#september will roll along

[theyatosimp]

August. No hesitation present. Only magic, eternal magic, my heart is whole.

(a response)

July. All sensation absent. Only magic, internal magic, your sky-blue soul.

Velimir Khlebnikov

[yokelfelonking]

Post 9/11 Trivia

Most folks on this site were either children on September 11, 2001, or weren’t even born yet.  But America went crazy for about a year afterwards.  Here’s some highlights that I remember that might not be in your history books:

There was national discussion on whether or not Halloween should be canceled because…fuck if I know why.  After planes crashed into buildings in NYC it follows that 6-year-olds in Iowa shouldn’t be allowed to dress up like Batman and ask their neighbors for candy, I guess.  (Halloween wasn’t canceled, by the way.)

On a similar note, people asked if comedy - any sort of comedy - was appropriate anymore, ever.

People sold shitty parachutes to suckers “in case your building gets attacked and you have to jump out the window.” There were honest-to-God news reports warning people not to jump out of the window with shitty mail-order parachutes because they wouldn't work.

As a follow-up to the attacks, someone mailed anthrax to some prominent politicians and news anchors - you know, famous people - along with some badly-written notes about “you cannot stop us, death to America, Allah is good” and after that every time some random dumbass found a package in the mail they didn’t recognize they thought that the terrorists were targeting them, too.

Everyone was similarly convinced that their town was going to be the next target, even if they were a little town in the middle of nowhere. "Our town of Bumblefuck, South Dakota (population 690) has the largest styrofoam pig statue west of the Mississippi! Terrorists might fly planes into that too! It's a prime target!"

People started taping up their windows and trying to make their houses or apartments airtight out of fear of chemical and biological attacks. There were news reports warning people that turning your house into an airtight box was a bad idea because, y'know, you need air to breathe.

"[X] supports terrorism!" and “if we do [X], the terrorists win!” were used as arguments for everything.  "Some rich Arab you never heard of donated to his organization that backs Hamas which backs al-Queda, and also owns stock in a holding company that has partial ownership of the Pringles company, so if you eat Pringles you're supporting terrorism!" "The terrorists want to tear down our freedoms and our way of life and rule us through fear! Eating what you want is one of our freedoms as Americans! If you're afraid to eat Pringles, the terrorists win!" (I promise you that this sort of argument is in no way hyperbole.) (This argument is how Halloween was saved, by the way.  “If we cancel Halloween, the terrorists win!”)

People worked 9/11 into everything, and I mean everything, whether it was appropriate or not.  If you went to the grocery store the tortilla chips would remind you to support the troops on the packaging. Used car sales would be dedicated to our brave first responders. You couldn't wipe your ass without the toilet paper rolls reminding you to never forget the fallen of 9/11, and again, this is not hyperbole. My uncle, who lived in Ohio and had never been to New York except to visit once in the 70′s, died of a stroke about 8 months after 9/11, and the priest brought up the attacks at the eulogy.

On a similar local note, on the day of 9/11, after the towers went down, gas stations in my home town immediately jacked up gas prices.  The mayor had the cops go around and force them to take them back down.  I doubt any of that was legal.

Before 9/11, Christianity in America - and religion in general - was on a downward swing, with reddit-tier atheism on the upswing. Religion was outdated superstition from a bygone age. The day after 9/11? Every single church was PACKED. (This wasn't a bad thing, but the power-hungry on the Evangelical Right saw this as a golden opportunity to grab power and influence.)

EDIT: By Popular Demand - Freedom Fries. I initially left these off because they came a couple years after the initial panic and most people thought they were kind of absurd (and I don't recall anyone really going along with it other than maybe some local diners here and there). France didn't want to get involved in our world policing so some folks were like "TRAITORS!" and wanted to call french fries "Freedom Fries" instead, so as to stick it to the French.

Besides dumb shit like that…it’s really hard to overstate how completely the national mood and character changed in the span of a day, or how much of the current culture war is a result of the aftermath. (9/11 was the impetus for the sharp rise in power of the Evangelical Right, who made themselves utterly odious and the following backlash helped the rise of the current Progressive Left, for instance.)

And if all of this seems batshit...well, it was. But I want you to think for a moment how people react today over even trivial shit. People send death threats over children's cartoons. They call for blood if the maker of a video game had an opinion they don't like. If someone made a racist joke a decade ago when they were a teenage edgelord, folks will go after people who even associate with them. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND ALL THE HARM THEY'RE DOING!?"

Now take that same level of over-the-top histrionics and apply it to the unprecedented event of passenger planes crashing into crowded buildings in America's most populous city and killing thousands of people all at once. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT WE WERE ATTACKED!?"

[mavrintarou]

[11:09 AM] Sakusa Kiyoomi

Happy September! Just a quick Omi (hot Omi).

Warning: explicit smut... like Fwop. Fwop. Fwop.

You were awakened by familiar hands around your hips, turning you onto your stomach. You feel the cool air hit your ass as your cotton nightgown is pushed up and seconds later, your panties are pulled down your legs.

“Baby?” you murmured, lifting your head to look over your shoulder.

“Shh,” he coos. Your clothing is pushed up and bunched halfway to your torso. He covers your petite body with his, you feel all of him pressed against you. His cock is sliding between the cheeks of your ass as he grinds into you. “I need you…” He sandwiches you against the bed, brushing your long hair off your shoulder as he kisses and nips your skin. “Be my good girl…”

You hummed, laying your head down again. When Kiyoomi calls you his good girl… you know it’s your favorite Omi.

Just this Omi only came out at night.

He trails his tongue along the curve of your shoulder to your neck and nips your ear, “are you going to be my good girl?”

You nod your head and feel his cock slide into you, where he belongs.

He groans into your ear, a low sexy groan that he knows does things to you. He doesn’t move but settles until all of him is inside of you.

A low breath fans your ear. “You’re so wet. Are you going to let… daddy take care of you?” He chuckles when he feels you tighten around his thick cock.

You had jokingly mentioned the night before about calling him daddy.

 “You like that? You want me to be your daddy?” His grip on your hip tightens, “answer me.”

“Ye – yes…” you choked.

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes… daddy.”

Goodness, you hate but love this man.

Kiyoomi tortures you with slow and deep thrusts. “Are you also going to take all of daddy’s cum?”

You let out a shaky breath, your elbows digging into the bed as it supports your weight. “Yes, daddy… I’ll take all your cum…” your voice pauses, “please… please give me all your cum daddy…”

You don’t need to see, but you can feel his smile against your skin.

Though you and Kiyoomi both know you are not ready to start a family yet, you weren’t oblivious to his desire to fill your womb with his cum. You recently got on birth control and told him the night before that it was okay for him to not use condoms anymore.

You were surprised when he did not pounce on you right there and then, instead, he pulled you close and kissed your forehead, wishing you good dreams.

The bed began to shake and squeak loudly with the intensity of his thrusts.

Fwop. Fwop. Fwop.

“Let me hear you,” Kiyoomi growled. Half his weight is lifted off of you as he leans straight up and rolls his hips. His palms grip your ass, squeezing them, digging his nails into your skin. “You’re so wet…”

You’re suddenly jerked, your ass is pulled up and you’re on your knees. Your back is arched and your lower half angled to feel how deep his cock is embedded inside you.

Kiyoomi pounds hard and fast.

Fwop. Fwop. Fwop.

“Yes… yes…” he groans when you cross your ankles. “Squeeze me baby…”

You’re suddenly left empty and flipped onto your back. Kiyoomi spreads your legs wide and pushes your knees into the bed. He presses his weight into you, leaning down to kiss you hungrily.

Fwop. Fwop. Fwop.

“Omi… Omi…” You whimper and moan when he nips your lower lip painfully. A sharp slap to your thigh makes you quickly correct yourself. “Please, daddy… I’m so close…”

“Me too,” he breathes, “going to cum in this pussy, fill you up… fill up my good girl… daddy is going to fill you up and breed you…”

Your arms lock around his neck and moan, “yes! Please! Please!”

Fwop. Fwop. Fwop.

You jerk against Kiyoomi, crying out as your orgasm hits you powerfully.

Kiyoomi meets his orgasm seconds later. His heavy and large body stills against you but his hips continue to pump even as his cock twitches inside you. You’re instantly filled with warm liquid, a sensation so phenomenal.

The next time you woke up, Kiyoomi was fast asleep beside you.

You blink, staring up at the ceiling.

Did you have an erotic dream?

Reaching for your phone, it was almost 8 AM. Looking at your sleeping boyfriend, that was considered late for him.

Sitting up, Kiyoomi’s heavy arm falls onto your lap. Your nightgown was still on with your tits practically hanging out.

“Was it a dream?” you murmured.

“Was what a dream?”

You glance at Kiyoomi before pulling the ends of your gown up, your panties are gone.

“So it was not a dream?” There was no evidence between your legs.

Kiyoomi nuzzles into your belly, “it’s too early.”

“Omi, baby, it’s almost 8 AM.” He groaned, muttering something under his breath. “Do you have practice today?”

“No, no practice… want to sleep in…”

You push back his curls, feeling his temperature. “Are you feeling okay?” You frown when you feel it against your thigh, “are you – hard?”

After a second round, you are seated on his lap at the kitchen table. You are wrapped in your throw blanket, naked underneath, sitting on your boyfriend’s lap who is only in his boxer briefs.

“So,” you tilt your head, “what was that this morning?”

Kiyoomi avoids your eyes as he has one arm tightly wrapped around your back, and the other hand is feeding the both of you cereal.

He blinked a few times before looking up at you, a faint pink blush on his cheeks. “I… have been having weird dreams…”

“Weird dreams?” you questioned, “what kind?”

“Of you…”

“Weird dreams of me?”

He buries his face against your chest. “You keep taking advantage of me in my dreams. Teasing me and leaving me with blue balls in my dream… and I would wake up hard…” he mumbles, “it’s all your fault.”

You giggle, “my fault?”

He looks up at you with innocent eyes, “yes, your fault. You dropped two bombs on me this past week… wanting to call me daddy and telling me I don’t need to wear a condom now… it started giving me fucken wild dreams… so you needed to take responsibility this morning.”

. . .

E/N: This man... you know it's hot stuff when you have to add the sound effects LOL.

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[wandasaura]

CRUEL SUMMER

summary — maybe you were oblivious to the way you teased natasha with a cherry flavored popsicle, or maybe you’d known all along and you were just waiting for her to break

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, temperature play, outdoor sex, nipple play, oral, degradation, food play (a popsicle and it’s never inserted), mild humiliation, semi orgasm control, daddy kink, dom/sub dynamics, brief domestic fluff, horrible popsicle stick joke, men/minors dni

authors note — a little summer snippet of our favorite couple! just wanted to expand on a little thought i had a few days ago!

you are in love

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

The cherry flavor was tart as it spread across your tongue and tinted your lips the same color as Natasha’s hair, not your favorite flavor from the selection currently stashed toward the back of the freezer, but Wanda had mistaken it for strawberry when you asked so kindly for a treat. Your tongue swirled around the popsicle lewdly, catching each droplet of thawed syrup and ice before it had the chance to make a mess of your fingers. You had no desire to join your girlfriends in the pool, enjoying the stillness of the lounge chair that you made yourself comfortable against.

Despite your reluctance to plunge deep into the warm water, your body was covered minimally, triangular pieces of fabric concealing only what mattered most, although the visible swell of your breasts was undeniably tantalizing as rivulets of perspiration clung to you.

You waved at Wanda when she resurfaced, giggling softly at the disheveled appearance she sported despite her composed demeanor. The salt water had allowed kinks to form in her silky hair, and thin strands clung to her cheeks despite how she ran her fingers through her tresses and attempted to pull them taut behind her shoulders. She waved back, sending you a teasing wink before she was gone again, a blur of vibrant colors beneath the water as she kicked off the side of the pool and swam toward the deep end; her need for physical activity even on her days off boggled you, but a bored Wanda was not someone you wanted to deal with, so you watched her glide through the water with no outward commentary.

You sighed softly, eyes closing behind the thick frames of your sunglasses, tongue still working on the swiftly melting popsicle, savoring every ounce of tartness that dissolved on your tongue. You could always get up and retrieve another, but they tasted so much better when Wanda did the work for you, and you wouldn’t get so lucky if you asked her again. She’d just barely complied the first time, huffing beneath her breath about how she’d inadvertently turned you into a princess all while she disappeared into the house.

You frowned instinctively when something obstructed the warm sunlight cascading down against your face, inadvertently shielding your body from the gentle burn that was forming against your already tanned skin (this was not the first day you’d spent by the pool with your girlfriends, and it wouldn’t be the last until the cool days of September rolled around). The cloudless sky hadn’t provided anything more than a gentle breeze in hours, and curiously your eyes fluttered open, expecting to find a stray cloud to blame, though only to come up with a set of dangerous green eyes narrowed thinly in your direction.

Shyly, you peered up at Natasha, vibrant cherry popsicle still between your stained lips as you gazed at her sweetly. Droplets of salt water raced down her arms and perfectly toned thighs, sparkling beneath the sunlight she shielded you from. If you hadn’t been aware of how your movements taunted her before, you were now, realizing that her dazzling green eyes weren’t trained on yours like you’d initially thought, but rather watching closely as you lapped at the cool juices that threatened to dirty your hands and dragged your tongue slowly across the length of the frozen treat in an attempt to savor its subpar escape from the heat. Months ago, you would’ve apologized sheepishly, would’ve submitted beneath Natasha’s heavy stare the second it had fallen upon you, but now, with a refreshing confidence and security in your relationship, you moved the sunglasses up to the top of your head, holding her stare as you plunged the frozen treat as far as the wooden stick would allow, hollowing your cheeks only to suck in suggestively as you swirled your tongue around the treat.

“Parshivets.” She muttered beneath her in Russian, and while you were still learning her and Wanda’s native language, that single word was one of the few burned into your mind without translation. Brat. She’d called you that name for the first time only a few weeks ago, in a moment of intense connection that had both of your limbs trembling by the end, but somehow it had stuck just as easily as duckling had. You weren’t sure what you heard more of anymore, your name, or that single title that had wetness pooling in your panties instantaneously.

“Tvoy parshivets.” You rebutted, eyes narrowing challengingly as you glared up at her. Your defiance was the final straw, the last test of her patience, and within seconds, before you could even comprehend what was coming next, your beloved popsicle was in her hands and between her lips. “Hey!”

“Shut up.” She grumbled around the treat, slowly stalking closer, pressing her thighs into the edge of the lounge chair you laid across possessivky, making no move to press her body into yours like you’d anticipated, though the her simple presence was enough to assert ownership. When she pulled the popsicle away from her lips, she tilted it over your body, watching calmly as red droplets of thawed syrup fell against the exposed skin of your chest and belly. You shivered, a displeased whine filling the air that had been silent aside from the sounds of rippling water for so long. “I said: Shut. Up.”

“Why don’t you make me then!” You argued, kicking out in an attempt to rile her up, only to be captured by her strong grip before the sole of your foot could make contact with her thigh. You yelped in surprise when she pulled you down, your head falling onto the lower section of the lounge chair, your knees bent as your uncaptured foot remained steadily on the edge of the chair.

Her lips were on yours in a bruising kiss before you could recover from the abrupt change in position, her body hovering above yours as to not rub against the syrup slowly trickling down your body and staining your bikini top. Her lips were cold against yours, and as she descended down your body, shivers erupted across your spine, not only from the sensation of her icy lips against your pulse point, but in anticipation. Instinctively your thighs fell open, welcoming her body between them, which she appreciated and made sure to acknowledge. You moaned pathetically when her core ground into yours, her mound appling an addictive pressure to your clit.

“Daddy-” You whimpered, your bratty exterior melting away faster than your popsicle as her fingers worked to unravel the knot holding your bikini in place at the nape of your neck, her tongue following the trail of vibrant red syrup down your exposed breast. You gasped when the flimsy material was discarded, her lips wasting no time before they captured your nipple, her teeth biting down on the pebbled bud deliciously hard. A whimpered whine alerted Wanda of your current predicament, yet all the redhead offered was an amused laugh before she dove head first into the water again.

“Do you know what you were doing to me, utenok? Do you know how badly I wanted to come over here and replace that fucking popsicle? You’re all bark and no bite. The second Daddy’s lips are on those needy little nipples all you can do is whine. It’s pathetic.” She sneered, her tone laced with calculated mockery as she kept a firm grip on the stick of your treat, apparently not yet done with it.

Your bottoms were the next thing to go, leaving your body dressed in only a pair of designer sunglasses and red syrup. The last thing you’d been expecting was for her to bite the rest of your ice pop off the stick, swallowing it whole and attacking your unsuspecting cunt, but you watched it happen as if the world was in slow motion, felt the sensations creep into your bones as if they were merely in a movie, but all at once it caught up to you, and the sheer shock of her cold mouth against your hot center had your back arching off the lounge chair, inadvertently pushing your center farther into her face.

She lapped at your cunt with fervent motions. Her teeth nipped, her lips suckled, and her tongue; there were no words to describe the sensations her tongue provoked as she plunged it deep within your core, massaging your sensitive inner walls and your g-spot before she allowed it to soothe your clit with harsh stroke and flicks. Your moans were breathy as you grasped at her hair, pulling harshly at red curls that tickled your thighs as they fell over her shoulders, not sodden with water like Wandas, although for a fleeting second you wondered what it would feel like to have the saturated woman undoing you so passionately.

“Daddy!” You cried out when you felt the approaching pleasure of your orgasm building, your hands pushing at her head, unsure of what you craved more of and what was entirely too much. You whimpered when you felt the stretch of her fingers coming home to your pussy, allowing you no adjustment period as two fingers plunged deep into your cunt, replacing her tongue that instead sought out your tingling bud of hypersensitive nerves. “Daddy! Daddy!” Her name was a sacred mantra on your lips, falling into the air as you writhed beneath her strong grip, attempting to drive her farther into your body.

“You gonna cum? Are you gonna cum for me, parshivets? My filthy fucking girl, getting fucked outside, where anyone can hear you? Is that what you want? You want Agatha to hear you? I bet her windows open. I bet she’s inside, sitting at her table trying to read, but she can’t because all she can hear are your desperate fucking moans as your Daddy fucks you.” Natasha’s words sent vibrations through your core, pushing you closer and closer to the brink of pleasure, though she never permitted it. She never once gave you the answer you needed to fully enjoy it, and fiercely, you fought off your approaching orgasm because of that silent denial.

When her fingers curled into you, massaging that delicate spot that had you seeing stars, you almost begged for her to stop, to lighten up, but before you could, she gave you the one thing you needed. “Cum for me. Make a mess.” Natasha encouraged, rapturing your pulsating clit and spasming walls, drinking all of your pleasure before she pulled away, her mouth glistening, her fingers sparkling. You gasped for breath, chest rising and falling as you panted, the heat only heightening your breathlessness. “You don’t know how long I’ve been holding out for. Wanda thought I’d break the second you unwrapped that fucking popsicle.”

Sheepishly, you giggled softly, readjusting your sunglasses when Natasha stood up and moved aside, the sun falling over your body once more. “I didn’t realize until you came over here. I wasn’t even doing it on purpose.” You admitted, though Natasha had already known that.

“Oh, I know. You’re just too fucking tempting for your own good.” She giggled, kissing your lips sweetly, your arousal still coating her tongue as she licked at your lips teasingly. When she pulled away, she glanced down at the stick in her hands, a soft laugh falling off her lips. “Why did the book join the police force?”

“He wanted to be undercover!” Wanda bellowed from the pool, apparently honed in on your conversation despite how frequently she disappeared beneath the welcoming water.

“I’m all sticky now.” You pouted, realizing that the syrup, despite being licked off, had left a reside on your skin.

“I guess you’ll just have to join us then.” Before you could acknowledge her, Natasha had picked you up in her arms, your bathing suit still discarded on the grass in a messy heap of fabric, although the picket fence around the property prevented you from being seen, so it didn’t matter much if you out it back on or not. You shrieked when you realized what she was doing, but before you could plead for your freedom, she’d dropped you into the deep end.

“Nat!” You scolded when you resurfaced, your freshly washed hair now soiled by the salt water that dampened it.

“Oops?” Your girlfriend sang sweetly, jumping in right beside you, capturing you in her tight embrace with faux sympathy. “Go get Wanda.” She whispered in your ear, and that was enough to win her forgiveness, immediately seeking out your other girlfriend who pretended to despise the way you clung to her like a koala.

“I love you.” You mumbled against her lips, catching her by surprise though not an unpleasant one.

“I thought I got you strawberry. Sorry, baby.” She apologized softly, holding tightly to your naked ass, giving it a teasing spank beneath the water.

“That’s okay. Cherry’s Nat’s favorite.”

[my-castles-crumbling]

exercise - jegulus -September 19th - @stag-microfic - word count: 137

Sirius blinked, looking back and forth between Regulus and James, still a bit stunned. "Really?" he asked, though he knew asking wouldn't change anything.

"Yeah," James nodded nervously as Regulus rolled his eyes, gripping James's hand.

But it was a lot to process. "Every time you went to study by yourself? All those times you went on runs?"

"I was meeting Regulus, yeah," James agreed, nodding again with a sheepish smile.

But that didn't make sense. Sometimes, James would come back from with pink cheeks and damp hair, like he'd obviously been exercising. "But, you went on actual runs sometimes, right? Because you came back all sweaty and gross and-"

But he cut off when he took in Regulus's proud smirk, along with James's deeply uncomfortable expression.

"Oh, ew!" he shouted, connecting the dots. "Oh, come on!"

[ssahotchnerr]

how about girl!dad hotch taking the family to the pumpkin patch??

sweater weather

AW cw; fem!reader, protective girl dad!aaron, playful banter, and a wholeee lot of domestic fluff <3 (and i mean a lot) wc; 1.1k

"Sweetheart, do you know where Ellie's hat is?"

"Hat?" You finally managed to get Jack's boot on his foot, he definitely needed to size up before winter officially commenced. "It should be in her bag, if it was packed to begin with."

It was Saturday morning; instead of sleeping in, starting off the day slow, Aaron had insisted on getting to the pumpkin farm the literal second it opened, in order to beat the October crowds.

And the earlier it was, the chillier it was outside too.

The temperature had just started dropping consistently; you've had a mild September, as well as a warm beginning to the month. But now, it was just past ten, and it was bordering within the mid to high 40s.

And so, before any fun was had, Aaron took it upon himself to bundle up Ellie in her warmest coat - along with a fuzzy hat, a pair of gloves. She looked rather uneasy as each layer grew, but simply allowed her father to indulge in bundling her up with zero protests.

She was an easy baby, now almost-toddler; never too fussy, just happy to be there, and more than thrilled to simply be in the presence of her dad (who notably was also wearing thermal, autumn attire.)

You, on the other hand, would never miss an opportunity to poke fun at your husband.

"Aaron." You laughed gently, your eyebrows crinkling as you took Jack's hand, helping him out of the car.

He peered across the middle at you, his hands halting as he secured Ellie's hat onto her head. A quizzical yet amused expression appeared on his face as he saw you were entertained. "What?"

"It's not that cold." You teased, before diverting your attention elsewhere for a moment - offering the instructions to stay close to Jack, other families beginning to pull into the parking lot - before back to Aaron. "A coat is really all she needs."

He rolled his eyes as you laughed again, pulling Ellie's hat down a bit more gently to ensure her ears were covered. "It's cold enough. And the wind isn't helping either, huh Ellie?"

"Cold." She repeated, shivering gently.

"See." He tossed you a playful smirk, before gazing fondly at his daughter. "That's right."

Once satisfied she was thoroughly warm, Aaron hoisted Ellie on his side to allow him a free hand to close the door. He then walked around the front of the car, meeting you, and poking your side jokingly.

You swatted his hand away with a giggle, your face lighting up. "You ready to pick out a pumpkin Jackers? You're going to need to help out your sister too, she doesn't quite know how this works."

"Yeah!" Jack nodded enthusiastically, eyes pleading. "Can we carve it when we get home?"

"Sure." Aaron agreed, although feigning a timid expression. "Not too scary of a face though, right?"

Jack shook his head, grinning. "The scariest."

As the four of you entered the farm, Ellie's brown eyes grew, as there were numerous festivities to look at and absorb. Instantly, she began attempting to wiggle her way out of Aaron's hold, pointing forward and whining in impatience.

He put her down softly and her little legs carried her over to her brother, babbling his name as she attempted to catch up.

"Jack," You alerted gently, your own pace picking up a tad until she was at his side.

"I know, I got her." He took a hold of his sister's hand, clutching onto it tightly. "I can show her where the little pumpkins are. Those are more Ellie-sized."

"Who's the protective one now?" Aaron teased, a playful smirk adorned on his face as he looked at you.

"You hush."

Ellie inevitably slowed Jack down - not new to walking as she was nearly two, but definitely new when it came to navigating in boots.

It was entertaining nonetheless, adorable as she waddled slightly in imbalance.

And Jack, the best brother there ever was, was patient; sticking to her speed, even pointing at different things for her to take notice of: the maze with cornstalks towering over, farm animals, the pumpkins.

Aaron and yourself fell a few feet behind, allowing them to lead the way. However, you couldn't help but let your gaze switch and linger on Aaron.

Your heart warmed from the happiness radiating off his face; his eyes doing that sparkling thing you adored, or his lips pulling into a smile as he watched the kids. It was subtle, in complete Aaron Hotchner fashion, but the most exceedingly obvious thing to you.

Aaron felt your stare, meeting it, "Can't keep your eyes off me today, can you?"

"Can you blame me? Just look at you." You quipped in return, grabbing ahold of his forearm and nestling into his side. All joking aside, "I love seeing you happy, is all."

"Yeah well," A full smile escaped him, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you more against him if possible, smushing you into his side. "I have a lot to be happy for."

You beamed up at him, laying your head into him in a makeshift embrace. "I'm glad."

Aaron pressed a long kiss into your temple. It would've been more lasting, but Ellie tripped forward, causing him to quickly move forward to help her back to her feet.

"Hey you're okay." He consoled quickly to prevent any meltdowns, her bottom lip protruding and eyes watering. He swiftly wiped the traces of dirt that smeared onto her jacket. "You're alright."

Pumpkin picking was a little chaotic - Jack busied himself with the task of selecting the biggest pumpkin he could possibly find, and periodically would advance a bit too far - you'd have to remind him to stay near.

Meanwhile, Ellie attempted to pick up nearly every pumpkin she found. She would pick one, hand it to Aaron. Pick another, and repeat, all while squealing in delight. If it were up to her, she would bring the entire patch home.

You of course, took a multitude of pictures to share with the BAU family, as well as collecting memories of your own: Aaron cheesing with the two of them, Jack and his prized large pumpkin, Ellie with her own little pile, and the two of them sitting on a hay bale.

But finally - with the crowd heightening, and nap time approaching - Aaron kneeled in front of Ellie, a small pumpkin in each hand. "Which one you wanna take home, pumpkin?"

You snorted a soft laugh at his pun, Aaron peered up at you knowingly.

Ellie studied the two of them, before her tiny hands clasped onto the one on his right, pausing with almost hesitant happiness; wanting her dad's approval she made the right decision.

And of course, Aaron's grin widened. "Great job, honey. It's the perfect choice."

You smiled to yourself.

Aaron was right - there was a lot to be happy for.

[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.”

[sturnsdarling]

'you look like this song'

{insp by @sturnioz au} smartand'mean'!reader is getting ready in fratboy!Matts room whilst listening to Nirvana, and he can't keep his eyes, or hands, off of her.

vibe check: fluffy smut with no real plot, everyone's (my) fave

2k words

A/N: This is for the anon who's having a shitty month, i hope you love it and i hope it makes your september a little better. I had this idea after Matt was listening to nirvana on stream, i need to sit in his room and listen to music whilst i get ready on his floor and i need it NOW.

love and cigs, merc

You were sat on Matts bedroom floor, wearing nothing but a black lingerie set and a pair of fishnet tights with the crotch ripped out, a gift from you to Matt from a previous bathroom hookup. Your legs were crossed underneath you as you did your makeup in the body length mirror that you had found on the street, and claimed as your makeup mirror in Matts room.

You tugged at your eye slightly, smoking out the black liner you had just applied, effortlessly achieving that 'slightly fucked out but still hot' look that had become your signature style. Your playlist was on a loop, always hooking your phone up to Matts speakers regardless of whether or not he was there or not. 'Smells like teen spirit' by Nirvana began to play, the steady drums making the floor vibrate slightly.

The door clicked open, and Matt walked in the room, looking at his phone and bopping his backward cap clad head along to the music before turning his attention to you. You looked to him in the reflection from your spot on the floor and, of course, he was already looking at you. You shot him a small smile before returning to your makeup, moving onto applying a dark burgundy lip with a slightly open mouth.

Matt came to stand behind you, caressing your slightly tangled hair with a large hand. His hand came down to the side of your face and slid down your jaw, watching you intently in the mirror. Your focus didn't waver, still focused on your makeup as you patted and rubbed your plump, dark lips together.

Matt felt as if his mouth had began to water at the sight of you, his hand coming down to your jaw as the song continued to play in the background. He tugged at the bottom of your jaw, moving your head so you were looking up at him from your perched position on the floor, him towering behind you.

"hey, tough girl" Matt smirked, his hand snaking its way up and down your neck with soft fingers.

You smiled in return, batting your lashes at him like a cat, "hi, Matthew"

"you look sexy as fuck right now, you know that?" He said, his words rolling off his tongue like honey.

You chuckled slightly, rolling your eyes and attempting to return to doing your makeup, Matt tutted at your slight attitude with faux anger, pulling your head back up to face him as he leaned down on bent knees, capturing your neck in his hand and kissing you roughly.

The force he kissed you with sent you backwards, Matt catching you in his lap as he met you on the floor. Your head was cradled in his legs, your view of him upside down. Kurt Cobain was shredding on the guitar, the sound giving your face a whole new beauty that Matt was lost in.

"you look like this song" Matt muttered, in awe of how completely beautiful you were.

You couldn't help but laugh, lifting yourself up and turning round to face him, your legs tucked under you like a baby deer, "what?" you said with a smile.

Matt brought a hand to your jaw, swiping his thumb along your smudged lipstick, knowing it was probably stained on his mouth too,

"y'know how this song makes you feel when you listen to it? like you're vibrating, you can feel every cell in your body and your heart thumpin' in your chest so hard it could break a rib" Matt said, quoting you the first time you played this song in his presence.

"yeah?" You smirked with furrowed brows, letting Matt poke and prod at your puffy bottom lip.

"thats how you make me feel, when I look at you" Matt finally brought his eyes to yours.

Matts words made you feel warm all over, you couldn't even muster up a reply, the only thing in your mind being how not only was that easily the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to you, but how all you wanted to do in that moment was pin matt to the floor and ride in him into oblivion for remembering your exact words about one of your favourite songs of all time.

His eyes were pouring into yours, your breathing got slightly heavier and your mouth parted. The song was coming to end, steady drums and repeated 'hellos' being the only sound in the room as you attempted to form a sentence in reply to Matt.

Nothing you could think to say was coherent, or appropriate for the time frame in which you'd known each other so, you did the one thing you knew Matt would understand.

You threw yourself into him, capturing your lips in his with feverish passion, pressing your tongue against his almost immediately. Matt welcomed your attack, kissing you back with matched desperation. You crawled onto his lap, straddling him and raking your hands through the tangled curls at the nape of his neck, pulling his hat off to give you better access to his soft brown hair.

Matts hands were on your waist, pulling you down into him as he lowered you both onto the floor, his back pressing against the hard wood. His hands snuck up your nearly bare back, the feeling of his skin against yours sending you into a frenzy. Every press of his finger tips felt like hot wax as you quietly moaned into his mouth, grinding your hips against his, trying to chase any friction you could.

Matt tensed at your movements, hips rutting up into yours involuntarily as you pushed your barely clothed pussy down on his growing bulge.

"need it, now" you whimpered into the kiss, your words demanding but your tone desperate.

Matt chuckled, "right now, angel? thought you were gettin' ready?" he muttered into your mouth, chasing your lips.

"right now" you replied, speaking in two word sentences, unable to shake the fever that had overcome you.

Matt smirked and slid his hands down your back and over your fishnet covered ass, pulling apart your cheeks slightly, making you arch above him like a cat. Your hands left his hair and dipped in between the two of you, you fiddled with the button of his jeans, snaking your cold hand into his jeans.

Matt let out a short hiss, and you captured his mouth in yours once more, pumping him as best you could under the restriction of his jeans. Matt moaned into your mouth, and brought his hand down to your ass, smacking it in encouragement. You used your other hand to fumble with the top of his jeans, pushing them down with needy whines and whimpers into the messy kiss.

Once you had managed to free Matt of his jeans, him doing nothing to help, enjoying watching you be so desperate for his cock, you sat up, still pumping him in your hand as you did. Matt watched in awe, with your lipstick smudged over your face and your eyes fluttering with needy ache, you'd never looked more beautiful.

Matt came up slightly to rest on his elbows, eyes still trained on yours. You brought your free hand to his mouth and swiped your middle and index over his stained lips, Matt knew what you wanted, and took your hand in his, opening it into a small bowl in front of his mouth. He held eye contact with you, and collected his saliva on his tongue, spitting it into your palm. You smiled, taking your now wet hand and replacing the hand on his cock with it.

The feeling of your sticky hand against his cock made his head roll back on its hinge, eyes fluttering as a low groan left his mouth. You shifted your hand up and down his length, rubbing his spit all over his throbbing shaft and over his leaking pink head. Shifting slightly, you lifted yourself up, pulling your underwear to the side and lining Matts tip up with your aching hole.

You lowered down onto him, the burning stretch of his cock filling you up as you sunk down inciting a breathless moan from you, nudging your puffy clit against the scattering of hair at the base of his cock as you let him nestle into you completely.

Matts mouth was opened wide, his head snapping back up to watch as you sucked him into your tight walls completely, brows burrowed at the sensation of you clenching around him.

You began to move, resting your hands against his chest as leverage as you moved to place the bottoms of your feet against the floor, squatting on top of him.

The new angle made your pussy grip Matts cock in a way he'd never experienced before,

"oh fuck" Matt said through gritted teeth as you began to bounce on him.

You were lost in it, his earlier words playing on repeat in your mind as you moved up and down his veiny cock, relishing in the sting of him stretching out your unprepared pussy. Despite the lack of foreplay, you were soaked, and you could feel yourself leaking sticky juices against the base of his cock every time he bottomed out side of you.

Whimpering, desperate moans left your throat as you fucked him, taking him as deep as you could, milking him with every bounce. Matt couldn't keep his eyes off where the two of you met, watching as you rose up and down on his length, his whole body tingling at the feeling of your tight pussy coupled with the slight sting of your nails digging into your chest.

"m'gonna cum if you keep riding me like this, angel" Matt said, breathlessly as he reluctantly tore his eyes from your skin slapping against his and met your eye line.

"s'what I want, cum inside me, please" you mumbled, begging as you relentlessly milked his cock.

"you - fuck - you know the rules, angel, you -" Matt cut himself off with a moan, "you cum first" his eyes flit back to the sight of your perfect pussy taking him, and he brought his thumb up to your mouth, pushing it inside and laying it against your warm tongue.

You pushed your tongue against his digit, wrapping your lips around his lowest knuckle with a small hum. Matt pulled his thumb from your mouth with a pop, taking his free hand and using it to push you up slightly, giving him better access to your clit and the perfect opportunity to wrap his hand round your throat.

Matt laid back completely onto the floor, with one hand on your throat, and the other working your clit, he watched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, unable to control your contorting face as he worked a relentless pace on your sensitive nub. You picked up your speed, ignoring the ache in your thighs as you desperately worked to get Matt to cum.

"tell m-" you stuttered, "tell me again"

Matt smirked, the events of the last few minutes adding up in his mind, you liked it when he told you how he felt about you, without actually telling you.

"you look like a Nirvana song, angel, so pretty n' so messy, all for me" He cooed, trying his best to make his words clear despite his fucked out, wavering tone.

"mphm" your brows knit together, you shifted your position, straddling him once more to grind your hips back and forth against his.

The drag of your pussy against his base, along with the wet, sticky pace Matt was setting on your clit and his perfect words made you see stars, and you came all over his cock, vision going blurry as you reached your high.

You moaned out his name, unable to stop the noises that left your mouth as you shook above him, legs tensing around his hips and nails digging little crescent moons into his chest.

"fuck, pretty girl, you look s'good when you cum all over my cock" Matt said, bringing a hand to hold your hip, grinding you down onto him faster as you started to get lightheaded.

"y'want me to fill you up, angel? soak your perfect pussy in my cum whilst your favourite songs play in the background?" Matt mumbled, slowing his pace on your clit and moving his other hand to your hip.

"please" you whimpered

Matt didn't need any more permission, he lifted you up slightly, the movement making you flop forward onto him, catching yourself with a hand round his jaw. Without warning, he began to pound into you, using his grip on your hips as leverage to mercilessly fuck your weeping pussy.

You let out a broken moan, trying to capture his lips in yours but failing, trailing wet, sloppy pecks on his mouth as he thrust into you at a feverish pace, grunting and groaning at the feeling of you clenching around him.

"so fuckin' needy for me, tough girl, all because I told you somthin' nice" Matt said though gritted teeth, "you feel as good as you look, y'know that?"

You couldn't even begin to muster a reply, only moans spilling from your mouth as Matts relentless pace into your pussy made you completely cock dumb. With a few hard, long thrusts, Matt buried himself inside you completely, dick twitching in your walls as he coated them with his cum, moaning your name as he went limp beneath you.

You breathed into each others mouths, foreheads rested against each others as your body weight relaxed down onto him.

"you gonna keep getting ready, angel?" Matt mumbled, pulling out of you.

"mhm" you nodded breathlessly, "just need a minute"

Matt chuckled, wrapping his tattooed arms around you as you caught your breath on top of him. "okay tough girl" He said, just before pressing a long kiss into the side of your head.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10 @cherib3lla @jetaimevous @witchofthehour

[lmaowhatt]

pogue beach night - jj m.

summary: the pogues have come back to obx as a form of unwinding after jjs near death experience in morocco, at the hands of his biological father, deciding that a beach day in their 'safe-haven' would be best.

set: i chat gpt'd the timelines and it says the start of s4 is based around early 2024, which doesnt make sense because s3 (after the 18 month time jump) for me ended around march 2023. so, we will act like sarah found out she was pregnant may 2023 and baby jj was born february 2024. since she is seven months, well pretend this is mid-september 2024.

one - two - three - four

psa: jarah had their baby and named her josephine joy. she is around 7 months.

pairing: jj maybank x pogue!reader

warnings: suggestive words/topics, talks of pregnancy, pregnancy trope, cursing.

if theres any others feel free to let me know!

the sun has only just began to set as the scenery changed from small rundown houses, trees on the edge of the streets of the cut to miles and miles of sand that never seemed to end, along with the sound of waves crashing against the shore as jj whooped from hit spot in the twinkie behind john b, who was in the drivers seat.

"i love this shit guys. its like christmas and sex rolled into one." the boy smiled giddily, everyone else in the twinkie twisting their faces with looks of disgust. "why those two things together, jj?" pope voiced, a grimace evident as jj turned in his seat to face him. "you dont want the deets, pope." he patted the boys shoulder in false sympathy, only causing pope to sit back in his seat with a quiet groan, shoving jjs hand off.

you let your mouth drop agape, slapping the boys chest with a small gasp once he sat back upright, "youre so disgusting." the boy only retaliated with a shit-eating grin on his face, "im still injured, y'know? you somehow wound me more, baby." he jokes. leaning down slightly to mutter in your ear, "plus, with all the 'disgusting' pleas i had you whimpering into my ear last night, i think we can both say youre equally as 'disgusting', hm?" you could only roll your eyes as jj brought his fingers into a quotation mark, a smirk playing on his face as a blush crept onto your cheeks, which only caused jj to smile triumphantly and sit back to look out the window.

john b could only groan quietly from the drivers seat, fake gagging as sarah stifled a laugh from next to him. the boy was never a good whisperer.

this was one of those very special days in the pogues lives where everything in the eight pogues lives was calm. the group was able to get their home and business back after finding a loophole in the paperwork that was filed when it was taken from them.

it was one of those rare days when everyone had a moment to themselves—either taking a break from the bait-and-tackle shop, calming baby josephine joy, or simply having nothing to do. it was a beach day, at least for the pogues it was. from your spot between jj's legs, you watched as kiara played with baby jj, the little girl's hands wrapped around kies thumbs. you watched as kies boyfriend, james, watched her and baby jj with a small smile.

you smiled, leaning back into jj’s stomach as you fiddled with his ring-clad hand, his other hand gently massaging the back of your head. "alright, guys," john b called to the group as he shifted the twinkie into park.

"we have arrived." he finished with a droopy smile and squinted eyes, causing kie to snort, "okay, batman." she joked, erupting small laughs from the rest of the group as they climbed out of the twinkie one by one.

when jj stepped out of the twinkie, he held a hand out for you, which you accepted gratefully with a small smile directed towards him. he helped everyone else out of the twinkie, or more so stood there holding the door until the last person, pope came out.

jj slapped the boy's butt with a flat palm as he shut the twinkie door. pope gasped, while cleo chuckled softly, careful not to give jj the satisfaction of knowing he’d made even the toughest of the group laugh with a very, very terrible joke.

when you and the girls looked away to help john b get the things off the roof of the twinkie, pope blew a fake kiss to jj, one which the blonde caught in his hands, holding it to his chest like a 1960's sitcom.

the two laughed almost immediately after, wrapping an arm around each others shoulders as they walked to where the rest of the group was now setting up chairs and towels not too far from the shore.

jjs eyes shifted to where you were with baby jj as pope left his side to go to where cleo was. he smiled as josephine rested on your hip and you pointed out different views in the distance and she babbled along. he approached your left side, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, running his fingers along josephines scalp.

you smiled up at him, leaning into his chest slightly, "y'know..." he trailed off as he looked down at you with the same affectionate smile. "maybe one day we could have one of these lil' munchkins." he finished as he took note of your immediate surprised smile. you truly didnt expected hed be one to commit to kids.

"uh, um. i mean like- obviously like- i mean later into our relationship, y'know? shit- sorry." he stammered as he removed his hand from your shoulder with a sheepish smile. you laughed, placing your non occupied hand on his shoulder, "baby, dont worry. i just didnt think youd be one to commit to a kid," you explained with a small smile, rubbing your thumb along his shoulder.

he shrugged, now a little more relieved, "i d'know mama, you're changing me," he bumped your shoulder with his playfully, earning a small laugh from you, only widening his smile. "well, im glad," you say before looking towards josie, who held a strand of your hair in her small hand. "id be up for one, later, y'know. plus, i think youd be a good dad." you turned back to jj with a smile.

his heart warmed at your small compliment. "really? y'think so?" you nodded at him, turning slightly to hand josephine off to sarah who had come over with her hands slightly outstretched. you closed your finger to your palm repeatedly as a small goodbye as she did the same. you smiled, turning back to jj, "yeah, i know.. uhm, what you went through," you nodded cautiously.

"and.. i know youll push to be the furthest from that," you finish as he smiles, genuinely. he felt a small tear threaten to fall from the corner of his eye, so, he quickly pulled you into a hug, hoping you didnt catch his teary eyes. you huffed a breath of air out slightly before wrapping your arms around his waist.

you felt him shake slightly so you pulled away, placing your hands on either side of his face guiding him to face you. you tilted your head to the side with a small pout, rubbing your thumb on his undereye with a small chuckle. "baby, dont cry. im sorry," you apologized, moving your gaze back to his eyes.

"shit, youre right. were at the fuckin' beach," he scoffed removing his face from your hands, trying to dismiss his own feelings. "hey, dont do that. c'mere." you tugged his hand slightly back towards you as he tried to walk away. "i didnt mean it like that, im sorry. i didnt mean to make you cry, baby. i just- i mean i know if we ever had a kid, youll be the greatest dad ever." you wiped another tear that had fallen, "i know all the shit youve been through, dont think you cant cry because of that, mkay?"

you smiled as he nodded, "yeah, okay." he tilted his head slightly, wiping his own eyes. "you okay now? im sorry for saying like you cant cr-" you continued until he shook his head, pulling you into another hug, placing a lingering kiss to your forehead. "thank you, mamas." he muttered into your hair as you hugged his upper torso. "'course my love." you smiled up at him as he pulled away. wrapping your arms around his neck, you placed a small kiss onto his lips.

"okay," you patted his chest. twice, glancing at the water, "go, have fun." you smiled at him before pointing a stern finger in his direction, "be careful with that cut, alright? its still healing." you raised his shirt slightly to look at the gash on his left abdomen. he chuckled, pulling his shirt back down, "hey, we cant do that here," he joked as you pushed his chest with your lips pulled into a line.

"im serious. just please be careful!" you called after him with a small smile on your face as he ran into the water where john b, pope and james were playing around with baby josephine. you ran a hand through your hair as you approached the girls, "you trust your husband and those idiots with her, sarah?" kie asked with a small laugh, earning laughs from the other girls. "not really, but i can tolerate him so, its fine. plus he knows how pissed i get even when he tosses her in the air, so.." she shrugged, sitting down on her towel.

you shook your head with a small laugh, "im happy you two finally got married- or were able to. youve been together since you two were like sixteen." you sat down on jjs lawn chair, towel placed over it. sarah furrowed her eyebrows in mock offense, "okay, well you and jj have been together almost three years, i dont see you two moving along," she states matter of factly, "we have not," you scoffed in return.

cleo raised her eyebrows, "yes you have, girl. right before we left to south america, remember?" she moved her head forwards slightly as if to get her point across further. you face slightly dropped, "shit, we have. i mean- after everything i kinda lost track of time." kie nodded in understanding, "girl, youll be okay. i forgot about me and james first anniversary because of everything thats happened," you, sarah and cleo laughed, "he forgot too so," the girl shrugged. "made me feel better," she added sheepishly as you and the other girls laughed once again.

the early afternoon soon turned into early to mid dusk, the sun had just set beyond the horizon, setting a yellow hue onto the beach as the boy started a fire, more so playing around than actually lighting said fire. "john b! please, be careful!" sarah called out to the man as he played around with josephine too close to the fire for the umpteenth time.

"jeez, that man is going to give me a heart attack," she muttered to the girls as they grabbed multiple of the things set down to move to where the guys where setting up. you laughed, "'bout time. hes been giving me an aneurysm since grade school." you and kie both laughed with a small high five, "jj, too. join the club girl." kie quipped as cleo nodded, "guess i got lucky," she shrugs, motioning to pope who was busy with james actually setting up the fire.

you narrowed your eyes at her as the four of you walked towards the guys and baby jj, "once these guys corrupt him, youll join the club too, girl. dont worry," you mocked her with a small kissy face, one to which she rolled her eyes to. "they already corrupted james. couldn't keep him innocent for even a year," kie fake wiped a tear from her eyes, the other girls laughing.

almost immediately, sarah handed john b the things in her hand and grabbed josephine from his shoulders, placing her on her hip and handing her a random toy she had in her diaper bag.

you handed jj the things in your hands too, more politely than sarah had. "can you set this up please, j?" you questioned, placing a small kiss on his lips. he smiled at the gesture, "yes ma'am," he saluted you, hitting himself in the face with the bag of food they brought. you laughed with a shake of your head, walking off to where sarah was sitting, the backseat entrance of the twinkie, door open.

you turned slightly to where baby josie was, sitting on the floor of the twinkie as she sat and played with random toys, "y'know.. jj said he wants to start trying for one," you told sarah, who was watching you and josie. "really? him?" she asked as she moved closer into the twinkie. you nodded in response with a small chuckle, "yeah, i was surprised too. but," you shrugged, "i dont know. i wouldnt be opposed to it,"

she pushed your shoulder playfully, "youd be a good mom, seriously. and i know for a fact hed be a good dad." she reassures, to which you nod your head, "yeah, i know." sarah furrows her eyebrows, "whats wrong?" she asked. you shook your head, "its nothing. i was just caught by surprise with it, y'know?"

the blonde in front of you smiled sympathetically, "i get it, honey. but at least you know he wants this. i was scared shitless when i found out about josie, didnt even wanna imagine john bs reaction." the woman began, mentioning the previous conversation the two of you had.

"but jj came to you, basically saying he was ready, i dont think you have to worry about that. but, he wont be pissed if youre not ready, he loves you." she placed a hand on your shoulder, tilting her head slightly. you nodded, moving your hands to pick josephine up, placing her on your lap as he placed her hands on both sides of your face.

you smiled, "one of these would be really cute," you looked at josies baby features, in awe. from her chubby thighs, to her small pigtails adorned with small white bows, you smiled. you heard a small crashing sound, looking up at jj, who was now lying flat on the sand as john b fake stabbed a stick into his chest, "god, would that baby be an idiot though," sarah laughed, which only caused a laugh to erupt from your throat as well. handing baby josie back to sarah, the both of you stood and approached the other six, all sat with their respective couple around the fire.

you approached jj as he sat down, sitting down next to him and placing your legs over his lap. you moved your head to rest on his chest, his arm going around your shoulders while he moved his other hand onto your thigh closest to him. "you okay?" he asked, looking down at you with a small smile. you nodded, "im okay, baby," you assured him.

he rubbed small circles on your thigh as the high energy settled. the boys were quietly conversing with each other, beers in hand as the girls pitched in every now and then, mostly enjoying the small moment of peace they had gotten after going through years of torment and bad news.

this was it.

the pogue life.

[honeytonedhottie]

HONEYS IT GIRL MAGAZINE september edition⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎀

welcome back to honeys it girl magazine, this is the september catalog. get ready for the inside scoop on data that i've collected, things i've learned/started doing, and just general info like that organized in kind of a teen-magazine inspired fashion. a magazine for it girls ✨ and now please enjoy, the it girl magazine.

YOUR GUIDE TO VINTAGE GLAM ;

lately i've been OBSESSED with vintage glam. their makeup is so dramatized and utterly stunning and it just has this timeless elegance to it. so im super duper excited to dive into that in this catalogue…💬🎀

♡ a classic red lip

♡ winged eyeliner

♡ lush lashes

♡ defined brows (arched brows like betty boop)

♡ faux beauty marks

♡ soft eyeshadows

♡ a big bouncy blow out

♡ pearls and diamonds cuz diamonds are a girl's best friend

other details that can really capture the essence of a vintage glam look include pearl necklaces and earrings, cat-eye sunglasses, or a structured handbag. remember, its all about enhancing natural elegance with just the right amount of drama and UMPH.

you can see with this page of my fashion journal where i styled some vintage glam looks. so i incorporated silkier textures and long dresses for that old hollywood charm. idk what it is about hand gloves but they just SCREAM elegance and beauty so i incorporated that into the first outfit.

clutches are SO vintage glam and gorgeous and as u can see i incorporated pearls into the second outfit in the earrings, bracelet and neck piece.

FALL FASHION ;

fall fashion to me is tights and mini skirts. leg warmers and uggs and form fitting sweaters. let’s talk about some fall fashion. the tights and mini skirt combo is a classic and it’s an amazing way to incorporate wearing mini skirts even as the weather begins to get a little colder. the tights add a nice touch, even if it isn’t the color of ur skin tone, tights IN GENERAL look rly nice.

ankle boots, ugg boots, BOOTS are so so fall. i rly love ankle boots that have a heel to them and bonus points if ur fall shoes include fur. the fall shoes on my shopping list are ->

ugg boots

ankle boots

mary jane style shoes

ballet flats

form fitting sweaters and jackets are so in for the fall. along with tracksuits. the color pallete for having a bambi doll fall are very much browns, cashmeres, and baby pink. honestly think of neapolitan colours. pink, brown and an off-whitish almost pastel yellow. think PASTRY PRINCESS.

baby phat puffers are perfect for the transition from fall to winter and a good pair of jeans is CRUCIAL for fall. another thing i wanna talk about with fall fashion is LAYERING. layering is such an important aspect of fashion period but ESPECIALLY fall fashion. experiment with different lengths, textures etc. one of my favorite layering combination during the fall is ->

long sleeve tops with a camisole underneath

a form fitting long sleeve top (the ones with buttons at the front) look so DOLLY and adorable when u dont button it, and wear a camisole underneath. its just MWAH. some more fall fashion details also include ->

fur details

ribbons and lace details

delicate jewelry choices

tights and leg warmers

layering

boots

neopolitan cinnamon princess color scheme

long sleeves

mini skirts + tights combo

BEING A HOTTIE THIS FALL ;

fall is such an easy season to romanticize! and what better way to romanticize the fall then to make a pinterest board or a mood board. in this section of the magazine lets talk about things that u can do this fall to make ur fall SUPER memorable…💬🎀

♡ make cinnamon rolls (recipe is in the section before horoscope)

♡ go apple picking

♡ read a spooky/mystery novel

♡ pumpkin spice latte!

♡ invest in a yummy fall scented candle and light it often to make ur space smell like fall

fall beauty incorporates things like nude lip combos, warmer scents and french tips!…💬🎀

♡ soft bouncy curls

♡ nude lip combos

i recommend the nyx butter gloss (madeleine) and the nyx chocolate lip liner for a pretty chocolaty look. if ur looking for another nude lip combo use the nyx butter gloss (angel food cake) and the nyx club hopper lip liner…💬🎀

♡ french tips

♡ nude colored manicures and pedicures

♡ coffin and stiletto shaped nails

CINNAMON ROLLS RECIPE ;

nothing screams fall to me more than cinnamon rolls. they're just so yummy and cinnamony and so FALL. so here is a recipe to make ur very own cinnamon rolls this fall.

♡ in a mixing bowl, add 1 cup of warm milk

♡ 1/4 cup of sugar and 2 1/2 teaspoons of active dry yeast and give it a little mix

now set this aside for 5 minutes or until its frothed up. if it DOESNT froth up then ur yeast is not okay and ur gonna have to start again…💬🎀

♡ 4 2/3 cups of all purpose flour, 1/3 cup packed light brown sugar, 1/2 teaspoon of salt, half a teaspoon of cinnamon

♡ melt half a cup of butter and add it into the dry mixture and mix everything together in ur mixer but dont mix before adding 1 large egg and a tablespoon of vanilla extract

♡ now turn on ur mixture and knead the dough until its tacky but doesnt stick to ur fingers

♡ now get an oiled up bowl and put the dough in, and cover with a sheet. put it in a warm place so that then ur dough can rise (1 1/2 - 2 hours)

the reason why u have to wait so long is cuz the yeast is working rly hard to break down things like the milk and the butter so just be patient and excited cuz its gonna taste so good…💬🎀

♡ combine 1/2 cup of light brown sugar, 1 1/2 tablespoons of cinnamon and mix together with a fork

♡ once ur dough is done, make sure u flour up ur clean counter and put the dough onto it. with floured hands pat the dough and shape it, just kinda flatten it out

♡ spread out super soft butter across the dough and spread the cinnamon sugar we made over the dough in a nice even layer and once you've done that its time to roll the dough into a cylinder

♡ next butter ur baking dish, cut ur cinnamon rolls with some dental floss or string and place them in the dish, and make sure u give them room to grow

♡ cover them with a sheet again and put them in a warm place for 1 hour so that they can rise, once you've done that put them in the oven at 350 degrees for 20- 25 minutes

while the cinnamon rolls are baking, we'll make a luscious cream cheese icing to go on top of the cinnamon rolls once they're done…💬🎀

♡ combine 2 tablespoons of softened butter, along with 4 ounces of softened cream cheese, a pinch of salt and a teaspoon of vanilla extract and mix it with a hand mixer

♡ add 2 cups of powdered sugar and add a bit of milk as needed. if u want a thicker icing or a thinner one

♡ lastly add ur icing all over the top of ur cinnamon rolls once they're out of the oven and ENJOY

WHATS MY HOROSCOPE (SEPTEMBER 27-31) ;

♡ for virgo, when the sun enters libra on september 22, your self-esteem and natural talents are activated. with the ability to earn money and achieve success heightened, abundance flows. just be sure you’re saving, budgeting, and making wise investments. venus moves into scorpio on the same day, energizing your communication zone. surface-level connections will fall flat as you crave deeper, more intimate conversations. mercury enters libra on september 26, enhancing your powers of negotiation and manifestation.

♡ for aries, the energy changes when the sun enters libra on the twenty-second, activating your relationship sector. use this opportunity to strengthen your closest bonds, form alliances, and bring your romantic visions to life. venus enters scorpio the same day to awaken your realm of intimacy and money. you could find yourself drawn to mysterious people or situations. venus in motivated scorpio elevates your drive, making you an unstoppable force, especially regarding manifestation. this is an excellent time to negotiate. mercury enters libra on september 26, adding a dash of charm to communication with your loved ones.

♡ for taurus, the sun enters libra on september 22 and brings warmth to your realm of service and self-love. strive to create a healthy work/life balance. your relationships deepen when venus enters scorpio later the same day, bringing intensity to your closest connections. you could feel a stronger desire for intimacy and a pull toward mystery and secrets. be conscious of codependency and unrealistic expectations. mercury moves into harmony-seeking libra on september 26, encouraging solutions and charisma within your relationships.

♡ for gemini, you’re full of joy, creativity, and romance when the sun enters libra on september 22, activating your happiness sector. inspiration will be heightened, so pay attention to your ideas. when venus enters scorpio on the same day, it’s time to turn your attention inward. your desire to explore the depths of your mind, body, and soul intensifies, making this an excellent time to embrace self-care practices that promote greater self-love. mercury enters libra on september 26, awakening your charisma and warmth in communications.

♡ for cancer, when the sun enters air sign libra on september 22, you’ll feel ready to cozy up with your loved ones and enjoy the comforts of your environment. with your zone of intuition activated, your emotions will be powerful. venus enters scorpio on the same day, and your creativity will skyrocket. if you crave more romance, initiate it. mercury enters libra on september 26, encouraging you to share your real feelings.

♡ for leo, when the sun enters libra on september 22, you’ll feel eager to express your incredible ideas and connect with others. activating your communication sector, the libra sun enhances your natural charisma and creates ease in conversations. venus enters mysterious scorpio on the same day, prompting you to reflect on your emotional needs. your heart requires you to be assertive, especially with loved ones. mercury moves into peace-loving libra on september 26, inviting you to communicate from a place of neutrality.

♡ for libra, the sun enters your sign on september 22, ushering in a brand-new cycle. you’re the star of the show and your powers of manifestation are heightened. get ready for an exciting new chapter full of opportunity! venus enters scorpio on the same day, enhancing your ability to earn money. mercury enters your sign on september 26, which gives you the gift of clarity. share your ideas and express yourself. you will be well received.

♡ for scorpio, when the sun enters libra on september 22, your need for retreat and soul-searching is highlighted. over the next few weeks, you’ll find the most peace during moments of relaxation. the libra sun activates your imagination, so allow yourself moments to get lost in fantasy and embrace the fluidity and surrender it brings. venus enters your sign on the same day, prompting you to ardently pursue your deepest desires and ask for what you want. mercury enters libra on september 26, helping you process your subconscious thoughts.

♡ for sagittarius, you’re ready to connect with friends when the sun enters libra on september 22, energizing your zone of community. it’s an excellent time to collaborate with others and show up on social media. venus enters scorpio and your privacy sector on the same day, prompting you to take intentional time alone to get clear on your emotional needs. mercury enters libra on september 26, and exciting conversations take place.

♡ for capricorn, when the sun enters libra on september 22, your career and goals come into focus. you’re especially magnetic and charming, which bodes well for negotiations. find ways to creatively showcase your gifts and embrace your people skills to achieve success this season. recognition arrives when you show up confidently, so find ways to empower yourself. venus enters scorpio on the same day, bringing intimacy to your friendships. mercury moves into libra on september 26, offering you clarity on your goals and the ability to plan them.

♡ for aquarius, imagination and creativity are the keys to your success. you’ll feel ready for expansion and adventure when the sun enters libra on september 22, energizing your zone of exploration. plan an exciting excursion with loved ones or book a spiritual retreat. personal freedom will feel important for you, so be mindful of overcommitting yourself to serious tasks that feel like burdens. venus enters scorpio later the same day, motivating you to make power moves in your career. mercury enters libra on september 26, boosting your ability to learn quickly.

♡ for pisces, when the sun enters libra on september 22, your sights will be set on resources and intimacy. when it comes to your closest bonds, you’ll crave lots of privacy. your approach to money will feel more solution based, and you could tap into a new revenue stream. venus enters scorpio the same day, inviting you to take a chance. mercury moves into libra on september 26, activating your need for deep conversations.

[chiyuuchu]

Some things never changed <3 (30th September 2024)

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Prompt! Katsuki’s future son travels back in time, leaving the entire bakusquad in shocked when they find out who Katsuki ends up with

It was a lazy afternoon, and the Bakusquad was chilling in the common room of the U.A. dorms. Bakugou lounged on the couch, arms crossed, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else but here, while Mina, Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Jirou were sprawled around the room, passing time and chatting.

Out of nowhere, a bright flash illuminated the space, causing everyone to jump. In the middle of the common room, a young boy no older than eight appeared, as if he’d stepped straight out of thin air.

"What the hell?!" Bakugou shot up from the couch, glaring at the boy, who had the same spiky ash-blonde hair and piercing red eyes as him. The kid’s expression? A scowl, eerily similar to Bakugou’s.

The boy smirked up at Bakugou. "Wow... Dad, you really were just as loud as Mom said."

The entire room froze. Kirishima blinked in confusion. Mina slowly straightened up in her seat, and Kaminari’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

"D-Did he just call you *Dad*?" Kaminari stuttered, eyes wide.

Bakugou stood there, absolutely dumbfounded. "What the hell are you talking about, brat?!"

The boy crossed his arms, looking smug. "I’m your son. From the future. I wanted to see what you were like in high school."

It felt like time stopped as the Bakusquad processed this. They all slowly turned to Bakugou, who was staring at the boy as if he were seeing a ghost.

Jirou’s eyebrow shot up. "There’s no way."

"Yeah, no way," Sero said, but then he looked at the boy closer. "Wait…"

"He... kind of looks exactly like you," Mina noted, leaning in to inspect the kid.

"And he talks like you too!" Kirishima said, now more excited than confused.

The boy huffed, unimpressed. "Of course I look like him. I’m his kid."

Bakugou’s face went through about three shades of red before he managed to growl out, "No way in hell you’re my kid. This is some stupid joke."

"I’m serious, Dad," the boy said, rolling his eyes. "You’ve always been stubborn."

Bakugou was fuming, completely flustered by the idea. "Who’s the mom, then?!" he demanded, trying to keep control of the situation.

The boy blinked, then shrugged nonchalantly. "That’s easy. It’s—"

Before he could say another word, you strolled past the common room entrance, sipping on a drink, totally unaware of what was happening inside. You gave the group a little wave and continued on your way to the kitchen, completely oblivious to the chaos.

The boy’s eyes followed you, then he turned back to Bakugou, whispering loud enough for the whole group to hear, "*Wow, Mom looks so different when she was younger.*"

The room went dead silent again, and Bakugou froze, staring at the kid in absolute horror.

Mina choked on her drink, her eyes as wide as saucers. "Oh. My. God. Y/N is the mom?!"

Kaminari burst into hysterical laughter, falling back onto the floor. "Bakugou and Y/N? No way! This is gold!"

"You’ve got to be kidding me," Jirou muttered, but she was smiling, barely containing her own laughter.

Kirishima looked like his entire world had been turned upside down. "I mean... I could totally see it! Y/N’s always been the calm to Bakugou’s storm."

Bakugou’s face was burning red. "What the hell are you guys talking about?! I don’t like her!"

The boy, clearly having fun, shrugged again. "You can deny it all you want, Dad, but you always said you two didn’t get along at first, and then, well... things changed."

Mina couldn’t stop laughing, nearly falling off her chair. "Oh my God, Bakugou has a crush on Y/N!"

"I do not!" Bakugou roared, looking like he was ready to explode.

Kaminari snickered. "Oh, come on, man, it all makes sense now! That’s why you get so weird when she’s around."

Bakugou turned to Kirishima, desperate for backup. "Tell them they’re idiots!"

But Kirishima scratched the back of his head, looking conflicted. "I mean, bro, you *do* act kind of different when Y/N’s around..."

Sero leaned back, smirking. "Yeah, and let’s not forget how you yelled at Kaminari that one time when he tried to flirt with her."

"I didn’t *yell*," Bakugou snapped, fists clenched. "I just didn’t want him bothering her."

"Sure," Jirou drawled, arms crossed. "Because you’re so protective of everyone, right?"

Bakugou’s eye twitched, and he looked ready to combust on the spot. "Shut up! I don’t like her! She’s just—just—"

"Your future wife?" Kaminari suggested with a cheeky grin.

"SHUT UP!" Bakugou barked, his face almost as red as his eyes. "That’s not happening!"

The boy snickered, clearly amused by his dad’s outburst. "Yeah, Dad, that’s what you always say."

Mina practically squealed. "Oh my God, this is the best thing ever! I can’t believe Bakugou ends up with Y/N!"

Bakugou shot a glare so intense that even Kaminari flinched. "I *don’t* end up with anyone! This is some kind of prank!"

Kirishima tried—and failed—to hide his smile. "I mean, it’s not like it’s hard to believe. Y/N’s awesome, and you’ve always had a soft spot for her."

Bakugou’s fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. "You’re all a bunch of idiots! There’s no way I’d—"

"—marry Y/N?" Jirou finished, smirking. "Sure, Bakugou. Keep telling yourself that."

The boy yawned, clearly bored now. "Can we hurry this up, Dad? I didn’t come all the way back in time just to watch you deny everything."

"Alright, that’s it!" Bakugou growled, grabbing the kid by the back of his shirt. "We’re going to figure out how to send you back, and you’re never mentioning any of this *bullshit* again."

Kaminari snickered, still laughing. "Denial’s not just a river in Egypt, bro."

Bakugou threw him a deadly glare as he dragged the boy toward the door. "Keep talking, Pikachu, and I’ll blow your damn face off."

As Bakugou stormed out of the room, the Bakusquad erupted into uncontrollable laughter.

"Man, I knew Bakugou had a thing for Y/N!" Mina said, wiping away tears of laughter. "But I never thought he’d be in *such* denial about it!"

Sero smirked. "This just proves it. Bakugou’s a softie at heart."

Kirishima chuckled, shaking his head. "I can’t wait to see his reaction when this happens for real."

As the laughter continued, you poked your head back into the common room, confused. "What’s so funny?"

Jirou snickered and waved you off. "Oh, nothing. Just... Bakugou being Bakugou."

You raised an eyebrow but shrugged, walking off again, still completely unaware of the chaos that had just unfolded in your name.

The Bakusquad exchanged knowing looks, grinning from ear to ear. One thing was for sure—Bakugou’s denials weren’t fooling anyone anymore.

[mischievousmoony]

𝚌𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐

⟢ poly!marauders x fem!reader ⟢ you go costume shopping with your boys ⊹ 1.6k ⟢ warnings/tags: no warnings, muggle au, no use of y/n

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“RAHH!” James shouts, suddenly jumping out of an aisle and into your and Remus’ path. He has on one of those creepy rubber clown masks and his hands are up, his fingers splayed wide to accentuate the zombie skin gloves he’s wearing. 

You and Remus stare blankly at him, unfazed by his attempts to scare you both. For a couple awkward seconds, he remains in his “scary” pose as if one of you will suddenly remember to react. Remus just pats him on the shoulder sympathetically. 

James pulls the mask over his head with one of his zombified hands. “Oh come on. You can’t tell me this isn’t creepy!” he says, shaking the limp mask in front of your faces. 

You watch the mask jiggle in his hands, the eye holes stretching under the weight of it. 

“It’s actually much creepier like this,” you say, grimacing. Remus chuckles, nodding in agreement. 

James look at the mask and turns his wrist so that the mask looks back at him. “Heh, you know we could hang this from the porch to scare trick-or-treaters.”

“We have enough porch decorations as it is,” Remus says. Although, he normally wouldn’t deny the purchase of a few additional halloween items every year. You and James share a certain enthusiasm for the holiday. By the time September rolls around, the two of you already have the house alive with Halloween spirit. And each year, you like to add some new decorations to your collection. 

However, Remus isn’t partial to the idea of hanging up a rubber clown mask in front of his home. To be honest, neither were you. You’d much prefer new skeleton heads to adorn the graveyard display you’ve built in your front yard. 

James could tell by your faces it’s a no-go, so he tosses the mask carelessly onto the shelf of the nearest end cap. 

“Hey, hey, put that back where it came from,” Remus scolds him. 

James smiles sheepishly, reclaiming the mask from the shelf and turning on his heels to return it to its rightful place. You and Remus follow him down the aisle and to the back wall where he hangs it back up, along with his zombie gloves. 

“There you guys are.”

The three of you turn to find Sirius approaching from the same direction you’ve just come from, his arms full of several plastic costume bags. 

“Oh boy,” you comment, already knowing what’s about to happen based on the devilish smirk Sirius is sporting. 

“What’ve you got there?” James asks, snickering to himself, completely aware of exactly what Sirius has. It’s tradition at this point. 

“Oh, just some costume ideas for our lovely girl,” he says. He holds one of the glossy plastic bags in front of you. “Wouldn’t this just look darling on her?”

You peer down at the costume, the upside down text just what you expected it to be. 

“Sexy Nurse,” you read aloud, your tone a blend of distaste and maybe a little amusement. Sirius does this every year, and while he never actually expects you to wear any of these ridiculous costumes, he sure has fun imagining what you might look like in them. 

“Or you could be the Hottie Doctor. I don’t discriminate,” he jokes, holding up a nearly identical costume, both being too-short white dresses. The only major difference is that the doctor one seems to come with a plastic stethoscope. 

“Yes, because nothing screams gender equality like the… Naughty Maid?” you snort, carding through the other costumes in his arms. 

“Don’t ignore the cop costume,” James snickers, pulling it from Sirius’ stack. His eyebrow quirks as he studies the garment. “Actually… yeah let’s turn our attention to the sexy cop costume please.”

He pulls the bag from Sirius’ arms, turning it around to show you the skimpy costume.

"On Duty Cutie?" you read from the bag. “No. No way am I being any of these for Halloween.”

“Oh, I’m not saying you should wear this for Halloween,” James says suggestively. “Do these come with the handcuffs?”

“Ha. Ha.” You make a show of rolling your eyes before swiftly averting your gaze, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your cheeks heat up. 

But of course he does anyway. He smirks and reaches out to tilt your chin up, but you lurch away, and his face instantly falls at your rejection. 

“You smell of rubber from those zombie gloves,” you complain, scrunching your nose in distaste. 

“It’s not that bad, is it?” he asks, lifting his hand to Remus’ face. 

Remus takes James hand to his lips, pressing a kiss on the back of his knuckles as he inhales. “You’re fine. You know how our darling is sensitive to certain smells.”

“Like my Christmas cookie candle,” James says sadly. 

Your face screws up in disgust. “Eugh. Attempting to turn baked good into candle scents is a cardinal sin. They never smell right.” 

“And that’s why I’ve banished my favorite candle to the guest bathroom.”

James’ pouty face pulls on your heartstrings. You sigh as you lift his hand and press a kiss over the same knuckles that were just upon Remus’ lips. 

“We all make our sacrifices,” you say, trying not to grimace at the rubbery scent of his fingers or imagine how many other hands shared that glove before your boyfriend. But that’s neither here nor there, because his beaming smile makes up for it. 

“Come now,” you continue, “let’s put these back and look for some real costumes.” Like James, Sirius isn’t likely to put much care into returning the costumes to where he found them, which is why you decide to take the lead. 

You revel in the way they so quickly fall in line, the three of them instantly following your lead, becoming your doting shadows. 

The four of you make quick work of replacing the costumes Sirius picked out on, and have moved onto perusing the nearby area for real candidates. 

You pick up a Dorothy costume from the Wizard of Oz. You squish the bag as if you’ll be able to feel for the quality of the costume through the thick plastic. 

From what you can see, the quality of the dress doesn’t seem to be half bad. And it’s actually quite pretty; not at all as revealing as most of the women’s costumes are.

“That would look nice on you,” Remus says as he comes up behind you and wraps an arm around your waist. 

“If only Dorothy’s counterparts looked as nice,” you say, hanging the costume back up between a boxy, metallic tin man costume and a cheap-looking cowardly lion onesie. 

You move on to the end of the aisle, where you find James and Sirius giggling to themselves in pointy hats. 

“Look, we’re wizards,” Sirius as says as they turn around, revealing the long beards of coarse gray hair they’ve put on. 

“How’s this for a costume?” James chuckles as he fits one of the pointed hats snugly over your head. 

“You’d make a pretty witch,” Remus says as he allows Sirius to adorn him with one of the beards. 

Sirius hums in agreement as he straightens out the beard. “And we're pretty much under your spell already,” he says adoringly. 

You cast Sirius an amused glance as you remove the hat to inspect its quality. 

“As much as I love the beards on you,” you joke, “witches and wizards are a bit overdone.” 

“You say overdone, I say classic,” Sirius says, adjusting his hat pointedly. 

You consider Sirius’ point. “Well, something classic could be fun.”

“Like vampires,” James says.

“Werewolves,” Remus says for the sake of listing classic costumes, but the scrunch of his nose tells you he doesn't like the sound of dressing in faux fur and flannels for Halloween.

“Or a witch and her wizards,” Sirius says, throwing his arms up to gesture at your current getup.

"You really want to hide that pretty face behind that beard?" you ask, slightly teasing.

Sirius defeatedly strips his beard and hat.

“What about zombies,” James proposes, half joking as he adds, “We could all get those gloves you like so much.”

Although those gloves were abysmal, the idea sparks some inspiration. 

“Wait, are you seriously considering zombies?” Sirius asks, recognizing the pondering look on your face. 

"Not exactly. It's definitely gonna be a 'no' to those gloves. But there are other ways we could do an 'undead' look."

"How do you mean?" Remus asks. The typical image of a zombie that pops into his head doesn't look to appealing, but he's sure you'll have some kind of spin on the idea that will make him love it.

"We could lean towards a skeleton look. Like exposed bones instead of rotting flesh."

"Doesn't exposed bones imply rotting flesh?" Sirius asks, being cheeky.

"Not if we do it right," you defend. "I think we could paint them on very tastefully. We could go for a cold, blue kind of dead look."

"Like corpse bride!" James lights up, listing one of your favorite halloween watches.

"Exactly!" you respond with just as much enthusiasm. "And we could do tattered, but fancy, old timey clothing."

Sirius nudges James. "If we go for this costume we could sit out in the graveyard the two of you put together to give out candy."

You didn't think James could possibly perk up more, but he manages to surprise you.

"We could play dead and scare anyone who walks up!" he says, practically buzzing with excitement. In another life, you think James would probably go into the haunted house business.

"So, it's settled then? We're being undead for halloween?" Remus asks.

By the grins on all of your faces, it seems you've come to an agreement.

"We should try the thrift store for clothing," you say. "I don't think I've seen anything that really aligns with my vision here."

The boys nod in agreement, but before you all head out you add, "Let's look at the face paint here first. And maybe some new bones for our graveyard?"

Remus smiles. "Of course, darling. Lead the way."

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[minhosimthings]

Gilded Skin || 18+

Synopsis: A makeout session with your tattoo artist neighbour

Pairings: tattoo artist!Jay × fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI 18+, Dom!Jay, sub!reader, fingering, p in v sex, rough sex, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, manhandling because idk I love Jay's hands, kinda pervert Jay, unprotected sex (not for you), swearing, use of "sweetheart"

A/N: for you my beloved @jaeyunluvr. Also possibly my last work for in a while since I'm getting kinda busy!

Tattoos.

Controversial (to some people) as they were, you loved them.

The mere thought of getting a tattoo scared you though, yes they were pretty, but number one, money and number two, needles. But soon enough, your friend, Heeseung, who was ironically a tattoo artist himself convinced you to pay a visit to the tattoo parlour.

Normally you would have refused, stating the usual excuse of 'I'm busy maybe next time?'. But lo and behold to Heeseung's ears you agreed this time.

"It's because of that hot guy there isn't it?" Heeseung snickered, his hands on the steering wheel as he drove you to the parlour.

'That hot guy' aka your new neighbour, aka the tattoo artist at the new tattoo parlour that had opened up down the street.

Even though it had been just a two minute walk's distance from you, Heeseung insisted on coming to the parlour with you. Although his actual motives were to see you absolutely melt infront of the man you had a cunt-destroying crush on, he kept on with the absolute lie that he was trying to be a supportive friend, and also obseve the artists at the parlor.

"He has a name you know." You rolled your eyes as Heeseung parked his car into the alleyway, "It's Jay or something."

"So we can no longer call him 'hot guy'?" Heeseung asked, seemingly amused by the way you were fiddling with your fingers, "Shame, I liked that nickname. What do you like about him anyway?"

What did you like about him. What answer could you have possibly given to that? Of course there were so many factors. The fact that he was your new neighbour but you still hadn't talked to him, the fact that he fed the street cats, the fact that he-

"His hands."

Heeseung's reaction was... appropriate to say the least. His choking on air made you roll your eyes, as you slapped his back to make him calm down. Then after a few moments of silence, he burst out laughing.

"His WHAT?" Heeseung held his stomach as raucous laughs escaped his lips, "Please don't tell me you're being serious right now." He doubled over again, almost hitting his head to the car's ceiling.

"Oh shut up, you're talking as if you're any better." You rolled your eyes, opening the car door, with Heeseung doing the same, "Remember last September when you-"

"Do not even start right now." Heeseung glared, slamming his car door shut, "Come on, don't want to keep the hands waiting do we?"

Taking a deep breath and letting it out rather too quickly, you pushed on the neon pink decorated door, which opened with a tinkling sound. The smell of lavender hung around, an unfamiliar scent for a tattoo store, which was covered in rock posters from head to toe, along with a few blue beads here and there, the kind Heeseung liked to collect.

"Hey." You greeted the red haired girl behind the counter, "I have an appointment under the name Y/N."

The girl looked up and sent you a quick smile before looking down at her computer, her eyes whipping around before finding a spot she thought was satisfactory.

"Yep right here." She popped her lips together, "I'll see if anyone is free Ma'am, could you wait for a minute?"

You smiled at her as if to say yes and plopped down on the couch next to Heeseung, who had been analysing the store with a lot of vigour in his eyes.

"It's fancy." He whispered, eyeing the girl at the counter, "Let's just hope your man comes out and you can get to catcall him before he goes."

"I am not going to catcall him, im not you." You chuckled, getting distracted from the conversation when you saw a black haired figure from the corner of your eye.

"Is that-?" Heeseung didn't even have to finish his sentence. He knew, judging from the look in your eyes and the fact that your mouth fell slightly open, that this was the person he ever so passionately called "your man".

You were mesmerised.

No, mesmerised wasn't the right word.

You were starstruck.

Maybe your hormones were on a whole different level, maybe you had just been dick-deprived for a long time, or maybe it was the lavender fumes, but you truly thought you had seen a Greek God fill the vision of your corneas.

"Y/N. Y/N!"

You felt Heeseung's elbow jab you painfully in the side, which was effective in breaking you out of your stupor. You blinked a couple of times, to see the red haired woman and Jay looking at you in what seemed to be amusement.

The woman coughed to defuse the seeming tention, you swore you could feel Heeseung awkwardly smiling for your left.

Well they always say bad beginnings have good endings don't they?

"So," A steady hand carefully polished the silver of the miniscule needle, "Y/N was it?"

Though the air conditioning was turned onto a high, you could feel sweat drops form at your forehead, why were his hands polishing the needle so erotically?

"Y-Yeah. You're Jay right?" You managed to cough out, feeling yourself immediately melt into the chair leather chain again when his eyes fell on you. His eyes were sharp as an eagle's, seemingly darting around to catch it's prey, but never leaving one point of focus.

"Nervous?" Jay chuckled, "Don't be, unless you're chronically afraid of needles."

"I am." You laughed, leaning back a little more comfortably on the chair, "Probably shouldn't have gotten a tattoo then should I?"

"Perhaps not on your most sensitive area." Jay nodded, sitting in front of you, his legs spread wide open, did he realise how welcoming that was to you?, "Most people go for the arm, I'm surprised you went for your thigh."

"Heeseung told me it doesn't hurt much." You braced yourself in the chair at the sight of Jay's needle pressing into his tattoo machine, "He's a tattoo artist too."

"I should make a friend of him then." Jay chuckled, looking into your eyes, he could bore deepwells in them and you thought you'd forgive such a handsome man like him, "How did you meet him?"

"Are you-" you gave him a funny look, "Are you trying to make conversation with me?"

"It helps most of them." Jay shrugged and smiled at you, you noticed his dimple come off his cheek, the one you saw last week, whilst spying on him from your bedroom window.

"So, new neighbour who I've never talked to until now," Jay raised his eyes up to you, "How about some conversation to lessen the pain?"

You had always known since you were a child that you had the attention span of a butterfly, eyes always zooming from one place to the other, but you never knew all you needed was a handsome face and some pretty hands to get you to focus.

Jay's deep voice soothed into your nerves, effectively proving his theory of "more talk, less pain". You hadn't noticed much of the tattooing process, except for a few instances here and there when his knuckles brushed across the skin of your thigh, making you mold your orgasmic whimpers into 'painful' winces. You could physically hear Heeseung in your brain telling you about your pain kink.

"So any relationship goals?" Jay asked you, your eyes briefly meeting with his, as his fingers stopped to move across the cross section, "I know that's sorta personal, don't answer if you don't want to."

"No it's fine." You laughed, pretending as if you didn't maniacally want to answer the question, "I'm still single for now, and as for goals, I'm free for ramen tomorrow, and that's it."

"So how about ramen tomorrow then?" Jay smiled, looking up at you, his hands coming to a halt and resting softly on your thigh.

"Will we be eating or will we be talking like this?" You chuckled, your brain fog capturing you entirely as you had no idea what words were coming out of your mouth, "Because to be honest, I'd just be staring at either your lips or your hands if we do either of them."

The most painful part of getting a tattoo, according to the internet, was the beginning part, when you'd be so scared, because apparently fear paralyses you more than the actual tattoo process. But you now knew, the most painful part would probably be Jay's amused eyes staring at you, while your brain managed to catch up with what you just said.

"Oh- no! No I'm so sorry—i didn't mean-"

"It's fine sweetheart." Jay's soft voice stopped your panicking, he stifled a chuckle at your behaviour. Adorable, he thought.

"No I'm really sorry Jay, I shouldn't have said that." You apologised again, feeling the heat come upto your cheeks.

"Oh sweetheart." Jay chuckled, leaning in towards you, "Do you really think I had no idea of your pretty little face spying on me through your window?"

He knew?

"I must admit, you look cute in that flimsy tank top, which hides nothing by the way." His deep voice rang through your eardrums, "but don't worry, I won't press charges or anything on you for spying."

Your back pressed against the leather of the leaning chair, as Jay put his tattoo machine down. Taking off his gloves, his tongue swept across his lips in a swift motion, as his hands trapped you in a cage, laying on either side of you.

"May I?" Jay asked, not even waiting for permission, he already knew the next thing to come out of your mouth was a pathetic whimper.

Without a moment's waste, his soft lips landed on yours, hands rubbing to take off your shorts.

You soon became lost in his presence, lips meeting his in a fiery kiss. his tongue pushed past, kissing you like his life depended on it.

"Fuck sweetheart." Jay said, "You taste good."

You moaned quietly into his mouth, feeling his fingers trail down and start to rub your clit. Your hand came down to grab his cock, already half hard, and you could feel him growing with each stroke you gave him.

His fingers slipped past your clit, toying with your opening and eventually plunging in as deep as he could with the angle he was at. Your head fell back, resting on the leather of the chair as your pussy fluttered around his fingers.

“fuck, you're so tight.,” he managed to say through gritted teeth, chuckling as you let out a stifled whimper, "You like that baby? You like my fingers hm?"

He began to set a fast pace, one of his hands gripping your hip to keep you in place for him and the other hand next to your head. you could see the veins in his arms as it flexed beside you, no doubt he was trying to hold back.

Small whimpers came out of your mouth with each thrust, but then you heard it. Footsteps outside the room, you had forgotten you were in a public place in the heat of the moment. The footsteps died down after a few seconds.

“Just gonna have to keep those pretty sounds in. Wouldn’t want them to hear you,” You clenched down at that.

He chuckled, a devilish, almost cruel sounding chuckle like he had something in mind.

“oh you like that, huh? Like the idea of someone walking in on us fucking in here, watching us. Watching you come apart on my fingers. You’d like that, wouldn’t you baby? Dirty fucking slut.”

At that moment, he made it his mission to make you cum, hard. keeping one hand clamped around your mouth to stifle your moans, your eyes practically rolled back into your head when his fingers touched a particularly sensitive position, the new position making his fingers fuck impossibly deeper into you.

As you were nearing release Jay pulled away standing up, quickly unbuckling his pants to unveil his already hard twitching cock eager to pound into you.

“gonna let me fuck you princess? gonna be a good girl for me?” he says, stroking his dick as he swipes his thumb over his slit wiping away his precum yet it still spews out, covering thumbs in the substance

He held the base of his cock, dragging the tip in between your wet folds, before slowly pushing himself into you, causing a groan to escape from the back of his throat.

His hands grabbing onto your hips, he began to slowly move his hips watching your pussy swallow his cock.

“You feel so fucking good” he said as he began to pick up the pace. Your hand moved up to your mouth blocking out the moans leaving your lips, doing your very best to stay quiet enough so others wouldn’t hear your lewd sounds.

Jay's thrusts became rough, his hand releasing your hip entangling his fingers through your hair tugging on it as he pounded into you. “You’re such a good girl, taking me so well”. 

“fuck…you’re so tight” he says, pulling your legs up to sit on his shoulders as he thrusts inside you at a steady motion, fucking you deliciously in missionary. His eyes stare at your tits that are bouncing with each motion he pulls you in.

“fuck baby..i’m gonna cum…gonna cum inside” he says as he gets that dumb look on his face, he squeezes your breast with white knuckles as something to hold on to while his eyes roll back in his head, a beam of his sweat falling on your chest.

your orgasm comes as his does, his dick twitching inside of your cunt making it almost impossible to keep going.

“m’gonna cum too…” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist, pushing him further into you to feel his cum covering your walls. the warm liquid coming fast inside you.

as Jay pulls out, he’s met with his mess, the pool of his cum leaking out of your cunt.

His fingers make their way down and pump inside of you, the squelching noise of your wet pussy filling the room. His fingers make their way out of your cunt and up to your mouth, pushing in his cum covered fingers inside your mouth.

“Suck sweetheart.” he demands, and so you do. You suck the mixture of cum off of his fingers while maintaining eye contact, his thumb cradling your chin for support. You could get intoxicated on those eyes for centuries.

Jay's thumb swept out of your mouth swiftly, as his lips landed on yours again, pressing you into a sweet and chaste kiss, breathing heavily as he pulled away and supported your tired structure with his strong arms. You could see the veins flex on his hands.

"So how about that ramen date tomorrow hm?" Jay asked, his dimple once again appearing on his cheek, "that is, if you can handle staring at my hands while I eat."

"A ramen date, if I can walk by tomorrow." You chuckled, "So, I guess this messy hair is because I was struggling too much out of pain while getting the tattoo? Or should I tell Heeseung something else?"

"Tell him how good of an artist I am." Jay chuckled, "And that his friend won't have to spy through bedroom windows anymore."

"Was I really that noticeable?" You rolled your eyes playfully, as Jay handed you your shorts.

"Sweetheart you have no idea."

[revelboo]

think my previous ask about how u got my hooked on Skyfire got buried, no worries- think it was Skyfire, u only had 1 chapter for him. might have been ketfire, one of the 'Fire' flyers....

hooked on starscream's inside out as well now too congrats XD

About that….

I’ve only had this blog since the end of September, not even two months, and there’s almost 900 of you guys already and even as fast as I write? Y’all are much faster…

Floating Down The River Pt 2

IDW Skyfire x Reader

• How can one tiny organic be so quick? If you get into the tree line, he’s never catching you, so he tries to herd you away with an outstretched hand. “I’m not trying to hurt you,” he growls as you duck under his hand and dart away from the trees right for the river. And then you’re trying to run alongside the bank as he chases. Sees the moment your foot slides in the mud and folds under you, your cry cut off as you hit the churning water and just disappear.

• Shockingly cold, that icy impact with the river knocks the air from your lungs, the current rolling you until you can’t figure out which way is up, can’t breathe as your shoulder and hip smack against the rocky bottom and terror seizes you that you shouldn’t have been so worried about iron giant catching you, because this is worse.

• Where are you? Straddling the river, he plunges both hands in trying to find you while a voice he hates in the back of his processor whispers that the problem just took care of itself. Servos flexing, he brushes something that’s not rock or sand, but loses it. Shifting and dredging his hands until he has you in his servos, lifting you free as you choke and throw up water on him, curling into a little ball of misery that’s icy to the touch. Sodden and shivering uncontrollably, you peer up at him. But all the fight is gone from you. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he says, running a servo along your back. “Just talk.” Technically he was trying to stop you from running to go get your army.

• Sprawled limply in his big hands, you know you should be trying to get away, screaming. Doing something, but you’re just so exhausted. And why would he bother to save you from the river just to squish you like a bug? Eyes closing, you make a little sound in the back of your throat when he nudges you. “You’re not going to try and burrow under my plating are you?” He murmurs, deep voice rumbling through you.

• “Wh-what?” Teeth chattering and miserable, the feel of him exasperatedly venting against you in a wash of warm air almost makes you whimper before he’s shifting you against his throat under his chin. And, oh. He’s warm, shockingly so and you don’t need any urging to leave his hand. You’re pressing yourself into him, feeling the odd give of the metal mesh against you and you both shudder at the contact, you at the warmth and you assume him because of how icy you are.

• Servos lingering to keep you pressed to him, he isn’t entirely expecting for you to murmur a soft ‘thank you’ or to press your face against his throat. Surrendering yourself to his care. He can feel how cold you are, your breathing, and the calming tattoo of your heart against him as he strokes the tip of a servo along your spine and tries to figure out what to do now beyond warming you up. You’re just so tiny, and even though he’s used to being the biggest bot in a room, how long has it been since he’s been able to hold someone? Be needed for more than just his size and strength? “I’m Skyfire,” he says as you shift against him, needing him.

Previous

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[dreamescapeswriting]

Blood and Affection ~ LMH

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅WORD COUNT: 1.6K

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅GENRE: established relationships, minho worried about his girlfriend, cute, fluffy, worried minho, mafia au,

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅PAIRING: Mafia!Minhox Fem!Reader

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - September 2024

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅MASTERLIST

You are in a relationship with Minho, one of the most powerful and feared mafia leaders in Seoul, someone everyone knew never to mess with or lie to which was why you hadn't been surprised when your nurse who was treated you told him where you were.

"Traitor." You whispered to her as you saw his car pulling up in the parking lot. She smirked over at you and shook her head. She, along with everyone else who worked for Minho, had known you a long time.

Your history with Minho ran deep—you were once his top operative, known for your flawless execution of missions and unmatched skill in the field. You'd trained every single day alongside some of the best of the best in the business and you were incredible. Not to toot your own horn anything but you were.

There wasn’t a single task you couldn’t handle, earning you a reputation that made even the most hardened criminals wary of crossing paths with you.

"You knew he was going to find out anyway. I did you a favour." The nurse teased as you rolled your eyes at her playfully. It wasn't anything major. In fact, you felt stupid for it to have even happened in the first place.

You'd been caught completely off guard and left exposed to something that shouldn't have even happened.��

"It's stupid, I wasn't even paying attention." You grumbled more at yourself than the nurse who was with you. But you hated it. How could you have missed something like this? Minho trusted you to be alone without a guard and now you knew that was never going to happen again.

You'd been out in town all morning, taking a rare moment to unwind in town, deciding to treat yourself at the spa and then at the local stores to some new clothes or some books if you'd seen any. But you'd only just left the spar when out of nowhere, you were ambushed by an assailant with a clear intent to kill. 

Though you fought - and incredibly might you add - and managed to eliminate your attacker, you weren’t unscathed. A deep stab wound in your side left you bleeding profusely. The pain had been nearly overwhelming as you'd struggled to stay conscious on the way to the hospital, it was wishful thinking that you could hide it from Minho. The man saw you naked every single night, if you'd somehow managed to hide it from him while your scar healed you'd have a hell of a lot of explaining to do for the new scar when you eventually got naked in front of him again. 

"Everyone has an off day," The nurse reminded you as she applied some cream to your stitches, eventually covering it with a bandage as you sighed a little. All you wanted was to go home and pretend the day hadn't even happened.

"But not everyone's off day is going to lead to them needing an armed guard at all times," You smiled at her and she bit her lip softly and nodded in understanding. As you lay back on the bed, trying to process everything that happened, the door burst open with a loud bang and you watched it vibrate off the wall. Minho, your stoic and usually composed former boss and now current boyfriend, storms in with a frantic look on his face. His eyes, usually so cold and calculating, are now wide with panic.

“Are you okay?! I heard what happened...” His voice cracks slightly as he hurries to your bedside, his usual air of control slipping away. Normally he was well put together and didn't show any kind of emotion since they were usually held against him but with you, he always let them out. 

"Minho, don't make this a big thing." You laugh weakly but he shakes his head at you. You knew asking him not to make a big deal with a lost cause but you'd figured you'd try anyway. Within a second he was on his knees next to you, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for yours, his gaze scanning your bandaged wound with a mixture of fear and fury. The thought of losing you had him on edge, his usual cold demeanour shattered by the raw emotion he feels for you.

Minho glances up at the nurse, his voice laced with tension. The whole way over he'd been panicking about what he was supposed to do now, he'd already called his guys to arrange protection for you.

“What’s her condition? How long until she’s fully recovered? Are you sure she’s getting the best care?” He peppers the nurse with questions, his usual calm replaced with a sense of urgency. Your nurse opened her mouth to speak but was quickly cut off as he pointed to the IV that was inserted into your arm,

“And those painkillers—are they strong enough? I don’t want her in any more pain. Is she going to need to stay overnight?” You stroked his hand gently, the small act calming him down within seconds but you could still see just how on edge he was with this whole thing and you nodded at your nurse.

“She’s stable now, sir. The wound was deep, but she was strong. With rest and proper care, she’ll be okay, she should be able to go home as soon as this round of painkillers is done with.” Minho’s gaze flickers back to you, his expression softening as he takes your hand and squeezes it softly. 

“You hear that? You’re going to be okay,” he says, more to himself than to you, as if he needs the reassurance just as much. He placed his lips on top of your hand and kissed softly before shaking his head at you,

"Minho-" You tried to warn but you were quickly cut off,

“But this… this can’t happen again.” He pointed at your wound before leaning in closer, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand and smiling weakly. There was no way he was going to ever let anything happen to you for as long as he lived. 

“From now on, you’re getting extra protection every time you step out. I don’t care if it’s just for a walk or to grab a coffee—you’ll have backup, no exceptions.” His tone leaves no room for argument, the fear of losing you still evident in his eyes. It was going to be pointless arguing with a man who was set in his ways as much as Minho was when it came to your safety,

“I can’t risk anything happening to you again. Not when you mean this much to me.” He whispered, the nurse excused herself once his men began to gather in the room. All of them watched Minho with a smile on their faces. You were the only one that had ever been able to pull any kind of emotions out of their scary boss,

"Is the hospital floor secure?"

"You did not kick anyone out, right?!" You screech at your boyfriend who looks at you with a nervous smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

"If I say no, it won't be a lie...technically

"Minho-" You hiss at him but he shakes his head at you, it wasn't as if he'd thrown them out of the hospital. He'd merely paid everyone to be moved quickly.

"I moved them to different floors," he shrugged at you before you scoffed and nudged his shoulder. You'd have been perfectly fine without him moving anybody.

"I don't need protection from a bunch of old people."

"I don't care," He mumbles, looking at you and then kissing your cheek softly as you playfully scolded him for being so damn overprotective.

"I can't lose you, Yn...I just can't." He finally whispered as you pulled him to sit on the bed with you, your head resting on his shoulder. His men quickly filtered out of the room leaving you alone again.

He’s quiet for a moment, just resting his chin on top of your head, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your arm as he tries to think of something to say to you. 

Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice low and heavy with emotion. It had been hard for him when he'd heard the news of the attack, he'd gone into overprotective mode within seconds,

“I can’t lose you. I just… I can’t,” he whispers, the words almost a confession. 

“When I heard what happened, it felt like the ground was ripped out from under me. I’ve always been in control, always knew how to handle things… but when it comes to you…” He trails off, his grip on you tightening slightly as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away from him. You can feel the tremor in his voice, the raw vulnerability he rarely shows. 

“I’ve lost people before, but you… losing you would destroy me. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” You lift your head slightly, your eyes meeting his. The depth of his fear is written all over his face, the tough exterior he usually wears stripped away in this moment. You reach up, cupping his cheek in your hand, your thumb brushing away a tear he didn’t even realize had fallen.

“You won’t lose me, Minho,” you say softly, your voice filled with sincerity. 

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise you, you’ll never lose me.”

His eyes search yours as if he’s trying to believe it, trying to let your words sink in. Finally, he exhales a shaky breath and presses his forehead against yours. 

“I’m holding you to that,” he murmurs, his voice a little steadier now, but still tinged with the lingering fear of what could have been. 

“Because I can’t… I won’t let you go.” He promised you as you nodded at him, cuddling into him softly.

"I'm not going anywhere," You whispered to him, closing your eyes as you laid your head on his chest.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @s3ungm1nxxl0ve

[mydeerfellow]

A list of things Niffty has hidden in Alastor's creepy bayou

☸ A large hang in there kitty poster that appears on a different tree every day

☸ A suspiciously heavy bucket covered in corrupt Blues Clues stickers. If you open it, you can hear the ocean.

☸ 3 semi-dead bodies

☸ 8 very-dead bodies

☸ Half of a human arm. Not a demon arm. A human arm.

☸ A bag of 'emergency cheese' that Alastor replaces ever week or so, as Niffty has no concept of time or space.

☸ Most of her boyfriends since the summer of '55. You can sometimes see them shambling through the mist. Terry is Alastor's favorite.

☸ 44 live alligators, given to Alastor as a birthday father's day bayou-warming present on a random Thursday in September, over 4 months after he moved in.

☸ Angel's cell phone, based on his camera roll. Alastor's not sure what's on it, but Niffty screamed MESSY when he asked.

☸ A fully functioning 2019 Honda ATV with a custom paint job detailing some extraordinarily graphic BDSM that she got from a 'bad boy'

☸ ATV bad boy's right foot

☸ Charlie's hair brush shows up a few times every week, along with her right slipper. Neither of them know why. She's allowed to come in and get them at her leisure.

☸ Vaggie's hair bow showed up once. once.

☸ Husk