#please let me know if I need to change anything! o/

[seeingteacupsindragons]

The Use of the Heart

Good evening, followers! I've got a new story for y'all. ~9.8k words. Yeah, this one's long. If you'd like to toss me a tip for it, you can drop one on my ko-fi page here. It...did take me three weeks to write this one.

Avery hadn’t gotten more than a foot out of the carriage after his sister before she was whisked away to meet her new husband. He stumbled the rest of the way out onto the stone courtyard and nearly fell on his face. “Wai—”

He bit his tongue before he could finish the protest. They were here so Lisette could meet her new husband. If the crown prince wanted to meet her fresh off the ship that had brought them here, smelling like dead fish and stale sweat from not being able to properly bathe for two weeks, then…

Then, well, at least all the treaties were already signed in case he changed his mind.

Avery righted himself. The handful of attendants Lisette had brought with her were already busy unloading her trunks and consulting with people he didn’t recognize—probably their counterparts in Alham. They would know where he was meant to go.

He made a beeline for Robin, the woman in charge of his sister’s affairs, who was blushing and smiling at a man with dark hair and neat, plain clothes in the dark blue that was Alham’s royal colors. Someone who worked for Lisette’s new husband, maybe. He pointed Robin off, and Avery immediately took her place. “Hello. I was hoping you could help me.”

The man gave him a once over that no one had ever given Avery before, then said, “With what exactly?”

“I’ve just arrived with the rest of the contingent from Ensheren. I was hoping you knew where to steer me.”

“You don’t already know what you should be doing?”

Avery’s face turned an unflattering shade of pink at the incredulity in his voice. “I’m only here to keep my sister company and help her settle into her new home. Unfortunately, as she’s already been escorted off without me to see her new husband, I’m at loose ends in the meantime. You could tell me where her rooms are and I can start there.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Siste—Ensheren sent one of its princes? Your Highness, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t told you were coming.”

Avery’s heel dug into the stone under the sole of his boot, twisting anxiously. He was too tired to deal with this. “Not one of the important ones, I’m afraid. After you’ve had your heir, your spare, your backup spare, one to handle the people, and one to handle the military, you run out of things to do with princes.”

One dark eyebrow went up. “Your parents had quite a few children.”

“They were hoping for Lisette after the second set of twins,” Avery said. “My name is Avery. And I really am here to help my sister adjust. If you could tell me where her rooms are, that would be a good start. I can help set it up for her before she returns.”

The man stared at him quietly for another long moment before saying, “Your Highness…I apologize for the bluntness, but you look like you’re about to keel over. I don’t think you’ll be much help with anything your sister needs. Give me a moment to settle things here.” He reached out and steadied Avery’s arm, and Avery was startled to find he’d been listing to one side. “You’ll be okay to wait?”

Avery nodded, and shook himself to wake up a bit more. It had taken him the entire two weeks to stop vomiting over the edge of the ship, just in time to land and find his legs wobbly again.

The man frowned at him, but let go and turned away to speak to some of the others bustling back and forth over the courtyard while Avery tried to gain his footing. He hadn’t felt so bad sitting in the carriage, but now that he was standing in full sun without Lisette, his vision was starting to blur with exhaustion.

Fortunately, his guide was back before Avery could do something stupid, like pass out on the stone in front of everyone. And he frowned the second he saw Avery. “Would you like an arm?”

Avery paused for a second. Then he said, “Yes. Please. Thank you. Whatever accepts the offer fastest.”

The man laughed, warm and full and genuine, then took Avery’s bag from him and wrapped an arm around Avery’s ribs. Avery tilted his head against the man’s shoulder and let him lead him into the—castle? Palace? Avery wasn’t sure. But it was less of a fortress than Ensheren’s royal residences. A good place for his sister to call home.

Inside was cooler, and Avery felt better immediately. His guide shifted his arm so at least a quarter of Avery’s weight was resting on his shoulder, and Avery let his settle against it, too. It was the first time since he’d gotten on that damn boat that he felt stable and his stomach stopped churning. But maybe that was because his guide smelled soothing and warm, like ginger cookies, or…or cinnamon. Whatever it was, Avery’s stomach stopped rolling over.

He managed to lift his head enough to look around as his guide practically dragged him through the polished hallways. He didn’t absorb most of it—just the impression of dark wood panels, wide windows letting in bright sunlight, and sculptures and paintings at every intersection. They passed through a set of heavy double doors in carved wood, and then into a smaller door down the hallway from that, and his guide let him go to stand on his own again.

They were in private chambers. Empty ones. Two doors were set against the far wall, and another one to Avery’s left. Between them were three couches and two armchairs, and one large table.

“These are my rooms,” his guide said. “You can bathe here and then take a nap while we wait for your sister and Kavi to come up for air and remember anyone else exists.”

“Kavi?” Avery asked.

“My brother,” his guide said. “Your sister’s new husband.”

“Your—your brother?”

His guide smiled at him. “My brother.”

The floor felt closer than it should have. “King Solon,” Avery said. “I—I’m sorry, Your Majesty. No one ever told me what you looked like.”

“I’d gathered,” the king said. “And no one told me you were coming. We’ll just have to both forgive each other. The bath is over here. I’ll find something for you to wear and I’ll put it in the dressing room.”

He left Avery alone in an alcove off of a bathing room with a bench. Avery sat down abruptly and pressed his face into his hands. He’d spent at least fifteen minutes using the king of a foreign country—the one Lisette’s fate was in the hands of—as a crutch.

While smelling like a cheap fishmonger who didn’t know what hygiene was.

What a wonderful first impression Ensheren was making on their new allies.

~~~~~~~~

The bath was large enough for Avery to stretch out in and had taps that ran fresh hot water. He slid in with a sigh and opened the jars next to him, looking for shampoo and soap. The first one had the same strong ginger scent the king had when—

When Avery had practically shoved his nose into his neck.

His face went red, and it wasn’t from the steam of the bath water.

The bottle was thin oil, though, not proper soap or shampoo. Avery left it open to scent the air while he cleaned up, and it was thick and heady in the bathroom by the time he felt properly clean and presentable The king—or someone who worked for him—had left clean clothes in the sitting room on the bench. They weren’t from his luggage, but if he didn’t have a room, no one would have unpacked his things, either. He ran his fingers over the soft fabric, then pulled them on.

Soft pants, longer socks than Avery was used to, a shirt in a pale goldenrod color, and a dark blue tunic to go over it. He fiddled with the laces, unsure how tight Alham expected people to wear their clothing. Ensheren usually wore things closely fitted.

He tightened the waist in and tucked the extra lacing inside to hide it. Might as well remind the king he was from a foreign country. Maybe it would give him some grace for treating him like a walking stick.

His face flushed again at the memory, and he fiddled with his boots, waiting for the blush to fade before he stepped back into the sitting room.

The king was curled at a desk near one of the wide windows, feet tucked next to his legs. He glanced up from whatever he was writing when Avery joined him. “Feeling any better, Your Highness?”

Avery nodded. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Solon. My name is Solon.”

Avery almost laughed in surprise. His breath came out in a sudden huff anyway. “You just called me Your Highness!”

Solon grinned. “You didn’t give me permission not to. I did.”

“I’ll call you by your name if you call me Avery,” he said.

“I think that’s a fair deal, Avery.” Solon made a soft humming sound. “You should get some sleep. I’m afraid they’re still cleaning up your rooms and hauling your things in there. It’ll be a few hours, I think.”

“I—”

“Are you not tired yet? If you want to stay up for a bit, I could use your help.”

The bath had woken Avery up, although he knew he’d fall asleep in minutes if he lay down. But he didn’t have a room yet, so did Solon want him to take his bed?

Avery tore his thoughts away from that. “What did you need?”

Solon waved to the chairs nearby. “Pull one of those up.”

Avery grabbed the nearest chair and slid it to where Solon pointed, then tucked himself into it while Solon rummaged for a clean sheet of paper. He handed Avery the pen. “Your family. I’m realizing I know very little about what my brother married into.”

Avery fiddled with the pen. “Then why did you agree to it?”

“Honestly, once I saw how Kavi reacted to your sister’s letters, I was sold on the arrangement. He…well. He liked what he learned of her immediately. And the details of treaties like this aren’t my job.”

Avery frowned. “You’re the king.”

Solon tilted his head. “I am. But I—well. Alham’s parliament decides what powers the monarch has. They vote on it every five years. And while the current officials are happy enough to have me help lead and oversee laws and even introduce some of my own, details of things like this are not my forte. Far more talented people than I do that.”

“They—vote? On what you’re allowed to do?”

Solon nodded. “The laws here don’t allow them to get rid of a monarch, exactly. But they can refuse to give an unpopular monarch or one no one trusts power until they abdicate. My grandfather was blocked from doing anything for three decades until he let my father take over. And my father only won their trust back by working his way up through the legislature and learning how it worked before they let him do anything.”

Avery cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I only had the time on the ship to read up on your country, and nothing like that was mentioned. I didn’t realize.”

Solon nudged the paper closer to Avery. “A family tree, please. And what each of you does. I’d ask your sister, but I’m not willing to interrupt newlyweds on their first day and night together.”

Aver turned pink at the implication. “I can do that.”

He drew marks for both his parents first, then took up the entire width of the paper to list out his brothers. “My father is the reigning king. He spends his days meeting with his advisors and the elected governors from each of the counties at home to make decisions and decide how they’re going to go be done.”

Avery drew two branches off the same root from his parents. “These are the oldest twins. Jamie is the heir. He spends his days shadowing our father and trying to learn everything and how to run things. He has two kids with his wife, but they’re both too young to take on any responsibilities yet. Zeke is second in line. He handles all the petitioners from around the country who arrive and need to speak to someone, and figures out how to resolve things. And if he can’t, he goes to Jamie and Dad.”

Avery drew another line. “And then the next twins, Jack and Max. Jack filters things for the older ones and makes sure that they’re not overwhelmed with too many things. He decides what’s most important to get their attention first, and redirects everyone else to other ways of handling issues.”

Solon hummed. “I think Jack was the one who first sent the letters of interest to me proposing I marry your sister.”

“You?”

Solon waved his hand. “Kavi was always more interested in marriage and children than I ever was. I suggested him to your brother instead, and he accepted. Your sister will still be the mother to any heirs. Alham doesn’t need a queen or a prince consort.”

“The…the prince consort?”

“The husband to the monarch. If I had one.”

Avery’s mouth fell open. The king could have a husband, if he wanted? Something burned in his stomach. His family had never said anything about his interest in other men, but Avery was—he was useless. And Ensheren didn’t need yet another heir. It was for the best he wouldn’t have any other children.

“The…the way your country works is very different than I’d imagined,” Avery said, choking back something clogging his throat to stare at the paper.

“I’m realizing that. Is marriage between two people of the same sex not allowed in Ensheren?”

Avery lifted one hand and found it shaking, and he waggled it back and forth. “No, we….we can, mostly. But the king…my father, or my brother, could never—they—they need to have children. Have direct heirs. It’s allowed for most people, but there are people with power who just. Can’t.”

Solon stared at his shaking hand for a long moment, then said, “Tell me about Max.”

Avery forced himself to look back at the paper. “Max does whatever he wants. He’s the most charming of us. He likes to mingle with the people in town and the rest of the country without going through proper channels. It’s hard to figure out when he’s in the castle and when he’s out. And he never tells anyone what he’s up to before goes and does it. Honestly, we usually hear of his escapades from the papers first. But it means he has more information on how things are going in the country than any of the rest of us. It’s why everyone likes him so much.”

“You like him,” Solon said.

“He’s everyone’s favorite brother,” Avery said. “Even Lisette’s.”

“And yet you’re here with her and not Max.”

“I don’t think Max has ever left the country. I don’t think he wants to. Besides, he’s busy. Formally, he’s in charge of most of the internal affairs of the country before anything has to be escalated.” Avery drew the next line before Solon could ask any more questions. “This is Lennox. He grew up watching after the knights training grounds and begging him to teach them, and joined up as soon as our father finally gave him permission. He’s worked his way up the ranks to be the Ensheren’s top general now.”

Avery drew two more lines. “This one is me. And then Lisette is the youngest. She was raised expecting to be married as part of a treaty, although we didn’t know it would be with Alham until the last couple of years. She’s ready to play her ambassador role. Don’t worry. She’ll be good at it.”

Solon pushed Avery’s hand back to the line for himself. “And what do you do? You didn’t say.”

“…Not…not much of anything,” Avery said. “By the time I was old enough to realize I needed to find something, my brothers already had things handled.” He shrugged. “Right now, I’m here to help Lisette get her bearings. That’s all.”

Solon watched him silently for a moment. Avery’s face went pink again, and he set the pen down. “Ensheren doesn’t need more royalty getting involved in things, and being given a job I’m not qualified to do would only cause more problems.”

Solon frowned, and Avery hated it. He knew he was useless. He knew he wasn’t contributing anything to his country the way royalty was supposed to. He wasn’t stupid. He knew that six princes was at least two too many, and while everyone had forgiven him for not having anything to prepare for in the future as a child, and he’d managed to put it off a few more years at university, every day since he’d turned twenty-five, more and more whispers had churned, wondering what his purpose was.

“I see,” Solon said finally. “Thank you. This will be helpful. Now, you should get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when our siblings come up for air, or when your rooms are ready. Whichever comes first.”

Avery took a slow breath to calm the frustration that had been building in his chest. Sleep. In Solon’s bed. But at least it would be in another room. “Thank you.”

Solon tilted his head. “There’re pillows on the couch over there. Do you want a blanket?”

Avery jolted in place. “No! No, that’s fine. Thank you.”

He turned away before Solon could read anything on his face and realize Avery had been thinking about Solon’s bed. Avery crossed the room to the couch and lay down, facing resolutely away from Solon.

He closed his eyes, took several slow breaths, and tried not wonder what Solon’s bed looked like.

~~~~~~~~

Solon woke Avery after true dark had fallen with a hand to his shoulder. Avery usually started awake when someone shook him, but this felt more like shifting awake on the boat, gentle and dizzying.

He blinked up at Solon in the dim lamplight, shaking himself to remind himself where he was. “Wha’ izzit?” he asked, and immediately clamped his mouth shut. If he couldn’t speak properly, he shouldn’t be talking at all.

Solon laughed. “Your room is ready for you, and your sister and my brother will be joining me for dinner soon. I thought you might want to change before they get here. You’re coming?”

Right. Avery was in borrowed clothing. “I should…definitely wear something…more presentable.” Even if Solon had seen him smelling and looking like a beached fish, the crown prince didn’t have to. And he was the one Avery should be focusing on, not Solon.

And what would Lisette have to say if Avery showed up to dinner looking rumpled and dressed in clothes that weren’t his?

…He definitely needed to change.

“I’d like to get ready,” he managed.

“Of course.” Solon helped him to his feet with a warm hand, soft except for the small finger callouses Avery was used to on artists. “I’ll show you your rooms. You can make it back here on your own, do you think, or would you like me to wait for you?”

Avery shrugged, and trailed quietly after Solon through the halls. Solon hummed something quietly to himself, but didn’t interrupt Avery’s contemplation of the palace walls now that he was awake enough to take it in properly.

The windows were wide and bright, the courtyards huge and full of gardens and not soldiers, and the walls hung with sculptures and paintings.

It felt safe. It would be a good place for Lisette to live. An unworried home without any need to be on guard constantly. Ensheren hadn’t seen a war in the last four decades, but the castle they’d been born into and all the ones they’d traveled between were still built with the lingering need to barricade in mind.

Solon’s home seemed more like a public showcase. Like it was designed to welcome people, like it belonged to the people, the way Solon’s job did.

Solon waved Avery into a series of small rooms—a bedroom, a small sitting room with a desk as if Avery had any guests to greet in Alham, and an attached washroom. Not lavish, but—it would do.

“It’s only two hallways,” Avery said. “I think I can make it back.”

Solon smiled. “Then I’ll see you shortly.”

Solon left him alone with a wave, and Avery dug through his wardrobe, pleased to find everything already unpacked and hung up for him. Avery didn’t normally fuss about his clothes, but normally he wasn’t meeting his sister’s husband.

Or trying to change someone’s horrible first impression of him. Avery was the useless prince of Ensheren, but he was still a prince. He could impress if he tried.

Hopefully.

He threw the borrowed—gifted—clothes onto his bed and swapped it out for his best pants, woven in a tight herringbone than shifted between gray and crimson, buttoned a gold shirt over it with dark brown buttons that matched his eyes, and wrapped it in place with a burgundy vest. Not the royal colors of Ensheren anymore than they were Alham’s—but they were Avery’s best colors, and he wanted to look nice. He rummaged through the wardrobe until he found his dark red coat and slid it on before brushing his hair out of the sleep mussed disaster and washed his face.

And then it was time to face Solon again.

Avery knocked at Solon’s door before opening it, and all three people in the room turned to him with a bright, “Avery!”

Avery froze at the sound of his name in unison from so many voices, then held up his hand to wave slightly, and drop it.

“Um. Hello.”

Solon smiled warmly, and Avery tore his eyes away from studying his face, hoping for surprise or at least approval, to meet his sister’s gaze. She’d gotten a bath and her hair curled down her back in loose waves over her nicest, newest dress.

She wanted to look nice for her husband. Good. That meant she liked him.

“Lisette,” he said. “You’re—” He stopped himself, then restarted, “You look nice.”

“So do you,” she said, eying him skeptically. “You put in effort.”

She still had one arm looped through her husband’s. It was easy to see that Solon was his brother, now that Avery had seen them both. They had the same dark hair fighting a wave, the same bright blue eyes, the same tall, slender build. Neither Solon nor Kavi was built to be a fighter like Lennox was, but neither was Avery. “Should I not want to make a good impression on your husband? I thought it would be good to at least try.”

The crown prince laughed and reached a hand out to shake Avery’s. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Avery ducked his head into a bow before shaking his hand. “Your Highness.”

“Kavi. My name is Kavi. And yours is Avery.”

“Kavi,” Avery agreed. “I’m glad to see my sister seems so eager to impress you.”

“Avery!” Lisette said, turning pink the same way he did.

“What? It means that you still like him as much as you did from the letters.”

Kavi laughed, a deep, warm sound that dragged another smile out of Avery. He was kind. He was friendly. And he kept turning toward Lisette like a magnet.

All good signs.

“Let’s eat,” Solon said, pulling the warming covers off the serving trays.

Kavi pulled a chair out for Lisette, then took the seat next to her. Avery took the seat next to Solon more gingerly than necessary and folded his hands in his lap, uncertain what pre-dinner rituals Alham observed.

Apparently, none, because Kavi started scooping noodles onto his plate as soon as Avery slid his chair closer to the table, and Solon stirred a pot of potatoes in some red-yellow glaze that was tangy enough to make Avery’s mouth water from across the table.

He took several thick pieces of bread, still warm, and buttered them, and slowly filled the rest of the plate with food. But he waited for Solon to take his first bite before he started eating.

Solon nudged Avery’s arm before he could get more than two bites into the lovely, warm duck and offered him a ladle filled with the sauced potatoes. “You should try these. They’re my favorite.”

“If you don’t like them, tell me and I’ll smack Solon for you,” Kavi said. “I asked for our chef to come up with something close to Ensheren’s food for you. I thought it would be good to acclimate you slowly. She even got a recipe book. But Solon cannot go a day without those damn potatoes.” Solon jerked under the table like he’d been kicked, and Kavi grinned at his brother.

“They taste good,” Solon said, sounding petulant and everything he hadn’t been the entire day while Avery collapsed on him. Lisette giggled into her bread and Avery couldn’t help a grin crawling onto his face.

“That does explain why you have peppered duck,” Lisette told her husband. “You remembered?”

Kavi turned to her with a smile that softened like butter over the bread Avery was busy shoveling into his mouth. “I would have double checked before asking our chef if I hadn’t.”

Avery’s chest warmed. Kavi and Lisette had been exchanging letters constantly for nearly two years already. They knew each other, even if they’d only met in person for the first time that day. He didn’t need to worry. Lisette knew what she was getting into far better than Avery did. She would be fine.

“You’re getting along well.”

Lisette pinked. “We’ve had a good day.”

“And I look forward to the next ones,” Kavi said, reaching over a tray of dumplings to touch her hand.

She smiled at him. “So do I.”

Avery fell quiet as he finished eating, eyes on his plate instead of his sister. She would be fine. Alham would be a good home. Kavi would be a good husband. Every single one of their brothers had insisted he accompany her, and even their mother had pulled Avery aside to give him her best guilt trip over his hesitance.

Maybe that would be for the best for Lisette. She didn’t need anyone to intervene.

He let Lisette and Kavi’s gentle flirting and Kavi teasing his brother wash over him without feeling the need to add anything. They were all content with each other, and he was content to know that.

Except that Kavi and Lisette and Solon all kept glancing at him, waiting for him to say something, and continuing with awkward pauses when he didn’t add anything. And by the time Avery had cleared his plate, Lisette had, clearly, gotten fed up with it. “Avery,” she said, “Kavi wants to know who my family is, too. And you’re the only one he’s getting the chance to before the wedding, and that isn’t for months. Will you please act like yourself?”

Avery startled in his chair. “What?”

“I miss the brother who used to sneak out of the castle with me and help me climb apple trees and bought me all the books our parents thought I shouldn’t be reading and taught me how to waltz after curfew.”

Avery blinked. “But Max did all of that.”

“Max did all of that with you. You’re the one that did all of that with me.”

Avery laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Max did not teach me how to waltz, Lisette.”

“He didn’t teach me either! Avery, I spent so much time telling Kavi about you. I want him to actually meet you. Stop being so quiet.”

“I was quiet at home, too,” Avery said, trying to bite back another laugh. “I’m tired. Give me a day or two.”

She leaned across the table to stare him down. “If you’re not acting like yourself in the week, I’m going to chase you around the courtyard with a stick.”

Avery’s helpless laughter was drowned out that time by Kavi’s, and Avery’s eyes darted to him again. He grinned at Avery—not worried about what Lisette had said, then—and stood up. “I think that’s a good reminder to all of us to get some sleep. Perhaps when you’ve gotten a chance to settle in here, Lisette won’t have to threaten you anymore.” He turned to his wife. “Let me escort you back to your rooms. They’re attached to mine if you need anything.” He winked. “Although with any luck, I’ll have wooed you into sharing my bed by our wedding.”

Solon made a disgusted sound from the back of his throat. “Kavi! Don’t be so crass. Her brother doesn’t want to hear that.”

Kavi stuck his tongue out at his brother. “That wasn’t crass, Solon. I was expressing interest. I kow explaining that to you is like trying to tell a fish about the desert, but it’s not inappropriate.”

Solon flushed red. “I’m not that bad.”

“And neither am I. Now I’m going to take my wife and settle in for the night. Good night, Solon.” He inclined his head to Avery. “It was good to meet you, Avery. I hope we’ll get some more time together once you’ve settled in here better.”

He escorted Lisette out the door, and Avery turned to Solon. “Thank you for your hospitality today. It…it’s been more than I could have expected.”

Solon raised an eyebrow as Avery straightened. “And why’s that?”

“Well I—I’m an uninvited guest. And yet—”

Solon gave him a smile, warm and bright, and it made Avery’s stomach flip over itself in a dangerous way. “I’ve been happy to help, don’t worry.”

“Right,” Avery said, which he was distantly aware wasn’t the right thing to say. He backed up towards the open door. “I’ll let you attend to your bed, then.”

He darted out the door before his face could turn red again and before he had to think about Solon and beds again.

~~~~~~~~

“Avery! I was wondering where you’d gone. You didn’t answer when I tried your door earlier.”

Avery straightened from where he was bent inspecting the palace garden’s flowers. “Solon! I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be looking for me.”

Solon grinned. “If nothing else, I am expected to play host to royal visitors. And you’re the only one here that isn’t married to my brother.” He waved an arm back the way he came. “So let me do my job and show you around Alham’s capital.”

It wasn’t as if Avery had any reason to say no. And with the way Solon was smiling, he didn’t want to, either. So he smiled back, nodded, and let Solon lead him out of the palace and into the streets.

With no guards, at least none visible. Solon was dressed in the same unassuming clothing that had Avery mistake him for an attendant instead of a king, and no crown was in sight, but Avery still felt strange as they left the palace grounds, like someone had forgotten to give him a jacket in the winter. Like a weight was missing.

“Today we can go on foot,” Solon said. “We can’t reach everywhere in the city that way, but there’s plenty to see in walking distance.”

Avery nodded and stepped closer to him when a carriage passed by on the street, driving straight past the palace gates. Solon took the opportunity to  lean in and whisper conspiratorially, “To be honest, most of my favorite places aren’t close, but maybe Kavi had a point in acclimating you slowly.”

Avery laughed and Solon grinned back like he was surprised to hear it.

“Well, what fun are you taking us to today?”

“I was going to start with the high street shops. Not that I’m trying to drum up the local economy, although parliament would probably like me to. But it’s also where the most…polite…street performers gather and it’s a good place to see everyone from all parts of the city head to shop. Unless you’d rather do something else? I could do my best to keep you off kilter so your sister chases you around with a stick.”

Avery shoved at Solon’s shoulder without thinking about it, the same way he would have any of his brothers. Solon didn’t budge, and Avery drew his hand back like he’d burned it. “I—I’m sorry.”

Solon caught his wrist before Avery could withdraw completely. “Avery, the treaties between our countries are already signed and I’m not going to take Kavi’s wife away from him.” He’d pitched his voice low and soft like he was talking to a skittish cat, and Avery felt tension melt from his face and shoulders embarrassingly quickly. “You don’t have to worry about offending me. It won’t cause any harm if you do, and I won’t hold it against you, either. We’re both getting to know each other. Are you going to do anything against Alham because I didn’t know who you were when we met?”

Avery blinked. “But you didn’t do anything.”

“I thought you were one of Lisette’s attendants trying to get out of work.”

“So? I thought you were your brother’s.”

Solon laughed. “See? We’re even. We’ve both done things that could have offended each other, and neither of us are mad. Right?”

Avery glanced sideways at him for a moment. “All right. You have a point.”

“So you’ll stop trying to be so careful?”

Avery lifted one shoulder. “I think you’ll be disappointed in how I act when I’m relaxed. Lisette made me sound much more adventurous than I am.”

“That’s okay. We’re starting small today. We can work our way out into the city as far as you’re willing to push yourself. Or until you start kicking me.”

Avery ducked his head and then smiled. “Is that always how Kavi gets you to leave him alone?”

 Solon pressed a finger to Avery’s mouth. “Don’t go telling everyone his secrets.”

Avery’s breath caught until Solon dropped his hand away from Avery’s mouth again, and he pressed his lips together to imprint the feeling on them.

And so he didn’t say anything stupid.

~~~~~~~~

It was apparent by the time the week was out—and Lisette’s deadline had come—that Solon had every intention of taking Avery somewhere in the capital city every single day. At least until Lisette’s wedding, which was only five weeks away.

It was more attention than Avery was used to. More attention than he knew what to do with. But two weeks into his stay, he managed to hide away with Lisette for one of her dress fittings.

“Well, you’re having fun with Solon, aren’t you?” Lisette asked. “Right?”

Avery narrowed his eyes at her, trying to figure out if she was trying to imply anything. He and Solon had done nothing remotely scandalous. The fact that Solon’s smile and presence was enough to flip Avery’s heart over in his chest wasn’t the point. But his sister could tell. She always knew when he she saw him with someone he’d gotten a crush on.

“I’m enjoying myself here,” Avery agreed before immediately changing the subject away from Solon. “More importantly, are you? Because one of us is staying here after the wedding, and one of us is going home with our parents and brothers. Has Kavi been showing you around?”

Lisette huffed. “We’ve been busy.”

“Busy with each other, or busy with the wedding? Because—”

“Oh, just because I’m not in charge of all of the details doesn’t mean I’m not involved in my own wedding, Avery! It’s in a month and I only just got here and I don’t know anyone yet and—”

Avery clamped his mouth shut as his sister ran out of steam. She was stressed—of course she was; she was trying to build an entirely new life somewhere she’d never been, and Avery had decided she was fine and spent his days entirely occupied with Solon and his ginger cologne that—no, Avery did not need to find someone to bring back to Ensheren. “What can I do to help?”

“Avery—”

“That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? Our brothers were pretty clear about that. I want to help you if I can, Lisette. Please.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but she smiled while she did it. “So you’re only helping me because they asked you to? Not because you think I need help?”

“Your Highness,” the dressmaker said, kneeling at her waist, “I appreciate your spirit, but if you could have this conversation more sedately at least while I’m trying to pin things in place.”

Lisette went red up to her hairline. “I’m sorry. I haven’t had this done in a while.”

“You had this done two months ago to get that dress you wanted when you saw Kavi for the first time,” Avery said.

His sister scowled at him. “Will you hush?”

“You wanted me to be like this. Threatened me with a stick,” Avery said. “Now tell me what I can do to help you adjust here.”

Lisette’s shoulders slumped, but she caught herself before she did anything more to disturb the dressmaker’s work. “I don’t know, Avery. I just want some time alone with my husband again to get to know him and this country better.

A clap came from the door. “Done.”

Both Lisette and Avery jumped and turned to look at Solon leaning against the door frame. The dressmaker sighed and stood up to take a break and fetch something from his work kit.

“Solon!” Lisette said. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for your brother. But if what you need is a day alone with my brother and this city, I can make that happen easily. The wedding details can manage a day without you. In fact, maybe even getting out of the city would be good. Our mother lives out of the city on a large estate near the woods. Would you like to visit her? It’s quiet and private there, but maybe meeting your husband’s mother wouldn’t help.”

Lisette blinked. “Your mother is still alive?”

Solon frowned. “I’m only thirty-one. My father’s death five years ago was very shocking, but it didn’t put my mother in any poorer health. She’s still quite young. She just wasn’t chosen as the next monarch.”

Thirty-one. When Solon had been Avery’s age, he’d taken up a crown. And Avery wasn’t even able to help his sister relax.

Lisette’s mouth opened into a soft circle. “Kavi gave me a brief explanation of how the lineage works here, but I didn’t realize your mother was still alive. Will she be coming to the wedding?”

“Of course. In the meantime, however, what would you like to do to squirrel away some alone time with my brother? I’m happy to do whatever I need to make it happen.”

Lisette hesitated, and the dressmaker attacked her waist with pins while she stood thoughtful and still.

“I think,” she said, “I would like to meet your mother before the wedding. Would she…what’s she’s like?”

“Cheerful, no nonsense, and very pleased Kavi found someone he likes so much,” Solon said. “I can’t promise she won’t have any questions for you, but I think she’ll be quite welcoming—and even if she gives you a proper interrogation, it’ll certainly be a distraction. I can pack you and Kavi off before nightfall and you’ll be there before morning.”

Avery nodded enthusiastically. “Just give me a list of things to handle while you’re gone, Lisette. I can at least do that much for you.”

“I…are you sure?” Lisette asked, pausing with a frown.

“Do you think I won’t do it properly?” Avery asked. “It’s for you, Lisette. I’ll do my best.”

Lisette laughed. “It has nothing to do with that at all, Avery. It just seems strange to let you handle things here while I go somewhere without you.”

Avery stood up, and sidestepped the dressmaker to take his sister’s hands. “That’s what this entire trip is meant to be. Go spend time with your husband. I’ve got this.”

~~~~~~~~

Avery did not have things. His sister left for a week see Kavi and Solon’s mother, leaving Avery with a list as long as his forearm to see to. And he only knew how to do one of them—checking the translation of the wedding program for the foreign guests. But he’d asked after that first. It wasn’t ready to be looked at yet.

And so he gave up his borrowed desk in his borrowed rooms and took the list to Solon’s room, hoping to plead help from him yet again.

Solon answered the door with a surprised smile and welcomed him inside immediately.

“Do you need something?”

“I’m sorry. I know we agreed that you wouldn’t need to host me this week while I took care of Lisette’s things, but I was hoping you could at least direct me to who I need to talk to. Lisette has been handling all of this alone.”

While Solon took him sight-seeing and showed off his favorite statues and museums and strange buildings, and they laughed at things for hours. But Solon knew that.

Solon waved that off. “It was starting to get boring without you around anyway.” He gestured to his desk. “I’ve actually had to get work done.”

Avery couldn’t help a smile at that. “As far as I can tell, Lisette is working on blending marriage traditions, but I don’t know if you have anyone besides the two of us who’s familiar with the traditions in Ensheren, or who I should speak to about implementing them.”

Solon snagged the list Lisette made out of Avery’s hands and spent a few quiet moments reading it. Avery let him and glanced around the room. It looked about the same as every other time he’d been in Solon’s rooms, except that his desk looked like it was being rapidly devoured by papers. And Solon looked the same, except that his hair had definitely had hands running through it, because the waves had gotten untamed and curled up at every angle.

Avery did his best not to stare as Solon read and then handed the list back to him. “None of this should be complicated. Either your sister was making things easy for you, or she managed to tie herself up in knots about it from stress. I know the wedding is only in three weeks, but,” Solon stretched his arms wide, “we’re royalty. This wedding is a national holiday, and a sign of goodwill when your family arrives. Everyone is going to do everything possible to make it happen properly on short notice. Honestly, I could give that list to my secretary and it would be done before your sister comes back tomorrow.”

“Lisette asked me to do it,” Avery said. “I’d like to see to it myself. I don’t doubt your secretary, but…”

Solon nodded once. “Of course. Jan is probably extremely busy as is. He’s had enough to take care of with both of you here. So.” He reached back to the list and tapped the first item. “We can take care of several of these things by talking to the priest. I haven’t had a chance to show you the temple yet, but we have a nondenominational one in the palace. The priest who will be officiating the service works there, and she can refer us to someone who can help with how you do your vows to ensure we do both.”

“We?” Avery asked.

“Avery, I’m very tired of paperwork today. Let me with you, please. Anything to get moving.”

Avery laughed. “Well, I can’t say no to the king.”

“You’ve said no to me three times in the last week,” Solon said, slinging an arm around Avery’s shoulders to steer him back out the door.

~~~~~~~~

Working out wedding details with Solon was much more nerve wracking that it had any right to be. It wasn’t his wedding. But seeing Solon smile at him in the largest chapel Avery had ever seen near the altar while Avery repeated the same steps his sister would make to arrive before the priest and demonstrate taking Solon’s hands as she would Kavi’s, and then teaching the priest how to tie their hands together with his sister’s sash was—

Well. Avery’s heart certainly got more of a workout than he would have if he’d gone sprinting for the same amount of time.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to dance with Solon to set up room for the family dances Ensheren enjoyed to celebrate the unions. He didn’t have to touch Solon while going over the most important menu items with their cook. And he didn’t even have to make eye contact while sorting out who would be kneeling, who would be standing, and when.

They broke from the palace again to hurry over to see the priest from Ensheren. Alham’s capital had a small immigrant population and traveling community—it would get larger now that Lisette was married to Kavi—enough, at least to have a small district devoted to them and their own cultural buildings.

“I can’t believe this place existed in your city and didn’t take me here first,” Avery said as they settled into a carriage to head across the city. “What was that about trying to give me time to adjust slowly?”

“It’s not adjusting if you just insulate yourselves with your people, is it?” Solon asked. “Besides, it takes forever to get there. Do you think they’ll recognize you?”

“Maybe. If they’ve been home recently.”

“Mmm. So you’ve been at more of your official events than you like to pretend.”

“Well, I attend them,” Avery said. “I don’t do much more than that.”

“Mhm. I’m sure.”

Avery kicked at Solon’s shin lightly and then turned red at the familiarity. Kavi did that. But Kavi was Solon’s brother. Avery just wanted the excuse to touch him.

“Hey!” Solon said, breaking into laughter. “What was that for?”

“Don’t sound so skeptical. You’ll see when my family gets here. They’ll take over all the final details without me having to do anything.”

“And yet Lisette wants you next to her at the altar, not any of them.”

“Well, she only gets one,” Avery said, avoiding Solon’s eyes. “And I don’t have another role to perform.”

“I don’t think Max is her favorite brother,” Solon said. “That’s all.”

“She’s not even the one who asked me to come. The rest of our family sent me with her. They were very pushy about it.”

Solon sat up straighter in his seat. “Oh. I didn’t realize that.”

Avery shrugged. He didn’t like thinking about it. Lisette hadn’t picked him, and the rest of his family wanted him out of their way for weeks. It made sense, but it still stung. Avery had always done his best, if not to help, at least not cause problems for anyone.

He thought he was still succeeding. Solon liked him, at least. If he and Kavi hadn’t both made it so clear that Solon never thought about romance, he would have even called it flirting. But a friendship with a king was no small thing.

Except when his sister was married to the crown prince of the same country. Then, a friendship didn’t matter. And neither did Avery’s crush on him.

~~~~~~~~

The night before Avery and Lisette’s parents and brothers arrived for the wedding, Alham held a celebration. It would last into the next days, to greet their new allies. It would last at least a week, even with the wedding festivities shortly after.

But the night before they arrived, they heralded the start of the holidays with fireworks.

Solon took Avery out of the palace to watch. He settled them on a patch of grass in a park he’d taken Avery to the first week he’d been there, high on the far edge of the city, with a view of the entire sprawl of buildings beneath them. Plenty of people had joined them to watch the show in the sky over the harbor, setting out blankets and picnic baskets.

“What about Kavi and Lisette?” Avery asked as he settled into one of the same blankets he’d borrowed his first day in Alham to sleep on Solon’s couch. He was wearing the same gold shirt he been given then under his favorite red coat, too.

“Kavi is almost certainly going to take Lisette to the top towers in the palace to watch,” Solon said, unpacking the bag of snacks he’d brought with them. “It’s more private and closer to the fireworks. He likes it better. I think it’s more comfortable to watch fireworks up here.”

Avery hummed. He had to agree. Watching in the palace seemed fancy. Exclusive. But he was with everyone else in Alham who wanted to be there, with Solon at his side, and he could imagine Max wandering around making friends with everyone. Avery couldn’t manage that sociableness, but he liked the idea of it.

It felt like where Avery belonged.

Lisette would like the privacy, though. She’d never gotten much, as the only princess of Ensheren. Avery could blend in better among their brothers.

“Is Kavi nervous?” he asked. “Lisette is torn between nervous and excited. But like you said, everything’s already official. This is just the party to celebrate it.”

“You know, I actually don’t think he is,” Solon said, settling onto the blanket next to Avery and folding his legs so he could rest his arms on his knees. “But he’s never been the type for nerves.”

“Lucky him.”

Solon laughed much louder than Avery’s muttered aside deserved. “I know. I’ve always been jealous. He would have been better at being king than I was, but that wasn’t how the votes went.”

“They get to design your job to your strengths, don’t they?” Avery said. “Yours were what they wanted, not Kavi’s.”

Solon raised an eyebrow and gave Avery the same once over he had when they first met. Avery felt his cheeks go as pink as they did the first day, too, but the sky was almost dark enough that he could believe Solon didn’t see it this time. “And what are my strengths, Avery? Why would they pick me over Kavi?”

Avery went redder, and this time he knew Solon saw it because his grin widened. “You…you’re thoughtful. You know everything about this city, at least, and you can tell me anything about your country any time I have a question about anything. You know how to solve problems, more neatly than I ever would. You know exactly who to ask for help and how. Who wouldn’t want you to be in charge?”

Solon’s mouth fell open and for a brief moment, he was visibly speechless. Then he looked away, swallowed, and recovered enough to say, “Thank you. That’s quite the compliment.”

Before Avery had to think of something else to say to that, the first explosion overhead broke. He turned in unison with Solon and every other person in the park with them toward the sparks of light breaking up the dark sky over the harbor.

Avery had always liked fireworks. He’d though of them as pretty things as a kid, like the paintings on his wall, but when he’d asked how to make them, the chemistry of it had overwhelmed him until he’d given up understanding.

They were magic. Made by talented, clever people with a purpose. And the purpose was to make people happy.

Solon edged closer as the show went on and the air cooled. Avery tightened his jacket around him and leaned closer to Solon’s warm skin.

And he stayed there after the last firework went off and those around them started to pack up and leave, his eyes on the sky. Until Solon shifted close enough to jostle Avery’s shoulder and Avery turned with an apology in his throat for waiting too long after the fireworks were done to help pack things up and leave.

But Solon wasn’t trying to pack up their blankets. He was staring at Avery, his eyes unreadable in the dark, his mouth soft and open.

Avery’s eyes drifted to the shadows playing on Solon’s face from the few lamps in their park that had slowly started being relit now that the fireworks were over. Drifted down to his mouth and stared at it, listing forward the way he had the first day they met and he was unstable and ill and Solon was the only thing keeping him upright.

“Avery,” Solon said, his voice soft, and Avery jolted upright, shaking himself. He’d been about to kiss Solon. Solon, who wasn’t interested in any of that. Solon, who was absolutely not an option for any of a hundred other reasons—starting with the fact that their siblings were married and there was no point. If Solon was going to get married, it would have to be to someone useful.

Solon startled himself as Avery set into action and stood, and he slowly started packing their things up as if he’d just woken from a dream.

Or a nightmare.

Avery avoided Solon the next morning. And the next afternoon. And it was easy to do it at first, with the chaos of preparing for far more royal guests than Lisette or Avery themselves represented. Avery managed to keep well out of his way all the way up until it was time to have dinner with his parents and brothers, and Lisette, Kavi, and Solon, and Solon’s mother.

Solon caught him on the way to the proper dining hall—Solon’s room wouldn’t fit so many people for dinner—and stopped him with a hand to his arm. “Avery! I expected to see you around today. Where have you been?”

“I’ve been around,” Avery said, looking away immediately. “It’s easy not to notice when there’s so many of us.”

“Except that I was looking for you, specifically, not a prince from Ensheren,” Solon said. “And you’ve not been around at all. Are you avoiding your family?”

“What? No, nothing like that.”

“Then what happened?”

“I just think too much has been happening,” Avery said. “There’ve been so many people to help adjust.”

There was a pained sound to their side, and Avery and Solon both turned to see Kavi with Lisette on his arm further down the hallway. Kavi dropped Lisette’s arm and stepped forward, grabbing Avery’s hand with his arm.

“Avery,” he said, “my brother is bad at this. He has no practice, because he’s never wanted to do this before. But he is trying to find out if you want to stay here in Alham. He’s spent the last six weeks trying to convince you to stay, hoping you’d fall in love with the country, so he could keep you around.”

Solon’s face turned redder with every word from his brother. But he didn’t argue or protest any of it.

“Will you—please, Avery, just put my brother out of his misery and tell him if you’re going to stay or not. Before dinner, please. I can’t imagine having to sit through an entire meal with the two of you so awkward around each other.”

Lisette tugged on her husband’s arm. “We should leave them be,” she said. “Avery, don’t come to dinner until you’re done talking to Solon about this. Please.”

“Lise—”

But she didn’t stop, and she and Kavi had turned the corner before Avery could even finish her name, leaving him alone again with Solon.

Avery turned back to Solon, unsure what to say after that. “Um.”

“I—uh.”

They stared at each other in awkward silence for a long moment before Solon finally broke it again. “So? Are you willing to stay? Here? Even after your parents leave?”

“You…you really want me to?”

Solon grabbed for Avery’s hands and took them in both of his. “Avery. I’ve liked you from the moment I met you. I didn’t even know I could like someone the way I like you. But you’re not useless, and you’re not unwanted. You care. You want to know everything about everyone, and you want to do your best to help. Maybe—maybe starting over somewhere without the expectations and your siblings taking care of so much will make it easier for you to find something to do here. You’ve always wanted to date men, haven’t you? Spend your life with one? And your parents and siblings all pushed you to come here, where that’s….where you can do that. They like you, Avery—you’ve never once said you don’t get along with them. And they wanted you to come here, where they wouldn’t be hanging over your head and—and maybe you could marry someone if you wanted.”

Avery blinked, then looked down at their hands. “You really think that’s what they were trying to do?”

“So much so that I asked Lisette about it, and she turned pink the same way you do when you get caught. She asked if I was trying to keep you.”

Avery ducked his head against a growing smile. He could see Lisette asking that. Could see her hoping for that. “If you’ve wanted me to fall in love with Alham, you’ve succeeded. And if….if you wanted me to fall in love with you, then…well…it’s still early. But I think you’re succeeding there, too.”

Solon’s face brightened like the sun and his smile could have cracked his face in half. “So you’ll stay?”

“I’ll have to talk to my parents about it,” Avery said, worming his hands out of Solon’s to rest them on his shoulders. “But if you’re right, I think they’ll be happy for me to stay here. Especially if we have a treaty and they’ll have someone to take care of Lisette.”

“And Lisette can take care of you,” Solon said, tucking his hands around Avery’s waist.

“Mmm,” Avery agreed, a grin growing across his face. “Now if you want me to stay, Your Majesty, perhaps you should start proving it with a kiss?”

Solon’s hands tightened as he jolted in surprise, and he met Avery halfway.

[atimelesslullaby]

Now go home, @dullweapons! Regain your lost time! Home... Where you are supposed to be... The way you are supposed to be...

"Would you like a flower?"

He was quite tall in comparison to the princess. She had just been, very carefully, picking some red and blue flowers. The red were those that were rare, blue could be found in many patches. To this taller man, it was a red flower, the roots still in tact. If there was a desire to replant the bloom, it was more than possible.

It felt as though she was always busy. Overseeing construction, approving traditional designs, and this didn't even begin to count the number of letters she had to write, and paperwork she had to sign. Zelda had a wrist of steel. Her basket was full of, mostly, blue flowers. Seems she didn't have much luck today finding the red ones.

Taking in a deep breath, Zelda releases it, gaze turned towards the sky as a breeze tugged at her hair, and dress.

"...Do you ever feel a strange sadness?"

Maybe that wasn't a good question to ask, given her status. But one thing was for certain: She'd never put herself above anyone else, royalty or otherwise. Her once best friend had been a simple boy from the forest.

If only she could see him one last time...

"The power to control time feels more like a curse, than a blessing."

[quietvigil]

[Starter for @tearenola - Led Astray]

It was far from the first time Ginko has escorted someone else through the Uro passageways for one reason or another. Those deep, winding tunnels through the layers of the world are treacherous, but not without their uses— the Uro mushi's method of hiding from unenclosed spaces can bridge the span of japan in its entirety, if only the right path were to be found through the twisted spaces.

…However, it was the first time he's had someone run off from him. Perhaps he should have kept a closer watch on his tag-along; he'd noticed the wound-up energy in the soles of the other man's step, bouncing and dragging in equal measure down the precarious angles of the pathway, but had erroneously mistaken it to be a simple desire to get out of the tunnels… not to trap himself further in.

"Hey— come back!" Ginko's shout echoed in time with the beat of his temporary companion's footsteps as they left the staked path with a yell, disappearing around the corner in a flash of blue and black. Callused fingers curled around the thin metal chain that marked the route to their destination, a sudden trepidation having gripped him.

Damnit, damnit, damnit.

Ginko, for the first time in a very, very long time, had strayed from the path. He chased the sound of footsteps through winding turns and deep drops, chambers playing with the sound and distorting it with every breath and echoing pulse. It was nearly impossible to tell where the other man had gone after a few sharp twists, and the further he went from the charted area, the worse both of their odds became—

His eye had caught a stream of light shining down from the corner of the passageway in the middle of his marching thoughts, glinting in the corner of his mind. There shouldn't be other passways open from the inside this close to the main path, but— if they had gone anywhere...

The tiny crack of an exit he had come across almost looked too small for him to squeeze through, at the time. His shoulders still ache from the contorting and twisting he had to do to work his way out of the passageway, the edges of his medicine box scuffed by black packed dirt and stone that still stubbornly lingers beneath his fingertips.

The world Ginko resurfaces to in pursuit of the other man is… utterly alien by all definitions. Tall buildings that gleam in the hot, humid sun, a thin copse of trees that struggle to blot out the roar of— of something beyond, passing people and blurred shapes in cuts of cloth that ring remarkably similar to his own. The area he's in is enclosed by astoundingly expensive-looking wrought black iron and fields of stone, all carefully maintained from the encroaching vegetation. And more importantly…

His charge is nowhere in sight. There are some people milling about the area, and a scant handful of baffled stares weigh heavy on the back of his head. Surely someone here would have noticed? Ginko pauses for a moment to try and wrest some of the black dirt from his person, deep scuffs dug into the weave. It looks like he's just dragged himself out of one of the graves— which, uncomfortably, may not be too unapt a description, judging by the shape of the tree roots he'd wormed his way out of. They seem to have grown up and over top of something not too dissimilar in relative size to the odd engraved stones that litter the small enclosed field, which upon closer inspection certainly appear to indicate some sort of final resting place, albeit not in a... style he's seen before.

"…Hey, you," It only takes him a moment to narrow down the closest bystander— an individual with straw-like hair and something metal catching light from the bridge of their face. (They're hardly like anyone he's ever seen before, foreign in every sense of the notion— where is he?)

"—Have you seen a man about this tall," Ginko gestures about level with his eye, a new unlit cigarette dangling from his offhand as he catches his breath— "long brown hair, blue kataginu..?"

Please let them have gone down the same path.

[comically-callous]

Can I request headcanons for Kurt, Remy, Logan, and Wade finding out that his gn s/o has never dated anyone else before him please?

X-Men requests YAYYYYY YAY YAY YAY YAY!!!!!!!! 🤸🏃🤸🏃🤸🏃🤸🏃🤸🏃

Wade, Logan, Remy, and Kurt with a s/o who hasn’t dated anyone other than them!! <3

Warnings!: cursing ig, reader is referred to as pretty (I consider that gender neutral, but wanted to put it here just in case), and that’s it!

A/n: Want them all ngl 😞 If it wasn’t already clear, I’m delighted to have my first X-Men request. And I also really like this prompt (definitely not because I can relate to it. Haha, shut up). Also, requests: OPEN 💜

Wade:

He straight up thinks you’re lying when you first tell him. He even laughs because he’s convinced you’re just messing with him.

But, then he realizes you’re not laughing and he’s like “Oh, shit. Really?”

He’ll apologize for laughing and probably say some shit like “Sorry, I just didn’t realize a smoke show like you was capable of being single”

And he means it. He was fully under the impression that you’d been on more than a few dates because you’re HOT

Definitely teases you about it. “Is that why your hands were so sweaty on our first date?”

Don’t be afraid to (playfully) smack him.

Despite all of the teasing, he makes sure to let you know that it doesn’t bother him. In fact, he thinks it’s cute

He’ll say that you’re “new to dating” even if the two of you have been dating for years

Starts calling you a rookie. And he ends up saying it so much that it just becomes one of the many pet names he has for you

And, yeah. When you’re not around he’s probably giggling and kicking his feet over how he’s your first boyfriend 🤭

Logan:

When you first tell him, he just looks at you for a second, not saying anything before going “You’re serious?”

“And you decided I’d be a good first pick?” He says it like he’s teasing, but, in reality, it does confuse him a bit.

Like, wouldn’t you want someone sweet and kind for your first relationship? Not a grumpy, old guy with knife hands???

Nonetheless, he’s grateful (and even honored) to be given the title of your first boyfriend

He doesn’t make a huge deal out of it. He’ll occasionally bring it up, maybe ask a question or two about it. But, it doesn’t really change anything about your relationship.

Or, at least, that’s what you think for a while.

One night, he returns from a long mission and he crawls into bed next to you, and you think he’s just gonna immediately go to sleep like he does every time he comes back from a mission. But, then he mumbles something.

“I wish I’d had someone like you as my first.”

And before you can even process it, he’s asleep.

You ask him about it in the morning and he says he doesn’t remember saying it. You can decide whether or not you think he’s lying.

Remy:

You tell him that you want to tell him something, and he can tell you’re nervous about it.

“What’s got you so nervous, chère? You know Gambit don’t judge nobody. ‘Specially not you.”

And you confess to him that you’ve never dated anyone and he’s like. “Oh. That’s it?”

He doesn’t mean to sound apathetic. He was just expecting something bad.

He asks you to clarify what you mean by “not dating anyone before him” because he thinks he somehow misunderstood you

“You telling me no one ever tried to get with a pretty thing like you?” And then he smirks. “Or were you just ignorin’ all of ‘em till Gambit came round?”

He also teases you about it from time to time. Makes little comments about how he’s your first.

But, it’s just because he loves it.

He often thinks about how he’s the only guy who’s gotten to take you on dates and do all this romantic stuff with you

“Don’t no one else know what they missing out on….”

Kurt:

He doesn’t even try to hide his surprise. He can’t.

“I’m really your first? But, how? You are so beautiful!” He’s just upfront with why he thinks it’s absurd.

He needs to hear it a few more times before he finally accepts it. And that’s when he starts getting giddy.

“I am your first lover?” He grins. “I like that, I think.”

And now everyone has to know. Sorry.

He will gladly go around and tell people that he’s your “first love” (as he likes to say). Is it usually embarrassing for you? Yes. But, it’s Kurt. So, it’s okay.

So, yeah. You definitely don’t have to worry about whether or not he minds it.

Of course, now he has to ask a bunch of questions about it too.

“So, was the first date you’ve ever had with me?” If you say yes, he smiles before asking. “Was it good?” Like he doesn’t already know the answer.

He’s just over the moon that he was the first person that you really fell in love with. And he wants you and everyone around you to know how happy he is with you.

[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. iv

to @mrsmando - without whom this insane story would never have happened in the first place. i love you i love you i love you thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me - it has been a blast. i hope you like where we turn out! love you guys always n forever x

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you're a mom. it's time to get your shit together.

warnings: bon jovi mention straight out the gate, labor/delivery [i have never given birth. those of you who have are nothing short of remarkable. please forgive if some of this is a little inaccurate or vague], use of pain medication during birth, description of pain and post-birth recovery, super emotional reader, unprotected piv, oral, alcohol consumption. DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 12k

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

It’s September twenty-third.

Well, by now, it’s probably the twenty-fourth. You’ve been a little distracted, rolling between the sheets with your next-door neighbor for the last couple hours.

The wedding’s still going strong downstairs. The same Bon Jovi song has played three times over. Tommy has called Joel to ask where he is so much that Joel’s phone is now switched off and shoved to the bottom of his bag.

You’re slouched on the toilet in a sliver of moonlight. A fistful of tissue, panties loose around your ankles. Rolling your forehead side to side along the cool tile, heartbeat hammering between your temples.

Joel Miller – Joel fucking Miller – is in your bed. Naked, sweating, cock probably still half-hard.

This morning, the very idea of the man was an eyeroll. Stood in your mirror, promising yourself that this time tomorrow, it’ll all be over with.

This time in a month, it’ll be a foggy memory.

This time in a year, it –

His voice is muffled through the bathroom door. “Did you fall in, or somethin’?”

You snort. The milky moon blurs across your vision when you pull yourself upright. You swipe between your legs and stand, flushing the toilet.

“I needed a fucking breather,” you tease, tiptoeing back across the room.

Joel’s stretched out; a worked arm draped along the headboard. Sun-kissed to the middle of his bicep, paler across his shoulder. One leg bare on the mattress, the other under the sheets. They only just cover his modesty – dark hair trailing beneath light silk just in time.

He’s so big. It’s like you never really noticed until now. He takes up half the bed, laying like this. And sure, you’re halfway to fucked, but – has he always been so handsome?

You flop down beside him with a sigh, curling up in the burrow of sheets at his side. Your eyes trail up his body – the sheen of sweat up his side, the dark, damp hair under his arm. All the parts of him you’ve never seen before, will never see again.

You gulp. Quit fucking staring.

He doesn’t notice, anyway. He’s rubbing circles into his temples, grumbling. “How many goddamn times are they gonna play It’s My Life?”

“…for Tommy and Gina…” you nudge him, “…who never backed down…”

Joel chuckles, pulling his hand down his beard. “Twenty bucks says he’s changing that to Maria.”

“Oh, for sure. I ain’t going back down to listen to it, though.”

He hums in agreement, reaching over for his beer. His Adam’s apple bobs as he drinks.

“You owe me, by the way. This is my room, remember? My fucking minibar.”

He pauses, the bottle against his bottom lip. His eyes linger south of your chin before he answers, “I’m paying for the damn room.”

“Then I want a drink from yours. Make it even.”

He clicks his teeth and drinks again. “It’s one beer. Call it an early birthday gift.”

You frown. “When the hell’s your birthday?”

“Tuesday.”

“Bullshit.”

“Serious. The twenty-sixth.”

You push yourself up onto your elbows; chest bare and on display. And it’s a strange feeling, how little you care. Twelve hours ago, you didn’t know how close to sit next to him at the ceremony. How many times you could accidentally bump knees or brush elbows and it not be weird.

But in the last two hours, he’s made you come more times than you can count. More times than anyone you’ve ever been with before – that’s for sure. And you’ve repaid the favor: the proof is still dribbling out of you. Still dripping between your legs, all pearlescent and warm. You’re soaked, swollen, still sore from the size of him.

It’s a fucking strange feeling, that you don’t mind at all.

“How old are you turning?” you ask.

Joel swallows. He settles the beer on his sternum, thumbing the corner of the label. Sucks in a deep breath and says, “Forty-eight.”

“Jesus,” you mutter, eyes wide.

He turns slowly, glaring at you. “Hilarious,” he drawls, bumping the bottle against your tummy.

You hiss at the sudden chill. Wiping cold droplets from your skin, you swipe it from his grasp.

Joel pushes himself from the bed with a quiet groan and pads across the room. His cock sways with each step, an arrowhead of thick hair at its base.

He doesn’t seem to mind, either.

You tip your chin back, taking a hefty swig.

The pulsing bass is heavier, guitar squeal sharper, when he cracks open the window. Cool air sweeps past the scent of sex and settles softly on your skin.

The mattress dips again as Joel settles back into bed. He pulls the sheet over himself, silk falling over the stubborn shape against his thigh.

“Well,” you pass him the bottle, “happy birthday, old man. Here’s to forty-eight.”

“Here’s to forty-eight,” Joel echoes, staring off into space, “and whatever the hell it has in store.”

1:29. 1:29. 1:30.

It’s blurring across your vision. The pain and the panic and the blinking of your fucking alarm clock.

Your stomach is still tensed in the aftermath of the contraction; an ache like the slow sway of the ocean, a wave rolling off into the distance. You’re hunched over the edge of the bed – knee bouncing, palms kneading your round belly.

“We’re okay,” you whisper, blowing into the still night. “We’re fine. Maybe it isn’t labor, right? Maybe it’s just those…Braxton…shit…Hicks.”

The cicadas laugh as your uterus swings again.

Another kick of pain; a bolt that winds you, piercing from your stomach down between your legs. So slow it feels fucking personal.

Your back curls, nails digging into the mattress. You grit your teeth until it passes, then push yourself to your feet, reaching for your phone.

You think of Joel: the flecks of gold in his eyes, the rough surface of his palms. The fresh, woodsy scent woven into every thread on his shirt, seeping from every pore on his skin.

The way he’d pull you under his arm and walk you to his truck. Play more Eagles or whatever shit he has to take your mind off the pain – tell you he knows, he knows as you whimper in agony. The way he’d hold your thigh the entire ride, loosening it only to weave his fingers through yours.

He’s in Houston, though. He’s something like three hours away. There’s nothing he could do, even if you did call – even if he did pick up. Even if he got in his truck right this second.

Shit. Shit fuck shit. How are you in labor right now, on this fucking night? All your teasing, all your taunting the universe. You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?

Yeah. They’re half you.

You’re on your own. It’s nothing new; you’ve been on your own for most of your life. You drove yourself to college, worked your ass off, and sold your graduation guest tickets to your roommate. You found a job by yourself, moved back to Austin and turned it into home by yourself.

You haven’t needed anyone or anything, since you were eighteen.

But – oh, Jesus, fuck it. This was a two-man job from the start. Some things you figure you can let slide – and having a kid seems like a pretty decent excuse.

Fuck it.

You move, hunched and hobbling, to the bathroom door. Slumped against the wooden frame, you cup a hand between your legs.

Sure enough, your underwear is soaked. The fluid trickles down the seam of your thigh, warm and thin. It glistens in the moonlight when you lift your fingers.

“Shit,” you whisper. “Goddamn it, Duck.”

Body tingling and almost numb with pain, you scroll through your contacts to J. You stumble into the bathroom, wet fingers slipping around the sink. A weight begins to pull low between your hips.

Two rings and the tone cuts, his voice instantly spilling a cool comfort down your spine.

There’s no hello, no double checking that you haven’t accidentally dialed him in your sleep. Only that trademark drawl, that flat tone you’d swear sounded bored, if it weren’t for the haste with which Joel asks, “You okay?” the second he answers.

As if he were awake anyway, just waiting for your call.

“Yeah,” you choke, rubbing the nape of your neck. “I just called at one in the morning to…to say hi.”

He sighs, the crackle of breath echoed by the tinkle of wind chimes. The creak of wood as he settles into a chair on Vanessa’s parents’ porch. “Alright, smartass. What is it?”

“I’m…I’m in labor.”

“Mhm. That sure is funny, baby. Good one.”

You groan. “No, Joel, I swear – I swear, I just went into labor.”

He pauses. The chimes titter in the background. “You’re…You ain’t kidding me?”

The sharp peak of pain swipes the air clean from your lungs. The phone hits the sink with a clatter, drowning out your cry.

This kid is beating the ever-loving shit out of you. You’d be embarrassed if you had the energy to think about it.

“Baby?” Joel yells, loud enough that the sound loops around the bowl. His voice lifts to an octave you didn’t know it could reach. “Talk to me. Please, talk to me.”

Your fingers clamp around the phone. “I’m f-fine. It’s fine. I just gotta…gotta change my fuckin’ sheets, Joel, my waters broke while I was sleeping –”

“Oh, Christ,” he growls. The door squeals as he storms back into Vanessa’s family home. “The sh…Change the goddamn sheets? You gotta get to a hospital, darlin’!”

You laugh, head tipping back. “It’s fine,” you tell him. “Feels like the kid’s trying to kill me, but I can – shit, I can take ‘em.”

There’s the jangle of keys, the ruffle of a shirt being thrown over his head. “Yeah?” Joel says.“You can take childbirth, all on your own? Do me a favor and call a damn ambulance, baby.”

“An ambulance,” you repeat, laughing again.

“Yes, an ambulance. Call 9-1-1 right now. You want me to call ‘em? Let me go grab the landline –”

“Joel, do not call an ambulance –”

And if you thought you’d heard him at breaking point before – plucking your underwear from his lawn, dragging you around Home Depot, paling in your room with a pregnancy test in his hands – you know you have, now.

“You gotta get to a goddamn hospital now, baby!”

His voice trembles at its end, quivers like the pluck of a guitar string. A high-pitched echo, a nervous vibration.

Joel’s panicking.

It’s the second thing in less than five minutes that you never knew he could do.

“I can’t afford a f-fucking ambulance, Joel,” you yelp, sitting back on the edge of the bathtub.

“I will pay for it,” he pleads, “I’ll pay. Just – you gotta call them. You gotta…” He sighs again, breath wavering. “You’re in labor, and you’re alone. If anything happened to you, I –”

A hushed voice interrupts him. Follows him through the house, knotting her nightgown around her waist and twisting her dark tresses into a ponytail.

“She’s in labor,” Joel tells her. “I can’t stay. I’m going back for her.”

The porch door slams shut before Vanessa can reply, and Joel’s back outside again. Gravel crunching beneath his boots, crickets screaming in the background. “Still with me?” he asks.

“Still here,” you breathe, tracing your nails along your leg. “Duckie says hi, I guess.”

He hums. “Hi, Duckie. You little shit.”

You rock back and forth, eyes closed. Breathing between contractions, your head low between your shoulders. “How long will you be?”

The truck door creaks open. “I’m leaving right now. I’ll be…Fuck, I’ll be a couple hours, at least. I’m on my way, alright?”

Tears drip onto your bare thighs, the salt spilling into your mouth. “Joel,” you shake your head, “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes, you can,” he says. “Are you kidding? Got us this far ‘n now you want to bail? That ain’t you, baby. Come on, now.”

“I wanna bail,” you insist. You slump to the floor, head lolling over the rim of the bathtub. Weeping like a little kid. “I’m scared, Joel. I’m so scared.”

“I know you are. Lord knows I’m scared, too – scared as hell. But –” the engine roars to life, “– I can’t wait to finally meet this kid. Our kid. Can’t wait to hold ‘em. Can’t wait to see you become a mom, and me become a dad.”

“Mom and Dad,” you whisper, sniffling.

“Mom and Dad, right? Yeah. You can do this. I know you can.”

The bathroom blurs behind your tears. You close your eyes, replacing the pale night with warmer dawn. Replacing it with images of tiny hands and feet; missing front teeth and a love-worn teddy tucked safely into bed.

Joel’s voice is softer, kinder. Calmer, now that he’s closing the hundred and fifty miles between the two of you.

“Just – don’t let the kid give you any shit, alright?”

The fear boils into determination. Something more irritating than it is terrifying. You inhale, blowing a heavy, shuddered breath to the ceiling. “Whatever, Miller.”

“Attagirl,” he says. “That’s the spirit. Now, call a damn ambulance.”

With a scoff, you push yourself to your feet, waddling towards the foot of your bed. You sway back and forth, holding your bump and listening to the hum of Joel’s truck.

And then you hear it.

Three sharp raps, from downstairs.

You wander to the hallway, squinting in the dark. “Joel?”

“Hm?”

“Are you…?”

The sound grows louder the nearer you draw. Quick knuckles against your front door.

“Am I what, darlin’?”

You lower yourself down the stairs, fist tight around the rail.

It’s August again. Sun’s encore blazing through your kitchen windows, bleeding golden through your living room. Everything shining, everything new and untouched.

Knock knock knock.

Light satin, duck egg blue; string lights and a diamond-encrusted necklace. The bones of your wardrobe propped against your porch. A rattling toolbox hanging from his fist, a positive pregnancy test in yours.

The knocking halts when you flick the porch light on. She calls your name once, old voice quivering.

Your phone is still glued to your ear as you pull the door open. “Al…?”

She squints at you and lifts a hand to shield from the light. She’s still in her pajamas – green dressing gown loose and lifting in the breeze.

Her eyes drop to the tee draped over your bump, the silver stream of fluid down the inside of your thigh. As she opens her mouth to speak, your hand slams into the doorpost.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan, and Alice Brown steps straight over the threshold.

“Are you in labor? Oh, sweetie. Sit down, sit.”

She backs you towards the stairs. One bony, trembling hand around yours – squeezing as tight as you are. She rubs up and down your spine, shushing until the pain subsides.

You blink up at her glowing figure, haloed by the porch light outside. “How did you…?”

She hushes you with a finger in the air. “I’m up most nights. I heard you from the window. Have you called 9-1-1?”

You shake your head, beginning to cry again.

Alice just nods, dismissing your bullshit. “Where’s your overnight bag, sweetheart?”

You toss a thumb over your shoulder. “It’s up in the nursery. I can go grab it –”

She holds you still with a hand on your shoulder. “Stay.” Another curt nod, then, “Get your shoes, get yourself over to my car. Do you need pants? You need pants. My car, right now.”

“Alice, you really don’t have to –”

“Get in the car,” she insists, climbing past you. “I’m right behind you!”

You watch her figure dissolve into the dim upstairs, and lift the phone back to your ear. “Did you…hear all that?”

“Alice Brown,” Joel replies, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “What’d I tell ya? That woman doesn’t miss a goddamn thing in this neighborhood.”

“Three centimeters,” the obstetrician says, covering your legs with the sheet. “Still a little ways to go.”

The suite is hushed and still. Walls an unoffending shade of oatmeal; decorated only with oak paneling and a framed painting of some lilies.

A nurse tilts the shades, averting the twinkling city lights in the distance. She turns and smiles – the same fucking smile everyone’s been giving you since you set foot in the place. Head tilted, brows arched.

Sympathy that you want to chew up and spit back out at their feet.

You force yourself to smile in return, and she floats back out to the bustling reception.

“Will he make it?” Alice asks. She’s still in her pajamas; the floral print goes well with the interior of the room. “The father, I mean. Joel.”

The obstetrician peels the gloves from her hands. She shrugs as she drops them into a wastebin. “I don’t see why not,” she says. “Things are moving a little quickly, but I don’t see you having your baby in the next couple hours.”

“You don’t know this kid like I do,” you groan, shifting in the bed.

She lifts the cardiotocograph reading, scanning the jagged lines. “You’re doing great,” she says. “I’ll be back in a little while. Just holler if you need anything.” She strolls off, letting the door sweep shut behind her.

Alice adjusts your pillow and squeezes your shoulder. She holds out a cup of water, guiding the straw to your lips. “He’ll be here,” she whispers.

You take a sip and settle back. “I don’t think I’m that lucky. I told him I hoped he’d get a flat on the ride there. This feels like karma.”

“Well, if it’s anyone’s karma –” she wiggles her fingers, “– it’s his. Going to Houston was ridiculous in the first place. Hell, you two not being together is ridiculous.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Just because we’re having a kid doesn’t mean we should be together. You shouldn’t be with someone for the sake of a baby who won’t even know any different.”

“Right, right,” Alice agrees, turning away. “You should only be with someone if you love them.”

“Exactly. And me and Joel – we’re not in love.”

She murmurs to herself. She lowers into a chair by the window, crossing her arms. “I’m seventy-three,” she says. “I’m not a damn fool.”

Something twists awkwardly between your hips. You wince, clutching your bump.

Duckie’s heartbeat pulses through the room. Muffled little bubbles of noise, popping one after the other. Strong and steady as hell – a determined little thing, the doctor said.

Don’t I fucking know it, you thought.

You reach for the silicone mask and cup it over your mouth. The gas is cold and funny when you inhale, feeling it shoot straight for the back of your skull. It does little more than dull the spiking pain, but still – you tip your head back, eyes rolling closed.

You let yourself fade from the suite – its yellow lamplight and hushed chatter outside – to somewhere warmer. Somewhere brighter.

Birdsong high overhead, and the whispering leaves on the oak trees in your yard. The sweet breeze on your skin, soothing the sting of the sun. Prickling wood on your fingertips, the gentle strum of a guitar somewhere beyond the fence.

Peering between the slats, catching glimpses of him like watching a film reel. His head nodding, his foot tapping. The concentration tight on his face; the perfect pick and pluck of his fingers on each string.

Half-hoping that he’ll spot you, scold you for spying and storm back into his house. That he might bring it up later – And another thing, while he whips his newspaper from your grasp, ignoring your cackling.

Half-hoping that he won’t. That he’ll sit there at his back door, bottle of beer at his feet, playing to his audience of sparrows.

And you’ll stand here, wishing you could ask the name of each song he hums.

The contraction splits your daydream in two.

In two hours, you dilate almost three centimeters.

You pace back and forth across the suite, pausing only when your womb clenches like a fist. The contractions are lasting longer, swinging lower, and punching harder. They’re giving you less recovery time; less of a chance to get back on your feet.

It’s a fucking nightmare.

Joel’s still not here. Last you heard, he’d just hit Travis County. Twenty minutes, baby, I promise. That was half an hour ago.

It might be for the better that he hasn’t gotten here. You’ve warned Alice three times already that you might just beat the shit out of him, whenever he walks through that door.

And you know what, sweetheart? She chuckled. I bet you could beat the shit out of him, sore as you are.

“Fuck,” you cry out, collapsing onto the bed. You stretch out forward, head hanging between your shoulders, and gulp back more of the laughing gas. The ache barrels from your stomach to your hips, peaking in the very center.

Alice rubs circles into the small of your back. It’s not helping, but you let her do it anyways. Gives her something to tell the neighbors that isn’t damaging to your reputation.

“That’s it,” she coos. “A little longer, just a little…”

The door clicks open just as the tense band begins to loosen.

Your head is spinning. The mask slips from your fingers.

Alice’s hand pauses. “…a little longer…” she repeats, voice drifting. Her weight leaves your back, replaced by something heavier, stronger.

Safer.

Someone grounding, someone smelling of pine and sweet spice.

He sits on the bed at your back and curves around your body. Lips to your shoulder like the sun in your backyard. His beard scratches against your hot skin.

You blink your eyes open.

Joel’s watch face winks back at you. His hands are over yours – bigger, wider. His fists swallow yours whole. They turn, slipping beneath your palms, and your fingers lace together.

“Joel…” you breathe, face turning in to his neck.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he says, wiping sweat from your brow.

You fall limp against his chest. “Holy shit.”

He looks exhausted. Gray, almost translucent. Looks like he’s just driven a couple hundred miles, half asleep and wholly panicked.

But – he’s here. He made it.

The sight of him, the feel of him holding you upright, melts away any anger or resolve to fight back. For now, at least. Picking an argument can wait until there isn’t a human splitting you in two.

He’s here. You’re not doing this alone.

“Holy shit,” Joel repeats. “You okay?”

“How did you get here so –?”

“Ninety-five the entire way.”

You frown. “Only ninety-five?”

“Trunk’s a hunk a’ shit,” he admits. “Couldn’t break a hundred.”

Alice scoffs, somewhere across the room.

He cradles you, his lips to your forehead. “Where we at?” he asks, staring at the paper churning from the cardiotocograph.

“Five, almost s–shit – six centimeters.” You clamp down on his hands, your uterus winding again.

Joel holds the mask back to your lips and you suck another chemical breath in. “Six? Jesus,” he gapes at Alice, “ain’t that…ain’t that real fast? For – for your first?”

Your fingers are weak and shaky, resting on his knuckles. “Your kid has a sick sense of humor,” you mutter into the silicone.

“That ain’t from me,” he says. “That’s all you, maestro.”

You turn closer into his shirt with a groan. He’s solid as a rock, swaying you through it. He’s here.

Alice swipes her coat from a hook by the door. She shakes her head, pulling it over her shoulders. “Ninety-five, Joel? Sweet Lord.”

He rolls his eyes. His hand curves around your bump. “Had a little bit of an emergency, Alice,” he says, watching your face twist with pain.

“And what if you’d had an accident?”

“I didn’t, Alice.”

“You could’ve, goin’ that damn fast. You’re lucky you’re even here.”

Joel finally looks up. “It’s four in the mornin’,” he protests, like a teenager. “Lucky if I passed five cars.”

You give him a weak smile, lowering the mask. You won’t win, you mouth.

He presses his lips to your head. “’s too much fun,” he murmurs, and you snort.

“Oh!” Alice throws a hand up. “I’m glad you find it funny!” She buttons her coat and glares back at both of you, hands on her hips.

She’s a busybody – has been since before you even moved in. She showed up on your doorstep on your first night with a casserole in hand, and made sure to get a good look at your living room before she shuffled back to her own place.

Always watching, always listening.

You never thought you’d see the day when you’d actually be thankful for her snoopiness.

“Thank you, Alice,” you say, head tilting. “For getting me here, for holding my hand…Thank you.”

Her expression thaws, eyes gleaming. With a sniff, she composes herself – and then points to Joel. “You call me as soon as that baby arrives. I won’t sleep, Joel, until you call.”

“I’ll call,” he assures.

She looks back at you. Balls her crepe paper fists, gives them a hearty shake. “Good luck, Mom,” she says, and with one last glance, slips out of the room.

Joel turns back to you, an eyebrow raised. “Take it she was out tendin’ to her tulips again?”

“Yeah,” you snicker, “one in the morning, those fuckers had to be watered.”

He chuckles. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Better now,” you tell him.

“I’m so sorry, darlin’,” he says, shaking his head. “I should’ve been here. A goddamn idiot, headin’ off like that. So damn stupid.”

“Shh, you’re here now.” You wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes. “I just needed you to be here.”

He nods. “I’m here, whatever you need. Tell me what I can do.”

You take a deep breath. “I need…”

Joel straightens – bracing, ready to jump at your first request.

“…I need a fucking break, Joel. I’m so tired, and this fucking kid –”

“Alright,” he sighs, shifting from behind you. “You and your goddamn jokes.”

You smirk, looking over your shoulder. “You missed me.”

“Hm,” he fixes the neckline of your gown, “I missed you. I really did.”

Born at 07:43. It’s a girl.

It’s like being broken open. Like splitting at the seams; your old self falling from you like shards of fruit. Separating, rolling apart; making way for someone older, wiser. Someone with all of the answers in the palm of her hand.

Mom.

You finally get it. She turns to you, finally glances over her shoulder. And she’s no stranger – no one you haven’t known your entire life. I know you, you whisper, nail trailing her smile lines and the pimples along her jaw.

I see you every time I look in the mirror.

Duckie is pulled from your body with a scream like bloody murder – a scream which matches the whimper you let out in shock, if not in volume.

The kid can scream. Jesus Christ, she can scream. It pierces the dull room; deafens you for a couple seconds the first time you hear it.

You’ve never heard a sound so fucking beautiful.

She wails as they lift her from your body. All curled-up, wriggling in the midwife’s arms. She wails as they slot her beneath your chin, as they wipe the blood and amniotic fluid from her.

She wails until the moment her skin meets yours, and as though it’s all you’ve ever known, you begin shushing her cries. Your arms close around her body, rocking her until she settles.

Her tiny hand grabs for something, for someone, for –

You.

Her mom.

“Joel,” you gasp, watching her tiny, pruned fingers clasp tight around just one of yours. “She’s…she’s so small…”

He sniffs in reply, lifting his hand from your shoulder to wipe his face.

You turn to look up at him.

He looks as broken open as you feel. Eyes bloodshot and soaking, tears streaming into his thick beard. A sob in his throat which chokes and silences him, until he catches your eye and he can’t help but laugh with elation.

“Look at her,” he weeps, all torn up by the little girl in your arms. He presses his lips to your forehead in a crash of a kiss: wet, soaking wet on your skin.

You beam up at him when he pulls away. “We did it,” you whisper.

Joel shakes his head. He runs a thumb across the damp print left on your head. “You did it, honey,” he mutters. “I was nothin’ but a spectator.”

“You almost missed the game,” you quip, and he laughs again.

Your body throbs; nearly numb with pain, heavy with fatigue and emotion. But as long as she’s here, this tiny tornado of a girl, you don’t feel a thing.

Clenching and then unclenching her fist around your finger – so delicate compared to the punches she was throwing at your ribs just six hours ago. She’s worth every fucking second of it.

You finally fucking get it.

She fits so perfectly in the crook of your arm. It feels as though your body was made just to hold her – the very shape of you, designed especially for the very shape of her.

You wonder whether it was the same for your mom. Whether you came along and made her feel whole, for the first time in her life.

Duckie’s eyes open – all glossy and brand new, blinking up at the both of you like she needed no introduction. She already knows you, from the inside out. Her dad’s graying beard, the threads of silver around his temples. Her mom’s tear-stained cheeks, eyes red and bleary with sleeplessness and pure love.

You’re Mom, you’re Dad.

It’s all she’s ever known.

The pillow sighs as you lean back into it. The doctor begins repairing the damage done between your legs; threading and knitting your body back together.

You’re caught between a state of bliss and shock. Your brain is doing much the same work to itself as the woman between your knees is. Patching over all the bloody parts: the screams which tore your skin, the pain which cracked your teeth.

None of it holds a candle to the weight of her in your arms. No matter how tired you are, you can’t take your eyes off her. Her puffy cheeks, the little creases between her brows. No matter how sore, you never want to let go of her.

Joel runs a finger down Duckie’s cheek. “Ain’t she the most beautiful thing in the world?”

“I love her,” you say, bubbling again. “I love her more than anything.”

An hour old, and she’s already a daddy’s girl.

Joel ambles back and forth at the foot of your bed in the recovery suite, bouncing Duck in his arms. He’s never looked so relaxed, so natural at something. He’s never seemed so content, so peaceful.

Everything he’s ever made with his hands – structures and framework and your goddamn closet – and yet this, this tiny accident, this baby girl you were so sure you’d dreamt up right up until an hour ago –

This is the thing he’s proudest of.

Morning lifts through the windows, all soft and vanilla. It floats around him, sunlight spilling across his skin and breathing life and color into him.

Sunlight – or his daughter. They’re the same thing, anyway.

You pull apart a slice of toast, watching. Just watching. Sweet strawberry jam on your tongue, the flavor of everything sharper, fresher. The colors brighter, more vivid.

The world makes more sense like this, you think. Painted in shades of honey and ochre; a room in a corner of the world where time slows to a halt. A soft lullaby from his lips, and the little coos from hers.

The ache of love and labor lingers deep inside you, and nothing has ever made more sense.

You suck the sticky sweet from your fingertips.

Joel looks up, toying with Duckie’s hand. “You want her back?” he asks, a dumb grin on his face.

You shake your head. “I like watching you.”

He scrunches his nose, nuzzling it against his daughter’s, and whispers, “I wasn’t gonna give you back, anyways.” He sways in the early light, staring down at her. “Jesus,” he mutters, swiping at his eyes again, “I didn’t…I didn’t know I could love somethin’ this much.”

“Me, either.”

He drifts over, lowering himself slowly onto the edge of the bed. He extends his elbow, still cradling the baby, and helps you pull yourself upright.

You hiss, a not-so-subtle sting between your legs.

“You, uh…you think of a name yet?” Joel asks.

“Not yet,” you reply, hooked onto his shoulder. Duck blows a bubble and you wipe it with your knuckle. “I thought we were sticking with Duckie?”

His cheeks swell. The sun kisses the edges of his beard. “I thought of one,” he says softly. “Maybe. It’s your call.”

You yawn into his shirt, the warmth of him calm and soothing. “Alright, Miller. Hit me.”

He looks down at the baby nestled in his safe hands. The smallest thing either of you have ever seen.

The name must roll around his head a few times, the way he tilts to-and-fro – looking at her from one angle, then the next. Deciding, when he pulls back, that she suits it from every direction. Like it was her name long before he or even you knew it.

You watch his lips shape the name before you hear it.

Sarah.

And for what feels like forever, you just stare at him. The syllables lingering in the air like glistening specks of dust in a sunbeam. Your eyes follow them down to your daughter, now sleeping peacefully with two hands around one of her dad’s thumbs.

“Sarah,” you repeat, remembering whose name it was, whose name it is – whose name it has always been. “Sarah Miller.”

Joel’s shoulders lift. “What do you think? She look worthy of bein’ a Sarah?”

The rustle of tissue paper. Blue and green and purple tearing between your fingers. The funny fuzz of pom poms as your hands rummaged through the bag. Her hand swimming towards you, an orange foam fish riding the waves between her fingers. Bubbly sounds erupting from her lips.

Your girlish giggle. Her silly grin. Hopscotch along the sidewalk; stopping to look for cars before she’d walk you across the street. How much do I love you, baby girl?

More than the whole world, Mama.

“I love it,” you breathe, tears running to the corners of your mouth. “Sarah fucking Miller.”

“Sarah fuckin’ Miller,” Joel echoes; two wet lines the same as yours, curving down his cheeks. He shifts her into the crook of his arm.

You’re impossibly close. Your chin rests on his shoulder, foreheads brushing when you lean in to each other. His breath is hot on your lips, closer and closer and closer until –

He tastes like salt, rich with emotion. Salt, and then sweet when your tongue meets his. He lifts his free hand to cup your cheek, and your fingers link around his wrist.

And you know you shouldn’t be doing it – know this isn’t your man to be kissing. But in this room, where no one else can see – where it’s just you, him, and all the best parts of yourselves shaped into someone better – he feels like yours.

Just for a moment.

Joel takes the first week of Sarah’s life off work.

He spends a good twenty minutes on the phone to the contractor, talking more about the kid than he does the job. Her eyelashes, her fingernails, the way her legs scrunch anytime he lifts her up.

He’s besotted with the entire thing. And he tells everybody so.

He moves in with you both, stays in your guestroom. It’s a week of no sleep, no peace, and a total of three showers between you. Wearing the same clothes covered in spit-up and drool until one of you has the time or energy to do laundry.

It’s hard. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done. By your count, you’ve already cried three times to Joel – terrified you’re getting it all wrong.

But you’re doing it. Jesus God, you’re doing it.

You order takeout most nights. You can’t stand long enough to cook just yet, and you don’t trust Joel not to burn your fucking kitchen down – despite his protests. And it feels like, after everything your body’s given you, it deserves a greasy pizza and some chicken wings.

You rot on the couch together, watching shitty TV and arguing over reruns of Jeopardy! – until Sarah wakes and the whole thing begins again.

Joel loses the game of rock, paper, scissors tonight.

“Shh, baby girl. ‘s alright now, I gotcha,” he lulls, tucking her back in to her bassinet.

She fusses and stretches out; arms over her head, legs curled up. Her onesie is still a little too big – the socked feet all baggy, the sleeves rolled up her wrists.

He lingers for a moment as she drifts off, a hand stroking her tummy. Watching, always watching her. The rise and fall of her stomach, the puffs of breath from her nostrils, her lips still suckling away in her sleep.

“I swear I have a baby photo that looks just like her,” you say. “Same nose and everything.”

Joel clicks his teeth. “Got her looks from her mom. Lucky thing.”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you snort.

He drifts back over, sinking into the couch at your side. “Doin’ okay?” he asks, and you nod.

Every muscle in your body still feels like a ton weight. Your stomach is still swollen; there are still stitches between your legs. There are moments you can’t tell if you’re crying because of hormones, exhaustion, or joy.

Every time, it’s a combination of all three.

Life before feels so long ago – and it hasn’t even been a fortnight. But then you held her for the first time, and now – your arm misses the weight of her when she’s not in it. Your house feels eerily quiet when she’s not laughing, or whimpering, or screaming the fucking roof down.

You can feel your daughter growing up already, and she’s only ten days old.

On the mantelpiece, safe in a stippled gold frame, your mom beams down over her. The photo at least twenty years old, the memory even older. Laughing, the way she always was; nothing quite so funny as a joke frozen in time.

Joel prods you with his elbow. “She’d be proud of you, you know. Your mom.”

“Oh,” you scoff, “no, she’d be like, Holy shit. This kid totally kicked your ass.”

He chuckles. “Sure she did,” he shrugs, “she’s your kid.”

The TV babbles to itself across the room. In its glow, Joel meets your eye. A tiny, pearly fleck swimming in deep honey.

It’s familiar – each shade of bronze in his eyes, each thread of silver through his hair. Like you’ve mapped each and every line on his skin, collecting them like the sleepless hours between you.

Everything about him feels so normal. Burnt toast in the morning, a spoon clinking around a mug of coffee. The rustle of the newspaper, the sizzle of eggs in the pan, the baby snoring on your chest.

Everything – and yet nothing you’ve ever known.

“I miss her,” you whisper. “I miss my mom.”

His hand finds yours instantly. “I know, baby. I know you do.”

You slouch down, leaning on his shoulder, and close your eyes. Joel presses his lips to the crown of your head, his thumb looping around your knuckles.

Sarah gurgles in her sleep. She sighs – a satisfied little sound. Nothing has ever made more sense.

His voice rumbles against your skull. “Who sent the lilies?”

Your eyes flutter open. “Hm?”

Joel flicks his finger towards the window, towards a sprawl of speckled, cream flowers. “The lilies? They weren’t there this morning.”

“Oh…” You turn to look up at him, cringing.

He sees the flicker of her behind your eyes. Her lustrous curtain of hair, her perfect almond nails.

“Really?” Joel asks, mirroring your expression.

You nod, trying not to laugh. “From her and Kate. You were upstairs with Sarah when she came by. I offered to call you down, but – she just wanted to drop ‘em and go.”

“What did she…? Did she say anything?”

Your head shakes. “She just…she said congratulations, said she hoped we were okay. Then she got in her car and she left. I kinda figured things weren’t sunshine and roses, anyway. You haven’t fuckin’ seen her since Houston.”

He snorts, fingers massaging his eyes. “I was goin’ to tell you,” he mumbles into his palms, “I just…Honey, I don’t even know what day of the week it is right now. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” you mutter.

“Yes, I do,” he insists. His eyes flit over to Sarah, then back to you. “We haven’t really talked it through yet, me ‘n her. I called her a few days ago, we agreed it’s time. It – it’s past time. I shoulda called it months ago.”

“I guess,” you sigh. “Are you okay?”

Joel’s brow furrows. “’course I am. I got the most beautiful baby girl in the world,” and then, rolling his eyes, “you’re here.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you clip, batting his arm. “Vanessa could do way better, anyways.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

You squeeze his fingers, softly adding, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Joel.”

He stares down at your clasped hands. He looks tired, worn out. You figure it’s not just from the newborn. But he takes a deep breath, something the color of relief dawning on his skin, and looks you dead in the eye.

“I’m not.”

­“Hey, Duckie – can you say, Happy birthday, Daddy?”

A vinyl wobbles on the turntable – some acoustic record from when Joel was a teenager. There’s wrapping paper still crumpled beneath the coffee table; four plates with more crumbs than cake left, dotted around the room.

Tommy leans in, a lopsided party hat on his head, and tickles Sarah’s chin.

She blinks at him, unamused, then scrunches her little nose and turns back into your chest.

He sighs, straightening. “She don’t like her uncle Tommy all that much,” he grumbles, sulking back over to the couch. Maria puts a consoling arm around his shoulder.

You rest your lips on Sarah’s head, breathing in her sweet scent. Swaying back and forth, you tease, “She don’t like anyone all that much, not unless they’re her daddy.”

Joel’s head lifts and he smiles, eyes glistening. He watches you and Sarah dance; laughs when you twirl her around and she tips her head back, flashing a gummy grin.

“She’ll come around to ya,” he tells Tommy, wandering over to your side. “We all learned to, eventually.”

Tommy scoffs. “Very funny, old man. Jesus.”

Joel stoops down to let Sarah run her small hands through his beard. He catches her fingertips between his lips and pretends to nibble on them.

She giggles, squirming in your arms. Her fingers find the sweeps of hair on his forehead and, taking a fistful, she tugs.

“Christ,” Joel hisses, pulling back.

“That was on you this time,” you chuckle, pointing a finger. “You know she does that, and you still fall for it.”

Maria glances down at her watch. “Is that the time?” she asks, turning to Tommy. “We should really turn in.”

“Oh – right, right.” Tommy tips the last of his beer into his mouth. “We’re takin’ Mom to brunch tomorrow. Better get some goddamn rest.”

Joel hums, still massaging his hairline. “Hey,” he whispers, elbowing you. “Maybe I should take her over. She’s getting sleepy – ain’t you, little Duck?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Tommy stands and holds a hand out. “Why don’t you let Maria and I take her? We’ll tuck her in, keep an eye on her. We weren’t half bad the other day, while y’all were at work. And if she’s stayin’ at Joel’s tonight anyway…”

You glance to Joel, who shrugs. Something shaped like Sure.

“As long as you don’t mind,” you reply, bouncing the baby slowly. “Let me go grab her things.”

Joel’s hand slips across the small of your back as you pass, making for the stairs. He lingers at the bottom, watching until you turn into the nursery with Sarah in the crook of your arm.

You set her down in her crib and gather some of her favorites: a yellow blanket, a duck comforter, a rattle shaped like an elephant. She watches contentedly as you shuffle back and forth, staring when you lean over the wooden rail.

“You know how much I love you?” you whisper, curling a finger inside her fist. She squeezes, and you say, “More than the whole world.”

She grabs at the chain dangling from your neck, the letter S catching the light. Instead, she lifts your finger to her mouth. Her nails scratch light as a feather across your skin. Her gums are tiny and soft around your knuckle.

Everything about her is tiny and soft. Her sweeping eyelashes, her plushy cheeks. Her round tummy, and the squeals she lets free as you dot kisses and blow raspberries all over it. No matter how much she’s grown in three months, she’s still so tiny.

She’ll always be the smallest, sweetest thing you’ve ever known. And she’s all yours.

“Jesus, kid,” you sniff, swiping at your tears. You slip your hands around her back and prop her on your hip. “Alright, let’s go. Quit making your mom cry.”

The bag over your shoulder, you carry her out of the room and into the dark hallway. It’s quiet downstairs; nothing but the crackle of the record player, the distant chink of dishes in the kitchen.

That – and hushed voices in the living room.

“Joel,” Tommy says, over and over again. He’s trying to cut in between his brother’s rambling. Joel – listen to me. Just listen, for one second –”

You linger on the bottom step, trying to split Joel’s voice from Tommy’s. Trying to pluck the words out, over Maria’s humming from the next room.

“…and it ain’t that simple, Tommy it’s –”

“What ain’t simple about it? You have a –” Tommy says it through his teeth, “– you have a kid together, Joel. You really think she’s gonna –”

Sarah grabs the charm around your neck and shakes suddenly, rattling the chain.

You close your hand around hers, losing your balance. “Shhhhit, Duckie, you –”

Joel’s eyes snap to your figure as you step down. He clears his throat, leaning away from Tommy. “Hey – hey, darlin’.”

“Hey,” you reply. Bright. Chipper. Unclenching your fist to let your daughter shake your necklace some more.

She squeals with delight when she spots Joel across the room.

“She ready to go?” he asks, slinging a quick – telling – look at Tommy.

You look between the brothers, browns quirking. They look as guilty as each other: scratching their beards, staring at the furniture instead of you. “Uhuh,” you reply, tongue against your teeth. “Everything…everything okay?”

Tommy slaps his thighs as he stands. “Everything’s great, sweetheart. Sure as shit. Joel – you, uh…you got a key on ya?”

“Oh, yep.” Joel reaches into his pocket. He unhooks a silver key from the chain and drops it into his brother’s open palm.

Tommy calls for Maria. He sidesteps around you, face flushed and smiling.

She floats through from the kitchen, drying her palms on her jeans. “Where’s my baby duck?” she sings, reaching for Sarah.

You pass her over and she melts into her aunt’s arms, curling up into a little pink lump on her chest. “She just had a feed, like, twenty minutes ago, so – she should go down pretty well. And there are more bottles in Joel’s fridge, if you need ‘em.”

Maria nods, wrapping Sarah’s blanket around her. She lifts the bag strap from your shoulder and hands it to Tommy. “I’ll text you as soon as she’s down. Come on, Duckie, let’s get you to bed.”

Tommy leans over and squeezes your arm, winking as he follows his wife. He calls goodnight to Joel, lifting a pointed finger over his head, and closes the door behind them.

Things could not have gone smoother.

It’s suspicious as shit.

You turn when you hear Joel shifting.

“C’mon,” he utters, a pile of plates in one hand. “I ain’t leavin’ you with this mess.” He heads through to the kitchen, broad figure swaying.

The plates spill into the sink, water trickling over them. Joel hums to himself as he gets to work with a sponge in hand.

You linger in the living room.

Things have been good lately – peaceful. You’re in as much of a routine as Sarah will allow: a steady pattern of dropping her off and picking her back up, patchwork family dinners, daytrips whenever both of you can make them.

Your body is healing, pulling itself back together. You don’t have to think about being Mom anymore – she walks in stride with you. The world is painted a new shade of normal – one where you can do anything with a baby on your hip, one where love becomes your first language.

One where you swallow back the ache in your heart, for better or for worse. The only piece of you still fractured. The only wound left open.

Joel’s birthday cards lie flat on the coffee table. You pluck them up one by one – his parents’, Tommy and Maria’s, yours – and Sarah’s.

A messy splotch of a handprint, bright yellow paint smeared across half the fucking card (she hasn’t quite mastered self-control yet). A googly eye plastered to the bird’s chest; orange crayon for the beak and legs.

Sure, you took charge for most of the project – but when he opened it and saw his daughter’s little masterpiece, you caught him swiping his knuckle at the corner of his eye. He snuggled into her, perched on his lap, and whispered, Thank you, little Duckie.

You prop them along your mantelpiece, dotted around your mom’s photo. When you step back, looking from son to brother to…a good friend, you could almost pretend.

Almost pretend that they belong here, on this mantelpiece. There is no yours and his. Just one of everything; nothing doubled nor halved.

Almost pretend that he won’t collect them as he leaves, break into another teary laugh at the sight of the duck painting, and then kiss your cheek goodnight. Promise to have your daughter back in time to go swimming tomorrow morning.

Almost.

“Hey,” Joel calls, “did you, uh – did you hear Tommy talkin’ about Jackson?”

You slip into the kitchen, side by side with him at the sink. “Uh, yeah,” you reply, lifting a towel. “Moose, pine trees. Yep.”

“It sounds beautiful. You think we should take a trip up there sometime? Could be Sarah’s first vacation.”

“You mean the three of us?”

He shrugs, scrubbing a bowl in the water. “Sure. I don’t think Duckie would let one of us stay behind, do you? She’d scream the damn airport down,” he chuckles, looking back to the twinkling bubbles.

You hum. “Maybe.”

“You don’t feel like it?”

“No, I do. I just – I don’t know. Maybe someday.”

“Okay,” Joel says, nodding. “Put a pin in it.”

He passes you a dripping plate and you drag the towel over it, circling the pattern until the suds are wiped clean. And another, and another.

It feels awkward. It feels stiff. There’s something hanging between you, heavy on both your shoulders. A weight you haven’t felt around Joel in over a year.

You turn to him as he stacks the last plate on the draining board. “Is that what you were talking to Tommy about?”

Joel pauses. “You heard that, huh?”

“Only the part about having a kid. It’s none of my business, I know, I just –”

“Actually,” he clears his throat, “it’s plenty your business.”

He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. A deep breath, cheeks puffing as he exhales. His grip on the dish towel whitens his knuckles.

He’s…nervous. The same shade of gray he wore the night you went into labor.

He takes another unsteady breath.

“Joel?” you ask, head tilting. “Whatever it is, you can say it. I got whiskey, if that’ll make it easier. Probably tastes like shit, but…”

His expression cracks. His eyes twinkle, and he smiles. Only a little, but enough. Enough to let the words slip through.

“You know, that night at Tommy’s wedding was one of the best nights of my life.”

Your heartbeat thuds a bassline in your ears; the rush of your blood the squealing guitar. Skin tacky, moans caught between teeth. Laughter and lust tangling together in the air.

“Yeah?” you ask.

Joel nods. “Yeah. Lying there – talking, laughing, messin’ around. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard in all my life. I could’ve stayed in that room with you forever.”

Your eyes start to sting. You look away.

“I thought I would regret it. I thought I should regret it. And I never did. But then,” he takes a deep breath, “the next day, I look out front, and my newspaper’s sittin’ on my lawn. And for two weeks straight, I kept checking – and there it was. I thought, Sure as shit, she regrets the whole thing. I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

You shake your head. “I wanted to see you again. I missed – I missed you. Missed pissin’ you off.”

He laughs. “I missed you pissin’ me off. Missed that annoying as hell thud on my porch.”

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to – you know,” you admit, and Joel nods.

“We got pretty good at avoidin’ each other,” he grumbles. “And then – with Vanessa, I thought I’d be doin’ you a favor. Letting you off light.”

“You…you took her number to do me a favor?”

“Naw,” Joel says. “I took her number ‘cause her brother in-law has a lumber company, and I had a closet to build. I was drunk, I was an idiot, and I brought it up to her at the wedding. By the time I thought it through, you ‘n I weren’t speakin’.”

You stare at him, jaw slack. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shakes his head. He edges closer to you. Voice low, he says, “I shouldn’t’ve gone out on that first date with her. I shouldn’t’ve done any of it. I should’ve talked to you about what I was feeling.”

“Well, maybe we both should’ve,” you mutter, wringing your hands. “I wasn’t exactly the best at it, either.”

His head tips, considering. “Can I tell you now?”

You glance over to him. “Tell me what, Miller?”

“Tell you…tell you that I love you,” he whispers.

It steals the breath from your lungs. One clean swipe.

He nods to himself, then – certain of it – and says it again. “I do, darlin’. I love you.”

Your heart begins to hammer. Tears spill over onto your cheeks, dripping from your jaw.

“And, look –” Joel takes your wrists, “– I got no right to say any of that, I know. I put you through a hell of a lot, these last few months – and that kills me. But if you’ll let me, I swear to you – I’ll make it up to you. I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life.”

You look up. His cheeks are dappled, too – glistening with tears. “Joel…” you weep.

He cups your jaw. “Listen to me. What we’ve had, the last three months – I want it all the time. I want you, and I want Duck. I want the three of us under one roof. I want to sleep in the same bed as you.”

You breathe a shuddered laugh. Your hands fall over his wrists. Keep talking, you mouth, bottom lip trembling.

“I want to get married, or not,” Joel says. “I want to show up to Tommy and Maria’s anniversary party late, ‘cause Duck couldn’t pick which shoes she wanted to wear. I want to have more kids, take ‘em on vacation.”

“Wyoming?” you sniff.

“Wyoming,” he repeats. “I want…I want all of it, baby. You ‘n me. I want you ‘n me, more than anything in the world. And if I’m too late, then you can tell me. Tell me, and I swear on my life I will never mention it again.”

Your hands curve over his. His strong knuckles, worked and weathered and worn by his years. Down to his wrists – the tatty strap on his ages-old watch, the dark hair peppered along his arms.

“I love you so much, baby. So much that it drives me insane. You drive me…fuckin’ insane.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you whisper, balling your fists against his chest.

Joel laughs, nose brushing against yours. “Yeah,” he sniffs, “I figured you’d say som’ like that.”

“I love you, too,” you mumble, linking your arms around his neck. “Shit, I love you.”

“Ain’t that a thing?” he says, and his lips are on yours.

It’s been a year. A year since the first time you felt him – lips soft as velvet, sweet with alcohol and something stronger. His tongue and yours, his teeth and yours. Every part of you clashing with every part of him.

And goddamn, you’ve missed it.

Joel follows you upstairs, pinning you to the wall by your bedroom door. White heat flooding through your veins, he kneels before you and pulls you onto his tongue.

He’s hungry.

He laps at you as though you’ll be gone in the morning. As though he won’t wake up tangled in you, breathing in your scent, lips on your skin.

Dusk seeps in at the edges of your vision; daylight draining from the sky. It’s dark, too dark to see him clearly, but you feel him fucking everywhere.

His beard grazes the inside of your thigh. He kisses where he scratches your skin. He holds your hips steady, tongue dipping in and out.

“You know how fuckin’ sweet you taste?” he growls, slipping inside again.

He looks so good between your legs. Like he was made for it – made for you. All yours, in ways you never really understood until now.

He brings you to the edge with his tongue flat against your clit. Holding your hips firm against his mouth, groaning with you as you fall.

You come with a broken moan. Hips stutter to a halt, legs fall wide open. The warmth in your belly spills over and rushes to every corner of your body.

Joel moans, tongue still lapping as your cunt pulses all over him. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he slurs, watching you come undone.

He stands, a chaste kiss to your lips, and then parts them with his tongue. “Taste good?” he mumbles, kissing you gently.

Yeah, you think, moaning against him, it tastes fucking good.

He spreads you out on your mattress and kisses what feels like every square inch of your body. You giggle at the feeling of his lips behind your ear; moan when they close around your nipple.

Your back arches; little lightning bolts as he pulls the buds to a peak. Your fingers knot through his hair; hissing at the meeting of pain and pleasure between Joel’s lips.

“I love you,” you whisper, when he settles between your legs. You don’t know that you’ve felt something so true in all your life.

He smiles. Your fingers trace the lines at his eyes.

“Come here,” he says, and pulls your hips to meet his.

You curve a hand around his neck, glancing down at your open legs. “Looks a little different to the last time you saw her.”

Joel shakes his head, licking his lips. “Beautiful, baby. She looks so goddamn beautiful.”

Each movement is careful, deliberate. He notches his tip at your hole and pauses until you’re looking at him again.

And then he pushes in.

He slips an arm under your head; the other holding your thigh on his waist. He kisses you as you stretch around him. He still tastes like salt and slick.

You gasp, teeth gritting around a hiss. “Fuck,” you whimper, turning in to his chest.

“Easy, easy,” Joel coos, voice rumbling against your temple. “Catch your breath. Doin’ so good.”

“It’s not sore,” you tell him, nodding for him to move again. “It’s…it’s just…different.”

“Tighter,” he groans, eyes on your cunt as it draws his cock in.

You agree, “Tighter.”

He catches you in another kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips. “Feel so good, sweet girl. Breathe. ‘m right here.”

It’s never felt like this before. This gentle, this tender.

You have never felt like this before. Broken open, stitched back together. Your heart split into two – whole again each time his body meets yours.

Joel catches your moans on his tongue. He steadies his pace; rocking into you over and over. Laughing against your lips; your fingers intertwined with his.

“Feel good?” he pants.

Your head rolls back. “Mhm.”

“Take it, baby. Such a tight little thing.”

“Joel,” you cry, “I’m close.”

His teeth nip at your neck. “Shit,” his hips jump, “attagirl. Just like that.” He thrusts into you harder, bleeding the color from your vision.

You pull his lips to yours, foreheads tacky. Joel’s eyes gloss over.

I love you, he breathes.

And the world whitens.

He pulls you against his chest when you come back around. Shifts up the headboard, skin all sticky and warm. He kisses your temples, kisses your shoulders, kisses your knuckles.

You melt into his grasp, turning to look up at him. You run your fingers over his lips, through his damp hair. Just staring. Drinking him all in.

“You were right next door, the entire time,” you whisper.

He runs a thumb across your cheek. “Yep.”

“Do you think we wasted too much time?”

Joel’s lip turns. “Nah,” he says. “We found our way.”

“Needed a little help, though.”

He scoffs, tongue between his teeth. “I’m sure she’ll hold it against us forever.”

You think of that evening in August. The last bow of the sun before your world changed forever. Of deals struck and promises made. Of satin on your fingertips – newspaper ink and duck egg silk.

You think of that photograph on your mantelpiece. Bright eyes watching every second of it. A smile on her face the entire time.

You laugh to yourself. Joel looks down and kisses your swollen cheek.

“We should go,” he taps your thigh, “got a little duck who’ll be wonderin’ where her mama and daddy are.”

The church tower rings out twice as the truck purrs between graves.

Joel pulls up under the shade of a sycamore, tires rolling to a halt. Sarah kicks her feet, her heels thudding against her car seat.

“Mama,” she presses a sticky finger to the back window, “flowers.”

“Yeah, baby,” you call over your shoulder, hugging your own graveside gift a little tighter in your arms. “Lots of ‘em, huh?”

“Yeah,” your daughter quietly considers, then kicks her seat again.

Joel waits patiently for you to give him the go ahead. He slips a hand around your knee, looking ahead at the rows of headstones. So patient, so gentle.

Your chest swells, a deep breath filling your lungs, and you nod. “Alright.”

“Sure?” he asks. “Take as long as you want, darlin’.”

But if you wait any longer, you’ll never leave. The paper wrap crinkles in your arms. “You take Duck,” you reply, “I’ll take…”

Joel lifts your hand, placing a soft kiss between your knuckles. “You got it. We’ll walk on.”

He leaves you in the truck to collect yourself. He unbuckles Sarah and sets her loose, following her across the grass with his hands in his pockets.

Her light-up sneakers flash as she sprints; head tossed back, toothless smile pointed to the sun. She turns back to her dad, her little hand fitting perfectly into his.

Made for each other.

You hook your fingers around the handle and leave the truck.

Their grave is a short walk down a grassy slope, sheltered by another towering tree. Its leaves flutter down around you as you near the stone; stray petals which catch in the breeze and lead the way.

You kneel down, the grass dry and prickly through your jeans. “Hi, Mom,” you whisper, sweeping some dust from the base of the grave. “Hi, Dad.”

Your grandma picked this spot. She’s long gone – laid to rest elsewhere with a grandfather you never met – so you try to visit as often as you can. Freshen the flowers, brighten up the stone.

It fucking sucks, but someone’s gotta do it.

You peel the brown paper from the bouquet, exposing the soft colors Sarah picked back in the florist. They fit perfectly on the stone, right beneath the words Devoted parents.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a feeling that wraps itself around your throat and steals any other words – until a flash of pink catches your attention.

“Duckie,” Joel calls, following her between graves. “Hey. This is a cem…Hey, Duck, listen – this is a cemetery, we gotta be – Sarah!”

You stifle a laugh, watching him jog after the hoodie tied around her waist. He swipes for her hand and she dodges him, ducking between graves faster than his mid-fifties joints can turn him.

There’s no one else here – it’s only you. And it’s a quiet enough place as it is, so – you let her laugh. Let him chase her, and let her sneakers light the place in pink. What else is there to do?

“Sorry it’s been a little while,” you tell your parents, eyes still on your man.

He’s kneeling now, Sarah on his thigh, in front of a tall, cross-shaped stone. They’re pointing at the words on the stone, her inquisitive eyes studying each one.

“I know I said I’d come visit for Dad’s birthday, but I guess things got busy – what with the move and all. We’re still living out of boxes. But the girls’ rooms are almost done – we just gotta paint ‘em.”

You look back down to the stone. Your mom’s name carved deep into spotted marble, your dad’s underneath. One awful date to tie them both together.

Dad probably heard Duck’s first squeal and turned away; gone back to whatever boring activity he might get up to in the afterlife. But your mom, you know for certain, is sat with her chin on the heel of her palm. Watching her mini-me trace the shapes of words, squirming when Joel presses his lips to her temple and whispers hints to her.

She’s probably smiling, making some comment about how big Sarah’s getting. How smart she is, how funny. How she must keep you and Joel on your toes – and goddamn, she’s right.

“Joel’s been working on the kitchen,” you continue. “I left my phone in the truck, but you should see it, Mom. He got these marble countertops, these little brushed-gold handles. He wrote our names on the wall before he tiled it, so whoever remodels after we’re gone will find that. The four of us.”

“M-meh-mem-orr-mem-or-ree?” Sarah tilts her head.

Joel nods. “Memory, yeah. Good job, Duck.”

“Duckie’s good,” you tell your mom. “She’s top of her class in – well, everything. Really wiping the floor with all the other first-graders. She’d have been your favorite – I know that much. And you’d have been hers.

“She’s gonna be some kind of lawyer, we think. Social justice and all that. She likes to be a woman of the people. Always talkin’ back to Joel – she hardly cuts him any slack, these days,” you laugh.

“He’s good, too – Joel. Working hard, as usual. Tommy and Maria visited last week – they brought Buckley, and now Duck won’t stop goin’ on about us getting a dog.”

You chance a glance over the stone, making sure the pair are out of earshot when you add, “Don’t tell her, but we called the pound last night. We’re heading there tomorrow while she’s at school to pick one out for her birthday. Joel’s giddier than I think Sarah’s gonna be.”

Joel’s carrying Duck now, wandering down a wobbly row of graves.

She halts him by pointing to one. “N-eh-v-eh-never…fff-or-g-for–”

He stares at her, a grin breaking across his lips. “Sound it out, that’s it. ‘s a big word, baby girl. You got it.”

The world seems to blur around them. The birds sing, a light melody from overhead. The green trees sway across the blue of the sky; the straight soar of cars on the highway. It all fades into the background, behind the two of them – wandering from shade into brilliant sun.

Your family. Your man, your blood – and everything in between. The little girl who brought it all together in the end – leading her dad by hand over knolls and broken stone, chasing butterflies, and asking what eh-teh-err-nal means.

“Means forever,” Joel says, kneeling beside her. “’s how long I’m gonna love you for.”

“And Nel?”

“And Nel.”

“And Mama?”

“And Mama.”

Sarah runs her hands through his beard, swaying side to side. “But me the most,” she concludes, nodding.

Joel hms, biting back a laugh. He lifts his chin, asks the little girl whether or not he’s going gray.

She has the same ridiculous laugh you do. The same snort you used to find so embarrassing, until you heard it come from her.

Just watching them stokes the already burning fire in your ribcage – the warmth flooding around your heart. He’s so good at it – being a dad.

Was he ever anything else, before he was a father? You can’t remember a time you didn’t wake up next to him, wrapped up in his arms, or with one of his kids burrowed between your bodies. It all feels so long ago, now.

He wanted to do everything. He’d lie with you between his legs, holding your half-sleeping form upright while you fed her. He’d race home after work specially to bathe her. He picked up any and every single duck-themed thing that he came across.

And what were you? Mom felt like such a fucking longshot. So out of your reach that you couldn’t understand the meaning of the word.

But there are days when she says it – Sarah, looking up at you with Joel’s twinkling eyes and a smirk which matches yours – and it’s like you’ve been waiting your whole life to hear it. Like you’ve been waiting your whole life for her.

Well. Her, and her little sister.

“And, uh – another thing,” you say, reaching for the plastic handle of a car seat. “I brought somebody for you to meet.”

A clumsy fist shoots up to shake a speckled dinosaur toy – the brown spheres of its eyes catching the sunlight. She squeals with delight when you unbuckle her, kicks her legs the same way her sister always did.

“She’s a little nervous, ain’t you, Nel?” you whisper, laughing at her gummy smile and tiny, socked feet. “She spit up on herself on the way here, but – I think you’re gonna love her.”

You perch the baby on your thigh, same as Joel did with Sarah, and she wraps her fingers around one of yours. You wiggle it – waving to your mom’s name, to the petals gently fluttering in the breeze.

“Mom,” you sniff, “this is Ellie.”

[norrizzandpia]

Heyy, hope you’re having a good day.

Don’t know if your requests are open but I really wanted to ask something. Could you write Oscar with baby fever, but like a lot, to the point that Lando knows about it and makes fun of him, and he is always trying to convince reader that they are ready to have a baby and how he would love to see her pregnant and obviously showing all the time vídeos o cute babies. Then to make it a little longer you could make some embarrassing moment of this baby fever, like Oscar getting flustered (or more lol) when seeing reader with a baby or like zac listening him saying some weird stuff, something like that yk. Then after months she accept. (If you are felling writing a little angst, you could write in the same one or another part, they trying to get pregnant but they can’t and Oscar gets very frustrated and ends up venting with Lando or so and little time later they discovered she is pregnant just to end in a cute way).

If you like the idea and decide to write it, feel free to make any changes you desire, I love your writing and I’m sure you’ll make my idea a thousand time better. Thank you <3

It is CRIMINAL how long it took me to answer this superb request.

Let’s Have A Baby, Baby (OP81)

Summary: There is nothing Oscar wants more than for Y/n to get pregnant with his kid, and everyone knows it.

Warnings: sexual conversations, language, Oscar has no filter at all, an extremely graphic and sexual conversation that has Zak traumatized (pray for him), tooth rotting fluff idk where any of this came from

Note: i didn’t put any angst in this because THIS WAS TOO CUTE TO ADD ANYTHING BAD THIS COUPLE DESERVES EVERY BIT OF HAPPINESS AND MORE WITHOUT ANY COMPLICATIONS I MEAN IT.

How do you tell someone having a child at the ripe age of 22 is not a good idea?

Y/n sat at the end of the bed, watching Oscar pace back and forth as he rambled about how much he wanted to get her pregnant.

“Baby, you’d look so pretty. Please? You know how good the sex would be.” He turned toward her, eyes holding hers as he looked at her with his persuasive doe eyes.

Y/n groaned as her head fell back, “Osc, the sex is already good. Why do we need to add a child to the mix?”

Oscar fell to the floor, kneeling in front of her with his hands resting on her knees as he tilted his head, “Because it’ll be fun! And you could dress them up in little clothes and…” He trailed off, his eyes shifting toward the floor before meeting hers once more, “We’d be a family.”

Y/n’s lip pouted out, emotions running strong in her body as her boyfriend held her hands so tightly, “Oscar,” She rubbed lightly over his cheekbone, “I would love to be a family with you, make a family with you, but I just don’t think I’m ready for that right now. Your career is just taking off and I’ve just barely started to figure out what I want to do with the degree I just earned. It’s not the right time.”

Oscar sighed, head lulling forward and into her lap, “Fine. I guess you’re right.”

Y/n smiled softly and folded forward, planting a kiss into his hair as she scratched at his scalp. “This doesn’t mean I don’t ever want kids, you know?”

He gave a small smile into her lap before looking up at her, “I know. I think I’m just a bit crazed with baby fever right now. You’re right. It’s not a good time to have a whole ass kid now.”

Y/n giggled, “Glad we’re on the same page.”

Oscar stood up, moving to sit beside her on the bed. His arm hooked around her waist, pulling her into him and kissing her hair quickly as he murmured, “I still think you’d look good pregnant. With my kid, to be precise.”

—

“Y/n, are you seeing this?!” Oscar exclaimed as he shoved his phone in his girlfriend’s face. The TikTok he was showing her was of a little girl giggling continuously as, from what Y/n could gather, the child’s father tickled her stomach.

She blushed, “Yes, very cute, baby.”

Oscar rolled his eyes, “Exactly. Baby. I want a baby.”

“Mate…” Lando said with exhaustion, his head lulling back onto the couch he was sprawled out on. The McLaren crew members off to the side, getting coffees from the hospitality center, snickered.

Oscar’s head snapped to his teammate, “What? You’re just jealous you don’t have a girlfriend to have a kid with.”

“Oscar!” Y/n yelled, hitting his arm as a warning while Lando just keeled over in laughter.

His face was red as he got out, “Oscah! Who taught you to talk like that?!”

Oscar just smiled, “You.”

Lando leaned back, gasping for breath as he came down, “Does that mean I can be its uncle?”

Oscar shook his head, “I’m thinking godfather.”

Y/n scoffed, “We are not having a child! Stop dreaming of something that is not going to be happening for a few more years.”

Oscar shot her a quick glance with a grin, “Just wait till I give you a preview of what having a kid could let us do and I’m sure your mind will change.”

Lando’s mouth fell open, “I need to be removed from the country after hearing that come out of your mouth.”

“Oscar, there is something mentally wrong with you.” Y/n hit his arm once more, shooting him a warning look.

He sidled up to her, “Think a baby could fix that?”

Y/n groaned and Lando laughed, “OSCAR!”

—

“Y/n! Oscar! Do you guys think you could watch Mila while Sav, Ollie, and I all go for a walk on the paddock?” Lando asked hesitantly, eyeing Oscar with his niece in his arms.

From the way they were staring at each other, Y/n knew Oscar had put Lando up to this. Nonetheless, she smiled, “Sure!”

Oscar beamed.

Y/n took Mila from Lando’s arms, turning to Oscar as Mila stared after her uncle as he walked away. A shy child, Y/n knew Mila would do well with a bit of childish conversation.

“Mila, who’s your favorite? Uncle Lala or Oscar?” Y/n smiled, pinching Mila’s cheeks to draw a few giggles from the little girl.

Mila squealed, “Uncle Lala!! Lala!”

Y/n’s heart warmed at the way the cute child screaming the sweetest nickname. Oscar looked down at his girlfriend and, in his delusions, their child.

He cocked his head, “You fall into the role quite well.”

His comment went ignored by his girlfriend as she continued poking Mila lightly, laughing along with the young girl as her head fell into Y/n’s chest from the tickling.

Y/n smiled up at him before turning around, wandering off into the McLaren garage with Mila still tucked under her arm. Oscar wished he could take a picture. Save it for later. He loved everything before his eyes.

When he was done getting lost in fairy land, he jogged in the direction his girlfriend had taken. What he found was a sight so dear to his heart. Y/n in conversation with Mark, a sleeping Mila in her arms. Part of the reason why he loved the image so much was how comfortable Y/n looked, how Mila laid against her body so easily and how Y/n swayed as if it was second nature.

He wished she could see what he saw.

Mark nodded at him as he came to stand next to Y/n, pulling her into him by the waist and trying to decipher the topic of conversation. “You’re talking about Otmar leaving Alpine?”

“Yeah, good riddance.” Y/n sighed, hand rubbing up and down Mila’s back.

Oscar squeezed her hip softly, “I want to leave that man in my past.”

Mark rolled his eyes, “Don’t we all.”

“There isn’t any corner of the world he could be that is too far from us.” Oscar murmured, face grimacing at the thought of the horrid man.

Y/n laughed and kissed his shoulder, “It’s okay, Osc. You don’t have to deal with him anymore.”

Mark nodded along, eyes entranced with the picture in front of him. He knew Oscar yearned for kid with Y/n, but it had never looked so real before. The boy he had watched grow up, helped fight for, had all of a sudden grown into a man who pushed for children with his girlfriend. Mark knew Oscar was still young, too young for kids, but it still felt a bit odd to see him as someone’s father. It was sobering to see Oscar, his girlfriend, and a child all at once, in a position that made them look like a family. Truthfully, a part of him felt at peace to know the war was over. Oscar had found a seat, a team that prioritized him, and a person who loved him wholly. There was no need to worry about Oscar anymore. What was he to do now?

“Can I take a picture of you two really quick?” Mark asked, a question so surprising Oscar and Y/n shared a strange look.

“Sure?” Y/n said, not fully understanding the reason behind his request.

Mark moved back an inch, position his camera as Y/n and Oscar smiled. Y/n leaned her head against his shoulder while Mila stayed in her arms, still asleep against her body. He turned his camera around to show the couple what he had just captured and Y/n’s heart squeezed. Oscar almost screamed and ripped his hair out. He wanted what this picture implied so badly. With her.

He kept his composure, “We look cute, no?”

Y/n hesitated, a lingering grin on her face as she stared down at the image. Though, her smile lengthened and she tilted her head, “Can you send that to me?”

—

Oscar was in rare form. From the moment he had woken up, he was making suggestive comments in Y/n’s ear. To put it shortly, he was horny for the woman by his side. When Oscar got like this, he became impulsive and threw caution to the wind. Therefore, Y/n wasn’t surprised when he started rambling to her in the middle of the McLaren garage.

“All I’m saying is that you would look damn good carrying my kid.” He giggled, hand dangerously low on her back.

“Oscar…” She whispered, eyes darting around them in an effort to show him how public he was making their conversation.

He shook his head, “No one can hear what I’m saying. They’re too wrapped up in their work. They don’t know that I’m telling you how good it would feel to fuck you raw.”

She blushed, “Oscar,” She tried once more, though her voice was beginning to lose his edge.

His hand brushed her hair out of the way, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “Do you like that idea? Like the thought of me coming inside of you? Like the thought of everyone knowing you’re mine because you’re carrying my child?”

Her hand brushed up against his abs as she turned to look at him, his eyes boring down into hers. “Oscar, you are working.”

“So? We can go try for one right now, love. Just say the word.”

She tried to hold her composure, “Oscar, you are so bold.”

He kissed her softly, “Yeah? Or am I just attracted to the idea of seeing my cum leak out of you? I’d fuck it back into you with my fingers. Make sure it takes.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but her insides clenched together.

He tried once more, “I can tell you want it. I can feel your skin getting hotter under my hands,” He brushed his fingers against the skin peeking out from her crop top, “I could be feeling you cum around my bare cock too.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but a loud throat clearing stopped her.

Oscar froze, Y/n paled.

The couple turned their heads slowly behind them, Zak side glancing them from his place inches away from them. Oscar opened his mouth to apologize, but Zak put up his hand.

“I never want to talk about this ever again.” He said, his voice so sharp it could cut ice.

Oscar’s hand flew to his mouth, “Zak, I’m so incredibly sorry. That wasn’t meant to be hear-”

Zak shook his head, “Oscar, I don’t care what the hell you do on your free time. Hell! I think it’s endearing how much you want to have kids with your girlfriend. But, I swear to God,” His eyes closed as he took a deep breath, “If I have to hear you talk about doing anything physical with your girlfriend, I will give you a bad car.”

Oscar nodded shortly, “Understood. I’m so sorry.”

Zak grimaced and shivered before giving the couple one last glance. A whisper loud enough for them to hear, “I’m so unsettled.”

Oscar turned back to his girlfriend. The woman so horrified, she refused to look at him.

He tilted his head, “It’s not that bad?”

Y/n snapped her head up at him. Her gaze fiery, it turned Oscar on. “You will never speak to me when we are near Zak, yeah?”

She walked away before he could respond.

“Y/n, that’s insane!” He screamed as he ran after her.

Lando chuckled to himself at the scene. Not knowing what Oscar had said, but inferring from the way Zak stared at a trash can like he was five seconds from vomiting into it.

—

Oscar stared down at Y/n as they laid in bed together, post-sex haze slowly depleting. His hand pushed tangled hair out of her face as he laid small kisses on her face, “I love you,” He whispered.

She smiled softly, “I love you too.”

From the way his eyes softened, Y/n’s being found peace. When she was younger, she had been so convinced she would never find love, never find a man who wanted to love her. Part of her wished she could go back in time and show her 16 year old self a picture of Oscar, detailing the man she would later find. Even though they fought and he got her so annoyed sometimes, he would always live to show her that what she had thought was unrealistic in love, was completely attainable. She had loved romcoms, yearning for that kind of feeling for someone else, but she was always lectured on how impossible that was. Oscar was the living counter argument to that statement. From the way he looked at her to the delicate nature of how he held her hand, she was secure in his love for her. A child was a lot, but a child was also a statement of forever. She wanted forever with Oscar, he did too. She wanted to share something so intimate with him beyond sex and vulnerability.

She wanted a kid with him.

In the silence of the night, she lightly spoke the words, “I think I’m ready for a baby.”

A year later and the sentence finally met his ears. Oscar stared at the wall behind her for a moment before letting his gaze fall to her.

“What?” Is all he could find within himself. The woman and the words of his dreams, finally a reality.

She giggled, “I’m ready to try for kids, Osc.”

His hands flew to cradle her face. He shook her head lightly as tears flooded his vision. His voice broke, “What?”

He couldn’t begin to muster another syllable, the staring was all his body could take. He wanted to memorize the twinkle in her eye as she completed his world. He wanted to think back on this moment and remember the way her hand felt against his rapidly beating heart, the way his hands got lost in her hair, the smell of her faded perfume, and the sincerity in her words.

He kissed her lips, soft and gentle as tears fell from his eyes. When they pulled back, she laughed and wiped the wetness on his cheeks, “Why are you crying, baby?”

His mouth opened and closed before speaking, “Because we’re having a kid… and I’ve found you, found the person I know the rest of my life was meant to be shared with. I think I’m just…” He trailed off, trying to find his words amongst all the things swirling around in his body, “I always knew I would be proud of myself if I got into F1, achieved a seat in the sport. I thought that would be the greatest achievement of my life, the most proud I would’ve ever been of myself. But, that’s not true because, in this moment, I am so much more proud of myself for being worthy enough of you and having a kid with you than getting a seat in Formula 1. I never thought about who I would settle down with, but now that I know it’s you, I can’t believe it was ever something that wasn’t on my mind. You are everything I ever think about. The life awaiting us and whatever tries to ruin our plans, I want it all. You are the beginning and end of my life.”

Y/n’s eyes were teary by the end of his confession, feeling as if she was drowning in the love of the moment.

When they kissed again, it felt more solidifying. Solidifying in that tomorrow, when they were filled with energy again, they would try for a baby. Solidifying that sometime, whether that was five years in the future or next week, a positive pregnancy test would sit brightly on the counter of their bathroom, affirming the forever they already knew was in store.

—

(ONE MONTH LATER)

How do you tell someone they’re 23 and going to be a dad?

Y/n snuck through the McLaren building at the Australian Grand Prix. Lando was in tow behind her as well as Mark and Oscar’s family, all eight of them tiptoeing toward Oscar’s room with large smiles.

Y/n clutched the pregnancy test in her hands, palms sweating heavily moments before she presented Oscar with news that would send him into sobs. No doubt.

“That one,” Lando whispered, pointing toward a black door at the end of the hallway. When they reached it, Y/n turned back.

“Who’s recording?” She asked quietly as Mark smiled and shoved his phone out in front of him.

Y/n giggled, “Screenager,” before sending him a playful glance, her teasing out of love.

With another look to the group, her knuckles rapped on the door.

“One sec!” Oscar’s voice yelled, a few moments passing before he was flinging the door open with a smile. That smile, however, soon fell slightly at the sight of everyone he ever loved standing before him.

“Oh, no. What have I done?” He asked, face dropping as he made eye contact with his beaming mother. “What’s going on?” He asked, slightly confused at the manic faces of his family and closet friend.

“Oscar,” Y/n whispered, his attention drawing to her immediately.

His head cocked to the side, “Baby, what’s going on?”

Y/n smiled, “A baby.”

His confusion grew, “What do you mean ‘a baby’?”

“Oscar…” She said once more, hands shifting in their grasp.

In the tone of her voice, he found happiness.

“No,” He whispered.

Her hands came to rest between their bodies, the pregnancy test on clear display, “Yes,”

A very concerning scream erupted from Oscar before be flung himself into the arms of his girlfriend and, therefore, everyone behind her. There was loud squeals and laughter before Oscar pulled back.

“THERE’S GOING TO BE A BABY?!” He screamed, the volume bouncing off the walls and most likely down to the garage.

Y/n nodded, “OUR BABY!”

Another scream that Lando would have to make fun of Oscar for later. The couple hugged each other tightly, jumping and down in the most giddy way. Truly embarrassing for Oscar, according to Lando, but the Brit also knew how much his friend had pleaded for this.

It was clear in the way he choked back tears; clear in the way he held Y/n; clear in the way he stuffed the pregnancy test into his pocket, mumbling to himself about wanting to put it in a scrapbook for their first child.

Maybe the moment could have been left to just Oscar and Y/n, but, as they all conversed excitedly about nine months in the future, Oscar found everything he ever needed.

Formula 1 was a bonus.

This was his dream.

Y/n and Baby 1 were his drea-

Y/n and Baby 1 were his reality.

[novemberheart]

{Overview} Your pack is gone again. You have to go through an emergency alone

{warnings} fem reader, poly 141 x reader, a/b/o dynamics, chapter story, panic attacks, trouble breathing, some emotional angst, a cute golden retriever

Chapter 34 <- Chapter 35 -> Chapter 36

The leaves were starting to change. The hot dry weather you so hated was beginning to shift as well.

“You play this song too much,” Anais whined, reaching for the phone in your hand. You made no move to stop her, rolling your eyes playfully. It was nearly your stop anyways. A gust of air left the bus as it screeched to a halt, you and Anais shooting up out of your seats. Anais took the earbud out of her ear, passing it back to you. You and Anais worked your way down the street, dodging puddles and people with low self awareness. Jane opened the door for the two of you. “Could’ve texted us you were already here. We waited outside your door for ten minutes,” Anais chided, shedding off her scarf and coat. You followed suit.

“Was like three minutes Anais,” you chuckled, patting Jane on the arm. Jane remained silent, a small quirk in her lips as she disappeared into the back again.

“You heard anything from your pack?” Jane called.

“No,” you sighed, flicking the oven dial on. Your pack had been gone for three weeks. You haven't heard from them since they left. It was the longest you’ve gone without speaking to them. You ran your knuckles over the two marks engraved against your skin, your heart thrumming painfully in your chest. “They’re fine though,” you insisted.

“Course they are,” Jane and Anais said in unison.

“I’m going to get started on the frosting,” Anais spoke. “How about you start planning next week's menu. You’re much more creative than we are,” Anais added. Jane nodded her head in agreement.

Ten minutes before the bakery opened a line started to form. You were thankful you had a busy job to keep your mind off of your pack. Yet it wasn’t completely unavoidable. The smell of cinnamon reminded you of Johnny. The leather chairs reminded you of Simon. Anytime someone came in with a hat on it reminded you of Kyle. The sound of coffee brewing reminded you of John.

The work day was nearly over before you knew it.

“I’ll run and get us some sandwiches from down the street,” Anais offered.

“I’ll go with you. You always forget I hate pickles,” Jane huffed. They turned to look, and you offered them a small smile.

“I’ll finish cleaning up. You two go ahead,” you assured with a wave of your hand.

“If you’re sure,”

“Stay out of trouble please,” Anais nearly begged, making you giggle. Your smile dropped as soon as they left, the numbness returning to your body. Your fingers ran over the marks on your neck again. It had become a habit now. It made you feel something. A reminder that you weren't alone. You belonged to a pack. Even if that pack was halfway across the globe. You couldn't say that with complete confidence. For all you knew they were a few cities over on a mission. That would be a tough pill to swallow. Them being so close yet so far.

You huffed as a familiar fever resettled over your skin. That had also become a habit. You dug in your bag for a bottle of fever reducers. You used to hate pills. Now they are the only thing keeping you feeling semi-normal.

“Fever again?” You jumped at the voice behind you. “Sorry,” he apologized, holding his hand up defensively.

“It’s alright Mr. Avery,” you chuckled. He gave you a slightly worried smile, the back of his hand resting against your forehead.

“My daughter gets fevers when she's upset too,” he sighed. “They can be tiring. If you need extra breaks let me know,” he pressed. Your eyes welled up and before you could stop yourself you wrapped your arms around his soft middle.

“I just miss my pack,” you whined. His hand rested on your back, rubbing soothing circles against your sweater.

“I know, hon,” he sighed sadly. “Can only imagine how much they miss you too,” he added. They better miss you. It wouldn't be fair if you were the only one walking around with a hole in your heart. Mr. Avery rubbed your back til the tears died down, projecting the warm scent of alpha that you so dearly missed. You were lucky he was so understanding.

“Thank you,” you sniffled, working up the courage to pull away. “You should get an award for being the best boss,” you tried to chuckle. His lips quirked.

“As long as you and the girls think I am- that's all I need,” he smiled. ”Lets get some food in you and I’ll drive you girls back to base,” he recommended, already guiding you to one of the plush chairs.

Maybe the smell of leather would do you some good.

Something wasn't right.

Your fever had yet to die down, instead, it spread throughout your whole body. You felt sick, half of your body clinging to the toilet yet nothing could come up. Your vision was spotty, your limbs heavy.

The only thing you could think of was the distance between you and your alphas. That had to be it right? You were going through withdrawals. You trudged your way to Simon's closet, grabbing one of the last items of clothing and holding it to your nose.

It didn't help.

Nothing did.

No amount of scent from your pack was easing the sickness. It was close to early morning now and your eyes had yet to close for more than a second.

You had to get help.

You threw on some scent blockers to cover the smell of sour lemons. You had to be fast. You couldn't be caught wandering around base while it was so dark. You were in no condition to fight back either.

You grabbed Vernie’s leash, attaching it to her collar. You didn't- couldn't go alone. The two of you stayed close to the buildings- for cover and support.

The medical center felt further away than it ever had. Every step felt like a race against the clock. You thought back to your nightmare about Kyle. The feeling of walking yet going nowhere. You had half a mind to scream in frustration.

The lights were blinding, making your already fragile head spin on its axis.

“I need an omega specialist,” you panted. The cold counter felt good against your heated hands. Vernie wormed herself in your grasp, her chilled nose pressing against your cheek in an attempt to comfort you.

“I can take you sweetheart,” a soft woman wearing pink scrubs quickly held your arm. Her chocolate eyes scanned up and down nervously, her eyes connected with the receptionist. They spoke to each other without uttering a word. The receptionist quickly getting on the phone. “How long have you been sick, baby?” the nurse asked, leading you down the hall.

“Since my pack left,” you wheezed. Tears were already rolling down your cheek. “It’s really bad tonight,” you explained, using your fists to wipe away the tears Vernie didn't lick away.

“I can tell, baby. I can tell,” she soothed. She led you to a small room, guiding you to an examining chair. “How about I stay with you till the doctor gets here?”

“Please,” you begged.

“How long has your pack been away?” she questioned, pressing a cold towel against your forehead. It just reminded you of Simon, your sobs increasing in volume and intensity.

“I want my pack,” you sobbed, gasping for a breath. You couldn't breathe. No matter how hard you tried it was like the air couldn't reach your lungs.

“Easy,” she tried to soothe. It didn't work. You didn't know her. You needed your pack.

“I want my pack,” you repeated. It was barely a whisper, your words getting caught on a gasp.

You couldn't breathe.

“Breathe for me, sweetheart. Your pack wouldn't want anything to happen to you would they?” she continued, her hands resting on your shoulders.

If they didn't want anything to happen to you they would be back by now. They would've called. They would've had Laswell reach out to you. Something. Anything.

Maybe if you passed out that would get their attention. They would have to notify your alphas right? Just the thought made it easier to breathe- unfortunately. It would've been easier to sleep through everything. Wake up to your alphas and betas fussing over you.

Your lungs accepted the newfound air greedily.

“That’s it,” the nurse smiled softly. Her fingers brushed the wet hair out of your face and she guided you back against the seat. You held Vernie to your chest, her heart rate nearly as fast as yours.

A loud knock echoed throughout the room, the door slowly opening to reveal a doctor. He was a tall, slender man. You were only supposed to have female doctors. His eyes softened when they saw you.

“Hello, my name is Dr. Harrelson. I know in your file it says your alphas requested that you have female doctors, but I'm the only omega specialist on duty this morning,” his voice was soft with a beautiful lilt in it. “How do you feel about that?” he asked softly. You didn't care anymore. It wasn't like your pack really cared either. If they did, they would’ve tried to reach out to you.

“I’m fine with that,” you panted.

“Alright then. Let’s figure out what's going on with you, pup.”

You expected the nickname to throw you back into a spiral, yet, your breathing just steadied further.

Should be your alpha speaking those words to you.

Your stomach turned in bitterness.

“Her pack has been gone. Withdrawals, maybe?” the nurse offered. You were thankful for that, breathing being the priority for you. The doctor nodded his head in agreement, his brows furrowing as he looked you over.

“When did your symptoms start to become extreme?” he asked.

“The past few hours,” you explained.

“Can you describe them to me? Your symptoms.”

“Fever- I get those often though, sweating, heaviness in my body, nausea, dizziness, my heart won't slow down,” you rattled.

“Nausea and rapid heartbeats?” he questioned. He stood on his feet, resting his stethoscope in the center of your chest. “Those aren't usual symptoms of pack withdrawals,” he said slowly. “You are beating quite fast. It‘s been like this for how long?”

“The past hour,” you breathed.

“Have you started any new medication lately?”

“Camilcotazine,” you responded. He shook his head again.

“That wouldn't cause this,” he sighed. “Have you had any injections, piercings, or trackers placed into you recently,”

“I have a tracker but it’s been months since that's been put in,” you explained.

“Well, I'd like to run some tests. I think you may have something in your bloodstream. Maybe you accidently got poked by a rusty nail or something. Are you okay with that?” he asked.

Could you say no?

The initial fear had worn off.

Now you were just fatigued and irate. You didn't bother to ask if anyone was contacting your pack.

Would they even be able to get in touch with them?

If they were, what would your pack do?

Would they send someone back to be with you?

Even in your anger you believed they would.

You could imagine Johnny getting on a helicopter now, a mean snarl on his face at the thought of you going through this alone. You could smell the saltiness that would flow from Kyle at the state of you.

You didn't even want to think about your alphas.

You had more faith in your betas coming to your aid than your alphas.

The thought burned you further.

There was a knock on the door.

“Alright,” Dr. Harrelson sighed. He sat on his stool rolling closer to you. “Are you aware of a tracking device in your leg?”

The room went silent.

Dr. Harrelson’s face scrunched at your reaction.

“It’s very old. My guess would be about 7 to 9 years,” he continued. Not that you could hear him clearly. Your heart thrummed in your ears, your hospital gown clinging to you from how much you were sweating.

“I didn't know,” you replied shakily.

“Well it's an absorbable one- meaning after a few years it should've dissolved into your bloodstream. Yours hasn't. Your body is rejecting it,” he explained, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “We’ll need to remove it immediately. It'll be a small incision, one that likely won't even leave a scar. You won't even need to be put under, just some light anesthetic,”

“That's fine,” you responded immediately. You needed it out. Physically and mentally. You weren't in the corrected headspace to even think about who would do such a thing.

“Let's get started then.”

Hi friends! 👋Hope you enjoyed this next chapter and the first Chapter of section 2!!!! Lots of love and I’ll see you in three days for chapter 36! That's crazy!!!🧡

SERIES MASTERLIST

[adams-angels]

Plssssass pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls do a adam x reader smut where adam is in heat or anything plssssssss

I had WAAAAY too much fun writing this one 🤭 I was originally gonna do another angel s/o but where's the fun in that? I spiced this up with a sinner s/o

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

Heat

Smut below the cut! Minors dni

Extermination day. Once again. Yaaay! You hid in your apartment and waited. You knew he was coming. He was always coming.

You don't know why, but a couple years ago you were spared by Adam. Ever since then he always comes to check on you. Makes sure you're still alive. He says it's because it's funny watching you get pissed off at every little thing. Every little thing being his annoying ass.

You hear the knock at the door. It's the secret knock Adam made up so you'd know it was him. But this knock was rushed. Desperate almost. It sent a cold chill down your spine. It's not that you like Adam. You just don't want anything to happen to him and would be sad if he stops visiting but you don't LIKE him.

You quickly rush to the door, checking the peephole and there he was. Looking different? You unlocked the many bolts on your apartment door and let him in. He pushed himself past you, "what's up sinner tits?" Dumb name. You shut your door and lock it back up. "Hello, Adam." You look over at him and he looks restless. "You okay?" You ask, cocking an eyebrow in curiosity. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm fine, whatever." He scratched his arm like he was a drug addict. Itching for his next hit.

Your mind raced. What if the exorcists know he's been visiting me? What if he has to kill me? What if- you're snapped out of your thoughts. "Stop overthinking. You do that too much." He groaned. "Okay?" You walk over to him, his body tenses. "Why are you acting weird?" His eyes widen, he takes a couple steps back. "M-me? Weird?! Ha! That's- that's fucking rich coming from you!"

Okay, something up. That stutter screamed something was up. You put your hands on your waist stepping closer to him, causing him to step back. You ended up cornering him once he was stopped by the wall. "what the hell is up with you, Adam. Tell me, right now!"

"I need you." He whined. You don't know if it was the fact he had no where else to go, or you were being quite demanding but you weren't expecting him to whine like that. But God, did it make you feel powerful. This devine being, whining like a whore. "Excuse me?"

"fuck, I need you, y/n. Please?" He pleaded. "Jesus, it's like you're a fucking heat." You joked but his whimper told you everything. "Noooo, fucking way. Do you- are you in heat?" You laugh at him. "Don't fucking laugh!" He grabs your wrist and spins you around, pinning you to the wall.

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

"I need to fuck you. I don't want to. But I need to. I can't stop thinking about you. No one else is working, so please." He begged, never in your afterlife did you think you'd see Adam begging for you. But here you are. In your apartment, Adam pleading with you. "I'll do it." He lit up. "On one condition." He groaned his forehead resting on yours. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you want, babe."

You look him in his LED eyes, "mask off." He hesitated, removing his head from yours to get a full look at your expression. "What? Why?" He asked, his tone would tell you he was annoyed by the request but inside he was scared. What if you changed your mind once you saw his actual face. "Because I like to look at the person who's going to fuck me." He whines, he's desperate right now, he needs you. He reaches for his mask, hesitates before taking it off.

He looked gorgeous, stunning, and surprisingly embarrassed. "You so-" he couldn't wait any longer, his lips crashed into yours, his tongue explored your mouth. There was no negotiation on who was dominating the situation.

His hands caressed your body starting at your neck tracing down to your waist before getting to your legs, he lifts you up with ease. Sloppily kissing you, as he takes you to the nearest surface, your side table. Sitting you on top of it, knocking off a couple of books, a small plant and a picture frame among other things.

He releases your lips to move on to your jawline then neck, covering you in marks. His marks. You can't help but moan at the sensation. His hands head straight to your pants, gaining access to your intimate area. Once your pants are off he whips off his robe and lifts you up from the side table. Lining up with your entrance. His eyes full of lust for you. He watched your face as he slid you onto his cock. It was perfect, dickmaster is right. It was like he cock was made to fit you. He didn't give much time for you to enjoy the fit before he started thrusting into you.

His arms wrapped around your back holding you close to his body. His teeth sinked into your neck, he moaned into your skin. Your hands found their way to the back and top of his head, tugging at his brown locks. His wings burst out, twitching and trembling as he buries his cock deep inside you. Filling you fully with his member, hitting that sweet spot with each thrust. "Fuck.. so good y/n" he mumbles into your neck. "So tight.."

His hips stuttered, he released your neck and went back to your lips, feeling you moan into his mouth sent him over the edge as he finished inside of you. His wings fell to the floor and you both crashed into the sideboard, Adam leaning on you for support. "Fuck.. bitch, who knew you'd feel so good." "Who knew you liked dirty sinners." You panted. "Don't spoil it."

[jezabelle9299]

Make-up Birthday S.R x FEM! Reader

Overture: Spencer didn't just miss your birthday he forgot it. (Happy Ending)

C-Ws: Missed occasions, pushing down feelings for the benefit of another person, Spencer chose Gideon over you

A/N- Baby's first angst, go easy on me. And I've been in a sour mood so I have 2 other angst fics (also birthday themed), that will probably be posted sometime this week. Our regularly scheduled sap will return next week.

You weren’t a very big birthday person. Of course when you were young you had birthday parties with all of your little friends, but as time went on, things got busy. It was pushed to the side for years, until you preferred to just ignore it. Until a few weeks ago, when Spencer asked what you’d like to do to celebrate. You told him nothing was necessary, but he insisted that the two of you at least spend the day together. You let yourself get excited, you made good plans, just takeout and movie night, but that was enough. If it were anyone else you’d remind him, several times, but you knew he wouldn’t forget. He didn’t forget anything.

This morning you woke up to an empty bed, and you knew Spencer had gone to work. He had a few meetings he mentioned having to go to about their latest cases, but you weren't expecting him until this evening. The day passed you by when you got set up, but time slowed down when there was nothing to do but wait. Each second passed a little slower than the last, until you got worried. You haven't heard from Spencer all day. 

You: Hey Spence, everything ok?

Spence: I’m ok, just got caught up at work. I’ll come to your place as soon as I can. 

You: Ok, see you then

You were glad he was ok, and you knew he’d rather be with you, than at work. Something important must’ve come up, he wouldn’t miss this over nothing. But time passed with no more texts, until you resigned yourself to him just not coming. You changed from your date outfit into some comfy pajamas, and laid down in bed. You weren’t upset with Spencer, this job was important to him, and you knew he felt like he had something to prove just being there. You could celebrate another day.

It wasn't until well after nine when Gideon asked Spencer what he was still doing here, he’d mentioned weeks ago that he’d need to leave early. That’s when Spencer realized what he was missing. It wasn’t just movie night, by now he’d missed almost your entire birthday, after he’d pressed you to celebrate it at all. He rushed out as quickly as possible, but by the time he got to your place it was too late. He knocked on the door and as soon as you answered, all the apologies came pouring out. He couldn’t make himself stop until you put your hands on either side of his face making him look you in the eyes. 

“It’s ok Spence, I know how important your job is, and we can celebrate another day.”  

He leaned down to hug you, burying his face in your neck. “I’m so sorry honey, it totally slipped my mind. But I promise to make it up to you.” You pulled away from him at that. 

“Wait, what do you mean?” He just looked at you, like he was replaying what he said to figure out what he did wrong. 

“You–you forgot?” 

“I thought you knew.”

“No, I didn’t. I had this picture in my mind, like when you leave for cases, when you tell me how you wish you could be here.”

“I do wish I was here, baby. You mean the world to me.” You couldn’t keep doing this, his reassurance was breaking you down bit by bit. Sure now he wished he was there, but he didn’t even realize you were missing him. 

“I’m gonna go for a drive I think, we don’t have to celebrate another day, it’s fine.” 

“No please stay– please let me make this up to you.” His phone rang. A shrill tone cutting through, nearly making you wince.

“It’s Gideon, I have to take this. But please stay with me, I want to talk about this. It’ll only take a minute.” 

“It’s fine, I’ll talk to you tomorrow Spence, just remember to lock up when you leave ok?” You picked up your shoes and keys before you walked out, still in your pajamas. You gave him not even half of a smile, and it was breaking his heart. But he couldn’t ignore the call.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

Gideon was like a father to him, and even though he winced when the door shut behind you, quietly, as if you weren’t even upset, he still answered. There wasn’t even a case, Gideon just had a question about some evidence. Nothing would’ve happened if he didn’t answer, no one was dying, and the only one hurt was you. He couldn’t have just ignored the call, and now you were gone. 

Spencer didn’t forget anything, but somehow he forgot this. 

You weren't sure where you’d go. You decided to allow yourself one evening to be upset. To acknowledge that this whole situation sucks and honestly today your usually wonderful boyfriend kind of sucks too. You’ll feel guilty about it tomorrow, but tonight you're going to drive an hour and a half down the highway, just to turn back around so you could avoid the drunk drivers on the road when the bars close. Spencer should be gone by then, you’re sure Gideon was calling to steal your boyfriend away on a case again and you’d call him in the morning to make sure he got there ok and tell him to be safe like you always did. 

What Spencer did was important, and you couldn’t be mad at him for missing something as silly as a birthday for a work problem. But he wasn’t out saving lives like you thought. It may be selfish or overly-presumptuous about your standing in his life, but when you missed him it made you feel better to think he was missing you just as much. How he was at work thinking about how he loved you. And today was the day that illusion shattered.

You could only sob at the thought. 

By the time you got home, it was almost 1am. The redness in your eyes finally started to subside, you got too dehydrated to continue actually crying almost an hour ago, so that’s when you decided that the time for being upset over this was done. Even the puffiness in your face was going down. But when you unlocked the door, Spencer was waiting for you. 

“You’re home.” 

“You’re here. I thought you had a case.” 

“No, Gideon just had a question about some evidence, I wanted to be here when you got back.” 

“That’s sweet of you Spencer, but I just went for a quick drive. I’m kind of tired, so I think I’m just going to head to bed now, ok? But I’ll see you in the morning.” You gave him a resigned kiss on the forehead and his heart broke. He did this. And you called him Spencer, not ‘Spence’, not ‘honey’, not ‘babe’. Spencer. It never sounded so awful. 

He did all he could do, he slept on the couch and let you rest. You would be talking about this in the morning. You couldn’t shut him out forever, he loved you too much.  

The beeping of the coffee machine woke him up, his legs half hanging off your couch. He immediately got up. If the coffee machine was going off, you were awake, and you could talk about last night. 

“Honey?”

“Hi, I didn’t realize you’d stayed here last night, were you too tired to drive?”

“No, but I wanted to be here when you woke up.”

“You could've slept in my bed with me.” You were glad he didn’t. But you wanted to maintain your facade, you wanted to forgive him, and forget about everything.

“You’re upset with me, I wanted to talk to you.”

“I’m not upset.”

“You’re the love of my life and I hurt you. You don’t have to pretend to be ok with it.”

“It was one day, Spencer. It’s fine, you don’t have to sleep on the couch as penance.” You were putting on your coolest presence, but everything you said still came out as more of a mumble than it would’ve. 

“I need you to listen to me, you are the most important person in my life. I love you so much it hurts, and I can’t stand the thought of you thinking I forgot about you.” That broke your barely held together exterior of confidence.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I need you to know that I love you, I can’t just let this go.”

“Ok fine. You made me celebrate my birthday and when you forgot anyway, it hurt my feelings. But I don’t want a makeup birthday, and I wish I could just forget about it, and I don’t understand why you want me to be mad at you.”

“I don’t want you to be mad, but when you are mad, I need you to tell me. I can’t do anything to help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“But I don’t want you to know when I’m upset. I want to be the cool girlfriend that doesn’t get upset when her boyfriend does something by accident. You are the best boyfriend I’ve ever had and when you make one mistake about something I wouldn’t have even cared about a month ago, I can’t get over it. But I really want to get over it, so could we please just forget about it?” By this point tears were flowing down your face, but you were still wiping your face every few seconds to stop them in their tracks.

“No we can’t just forget, I think you’re the coolest girl I’ve ever met, and it’s not because you ignore your feelings whenever you think they’d be inconvenient. I want to spend the day with you if you’d be ok with it, but if you want some time alone that’s ok too.”

“I want to spend the day with you. But could we leave out the birthday theme?”

“Sure honey, whatever you want, I’m all yours.”

“You know I love you Spence, right?”

“I know, I love you too.” It was an upsetting morning, but he was still overjoyed that you called him ‘Spence’ again. He’d earned his pet name back.

“Do you really think I’m cool?” It was barely spoken into his chest, moreso whined, muffled by the fabric of his sweater vest. At this moment, you were so uncool. Yet he still kissed your forehead as he laughed. 

“The coolest.”

[pnghoon]

daddy's in a tutu !!

(🩰) ── 𝓟ARK JONGSEONG [제이] ⁞ ㅤㅤ𝓰. fluff, humor, married auㅤㅤ୨୧ㅤㅤ warnings : est. relationship, not proofread, pet-namesㅤ⟡ㅤ!nonidol hubby !jay 𝔁 wife !reader ᯓ ꒰ wc : 1.3k꒱ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsynopsis .ᐟ in which you come back home to the sight of your husband in a pretty pink tutu (•̪ o •̪) ── 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ᡣ𐭩

juno's note ─ "unfortunately I can imagine him in a tutu if our daughter asked him too" is so jay coded. you will never not catch me yapping about husband jay..bc why is that man so hubby material. if you enjoyed reading this, please be sure to like & reblog !! ♡

the snow was falling heavily outside, blanketing the world in a soft, white layer. inside your cozy home, you were busy getting ready for a day of much-needed errands.

bustling around the house, you pulled on your warmest winter coat and bundled up, ready to brave the icy roads.

before you left, you turned to your husband, jay, and your four year old daughter, yubin, who was sitting on the couch, hugging her favorite pink stuffed bunny.

you stared at your daughter's crestfallen face as she cuddled up beside jay. It was the inevitable that the four year old would be upset right now. due to the icy roads and heavy snow, today's ballet class was canceled, leaving yubin devastated.

“are you sure you'll be okay?” you asked, fixing the scarf around your neck and grabbing your purse.

jay looked up from the couch, where he was busy trying to cheer up yubin, her eyes still a bit puffy from the earlier tears and her nose resembling rudolph.

“we'll be fine,” he reassured with a smile, “right, princess?”

yubin nodded half-heartedly, a cute pout still present on her face as she clutched her bunny.

“you guys call me if you need anything,” you reminded them, pressing a kiss to jay's cheek and ruffling yubin's hair. “i'll be back soon.”

and with one last look at your two favorite people, you braved the snowy outdoors. the cold air nipped at your cheeks, but the promise of hot cocoa and a warm house kept you going.

you made your way to the car, shaking your head with a smile at how cute they looked together. little did you know, an adventure was unfolding inside.

jay and yubin huddled together in the living room, surrounded by the warmth of the heater and the faint sound of delicate snowflakes hitting the window.

yubin wore her little ballet outfit, a mini bun perched on the crown of her head as she practiced her pirouettes.

jay on the other hand, was trying his best to keep up with her, although his ballet skills were definitely less refined.

“okay binnie, let’s try that spin again,” jay said, puffing slightly. “i think i’ve got it now.”

yubin giggled, her cheeks flushed with excitement as he watched her dad try to catch his breath from just a couple twirls.

“daddy, you’re doing great! but…”

“but what, sweetheart?” jay asked, glancing down at her with a raised brow.

“i think you need a tutu too!”

jay blinked. he hadn't anticipated that request. “a tu..tu? i don’t know if that’s a good idea honey...”

“pleeease, daddy?” yubin begged, giving him her best puppy eyes. “it’ll be so much fun!”

jay stared at his daughter for a moment, his heart swelling in his chest at the sight of her big round eyes staring up at him.

after a moment of thought, jay reluctantly sighed, giving in to her adorable plea. “alright, alright. if it’ll make you happy, i’ll wear a tutu.”

and with that, jay found himself sporting a frilly tutu that barely fit his hips, his face turning an adorable shade of pink to match the tutu. yubin clapped her hands in delight, twirling around in her own tutu.

“we're matching now daddy!” yubin cheered, jumping around in her ballet slippers.

jay laughed, looking down at the slight new change of wardrobe. it was definitely a combo to say the least, never in his life would he expect sweats to look so good with a tutu.

“isn't that right binnie?” he commented, extending his hand for yubin to take. “now, let's get back to those grand jeté's we were working on earlier eh?”

yubin squealed, immediately accepting his requests with the grasp of her tiny fingers and a wide smile plastered on her face.

“yes please!”

as they continued their ballet practice, the living room had turned into a makeshift stage for the two, with yubin and jay performing a whimsical ballet routine, the sweet melodies of the nutcracker adding the perfect touch to their chaotic performance.

“okay, let’s see your best grand jeté!” yubin called out, her tiny arms reaching out dramatically.

jay attempted a grand jeté, but ended up looking more like an enthusiastic baby goose learning to fly, his arms flailing in the air.

yubin giggled uncontrollably, trying to mimic her dad's moves with even more dramatizing flair.

they pranced around the living room for what seemed like hours, their tutus fluttering in sync with every twirl and leap. for jay’s sake, they would take periodic breaks throughout the practice.

during these breaks, yubin would watch in amusement as her dad rested his hands on his waist, desperately trying to regain his composure. let’s just say, it was like watching a wind-up toy wind down.

after what felt like ages, you were finally heading home. sure, the sweet jingle of christmas music and the warm smell of cinnamon from each errand stop were enduring, but what you were really looking forward to was being wrapped up in a warm, cozy blanket with the two people you love most.

as you pulled into the driveway, the house looked picture perfect against the snowy backdrop. you carried your bags inside, balancing them as you nudged the door open with your hip.

“i'm back!” you called out, kicking off your snowy boots and setting the bags down in the kitchen. “i got all the goodies!”

no response. now you were curious.

you walked further into the house slowly, following the sound of familiar classical music you knew all too well. peeking around the corner, you stopped in your tracks, eyes wide and mouth agape.

there, in the middle of the living room was your husband, in a bright pink tutu that barely fit his athletic build. matching his outfit was your daughter, her own tutu flaring out as she twirled around, her giggles a melody of their own. they were completely in the zone, unaware of your presence.

If you were being frank, the scene was too precious to interrupt. jay was trying to execute an arabesque, but his balance was off, making yubin laugh even more.

“come on, daddy! like this!” she demonstrated with the grace only a child could have, and jay tried again, a bit more successfully this time.

you couldn’t hold back your laughter any longer, and jay’s head practically spun at the sound, his face turning even redder from embarrassment.

“oh- hey honey! um, well, yubin wanted to practice ballet–” he explained, his voice trailing off at the end.

“don't stop on my account,” you teased, revealing yourself from behind the wall as you took in the scene before you in all it’s glory.

yubin ran over to you, her eyes shimmering with excitement.

“mommy, look! daddy's my ballet partner!”

you couldn't help but chuckle, kneeling down to hug your daughter. “i can see that," you commented through giggles, your gaze flickering towards your husband for a moment. “and I must say.. he's doing a pretty fantastic job.”

“why thank you.” jay answered. he tried to pull off a graceful bow, but from the energy he had just exerted to his recent performance with his daughter, he stumbled a bit.

you couldn't stop laughing, tears forming in your eyes. “oh, jay, you're a sight.”

jay grinned, walking over to join you and there daughter. “anything for our little princess. plus, i think i’ve found a new appreciation for tutus.”

later that evening, after yubin was tucked into bed, you and jay found yourselves cuddled on the couch, the soft glow of the christmas tree lights casting a warm glow to the room.

“you really made her day today, y'know,” you murmured, resting your head on jay's chest.

“well, that's what dads are for, right?” he replied, his fingers playing with a strand of your hair.

“i think you might have missed your calling as a ballet dancer,” you teased, nudging his side with your elbow.

jay laughed, pulling you closer. “i'll stick to my day job, thanks. but for yubin, i'd wear a tutu any day.”

you smiled, feeling the warmth of his love envelop you. “and that's exactly why you’re so amazing.”

𝓢igning off... @pnghoon

── 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 [OPEN 🗯] @onlyhees @amouriu @greentulip @enhluv1 @samiikeu @hoonwhile @dearrwoni @won4kiss @jakesangel

[babyleostuff]

their s/o having a nightmare | hip hop unit

𐙚 seungcheol

cheol is a heavy sleeper, an earthquake could be happening and he’d sleep through it, BUT when it comes to you, it’s like he has a sixth sense that notices any shifts in your mood, even if he’s asleep. and knowing him, cheol would be worried sick seeing you so distraught, as your eyes looked frantically around the room, while you tried to reach for him in a frenzy.

something about you being scared and frightened in your sleep, in your most vulnerable state, made his heart ache so badly. his panicked state matching yours wouldn’t help a lot in calming you down, but the weight of his arms around your waist and his lips repeatedly pecking your forehead would be a whole another story. 

“s okay, you’re okay baby,” your boyfriend whispered, kissing the top of your head, as he tightened his arms that were wrapped around your waist. you thought you were quiet enough not to wake him, but it seemed that muffling your sobs with the sleeve of his hoodie you were wearing, letting the tears run slowly down your cheeks wasn’t enough to deceive cheol’s protectiveness, even in his sleep. 

“sorry for waking you up,” you murmured, your voice muffled by your hiccups and his shirt, as he cradled your head to his chest. he hushed you immediately, pecking your forehead repeatedly. “do you want to talk about it? need me to get you some water? should i get you an extra blanket? want me to turn on the lights?” he asked, his breath tickling your cheek, as he swayed you back and forth. kkuma, almost as if she could sense something was wrong, yawned and stretched, padding over to where you were sitting in her dad’s arms. 

at some point you had to start calming him down. his worried pout was endearing, but you didn’t want to keep cheol up all night, and you knew there was no way he’d go back to sleep in this state, especially because you were still shaken up by your bad dream.  

“i just want to make sure you’re okay,” he said, running his hand over your back. “just hold me like this, please?” there was no safer place for you than seungcheol’s arms, and not even a nightmare could change that.     

𐙚 wonwoo

wonwoo would wake up while you’d try to sneak out of the bed (he’s not as cuddly in his sleep as cheol or gyu are, but he always has an arm draped over your waist or tummy, so of course he’d immediately notice if you’d try to wiggle your way out of his grip). usually he’d just go back to sleep, thinking you were going to the bathroom or to get a glass of water, but you’d be shaking too much for it to be normal. wonwoo would reach for you, pulling you back to his chest, cradling the back of your head with his hand.

i believe wonwoo would be even more worried than cheol, he’d never show it as much as him, but his heart would break as he’d hold your shaking body in his arms. (i don’t know if you’ve seen that tik tok where he checks up on seungkwan after he hit him on accident or something, AND OMG THE BOBA EYES AND WORRY ON HIS FACE EIUFHEUIRFHE).  

“here, put your hand over my heart,” wonwoo gently grabbed your shaking hand, and placed it on his chest, right over his heart. “you see, that was just a bad dream, honey,” he whispered, his voice deep and soothing, still laced with sleep. “everything’s okay.”   

you nodded, resting your head in the crook of wonwoo’s neck, as you tried to match your erratic breathing with his heartbeat, while he kept petting the back of your head with one hand, and rubbing soothing circles into your hip with the other. surrounded by his arms and familiar warmth, you snuggled further into his embrace, inhaling his comforting scent that always felt like home. 

“what if i read a bit to you?” wonwoo pressed a kiss to your temple, smoothing out your bed-hair. 

“no, won, you have work tomorrow morning,” you whispered, your face still hidden in his neck. “you should go to sleep.” 

without saying anything, wonwoo placed you between his legs, as he fixed the pillows behind him, so he could rest comfortably against the headboard, and grabbed the book he was currently reading from the nightstand. “do you need an extra blanket? or maybe you want me to make you some tea?” 

you smiled, grabbing his hand that was resting against your tummy, and run your thumb over his knuckles - the same ones that were ready to fight with whatever made you so scared in your dream. “no, wonwoo, everything is perfect,” you whispered. “thank you.”

“of course,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

𐙚 mingyu  

gyu can’t physically sleep without you, you’re wrapped securely in his arms through the whole night, whether you like it or not, so he’d immediately know that something was wrong. at first, he’d be a bit confused, sleep still clouding his mind, why he couldn’t feel your body weight on his, and he’d try to reach for you pouting angrily, because how dare you to move away from him.

when he’d find you shaking and struggling to catch your breath, mingyu would be up and alert in an instant, ready to fight whoever and whatever made you so distressed. and mingyu would try to act as composed as he could, even though he’d be a worried mess on the inside. 

“baby,” you heard your boyfriend whine behind you, probably from the lack of your warmth next to him. “where ‘r you,” he sighed, lifting his head up, just to drop it onto his pillow a second later. “come back.” 

you exhaled slowly, trying to calm your breathing, because you knew mingyu - no matter how tired he was, he’d immediately notice that something was wrong. he just came back home from tour and needed a full night of sleep, you couldn’t make him worry. “i’m right here, love. go back to sleep,” you tried your best to sound as normal as you could, and hoped mingyu would be too tired to notice how your voice shook. 

“no,” he murmured, his voice muffled by his pillow. “come back here,” he reached out and made grabby hands at you with his eyes still closed. if you weren’t so shaken up because of your dream, you’d take a photo of him (which would probably become your new wallpaper), and smother his puffy cheeks in kisses. “wait a second,” he said, finally opening his eyes, sensing that something was wrong, when you didn’t snuggle back against him. 

a couple of minutes later you were all wrapped up in at least three blankets (to protect you from the monsters, mingyu’s words) and your boyfriend’s arms that securely held you against his chest. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you,” he mumbled, bumping his nose against yours. “you’re safe now, my baby.” 

𐙚 vernon 

when he sleeps, he sleeps like a log (vernon needs his beauty sleep), so you’d be a bit hesitant to wake him up. you knew he rarely got a full eight hours of sleep, so you didn’t want to disturb him just because of your nightmare, but at the same time you needed some comfort. you’d cuddle up to him, throwing one of your arms over his tummy, which would wake him up a bit, alarmed by the weight on his body (it wasn’t often that you cuddled while sleeping, so his sleep clouded mind noticed something was wrong).

thanks to him being so relaxed and composed, vernon would be excellent at calming you down, plus he always gets a bit clingier when seeing you so upset, so you’d fall asleep again in no time.

“ratatouille is so much better than cars, though,” vernon whispered, his lips tickling your temple, as he placed occasional pecks there. “i could watch that movie over and over again and never get bored of it.”

you giggled quietly as you listened to your boyfriend rant about something he definitely shouldn’t be talking about in the middle of the night on a random wednesday. it was all of you fault, and although vernon was quick to shut your apologies down, you still fell bad for waking him up when you knew he needed to sleep. plus, you were a bit embarrassed by the whole situation.

“nightmares suck, and there is no shame in feeling scared. i’m happy you woke me up,” he said, holding your head in his hands, so you wouldn’t escape his gaze. 

vernon knew exactly how to calm you down, he noticed early in your relationship how you became putty in his arms whenever he talked about movies. it wasn’t your fault he looked so adorable ranting about something he loved os much. rubbing your cheeks to get the dried tears off of them, you snuggled further into your boyfriend’s side, waiting for what unpopular opinion he’d state next.

“are you sure you’re okay, babe? you don’t need me to grab a glass of water for you or anything?” 

“i’m okay, seriously. just… just keep talking.” 

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @dkswife @marisblogg @whatsgyud @aaniag @jeonghansshitester @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @soul-is-a-strange-kid @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @f4iryjjosh @isabellah29 @hafsah-ali @mrswonwooo @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @chillseo @bangantokchy @hrts4hanniehae @haecien

[cloudcountry]

I just discovered your writing and I love how you write Idia! If requests are open, could you write Idia with an S/O that cooks for him? It's heavily implied that Idia has depression and is very thin do to his lack of self care and malnutrition, but since he started dating he gains some weight and gets a bit insecure about it but reader comforts him because they're just happy that's he's eating healthy

SUMMARY: idia is starting to eat healthier and put on weight, which spawns new insecurities. you help him through it.

COMMENTS: i'm so unhinged about this request please. PLEASE. do not look at me right now im in SHAMBLES. you've saved my life with his request. IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT IT FOREVER I WROTE THIS IN LIKE 45 MINUTES IM LOSING IT. THIS BAD BOY CAN FIT SO MUCH NON SEXUAL INTIMACY IN IT. CRYING.

In the beginning of your relationship, getting Idia to eat and drink was like pulling teeth. You didn’t want to force it—Idia knew how he felt far better than you, and making him do something he didn’t want to was just cruel. You knew from the start that if he didn’t want to eat, he wouldn’t, and even after consulting Ortho you didn’t notice any changes in his attitude towards eating. You reminded him to drink water constantly and brought him little snacks, but the water bottles remained mostly full and the snacks were unopened. While you managed to coax another few sips of water out of Idia, the snacks were still a no-go and his vitamin drinks won the day once again.

It took until the two of you were second years for him to consider eating more, and you were so delighted that you began to cook for him. Although he still gained most of his nutrients from those vitamin drinks he’d always drink in place of meals, you were so proud of him when he started eating the small portions you’d set out for him. Each container had four sections, one full of dried fruits, one with nuts, one with vegetables, and the last with meat. You always wrote him a note telling him how proud of him you were, encouraging him to eat the whole thing but letting him know he could stop eating whenever. It was more of a snack than anything, but he’d eaten it, the whole thing, and you felt so moved you’d almost cried.

Idia never thought it was that much a deal, even when you started gradually increasing his portion sizes into your third year at NRC, always replying to your praise with bashful mumbles and scoffs, twisting his beautiful hair into knots as a nervous habit. He would finish his snacks and bashfully ask for more, turning his pink cheeks away from you when you’d beam and tell him you’d be on it right away. Noodle dishes were popular, along with sweet chicken recipes, and anything with rice or pasta. You avoided using meats like pork or beef or anything that wasn’t light like poultry. Idia always favored things that went down easy, not hearty meals that left you feeling stuffed (and, of course, you never fed him sushi due to his dislike of raw fish.)

He was drinking more water as the years went on, too—by the time you came to collect his dishes and figure out if he wanted more food or not, you’d catch a glance of a half empty water bottle and feel your heart fluttering in your chest. It made you so happy to see him eating and drinking healthier. Even if he complained about needing to go pee more often (which took out of his gaming time, oh the dramatics) you could tell he felt better. It had been a journey of three years but you and him were making some serious progress together, and you couldn’t be more proud.

To celebrate just how proud of him you were, you’d gotten Idia a small chocolate cake to go with his lunch, and you were delivering it a bit early to surprise him.

Balancing all of the food on one hand, you bounce on the balls of your feet as you punch in the security code to his room (it changed every day and he always texted you the new one, reassuring you that your messages had been encrypted ten times over so nobody could even chip at the defenses, not that you were worried about someone hacking your phone in the first place.) The door opens with its usual mechanical woosh and shuts behind you the second you step inside, immediately locking again.

“Idia, I bought you a gift today!” you cheer, setting the containers down on his bed.

You turn around to face the rest of his room before stopping dead in your tracks, coming face to face with very wide eyed, shirtless Idia. He’s clutching his shirt to his chest, trying to hide as much of him as he possibly can, but the way the fat of his stomach pinches and rolls at his side could still be seen past the fabric. Your mouth forms a small o shape as you stare, taking him in.

“Stop staring!” he yells, and it's only then that you notice the tears in his eyes and the pink borderline red flickers in his flames, “Get out!”

He throws himself into the gamer chair, spinning it enough so that the back of it faces you. You can see him curling up into a little ball, struggling to get his shirt on in the state he’s in.

“Idia, wait!” you call out, stopping him in his tracks.

Soft sniffles fill the room, and it breaks your heart.

“Why are you here early?” he snaps, still not coming out from his hiding place.

“I bought you a miniature cake. You’ve been eating more lately and I’m proud of you for that.” you say softly, sitting down on his bed, “I’m not going to come over there, darling. Don’t worry. This is a safe space, you know? I would never judge you.”

Idia is silent for a few beats before he speaks again.

“Maybe...maybe I should stop eating.” he murmurs, and the pain that shoots through your heart makes you gasp.

“Idia, no.” you plead, gentle even though you’re panicking, “What’s making you feel this way? You’ve been doing so well, you’ve told me how good you’ve been feeling this past year because you’re eating healthier, what changed?”

“I look like this!” he spits out, and there’s so much self loathing in his tone it brings tears to your eyes as well.

“You look beautiful, darling, you always have. What about yourself do you not like?” you plead, hoping and praying he’ll open himself up to you.

“I’ve gained weight. I’m not as skinny anymore. I look gross.” he peeks out from behind his chair and your heart breaks at how bloodshot his eyes are, “I don’t...want you to see me like this and leave me.”

“My love...” you keep his gaze, leaning as close as you can to him without leaving the bed, “I love you no matter what you look like, you know that right? I love you as a person. You will always, always look lovely to me. I love you. I don’t love a perfect version of you I made up in my head. Every single insecurity you have, I love, because they aren’t flaws. They’re just you.”

You let him take your words in, listening to his heavy breaths before you stand up.

“Darling...can I see you?” you ask carefully, “I want to see you.”

He hesitates.

“Promise me you won’t be disappointed.” Idia’s voice cracks mournfully, like he’s already accepted a fate that will never befall him.

“Never.” you answer immediately.

Your breath catches in your throat when he shamefully moves away from his gaming chair, staring at the ground to avoid looking at you. Your heart hits the ceiling with how light it feels, your lungs contracting and your body growing warm. Oh, he’s ethereal.

You take in the parts that he hates—the creases of his neck and his soft pecs (his nipples are blue, you note, and honestly that doesn’t surprise you), the rolls of his stomach and the fiery trial of hair that leads to his pelvis. You take in the blue glow under his arms and the way the fat of his upper arm folds into his shoulder, and his way his stomach hangs a little over the waistband of his pants. You take it how his arms are bigger now, whether that be from growth or the added weight you don’t know, but what you do know is that all of this beauty was hiding under his hoodie for the past three years. Probably even longer.

“You’re beautiful.”

And your voice breaks as a single hand covers your mouth, hearts in your eyes as you finally, finally make eye contact with Idia, his hair sparking and popping like solar flares as the flames turn pink.

You love that pink.

“B...Beautiful!?” Idia jerks back, looking so scared and ashamed and confused, “What are you talking about!? Beautiful is for men in otomes with eight pack abs, I’m no ikemen but I’m not stupid and how could you ever call me something like that—!?”

“Idia Shroud, you’re beautiful!” you shout, your voice far louder than you intended and it cracks again because oh, you’re so emotional, how could this man think he’s anything but beautiful?

“...what?” he whispers, shirt still clenched in his hands like a lifeline, “You...you don’t want to leave me?”

What you want to do is ask why you ever thought he’d leave you in the first place.

What you do instead, is tell him no.

And you stay.

You don’t make an excuse to leave or try to let him down slowly. You stay in his room and you ask to hug him, you stay in his room and you embrace him so tenderly when he says yes, you stay in his room with him and you kiss his temple, holding all of the extra fat he didn’t come with when you fell in love with him in your arms, loving him all the same even though he’s changed.

He doubts you’ve ever called someone beautiful as many times as you’re calling him that right now.

So Idia shuts his eyes and buries his face in your shoulder, hiding his face and his body and his sobs from the rest of the world in the safety of your arms.

You really will love him no matter what.

He doesn’t know what to do.

[itsmarsss]

hunchback of notre-dame [Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Reader] (Marvel)

You get this ridiculous idea that you just need to mark a huge heart into his back.

Word count: 1,945

Warnings: sexual innuendos and jokes all around, mention of logan being a 'free pass' in your relationship lol, wade having a hard time grasping intimacy that isn't of a sexual nature, wade feeling self-conscious and speaking badly of his own appearance. established relationship. so many ridiculous and over-the-top pet names.

kiiinda loosely based off this ask- "Deadpool with s/o who keeps biting him? Not sexually (mostly) but I need to CHOMP this man."

“Please? Please please please please please please? Come onnnn sweetie-pie. Darling-dear. Baby boy. Baby.”

“Oh my God never call me ‘darling-dear’ again, what is this, medieval england?”

“Don’t change the subject!”

“Geez Louise why do you wanna do that so bad? Is it like a biting kink or something?”

“It could be.” You shrug.

“I’m listening.”

You roll your eyes at his reply. “‘Course now you are. I just wanna see how it looks!”

“It’s gonna heal in like two seconds, you know that, right?. I’m not sure it’ll even show.”

“Yeah but get this- what if you tried really really hard to stop it from healing?”

“I… don’t think that’s how it works, pookie-bear,” he tells you, booping your nose along with the ridiculous pet name.

You ignore it. “You don’t know that!”

He stops to think for a couple seconds before letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. This once.”

“Yes! Take your shirt off. And throw it in the wash, how many days have you been wearing it for?”

“Oh, too many to count, sweetheart.” 

“That’s gross, Wade.”

“Hey now, I’m gonna revoke your biting privileges!” He threatens, but proceeds to take the shirt off as and throw it in the hamper anyway.

“Nuh-uh, no take-backsies.”

“Then stop insulting my habits!” He sits down on the bed and you sit yourself on your legs right behind him. 

“What? When have I ever done that?” You feign confusion, kissing his shoulder.

“Now that’s just gaslighting. You’re a gaslighter. A mean, evil, toxic gaslighter and you’re gaslighting me.”

You laugh. “Oh whatever, grown man who needs to be reminded to do his laundry. You ready?”

“No?”

“Why do you even care so much? You get, like, stabbed on the daily.”

“Yeah but this isn’t… stabbing. Stabbing I’m used to.”

“I can stab you if you want me to.”

“Can you really?” 

“If you’re into that,” you play along.

“Oh you know I am, baby. No but that’s not what I meant.”

You kiss his lower back without a warning, and you can’t contain a smile at the way he shivers. “What do you mean, then?”

“This is… different.” He fidgets with his own hands as he talks, eyes trained on them over his own lap.

“What, not every person you’ve ever dated that’s asked to bite a heart into your back?” You continue kissing your way up his back, up until where you want said heart to start.

“Oh no, everyone asks me for that on the reg actually. I’m actually super mega lucky that I heal so fast, otherwise I’d just have to come home with all those hearts on my back all the time and you would not be happy with that would you?”

You punch his shoulder lightly and he smiles. “You bet I wouldn’t! Only I get to do this, you hear me?” You exclaim, feigning offense.

“Wolvie carved a heart into my thigh once. Hottest thing to ever happen to me. No offense.”

“None taken.” You bite the skin of his back right where you’d just kissed before. Not so hard that it’s meant to hurt, it’s not that kind of night, but not as if he’d break either, since, well, he kind of can’t. You suck lightly on the skin to make sure to leave a tiny mark and it’s a little funny to be doing this with no ulterior motives. “Especially since that for sure never happened.”

“It could have.” 

“If Logan ever carves a fucking heart into your thigh and I’m not there to witness it I will be so mad.” 

“Hey I thought we had a free pass with him!”

“Not if I’m not involved! Or at least get to watch.”

“Aye, aye, captain. Anything else you wanna witness between us, sweetcheeks?”

“I’ll tell you when I’m done, how about that?” You grin before resuming your work, biting and sucking on the scarred skin until you can see the aligned marks almost forming the shape you want them to. 

It’s a shock that it gets him to shut up for even just a few seconds, so it’s no surprise that the silence doesn’t last all that long. “This is…  It’s different… It’s… It’s really intimate isn’t it? Like overwhelmingly so. Is it hot in here, are you hot?”

You stop immediately. “Hey. Don’t freak out on me. I know I insisted a little but I didn’t think you were hesitating ‘cause you were uncomfortable. I wouldn’t have-” 

“No- no no no no no, it’s fine. It’s… Nice. It’s silly, but it’s nice. Just different.”

You stare at him until he manages to get himself to look up at you and nod, easing your worries and letting yourself believe him. “Okay. But only if you’re sure. And don’t call me silly!”

“You’re making it really hard, sugartits.”

“Hey!” You flick the back of his head.

“Ow! What was that for? It’s obvious that by ‘it’ I meant my dick. I was dirty talking. Clearly.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You bite into his skin again. He stays still and weirdly quiet once again, eyes closed and still shivering occasionally as you trace kisses along his back before following them with bites and, finally, the main goal- the hickeys. 

“You done?”

“Almost. Missing three.”

“They all still there?”

“They’re fading, but they’re still there. You trying to keep them?”

He shrugs, very obviously trying his hardest to pretend he doesn’t care. “Well you wanted me to, didn’t you?” 

You smile, cupping his jaw with one of your hands and turning his face to the side so you can give him a quick kiss. 

“Almost done,” you promise.

“Do it harder.”

“What?”

“Bite harder.”

“What, is this you saying you have some sort of biting kink?”

“First of all, you should have guessed that. Second of all, no, I just don’t want them to fade so fast.” 

“So someone’s enjoying the idea now.”

“Enjoying is pushing it. Curious is a better-fitting word.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Making the last of the marks, you lean back to admire the work. “Done,” you announce, tracing the shape with the tips of your fingers. 

“Well, can I see it?”

“Yeah.” You pull him to his feet and lead him to the full body mirror in the corner of the room. Turning himself around so his back is facing the mirror, he looks over his shoulder so he can see it too.

“Oh.”

“You don’t like it?”

“I thought it would… you can barely see it with the… you know. The scars.”

“Of course you can see it! Look!” You trace the shape on his skin with your pointer finger for him to see in the reflection.

“You know what I meant.” 

“I- didn’t want it to make you feel bad. It was really silly anyway. You can let it heal if you want to.”

“It’s not- it’s not that. Fuck, I know this was supposed to be this whole funny haha silly cutesy little thing but I just- I don’t even know why you do it.”

“Do what?”

“Put up with it.”

“What exactly?”

“This. It’s not really the best view in town, is it?” There he goes, unable to look you in the eye again.

“Sorry?”

“Like why would you even want to see this? You just spent like ten minutes staring at my back, which frankly looks like I single-handedly brought leprosy back to fashion and then you- just- like even just my face is enough for people to, like, projectile vomit. Why’d you make yourself do this right now?”

“I didn’t make myself do anything. I had to convince you to let me do it´.”

“‘Cause you wanna prove something.”

“What would I wanna prove with something so dumb?”

“I don’t know. That you don’t see me as a monster or something.” 

“I don’t see you as a monster. But I wasn’t trying to prove anything.”

Letting his face fall into his hands, he lets out a frustrated sigh, as if he hadn’t meant for the conversation to come to this. And he probably hadn’t, really, but he already did so much of pretending to be fine all the time. It sucked to see him like this, but at least he was letting himself be real, be honest with you about the way he was feeling. 

You’ve come a long way to gain this kind of trust. 

“Sorry. Ruined the moment. Way to go, Wade!” He apologizes.

“You don’t have to say sorry, you know that by now.” 

He glances at the mirror again and sees all the marks have gone away already, his mind going elsewhere and interrupting the focus he’d been putting into trying to put off the healing of them. He finally turns around to actually face you. “See? Can’t even have this one fucking silly little thing you wanted. It’s gone already cause, guess what, I’m a fucking freak of nature now. Like The Hunchback of Notre-Dame or something. I don’t know, I didn’t watch the movie.” 

You laugh. “Well I’ll just be Esmeralda then.”

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Oh you’d find her so hot, dude. But doesn’t matter.” You walk up to him, kissing him gently from his ear to his jaw to his neck to his lips. “Don’t fucking question why I love you ever again, that’s, like, so rude.”

“Oh that was just so sappy, even for you babe, massive sap vibes all over.”

“Oh shut up you big baby.” You place a last gentle kiss on the palm of his hand. “I have an idea.” You pull yourself away from him, disappearing into the bathroom.

“Yeah? Does it involve pity sex? Cause I’m feeling down and I am ready to pounce if you are and-“ He raises an eyebrow in question when you come back holding up something. “That some new vibrator or something?” 

“Can you wait like ten seconds?” 

“Ten seconds? Babe, you know that’s asking too much of me when I’m this horny. They don’t call me The Flash for nothing.” 

“Who is ‘they’? And what does that even mean?”

“Sorry, wrong franchise. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Huh?”

“Back to the vibrator.”

“It’s lipstick.” You turn to face the mirror, taking your time applying the dark red color to your lips. “Kay, turn around, pretty boy.”

“Oooh, kinky! You gonna gimme a rimjob with that lipstick on?  Wait is that another kink? We are full of surprises today.” He quips, turning around as asked. 

“Wade please shut up.” 

“You know I can’t do th- aaahh what are you doing?” He flinches, taken by surprise by the kiss you place on his back, right where the heart you’d marked on him had been.

“Well you can keep these ones a little longer.” This time, he keeps quiet the entire time you take to mark the heart on his back once again, with the lipstick this time, reapplying it before every other kiss so the marks truly showed. 

“Fuuuckkk I’m never washing my back again,” he comments as he admires the reflection in the mirror.

“Don’t even start.” 

“I’m staying dirty forever and it’s gonna be your fault, sweetheart,” he declares as he turns around to face you, and it pleases you to see his mood seems better. 

“We are taking a shower in a couple hours and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“We?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively at the implication.

“If that gets you to actually shower for once.”

“Hey, I shower all the time!”

“Then you can shower without me like a big boy.” 

“Actually I don’t take showers I don’t know how.” 

“Yeah, yeah I figured.”

A/N: hey send me stuff for deadpool i actually enjoyed writing this lol it was v fun and cute!! i hope it isn't much too ooc lol i still gotta get the hang of writing wade

[devilstruly]

FRI(END)S -

- 'let's put the end in friends'

pairing (drumroll please) - jason todd x f.reader

includes - mutual pining, best friend dick grayson, batfam being nosy as shit, reader is kind of camera shy/insecure, jealous jason but in a cute way, angry confession (personal fav), mild angst but with a happy ending obvi, swearing, briefly mentioned smut (like one sentence at the end) + anything i might've missed

a/n - hi hello...idk what to say honestly. this was a very random idea i got at like 3am and i can just hope that you guys will like it. also my characteristics of the fam are solely based on the webtoon. yes the title is inspired by taehyung's single what about it

@dreamingaboutsakuratrees this one's for you (and everyone else who voted on that poll) <3

'Yes! Yes, that's perfect! Gosh, the camera absolutely loves you two!'

'Thanks, Delilah ~'

Dick sends the photographer a wink, paired with that signature grin of his, and she nearly falls on her ass. You roll your eyes at the scene affectionately, focused on fixing your hair and checking your makeup for the nth time in the past hour.

'Will you quit it?'

Beside you, your best friend whines and you swat him away with your hand, eyes never leaving the mirror.

'I'm sorry! I just wanna make sure it looks good!'

'You look beautiful. You're doing great, you just need to relax. Focus on me, yeah?'

It's honestly impossible to say no to those eyes, you've learned that a long while ago. The fact that he knows the effect he has doesn't help either.

The photoshoot goes by in a blur. You've changed at least five outfits, done the couple shoots, done the single ones, had a lunch break, etc etc. Throughout the day you learn that the crew that works for Gotham Gazette is actually quite nice, which helped ease your nerves immensely.

Now six hours later, you're sitting in your comfortable clothes, in the passenger seat of Dick's car, on the familiar road towards the Wayne Mansion.

As soon as you step through the door you're greeted with a flash of purple.

'How was it?! Tell me everything! When will the cover be out?! What did you wear?! Who did you see?!'

Stephanie looks as if she's about to burst and simultaneously split her face in half with her grin.

'It went...well, it went.'

Beside you Dick rolls his eyes so hard you could almost hear the gesture.

'Don't listen to her, it was great. She was great.'

'Stoppppp!'

You immediately hide your face in your hands, much to the man's amusement. One of Dick's arms wraps around your shoulders and the three of you head for the library.

'Well, well, well, if it isn't Gotham's power couple ~'

'Gross. Everybody knows they are mere friends.'

'We know. But the rest of Gotham is skeptical.'

'You are hallucinating, Drake. This is why you should stop drinking multitudinous of coffee.'

'Listen here you little shit-'

'O-kay!'

Dick, as always, steps in between the two brothers, effectively averting what could result in another prank war between the two. And it's not even prank season yet.

'Damian, you and I need to discuss that plan for tonight, right?'

'What are you talking ab-'

'The sooner we start the better!'

With that the two dissappear from the room, a very confused Damian letting himself be led by a beaming Dick.

Allowing yourself to feel the tiredness from everything you've done today, you plop on the now empty seat on the couch and sigh deeply.

'Cookie?'

'Thanks, Cass.'

You smile gratefully at the girl, sinking into the cushions more and more while chewing on the chocolate chip cookie.

'Sooo...'

Duke begins, the suspicious tone causing you to raise a brow before he continues.

'...When do we get to see the pictures?'

With this, every pair of eyes in the room turns to you, and you have to avoid the urge to groan.

'The actual magazine comes out in a week. But they'll email us the pictures the day after tomorrow I think.'

'I can't wait to see them! I bet you and Dick had so much chemistry in the photos!'

'Honestly, next to him I don't think anyone will notice me.'

'Of course they will! Especially if you did a couple shoot and got all close and-'

A loud slam interrupts Steph and her rambling and all of you turn to look at a very annoyed Jason. Which, to be fair, is just normal Jason.

He's silent when he stands up and walks across the room, hands stuffed in his pockets. If you had to guess, you'd say he was avoiding eye-contact too.

'Awkward...'

'Not helping Duke.'

- a few days later -

Everyone is sitting in the living room, crowded around Tim's computer, with you and Dick in the middle.

'Jason!'

Dick chirps as soon as he sees his brother enter the room.

'Come look at the photos!'

'No thanks.'

That was the second time that week that Jason refused to look you in the eyes and downright ignored your existence. But you knew better than to press Jason Todd.

Besides, maybe it wasn't even personal.

-

This was definitely personal.

You haven't talked to Jason in days, and it was driving you insane. The worst part is that you have no idea what the fuck you did.

So naturally, as one does, you'll ask him about it. Deciding that it's best to do it after patrol, particularly after the two of you took down some thugs together and were left alone, you refuse to go back home until you two work this out.

'See you tomorrow.'

'Jason.'

Red Hood stops dead in his tracks, and despite his back being turned to you, you can see the tension in his shoulders.

'This needs to stop.'

'I have no idea what-'

'Cut the bullshit, Jay. Why the fuck have you been avoiding me?'

He inhales deeply, mustering up the courage to turn around and face you. Your arms are crossed in front of your chest, accompanied with a very annoyed glare.

'I'm waiting.'

'It's nothing that concerns you.'

His answer makes you at least five times more furious and you scoff.

'Oh yeah? Well I beg to differ. I think I deserve to know why my friend has spent an entire week actively avoiding me.'

Due to his helmet you can't see it, but Jason rolls his eyes in annoyance.

'Why do you care, anyway? I'd say Richard has been keeping you busy.'

This makes you splutter, completely catching you of guard. His words are on repeat in your mind as you try to piece two and two together.

'What the fuck does Dick have to do with any of this?!'

'You tell me!'

Both of your voices echo off the empty walls in the alleyway before a thick silence takes over. Jason takes off his helmet and places it on a nearby fire escape so he can run a hand through his hair.

You watch him, still mildly annoyed, but the sight of his face welcoming nonetheless. And then he looks up and you feel an arrow shoot right through your heart.

His green eyes are soft, dare you say pleading, when they meet your own.

'I-' He takes a deep breath. 'It's the damn photoshoot.'

Before you can ask him to elaborate he's already going off, arms flying every which way with gestures he uses to emphasize his points.

'All I've been hearing for days has been about you and Dick looking all couple-y and what not. I mean you looked gorgeous, honestly why would anyone pay attention to him when you're right there, but god was it getting annoying.'

You have to blink a few times before your brain catches up with his words. Much to his dismay, you don't soften, if anything you look even more pissed now.

'I still don't understand why you've been avoiding me.'

'Because I fucking like you!'

The volume of his words startles you and you swear he was heard a couple blocks away.

'You what now-'

Jason takes a step closer to you.

'I-'

Another step.

'-like-'

Another step.

'-you.'

He's gotten so close to the point of cornering you against a wall, the intensity behind his eyes rendering you unable to look away. You allow yourself a few silent moments to simply appreciate his beauty this close before putting him out of his misery. By your standards at least.

'So this whole time you've just been jealous?'

It takes all of your willpower not to laugh when he deadpans.

'I never took you for a jealous guy to be hones-'

'Shut the fuck up already and kiss me.'

'Yessir ~'

He groans at the term and you make a mental note to use it again later when you're at his apartment.

Who needs to sleep anyway?

[starillusion13]

RENT IS DUE!

Pairing: housemates!(Jaehyun,Mark,Jeno,Jaemin) x fem!reader

Genre: SMUT, Housemates, Mature

W.C: (15k) (I thought I was trying to make a series)

Warnings: PERVERT (all of them are pervert and you can’t change my mind here), dom!Mark dom!Jaemin meandom!Jeno meandom!Jaehyun sub!reader. overstimulation, nipple play, sucking, lots of kissing, manhandling, oral(m and f), spit as lube, penetration w/o protection (I suggest you not to do it) [do tell me if I have missed anything)

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated . Applause to the ones who come up to me to interact and they know how friendly I am. Okay enough!

MINORS DONT INTERACT UNDER THE CUE! 🔞

Here comes the long awaited fic! Taglist in the end. Thanks to everyone for waiting. I would love to hear your responses once you finish reading it. Let’s start!

NOW I DON’T WANT TO BE A HOMELESS!

Never in a while, you thought that suddenly one day morning you would wake up to hear your house owner ringing the bell as if hell broke loose and it’s the end of the world. It would have been better honestly as the news she delivered to you after you welcomed her inside while rubbing your eyes and yawning was lot worser. She eyed you for a moment and looked around the house as if you were hiding someone and then smilingly told you that you have to leave the house in three days. ONLY THREE DAYS! Like is she fucking serious? How can you actually arrange for a place suddenly? This woman has always been a rude one but you just never minded her as she lives in a different state and comes for few days every month to her parents’ home and to take the rent from you. She always has this suspicion on you that you bring over boys but only she doesn’t know that you are not so lucky one in getting a boy for yourself, keeping aside boys. Aside from this, everything was fine but to give you the notice to leave the house in three days was very much unpredictable from her. You even tried to convince her to give you one month time or atleast for one week. But NO. she was not convinced by your pleadings but gave you strict warning to leave. And what’s the reason behind this. She has got a very big amount of deal on selling this house so she won’t be losing the chance. Understandable, everything is for money.

Now, what about your need for the money? You clearly know that how costly the apartments are in this locality and that’s why it was the best option for you to select this place to stay on cheap rent but due to this sudden kick out, you have to search a new place. First, you gave up on the search in this locality and search for other houses or apartments in some outskirt regions but nothing was showing upto your satisfaction. The places are too far for you to maintain daily up-down journey from house to office and back. So, today after getting the news from the owner, you took a quick leave from the office and promised to work extra time to make up for todays. And that’s how you are stuck in your room with messy hairs, not caring about to eat anything, making a list to pack the important things first and the rest in sequence and your laptop placed on your lap with your eyes boring onto the screen in search for a quick and affordable place.

NeoVilla.

The owner has not mentioned the amount of the rent but the room look so nice, it must be expensive. Still, your fingers hovering over the click button to contact the owner. The place is quite near to your office but the locality is away from the city zone but it’s not the matter here right now. To get a place affordable enough to live and that’s near to your workplace. Biting your lips, you looked at the name and the picture of the room shown at the side and then your gaze moves to the contact side- ‘via call’ or ‘via message’. You clicked on the message option and fingers lingering over your keyboard as you are nervous how to start the conversation. Just sending a quick ‘Hi’, you waited for the other end to reply. You are literally so tensed as if you are approaching your crush in high-school. Well, still you need to be professional before approaching this owner as you don’t know their personality yet so it’s good to be on the safe side.

Nothing came back as a reply and losing the hope, you got up to freshen up and prepare your food for the day. It took almost two hours or maybe more than that to prepare everything for yourself and after finishing up when you thought to pack your things, you get to your laptop to check if you should still keep a hope or just search for something else but fortunately, YES FORTUNATELY you have ten messages from the account. But wait! Your overthinking ass is again thinking about the negative possibilities when there are more than five texts from someone. As soon as you opened the texts, you are greeted with apologies that how the person never looks up this account anymore and he was no more planning to rent the room but if the matter is urgent then they might look into the matter. He even introduced himself and gave you the contact number just in case you want to know the further details. Relief washes over you and you happily sit on the edge of the bed. Saving the contact as ‘Owner-Jaehyun’, you quickly message him about your needs and urgency. You didn’t opt for calling as you are not comfortable on call with strangers. Surprisingly, the owner replied to the message quick enough and he agrees with your demands but the only thing that is not sitting properly is the money. He claims you to pay for three months payment in advance but your bank account has a problem or simply you don’t have that much amount of money altogether. To get this matter solve in person, you tell him to meet outside but he denies quickly and asks you to come over to the house so that you will get the overview of the house and know the exact location of the place and then you can talk about the money matter. That’s how you both comes in terms with meeting him the next morning before going to your office.

…………………………….

“Hi!”

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Blinking your eyes, you pout a little at the man standing in front of you as to why the person is acting as if he does not know you. You have already checked the message in your phone twice and the third time now and it’s still showing this house. You have already texted the owner about your arrival for a quick look to the new place so the owner should know you would come. Wait you haven’t shared any pic of yours so it might be the reason of this weird introduction.

“Are you Jung Jaehyun, the owner of this house?”

Now, the person before you, has a frown on his face and blinking down at you. The bare face with red eyes and messy hairs with a white tee worn casually is still enough to reflect his handsomeness. You literally envy when people look good in messy stuffs as you look like you have survived a war.

“I’m not him but I’m one of the owners of this place. Myself Jaemin.”

“Owners? I didn’t know there’re others. Nice to meet you though, here this is Y/N.”

Awkwardly shaking hands with each other, he offers you to enter the house. This dude is really weird and he is still trying to understand the situation. His eyes never left your form after the introduction and the way he is checking you out, anyone can call him out as a pervert but what about you. Meanwhile your eyes roaming all around the big mansion and you are in awe with the luxurious interior of this grand place with expensive items decorating every corner and the most displayed area.

Hands fidgeting by your side and biting your lips, you turn around to find him already looking at you and you feel conscious of your look. Trying to smile a bit, you fail miserably because of his gaze which is piercing on your skin, your choice for wearing a skirt and a plain top is making you to regret now. This dude needs to be changed with his approach with people like why he has to stare at you like this.

“How do you know Jaehyun?”

You blink on his sudden question but clearing your throat, you try to form some words but it seems as if you don’t know how to speak yet.

He smirks at you, “what happened? Caught in a lie?”

“Huh? No no. I…he is the owner with whom I had contacted few days back for a room to rent and he said that he has one vacant extra room in his house so for the advance payment and quick check through, I informed him about my arrival but it seems he forgot about it.”

“Renting the extra room? That even to a girl?”

You nod slowly.

Poking his tongue inside his cheeks, his eyes trail down your body and taking extra time on your exposed legs to which you shifted in your place and his eyes meet yours, straight away making an eye contact as if daring you to move again and see the consequences. A fear flashes through your eyes to which he gestures you to sit with a smile on his face.

Slow steps towards the sofa, you sit on the middle large one, no wait which do I need to sit on? The love seat one? Or the chair one? Ah. Forget about it.

Turning your head to his side, he is no more standing there but you see him walking away towards a passage way.

“Jaemin, can you call Jaehyun as I need to have a quick talk with him?”

Halting in his way, he looks back at you and nods his head but it doesn’t seem like as if he is agreeing with you but rather agreeing with something inside his mind.

“Who are you?”

Turning your head to the other side, you find a man with black tshirt and trousers staring down at you but not to so happy with your presence. His question is so cold just like his appearance but a guest is a guest. You are a stranger so why asking you like this as if he caught you stealing things in his house. His house? Who even is he?

“Myself y/n.”

“Oh, pretty one! I didn’t want your name but thanks for giving me the name to this pretty face. So, what’s my dear Y/N doing here? Who brought you here during this bright daylight instead of night?”

“I’m not here for…on call of anybody. I’m here for the rental room.”

“You mean you are going to stay here? In this house?”

You nod your head with furrowed brows.

He asks again, “Who let you even know about it? Are you sure that you are not at the wrong address? What’s the name of the owner who contacted you?”

“Jung Jaehyun. I have double checked it and it’s showing the same address where I am currently and Jaemin told me he is the other owner.”

Something clicks in his mind when his eyes go round and brows raise high as if he realized something very important. You haven’t yet noticed that you are standing on your legs while speaking to him and your hands gripping the skirt tightly, why are they so overreacting to have a girl over for the rental room? It should be you like panicking to see so many men in a single household without any trace of a female and you wonder if you have to live with them or they are just here for some reasons.

“Well, hello there y/n! My name is Jeno, I’m another owner of this household and it’s really nice to have you here.”

Shaking hands with him, you feel shy because of his stare along with a sly smirk resting in the corner of his lips. He is not letting your hands go even when you try to pull a little.

You ask him, “Another owner? How many of you are here?”

“Four.”

You turn around on hearing a new voice, a man emerges from the passage way where Jaemin went to earlier. He notices your confused expression and approaches you with a hand offering for a handshake. Jeno has already left your hand and gone to sit on a chair nearby.

“So, Jaemin told me about your arrival. Y/n, right? This is Jaehyun.”

If the previous men are angels from heaven, then this one is the angel who has been created by every angel with a little touch of every beauty. Why all of them are so handsome and hot? I should take control of my mind as what stupid things I’m just thinking about my house owners.

“Yes. I am. Nice to meet you.”

His dimples deepen with the smile and nodding his head, he gestures you to sit back and unconsciously your legs give in and you touch the soft material of the sofa. You are really feeling too weak in front of them. Is it because you are unwell or something about their aura and the stares?

He takes a seat on the love seat and checks something on his phone.

“Is this ‘fantasy love’ your username?”

“Oh yeah. I’m so sorry I haven’t yet changed the name and I just like to keep everything private so I don’t use my real name there. But I can assure you that I’m clean, I don’t have any criminal records and all. Also, I will not cause any trouble while staying here. I need somewhere to stay so urgently that I was glad when you offered me this place on the site.”

He chuckles on your ramblings and also you can hear two chuckling voices from the place where Jeno is sitting. You feel shy under their gazes, you notice how Jaehyun is staring at you as if judging your whole appearance and on the other end, Jeno is being accompanied by Jaemin, who is standing by the side with a spoon in his hand and asking the other one to taste something but their eyes are on you when they caught you watching them.

Your attention brought back to Jaehyun when he clears his throat and lips close rightly making a line, dimples visible again.

“But you have already lied on one thing.”

“What? I haven’t lied anything. You must be wrong somewhere.”

“In the online generated space for some specific basic informations, you have selected the gender as male. But all I can see is a beautiful Angel sitting in front of me.”

Your eyes go wide on hearing his words so you quickly open the site and go through the form of basic informations and then your eyes stop on one place.

Gender: Male(☑️). Female ( ). Not mention( ).

Oh. You and your clumsy ass would never learn how to take things slowly and properly to avoid mistakes but this one is really about your identity of being a liar or not. He must be thinking you as a liar. It really doesn’t matter whatever pronouns people use for you and you need to refer to others but making mistake and have to get blame as a liar is not setting right.

“What the hell….”

“So, why did you lie there?”

“Jaehyun, I didn’t lie there. It’s just that I was must be in hurry and selected wrong.”

You are looking down, feeling guilty on the realization that they must have thought on getting a male visitor today but instead you showed up and that’s why they felt weird earlier. You were ready to apologize and take your leave with the disappointment on your mistake when he spoke up.

“When are you ready to finally come over?”

“Huh?”

“It’s okay. Humans are meant to make mistakes and an angel should be forgiven as they are always so busy for looking pretty.”

You feel shy on the compliment with his seductive voice directly reaching your ears. You tug your hairs a bit and you can feel two other states on you this whole time but you opt to ignore it.

“Do I need to-“

“Gosh! Why nobody woke me up and now I’m running late for the meeting?”

A man with jet black hairs, dressed in a black suit, hands busy putting the watch on the wrist and eyes glaring all around the room. His steps fast while coming down the stairs. You didn’t know but you are again watching this man like you did with the others and when his eyes land on you, a frown appears on his face.

“So, you all are busy with a girl that even early in the morning and forgetting about the event at the office. Are you all for real?”

“Calm down Mark, I have told them to start the meeting after one hour as how you came home late last night. Don’t worry.”

He even glared at you before making his way out of the door. Jaemin shouts to have the breakfast but the other ignored the shout leaving behind a grumbling man.

“So, what were you saying?”

Oh yeah! I was saying something before this little commotion.

“In two days, I will be coming here to stay with my things and also, do I need to pay you in advance?”

“That’s fine. I will prepare the room for you. So, you have the money?”

You shake your head to which he nods.

“It’s okay, you can arrange for it in one week time and if you have any trouble, feel free to approach to any one of us.”

You smile to his welcoming gestures and sweet words. You feel satisfied on finally getting the place to stay.

“Uh I have one more question.”

“Ask away.”

“Do you all stay here as well?”

“Yes. Why?”

Oh. Okay.

“I need to stay here with you all?”

“Yeah. It’s just under the same roof but you have your personal room unless you want to stay in any one of ours.”

He laughs in the end and you laugh along with him. He doesn’t mean anything else right? No no it’s not.

You stand up and he follows you to the door and you can see Jeno trailing behind him.

“It was nice to meet you all.”

“Same here. Also don’t mind Mark, he is like that when something is not in accord, otherwise he is really sweet.”

You nod with a smile.

Jeno speaks up, “Also he is the fourth owner and the last owner you are yet to meet properly.”

With waving them and making your way towards the gate in the end of the garden, Jaehyun calls you again. Turning back, your eyes tell him to say.

“Remember, your rent is due.”

Rent is due.

The whole ride to your office, his words were dancing in your mind that you need to gather the money for three months in advance. You were sure to make him change the rent structure but the way your nervousness took over yourself that you couldn’t get yourself to ask about it. Fine, atleast you have a place to stay in two days and one week more to arrange the money and also, he offered that if you need help regarding the money then you can ask one of them, three out of four. No way, you are going to ask that grumpy one, God knows where he is showing his temper right now, you feel pity over those employees.

Arriving to the workplace, you are already late for fifteen minutes. Wow, great you have an important meeting but due to the traffic, you are going to get a good earful. Your one of the co-workers greets you at the entrance with a worried look on her face and you already know the reason.

“Y/n, just run to the meeting room. Managing Director is already getting pissed off with your absence and if you don’t hurry-“

You are literally skipping steps to reach to the elevator, “Sana, I know but can you please shut up. I know I’m already late, you don’t have to say it again.”

Without looking back at her, you quickly enter the elevator and press the buttons repeatedly as if it would fly you to the room. Tapping your feet impatiently, you glancing to your wrist watch with passing of each floor and you just hope to atleast arrive there without any more hurdles. So many things going in your life all together. Honestly, if it was any other meeting then it should not have been a problem but today the Managing Director will be attending the meeting and you have already messed up.

Reaching the floor, you sprint towards the meeting room and push open the door. Breathing heavily and sweats lining your forehead, you smooth over your skirt and bow with apologies flowing continuously from your mouth.

Everyone already has seated in their places and as soon as you saw your empty chair in the end of the row, you turn to move towards it. Wait, don’t think you are getting out of this situation so easily.

“So, you are Ms. Kang Y/N?”

You halt in your steps and turn around. Your eyes go big and shock expression visible on your face to come face to face with the person who just called you. That’s why the voice sounded so familiar. Can I just jump out of the window from this floor? Like what is he doing here? Why? Out of all the people, he is here.

Mark.

“Come here miss, I have already introduced myself to rest of them but I guess you think everything goes according to you so let me introduce myself to you in a special way.” He takes slow steps towards you, but your brain is having two reactions like one that he is looking scary with this deep tone and two that he is looking hella fine and maybe hot in this black suit.

“Myself, Mark Lee. The Managing Director of Fact Check Enterprise.” Oh. So, he is the one who was supposed to come and the meeting was scheduled later due to him and is matching how Jaehyun earlier referred about his going home late at night. He shakes your shaky hands and leans down to whisper, “Also, the fourth owner of the villa.”

Standing up straight, he goes back to the end of the table to his previous place but this time he asks an employee sitting at the front of the row to exchange the seat with yours and sends a smirk towards you. You are still standing there and understanding his motives but he just raises his eyebrows and signals you to sit in the new place. That’s the place extremely near to him. He is just trying to do everything possible to show his temper on you. You didn’t think back in your way that the poor employee will be you. How pathetic!

The meeting lasted for one and a half an hour. The result was the best and your experience was the worst. In the end of every speech, he laughed to make everyone comfortable around him and also listened to each of the member’s point of view on the project and he had that warm aura that even made those employees to state their perspectives who always hesitate. His leadership skills were on the point but everything was different when it was your turn. He had that smirk plastered permanently on his face, eyes roaming all over your body and him leaning back to his chair and palms joined before him and deeply staring at you was like something to make you feel uncomfortable. It’s not like anyone was finding the situation weird but you know him holding the grudge from the morning. Whenever your tensed self was explaining something, he has to interrupt and ask you some silly question which didn’t even relate to the topic but smiling towards others he claimed that everyone has to prepare for such questions in bigger interviews. Huh bigger interviews! he is just asking you the questions just to mess with you and piss you off because of the commotion back at their house. You are a very confident woman when it comes to your work and duties but somehow his presence is not helping you today.

Ending the meeting officially, everybody stood up and bowed to him and others. You did the same but when it’s your turn to exit, “Miss Y/n. Please stay back, I have few words to talk with you.”

Looking back to the ones left to leave the room, they send you innocent smiles and excused themselves to leave. You are hoping to leave the room along with them but to your surprise, Mark closes the door as soon as everybody left.

“So, should I call you Y/n or fantasylove?” He asks while leaning against the door, hands folded in front and smirk still visible.

“Y/n….” you try your best to avoid his piercing gaze on you but you got tensed up when you hear his footsteps nearing you.

Hands gripping your jaw, fingers brushing over the skin so lightly and eyes devouring your simple beauty. Poking his cheek with the tongue, he smiles down at you, “A shy housemate we are getting huh?”

“I’m not shy. It’s just you are crossing your boundaries.”

He chuckles and raises his eyebrows, “Boundaries of?”

“This. You are crossing the distance between an employee and you. You should not do this as it would hamper both of our image.” You try to push him but he holds you tighter and closer by the waist.

Tilting his head, he leans to your level to whisper in your ears, “What if I want to ruin my image?” his breaths fan over your ears, tickling your skin, “And also if I want to ruin you, love?”

“What?” Your shocked eyes staring at the door in the fear of anyone getting inside anytime and finding you here in this position. Without thinking anything else, you push him and take your bag from the chair and sprint towards the door. Leaving behind a man with a smug expression and satisfied self.

You didn’t care if he is going to report your behaviour of pushing him but if anyone would have seen the scene then also it might have caused a similar problem and it was better option to run away.

All the way back home, it was you overplaying the same scene from the office in your mind and having a second doubt to shift to his house, their house. You certainly don’t have another option to cancel them but also an uneasiness setting in your mind. Maybe he was just trying to be friendly with me as we are going to stay in the same place and am just overthinking about the issue? But is it? So, you block your every here and there thoughts to just stick to your plan and that’s moving to the house in two days.

………….

The next day, it’s a mess for you as you are packing up all the things and also tensing on the matter of not having enough money in your account. You should keep a proper calculation of your spendings and get hold of your balance when it’s reaching the bottom limit. You don’t know whether you can manage to pack all the things by the night and would be able to move tomorrow but still keeping aside your other routines, you focus yourself on gathering your stuffs in one place.

*DING*

Your doorbell ringing continuously and you swear if it’s again any children playing around, you might lose your temper. It’s not like you don’t love them but in this hectic situation if it’s not something important but them, you are literally going to lose your mind.

Opening the door casually, you are prepared to scold the one who ringed it but to your surprise, Jaemin is standing at your doorstep with a flower bouquet and a bright smile plastered on his face. Atleast, you should have peeked before from the peephole so atleast you wouldn’t be standing like a beggar in front of this absolute beautiful man.

“Hey, Jaemin. You didn’t inform me that you are coming and also how come you know my place?”

 He hands over the bouquet to you and you welcome him inside. While placing the gift on top of the counter, you turn back to him to see him looking around the house in curiosity.

 “If I had informed you then where was the fun of surprising you and also you are going to be our new housemate so it’s good to know about your details and I asked Jaehyun about it.”

“He knows about it?” you ask in confusion.

He nods and comes near to you, sliding his hand around your neck, “Yeah, you have told him on the call, yesterday.”

“Did I?”

He nods again and pats your head, “Don’t overthink yourself little mate. It’s easy to forget things when you have so many other responsibilities. And that’s why I’m here to help you with it.”

He looks around the living room but he can’t see anything to pack as you have already taken all your stuffs to the bedroom and kept in one place to make it easier for the packing. He turns to you and you move from his hold to give him a glass of water.

“Sorry, I can’t offer you anything more as all my snacks have been finished and I myself haven’t ate anything since the morning and it has been afternoon already so maybe I will look for a quick delivery. I will bake something for you when we would be staying um together.”

“That sounds nice. I really like it that we are going to stay together.”

Leaning on the counter you sigh, “yeah, something like that.”

A worry flashes across Jaemin’s eyes, “Hey, you look so tired. Just tell me where your stuffs are and then I can help you with and then later I will bring you some food. You need to take care of yourself.”

“It’s okay, Jaemin I don’t want you to worry for this. I can handle it, really.”

“Y/n. I insist, please. I will feel that you are not considering me as your friend and a housemate, me and my brothers wont feel nice about this. We just want you to feel comfortable with us.”

“Brothers? You guys are related?”

“Not fully. Mark and Jeno are related but me and Jaehyun has same father as them but our dad has married twice. His first wife died early and that’s Jaehyun’s mother and then he married again and that’s Mark and Jeno’s mother.”

“And you?”

“The child of the mistress down the street.” He laughs at his own explanation and you give him a smile.

Jaemin has the sweetest personality and you look forward to his company while living with them. He is so helpful and kind of a perfect friend and maybe has the best qualities of a husband. You are taking your thoughts a bit too far. Apart from his good qualities, he is a kind of…pervert. Like, he offers you to take the shower when he will be sealing the boxes and after so much of insisting, you took a quick shower and then when you saw him standing near the door, scanning your whole body but fortunately you were dressed. On asking him what he was doing there, he quickly apologized and said that he needed to use the bathroom. But something about his stare is making you feel uneasy, you can feel all the time when you two were packing that his eyes were lingering on you. You even caught him few times stealing glances of you but you ignored it.

“Thanks for the help, Jaemin and I really enjoyed the food. It’s expensive though.”

“Anything for my little mate.” He ruffles your hair and goes to the exit.

Bidding your goodbyes to each other, you are smiling to yourself after closing the door. Maybe the news of leaving the house was not as bad as you thought and also getting housemates in addition was not in your list. You are going to start a different life from tomorrow so it’s the last day of you staying in this house.

As promised last night, Jaemin is happily waiting for you by the side of the road and also brought a van with him to carry your luggage. To your surprise, Jeno is also tagging along with him and you are happy that they are so friendly with you. Both of them didn’t let you to do anything, not even was letting you to carry your purse. You were utterly surprise with this sort of treatment because never once in a lifetime, you ever thought or got this type of behaviour from someone. You are so glad that they are going to be your housemates but what about the fourth one, Mark. Well, you can ignore one person, its not like you are associating with them very closely. You are going to be friendly and all and also most of the time you are going to be working your ass off at your workplace. Atleast for this upcoming one week. Jaemin asks you if you had your breakfast and lunch but you shyly shake your head and he scolds you for it but Jeno was quick to send him off to buy you all some food and himself volunteered to take you to their place, apparently your place too from now onwards.

The ride to the place was having fun with him and listening to different songs and humming to the songs that were of your choices as he insisted you to play your playlist. It was a cute gesture. On reaching to your destination, the day flashes when you entered the same gate without the hope of staying here but today finally you are here. Your previous owner was eyeing Jeno so suspiciously when you were handing over the keys, you doubt she has doubt him as your boyfriend instead of your new house owner.

“Welcome to NeoVilla, pretty one.”

You give a smile, “Thanks for the ride, Jeno.” And when you try to open your car door, Jeno is quick in action as he opens it for you and extends his hand in front for you to hold with a sweet smile on his face. Such a gentleman!

Holding your hand, he takes you inside the villa.

OH MY GOODNESS!

This is your literal impression after getting inside the house. They have arranged for a welcome party for you, not inviting any guests but only them and you as the main spotlight of the party.

“I hope you had a safe and fun ride with Jeno.” Jaehyun walks towards you with a rose in his hand and a sly smirk resting on his face.

“Yeah, he is really such a nice person. And what’s all these for?” You say while showing around the decorations with your hand. He holds your gesturing hand and brings to his lips, planting a soft kiss.

He is such a flirt that before leaving your hand, he winks at you. You shyly laugh it off and tugs your hairs behind your ears before looking around to take your mind off the incident. They are going to be your end if they continue acting like this to you. Their gestures and words having this strong effect on you and they also make you feel like as if you are the centre of their attention. Jeno takes a hold of your hand where still the feelings of Jaehyun’s lips lingering.

Jaehyun goes over to the table and brings a drink for you, “Drinks?” You shake your head sideways and he nods while taking a good look of your outfit, “I see that you love to wear skirts a lot. And also, all these are for you. To welcome our baby to this grand villa.” He smiles in the end of his sentence, taking a small sip from his glass.

“Hey! I’m not a baby though. Me and Jaemin is of same age, we got to know about this last night. So, that means Jeno here is of my age too.”

Jeno takes you towards the table and gestures you to sit and he takes the place beside you, sitting facing you, one hand resting on top of the chair. Jaehyun moves to the other side of the table and stands on the opposite side, leaning on his one hand on the chair and other hand holding the glass. Both of their focus on you, out of shyness, you take a glass and have some water to atleast calm down your racing heart on feeling their continuous stare.

“You might be of my age but still you are the youngest of this household so you are the baby.” Jeno gives you his eye-smile with his cheerful speech.

Jaehyun laughs on hearing his brother, “Yeah that’s true and I will call you baby, my baby.”

His baby. Doesn’t it sound like a boyfriend calling his girlfriend. Hey! Stop. He is not your boyfriend and he can’t be ever. This is the second day that you are meeting him and here you are already falling for him. Huh! Well, not your fault that you are finding their actions and words towards you weird and overwhelming. Not weird actually, the reason is you have never experienced any boy to be treating you like this ever let aside two or three of them all together. You wonder for a while how you are going to stay with these flirts if they are going to treat you like this. You are not going to lie here but honestly if they were someone else then you would have tried to stand for yourself, maybe atleast have rejected the plan on moving here. You are never a vocal person and know to fight for your rights so you don’t have much more expectation but somehow you are letting them to have their ways with you. Simply, you are sttracted to them. You are ignoring their behaviours, them calling you with nicknames and treating you as if…..you are their family member. Well, you are kind of. A housemate.

Jaemin announces his arrival with a whistle and shouting ‘where is my little mate?’ Again, those names. But deep down you are loving it. You are even questioning yourself as to why you are appreciating everything regarding them. But let it aside as food is here and nothing can be prioritised more than this. You had a great lunch with three of them and then when Jaehyun excused himself for having some important works and left the house. You are left back with two sweat hearts. Their playful jokes, flirting here and there and the famous smirks plastered on their face when you are so shy on their compliments. You compared your life back in your previous house with this present and now you see how lonely you were when living all alone but as everything happens for better and now you are here laughing with these two. Everything was going usual until this certain person entered the dining area.

“I see you are having a great time with my brothers, Love.”

Oh, how you forgot that not those three are your only housemates but this menace too. You try to act normal even if the scene from last day is bugging you and Jaemin’s eyes sticked in your figure is not helping it. His eyes dancing between you and his brother and judging how you are shifting in your place. Jeno’s hands come to place on top of yours and with an assuring smile, he nods his head and turns back to his brother who has just entered.

“You are early today, Mark.” Jeno asks.

Mark’s gaze is still on you and you are well aware of it but trying your best to ignore it and focus on the food before you even if you want to run away from the current situation yet you don’t want to waste your favorite food so its better be like this.

“Yeah, Jaehyun would be there to handle the other stuffs so I guess I won’t be needed today and its good as our dear housemate is here.”

Jaemin furrows his eyebrows, “What’s with you calling her love?” You cough on hearing him. He is not going to tell them about what he did to you in your office. Right? It’s nothing much but still. Jeno hands you a tissue and Jaemin continues, “Have you guys met yet?”

Mark widely smiles and takes the seat beside Jaemin and that’s across from you, “Yeah, of course.”

“Where?” Jeno is curious too as where his brother got the chance to meet you outside the house.

“Apparently, the meeting I had yesterday which I thought wont be much useful had me otherwise. It was a lot more interesting than I had ever expected.” Mark is following your every reaction.

“You both were in the same meeting?” Jaemin asks his brother and looks at you.

“Yes and that even she was sitting beside me. She was late though. Very irresponsible employee.” Mark chuckles before adding, “but we had fun right, Y/n?”

Hearing your name from him is reminding you how close you both were yesterday and now those thoughts with these men’s piercing gaze is a lot for you.

“Ye-yes.” Even when he is having this cheerful personality still you are getting nervous in front of him. You need to get out of here. You turn towards Jeno catching him already staring at you.

“Jeno, please show my room. I would like to freshen up and unpack few things which I need for tomorrow.”

He nods and offers you to follow him towards the stairs. The feeling of two lingering stares are tingling you but knowing whose are those, you don’t look back but quickening your steps to follow the large steps of Jeno.

You were sure of getting a nice, cozy and big bedroom but never in a while you thought it to be this big, it’s such a luxurious one. Your shocked eyes are in awe with the room and the decorations are on point with the mixtures of the pastel colours with the proper blending of the colours of sheets and the curtains. The unique and elegant furnitures placed nicely at the exact places is having the exact soft vibes that you wish to come to home after each stressful day at work. They are really asking for much less money for such a lavish place. Now, the money is still a separate topic for you.

“Wow. This is so nice. Who has decorated it?” You are still in awe and touching everything so delicately as if it might break under your touch.

“Mostly Jaehyun as he has given his whole heart while preparing this room for you and me and Jaemin has helped him out with everything. Jaemin is very picky when it’s come to perfection so that’s all about.”

“I love it so much. Thanks for your time in preparing all these. It was not necessary but still I appreciate it so much.”

Even when you are happy that they have worked hard to prepare your room together, your mind still wonder where Mark was during all that time. Is he not liking that you will be staying here? Casting a glance at the man standing beside you, you sit on the edge of the bed and call his name, catching his attention and he looks up from his phone.

“What about Mark?”

He raises his brows, “What about him?”

“Does he not like me staying here? You said you all have done this then where was he?”

He fishes his phone inside and takes slow steps towards you, “well my pretty one, he is kind of busy with his meetings and overseas events so basically he is barely at home but he has some other surprises for you.”

“Other surprises?”

“I don’t know anything more other than this.” He stands in front, so close to you that you have to look up to meet his eyes. He leans down and you lean a bit back to give him space but that was not the deal. He cages you in his arms, his breaths fanning your shoulders, he whispers, “I see you are worrying about Mark when I’m right in front of you.”

Your hands move up to push him away when he takes a gentle hold of it and stare at your eyes, blinking between your eyes and lips. When you lick them, it seems more kissable and he is just trying his best to control himself. Your shocked eyes staring back at him.

“Jeno…”

“Am I not enough to worry for?” He asks you in a low throaty voice. Damn, you feel so under control with the voice that you feel like submitting yourself to him but again. It’s just you overthinking about their motives, they are just some huge flirts playing around with you and nothing is serious. You don’t know why but you just nod. Your heart racing and breath heaving due to this close proximity, you can feel him leaning down closer and anytime, he might can kiss you.

Just a few inches more, his breaths are slipping inside through your lightly parted lips and his hand holding your wrists has loosened. Your back is almost touching the sheets. You gulp but not stopping him and letting him. LETTING HIM TO KISS YOU.

Someone knocks at the door and your hands push him from over you. He stands straight and brushes his hair. He is half annoyed for getting interrupted by someone from the other side of the door who is continuously knocking and calling out your name.

“What happened, Jaemin?” Jeno asks his brother but maintaining an eye contact with you.

“What are you doing there? Let me have-“Jaemin got cut off when Jeno abruptly opens the door to which the other man who was leaning against it got stumbled.

“What the fuck man! I was about to fall.” He glares at the man who has opened the door but the latter has the same expression in return. He then turns towards you to see that you are having a flushed expression and faking a smile.

“Woah! Did I miss something? Why are you blushing? Did he-“

Jeno presses his palm over his brother’s mouth before dragging him out. It’s a little nice to see the brotherly bonding but you just got up and quickly close the door and leans to it, releasing a deep breath.

Am I that dumb?

You are letting them being so close to you. Not as a friend but more than that. Friends don’t pull you towards them and whispers and leans down to kiss you. You are just giving in to them and this is the thing that is not screaming inside you.

……….

One week. You had been given one week time to pay off the rent and you know that you are fucked up. You blamed yourself for infinite times why you have spent so much on those dresses and jewelleries which you don’t even know when you had last worn them. You are very calculative about your expenditure but you can’t help yourself in buying costly dresses and some useless stuffs for which you have to regret a lot, the way you are right now. Last month, you had a trip with your old town friends and that’s also the reason why you are having shortage of money. The rent for this month was already paid off to the previous owner so you were not worrying about that but you didn’t have in the plan to move to another place and pay your three months rent in advance. It’s a bit high in value than the previous but cheaper than the rest available on the site.

So, today in the end of the week, you have decided to have a talk with Jaehyun about the money. You are so nervous to meet him as you had promised him last time that you would pay him but now here you are now making your way to his room. You are just about to knock when you can hear a voice.

“What’s my love doing here?”

Turning around you are met with him, only in his jeans, drying his hair with the towel and oh gosh, he is shirtless. You quickly turn towards the door. You can hear his laugh and footsteps. Your hope of him going away crashes down when you feel him back-hugging you. Isn’t it too much for knowing you only just for one week?

“Mark, move.”

“Why? I like it this way.” His cold lips touching the warm skin of your neck, you are sure he just had a shower. You hold his hands around you and worryingly looking at the door. Jaehyun can open his door anytime but you don’t want him to see you like this in this state with Mark.

“We should not do this. Jaehyun might see us and- “

“He won’t be a problem here.” He plants a soft kiss and a shiver runs down your body and his nose nudges in your loose hair, inhaling your sweet scent. “But tell me, do you not like it?”

Do you? If not, then girl push him away. He is being a tease here. You don’t want him to take advantage of you being the only girl in this household. But it’s not like he is taking advantage as you are lowkey loving the way he is holding you tight in his embrace, his breath is the only air surrounding you and your brain fuzzing with the multiple thoughts. This little moment got interrupted with the opening of the door in front of both of you. You try to push him away but he holds you tighter.

“Y/n, what are you doing?” He takes in the view in front of him and clenches his jaw, brushing his hair back, he looks at Mark with raised eyebrow, “And Mark? You are here and also with her.”

“Jealous? Well, little missy was looking so tensed standing in front of your door so I thought to cheer her up and I guess we were having fun but you interrupted us.” Mark smirks in the end of his statement and rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Jaehyun…”

Mark stands straight and comes beside you and Jaehyun’s glares to his brother turns into a soft expression on hearing your sweet voice. “Yes?”

Mark leans to the wall beside the door frame but his eyes are still checking you out.

“I have something important to say.” You look between them and add “but with you alone.”

“Oh, come on dude, why can’t I be included here?”

“Mark, get the fuck out.” Jaehyun pushes him away when he tried to enter the room with you. As soon as he offered you to enter, he pushes the other one out despite his complains and shut the door.

“So, Y/n. What’s there bothering you?”

“Um, like you know today it was supposed to be me paying off the rent but I’m sorry that I couldn’t arrange for it.” You are looking down with guilt and fearing that he might say you to leave the house tomorrow but you are still hoping him to atleast consider your condition.

“Do you have any major problem?”

“no. its just I might have spent my money recklessly that now, when I’m in need I don’t have.”

He chuckles on your pout and grabs your shoulder, his dimples having an appearance, “So, how much time do you need until you can arrange for it?”

“By the end of this month. When I will get my pay-check in hand, I would definitely pay you.”

“And if you can’t?” He is staring deeply in your orbs.

“I will do anything for you. Just don’t kick me out this house.”

“Anything?”

You pause for a moment and lick your lips. His eyes read your every little reaction and shifting your hands on his wrist.

“Yes.”

...............

Living with these four men is an adventure for you. Most of the daytime, you all are out of the house, having separate lives at your own workplaces but the rest of the day is crossing paths with them often. You haven’t been friends with boys ever in your life but living with four men is a thing no one would have ever expected from you, not even you. So, it’s giving you a new experience and that’s being sexually frustrated around them. You haven’t been laid before and their playful touches, them being close to you and handling you as they want and them flirting with their seductive voices is not helping the condition. Everything is becoming too much for you, they are well aware of your irritated self when they are teasing you and leaving you high and dry but who are you to complain about this. Even if you haven’t been experienced this, it’s not like you are going to miss this once in a blue moon opportunity to slip through your hands. You are skill-fully wearing skirts higher often and you know their hawk eyes following you all around the house. You are well aware of the mischievous and not so pleasant thoughts running through your mind. Sometimes whenever you catch them looking at you, you run off but secretly you smile to yourself. They sometimes even sneak inside your bedroom at night and the reason is that they are bored and they want you to spend time with them and you happily have your time with them either watching movies or going out for long drives and walking.

You never had so comfort and peace coming back from work, either one of them will always prepare the food for you and the other would prepare the bath for you and you really appreciate it so much. You all have become close in these few days so much as if you know each other for a long time, maybe that’s the perk of having roommates. Always, one of them tries to come home early before than you so you don’t have to come to home alone. Standing at the entrance, smiling widely with some gifts. Yeah, it’s their habit of gifting you something or the other. Sometimes, it’s just a chocolate or an earring or any makeup products or dresses. You have told them several times not to spend so much but Jaehyun is always ending the conversation.

“You aren’t going to tell me what to do for my baby.”

And Mark giving you his infamous smirk. Well, previously it was the conclusion you had that Mark is the biggest pervert and flirt in this household but you were so wrong when you noticed some change in behaviour with Jeno and Jaemin. Jeno has a complicated personality, if he wants to be sweet with you, he will smile softly, giving you little hugs and asks you if you need something but if he is frustrated with something, maybe due to your endless teasing them with you walking around the house being so oblivious of their stares, he would have a tough façade like asking you why you are suddenly so late coming from your work, why you are wearing this particular dress, why you are being a bad girl. Bad girl? Now that’s a thing which you often hear from Jaemin as well, this guy is always having an expression which you can’t decipher whether it’s a smirk or a teasing smile. He would always be smiling at you but the words coming out his mouth are just in contrast with it.

Jaehyun is the eldest one so he is a bit secretive with his behaviour but you know his eyes are always on you, only you. If he ever offers you a glass of water or a cup of coffee, his fingers would brush over yours while handing over the cup to you and him maintaining the eye contact all the way until you are finishing your drink. Mark again had another meeting at your office and he specially wanted your presence in the meeting and you know the reason, just to ask you stupid questions and to show people that you know each other more than others. It’s very common these past days for him to give you rides to your office.

Surprisingly, they even brought you to an official meeting to a grand cuisine. You first thought that they were joking but it’s so clear when Mark handed you a red dress to wear.

“Well, I would not have bought it if we were joking. So sorry that I wasn’t being the part to decorate the room and your welcome party but this is my little gift to you.”

That was not the only thing as he suddenly puts a diamond teardrop necklace around your neck.

“What’s this for?” You ask him while touching the expensive item on you.

“To let others know that you are ours.”

Ours. You are hearing this term a lot from them even also today before they went out for meeting. Yes, today is the day when you are supposed to pay off the rent and you would be cleared of all the debts and the tension of owing them would be gone. But the message popped up on your phone screen was not really expected. Jeno has texted you that they wont be coming back home tonight as they are stuck at the place due to the bad weather so they would be returning the next day maybe at afternoon or evening. You have a pout on reading the texts. Even others have texted the same following him. Without caring about much of your diet, you grab some snacks and binge watched some shows whole night.

It is late afternoon when you hear the unlocking of the front door and you know that they are finally back. You got down the stairs quickly to greet them back but uh oh. Why are they looking at you like that? Oh gosh! You are only in your oversized t-shirt hanging loose on your frame and now you realised that how you fell asleep during dawn after binge watching whole night. They are still in their business suites must be tired but still managing to look the best out of all and here you are despite being home, looks more messed up than them.

“What were you doing?” Mark asks you while taking off his coat and placing it on top of the sofa.

“I-I was sleeping.”

Jaehyun asks you in worry, “Did we wake you up?”

“No no. I was just awake when I heard the door. I’m sleeping for so long since morning and I must be stinking.”

“Why? Are you sick?” Jaemin is already ready to call the doctor.

“No, I was bored last night and binged watched some shows and it went like that.”

Jeno scoffs, “Again watching those stupid dramas.”

“Hey!” You try to protest against him to which he raises his brow and smirks, but suddenly you remember an important thing and speak out loudly catching their attention, well it was already on you anyways. “I got the money for the rent. I will give it you right now.”

When you turn back, Mark speaks up, “Let us all freshen up and then we can talk about that.”

There is nothing to talk about but still you nod and go to your room as you need to do your routines as well.

After almost two hours, you got a text from Jaehyun asking you to come to his room. You took the money from on top of the night stand and skipped to his room. You knock on the door and call out his name but no response. First of all, it was weird to send you text when he is just in the other room away few steps across from yours. Again, the next thing is his text was just not even two minutes ago and now he suddenly not replying you. Did he just leave? Hearing some shuffles from inside, you push open the door. You are met with darkness and search for the switches to turn it on.

“Jaehyun, are you there?”

Silence.

“Jaehyun…”

You feel someone wraps their hand from behind and resting their face in the crook of your neck. Wet sloppy kisses and nose lightly tapping your ear. You feel hands tightening around you and teeth nibling on your skin. still STILL you are not protesting it. You know his cologne and his touch well as everyday he is the one who offers you the morning coffee.

“You smell so sweet.” He whispers in your ears, biting it lightly before kissing down the jaw. “tell me to stop.”

“I brought the money.”

Someone stands in front of you and takes the envelope from your hand. “I don’t think this is the actual amount.”

“Yes that is. that is the amount of three months.”

Pushing away the hairs to the other side, he mumbles on your shoulder, “No. That’s not. You were supposed to give it yesterday but now you are late for one whole day. So, you have to pay the interest.”

“What? But you all were not there.”

“Uh ah. It is what it is.” The person before you, speaks up and well that laugh following in the end of his statement is making it obvious that he is Mark.

Jaehyun is still mumbling sweet words to you and most commonly ‘my baby’.

“You said you are going to do anything if you can’t pay the money on time so, will you?”

“But-“ Someone turns on a dim light inside the room. Mark holds your chin to make you look up, “Will you?”

“….yes.”

Yes what? What are you agreeing for? Just run out of the room. Jaemin emerges from the bathroom and his smirks following his eyes scanning your whole body just in shorts and a loose t-shirt. He comes beside Mark to get the envelope and places it on top of a table. Jaehyun has the best view of the outside from his room and your eyes watching it when it got interrupted by when Mark pulls your face closer.

“Tell us to stop.”

You didn’t. You didn’t even dare to look away from his big round hipnotising eyes. His thumbs brushing your lips so delicately as if it’s made of glass. Mark leans down but pauses when he is just a breath away from your lips. You are aching for him to kiss but this man knows how to tease and his damn smirk on seeing you frustrated.

“Just kiss me already.”

His eyes take in the every detail of your face, admiring you up so close even when he teases you every day but not like this when you are so turned on and frustrated for him and your body aching for his lips. With a last look, he closes the distance between your lips. His kiss starts with the soft movements and slow rhythm as if he is calculating his next step but soon it turned into teeth clashing with each other, hands gripping tightly on your neck leaving marks and you can feel Jaehyun has retreated himself. Kiss is heating up and you can feel him smiling in the kiss when his other hand snakes under your tee only to find out you are not wearing anything.

“No bra?”

You are really embarrassed. You didn’t think about earlier to be in this situation when he called you in his room. You thought to just give him the money and go back to your room. Thinking, they must have been tired from last day and craving for some sleep but all you can see is them craving for something else. His hand messages one of your breasts and other one adjusting the position of your face to get a better access.

You part your lips from Mark to take a deep inhale when he flicks your nipple. You feel someone playing with your waistband and you look to your back to see Jaehyun smiling down at you.

“Tell me to stop.” When he sees you with no sign of stopping him, he chuckles, “I will then take that as a yes.”

Tell him to stop for what? You generally don’t know anything about this. You haven’t been fucked by anyone before but this new sensation is really exciting you when you are under the watch of four set of eyes. You know once you are into this then you cant escape it but when you are enjoying this too much then why to stop it all of a sudden.

Jaehyun’s hand disappear into your shorts and he chuckles darkly in your ears, “I see you are wet for me.”

“For us.” Mark adds while pumping both of your breasts, earning low moans out of you.

Jeno brings his attention towards him to your side, cupping the jaw tightly and you know, it’s turning red under his hold. His dark eyes staring down at you, “I see you are so in need of us like we are for you.”

You nod in compliance without any hesitation and that’s when he crashes his lips on you. He doesn’t want to waste time on going softly and his aggressiveness is all visible in the kiss, so out of rhythm but still you are enjoying it. Not sure how long you’ve been kissing for, only until Jeno tugs on your hair and pulls you closer to him. You are so lost in the kiss that you didn’t notice when Mark has put down your shorts along with his t-shirt and pants.

“Jeno, get the fuck off. It’s my turn to taste the sweet lips.” Jaemin complains from his place while leaning against a wall.

“Shut up.”

Parting from the kiss, you can feel the palm cupping your mound and pressing it tightly. You whimper and clutch Mark’s bare shoulder.

“Jaehyun….”

“You like it huh!” His deep voice whispering in your ears and fingers rubbing your clothed heat is earning moans out of you. As soon as Jeno turns his head, he is shoved off by Jaemin, who even pushed Mark aside to cup your face in his palms.

“I just want to fuck you so bad and show them that only I can make you scream and feel the best.” Jaemin made others growl with his statement. He is not getting fazed by it but getting lost with you, with the feel that you are finally in his hands and that all flushed up and turned on.

“Don’t be a jerk right now, Jaemin” Jeno growls.

Jaemin gives you small pecks, giving kitten licks to your lips before sucking them so hard that they appear thick jelly. Being satisfied, he starts kissing you. He is almost eating your half of the face, not caring how your hands holding his biceps tightly with every bite of his on your lips and every tight press on your heat by the other person’s hand. You are feeling a tickling sensation in your stomach when Jaehyun rips of his hand leaving you whimpering in Jaemin’s hold.

He goes to sit on the edge of the bed and calls out to Jaemin to give others chance. Others laugh when you whine in losing every contact from your body. Your heated up body aching for everything, for their touch, for them to ruin you. You are insane for them at this point.

Jaehyun signals you to sit on his lap and obediently you follow him, sitting on him and placing your hands around his neck. His hand comes up to brush your hairs and play with them and you smile at him.

“You are so beautiful and the prettiest baby.” Curling some strands around his fingers, “I just want to ruin you and see this pretty face begging me to stop until you are at the mercy of hell.”

“And what if I want to be ruined?”

His shocked eyes staring back at you. He never thought of you replying back to him like this but having you like this is making him go hard. He is in his boxers and if you look around the room, they all are except Jeno whose shirt is unbuttoned and showing the abs.

“I see you are liking it so much that your little mouth is talking back.”

Jaemin had it enough, “now when it’s your turn, you all are taking time as if we got one long week to fuck her continuously but when it’s mine, you are hurrying up as if we going to run late for 9 to 5 job and we would be fired on being late.”

Mark chuckles before patting him, “it’s okay my dear brother. You will be getting your chance and we won’t be interrupting again.”

Your mind was off to the place where the two brothers were slightly bickering when you feel Jaehyun biting your neck and trailing juicy kisses all over the throat and jaw. His hands slides inside the tee to play with your nipples, flicking them, rolling between his fingers. Your every shift on his lap is earning a groan from him as his clothed painful tip is getting brushed by your wet clothed heat. He brings his lips to yours and bite it down before hungrily kissing it. You are a mess of whimpers and moans and it’s like music to them. He is giving equal attention to both of your breasts and pumping so hard that you gasp in the kiss.

The others are getting hard with the view unfolding in front of them. There is shuffle on the bed behind Jaehyun and when you both break the kiss, you see Mark sitting against the headboard with legs wide spread in front.

“Now come here.”

Jaehyun pats your cheek before placing you on the bed beside him, you crawl to Mark and when you try to sit on his lap, he turns you around and places between his legs, facing to others.

“This is nice. They can have a great show ahead.”

He pulls your shirt up even when you hesitate but he simply held you down and rips the tee off from you. Your hands automatically comes in action to hide yourself but he pins them down behind your back.

“Don’t even dare to go against me.” He guides your hand over his length and wraps your fingers around it, he groans on feeling your soft warm hand around his thick hardened dick.

“Ah fuck! Keep going.” He moans in your ears.

Jeno got on the bed and Jaehyun still sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at you hungrily. Jeno comes in front of you and pecks you before sliding your panty down.

“You are perfect for us.”

Mark slides a finger in,Jeno bent down to lace his mouth with your exposed breast. You whimper with both of them toying with you. Marks fingers pumping in and out of you and Jeno’s tongue licking your hard nipples, pulling them between his teeth and then sucking the whole. You are already a mess just under their mouth and fingers

Jeno’s other hand grabs your other breast giving it a squeeze and you moan out his name when Mark slaps your pussy for not getting the attention. Jeno’s saliva trailing down your chest to stomach and Marks pace increases with the addition of fingers. Your body arch with the pleasure running down your veins, you hum and moan dreamily.

“Are you near?” Mark asks you planting a kiss on your cheek. You nod to him and hand squeezes his cock. He pushes your hands off from him.

“Words, love.”

“Yes yes. I want to come. Please.”

“That’s a good one. Cum for me.”

As soon as his words fall from the lips, you scream out his name for the first orgasm of the night. They all have the satisfactory smile on their faces. You come on his fingers and Mark licks the fingers before turning you around and Jeno sit up on his knees and Jaehyun pats his back.

Jaemin in the other hand watching you with hooded eyes and hand stroking his length and imagining you doing it.

Mark pats your head and smiles at you, “ride me.” You haven’t look at him up so closely before but he has the youthfulness and attractive smile. His doe eyes and flawless skin is a perfect addition to his charming face. He is kind of cute and a soft one when it comes to sex.

You grind on his thigh on hearing his words before placing yourself on the length. You hiss and cry out with the stretch but he slowly guides you and shush you with massaging your sides. Your eyes closed tightly and the pain making your whole body still.

“It’s okay love. You can do it. Just move, the pain will go away.”

You did as he told you and slowly slowly the pain is turning into pleasure. You haven’t fully got off the high from the previous orgasm but still having the feel of the building of knot in your stomach. The burning sensation of the stretch is still there but blinding by the sensation of you reaching to your climax.

“Fuck, you are so tight and feels so good. A perfect one for me.” He taps on your thigh, “eyes on me. I want to see you coming.”

Few more thrusts hitting the exact spot, your body shakes for the release and you come undone following him. You lay on top of his chest when he flips your position and kissed you.

Mark pulls out from you and Jeno shoved him aside.

“Such a pretty one, laying down all fucked up and ready for me. I want to see you crying and whimper under me.”

Your mind not registering what he is saying but your body got so sensitive when he hovers on top of you, watching you like an animal watching his prey. Your hands go up to touch his face, he quickly gets a hold of it and guides them to his abs. Your fingers tracing every bumps until it goes down to touch his hard painful dick, he holds your wrists and pins them above your head.

Inhaling your scent in the neck, he parts your legs wide enough to place himself. His other hand tracing your curves and rubbing your thighs and toying your leaking entrance with his tip. Your whimpers and whines earning smirk and chuckles from him. Your hips raising up to get in touch with his dick is amusing him. Your sobs are a great view to them. Mark is again hard seeing you like this.

“Be ready for me princess. I won’t be gentle like Mark.”

With that he enters your entrance without any warning, your loud moans filling up the entire room and them watching you falling apart under their merciless brother.

“You feel so good. Fuck! I’m getting addicted to it. I can’t even get enough of you.” He growls with his inhumane pace. He didn’t even let you to adjust before he starts moving. You can feel him much bigger than Mark and it’s already too much for you. Getting laid for the first time and having used by four of them is excess.

His tip hits your g-spot and you scream on the sensation. He smirks at your reaction and starts to whisper filthy stuffs in your ears, making you clench around him.

“Jeno please slow down.” Tears rolling down your eyes but he doesn’t have any care but still pushing himself inside of you. You can feel his tip poking your stomach.

“Please, slow down.”

Ignoring you, he is slamming into your pussy with you begging under him and clutching his hands under his entangled hold. Veins popping on his forehead is making him more hot.

“I know you want to cum. So cum for me.”

You let it loose with a scream of his name and soon he cum inside of you. The cumming of him inside of you is a different sensation and it’s turning you on more and heating up your body, fuzzing your mind. The overstimulation is making you whine and soon you both ride out your high.

He slowly pulls it out. Your hands clutching the bedsheet and pulling it, toes curling with the sensation of being overwhelmed. Your whole body is sensitive. Each touch is like an igniting tip. Jaehyun taps your cheek, “are you still here?”

You hum in response and he smiles in satisfaction.

“On hands and knees baby. I would like to see how your ass fits me in.”

“W-What?” You stammer.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Jaehyun assures you. “It’ll feel good, you just have to trust us. You can be a good girl for us tonight, right?”

“I-I don’t think I’m r-ready for this-“

“You are,” Jaehyun soothes. “Don’t worry.”

“No no please. I can’t take anymore and this…I can’t do it please.”

Your protests were deaf to their ears when Jaemin shifts you to the desired position with your ass pointing exactly in front of Jaehyun’s dick. He is using his arousal as the lube around his cock and slams inside of you. You cry out but not for long as Jaemin slammed his cock inside your mouth.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Jaehyun hisses and hold your hip still. “Your ass is taking me so well and as if it’s made for me.”

You whine around Jaemin’s cock and when he doesn’t got any reply, Jaehyun spanks your ass leaving a red mark of his handprint.

The stretch is so painful and tears continuously falling down your face at the feeling. Jaehyun is spanking you to see the vibrating muscles of your ass and the red marks urging him to thrust deeper. His has started with rhythmic thrust with Jaemin but soon became uneven.

“So good, you’re doing so good.” Jaemin praises. “Your mouth feels so warm and I want you to suck me everyday. You will do it, right?”

You didn’t reply but nod with his cock deep down your throat, choking you. Jaehyun spits on his dick and slams harder. You can feel him hitting your sweet spot.

“Can’t reply huh?”

Jaehyun chuckles, “don’t be mean Jaemin. She is stuffed with your cock inside her mouth. What do you expect?”

Jaemin grabs your hairs in a fist and pushes your face closer to him. Aggressively thrusting inside your mouth, he pulls out leaving you gasping for air.

“Open your mouth wide and close your eyes.”

You don’t have any room to protest so you did as he told you. Then you can feel hot liquid pouring inside your mouth and hitting your face, slipping to your jaw throat and chest, mixing with your sweats.

“No more…please…I can’t.”

Jaemin pats your cheek and plants a kiss on top of your head.

Jaehyun is still reaching his climax and you are about to cum.

“I’m near.”

“Hold it.”

“No no I can’t. I want to cum.”

“Either you are holding it in or you are not cumming tonight.”

Your exhausted body couldn’t protest anymore. Your cries are interrupted when Mark enters his finger inside your moth shushing you.

“It’s okay. It’s the last one and you can do it.”

Jaemin and Jeno playing with your nipples from both the sides leaving you a moaning mess. Jaehyun’s thumb rubbing your clit, igniting your climax. You are speaking gibberish and they don’t mind it. Every last muscle of your body is holding you back . You are sucking on Mark’s fingers for dear life.

“Cum for me baby.”

He couldn’t even complete his sentence that your whole body shakes under their hold. Them squeezed your nipples and Jaehyun spanked you again, Mark pushed his fingers deeper making you choke on them. You are still moaning out Jaehyun’s name around Mark’s fingers.

Jaehyun soon cum inside you and slowly rides out his high. As soon as they felt your body giving up. They stop their action and puts you in the middle of the bed, laying on your back. Your droopy eyes trying to open but Mark places his palm over them.

“Shh…close it. Jaemin is preparing a bath for us and maybe we can have round 2.”

You almost whisper it out, “no please I can’t.”

“Hey, I’m kidding. He is just preparing the bath for us to get freshen up. Me and Jeno will clean up so don’t worry and take rest.”

You turn towards Jeno, “you all came inside me. Did you have the protection?”

“Of course not. Why do we need that? When we can take care of you and our baby?”

You got shocked, “baby? I don’t want to get pregnant. We just had this with the flow. We are not married. We can’t have a baby.”

Mark brushing the hair away and pulling a cover on top of you, smiling down at you “if after this you are still not pregnant then we have to try again.”

“What?”

“You are ours and the baby is ours too. So you don’t have a say here.” Jeno proudly says.

Jaehyun comes behind Mark, “if the marriage is the only thing holding us back then we will arrange for it soon.”

“No. This is not right.” You add, “And what about my rent?”

“Your rent was paid on the day when you first stepped your foot here for the first time.” Jeno states.

“What are you saying?”

“Don’t overthink now. We can discuss this later. Have some rest. Atleast, for now you are our responsibility.” Mark cooes you to sleep. Your exhausted body couldn’t manage to protest much and fell into sleep.

.

.

.

.

Jaemin emerges from the bathroom watching how his brothers staring at your sleeping figure.

“Is she sleeping?”

“Yeah, having so many thoughts inside her little brain but anyways they are not needed to be answered.” Jeno says and smiles at his brother.

“So my plan to bribe her house owner was good. We got her for ourselves after waiting for four years and scaring every boy whoever tried to approach her.”

Mark chuckles, “I was getting annoyed with watching her from afar every day. Everyday the scene from the party flashed in front of me of the day where we saw her for the first time. And I knew I need to get her.”

Jeno nods on agreeing with his brother. He could feel How it was painful and frustrating to see you everyday but couldn’t get near you unless they came up with this nice plan and that you are in their cage. You are not going to escape it soon.

“So, my plan worked for the best. Honestly, you all were great in acting on the first day.”

Jaemin smirks, “of course, Jaehyun.”

You are in a new place, not homeless but inside a cage. Do you want to escape or stay with them?

[ please do tell me whether you liked or not? If you liked it then please give it a reblog in appreciation.]

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[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. ii

hi. this is max's lawyer speaking. please don't get mad at her for this part. she asked me to let you know that she loves you all and hopes that you trust her. sincerely, jimmy mcgill

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you're pregnant with joel miller's kid. he's dating someone else. you deal with it.

warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy stuff like nausea (none of the v word, y'all are safe with me), ultrasound scene set in a hospital, anxiety and guilt surrounding pregnancy, description of body change/growth, brief and i mean brief discussion of abortion, joel is dating someone who isn't reader, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), reader has no physical description save for hair, cursing, genderless use of buddy when referring to baby, joel kisses someone who is not his partner, mention of alcohol, disturbing & semi-graphic nightmare about being involved in car accident, reader has a panic attack, discussion of dead parents, fluff and the beginnings of angst DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there's ever anything you feel i've missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 9.2k

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

“I know, I know,” Joel holds a palm up, “it’s nine thirty. I know. But I had to lug all this wood over here, and it – You okay?”

You realize when he pauses that you’re gaping at him, wide-eyed and frozen in place behind your front door. Your jaw hinges shut, a gulp like carpet burn down your throat. You didn’t hear a word he just said.

How does he know? He can’t possibly. Did he sense it, from two lawns away? Dream about the binding of cells, the furnace left lit in your body from that night? The embers still floating, just waiting to catch to life again?

Did he do the fucking math, the way you probably should’ve? How does he fucking know?

The minute the question leaves your mouth, you regret it.

Joel’s eyebrows drop. “How did I know what, kid? That you need new closets? Like you ain’t been nipping my ear about ‘em for weeks?”

Your eyes unlock from his and shift to the slats of wood leaning against the balustrade. The toolbox hanging from his fist. The worn jeans and the white dust marks on his thighs. He doesn’t fucking know, you idiot.

Joel steps forward. Takes your wrist. One grounding, steady hand around your thrashing pulse. “You’re freaking me out. What the hell’s –?”

“Nothing,” you chirp, remembering. The closet. The deal. The fucking – the deal. You withdraw your arm. Hidden up your sleeve, quickly slipping out of his grasp, is the news that his life is about to change forever.

Maybe. You don’t fucking know.

“No,” you continue, blinking the burn of sunlight from your vision, “I just – I forgot. Sorry. Come in. Sorry.”

“Quit sayin’ sorry,” he mutters, eyeing you suspiciously. He lifts a foot and hovers it over the threshold, hesitating. Like the first step across a minefield; instinct telling him to tread carefully.

And you swear an oath to yourself, swear it on your own life: if he doesn’t put the heel of his boot in your hallway, if he turns around right now whether because his instinct is razor sharp, or because he forgot his lucky screwdriver, or purely because he needs to take a fucking leak before he gets started – you will never tell him. He will never know.

If his intuition is that good, he’ll turn around and never show up on your porch again. If he has any sense, he’ll forget any of this ever happened. Deal off.

“How’s the stomach?” Joel asks, sole still three inches from wood.

“What?” you bleat, your heel knocking against the bottom stair. It’s a little more panicked than you intended.

“Yesterday,” a crease forms between his brows, “you said you had a weird stomach. That any better?”

Oh, you think, and as you open your mouth to reply, his foot hits the ground. No answer needed. He was coming in whether you tried to deter him or not.

“Oh, yeah. It’s – Well, it’s better than it was. I think I worked it out,” you grimace, tongue curling under the tinge of anxiety and – well. “Thanks,” you add, noticing the brisk cut of your replies.

The heavy thud of his footsteps follows you upstairs, blunt on the carpet as you lead him up. Joel sets the toolbox down and casts your room a quick glance, snapping back to you as soon as you notice him.

You tug on the corner of the bedsheets, a heat bubbling beneath your cheeks. Something shy and self-conscious, all of a sudden. The reality that you don’t feel close enough to this man to share the anatomy of your room with him, mixed with the knowledge that the two of you are, now and forever, bound by the anatomy of something a little more significant than dirty laundry and dusty wardrobes.

A little closer than most humans get, let’s say.

“You want a coffee or something?” you ask, crossing your arms and leaning back against the window sill.

“You havin’ one?”

“Sure. Wait – actually –” Can you have coffee whilst pregnant? A woman at work quit it altogether when she fell pregnant with her son. Fuck. “I’m – No. I’m good. But let me go make you one.”

Joel shakes his head, amused. Screwdriver burrowing into a door hinge already. He flashes you a tickled grin. “I’m good just now, kid. Wait until you’re makin’ one. Thanks.”

You lift a shoulder. “Welcome.”

His eyes flit from the twist of silver to your hunched shoulders, your arms crossed protectively over your chest. “You gonna stand there ‘n watch me all day? You my foreman now?”

“Sure,” you reply, and he laughs. You sniff, twisting your foot into the carpet. The plastic test itches against your skin; you can feel the two lines ripping into your wrist like tiny burns. “I can go, if you want.”

His lip turns, musing. A quick flick of his jaw. “You’re good company, all in all.”

Metal clanking against metal; fingers knuckle-deep in the toolbox. You can hear the harsh sound across your body, like the point of screws and bite of rust are actually scoring your skin. The groan of a near-fifty-year-old man rising to rip a decades-old door from its home. The creak of wood as it splits.

Everything so heightened that it’s actually painful.

Joel straightens up and pauses, turning his screwdriver between his fingers. “Are we –? We’re good, right?”

“Good?”

“Yeah. You’d tell me if things were weird?”

“Why would things be weird?”

His answer scrawls itself across his face. Your response scoffs from your lips.

“I just,” Joel sighs, “I feel like something might be off with ya. Maybe you just ain’t feelin’ too hot. But you’re quiet.”

“Quiet,” you whisper, palms locking heavily against your biceps. More defensive than convincing.

“Yeah. You usually annoy the hell outta me.”

Over your shoulder, Alice Brown waddles down her driveway, eyeing her flowerbeds. She pauses when Diane’s station wagon pulls up across the street; stands motionless as she watches the round figure climb out and totter to her own front door.

“Just – not in a very annoying mood, I guess,” you offer, staring at the white head of hair fluttering in the breeze. The glint of a trowel in her hand.

Joel’s chin lifts. He studies you, tongue tracing the ridges of his teeth. And then he’s nearing you, turning until you’re shoulder to shoulder, two silhouettes stood against the bright square of blue sky inside your window frame. His arms crossed; his stare fixed.

The words begin to boil in your stomach. Violent bubbles against the wall of your midriff. Rising like steam, fading into nothingness over your tongue, the sting of heat where your voice won’t collect them.

Joel moves from foot to foot. It feels like some kind of merry dance, some choreographed moment between you – like a skit in a comedy show. I know something you don’t know.

“What happened – at the wedding,” he murmurs, addressing the polished gold of your bedframe.

Some small sound passes your lips. An affirmative. You’re on the same page.

“We didn’t use – you know. And with you not feelin’ well, it’s…” A deep breath. Chest full of a ghostly bravery. And then he asks, “Are you –?”

Silence swallows the end of his question whole. You didn’t need it, anyway. The stiffness of his frame, his stare shooting straight ahead. The lack of oxygen between you – both holding your breath for fear that something might tear loose from your lungs. He knows. He knows he knows he knows.

You gulp. “…If I was?”

His head cranes upwards, focusing on the cracked plaster of your ceiling. The realization slowly trickling down over his skin. It hasn’t seeped through, hasn’t bled into his brain yet. “Then,” another breath, “then it’d be a conversation…” His voice is halved, split somewhere between knowing and – what is it? Hoping?

Your eyes slip over to the worn sleeve of his T-shirt, stretched around the swell of his bicep; scaling up to his shoulder, the tight set of his jaw. He’s so much taller, he’s so much older. There’s so much life lived and so many lessons learned behind his eyes that you wonder how much the news I’m pregnant would actually crack him.

Your eyes meet. You whisper, “Then – talk,” and his expression softens.

He blinks away whatever’s left of his trying, his polite attempts to skirt around it. He sheds probably a good three decades – turns back into some doe-eyed boy, wonderstruck and terrified. His voice is quiet, and at the same time, the heaviest with emotion you’ve ever heard it. “Are you?” he asks, and immediately, he blurs behind a wall of tears.

Your sentence gets caught in your teeth. It made no sense to begin with. Tangled between your molars, latching at the back of your tongue. Your hand slowly pulls free from your sleeve, the little white test between your fingers.

Joel’s eyes instantly drop, staring at the pale stick with a fraught expression you understand to mean the message has finally reached his brain. The same words now ringing between his ears: She’s pregnant. She’s pregnant. I got her pregnant.

You hold the test out, quivering in the daylight. He takes it in his thumbs, instantly soothing its tremble. Everything muted, every movement steady and considered. And suddenly the sight of that positive test feels less scary, in his hands. Feels like a smaller problem, if that were ever possible.

And he says nothing, and it’s almost unbearable to watch the shape of his lips thin, the shadow beneath his brows darken. Agonizing to stand here and wonder what the next words over his tongue will be.

He stares at it a moment longer. You count the beats of your pulse in your throat. You wrap your arms tighter around your body, holding your skeleton together.

Joel’s lips part. Your breath freezes. Whatever he says, you don’t want to miss a syllable.

“Are you –” he blinks, “– are you feelin’ okay?”

You stare blankly. His eyes finally lift.

“What?”

“Are you feeling okay?”

Your head jerks. “I’m – I’m fine. I mean, I’m fucking shocked.”

He nods. “How long have you known?”

“Took that right before you showed up,” you say, eyes diving to his hands. “Twenty minutes, maybe.”

He’s still switching between you and the test. Checking those two lines are still there, as if they might fade to nothing, and then checking you’re still there – as if you might, too. Might be swept off if he’s not keeping an eye on you.

His face pales. He sinks back against the window ledge. “Jesus,” he breathes, a hand down the scruff of his chin.

And it feels like relief, like a mirror sat before you, presenting the honest truth: you’re fucked, and Joel thinks so, too. It embeds the shock into the cushion of your brain, the weight of it absorbed and laid bare for every particle in your body to pay it a visit. What the fuck do we do now?

“Yeah,” you sniff, “Jesus.”

But then his arm wraps around your shoulder, reminding you you’re still solid. Still whole. He holds you to his side, and when you turn into him, he takes you in the other and pulls you flat against his chest. His lips to your hair. His breathing slowing yours.

“We’re gonna work it out,” he says into your hair. “We’re gonna – Jesus, I did not expect…We are goin’ to be fine, alright? You are goin’ to be fine.”

You’re nodding, the prickle of tears flooding across your eyes again. They’re doing nothing, his words – blunt against your skin and insignificant to the fear swelling around your heart – but it feels better to be afraid with someone. Feels better to hold onto something stronger, something bigger, while you feel yourself beginning to shrink.

“What do we do?” you ask into his shirt.

Joel loosens his grip, pulls away until you’re staring at one another. “What do you wanna do?”

“I don’t…” Your head’s shaking, lips moving quicker than your voice will offer the words over. “I don’t think I want to get rid of it.”

He nods, a hand coming up to hold your cheek. “Alright. Then you don’t have to. You don’t gotta do anythin’ you’re not comfortable with.”

“But,” you sniff, guiltily averting his gaze, “this fucks everything up. Everything’s about to change.”

Joel takes a long, slow breath. “It complicates some things, that’s for sure.” He looks out to the street; Alice Brown now hauling weeds from the edge of her lawn. In his exhale, he breathes a name.

“V…What?”

He looks down. Eyes dance around your damp cheeks. “Vanessa,” he says, clearer now.

“Vanessa?”

A nod. His nose wriggles with an awkward sniff. You push off from his chest.

“Who the hell is Vanessa?”

Joel lets you go; lets you step back. He watches as you brace yourself against the ledge. Runs a hand through his hair while he fixes the right order of words. He’s thinking. Carefully.

Too fucking carefully. He’s taking too long.

“Joel. Who’s Vanessa?”

“She’s…” He sighs. “She’s my ex. From Tommy’s wedding. Vanessa Hart.”

Your jaw slackens. The purple dress. The hair like silk, a halo around her head where the light kissed her perfectly. Her plump lips; the way her head tipped back to laugh. The amount of air you felt her take up the second you laid eyes on her, the second you saw her, arm on top of Joel’s.

“Vanessa,” you whisper, your eyes descending his frame. The memory feels menacing now: her sweet giggle a sneering cackle, and you’ve no idea why. The bulky jewels around her neck, her clawed fingers on his arm.

Joel’s hand sits inches from yours on the wooden sill. Alice is walking back inside.

“We, uh…we swapped numbers the morning after the wedding, at breakfast. I didn’t think much of it, but we’ve seen each other a couple times since.”

This isn’t the time for another it’s a date, it’s not a date argument. What the fuck does he mean by –

“Seen each other?”

“Mhm.” He owes you better than that. He reckons so, too. “Dates,” he clarifies. “We’ve been on a couple dates.”

“Oh.”

Your heart falls to the pit of your stomach. Plummets, dragging with it your breath and your nerve and any other words you can think of. Your chest gnaws at the edges of the cavity left behind. It hurts. It stings.

Though you’ve no right for it to hurt or sting: as far as you were concerned, as far as you think Joel was concerned, that night was a one-off. It meant as little as the alcohol draining from your glasses, the vacant buzz of love and hope loose in the air. Equally as intoxicating as each other.

Cataclysmic, for the first little while. So heavily awkward that you would wait to watch Joel head out in the morning, clear of your path, before you’d set off for work. It felt like the aftermath of some natural disaster – the cleanup of debris and mistake.

But oh, it feels like a punch to the gut. Low, unexpected; a foul move by someone who never meant to hurt or not hurt you. Someone ignorant to every move he made, right up to this moment.

Your arms wrap around your body again, as though tending to the bruise left by the sucker punch shaped something like that tall woman named Vanessa.

Joel scratches the back of his neck. “We were…we were seein’ about starting things up again. Me ‘n her.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “I got you. That’s – I mean, I’m – I’m sorry, Joel, I –”

“Woah, woah,” he’s stepping forward now, “hey, no. No way. This wasn’t you. Well, shoot – it kinda was you. But it was just as much me, right?”

You smile, your face back in the safe hold of his hands. Tears roll down your cheeks, collecting in the corners of your mouth. His thumbs swipe them away.

“This was just as much me,” he repeats, voice soft and soothing.

“But, you know – if you wanted to – just ‘cause I don’t want to get – so if you didn’t wanna have to – that’d be okay, you know that, right?”

His head snaps back, brows low. It’s the first time he looks like his cool has broken all morning. It’s the first time he looks…downright offended. “Are you kidding me?” he asks, and then, “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I just – I know this ain’t ideal. It’s even worse if you’re tryna make it work with Vanessa. So if you felt like it was too much, then…”

Joel shakes his head. “Shut up,” he says, edged with some kind of groan. “Stop talking, right now. Stop. You gotta take a deep breath, alright? I’m here, ‘n I mean I’m here. We’re in this together. I am not running out on you.”

“Joel –”

What was a mere crack in his cool before, rips through it now like lightning spreading across the sky. He closes his eyes, a sigh escaping between his teeth. “If you think I would leave you right now, to deal with this on your own –”

“I don’t,” you tell him, his vexation powering your sudden animation. You wipe your tears away, shaking your head. “I’m just saying, it’s a fucking lot. I don’t want you to feel trapped. I’m giving you an out, man.”

“I am not interested in taking it. Enough. Conversation over.”

“And what about Vanessa?”

“What about her?” he asks, the question dripping in something akin to anger. He catches himself, draws it back in. “She’ll just – We’ll talk, I’ll explain it. The hell else can we do? One thing at a time, okay?”

“Right,” you nod, “okay. One thing at a time.”

“Let’s just build these damn wardrobes. I sure as hell didn’t lug all that timber over here to not do ‘em.”

“Okay,” you repeat, making for the door.

“Ah.” He clicks, and you turn back. “Where the hell do you think you’re goin’?”

“To get the timber.”

“I don’t think so,” he says, pointing to your bed. “Sit down. Relax. You ain’t getting a damn thing.”

Joel calls it a day at six o’clock.

The skeleton of the closet is up: a smooth, tan frame lining one wall of your room. Much bigger, much sturdier than its predecessor.

You’re in the same spot he left you in: lying across your bed, admiring his handiwork. He’s good at what he does. You told him twice, and the two of you almost heaved both times. Compliments aren’t something you’re used to handing one another.

He left, maybe, three hours ago. Said he had to shower; said he’d be back first thing to finish the job. You sat up to see him out, got struck by a wave of nausea so bad that you fell back to the bed with one hand on your stomach and the other over your lips, and Joel had insisted – demanded – that you stay where you were.

I’ll be back later to check on ya, he assured, setting a glass of water at your bedside. And then he told you to call him if you felt even remotely off – sick, or panicked, or had a tickle in your throat that you couldn’t clear – and that’s when the two of you realized that you don’t even have one another’s numbers.

And you laughed, the both of you; laughed at the absurdity of you carrying his child when you don’t even carry his contact details in your phone. Laughed at how quickly everything has turned one hundred and eighty degrees in the few hours since you woke up. It felt like some form of release, the only way to clear the blockage of tension in both your throats. So, you laughed, until you felt sick again, and Joel swept the hair from your shoulders to cool you down.

The attentiveness is…new. It’s interesting. It’s kind, in the same way that being told to say hi to whoever your grandma is talking to in the grocery store, is kind. Sweet, the same way that answering the door on Halloween to a bunch of kids you don’t know from a street you don’t recognize the name of, is sweet.

Whatever. It’s fucking weird, alright?

You’ve never seen this side of Joel. You didn’t know or even think, in your wildest dreams, that he existed. Let’s face it: you two have spent the entirety of your inhabitance next door to one another, antagonizing each other. Your favorite hobby has always been pissing Joel off – teasing him for having backache, seeing how far down his porch you can launch his newspaper and he’ll still go get it. Playing the same kind of music you heard him playing on his guitar that one time, full-volume from your kitchen window just to fuck with him.

And, likewise: his favorite hobby has always been…well, ignoring you. Doing everything he can not to engage. If it weren’t for that fucking cat lady and her jittery green Chevrolet, none of this would’ve ever happened. She was a catalyst where one was neither needed nor wanted. You would’ve gone about your life, pinning your underwear only slightly more carefully to your clothesline, and Joel would’ve gone about his, doing – whatever the fuck he does.

Sure, it’s weird. But it’s nice. It’s nice to have him on your side, turning to check on you rather than snap at you for something. Nice to have him talk – actual, rounded words in place of grumbles and mumbles and groans and sighs. Nice to hang out with him and watch him work and ask questions about screws and power tools and pretend to be interested just to distract from the weight of queasiness in your stomach.

Your hands trail down, cupping around your navel. Your stomach still feels like your stomach: still soft, still spongey under your touch. If not for the two more tests you’d taken this afternoon, perched on the bathroom counter waiting for Joel to unstick his gaze from his watch and announce, That’s three minutes – both also positive, by the way – you’d have no fucking clue.

You hold the bottom half of your tummy, fingers rubbing gently over the skin that will soon enough grow and swell and protect.

“Hey,” you whisper, staring at the stationary ceiling fan overhead. A pause. An awkward inhale. “…hey, little buddy. I don’t – know you very well, yet. I figure you can’t even fucking hear me, but whatever. Just wanted to say hi. I’m – Ew, no. I’m not Mom, yet. What the fuck. I don’t know who I am right now, so just…maybe go easy on me until I figure that part out. And after, too. Alright? Are we…we cool?

“You can’t tell me, I know. I just have to assume we’re cool. Okay. Well. Keep growin’. Keep…doing your thing. You’re doing great. We’re doing – we’re doing alright.

“Good job, kid. Good job.”

Joel tells Vanessa two days later. She takes it…about as well as you might hope.

He says they talked for four hours. Three cups of coffee and a drive to Taco Bell later, she agreed to meet you. Properly. Not across the cluttered dancefloor of Tommy’s wedding.

She –? Is – is that a good idea?

I don’t know, kid. It’s the best I’ve got.

Meet me? Like, come kick my ass for sleeping with her boyfriend?

Joel had sighed and deadened his eyes on yours. Not her boyfriend, he corrected, passing you a sweater folded a little slapdash for your liking, and wasn’t her boyfriend when we slept together.

You shook the sweater straight again and fixed his work, muttering to yourself that at least he’s a better builder than he is a folder.

Joel heard you, and let it go. Passed you another – unfolded – sweater to sit in your wardrobe. Let’s just see how it goes, alright?

Alright.

We’re really trying this again. It’s only been a couple weeks.

Okay.

And neither of us have had much luck in that department since we broke it off, y’know?

Joel. I said okay.

He held your gaze a moment too long. Okay.

You’re on your porch when he strolls over, wrist blocking the six o’clock sun from his eyes. Newspaper in his fist, wind licking the corners. “Forget somethin’ today?” he asks, meeting you at the top of the steps.

“Came out to get it,” you brace yourself on the railing, “felt sick. This is me workin’ up to it.”

“You want me to toss it back onto my lawn so you can go fetch me it?”

You smile, eyes screwing shut. “Was coming over to ask what time for tomorrow.”

The reminder snaps him from his happy daydream. He says, “I was comin’ to ask you the same thing. Seven work?”

“Seven’s good. Are we getting food?”

“You wanna get food? I figured maybe you wouldn’t be up for it, what with the, uh…” Joel gestures to your hunched position, your head low between your shoulders, your deep, deliberate breaths.

“Maybe just drinks,” you utter, gulping back the sharp taste of bile.

He nods. “Drinks it is. You okay? You need anything?”

“I’m good. Thanks. See you guys at seven.”

Four minutes early, there’s a knock at your door. You pull it open, and there they are. Picture-perfect, like they might be posing for a holiday card. A bottle in his arm, a bunch of flowers in hers. A timid but genial smile between her cheeks, a twinkle in her eye. That same circle of shining light around her head, brunette tresses curled into bouncing waves.

“Howdy,” Joel says, stepping into the space you create. He dips his head, kisses your cheek, whispers a brief, Y’okay? in your ear. You nod quickly, gently shifting him out of the way.

Vanessa lingers for a moment in the doorway. She glances from Joel to you again, blinking in the porch light. Her pale skin lit in an ethereal glow. She’s prettier up close.

Joel addresses you, hand brushing the small of your back, “…this is Vanessa.”

“Hi,” she says, and pushes the flowers towards you – a small bouquet of gypsophila and eucalyptus. Bright, polite. Each sprig laden with the burden of appearing simpatico, but important. Meaningful, in the airiest sense of the word. “Hi,” again.

“Hi,” you echo, and then feel stupid for having nothing more to offer. You can feel Joel’s eyes on you, hot on your shoulder.

But Vanessa takes the weight from your chest. “It’s nice to meet you – officially. I saw you at Tommy and Maria’s wedding. You looked so beautiful.”

“Thanks,” springs from your tongue sooner than the rest of the sentence. Your brain scrams to find more words. “You looked – you looked great, too. Do you wanna –? I mean – Sorry. Come in. Obviously.”

She clicks over the threshold, her pale dress floating into your hallway like she’s part of a dream. She’s just as beautiful in this light, relaxed form – pastel blue and the glimmer of golden jewelry – as she was in the sleeker, more dramatic form you saw her in before. An aura about her which captures and tends to your attention. Intense, captivating, but not intimidating.

You usher them to the living room, offer them a space on the couch while you take Vanessa’s flowers to the kitchen. Joel follows you through, sets the bottle on the counter.

“Nonalcoholic,” he says, unscrewing the cap.

Your eyebrows jump. “Great. Thanks.”

“She’s nervous,” he murmurs, leaning in. “I know you are, too. Y’all are similar like that.”

You slot the stems into a vase of water one by one, carefully organizing a display. “She seems sweet,” you assure him. “She shouldn’t be nervous.”

“Neither should you.”

“Is this…totally weird for you?”

Joel breathes in deep, filling three glasses. “Yeah,” he says, eyes never lifting from the sparkling peach.

“Sorry.”

He angles his jaw. “Stop sayin’ you're sorry. I’ll kick your ass.”

Your head drops between your shoulders, eyes lifting only to his elbows. “Sorry.”

He scoffs, swiping the glasses and stepping back to let you out first.

“I’m trying not to make it weird,” you offer, slipping by.

“I don’t want you to try anything.” He kicks your ankle lightly and follows you back into the living room.

Vanessa sits forward and clasps her hands around her knee when you sit back down, shifting as though to reach for you before she stops herself. “How are you feeling? Joel said you’re a little…worse for wear, right now.”

“I’ve been better,” you say, smiling. “Just morning sickness. Which lasts – all day.”

She nods sympathetically. “My sister had it rough with her first. I actually…” She twists around, reaches for her purse, fishes out an orange packet. “I brought you some ginger tea. Kate told me it helped her a lot, so.”

She holds it out in almost trembling fingers. Likewise, you steady yours to take it from her, thanking her with a shy nod of the head. “That’s so kind,” you reply quietly, eyes darting to Joel. He’s staring at the pack in your hands, watching as you turn it over to read the back.

“And – listen,” Vanessa continues, the acceptance of her offering clearly fueling her assuredness, “I don’t want anything to be weird – between you and I, between you and Joel. I know this situation is…new. It’s, um…”

“It’s kinda weird,” you say, humoring. “It’s okay. I know.”

She breathes a relieved laugh. “It is. Thank God you said it.” She glances back at Joel, who smiles at her, slips his hand onto her knee. “But I guess,” a deep breath, “I guess it is what it is. And we’re all adults, you know? We can make it work, right?”

Your head switches rapidly between nodding enthusiastically and shaking enthusiastically. “Yeah. Yes. No, absolutely. And, you know, me and Joel – there isn’t – we’re not at all…”

“Oh,” she bats the idea away, “I know. I know that. He told me everything. It’s – You know, it’s just a timing thing.”

Joel’s staring down at his hand locked around her leg. Unblinking. Unmoving. His expression doesn’t shift until the two of you settle back into your seats; until Vanessa asks if he’d mind making you a cup of ginger tea.

You barely notice his absence, the way she takes you up in conversation. Like twirling you off in some kind of dance, each sentence strung safely to the next. There are no lulls, no awkward pauses. She asks about work, asks about your family. She tells you stories about her niece, who’s three now, and compares how you’re feeling to how she remembers her sister feeling.

Then her work, and the IT guy her friend hooked up with, and her class at the gym which she’s trying to convince Joel to come along to, and Kate’s hot yoga class every Thursday night, and the new sushi place which just opened downtown and You gotta try it some day; the nigiri is divine.

And you nod along, and you laugh at her anecdotes and tell your own, and Joel tells her to tell you about the jazz band who were playing at the restaurant they visited a couple weeks ago, and you offer to top her drink up and she says she’ll do it herself and she leaves you and Joel alone for the first time all evening, and – it’s weird.

Because – behind the veil of conversation you’re doing your best to uphold, sits an image of this very night – only, in Joel’s house. In Joel’s house, on Joel’s couch, drinking nonalcoholic wine with Joel’s brother. Joel and Vanessa leant against one another on one couch, Tommy and Maria on the other.

You can’t help it – you’re wondering what Maria thinks of Vanessa. How long they knew each other, if at all, before the breakup. Whether they hung out, whether they discussed sushi and yoga, or the housing market, or their Miller boyfriends and their annoying Miller habits.

Maria would’ve liked her, you think. Would’ve found her as lovely as you do. And the idea, the image of them giggling together at family parties and being Tommy’s Maria and Joel’s Vanessa – presses a firm, bullying finger into the bruise you thought had faded some from the other day.

And once they’re gone, once you’re left alone again – lying in still silence, closed in on yourself by the thick darkness of your room, nothing but you and your thoughts and your unborn child for company – it slips out.

“Fuck her, right?” You hold your hands out, addressing your stomach. “She was so fucking nice. Did you like her? Fuck me, I liked her. I hope they break up.”

And then, realizing who you’re talking to: “No. Sorry, baby, no. I don’t hope they break up. I want your dad to be really happy. But – Goddamn. She was so sweet. I thought she was gonna slap me, and she just – she brought ginger tea! Fuck. They look good together, don’t they?”

It’s just hormones. Just the emotional trip that is being four weeks pregnant. Everybody feels like this when they fall pregnant – sensitive, vulnerable, clingy. Right? Right?

Your words sit stagnant in midair. You swear you can see them, heavy and intruding. Awkwardly lingering someplace they don’t belong. Because none of it even matters – the hormones, the emotions. The weird knot burning a hole in your chest, shaped like a clenched fist, knuckles branded by the heat of longing. It can’t matter.

You’re where you are, he’s where he is. A pillow in your arm, Vanessa in his. Feet apart, bricks and mortar and something like twenty years and two dates too late separating you.

Both staring up at the ceiling, wondering who the other’s thinking of.

“At eight weeks, your baby is roughly the size of a raspberry.”

Your knee bounces, breath coming and going in shaky ripples. The rubber sole of your shoe cries against the sterilized hospital floor. Your chest hums anxiously and your throat catches when you swallow and are the lights too bright? The room too hot? You’re sweating. Why are you sweating? Can you breathe right now?

Joel nudges your arm and your eyes roll to the pamphlet in his hand, his finger tracing the words. “C’mon,” he utters, leaning in, “how can anything the size of a raspberry be scary?”

You squint under fluorescent white. “A raspberry that grows into the size of a watermelon, can break my ribs, make me throw up, make me lose hair, and then tear my vagina apart on its way out? That’s pretty scary.”

He smirks. “Not to me it ain’t. My vagina stays perfectly intact the entire time.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you reply, whacking him.

He laughs, swatting your palm away, keeping ahold of your fingers inside his own. “Speaking of – we gotta talk.” He elbows you, waiting until you’re looking again to speak. “We gotta cut the language.”

“Cut the language?”

“Uhuh. Rein it in. And by we, I mean you.”

“Uh,” you scoff, “I don’t think so. When you do the growing, then you can rein your own swearing in. Leave me alone, asshole.”

“Charming,” Joel says. “You know the baby can hear you? You want it to come out swearin’ like a trooper?”

You grin, tipping your head to him. “If it comes out and says anything, we’re rich. So – yeah. Let it.”

He opens his mouth to reply when a nurse emerges from a nearby room and calls your name.

“You’re up, kid,” Joel says, standing beside you.

You turn back, speaking before your brain settles on words. “I’m scared.”

“Hey,” he says, taking your hand. He squeezes it gently, uses the other to keep you facing him. “This is the easy part, right? We’re just going to meet them.”

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, and wander over to meet the nurse. Joel’s hand a vice grip around yours.

She leads you into a similarly washed-out clinic room, only slightly dimmer with the lights turned out, and yanks a roll of paper across the bed. Tapping it twice, she smiles. “Hop up, darlin’.”

You settle into the crinkly paper, leaning back until you’re blinking up at the speckled ceiling. Another door opens and a woman in a white coat floats in, and you swear that if it weren’t for Joel’s Evenin’, ma’am when she greets the two of you, you’d believe she were a figment of your imagination. Another character in this fucking insane dream.

“Not often I do these past five o’clock,” she says, clicking her mouse and typing on her keyboard and fixing a hair grip back into her bun. Casual. It’s not even a thing to her, introducing parents and children. She does this all fucking day.

Joel tosses half a glance to you and then realizes you’re not currently in the room. He pinches your hand again. It grounds you for all of two seconds.

“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat, “work commitment. I couldn’t get away any earlier, so we’re havin’ to do this a little late.”

“What do you do?” she asks, staring at her screen. Her glossy brown eyes and rich, dark skin.

“I’m a contractor,” Joel replies, thumb stroking your shoulder.

Something bubbles in your stomach, something akin to jealousy, an urgency to tell her that right now, in this room, he’s mine. No more questions. Something which quickly dissipates when you remind yourself to quit being fucking ridiculous and that right now, in this room, he’s someone else’s, and the thumb on your shoulder is merely to hold you back from fleeing. Nothing more.

The sonographer nods. Her name badge reads Freya. Pretty name. Stop picturing what your kid would look like as a Freya. You are not naming them after the first sonographer you meet.

“Shouldn’t be too long, then y’all can get home for the night. You live nearby?”

“Twenty minutes’ drive. Not far, are we?” Joel asks you.

Your eyes shoot down to his. “No,” you push your cheeks up, telling Freya, “not far.”

She flattens her lips against one another, lending you a sympathetic smile. “You got nothing to worry about, honey. Promise. Gel might be a little cold, that’s about as scary as this gets. We’re just gonna make sure everything’s looking good, check your dates, check your measurements. You’re doing great.”

“You hear that?” Joel murmurs, settling down into the chair by your side. His hand hasn’t left yours. His voice is low, meant just for you, when he repeats, “You’re doin’ great.”

You huff a laugh, some nervous release from your lungs.

Freya smiles, face lit by the faint glow of the screen in front of her. “We ready?”

You roll the hem of your tee up when she motions, bunching it under the wire of your bra. She squeezes a bottle over your stomach, which tenses solid when the frozen bite of gel curls right below your belly button. Freya smiles apologetically when you wince. Told you, she murmurs, and your breath escapes in a slightly more comfortable laugh. Lighter, easier. Scariest part over.

She presses the probe to your skin and spreads the gel, coating the bottom of your tummy in a slippery slick which tickles with each inch she covers. Two buttons pressed, and a dark image appears on a screen opposite you.

A gray fan, speckled like the ceiling above your head. Dark, black shapes growing and shrinking at the turn of Freya’s wrist. She pauses, two blobs onscreen: the larger, black, round, home to a smaller, misshapen one. Flecked with white and silver and moving slowly, gently, but – right there.

“Mom, Dad,” she grins, “meet your baby.”

You and Joel move forward at the same time, drawn closer to the crunchy image as if by some kind of natural magnetism. Eyes never blinking, lips agape. The shapes flutter, the smaller dipping in and out of view.

“You see right here, right in the center?” A white cross appears over the blob’s middle. “That little movement? The kinda – pulsing?”

You each nod. Your nails dig so deep into Joel’s hand that you risk drawing blood.

“That’s the heart. Ticking away.”

“The heart?” you ask, watching the rhythmic flicker in the center of the screen.

“Yep. Perfect, too.”

She hits another key and suddenly the room is filled with a muffled thudding; a steady, energetic pulse in your ears. It matches the movements onscreen, the tiny throb of the baby’s chest, the shape of your womb moving like waves before you.

And suddenly, it's real – all of it: the screen and the room and the sonographer and you, and Joel’s hand encasing yours, holding your knuckles to his lips, and –

And the heartbeat. Right there, right in front of you. Shy, probably as nervous as you are to introduce themselves. Feeling your eyes on them, curled up somewhere safe inside you. Right there.

You turn to Joel, and his illuminated face is staring straight at the screen. Eyes soaked with tears, blinking as they form, cheeks dappled with wet. He draws his eyes from his child only to look back at you, only to mirror your stunned smile, your disbelieving laugh, more tears dripping down into his beard. He sits up, presses his damp lips firmly to your forehead.

Freya mutes the heartbeat, pauses the scan where the image is clearest, and sits back. “I’ll give you guys a moment to yourselves,” she says, wheeling back in her chair. “Take all the time you need. I’m right outside.”

“Thanks,” Joel mumbles for the both of you, sweeping hair from your face.

The door closes on your little bubble – you, Joel, and the grainy image of your baby. The evidence that – yeah, that night happened, and yeah, you’re forever changed because of it. The evidence that you’re about to become a mom, for real, no matter how much the thought makes you feel like your stomach is kicking around at your ankles.

And the evidence that, no matter how scared you might be, how unprepared and unworthy you feel – you fucking adore that little blob already.

Love it as much as Joel does, stood over you, kissing your hair and whispering words you’re only half-listening to. A quiet thank you, a shaky I can’t believe it. Something about showing his brother. And when you look up at him, blinking at one another, inches apart – he takes your jaw in his hands and lowers his lips to yours.

Different. Softer. No want laced through. No urgency. Nothing needed, nor requested, that isn’t already right here in this little bubble of yours.

He kisses you slowly, eyes closed, holding you until you pull away for breath. His nose bumps against yours and you laugh, heads together, eyes low.

“Still scared?” he whispers.

“Terrified,” you tell him.

“Me, too,” he says, and kisses you again.

You lean back against the bed, relief settling your bones and soothing your heartbeat. The notion washes over you that, if you could, you’d stay in this room forever. Staring at the screen, holding Joel’s hand. Whispering fears into his mouth and letting him swallow them in a kiss.

He hands you some paper towel and helps you drag it across your stomach, your eyes still fixed on the little shape opposite. He hooks his chin over your head – the fresh, woody smell of his cologne infiltrating your lungs and throwing you under the haze of something you’re not quite sure how to define.

“Duck,” he says, voice vibrating into your skull.

“Huh?”

“Start saying duck. Make the baby think we’re saying that, then you can say –” he lowers his voice, “– fuck, all you want.”

“The hell would I have to say duck for?”

Joel stands upright and shrugs. “I don’t know. Think of somethin’. A nickname, maybe.”

“Duck?”

He nods plainly, glancing over to the screen.

The pillow beneath your head sighs as you turn from Joel back to the ultrasound. “Baby Duck,” you offer, and he smiles.

Smiles in a way you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile. Eyes glistening, cheeks swollen. Something innocent and earnest about it. Something pure.

He agrees. “Baby Duck it is.”

Joel insists that you spend the night at his place.

“It’s been a big day,” he reasons, fixing the bed in his guestroom. “Just – let me run around after you for a little bit.”

You fight your corner as much as you can be bothered – I gotta maintain my independence, I’m gonna be a single mom soon enough, you know – but, truthfully, you’ll take any excuse to have him rush around at your beck and call. Some days you open your mouth and he hears the wet click of saliva between your lips, and grabs a glass of water for you before you’ve even voiced the request.

He orders takeout, settles shoulder-to-shoulder with you on the couch, and lets you pick whichever movie you feel like putting him through until the food’s gone, he’s out of beer, and you’ve abandoned Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles for an argument about the best part of pizza.

You don’t like the crust?

Nope.

What fuckin’ age are you?

If it ain’t stuffed, it’s just not worth it.

At eleven, you bid him goodnight and wander upstairs, falling into a sea of navy-blue sheets to be delivered to sleep by the serene silence of Joel’s home. It takes no time for your eyes to flutter closed, the soft sheen of moonlight painted across the wall, sweeping from your view to be replaced in a whir by –

Lights. Overhead and all around and so bright and so close that you swear they’re etched on the inside of your eyelids.

You’re in the backseat, watching them soar by in blurs of white and red and amber and green, and your pulse is rattling through your veins and throbbing between your temples and you can’t focus on any one object for longer than three seconds, before your eyes roll and your head dizzies.

A word, slung from your lips in a half-wakened attempt to stop it. A word you barely recognize at first, don’t understand the meaning of. It’s been years. Why now? Mom.

You’re not sure why, or who you’re even reaching out to. There are two figures in the front seats, heads facing forward. She’s not turning around. She’s not even fucking moving, not reacting to the speed or the lights or your voice. Mom.

You scream it, the syllable ripping violently from your throat, and your tiny fingers reach for her swirls of hair. You pause, staring at the chipped polish on your stubby, kiddy nails. Mom, I’m scared.

The distorted blast of a horn scoops the car up in one motion, hurtling over itself along the freeway. You’re thrown to the roof of the car, plummet back down to your seat; the seatbelt throttles you, rips a burn deep into the skin of your neck. Back up again; your head hits the spongey roof of the car. Your stomach somersaults.

Mom, please, you wail, swiping for her hand. It’s lying limp by her thigh, dark droplets on her wrist. Mom Mom please Mom I’m scared Mom please I’m so scared I –

“Baby.”

His voice is low, earthy. It chews apart the high-pitched squeal of brakes and screaming. The glass smashing. The metal crunching.

You lift from the bed like it’s ice water, gasping when you finally surface back on Earth. Your chest heaves, it’s not sucking in enough breath; you can’t breathe you can’t breathe you can’t fucking breathe.

Joel whips the cover from your legs and you roll from the mattress, feet planting on the floor. You bend forward to grip onto the sheets, a choking rising up your throat, closer and closer until it tugs on your tongue.

“Icantbreathe,” you pant.

Joel’s body curves around yours. “You’re alright,” he’s telling you – urging you; one hand between your shoulder blades, the other holding your wrist for fear you might collapse. “I’m here, you’re okay. You’re at my place, you’re safe, but, kid – I need you to slow down. You’re hyperventilating.”

You work your breathing to the strokes of his hand up and down your spine: in out in out in and out and in and out and in, and out, and in, and…out…and in…and…out.

“That’s it. Keep doing that. You’re good, baby, I got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

In – and out. In – and out again.

The room slowly desaturates back into boring, moonlit blue. Feeling sputters back into your hands, clawing at the sheets once the sharpness dissolves. The cotton pets back, smooth under your quivering touch. Your lips stop tingling, your ears stop ringing. One after another, until your blood settles back to a steady stream and you straighten up.

“Can you sit down for me?”

“No,” you whimper, and Joel nods.

“That’s alright,” he says. “I’m gonna get you a drink, that okay?”

You grab his T-shirt. “No. Don’t leave me. Please. Sorry.”

He cups your frozen cheeks. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Just downstairs. You can come.”

He settles you at his kitchen table and shuffles over to the cupboards, rubbing his eyes. You feel the heat of embarrassment and guilt, watching as he settles down with a groan minutes later.

“Ginger,” he tells you, voice rounded by his mug, sliding one of your own over to you.

“Sorry,” you mumble, lifting it with two hands. The smell sharp, cutting up the remnants of gasoline and smoke.

“Many times do I gotta say it?” he asks dryly. “Quit sayin’ you’re sorry.”

You gulp nervously. “You got work in the morning. You’re gonna be exhausted.”

“And if I hadn’t let you keep me up watchin’ chick flicks, I’d be rested. That’s something I can deal with later. I got you to worry about right now.”

You shake your head; the ceramic hits the table with a sharp thud. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Well,” Joel sniffs, “you’re carrying my child. I’ll always worry about you.”

You sit back, the curve of the chair cradling, your heart beating lamely against the wood. Joel’s jaw rests in the cushion of his palm, staring back at you.

“What time is it?” you ask, and he glances over his shoulder.

“Three. Take a sip.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sip.”

You obey, lifting the tea and swallowing harshly.

He watches every move, every shift reflected in his dark eyes, decorated by a tense, stony expression. “Does this happen a lot?”

“Never,” you say. “This never happens.”

Joel cranes his jaw, cracks his neck. “Alright,” he sighs, “that’s okay. Breathe again. You’re doing fine.”

But you don’t feel fine. The dregs of panic sizzle into something thicker, hotter. Anger. Frustration. “Why the fuck is this happening?” you hiss, fingers prodding into your eye sockets. “What the f–?”

“Easy. I don’t know. Hormones? Stress?”

“You sound like my fucking doctor.”

Joel smiles. Amusement, before concern wipes over it again. “Let’s just give it some time to pass, okay?”

You nod, hanging over your drink, the silhouette of your reflection staring back at you. The steam snakes up, seeping into your skin, bubbling under the surface. Wiping clean any memory of freeway or nail polish, like coating over a bathroom mirror. The shapes still visible behind, but blurred. Gone.

“How’s Vanessa?” you ask, an attempt to distract yourself.

Joel adjusts a little awkwardly in his chair. “She’s good. She loved the scan photo. Showed it to her sister. They’re sure it’s a boy.”

“Ha. Joel Jr.”

“Joel Jr.,” he agrees, and then attempts to distract himself. “So,” he says, “Allandale.”

“Mhm?”

“Wonder if I ever saw your mom or dad. When I was there visitin’ Sam.”

You shrug. “Doubt it. I mean, they always lived right next to the elementary school, if that helps. My mom was a first-grade teacher. The two of us used to walk there ‘n back together, every day.”

“First grade, huh? Best one.”

“Yeah. Yeah, and she was the best of the best. She used to go all out for her kids; used to go to Michaels and get all this crafty stuff so they could spend all afternoon making little houses or zoos, or – whatever she could think of. And she’d always keep some aside, bring some home for me to make one, too. One time, she came home with all this blue tissue paper and little foam fish, and we made an aquarium together.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Joel says.

“Yeah,” you say again, nodding eagerly. “She was so cool. And fun, y’know? I just remember her being so much fun. I always felt safe with her, felt loved. I actually used to think she hung the sun every morning, just for me.” You take a deep breath, replacing it with a broken sigh.

“What about your dad? What was he like?”

You frown. “He was…fine. Real quiet, reserved. A little grumpy, I guess. I always got the idea he couldn’t be bothered with me, young as I was. Always wanted to be left alone. I think my mom overcompensated a lot.”

Something flashes across Joel’s face that seems to say he knows – or, at least, he understands. Almost imperceptible, a quick flicker of annoyance. “You miss her?” he asks, switching back.

“My mom?” You almost laugh, gripping onto your mug. Staring at the slow swirl of ginger. A shrug which presents more like a flinch; an animal swatting a fly away. “I miss those parts, when I think of them. The aquarium, the walking to school. Miss the memories. But I don’t think I knew her well enough or long enough to miss her.

“I’ve lived way longer without her than I ever had her. Done everything without her, like –” gesturing down, “– this. But, sometimes…sometimes, I bundle the sheets up behind my back in bed, and I pretend it’s her. Pretend I have a mom, and she’s cuddling me to sleep. I dunno. Maybe that’s what missing her feels like.”

Joel soaks in every word you say, letting the shape of each one settle on the table between you before he speaks again. Letting them be spoken into the dead of night, collected by no one, and letting them fade into silence. Secrets sweeping off into starlight. Nothing you would admit in the daytime.

“What was her name?” he asks, voice timid and gentle in the dark kitchen.

You almost choke on your tea. “Shoot – I’m sorry. That was a lot. Sorry. She, uh – Her name?”

It brings the first genuine smile to your lips; the memory of your mom now clear behind your eyes. Her round cheeks, her fluttering earrings. The deep, dark curls of her hair, thick ringlets twisting and lighting in the sun. The gap between her front teeth, the purse of her lips as she kissed your cheeks, your hands, your tummy.

Her name like a melody in your head; a safe word, a calming mantra when the world becomes too noisy, too saturated, too sharp to bear. Two syllables. Two little beats, like a piece of her still lives in the sound of her name.

“Sarah,” you tell Joel. “Her name was Sarah.”