eunhae unlocks her car quickly but as she is about to get into the driver's seat she stops when she hears Taehyung blurt out, "I need them." 

Puzzled by his sudden outburst, she turns to face him. "Sorry, what?"

You previously expressed concerns about him not defining his relationship with Eunhae, but he dismissed them. Tonight, during their spirited conversation, he was reminded of it again. He couldn’t just sit back and wait until he got back to the city without bringing it up to Eunhae.

“The labels – I need them," he answered, clearly having had a change of heart since then.

“Tae–”

"I know I said it didn't matter to me before, but I don't feel that way anymore," he admits. "I'd be lying to myself if I said I was still okay with this,” he gestures at the space between them. “It's just not what I want."

She looks at him closely. Truthfully, she had sensed a shift in their relationship. Under normal circumstances, she would never go out of her way to drive to a small town just to spend time with a guy and his family if he was ‘just a good friend with whom she occasionally slept with’.

“What do you want?” She waits for him to speak.

After a short silence, he took a deep breath and asked a question that had been on his mind for a while: "Is this going anywhere? Whatever this is between us?"

She closes her eyes briefly before answering. "Don't answer a question with a question, Taehyung," she scolds him gently.

Taehyung looked down at his hands, fidgeting nervously. "I just want to be sure," he said after a moment.

Eunhae's heart sank a little at his words, but she didn't let it show. She was familiar with his cautious and indecisive nature, which was holding her back. She wanted to protect herself, especially her heart.

"You always say that. Every time you do something or make a decision, you say, 'I just want to be sure.' Is it because you actually want to be sure, or because you're unsure of yourself?"

He paused. His family always said that he approached everything carefully. He couldn't help but wonder if he was really unsure of himself or if he was just a serial overthinker.

But then his father’s words come flooding back to him: Make a decision. And deciding not to decide doesn’t count!

“What if…what if we actually gave this a try? You know, a relationship?”

She sighs in mild exasperation. “Tae, we’ve talked about this. We said—”

“I know,” he interrupts softly. “I know what I said but lately, I feel differently and I just thought I’d take a chance and find out whether you might be willing to do that, too?”

Eunhae puffed out her cheeks and blew out a shaky breath. “Look, maybe we should wait until we get back to the city. You’re going through a lot. You’ve had a few drinks, you’re emotional—”

"I'm aware of all that," Taehyung acknowledges. "And I want you to know that I would never force you to do something that you don't want to do. It’s just that," he pauses and bites down on his lower lip, "I guess I'm wondering if maybe this is something you also want?”

Eunhae grew tired of getting disappointed in her past relationships, so she decided to focus on herself after moving to the city. However, meeting Taehyung changed everything. The more time she spent with him, the more she realized he was different. She started opening up and being vulnerable around him. Despite trying to distance herself, her feelings for him only grew stronger during their last night together in the city. Not only did those feelings linger during her time with him and his family in his hometown, but they also deepened.

Her pulse begins to race as she tries to come to terms with how she feels. With some hesitation, she finally whispers, "I'm scared.”

Her admission makes Taehyung’s heart squeeze, giving him a glimmer of hope. He chuckles wryly, understanding her apprehension. "And you think I'm not?" he replies.

As they stand in silence, Eunhae couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions–excitement, fear, and uncertainty.

"I feel like I'm saying it all wrong and I'm fucking this up--" he says, his voice trailing off. The words seem to catch in his throat, and he swallows hard before he continues.

"No," she interrupts him, stepping closer until she is standing right in front of him. She takes his face gently in her hands, tilting it up so that their eyes meet. "You're not fucking anything up. You're doing just fine," she reassures him softly with a warm and sincere voice.

With that, he feels the tension in his body start to ease. He wraps his hands gently around hers. "If you're okay with it, can we talk some more in the morning?"

She smiles at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Of course," she says softly. "I'll be here." As she speaks, he feels a sense of comfort wash over him, a feeling that everything is going to be okay between them.

She turns around to get back in her car but he stops her again. “Yeah?”

He steps closer and takes her hand. He brings it up to his lips and kisses the underside of her wrist. His lips touching her skin sends shivers down her spine. Pulling him closer, she tenderly kisses him. She sighs in contentment, as if eagerly anticipating this moment just as much as he was.

Minutes later, he watches her car drive away, and her taillights fade into the dark night. He smiles to himself, envisioning a future together and the possibilities that lie ahead.

******

You excuse yourself from a few friends whom you were catching up with to return a work call. Although your managers and colleagues sympathized, you also left abruptly to be with your family, and had only been working intermittently in the last week.

There was still work to be done, and you didn't mind checking in. You could have waited until tomorrow to answer your colleague's question, but instead, you stepped outside the bar to stand in a quiet corner by the dumpsters, away from a couple of Hobi's kitchen staff who were smoking on the patio.

"Are you sure you've got it?" you ask your colleague on the other end of the line, prompting them to ask any further questions.

As you listen to your colleague's assurance, you are unaware that Hobi is walking out of the side door, clutching two full garbage bags in his hands.

"Great, thanks. And please tell everyone that my family appreciates the flowers and sympathy card. Have a good night," you say before hanging up.

Your phone pings as you pull it away from your ear, signaling a new email alert from Sam. You open the attached document to find that it’s a petition for divorce. Sam adds in his message that his lawyer advised him to act quickly to avoid administrative costs. This only adds to your disappointment and frustration, as you were supposed to figure out all the logistics when he got back.

Guess the plan’s changed again.

As the reality of the situation sinks in, you shake your head gently. Even though you both decided to end the marriage, it still sucks to see it written on paper.

Feeling overwhelmed and frustrated, take a few deep breaths to try to keep it together. Exhale and allow yourself a moment to feel the emotions that are starting to consume you. You can feel your throat tightening as you try to hold back the tears, but eventually, they start to fall.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, doubling over, your hands on your knees. It’s okay to feel this way, you remind yourself. It’s perfectly normal to have moments of weakness…have a little cry before you rejoin the others.

“Are you okay?”

Hearing his voice, you quickly wipe off your tears. Turning your head, you see Hobi with a curious expression, making you feel slightly embarrassed.

“Oh, hey,” you force a smile. “I’m okay. Just…needed some air, that’s all.” You wonder how long he’d been standing there and how much he's seen.

He stands there for a few seconds, regarding you. Then, he nods sympathetically. “I get it.”

The guys who were smoking call out to their boss and Hobi briefly acknowledges them, thanking them for all their help tonight.

Hobi turns to you, and you both stare at each other. A sob escapes you, and he quickly rushes to your side, embracing you tightly. You bury your face in his chest and cry, feeling safe in his arms as you ride out all of the pent-up emotions you had in you. His steady heartbeat against your cheek is a small comfort in the midst of your pain.

“Shhh, it’ll be okay,” he whispers softly. “I know it doesn’t seem like it right now but it will be. After some time, it’ll hurt less and less.”

As you listen to his words, you can't help but feel a sense of irony. How can he know that everything will be okay? How can he promise that the pain will lessen with time?

“Is that what you told yourself?” You ask when you lift your head up.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “I…I’m not sure I understand.”

Hobi suffered the loss of his father a few years ago, which is where his sentiment is coming from. However, after consuming several drinks and experiencing exhaustion and grief, you decide to bring up old, unfinished business.

You push off him and take a step back. “Did you tell yourself that—about us—when you left? Because that’s what I kept telling myself when you walked out. And you know what? It didn’t really work out for me.” Not only were you being childish but you were also projecting.

“YN—“

“Why would you do that? How could you leave me?”

He is dumbstruck by your sudden attack. This was not how he pictured the conversation going. "I left you? Are you serious right now?" he asks incredulously.

You shoot him a wry look. "I'm pretty sure you walked out that door, Hoseok," you say, your voice laced with frustration and anger.

Hoseok lets out a humorless laugh. "Because you told me to leave!" he retorts, his voice bitter.

The memory of him leaving is seared into your mind, yet he seems to have forgotten everything else that led up to it.

"I thought that after everything we went through, you would stick it out just a little bit more, for me!"

"I did!" he yells indignantly before catching himself. Losing his temper won't solve anything. He takes a deep breath to calm himself down. "It's just... I had a moment of weakness and needed to figure things out," he explains. "Walking out on you was the most bone-headed move I ever made. I regretted it the second I got home. I was fucking miserable!"

"But you still left me," you whimper pathetically. You're not sure what you hope to achieve.

"I came back," he whispers.

“When?” you ask unconvinced, struggling to process the fact that he had returned without your knowledge. In fact, he came back a month after, during which time you had hastily moved out of the apartment you shared. You had temporarily moved in with Namjoon until you found something more permanent. It was also during this gap that you met Sam.

“Did Namjoon know?” you ask, desperate for answers.

“Nobody knew,” he responds, his voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted to surprise you so I waited by the coffee shop across from Namjoon’s place. But then…I saw you with…him.”

You stare at him incredulously. “And you didn’t think to approach me?”

He looks down at his feet, his voice soft. "He made you laugh," he says, ignoring your question. "I used to do that, you know?" He had wanted nothing more than to beg for your forgiveness, to comfort you, and make you smile again. Instead, he couldn't help but think back to the memory burned into his brain: you with your bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

“So I went home with my tail between my legs. Then one day, Joon told me that you were getting married. Do you know what that day was like for me?”

"I think I might have an idea," you mutter in a smart-ass manner.

"No, YN! You don't know half of it! Do you know what it's like to have your airway cut off? Huh? Do you know what it feels like to desperately gasp for air so you won't feel like you're going to die?"

“You say that as if you were the only one who felt like dying that day!” You sobbed, feeling some regret.

“And yet you still married him!”

Hobi didn't know that you married Sam because you got pregnant. Sam wanted to be responsible and proposed to you. It wasn't ideal and not what you pictured for yourself. The fact was that your baby needed their father, and you were trying to do right by your child.

"It's the money, isn't it? You married him because he had some big-shot city job raking in tons of cash?"

His accusation stings you. "Is that what you think of me? After all these years, that's your perception of me?"

“Look, I get it. I get the appeal,” Hobi says. “He was successful; how could I compete with that? I’m just the small-town guy, the boy who lived next door. What do I have to offer?”

"Really, Hobi? Self-deprecation? That's great," you sarcastically interject.

"I would have loved to keep you for myself, to hold onto you, but that would have been unfair." His dad had also fallen ill shortly after he returned home. "At least you got to live your dream. You got to marry the guy meant for you, and you had a family together. If I were in his place, I would have just held you back. If I had been in his place, your dreams would have remained just that—dreams."

All the talk about Sam being ‘the guy meant for you’ was giving you a headache. Exasperated and tired, you snapped, "If you wanted to be in his place, you should have just done that to begin with!" With that, you abruptly walked away from him.

Taken aback, he felt a flash of déjà vu from the past - the day he drove you home after your old high school boyfriend dumped you. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. This was not how he wanted the conversation to go. "Sunshine, wait!" he called out.

But his term of endearment only riled you up further. You turned your head slightly and yelled over your shoulder, "Stop calling me that!"

"Why?" He asks.

You stop and turn around, seething. "Because I don't like it!"

"You're a shitty liar, you know that?" he shoots back.

You jerk your head in disgust. "And you're a smug asshole, Jung Hoseok," you spit out.

You turn to leave, but he yells after you, "YN, come on. Let's talk about this, please?"

"No!" Fucking nerve he has.

He puffs out his chest and shouts, "If you keep walking away from me, then I hate you!"

If Yoongi didn't have the speaker volumes all the way up, an audience would be gathering around you right now. You turn around and glare at him. "Oh really? You hate me?"

"Yes, I hate you! And I especially hate that after all this time, you still walk away from arguments just so you can get the last word."

You scoff. "Wow. Nice. This was exactly what I needed to hear from you tonight," you say sarcastically before walking away once again.

"See? It's true! You always get the last word, and that's because your dad and brothers always treated you like a princess. Well, I'm done with that!"

You square your jaw and scowl at his audacity. "Oh, you're done?" You mock him.

"Yeah, I'm done. So done!"

Slowly, he advances toward you. "I'm done thinking about whether you get enough sleep or if you work too much and forget to eat. I'm done wondering if Sam cooks for you. And when you're sick? Oh my god--especially when you get sick! You get so whiny! Does he make you soup? Does he..." he represses a growl. "Fuck it! I don't want to think about all of that anymore. I'm done with these thoughts of you filling my brain night and day."

The raw emotion in his outburst sobers you up. You believed that he forgot about you, but instead, he has been holding onto memories of you all this time. Memories that have kept him up at night, replaying in his mind like an endless loop.

”I’m done.” He says softly.

As seconds pass, his face softens and he continues to stare at you.

You try to respond, but the words get stuck in your throat. Instead, you throw your arms around him in a tight embrace, holding onto him for dear life. You feel the warmth of his body against yours, and for a moment, all the anger you had slowly fades.

After a few moments, Hobi gently pulls away, his hands still on your back. He looks down at you, his eyes softening as he sees your tears. He wipes them away with his thumb, his touch gentle and comforting.

As he cups your cheeks in his hands and gazes at you, you can't help but feel a sense of longing. You tilt your chin up slightly. He's unsure at first, afraid that he might be crossing a boundary. You stroke his cheekbone wordlessly to assure him. You lean in closer.

He gives in and closes the gap between your lips.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, but then it deepens, and you lose yourselves in the sensation, feeling his arms wrap around you as you savor the moment. Your pulse races as his lips move against yours, and you can't remember the last time you felt passion like this.

“Hobah, are you–”

You jump in surprise at Yoongi's voice from behind. You and Hobi quickly back away from each other, turning around and hoping Yoongi didn't notice how flustered you were.

"I was just coming back in, hyung!" Hobi says in a panic. "What's up?" His hand creeps behind his neck, rubbing it nervously while trying to sneak glances at you.

"Oh," Yoongi says, trying to hide his amusement. "I was gonna ask you something but it’s not urgent.”

With a slight nod, Yoongi disappears through the side door again, leaving you and Hobi standing there, worried about how much he saw...or if he saw anything at all.

Not long after, the front door opens and Namjoon appears. "There you are!"

You jump again. "What? I wasn't doing anything," you say anxiously.

"I didn't say you were," Namjoon says slowly. "Listen, we should probably let Hoseok know—Oh, you're here too?" he says, looking at both of you skeptically.

"What is it? What do you want?" Your tone is suspiciously aggressive.

Namjoon squints for a second but decides not to ask why you were acting weird. "Okay, chill,” he chuckled softly. “I was just gonna say, it’s getting late and Jin-hyung doesn’t want to stay out too long since Yoojung-noona isn’t 100% yet, so he’s asking me to round everybody up."

Hobi is standing there like a deer in headlights--the same look he had when Namjoon decided to confront both of you after catching you kissing back in high school.

"Great, I'll just go get my purse." You excuse yourself hastily and turn to head back inside.

Hobi stands there, unsure of what to do. Namjoon asks, “Is she okay? What did–”

“Nothing happened,” he says too quickly. “I mean, she’s okay, I think. We were just talking and…things got a little emotional. I…I was trying to comfort her,” he tries to explain.

Namjoon’s eyebrow twitches for a second, but his expression turns somber. “I appreciate you being there for her…you know, even after everything that’s happened.”

Hobi nods. Namjoon was initially upset with Hobi for moving back home without you, but what could he do? You were both adults, and your father had already scolded both of you separately. Namjoon decided to help you get back on track as much as he could.

Standing next to his friend, Namjoon takes a deep breath. "Who would have thought, huh? Two divorces in our family. First me, and now YN," he says, shaking his head.

Hobi's mouth falls open. He knew about Namjoon and Vee's divorce, but he was unaware of yours. He is unsure how to react. In a span of minutes, he confronted you about your past, lashed out at you, and you kissed.

He couldn’t help but summarize it in the most ironic way he could think of. “I’m sure that wasn’t in your dad’s bingo card,” he attempts to say in jest to mask his shock. 

Namjoon chuckles softly, appreciating the joke but completely unaware of the multiple connotations behind the remark. "Thanks for tonight.”

“Of course,” he answers before the two hug. “Love you, bro,” Namjoon says, patting his friend’s back gently.

******

You and your brothers bid farewell to the remaining guests. Naya embraces you warmly, and you promise to have dinner together one of these weekends. Jimin has decided to leave his car behind and take a cab home instead.

Your brothers exchange hugs with Hobi, thanking him profusely for hosting the celebration. They start walking out the door and towards the van.

Finally, it's your turn to say goodbye to your host. You come up behind Taehyung, who seems to be feeling better. You make a mental note to ask him about it later.

After thanking and hugging Yoongi, he clears his throat loudly and excuses himself to wipe some tables.

"Thanks again for tonight," you say quietly, the memory of him kissing you still nagging at you.

"You're welcome. It was a no-brainer for me," he replies.

You smile awkwardly before embracing him. While he holds you tightly in his arms, he whispers, "I'd do anything for your family...especially for you, Sunshine."

Your heart wrenches. Even after the hurtful things you've said to him, you're not sure you deserve his kindness.

As the van pulls out of the parking lot, you look through one of the windows and spot Hobi by the bar putting away some beer bottles, and to your surprise, Dara comes up behind him and caresses his cheek.

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