#sometimes i go to a friends house and her husband will see me sitting there and throw a bunch of edibles‚ carts‚ and pre rolls at me

[anotherpapercut]

I said this in tags but actually it occurs to me that a lot of people probably don't realize how easy it is to get street drugs so I'll illustrate it with a true story about myself: I've spent months trying to get my psychiatrist to prescribe a round of esketamine (made from ketamine to be used therapeutically) treatment for my anxiety and depression, but they are required by idek who to try every other type of medication possible first. so I've spent months paying to be sick with the side effects of drugs that do nothing to help and often make it worse.

by contrast, today a friend came over and I asked if she knew anyone with ket and she said "yeah I can probably get it to you within a week" and then also traded me weed, another anxiety treatment for me, for help with math

[netherfeildren]

Busy, Dying. Part 1;

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: In an in-between place called his life, Joel Miller is alone. In search of a cure. In need of a miracle. In want of God.

Can I interest you in a cure for loneliness? She'd asked him in a language without words. Taking it is the easy part. Letting her go is impossible.

-OR-

an a/b/o soulmates AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No Outbreak AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Soulmates AU, Infidelity, Cheating, HEA!!!!!, Angst, Fluff & Smut, Mating Bites, Knotting, Heat Sex, Breeding Kink, Group Therapy, Social Experiments, Basically puppy training for unsocialized Alphas, And by God that man will be house trained by the time she’s done with him!, Complicated family dynamics, Discussions of self harm, Depression, Existential Angst, Author returns not with a whimper but with a KNOT, I wrote this in a very unserious state of mind beware 

A/N: Gray November, I've been down since July - but we're so back, baby. I’ve missed this so bad. I’ve missed you all, I won’t drone on and on. I hope you enjoy, and please talk to me in the comments. Update me on what I’ve missed, let me know how you’ve been and what’s happening in your life.

A great heartfelt thank you to all of my wonderful friends who so supportively cheered me on while I struggled to write this. Sincerely the best people I know. 

Love you all madly.

Word Count: 6.5K

Read on AO3

Part 1;

The old linoleum tiles are the most peculiar shade of puce, and Joel has realized that there is someone sitting at the back of the room who smells… strange. 

More brown than purple—an ugly color. There’s something about it that fascinates him.

The woman that is currently speaking tells of her husband; it’s the only tale she has to tell. She’s been doing it for weeks, and they all know it well by now. Older, omega, the woman, and at the latter and less comely stage of life. Most of them here can say the same. They usually give their names, those that get up to share—although it’s never a requirement when you attend, it is highly encouraged—the sharing, he means—but he never pays much mind to them—the names, that is. That’s not what he’s here for after all—to make friends. Although, he does see how that’d be the initial assumption. 

Joel Miller is here for something more specific.

Six weeks he’s been showing up to these things now, and he’s yet to take a turn. He tells himself he’s working up to it. 

What that specific thing is…he hasn’t quite figured out. He’s listening for it, though, and intently, even if he does skip over the names. It’s the details of what they’re telling that matter to him. The hows and intricate whys of what it is that brought them here today.  

Her youth had been spent on a drunk, the woman is saying—her husband—and he’d been cruel to her in those days when there was still currency to spend in the form of her vitality. Joel nods at the puce—yes, he thinks, that’s usually the way of it. But later, there’s more to the story she reminds her audience, he drank himself into a fit, and had never been right since. The cruelty had been taken away from the marriage after that, and she’d been put in charge. 

“But I wonder,” she says, “If sometimes I don’t miss it, the way he’d been,” —if the reason she was here now, with all of the rest of them that were just like her in their own unique ways, was that she’d been left lonely after her cruel husband had been exchanged for a sick one. 

Joel nods again and wonders what sort of face the woman wears as she confesses but doesn’t bother to check. No matter, he knows they’re the same. If not in designation, then in heart. 

It’s easy, that thing, he does it too, to wish for the bad. To want to hold on to it, the thing that hurts. Addictive, even, in some cases. Missing it is easy. 

It’s why he’s here. 

And it’s what they promise you. In their flyers and pamphlets, when they stand on the corners of streets talking people up wearing that look in their eye and that slouch in their step, when they smell it on you—or in the lack there of—a mate or a purpose.

Welcome to our meeting. We’re here to find the cure for loneliness. 

That’s what they promise you when you come here. 

It’d been that word: loneliness, actually, that had caught him. L-O-N-E-liness. There was something attractive about it to him. Not a label but a state. 

You see, it was like this: Joel had seen a therapist once, several years ago, against his will and at the behest of another, who’d said all the wrong things in all the wrong ways. 

“You sound depressed, Joel,” the therapist had told him. 

He’d worn horn rimmed glasses and had a shiny bald head he could see the reflection of the overhead lights in. And worse—the non-scent of a beta which told him they’d never understand each other in the ways Joel longed to be understood. He’d—not hated him, necessarily—but felt an immense apathy for the man; more so than the regular apathy he felt for most things in his life. 

“I don’t know what that means.” 

“Very, very sad,” was the official diagnosis.

Joel hadn’t liked the sound of the word. The label. He did not like that a word so succinct could be ascribed to him and all that had happened to him in his life. There was no word for it. It just was. 

But there was something different about a state of aloneness, which if attributed to himself, he could accept. He had been left alone, in ways. It was a tangible thing he could look around a room inside of himself and recognize. 

They’re meetings, is what this place is—encounter groups this coalition offers where lonely demi humans can come to congregate, discuss their aloneness, what had led them to such a state; their lack of attachments, connections, mates—alpha, omega. Held in the basement of the Emmanuel Episcopal Church on Newbury street, right between his shop and house, although they never talk about religion which he likes because he doesn’t believe in religion. 

God is still under review. 

He wonders if the Catholics wouldn’t have them. 

Sitting forward in his seat, the metal folding chair that always leaves his back aching something fierce, he presses his elbows into his knees to distract with alternative pressure. Focusing on his fingers woven together between his spread legs, he tries to pay attention to the man who’s stood up to speak now. Older than himself, late sixties, no children, no family, no nothin’; he’d run them all off. 

But Joel is distracted. 

The smell is stronger now. Stranger too. Something full bodied, but metallic like rust, astringent bleach, built in a way that forces saliva to pool heavy between his suddenly aching gums. A mask that sits atop something of a much different chemical architecture—that’s the strange part. 

Or—no. The back of his neck itches, and Joel lifts a palm to cup his nape, quell the sting, feel the tender mark. No. The strange part is not the illusion of the smell. What it is, actually, is that he’s fairly certain what he’s smelling is someone else's blockers. Something which he’s positive he’s never consciously noticed on another person in the thirty plus years since he’d presented as an alpha. 

He has, suddenly, the quite intense urge to peek over his shoulder, certain that he’ll be caught smelling things he has no business smelling. That there will be someone just there, breathing down the nape of his neck with accusation on their tongue—boo!

Silly. But he’d known today would not be a good day. 

It’d started off wrong. The milk had gone sour overnight, the check engine light had come on in his truck, all his socks were suddenly mismatched with not a single pair to be found, and his usual route to work had been waylaid by some freak accident. A tree split in half, one side into a house, the other into the road. Not a sign of lightning in the sky all night long. 

Perhaps he might be compelled to believe in God after all. 

Joel does not like it when things are out of order or out of the ordinary. His life was organized in a way that never caused him strife or excess. And it was not that he was stuck in his ways, only that he enjoyed his routine and disliked when things were not as they should be. And this—whatever it is he’s smelling, whoever—is not as it should be. 

The older gentleman, an Alpha too, is still speaking. He had a daughter, has, who no longer speaks to him. Won’t even take his money. He’d had a long career in government that’d filled him with greed and paranoia and a radical view of life that refused to align with the way young people saw the world now. Perhaps he’d tried to change at certain times, but he was old and set in his ways. Or maybe he hadn’t wanted to change as badly as he should have when he still had the chance to. Happily stuck in the past. His wife had died, and his daughter had gone away from him. Too tired of his mediocrity as a father to give him another chance. 

The man sounds like he feels sorry for himself. Like he thinks himself the victim, and this one, Joel does look up at. He looks old and worn down, heavy beer pouch and thinning hair and sagging jowls. A sad and lonely man. Joel wonders if that’s how he looks to the other people in this room, as well. 

“No man knows how bad he is until he has tried very hard to be good.” Joel blinks, looks at him more closely, tries very hard to find similarities between themselves. But no—not quite right, not the thing he’s looking for. Their plight is different. This man is not alone, he’s got his weakness to keep him company. 

The one thing Joel had fought like hell to keep out of his repertoire of issues. He’d run from even the possibility of it as soon as she was dead, left Texas straight for the Northeast and from thereafter, everything he’d done, he’d done with a staunchness of character. If at the end of it, that staunchness was made up of apathy or numbness or dissociative fury, well, then at least he wasn’t still that man who’d been too weak to save his daughter. 

That counted very much in Joel’s book. 

An overabundance of cold numbness, little anger, everything a static haze—an abstinent winter. That was his whole life. But then, look at him now, he was here, wasn’t he? He’d taken that brochure handed to him on that last warm Tuesday weeks ago as he’d headed back to the shop from lunch. 

Hello, sir. Could I interest you in a cure for loneliness? The young omega had said. 

It’d started like anything—an experiment or a desperate ploy. The monotony had been steady going the past few years, getting older, colder. He’d grown hard and solitary around his wound, loneliness spread like a fungus, and he’d longed for any sort of change. 

“A cure…how?” The terrible shrink had come to mind.

“Oh, nothing to fret over.” The young man had a nice smile, Joel remembers. Kind and straight toothed. Honest in the way that a stranger knocking on your door to sell you a Bible seems honest. “We call it an encounter group. People come, share, tell the tales of their designation and their lives. In the end, the result is different for different people. Some move on to a second step if they need more. Others find what they’re looking for just through the connection of sharing. But no matter the result, you’ll see, you’ll be cured. Promise.” He’d winked, smile deepening, giving him an appreciative once over at the end of his spiel. Joel had blinked back, surprised, confused, but curiosity peaked enough he’d obsessed over it for three short days before he’d found himself stepping into the molted incense smell of the belly of a church so dimly lit he was sure not even God peaked in this sad space any longer.

“It’s that easy?” Joel had asked, childlike in his throat-strangled hope.

“That easy.”

It seemed the smile had been honest enough to sell him the Bible. 

The scent insists upon itself as the older gentleman finishes up, and Joel’s nose tickles with whatever it is it’s whispering at him. He wants to get up and walk out, run away, but suddenly his gut is tight and hot, and he isn’t sure he can actually stand up without disgracing himself in front of all these people. A wash of agonized heat moves through him, confused at what’s suddenly happening to his body. 

“We have a newcomer today sharing for the first time,” Maria, the woman who leads the group, says at the front of the room. “Everyone give her a warm welcome, it’s her first day and already she’s brave enough to jump on up here.”

There’s the shuffling of bodies in their seats, a cleared throat, the man sitting behind Joel breathes so loudly he thinks he’s gotta have some sort of medical condition, the puce turns more hideous by the second, and his own heart is beating so hard in his ears the rush of blood is dizzying. He feels each thump of the thing against his breast bone in some sick imitation of a fist begging to be let out. 

The new voice begins as nothing but a murmur. 

An introduction—he misses the name. His breathing goes shallow, he’d tip over in his seat if he didn’t have both boots planted firmly against the puce. The voice gains strength and with it, Joel wishes he’d been paying attention from the start. He didn’t get to hear her name. 

It’s a girl.

She’d run away from home in the spring of her sixteenth year to join the opera, she tells them. Had come upon the city in roaring spring and thought the rest of her life would be exactly like that, pure novelty in bloom, nothing like what she’d left behind. And was deeply disappointed when the reality was nothing such. 

And Joel hears it, that disappointment in her voice at what she’d not been able to find after searching for it so religiously. This is what makes him look up at her. This, unlike all the others, he thinks he can relate to—just by the sound of her voice. The search for a thing lost which can never again be found. The fruitlessness of it all. 

At that first vulnerable, terrified glance, she’s already staring at him, eyes catching like hooks. 

He blinks once, twice—color—is sure he can hear the movement of his eyelashes passing through the air, the stick of his lids meeting—color—bright. This is it.

That wash of heat turns into a blaze, every single bead of sweat blooming on his brow is a tell evaporating into the ether. This is what he’d sensed from the start of the evening. Maybe even from the moment he’d seen that split maple. 

“My mother always said I needed to be stronger, bolder, not so sensitive.” She looks away from him now. “I grew up in an angry house where you had to fight tooth and nail not to be overrun. Because of this, I left it at a very young age, and it was the greatest fight I could muster, abandoning that house of anger. I found myself something to bring me what I thought would be joy, a job and a city, and for a time, it was enough. But starting your lonely life so young…it’s hard.” After a pause of breath, “It’s been hard.”

“And it’s made me never want to have to—exert myself,” she says, searching for the right words, smiling when she finds them, and Joel has the urgency to smile back. “Now, I never want to have to be strong. I never want to have to try. I want to only be the way that I am. If that’s weak or sensitive or whatever it might be at any given moment, I don’t care. I don’t want to have to fight. I never want to be in an angry house again. I want someone who’ll see this in me and understand and never make me work for it, that they would give it to me willingly, easily, without me having to ask. Do you understand?” She looks about the room, and he hopes her eyes will land on him again, and even though they don’t, he feels she’s speaking directly to him. He nods, the hook of her temptation cast beneath his chin. “This is a fantasy. And it makes for a lonely existence. This idea of how I need it to be for it to be right—love.” She looks down at her hands folded atop the podium where they go to stand at the front of the group and share, and he wills her gaze to find him amidst the crowd again. “It’s so difficult. And this might seem very bad to you, weak willed, but it’s not. It’s only very honest. Which can never be a bad way to be.” That’s why she’s here, she tells them.

Finally, she looks back at him, and it’s that loneliness of two people amidst a crowd, facing one another, knowing themselves mirrored against the other and yet still disparate. There’s something indecent about the way she looks at him in front of all these people, the way he, in turn, looks back. A little bit like finding your own face on a stranger's body in a crowded room. Color rises to his face, and she gives him that same elusive smile from before. 

He’s the one to look away this time. 

As the crowd disperses for coffee and pastries after the last of the speakers, he searches for her. He needs to ask her name, feels as if he’s some blighted creature without it, swears he’ll never forgo attention during a meeting again if he can fish it out of her.

He finds her at the dessert table, Maria at her side and a hand at her shoulder. Something of a thank you is being imparted between the two women. The girl is saying she’s grateful for the welcome, grateful that they’d found each other. 

Joel has things to be grateful to Maria for, too. His brother, mainly. It’d been pure chance that Joel had met her here, that she knew Tommy also. She’d met his brother on a summer trek to Wyoming where they’d become friends and had kept in touch afterwards. The woman has a thing about her that ingratiates people by sheer force of will. Perhaps it’s that she’s an alpha, too. Perhaps it’s just the charisma and wide smile. The fact that she has a countenance that takes no shit from anyone, that makes demands of a person whether they’ve got any give or not. But whatever the case, they’d realize their connection through Tommy, and she kept Joel updated on his brother whom he’d not spoken with in many years. 

Watching the two women stand together and share that easy thanks that Joel so urgently owes, and yet which he cannot voice, he feels, suddenly, so angry. So awkward. So humiliatingly inexperienced. So unable to grapple with the pain of human contact, the fascination of it, the humiliating necessity. 

That decade old anchor weighing him in place and the guilt of even thinking of it as such. 

I feel decrepitly alone and odd, he thinks. And how strange, no? He was a normal man. He has a normal job. He lives in a normal house. Unexceptional in every sense. Everything in his life had been ordinary up until that one great tragedy. And then, as if none of the before had ever existed, it was as if everything afterwards was one great landslide of wrongness. The filth of it slinging mud all over his life so that nothing had ever been right after her. 

So that now he cannot even approach this girl whose name he needs to know, and Maria, to whom he owes the last surviving connection to his brother. 

As Maria turns to go, she gives him an encouraging nod, sending him into an agony of shyness. She’d sensed him hovering. 

The girl remains at the dessert table, perusing the pastries. He can see her fingertips dancing over the golden, sugared confections, before she settles on a plain, glazed donut. He watches the bend of her elbow, bringing it to her mouth and thirty seconds later, the empty hand reaching for a napkin. He can’t help the huff of laughter it draws from him. 

Watching the unknown creature with her back turned, he peers down the length of himself. Wood stain marred t-shirt, old work jeans and scuffed boots, he’d come straight from the shop. Looking back at her, she seems perfectly packaged and pristine. The two of them, different as chalk and cheese. He tells himself he shouldn’t do it, turn around and go, leave her alone, as he steps up beside her at the table. 

Immediately, there’s the heat of her skin, the smell of her shampoo, and he realizes, and it’s silly because it should’ve been obvious from the get go, she’s an omega. The epiphany, not that she is one, but that he’d been too stupid and oblivious to notice, leaves him feeling vulnerable and angry. 

Any sort of hello that’d been coming alive on his tongue immediately dies. And he’s about to make a run for it once again when she speaks up from beside him, “Would you like a donut?” Her small fingers are dancing over the pastries, searching once again. “I haven’t had one yet,” she lies, “I can’t decide which looks best.” 

The dancing hand pauses over a golden brown puff pastry, seemingly coming to a decision, when she turns to look up at him. The scent of her isn’t just shampoo, not just the blockers he’d shockingly picked up on before, sharp, burning his nose. It’s her skin now, too. The dry sweat from hustling under her coat to make it to her first meeting on time salted along her limbs. Hot, sweet almonds. The shocking vermillion of the morning’s split maple comes to mind. He can smell her.

“A puff pastry?” She presses, quizzical crook to her brow at his silence and glower. “I think you really need something sweet. It’ll make you feel better.”

He wants to agree, to say he also thinks he needs something sweet. All he can manage is a short grunt because she smells…indescribable. Honeyed musk, something heady, like she herself had just got done baking, straight out of the oven and full of sugar into his waiting mouth. 

That earlier anger, it kicks up a notch. Why isn’t he fucking saying anything? 

She shrugs, as she lifts the puff pastry to her mouth he finally manages sound. 

“You stink.”

He doesn’t know when he became such a liar.

A pause, mouth open, straight, white teeth ready to bite into the fluffy sweet bread. He can see her small, pink tongue, and it makes him go a little woozy.

He might be losing his mind. 

She’s got elegant eyebrows that shoot straight up her smooth forehead. The look of her skin is glorious. “Excuse me?”

Now, there seem to be too many words spilling out of his mouth. “You need better meds or somethin’. Need to sort your shit out. Can’t go gallivanting about the world smellin’ like that.” Oh god, shut up. 

“Excuse me!” She takes a huge bite of the pastry. “I do not gallivant,” she shoots back, mouth full of sugar and Joel goes hot everywhere. “What is wrong with you?” she demands, the pursing of a prim little mouth as she chews, eyeing him maliciously. 

He hasn’t the damndest clue. 

She is not wary of him in the slightest, which in turn tells him he needs to be wary of her.

Another large bite, inexplicably she extends her free hand towards him—potentially going into shock and entirely out of his depth when he takes it, the vulnerability of tendon and muscle soft beneath his strength—offering him a firm shake. She gives him her name. 

In that moment, she has a look about her that tells him she’ll bite back if he isn’t careful, even if she hurts herself in the process. 

And now he knows you. 

-

“We might as well acquaint ourselves if you’re going to insult me. Don’t you think?” Peering up at him, he’s tall, well over six feet, and broad shouldered. Older, distinguished, but in a rough way, hewn oak, gray. “Are you typically this rude? Or is this a special occasion?”

Incredibly handsome. 

“I’m being serious.”

“I do not stink. No one has ever said that to me, and my blockers are quality. It must be a you problem.” The puff pastry really is very good. And this man really is very handsome. Coming here today was a good idea. 

One of the girls from the theater had suggested it, handing you a pamphlet with Looking for the Cure for Loneliness? emblazoned across the top, and even though she’d done it kindly, any other person would’ve taken the implication as an insult. Hey girl! No offense, but we all in the company think you’re super weird and have you heard about this support group for losers? Kind of like Omegas Anonymous!

Those hadn’t been her exact words, and you hadn’t taken offense. After the initial agony of embarrassment, you’d warmed to the idea. You’d heard of groups like these before. Congregations of demi humans where one could come to find community or connection. Be it socializing or support for people struggling with their designations and all that they implied, they served their purpose. And anyways, you weren’t in a position to be nitpicky. 

It’s true, you’re alone. 

So alone, in fact, that even the people around you could tell. Strangers, coworkers, your roommate and her girlfriend. Like some noxious cloud of loneliness following you around virtue signaling the desperate need for love and companionship and understanding you’re so in need of. 

You increasingly saw yourself as a dancer on her toes, trembling delicately all over, vying desperately to survive to the end of the song. A monster with too many heads. A Cerberus of the richest caliber. 

Two or three would’ve been acceptable—heads—but you'd long surpassed that and moved on to something unrecognizable and unpleasant. Desperately in need of a solution. 

“Maybe you’re the one that stinks. Maybe it’s your upper lip.” And voila, the monster makes her debut. 

“My—” The rude alpha, obvious, that one, lets out a choked sound, a deeper wash of color immediately flooding his cheeks. You dip your head sideways, appraising him as you polish off your second pastry. He has pretty bone structure, masculine, and after he’s done choking and spluttering, he can’t help but laugh a little bit. You see it. 

Beneath a mouth that looks forbidding, perhaps even a little cruel, you can sense that he is not an unkind man. 

Yet you’re not so green that you can’t recognize the gnawing hunger of loneliness in others. There’s always a reason people find themselves in places like these. His face, edged with the weariness of age, makes this obvious. He has good reason for subjecting himself to this. 

Reaching for the lovely eclair you’d been deciding between earlier, you take a large bite of it. Almond cream and a thick layer of icing on top, humming happily as you chew while he stares at you like the three headed dog. 

You hold the dessert out towards him, offering. Palm up, he shakes his head no, slightly disgusted look on his face. 

“So. You come here often?”

He blinks. “Really?” Patronizing look on his face now. 

“Why not? I am actually interested to know if this is worth my time.”

He rolls his eyes. Oh, he’s fun. “Yes, I come here often. Every Friday, for the past two months just about.”

“And you like it?”

“Is this the sort of place one likes?”

“Oh, come on. You never know what you might find.” He watches your mouth as you finish the eclair, swallowing hard. “Anyways, I think the world is kind of over out there. Don’t you? Might as well make the best of it in here.” 

Thumb pressed against the edge of the table, he looks down, suddenly awash with shyness once again. A shy alpha, who’d of thought. 

“What did you used to do?” He asks, motioning at the crowded room full of chatting alphas and omegas. You wonder how many of them will go home together for a fuck after this. 

“When?” You ask, sure he means in lieu of this group, if you’d ever had another form of demi human community. 

“Before this.”

“Before this? Nothing.” Smiling at him, certain he isn’t picking up on your teasing. 

“Nothing?”

“Nope. I’ve always been here.”

“But— Don’t you…I thought...” He’s cute, shaking his head like you’re just too confusing to sustain. “You sing, right?” He pivots. 

“Sing? Me? Whatever made you think such a thing?” The sly look on your face goes completely over his head and slides to the rest of the sweets. If he wasn’t watching, you’d have another. 

“You said. You said you’re in the opera,” he gruffs back, looking visibly aggravated now. 

Such fun. 

“I’m a supernumerary,” you concede as you turn, making your way to an old relic of a pew along the far wall, tragically abandoning the desserts. 

He follows as you go, sitting a respectful distance beside you. 

“I don’t know what that is.”

“We’re the actors that fill the stage at the opera.”

“No singing?”

You shake your head, flirting with him. “I’m a wench, I’m a courtesan,” You bat your lashes, fingertips pressed coquettishly beneath your chin, “Part of a harem. I’m every woman you’ve never known. It depends on the opera.”

“I’ve never heard of that before.”

“I started as a stagehand when I first got to Boston. Worked my way up.”

“How’s it work? Lines or somethin’?”

“No lines. No anything. I’m a background actor—an extra, basically. If anything, I’m given some simple choreography direction, laugh, sigh, show fear, horror, shock. Whatever. I’m playing pretend without actually having to do anything.”

“No working for it.”

Your smile melts to blandness. So he’d been listening, then. 

“Did you want to sing?”

“No. I wanted to be a supernumerary.”

“Strange. I’ve never heard of that,” he repeats.

“You did say, yes.” Now, the smile turns auspicious. Everyone’s here for something. “What do you do?” Perhaps this is it for him. 

You eye the rest of the congregation, at the far exit, there’s a large alpha helping an omega into his coat. 

“Got a shop, furniture, woodworking and such.”

“You make things?” He nods. “Ah, a man of creation.” 

Sitting back to take him in, he’s got the beginning insinuations of silver speckling the dark hair at his temples, a well groomed beard, and large, intimidating hands. 

His small huff of laughter is bashful, tinged with something disappointed. “No, nothin’ that grand.” And he’s got an accent heavy at the ends of his words, not Bostonian. Southern.

“But you know, I wanted to say…”

“Yes?” You press when he loses his courage, leaning towards him, inhaling deeply. 

“Well, that I know what you meant earlier. Sometimes I can be the angry house.”

You blink once. Sit back. “I see.” 

“It’s hard work. I have to try every day at it.” 

Hard work being the house, or not? Two opposite sides of the same coin. 

“How do you stop yourself?” You cast a line, fishing for his character.

“Don’t know. Keep myself cold, I think.”

“That’s no way to be.”

“No. It’s not.” He sounds amused. You want to bite him.

Everyone’s here for a reason. 

“Ah, well. Perhaps that’s what’s brought you here then,” you say, twisting the toe of your sneaker against a scuff on the old hardwood, leaning forward on your palms wrapped around the edge of the pew. 

“Maybe,” he says, but a sort of pained, exasperated sound follows it. Your hung head turns to peer at the handsome face, and he’s already looking at you. 

There’s something animal afoot. Perhaps in terms of designation, sure, of course, like the rest of the alphas and omegas here. Your designations weigh heavily in the air. But also intrinsic to your two personalities. You feel you know him. That the two of you might have the same sorts of problems, desires. And as you stare at him, you think you may be equally measuring each other’s character, finding that similarity in one another. 

His eyes move quickly between yours, over your face, and you can tell that prolonged eye contact isn’t his norm.

He has the most surprising set of bright hazel eyes like river stones. 

Suddenly, you feel desperate to pull out a flicker of sexuality in the man, hear it in his voice. Sure, that with him, the experience would be entirely different, exhilarating. Perhaps a challenge. He seems to be more quiet and more patient than any other man you’d ever come across, but also more stern—taking in that soft mouth held so firmly. Far more remote too, by the far away look in his gaze. You want to see how he could be moved and what the sight of it would look like. 

“Maybe not,” he finally continues. “I’m looking for something, I think.” 

“Something like what?”

“Someone like me.”

“An alpha?”

“No,” he looks away, cringing. The word out loud seems a shock to him. “Did you listen to the woman at the start—missing the bad thing? I struggle…with that. Holding on, not letting go even when I know I should.”

You’re at an age now which sometimes makes it hard to realize or accept that what you’re living is your life. That it’s been time to grow up. That you have to remember to move forward when it’s your turn in line. 

Which is to say, that you understand him—the difficulties of knowing when to hold on and when to give up.

“Sometimes you hurt yourself because you don’t have anything else to do. Sometimes, because the alternative is much worse.”

“Holding on ‘cause there’s nothing else to do?”

“Sure. Or you’re used to it.” You’ll be gentle with him, you decide. He’s in need of gentle handling despite the stern face; not a puzzle so arbitrarily solved. And those eyes are still so bright, he doesn’t seem like he needs any more hardship.

“Don’t know why I’m tellin’ you this,” he says, accent heavy. 

“Well you did come here for a reason. Didn’t you?” Discreetly, you slide closer to his side, but he doesn’t notice. Apparently lost in the realization that perhaps this was what he’d come here for, to talk to someone, to have someone listen and relate. You’re almost positive he’s never gotten up to share with the group before in all his time coming to the meetings; doesn’t look like the type.

“I came here because I’m going to take better care of myself,” you tell him. “I’m going to try harder.”

“Harder at what?” He blinks as if attempting to come out of a dream.

“Everything. I don’t want to end up like my parents; drunk, angry, alone. I’m scared of it. I’ve avoided at least two of them.”

“I’m afraid of getting older,” the dream moves in his eyes. “That I’ll forget,” he says, but you don’t ask what.

All of a sudden, he seems very real. The swells of grief and loneliness moving through him so similarly, so close to the surface. 

Springing up, you turn to face him and he follows to stand too. You can hear the crack of his knees unfolding, and when he lifts his left palm to stifle a gruff cough, the band of gold around his finger is paralyzing. 

All of a sudden, he’d seemed like what you’d been looking for here too. There’s laughter coming from the church rafters. 

“You’re a widower?” He wants to forget, he’d said he wants to let go. 

Hadn’t he?

But instead, “What? No.” You stare pointedly at the ring, and he looks down at it also. “No,” he repeats. 

“So’re you looking for a fuck, or what?” You try and hold back the bite it comes with, but you can’t.

“No. No. That’s not what I’m looking for.” 

You don’t understand, impaired by your youth, you forget you’d chosen to be gentle with him. “Maybe it’s what you need,” you tell him, turning towards the exit before you can watch him cringe.

He follows at your heels, grabbing his coat from the hook by the doors before he’s stepping out after you into the fall blister. It’s cold and wet and glorious out. 

“Don’t you have a coat?” He demands.

“Nope.” You start walking towards Arlington Street and the park. 

“Did you walk here? It’s freezing out.”

“I did,” you turn back towards him, still moving, and he starts to follow. 

“From where?”

“Downtown.”

“Where?” He scowls at your uncooperation, the married man. Alpha. The truth was that he’d smelt strange to you too. Like no one ever had before. As glorious and shocking as the cold. Like if snow had a scent. Disappointment churns in your gut alongside the excitement at the sight of him stalking after you. 

“I don’t think you know it.” Your backward walk is interrupted as a hurrying stranger bumps into you, sending you staggering. Watch it, the Boston snark spits. The alpha turns to scowl, heavy boot forward like he’s half a mind to follow after the person you’ve just inadvertently assaulted. 

And it occurs to you, “You didn’t tell me your name.” How silly of you. You’d been so distracted you’d forgotten to ask, and what if you never see him again after this? What if you can’t muster the courage to come back again next week? What if he can’t?

“It’s Joel.” 

You think it sounds right. 

“I might—know it.” Where you’re headed to. You smile at the dog with a bone. The disappointment pulses. “Is it far?” He presses. You shrug, looking over your shoulder. You’re going to lose yourself in the garden for a few hours, forget about him. “Why don’t you drive?”

“I like to walk,” you tell him, turning back. 

He looks at you like he doesn’t like the things you say much less the way you say them much less the way you’re grinning at him. Perhaps he can see the disappointment and is disturbed by the sight of it, but the possibility seems too altruistic. 

“You should try it sometime, Joel. You might like it too.”

His huge body seems to be shivering in the cold. 

“I think…” The look on his face has turned suspicious now. He takes a step towards you. “You’re very strange. And you’re very young. I don’t think we should be friends.”

Your heart gives a demanding thump. “We’re not going to be friends.” When you’d first spotted him in the crowd, the strangest feeling had come over you. A tug behind your belly button, a scalding heat at the back of your neck, at your wrists. Perhaps it’s merely imagination, the look of disappointment you think you see on his face right before you turn away from him to continue on walking. “And I’m not that young anymore.”

You’d known today was going to be a good day. Extra cinnamon in your latte, a late start to your morning, warm in bed, no rain in the sky despite the cloud cover. And your director, late for rehearsals after some freak accident had befallen the roof of his house.

“That’s what all young people say.”

Part 2;

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

[kitchen-spoon]

Steddie where Eddie moves into a small house in a retirement mobile home park. He is the youngest guy there and is pretty handy. All the old ladies in the neighbourhood start to talk about him when he begins to offer his handyman skills to them as well.

One day after finishing up winterizing Mrs. Harrington’s water supply to her trailer she invites Eddie inside for some tea to warm up. Winter hadn’t hit yet but it was already nippy out she told him. Once inside she invites him to come over Sunday night to join her and her friends ‘book club’. At first Eddie politely declines but once she explains to him that its all the old ladies in the neighbourhood sitting around drinking wine, smoking joints, and gossiping he’s in.

Enter Steve who visits his grandma every Sunday for dinner and sometimes stays for her gossip sessions with all the other bitties in the neighbourhood because the snacks are always great. Steve is surprised that week when the door bell rings and a hot long haired pierced man covered in tattoos is standing there instead of another old woman handing him her coat and cane. Steve sputters for a moment but then his grandmother is coming up behind him explaining this is the young man who fixed her water supply for her.

“Well um, thank you for that.” Steve nods awkwardly, watching over his shoulder as his grandmother waddled away back to her friends. “You didn’t have to come though, sorry if she twisted your arm about it, she’s stubborn.” He rubbed at the back of his neck with a small chuckle.

“It’s okay I really don’t mind.” Eddie smiled easily, inching his way into the house and Steve’s personal space. “Smoking weed with a bunch of old ladies and gossiping about my new neighbours sounds like a great way for me to spend my Sunday.” He winked.

“I- yeah it is pretty fun.” Steve agreed having not moved at all. “The snacks are always great too, you’ll have to try Betty’s blondie cake it’s always my favourite.” Steve leaned in to whisper conspiratorially.

Eddie beamed back at him, eyes roving all over Steve’s face before pausing at his lips for a second then darting back up to his eyes. “Lead the way then big boy.” Eddie bit his lip at how red Steve’s face got, he decided to push it slipping his hand into Steve’s.

“Yeah- uh sure yeah.” Steve nodded dumbly staring at their connected hands for a moment before snapping out of it and tugging Eddie along. “Everything is set up in the living room, I just got the fire going to so it should be warm.”

By the end of the night Eddie and Steve were melted into one another on a small single seater in the corner of the room. They watched as all the ladies gathered their coats one by one as their husbands came to collect them.

“It’s sweet.” Steve sighed unprompted, his head lolled against Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie made a questioning noise so he continued. “Seeing their husbands come walk them back home at the end of the night. They aren’t annoyed that their wives are giggly and a bit wobbly they are just happy they are happy and want to be there to take care of them.”

“You are a sappy stoner Steve.” Eddie teased, he moved his hand over and dropped it onto Steve’s thigh giving it a squeeze. “Can’t say I blame you though, it is very cute to see.” Eddie sighed before unsticking himself from Steve’s side and making his way to the door himself. “I better get going, no husband to come walk me home”. He blushed at the implication of his own words.

“I’ll be your husband.” Steve blurted then immediately turned red. “I mean- I meant that I uhum-“

“You can walk me home Steve.” Eddie smiled wide and teasingly. He looked his arm through Steve’s and tugged him through the door, waving goodbye to Mrs.Harrington with a promise to be back next week.

The walk was short considering Eddie was only 2 houses down and one across. They kept their arms looped the entire 3 minutes they walked, and once they reached the door Steve still hadn’t let go.

“Well goodnight.” Steve spoke first, ducking his head away. He took a deep breath then looked back to Eddie determination on his face when he spoke. “See you next week?”

Eddie smiled but shook his head, “I was hoping sooner, how does Wednesday sound?” He moved in closer his hand sliding down to Steve’s waist.

“Wednesday is great I love Wednesday.” Steve nodded frantically then cringed. “I mean I don’t actually love all Wednesday’s just this one because we are-“

Eddie cut his rambling off with a kiss. He leaned in and connected their lips, his free hand coming up to cradle the back of Steve’s head.

Steve melted into the kiss, his body going lax in Eddie’s hold, “Thanks for saving me from embarrassing myself further.”

“Anytime sweetheart.”

[yothangie]

First date?!… HELL NO

Genre: dad san, husband san, overprotective dad, teenage daughter, angst, fluff at the end

Summary: Your daughter (15) gets asked out, her first date. San doesn’t like it, he doesn’t approve, he is in overprotective dad mode.

Wrd cnt: idk i lost count 😭

Join the taglist Dad ateez Masterlist

"mom guess what" your daughter enters the house.

"remember the guy i told you about"

"i remember you telling me about 2 guys" you replied

"im talking about the guy that dances at dads studio" she clarifies

you nod your head along, pretending that you remember who the guy is.

"anyways, before class ended he asked me out on a date" your daughter squealed.

"oh thats nice, does your dad know? since the boy is from his studio" you asked.

"god no, he cannot know so please don't tell him" she plead

"you know he's gonna find out eventually and he's not gonna be happy" you said

"he's not gonna be happy regardless, he scares all the guys that go near him" she pouts

"I can't be friends with uncle Yunhos son cause dad glares at him"

you let out a small laugh as your daughter pouts.

“you should go freshen up before your dad gets back” you said

your daughter rushes up to her room knowing her dad takes forever in the shower.

———

After a few minutes your husband San walks through the door, a little tense that usual.

“is everything okay?” you said

he sighs and leans over the counter.

“i heard a little rumor at the studio” he starts

You had a feeling what the ‘rumor’ was but you didnt want to give anything away

“what rumor did you here” you asked

“funny rumor, that one of my advanced students asked out MY daughter on a date” he said he almost sounded offended.

“why is that funny” you questioned

“it’s funny because she knows she’s not allowed to date and apparently she said yes”

“did she happen to say anything to you by any chance” he asked

you tried your best to not make it seem obvious but San has known you for years he was quick to catch on.

“no she didn’t” you quickly said.

“are you sure” he raised an eyebrow.

“yeah, she just came and told me about her routine and went to go wash off”

“liar!” he said

“she didn’t do any routines today she practiced her tumbling and tricks”

you looked away knowing you messed up, you pretended you needed something to do in the kitchen.

“she told you didn’t she” san followed you.

he grabbed your arm turning you around, making some heavy eye contact.

“you know i don’t like it when you lie to me” he said

you bite your lip full of nerves, you didn’t want to throw your daughter under the bus.

“yes mom knows and it’s not a rumor”

you both looked over and see your daughter sitting at the table. San let’s go of you and walks over to your daughter.

“so you did get asked out” San said

“i did and i told him yes” your daughter said

“well tomorrow tell him no”

“i’m not, im going out with him” she stands up

“no you’re not, I’m not allowing you” san says crosses his arms

“are you serious?”

“yes im serious and that’s final” san sternly says

“you never let me do anything, you put me in a all girls class, i can’t be friends with uncle yunhos son cause you’re always glaring at him, i can’t even go out with my friends, hell they don’t even ask anymore cause they know you won’t let me i just want to live my life without having you be overprotective all the time” she snaps and storms off to her room.

—

“was i too harsh” San turns to you.

“a little” you replied

“was she right though” he mumbled

“kinda in a way” you ran your fingers through his hair.

“like what”

“well, umm everything” you said

“you can be very overprotective at times, it can sometimes make her sad”

“do i make her sad” san pouts

“you know she tells me everything right”

San slumps on your shoulder, letting out a little whine.

“i just want to protect her, i never want to see her sad and heartbroken” he said

“i know but she’s growing up and eventually she’s gonna have to experience all this” you said

“what do i do? i made my princess sad”

you pulled san away from you, turning him around and pushing him towards your daughters room.

“go talk and apologize to her, that’s all she wants” you advised.

San takes a deep breath before knocking on the door.

“princess can i come in” he says

the silence on the other side scares him, he looks over at you not knowing if he should go in or not, you signaled him to open the door and go in.

He does just that and sees his daughter curled up on her bed facing the wall, he moves closer and sits on the bed.

Your daughter sniffles a bit before turning to see her dad sitting up a bit.

One thing San hated was seeing his precious daughter cry, it’s even worse cause he was the reason for these tears.

“I’m sorry” he engulfed her in hug

“i didn’t realize how overprotective i was until you snapped”

“i’m sorry i snapped at you” you daughter said.

“don’t apologize, you have every right to” San wipes her tears.

“it just hurts to see you grow up, i didn’t think it would be this fast”

“does that mean you’ll let me go out with him” your daughter said, she added her pretty please face san can’t say no to.

“NO! you’re not dating till you’re 30” he pushed her closer to him

“dad please!” she whines

“fine, he’s a good guy and i can trust him around you” he said

“yay! thank you thank you” she squeals

“but on one condition”

“your mom and i go drop you off and pick you up” he said

“deal!”

“and no kissing or hand holding or hugging” san said

“ugh you can’t be serious” she whined.

“do we have a deal” san smirked

“deal”

San let out a big smile hugging his daughter again.

“dad can you please go freshen up”

—————

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[silassinclair]

Yandere Wild West Outlaw x Reader

CW// Possession, Obsession, Yandere Behavior, Jealousy, Suggestive Content, Gaslighting, Maddox has a housewife fetish (16+)

Masterlist

When Maddox first saw you hiding in your wardrobe after having killed your Father he was shocked to see such a pretty woman inside. He knew your Father had a daughter but he didn't know she'd be a fierce and beautiful young woman.

Maddox knew he had to have you. No way was he going to leave you in this bumfuck town in the middle of no where. You're too valuable.

He ties you up and takes you away from your hometown. You're his now so he's taking you with him wherever he goes. Having a pretty little accessory like you will give him bragging rights after all.

He takes you to saloons while he plays cards with his buddies. Has you sit still and look pretty on his lap while he drinks and plays. His friends say dirty things about you. Commenting on how submissive you are for Maddox. Maddox eats their comments up like a full course meal.

"You boys wish you had this fine piece of ass. But she's mine."

When you're at his temporary house he has you play housewife. You cook his food, clean his laundry, and most importantly you take him like a good girl and let him use you to pleasure himself.

"You like that yeah? You don't? Then shut your pretty little mouth n' take it anyway. Don't make me mad now."

But over the course of a few months and after spending more time with you he sees you less as an object to brag about and more as a companion. He sees you everyday so of course he develops feelings. Feelings he denies of course.

"You think cus' I'm being nice lately you can just skip doin' laundry? Well you've been a good girl this week so I'll let it slide... But you're doin' it tomorrow! No excuses!"

Maddox takes you to the saloon with him again as usual. This time the sexual comments his friends say make him see red. He draws his gun and shoots them all dead where they sit.

"I should have never let em' say that vulgar shit bout' you. Shoulda never let you in that shithole in the first fuckin' place. C'mon, we're goin' home."

Fucks you gently this time and prioritizes your pleasure over his. You're so cute mewling beneath him. Praises you instead of degrades you.

"You can take it princess, c'mon! Don't tell me to slowdown when I can feel how good you feel on me. Yeah that’s it, good girl. Doin’ so good for me… Ya’ feel divine~"

He slowly starts bringing you into town less often. When you ask why you can't come with him he simply says that you're safer at home.

A month goes by and you're tired of being holed up in his house. So you take the risk and leave while he's taking his afternoon nap.

Bad Choice….

"You thought you could leave me?! Baby I love ya', I really do but sometimes you're real fuckin' stupid."

Locks the doors, windows, and always has his eye on you. When he has to go out he keeps you tied to the bed by the ankle.

Every night he holds you close to him. He's a light sleeper, he'll feel if you move and try to escape him. If that happens he'll embrace you in a nearly bone crushing hug.

He’ll wrestle with you if you try and fight him, but he’ll never strike you. He’d never do that after seeing the abuse his Mother endured from her customers at the brothel.

Comes home one day with two golden rings. He wears one and forces the other onto your ring finger. It's a perfect fit.

"You're my wife now and I'm your husband. You'll address me as such, got it?"

No wedding, no priest, no judge, no documentation. He says you're his wife now and that's that.

"There's names engraved inside the rings.? That's just the name of the jeweler I got it from... Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

You two never get to settle down. You hop from one abandoned home to the other. After all he needs to always be on the run from the law. It's a stressful but exhilarating lifestyle. Danger lurks at every corner.

Loves calling you by his last name. Though your last name is still legally L/n; Maddox says that since you’re his wife you have his last name. After all you two are wearing the rings to prove it!

"Thank you for the meal Mrs. Graves, God you're perfect. Where have you been all my life?"

He adores your body. Doesn't matter what body type you have. Chub? He's kneading it with his hands while he praises you like the goddess you are. Insecure about how the outline of your ribcage is visible? He traces his fingers down to your tummy and then goes even lower... He can't keep his hands off.

Favorite thing to do is hug you from behind and just press your backside against him while you do chores. It feels so domestic and it makes him feel like he isn’t a wanted criminal for a moment.

Kisses? He loves to kiss you! His favorite spots are your ankles, tummy, and forehead. And your lips ofc!

Whenever you have to slip your stockings on he swats your hands away and does it. He’ll pull them up sensually and slowly, trailing kisses from your ankle up to your thigh as he does so.

“Your skin’s so soft princess, just wanna take a bite. You’ll let me right?”

He loves animals. His horse Jasper is his best friend. Jasper won't let anyone ride him except for you and Maddox. Anyone else gets thrown off and stomped on.

Since this is the 1800’s people don’t really bathe as often. But Maddox is different. He can’t stand having grime on him for too long after you called him stinky once. So now he bathes more often than most. And you bathe with him too. You have no choice in the matter.

“Mmm love it when you wash my hair sweetheart… Ya’ fingers feel like heaven..”

Maddox is a tough guy. He's taken bullets, stabs, you name it. He even survived a hanging once. If anything happens to you he'll fight God himself just to keep you safe. Even if it costs him his life.

"GET YA' MEATHOOKS OFF MY WIFE YOU FUCKIN' ANIMALS!"

Tells you he loves you everyday. And if you don't say it back? Well he'll just bug you until you say it. After your "marriage" he doesn't really punish you anymore. You’re his partner for life, you deserve the world.

Respects women. His Mother worked in a brothel so he witnessed how men mistreated women. He could never do that to you... Even though he did early in your relationship. But he'll never admit that! Bring it up and he'll call you crazy.

"Sweetheart I never harmed a hair on your head, quit talkin' nonsense."

Teaches you how to fire a gun just in case. Hopefully you'll never have to use the skill though.

Spoils you whenever he can. Maddox has a decent amount of money but it's still pretty tight. Buying you things isn't an option because being on the run means you need to have minimal baggage. So he treats you to dinners and cute little dates.

Overtime you get used to this life. You forget he ever even killed your old man.

Anyone is free to request anything! Don't be shy! I'm hyperfixiating on this oc so I'll happily write anything for him. As long as it isn't blatant NSFW :-)

[sansaorgana]

So I loved the way you wrote Buck with his scars! My heart was breaking! Could you maybe write one where he hates them and the reader comforts them and kisses his scars?

hi, sugar! 🥰 I am trying to write these requests chronologically but I couldn't wait to write this one, especially after seeing today's episode because domestic Buck is something I just NEED 😍 I added a whole plot around it, so you can also expect some of jealous Gale 👀 basically, his wife befriended some man when he was away and now he's jealous and insecure that he's not so handsome anymore lol like it's even possible

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

Buck stepped on the stool to take off the last of the Welcome Home signs as his wife stood below with her hand gently put on his thigh, making sure he wouldn’t fall. She didn’t want to miss any opportunity to touch him ever since he had come back.

Buck smiled to himself. It still felt odd to be back home and to be around his wife’s comforting presence, surrounded by her love and affection.

He furrowed his brows at the ceiling’s colour, though. It was oddly snow white and he remembered that it had been needing a renovation when they had moved in a few weeks before his departure to Europe.

“The ceiling’s been painted,” he pointed out as he handed his wife the paper sign and she took it from him to put it away.

“Yes. Ritchie’s done it,” she answered casually.

Buck froze for a second before stepping down from the stool and taking a better look at his wife. She didn’t look as if she was hiding some secret, though.

“Who is Ritchie?” He tried to remain cool. He had no right to be jealous. He didn’t want to be one of those husbands who didn’t want their wives to have any male friends.

Still, he was jealous.

“Oh, Ritchie, he’s just a… Just a friend, I mean…” (Y/N) chuckled and he could see her eyes sparkling. Buck’s jaw clenched at that reaction. “He’s a doctor, a local doctor, you know.”

“Do I know him?” Buck asked, trying to remember if he had known any Ritchies.

“No, no, honey, he was sent here when you had been… away,” she sighed. “I met him at the party…” (Y/N) got nervous explaining and Buck furrowed his brows at her. “I didn’t want to go, my friends forced me, I swear, Buck. It gave me no pleasure to dance and have fun knowing that you were… at some camp, I…” She shook her head and her eyes filled with tears.

“Shh,” Buck put his arms around her and brought her closer to place a kiss on the top of her head. “I hoped you would go out sometimes and have fun. I never wanted you to sit at home alone and cry all day and night. I hoped you’d know that, baby.”

“I know… Well, Ritchie was there. He wasn’t sent to Europe because we need doctors here, too,” (Y/N) sniffed her tears back and looked up at her husband. “He offered me help around the house. He painted the ceiling and took care of that spare room that might be a nursery one day… He fixed the drain and helped to mow the grass. You know, that sort of stuff,” (Y/N) explained. “I don’t know what I’d do without him, Buck. And he did that all for free!”

“For free, you say?” Buck raised an eyebrow. She looked so sweet and innocent, he didn’t want to accuse her of anything but he didn’t trust other men as much as he trusted his girl.

“Completely!” She assured him and nodded her head. “I wanted to pay him, I really did. But he told me that my husband was serving the country and it was his duty to help. He’s a sweetheart, really, Buck,” she tried to convince her husband. “In fact,” (Y/N) took a step back and smiled, “I think you should meet him. I think you’ll adore him! And you should thank him, too.”

“Thank him?” Buck asked, surprised. Perhaps she was right. He should. After all, that man had helped his wife enormously. But the ugly jealousy was too overwhelming.

“Of course!” (Y/N) gave him a scolding look. “Don’t you think he deserves to be thanked? Let me call him! I’ll invite him for dinner. He’s usually free on Sundays,” she ran to the telephone.

Buck only watched as she excitedly dialled the number she had memorised by heart. After a short while, someone on the other side of the line picked up and she smiled widely.

“Hey-ho, Ritchie, darling!” She started and Buck chewed on the inside of his cheek. He leaned on the wall, trying to look cool about it but he was exploding inside. “I was thinking that perhaps you’d join us for dinner tonight? I’d make that lasagna you like so much!” (Y/N) told her friend.

Buck tried not to look surprised that the mysterious Ritchie had his favourite dish already.

The truth was, Buck didn’t have any favourite dish (Y/N) made. And he hadn’t done much around this house before his departure either. They had gotten married two months before. He had been away for more than a year. That Ritchie guy had spent more time with his wife than he had. And it was killing him inside to realise that.

His wife had been everything that made his will to survive so strong. To see her again, to smell her, to touch her, to hear her laugh. She had saved him hundreds of times without even realising. And of course, as he had said to her, he hadn’t wanted her to spend all her days crying after him. But it still stinged his heart that she had some gentleman friend around. Cooking for him, renovating the house together, God-only-knows what else…

“Oh, no, you won’t be a bother!” (Y/N) shook her head to the receiver. “Buck wants to meet you and thank you for everything,” she turned around to smile at her husband. “Well, in two hours perhaps? Great!”

She put the receiver down and approached Buck to hug him and kiss his cheek.

“I can’t believe you’re here with me again… It feels so surreal,” she admitted.

He only hugged her closer, trying not to say anything. All he could feel was jealousy and he didn’t want to open his mouth and accidentally hurt her with his words.

Doctor Ritchie Nelson was older than Buck had expected – around 40. And much more handsome, too. Buck had naively hoped it would be some senior man living down the street or something like that. But no, he looked like a fucking actor. He had shiny black hair and bright blue eyes. He was a few inches taller and his clothes were very elegant.

Buck shook his hand to greet him when he opened the door.

“Major,” Ritchie saluted and then he gave Buck the most wonderful smile. Buck swallowed thickly.

Fuck me, he thought.

“Just call me Buck, doc,” he only said.

“And you call me Ritchie, son,” Ritchie walked inside as if the house had been his.

Buck closed the door behind him. He didn’t like being called son by that man even if he was older. But he didn’t want to start an argument and make his wife sad. She seemed to be very excited about the two of them finally meeting.

“(Y/N)’s in the kitchen now. She will serve the food in a moment. Follow me,” Buck headed to the dining room, painfully realising how stupid his words must have sounded. Of course Ritchie knew where to go.

But Ritchie didn’t say anything to that and took his place by the table.

“Hello, (Y/N)!” He raised his voice in the kitchen’s direction.

“Hello, sweetheart!” (Y/N) greeted him back and Buck took a seat across the table so he could face the man.

Before he could open his mouth to ask about something, his wife went inside with the plates. She put the food on the table and joined them, sitting right in between. 

“So, your wife told me that you went down over Bremen,” Ritchie started so naturally. He had to be born with this charm and charisma. “That was hell of a mission, I’ve heard on the radio.”

“Oh, Ritchie, let’s not talk about the war, can we?” (Y/N) batted her eyelashes at him. “Please,” she laid her eyes on her husband and Buck nodded at her.

He also didn’t want to talk about the war. Especially with a man who had not been there.

“Of course,” Ritchie cleared his throat.

“I’d rather listen to your stories,” Buck told him. “What did I miss ‘round town?”

He quickly regretted asking that question. (Y/N) and Ritchie were telling him all sorts of stories and gossip about local women, drunkards, policemen, priests, divorces and marriages, new children getting born... He wouldn’t mind that itself but the way they interacted with each other made his heart sink deep in his chest.

(Y/N) was mostly looking at Ritchie and her eyes were sparkling whenever he said something funny. She would often touch his wrist when she was laughing and they had a ton of inside jokes that Buck didn’t even want to ask about.

“Oh, you tell that story. You tell it the best!” She would say often and then she would interrupt Ritchie all the time to add her own details. But Ritchie didn’t seem to mind.

Buck couldn’t handle it anymore. He stood up suddenly and they looked up at him, questioningly.

“Are you alright, darling?” (Y/N) asked him, worryingly.

“Yes, I just… I want water…” Buck said and she nodded her head.

He went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass before leaning on the counter and watching his wife still talking to Ritchie. They looked so natural together, so comfortable around each other.

In fact, she looked more relaxed around Ritchie than around Buck. The truth was that things had been awkward between them. When they were alone, they would sit in silence most of the time. And she didn’t look as relaxed as she did now.

Buck clenched his jaw and joined them by the table again, even though he felt as if he was a third wheel.

“Oh, Buck, baby, I forgot to tell you,” (Y/N) grabbed his arm and then she pointed at Ritchie. “Ritchie used to be a model.”

Fucking wonderful, Buck thought. But he pretended to be surprised as he laid his eyes at the other man.

“Oh, please,” Ritchie rolled his eyes and chuckled.

The worst part of Ritchie was that he was not mean. He wasn’t teasing Buck or trying to show off. He really was a nice man... who just happened to have a good relationship with Buck’s wife.

“I mean it! Back in the 30s. He was on the cover of the magazine!” (Y/N) finished the story. “I mean, look at him,” she laid her eyes on Ritchie. “40 this year and face so smooth,” her voice sounded almost dreamy.

Buck moved uncomfortably in his seat. His face was far from smooth now with a few scars scattered on his cheeks. They were not deep but he could see them every time he looked in the mirror. A painful reminder of what he had been through. He would never have a face like Ritchie fucking Nelson. He had already been uncomfortable with the scars but now he hated them.

He took a better look at his wife. God, she was so pretty. So full of life. She deserved someone like her. Not a man broken by the war like him.

“I actually could sign a contract and go to Hollywood,” Ritchie confessed, a little shyly.

“But he chose to refuse and become a doctor,” (Y/N) shook her head and looked at Buck. “Can you believe that? I’d choose Hollywood,” she joked and Ritchie laughed.

Buck forced a chuckle. He couldn’t focus on her words anymore anyway.

“It’s getting late,” Ritchie took a glance at his watch. “I’m opening my cabinet tomorrow in the early morning. I should be going now.”

“Of course,” (Y/N) nodded and stood up to walk him to the front door. Buck remained in the dining room and waited for her to be back.

It took her quite a long time to say goodbye to her friend. He almost stood up himself to check on them but that was when she finally joined him and sat back by that table.

An awkward silence occurred between them.

“Isn’t he lovely?” (Y/N) started as she played with the food on her plate.

“Yes,” Buck nodded. “Damn, I forgot to thank him.”

“It’s alright. He doesn’t really expect that. You can do that next time, too,” she took his hand in hers and caressed it gently.

He hated to see her more stiff and awkward around him than she had been around Ritchie.

“I’ll wash the dishes,” she sighed and stood up, taking the plates from the table.

Buck stood in front of the mirror in the morning and looked at his freshly shaven face. Last night he had a nightmare again and he didn’t get a lot of sleep. His eyes missed the spark he had had before his departure to Europe. They were tired now and sadder, no matter how much he tried to be the same man as before. There were a few new wrinkles on his forehead, too. And those awful scars on his cheeks. His face was definitely not smooth.

“Knock, knock, baby,” (Y/N) opened the door gently. “What is taking you so long? I thought you were shaving,” she smiled softly at him. “I started to worry.”

“I got distracted, sorry,” he reached out for the towel to wipe the remaining shaving cream off of his face but (Y/N) approached him to do it herself.

“Aw, look at you, my handsome husband,” she gave him a warm and loving smile.

He hated that little voice in his head telling him that she had said that out of pity.

“Not anymore,” Buck chuckled nervously and put an aftershave on.

“What are you talking about?” (Y/N) furrowed her brows as she stared at his reflection in the mirror.

He only shook his head, scared that he would start crying if he said something now.

“Gale?” She asked softly as she delicately put her hand on his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, look at my face now,” he turned around to face her as his voice trembled.

“I am looking, baby,” she bit on her lower lip and placed her hands on his cheeks to caress them gently with her thumbs. “Do you mean those scars, love?” She asked, nervously.

Buck only nodded as his eyes filled with tears.

“Can I be honest with you, my darling?” She asked and he nodded again. “Well, I didn’t want to mention them when you came back home. I didn’t know if I could, I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or sad… But I wanted to tell you…” she hesitated for a moment and his heart skipped a beat.

He expected her to tell him now that they were indeed ugly or making him less attractive. Of course, she would later tell him she loves him despite them and all that jazz. What else would she say?

“I know that they’re on your face because you’ve been hurt and in pain, so I don’t feel good saying this but… Well, I think they make you look even more handsome,” she admitted and Buck’s eyes widened a little. “Am I a bad wife for thinking that?” She asked, nervously. “I’m sorry if I am. But you look so brave, my darling. And so handsome. They make me feel so proud to be your wife when I see them,” she leaned in to place small kisses up and down one of his cheeks and then the other.

“I thought you liked Ritchie’s soft face…” Buck muttered out.

“Wh-what?” (Y/N) took a step back to look deep into his eyes, her hands still caressing his cheeks. “Oh, you’re jealous?”

“Well, how can I not be?” Buck held her wrists gently and moved them out of his face to place soft kisses upon her knuckles. One at the time. “He spent more time with you than me. You’re so comfortable around him. I’m glad you had a friend when I was gone. But I can’t help not to be jealous,” he confessed. “He’s not as broken as me.”

“Gale,” (Y/N) shook her head. “You’re the only man for me. I’ve been waiting for you here, each day and night. And those silly scars you’re so bothered about? Goddamit, I was praying to all the gods in the world to bring you back to me, even without arms or legs, so what do they even matter? They’re nothing. I just wanted my husband back with me!” She began to tear up.

“I know,” Buck brought her closer to hug her. “I’m not accusing you of anything, I know.”

“Oh, you’d be an idiot if you accused me,” she chuckled through the tears.

“Why?” He asked and rubbed her back.

“Because Ritchie… He…” She tried to find the right words. “Well, he doesn’t like women, if you know what I mean.”

Oh.

What a burden had just left Buck’s heart. He chuckled out of relief.

“Yeah, I should have… I should have known. There was something about him,” he admitted.

“He’ll be flattered that you thought of him as competition. It means you find him attractive,” (Y/N) giggled and Buck rolled his eyes before hugging her even tighter. “I love you, Major Cleven,” she squeezed him tighter too. “All of you, all the scars and all the breaks you claim to have.”

Buck was left speechless for a moment. He just kept holding her and kissed her temple before finally speaking up.

“I love you, too, Mrs. Cleven.”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[shhhsecretsideblog]

They had been trying for a baby for a while, when finally she was looking at a positive test. Unfortunately, there was only one time it could have happened. A bit too much to drink, a few confessions that she'd sometimes thought about her husbands best friend in some of her more intimate fantasies, and just like that his little secret had taken root in her belly.

She was excited to be a mom, but can't bring herself to tell her husband she's expecting. Hiding her bump as best she can, not letting herself be intimate with him in case he noticed her beautiful changing body, how firm and heavy her belly had gotten. She has a plan. Give birth in secret where he won't find out, and then claim someone left the baby there. "Probably some teenager or something, can't imagine how she could raise it." Of course, since they're struggling to have one of their own, it's all but a sign. Of course they should take it in.

A perfect little plan for the eager mom to get out of her bad choice concequence free.

At least, it would be, if her waters hadn't broken in the shower, and the contractions were starting to get worse and worse, no matter how she tried to pretend otherwise and act like nothing was happening...

Extramarital Consequences

AN: I just wanted to write a short little rp drabble, but instead it comes out as a full scale 3k word fic. Thanks for the prompt MuchBirth, it was a great concept. Hope you like it. [fpreg, tw: vomit, tw: cheating]

“Are you alright in there, babe?” My husband's voice sounded through the bathroom door and I tried to swallow the groan that was sitting in my throat.

Why now, why today?! I had done so well concealing this pregnancy from everyone, thanks to the cold winter and the abundance of thick oversized jumpers and coats. And for the fact I was carrying a rather modest, if heavy, bump. Said bump had dropped in recent days and I had hoped the baby was merely getting prepared and wouldn’t be coming for another week when Daniel would be away on business. The baby, it seemed, had other ideas.

The contractions had started in the early hours and I laid beside my husband quietly breathing through each pain and praying it was just braxton hicks. But they just kept on coming. Every 40 minutes… every 30 minutes… and when they got down to 20 minutes apart I knew I had to move.

Hiding downstairs in the dark, I paced around our living room and kitchen as the contractions got closer together and more and more intense. Why couldn’t it have been a work day?! Daniel would leave the house early and I could labour and birth this baby in secret just as I’d planned. But it was Saturday and we were scheduled to go to a family event that afternoon. The heavy weight of the baby sitting low in my pelvis confirmed there was little-to-no chance of me making it to that party.

I paced around the downstairs of our town house until the early morning with its first glimpse of a rising sun filtering through the windows. Bracing myself against walls, tables, all manner of furniture, I spent hours swaying my hips through each agonising contraction that struck, praying they would eventually stop but they never did. I heard Daniel get out of bed and jump in the shower and I busied myself doing the dishes when he came downstairs. He looked at me curiously, seeing my sweaty and flushed face and asked if I was coming down with something. I assured him I was fine as he made his morning coffee, but soon had to twist back around to face the sink to hide the grimace on my face as another strong contraction barrelled its way through my womb. My hands gripped the counter in a white knuckle grip and it took everything I had not to whimper from the pain.

After assuring Daniel that I was alright, I disappeared quickly back upstairs and locked myself in the bathroom. I turned on the shower, the tiled room echoing the loud noise of the powerful jets, and allowed myself to groan deeply through the next contraction. They were less than 15 minutes apart and had the ability to steal my breath away. Gripping the sink and panting heavily, my mind began to spiral and panic. How the fuck was I going to keep this from Daniel?! We were struggling to conceive, if his discovered this pregnancy there would be no way I could pass this baby off as his. He would find out I slept with his best friend and my dream of a suburban family life would be destroyed. The baby sank lower in my hips and my knees dipped into a semi-squat from the increase in pressure. We were supposed to go to a party later, with family and friends, and Daniel would be by my side all day. But this baby was coming, soon if the pressure between my legs was any indication.

I stepped into the shower, attempting to ease the pain knifing at my lower back. Cupping my protruding belly I whispered a plea to the baby to stay put a while longer. I loved my pregnant body and was sad not to have shared this experience, to marvel at the incredible changes of pregnancy, with my partner. But there was an alluring excitement in keeping the baby secret - something just known by them and me. I couldn’t wait to meet the life I had been growing.

My thoughts tempted fate and the next contraction was soon upon me and I doubled over in the shower bracing my knees. The pressure between my thighs was building, the steaming hot water doing very little to ease the pain as it crested, my belly turning to stone and pushing everything downward. “Mnghhhhhhh!!” I grunted, involuntary, and almost dropped into a squat as the urgency built. No… baby, not now.

The water at my feet turned a pinkish murky colour and I knew from the release of pressure that my waters had just broken. Fuck.

When the contraction faded and my legs stopped shaking I carefully stepped out of the shower. Okay… my water’s broken but that doesn’t mean I’ve run out of time. I just need to think of a way of getting Daniel out of the house. I could feel the baby shift and kick within my womb, protesting the situation as much as I was, its head pressing eagerly against my cervix. “Hoooo… it’ll be okay little one. I promise— mnnnnhhhh…” Every breath, every word, that slipped past my lips now laced with a pained groan.

“Are you alright in there, babe?” Daniel asked from the other side of our bathroom door. I clamped my mouth shut and swallowed the involuntary noises from escaping.

“Nng— yeah— fine.” I somehow gritted. The weight and pressure pushing down in my pelvis was quickly making me nauseous.

“Are you sure? You weren’t looking too great downstairs.”

Damn him and his caring nature, just move away from the door before I scream! A contraction struck mere minutes after the last and I couldn’t stop the gasp as my belly visibly hardened and contorted inwards. The pressure was mounting, expanding like a balloon about to burst, my pelvis being shoved apart to make space for the large head that was pressing atop my cervix. I couldn’t breathe, the sensations overwhelming my senses, my stomach rolled and my throat gagged. I was going to be sick.

Dropping to my knees, naked on the floor, I hunched over the toilet bowl and promptly vomited the remnants of last night's dinner into the porcelain. My whole torso contracted in on itself in more ways than one and I completely lost all semblance of control. My taut belly, hardened by labour pains, convulsed and I heaved and coughed loudly. The force of throwing up also resulted in my womb squeezing against the bowling ball in my pelvis, bearing down on the already low head and pushing it into the birth canal.

“Oh sweetheart, are you sick?” Daniel asked through the door. “Let me in honey.”

“No, just— give me a minute…” I gruffed, laying my head in the crook of my elbow.

“We don’t have to go today if you’re not well. I can stay here and look after you.”

Hell no, that is the last thing I need. I asked him to get me some water from the kitchen, to buy me some precious time to gather myself. When the sickness passed I hesitantly put a hand between my legs… the baby so low it felt like it was about to fall out at any minute. I had pushed. I didn’t mean to, it was automatic. But still my body had pushed the baby lower towards its exit. Thankfully it was not as low as it felt as I couldn’t feel a head, but I knew it wouldn’t be long. Wrapping myself in a fluffy dressing gown and schooling as neutral a face as I could, I unlocked the door and greeted my husband as he brought me the requested water.

“I don’t think I’m going to go today, I feel like shit.” I said honestly, taking a sip and slowly walking towards our bed, careful not to waddle from the massive head lodged in my pelvis.

“It’s okay babes, we can cancel. I’ll call your parents.” Daniel offered, helping me to sit.

“No—” I said a little too quickly. “You- you can still go. I’ll just take it easy and s-sleep it off…” He looked at me curiously, trying to ascertain just how unwell I was and if I could be left alone. “Really,” I pleaded, “I’ll be fine. Go, have fun.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

“I am. Really—mmhh…” My hands clenched tight as another contraction was beginning to appear, my fingernails burrowing deep into my palms. “W-why don’t you go e-early… see if they need h-help setting up.” My stomach tensed beneath my fluffy dressing gown and I shifted subtly on the bed as an immeasurable pressure returned with the pain. This baby was not waiting until the afternoon for Daniel to leave for the party, I desperately needed him to go now.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Daniel joked, tucking a frazzled lock of hair behind my ear. “I want to stay and look after you darling, make sure you’re okay.”

“Mnnn… I just need to lie down…” I huffed, trying to keep the strain from my voice. My body was itching to move, to sway and move my hips, to open up for the emerging baby as the contractions worked hard to deliver the child. But I had to fight against the instincts, ignore all the cues in the recess of my brain. Slumping sideways down on the bed, I curled over my contracting belly and arduously moved to lie under the covers. My skin was radiating heat but I couldn’t remove my dressing gown, couldn’t risk exposing a glimpse of my pregnant body. Had to stay covered, had to hide this baby, had to stay sweating beneath the fluffy gown and duvet covers.

Daniel stroked my hair as I curled up and I couldn’t help but scrunch my eyes through the pain barrelling between my hips. Oh baby, wait a bit more… please.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright hun?” Daniel questioned once more and I managed to gruff out an assurance, stating that I’d be fine and just needed to be alone.

Thankfully I felt the bed shift, my husband getting up and leaving the room saying something about calling the family and giving me space to rest. I sighed in relief at the sound of the bedroom door closing.

Lying on my side helped the constant stabbing pain in my lower back but it was doing nothing to prevent the baby from making its way further down. I could feel it pressing against every nerve from the inside, pushing its way through the narrow space. I tried to squeeze my thighs, to clench everything I could to stop its movements but nothing worked. The pressure was constant, sitting heavily and urgently at the apex of my thighs. Rolling forward I buried my face deep in the pillow to muffle the rattled groan that came from the pit of my stomach. The baby was right there, its imminent arrival clear by the agonising pressure consuming me. I tried to fight it, meeting every wave with defiance, but my attempts were failing. I needed to push.

Before I was even aware of what was happening my whole body tensed and bore down with the peak of the contraction. It felt…satisfying, to give in to the urge and push alongside the tensing muscles, to work with my body instead of against it. Gasping a ragged breath, I pushed again, more forcefully this time. It was moving, inching closer towards my folds. Without thinking I grabbed my leg, still wrapped under the layers of clothing and duvet, and I pulled it towards me so my thigh was beside my contracting belly. I had to make more room, I needed to open myself up for the emerging babe. The back of my knee was damp from sweat and I gripped it tight, opening my hip beneath the covers, and gritting my teeth I pushed again.

It was coming, I could feel it! The contraction soon ended and I let my leg fall back against the other, curled up sideways on the bed and panting frantic breaths. A knock on the bedroom door brought me out of my birthing bubble, suddenly remembering Daniel was still in the house. Oh fuck, what if he heard me pushing?!

“Honey..? Can I come in?” His tentative voice asked and opened the door a crack. I groaned, neither an acceptance or refusal, but it was all I could manage.

Daniel stepped in our bedroom softly. “I’ve spoken with your parents and I’m going to head over there early and help them set up. I know you like to be alone when you’re unwell.” I nearly cried with relief.

“But I’ll come back to check on you before the party starts, okay?” Daniel perched on the edge of the bed and brushed his fingers through my sweaty hair. I nodded and exhaled heavily, hoping it looked like I was just fighting nausea and nothing more. “I’ll get you a bucket, just in case.” Daniel said sweetly and disappeared into our en-suite bathroom.

The contractions were right on top of each other now, the baby was sitting right between my legs desperate to get out. The next wave hit when Daniel was out of sight and I panted as quietly as I could. Don’t push… don’t push… don’t push… I thought over and over again. Curled up on my side my legs drifted apart, one leg bent at the knee, the other straight down the length of the bed. The pressure was slowly killing me; the strain of holding everything in, the baby slipping lower, pressing gently against my labia despite my efforts. Fuck I needed to push, but I daren’t. Daniel was still here…. Breathe… don’t push… breathe… don’t push… Even with the mantra my body did not adhere to the instructions. At the end of each measured breath I could feel my muscles bearing down and pushing the baby, its head starting to part my sensitive lips.

Daniel came back into the room and placed a bucket beside the bed, right next to the pillow where my face was half buried. “How you holding up?” He asked affectionately. I couldn’t speak, could barely breathe, every ounce of strength going into not actively pushing. Instead I closed my eyes and tilted my face further into the pillow.

In the faint background of my personal hell I could hear my husband slowly pottering around our bedroom as he got himself dressed and ready to leave for the party. Every minute dragged on for hours, as he found his trousers and shirt, muttering to himself, all the while I wanted to scream and howl and push! The baby was parting my folds, its head surely poking out between my thighs. Tears dampened the pillow and I was trembling, trying desperately hard not to push. But even without my participation, the baby was slowly making its way into the world. I nervously lowered one of my hands beneath the heavy covers, feeling between my legs. Oh my gosh… that’s my baby I thought as I felt the slimy surface of the partial sliver of its head. It was moving down, every contraction squeezing it further out of my body. My palm clamped hard over the emerging head… don’t… don’t pushhhhhh… a weak groan rumbled my throat as my body uncontrollably pushed, hard.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Daniel asked.

I was far from okay, I was pushing his best friend's baby into my own palm for fucks sake. In between pushes, I gulped a breath and offered a short and snappy “uh-huh” before my body was forced to bear down once more. My hand remained steadfast in its position between my legs and thankfully the baby didn’t slip out any further. Once the contraction eased I panted a relieved sigh.

“I’m heading out now babes.” Daniel stated aloud. “I’ll be back to check on you later. I love you.”

“Ngghh— love you too—” my rasped voice came from under the covers. I was in too much pain to notice the guilt that twisted in my chest.

I remained frozen in the bed, my ears listening desperately for the sound of the front door to close and his car to start. The roar of the engine, the glorious sound, slipped through the vents in the bedroom window and I sobbed with relief. He was gone!!

Immediately I threw the covers off my sweaty skin and tore myself out the tangled mess of my dressing gown. The baby was partially crowning and my gods I needed to push. Everything hurt, everything ached, I needed to move but there was no strength left in my body to get up. Hooking a leg over the edge of the mattress I rolled off the bed and slipped down to my knees on the luscious carpet.

With my elbows on the mattress and my face buried against the sheets, my knees widened on the floor and my hips sank downwards as I pushed with everything that I had. Burning fiery pressure erupted between my thighs and I growled through the excruciating pain, pushing and pushing and pushing. I couldn’t take it anymore, this baby had to get out. My entire body trembled as the baby stretched me open, but I kept going push after push and with a primal grunt the head finally slipped out. Relief flooded through me as the pressure eased. Panting, desperate for air, I was barely aware of any of my other senses; of the now-damp carpet under my knees, or the sound of the engine returning to our driveway, or the creek of the bedroom door being opened.

“Honey?… I errr… I forgot my phone and then I heard you scream. What’s… what’s going on?” Daniel asked, frozen in shock at the door.

“…um… I erm…” I stuttered, speechless and naked beside the bed, an illegitimate baby hanging between my legs. “I umm…I— I— ohhhh… oh I need to push….!!!” Before I could think of an explanation my body was bearing down once more, birthing my husband’s best friend’s baby right beside our marital bed.

[gummygowon]

my girl(s) | choi san

word count: 1.27k hehe

genre: fluff bro so much, slight childhood friends to lovers, established relationship, soon to be dad!san x pregnant!reader

warnings: san just worrying too much that he gets exhuasted

song playlist: my girl - the temptations, be my baby - the ronettes, la vie en rose - èdith piaf

author's note: seeing san get heated about how that one husband treats his wife made me think about how sweet and caring san would be in a relationship and then i started playing fifties's music and boom here where we are

choi san was just an absolute gentlemen, it was one of the many reasons why you loved him so much.

you vividly remember when you were younger, san declaring to the dinner table that his wife's hands will never be wet in the future, promising that he will be doing everything for her which impressed all the other neighborhood parents. a few parents joked at him to remember their daughters in the future which you rolled your eyes at. san was obviously bluffing and trying to impress everyone. you found it hard to believe that a man would be able to care so much for his wife like san said.

it was almost laughable how wrong child you was.

san quite literally did everything around the house, always insisting that you go lie down and relax even though he just came home from work. it was definitely a hassle trying to get your husband to relax let alone sit down after dinner since he was always insisting that he did the dishes even if he cooked.

"san, baby go shower," you whisper into his ear while he was doing the dishes, "let me do this. go relax."

instantly turning around in protest, san folds his arms in front of his chest, "no."

"san," you warn, the mother in your voice coming out.

"absolutely not." san protests, standing up even taller to tower over you, "you are my pregnant wife who needs to rest. i need my girls to rest."

"san, we don't even know the gender yet." you argue. it was only today that you found out you were pregnant after you realized that you were two weeks late and sped to the nearest drugstore for a test.

"i know but i think we're having a girl." san says knowing with smile on his face, he was just getting excited at the thought of having a baby girl. "still though, you should rest."

"san, i'm fine, you on the other hand should rest."

"but-"

"who has a eight hour shift at seven am tomorrow baby?"

"i do." san dejectedly answers with a pout on his face. san didn't hate his job as a martial arts instructor but if he had to choose between you and his job, he would choose you without a doubt over and over again.

"i promise when my belly grows you can pamper me all you want but not yet. you still need to take care of yourself before i'm unable to take care of myself."

"promise?" he asks as he intertwined his fingers with you.

"promise." you answer before sealing the deal with a kiss.

a few months later, when the baby bump began to show, san became even more protective of you.

finally on your maternity leave, you spent the time at home reading parenting books and knitting clothes for your baby making an assortment of colors. sometimes, you ventured down to the dojo that was connected to the house causing san to stop whatever he was doing and guide you down the stairs.

"yah! choi san!" you shout at your husband who completely abandoned his lesson to aid you, "i can walk down just fine! go back to teaching!"

"no!" he argues before turning back to his class to yell, "five minute water break!"

a collective "yes sir" was heard from the group as the students dispersed to the sidelines.

"san, i love you but i promise i'm fine!"

"i know, but i still worry over you my love." san confesses as he carefully holds your hand as you walk down.

"aigoo..."

closer to your date, you spent most of your days either in the dojo working at the front desk so that san could keep on you (more like you could keep an eye on him) or upstairs reading more parenting books and preparing the baby's room.

"how's the baby?" wooyoung asks, an old friend of san who occasionally stopped by the dojo to check up on you and take out san to relax.

"doing great! the doctors are saying the baby is healthy and don't see any problems or complications yet."

"ahhh, that's great to hear! how's san doing though? still stressing?"

"oh you bet he is." you sigh, running a hand through your hair. "taking him out for a drink tonight?"

"trying to but you know he doesn't like to leave your side."

another sign escapes your lips, it was possible that san was stressing you out by not being able to relax. "i'll convince him. he's been worrying too much."

"good luck with that one." wooyoung laughs.

"woo!" your husband shouts at his best friend coming out of the studio to the front with a towel in hand. "what brings you here?"

"just checking in your wife and the baby." wooyoung starts before flashing a quick glance at you, "but the boys and i are about to head down to the bar if you wanna grab a drink."

"ahhh, you know i would love to but," san says looking down at you with a smile. lately he's been running around the house trying to satisfy you're weird pregnancy cravings and help with the morning sickness all while still working full time down at the dojo. the stress and exhaustion was evident on your poor baby's face as the eye bags deepened and he wasn't his cheery self.

instead of returning the smile, you frown at him confusing san. "go sannie, i'll be fine."

"don't-"

"san, i will be okay." you laugh a little, trying to ease san's nerves, "i'll be down the street okay, baby? you deserve a break."

san looks back at wooyoung who looks eerily similar to the devil on his shoulder. "are you sure? what about dinner?"

"your mom dropped off some soup for us earlier, i can eat that. go out, have fun! you need to have some fun once in awhile baby."

"fine, but not too late." san complies while pointing a finger at wooyoung.

"i promise to bring him before eleven ma'am." wooyoung promises saluting to you before shooing san to go get changed.

"take care of him woo!"

the day of the pregnancy was absolutely terrifying yet exciting. it was the thrill of finally becoming parents that was the only thing keeping you sort of calm. your mind wandered every now and then to the idea of you being a bad mother but san was quick to shut down those thoughts.

you guys still didn't have any idea of what the gender was, deciding it would be fun to find out the day of. san was still confident that you guys were going to have a girl even though all the ajummas begged to differ with their superstitions.

"it's a girl!" the doctor exclaimed cuddling the newbown baby.

"i told you!" san shouts jumping into the air out of excitement before wrapping his arms tightly around you, his lips on your forehead. "thank you. thank you so much." tears of happiness flowed from san's eyes as he held you close, his warm embrace making you feel overwhelmed with his love.

"i love you so so much." san cried into your neck as he looked through blurry eyes at you cradling your daughter.

you couldn't even say anything too tired and overwhelmed to give a proper response. instead, you just cried with san holding the baby so close to your heart.

it felt refreshing? calming? something like that to be able to cry away your emotions. even the worries of becoming a mother washed away and instead hope and excitement for the future replaced the negative thoughts. you couldn't believe that you finally have a kid with the love of your life, not even just the love of your life but your best friend in the whole wide world.

god, you were so lucky to have a san in your life and he was just as lucky or even more to have you in his life. now, the both of you were fortunate to have a third in your new little family.

san let out a sniffle before planting a wet kiss to the crown of your head, "my girls."

[eideticmemory]

BABY DADDY | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

A one night stand leads to much, much more than either of you bargained for.

Word Count: 8.3k

Warning/Includes: BabyDaddy!Matthew, duh!!! Smut Lite™️.

So, the thing about babies is that they don’t really give a fuck about context. They truly couldn’t care less about what you’re doing, what’s happening in your life, your goals, your dreams, your ambitions. It’s all irrelevant. They will show up anyway. And what the little clump of cells in your uterus has failed to realize is that you do not know their father. At all.

Seriously.

You know him biblically. Obviously. You’ve shared drinks and a bed. You’ve seen him naked. He’s seen you naked. You’ve spent, maybe, an hour and a half together total. And you spent the majority of that time making the conscious decision to leave together, undress and fuck. You’re pretty sure the last thing you said to him was, “Safe travels.” As in, I don’t want to see you again. As in, If all goes well, I should never have to see you again.

You used a condom. You’re not dumb, you used a condom. So when weeks passed by and your period was late, you didn’t think anything of it. It happens. Sometimes periods are just late.

But it never came.

You bought the pregnancy test just to be safe. In fact, you were so sure that you were playing it safe that you didn’t take it for another three days. Pushing it back and back, hoping your period would come.

It didn’t.

So you squatted over the toilet and got a good amount of pee on the thing and waited two minutes just for it to stare you directly in the eye and say: FUCK YOU, DUMB BITCH. YOU’RE PREGNANT.

Okay, it just said pregnant. But that’s what went through your head. Your knees buckled and you grabbed your stomach, almost like you could feel the thing just hanging out in there. You doubled over, thinking you were going to puke, but you didn’t. You eye the test again and then, out of pure nerves, you puke.

You buy two more tests. They call you a dumb bitch again, just a little louder. You want a bottle of wine but you don’t have one because you’re pregnant. You want a lighter and a goddamn cigarette but you don’t have one because you don’t even smoke and you’re pregnant.

You sit down for lunch with your friend and it’s the first time you say these words out loud.

She yells, “You’re what?”

Pregnant!

You give her this look that says please don’t make me say it again and she doesn’t. She heard you very well the first time.

“W-wh-what…” she trembles. Shaking, like she’s the one knocked up. “What? H-how…what? who’s the daddy?”

You sigh, cut your eyes up at her, and her jaw drops, stuttering, “O-oh…no…no…[y/n]…no.”

“It’s gotta be him. He’s the last guy I had sex with. I had gotten my period before then. Now, no period, three positive pregnancy tests.”

“Three?” she shouts. “Oh, so you’re pregnant pregnant?”

“Yeah, I took three just to be sure and they all told me to go kill myself. So.”

“Oh my god…” she shudders. “Oh my god? Oh my…” and she chugs her glass of wine in one big gulp. It looks good.

“What are you going to do?” she asks you.

You shrug, your mind made up, “I’m keeping it.”

“What?”

“Okay, you need to quiet down now before we get kicked out of here.”

“What do you mean keeping it? As in, giving birth? As in, raising a child?”

“Yeah, exactly that.”

“O…kay…and the baby daddy?”

You shrug, “What about him?”

“I-“ she slams her hands down. “[y/n].”

“What?”

“You’re not gonna tell him?”

“Why would I? I have a house and a job and insurance and a 401K, I can take care of my kid.”

“Well, yeah…but it’s…his kid, too? Why-why are you keeping it if you’re not gonna tell him?”

“Because I want a baby. I don’t know. I-I thought about…getting it sucked out of there, but I don’t wanna. I want a baby. I want a kid. And yeah, this…isn’t the conventional way of doing that, but I never much saw myself with a husband anyway.”

“So…what’s the plan? Matthew’s just walking down the street one day and a little carbon copy of him comes out of the shadows saying ooh, aah, look at me! I’m the love child you unintentionally abandoned 10 years ago! That’s fucked.”

“What if he doesn’t care? What if he wants to abandon the kid? What if we’re on the same page?”

“Then at least give him the option.”

“Ugh.”

“[y/n], just give him the option. What? You can gargle his cock in your mouth but you can’t have a conversation? You need to tell him.”

“Okay…” you roll your eyes.

“And whatever the outcome, he stills owes you money. He stills owes some type of financial support, whether you want it or not.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Whatever. Look, I work with him when he’s in town, okay? I see him, I have to interact with him, I can’t hold on to this and I can’t be the one to tell him. [y/n]…please…”

“Okay!”

“Okay?”

You huff, “Okay. Fine.”

“Okay. You have his number?”

“No.”

“Classy,” she quips as she scrolls through her phone and you roll your eyes, “Okay, I’m airdropping it to you now.”

His contact comes through to your phone and you only stare at it long enough to accept and then you plant the device face down on the table. You suck back an anxious gulp of water and fidget with your hands, “This is your fault, you know?”

“What? How?”

“You’re the one that introduced us. At that launch party or whatever. What was that even about?”

“It was the launch party for a new production company and fuck you, you whore. I didn’t force you to go and get yourself knocked up. That was all you, Matthew and those free shots.”

“Oh, please, you practically threw us together.”

“Yeah, well, sue me, I thought you guys would hit it off,” she shrugs. “Not quite this much, but…”

The two of you sit in silence, looking around the restaurant, picking at your food.

“So,” she pips.

Your eyes flicker up at her.

“How was it?” she smirks. “Worth a baby?”

You let a long sigh, shaking your head with a very violent roll of your eyes, “Honestly…yeah…”

So far, pregnancy doesn’t suck. You’re still early, still not showing. There’s been no nausea or bloating. The insomnia, however, is getting ridiculous. You’re normally the type of girl to crash in bed as soon as possible, knocked out the moment your head hits the pillow. It is now midnight and your eyes are wide open, unable to relax. You check everything possible off of your to-do list, even scheduling your first obstetrician appointment. The only thing you haven’t done is call Matthew, having had his number sitting in your phone for close to a week now. To make it worse, all you want is a cinnamon roll. But not just any cinnamon roll. One from the late night bakery down the street. This is especially dangerous because you know very well that they are still open and somewhere out there is a cinnamon roll with your name on it. It would be nuts to leave the warmth of your bed right now, walk a mile in the dead of night, just for a cinnamon roll.

But you’re going to.

You bundle up and head out into the summer night, looking completely insane. Hoodie, sweats, tattered sneakers built for walking down the New York City sidewalks. It’s not far and you walk fast, faster than normal tonight because the craving is just that strong. You make it in all of ten minutes and within five more, you have the box cracked open and are tearing a piece off with your bare hands.

You look up for merely a second and your eyes catch him immediately. Now, you’re tired. Your blood sugar’s just shot up but you’re pretty sure it’s him. Posing for a picture with a fan. Tall. Beautiful. Smiling. His eyes land on you and he excuses himself, throws up a wave. You jump, looking around, contemplating running. But, yeah. That wouldn’t be suspicious at all. By the time you stop fidgeting, he’s standing over you and you’re trapped.

“Hi!” he greets you. “Hi, [y/n], how are you?”

You wipe frosting from your mouth and chuckle, more caught off guard by his remembering your name than anything. You cough, “Hi. Matthew, hi. I’m good. I’m doing good. How are you?”

“Good! Just heading home.”

“Oh! Oh, you have a place in New York?”

“Yeah, near the park, just a few blocks over. You live around here?”

“Uh…” you did not know this so you’re forcing your brain to catch up. “Uh, yeah, yeah. About a block over, just… couldn’t sleep. Wanted a cinnamon roll.”

“Looks good,” he giggles. “You look good.”

“Oh, you’re full of shit,” you smile.

“No! No, I mean it. You look great. I love the cinnamon roll run outfit. Honestly.”

You blush, you don’t mean to, but you blush. “Well, thank you. You look good, too.” He does. You can tell he’s just leaving somewhere because he’s dressed up and you suddenly remember very vividly how you ended up pregnant.

“Aw, thank you. I appreciate that…” his eyes scan over you. “Where did you say you live? Can I walk you home? It’s late.”

You want to shout No! Thank you! and run. It wouldn’t be hard to do. Why not? Still, you say, “Yes. Yeah, I’d like that.”

And so the two of you stroll down the empty sidewalks together, he does most of the talking. You can hear it in his voice that he’s flirting. You’ve heard it before. It has been successful, with you, before. Yet, you’re too busy this time around trying not to puke. He walks you to your door and you notice your cinnamon roll has gone cold in your hand.

“This is me,” you tell him. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he smiles. “We should get together again, if you’re up for it.”

You nod, “Mhm. Yeah. That sounds nice. Um, I’ll give you my number.” He instantly pulls his phone from his pocket and hands it over. He’s serious. You type your name and number in and hand it back, chewing on your bottom lip.

“Perfect,” his fingers linger on yours as he takes his phone back. “I’ll call you. Hey, could I use your bathroom? I pee fast so I won’t inconvenience you too long.”

No!

You snicker, “Yeah…” you start to unlock the door. “Of course. Sorry in advance, it’s a little messy.”

“Oh, a little mess doesn’t scare me,” he laughs.

You let him in and point out the bathroom and as soon as he disappears, closes the door behind him, you release the breath that’s been trapped in your chest and plop down on the couch. “Fuck,” you mutter to yourself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The toilet flushes and then there’s a loud bang from the bathroom and you snap back to reality. “Matthew?” you call. “You alright in there?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he calls in response. “Just kicked over your trash can. Sorry!”

“That’s okay!” you reply. You relax.

It is definitely not okay.

You hop up and sprint to the bathroom door. You don’t even knock, you just burst into the bathroom where Matthew is picking up the spilled trash. Your eyes instantly land on the pregnancy tests and you can’t do anything but stand in wait.

When he notices them, he laughs. Not a cackle, but a soft giggle, almost silly, “You pregnant or something?” he asks. It’s a joke. He’s making a joke.

He looks at your face. It’s not a joke.

He stops laughing. He stops smiling. You’ve never seen someone’s entire being go so pale.

“Oh, you’re…” he stutters. “You’re…” he breathes. “Is it mine?”

You can hardly look him in the eye but you do and you nod.

“How long have you known?”

You gulp, “Like…a week. I haven’t been to the doctor or anything.”

“Are you…” you can see his chest heaving. “Are you serious?”

You nod, “Yes.”

He looks around the bathroom, wobbling on his heels and you worry he’s going to pass out. Instead, he slams the toilet seat down and sits on it, falls on it. “What…what are you going to do?”

“I’m…” you clear your throat. “Keeping it.”

“Oh.” he says. “You don’t...you’re not…”

“No. I don’t want that.”

And this is where his words became jumbled. Mumbled. Barely incoherent. He, himself, cannot even figure out what he’s trying to say.

“Look,” you interrupt him. “You don’t have to be involved, okay? You don’t even need to be on the birth certificate. I can handle this. I will handle this. If you wanna drop me a couple hundreds bucks every month and call it a day, that’s fine. If you don’t? Also fine. But I need to know because we’re…not…confusing this kid, okay? So, you need to be all in or all out.”

“Are you...” he cuts his eyes up at you and then promptly rises to his feet. “I can’t do this right now.”

You’re so dumbfounded as he rushes past you that your brain doesn’t even fully process it until he’s almost out the door. “Where are you going?”

“I have to clear my head. I-I have to get out of here.”

“Uh, okay...” he closes the door in your face. “Bye…”

And in the wake of all this exciting, suddenly surrounded by silence and cut tension, you remember your cinnamon roll. You want it after all.

When your friend asks if you’ve told Matthew, you say, “Yes.”

“Oh, shit. You called him?”

“No.” And you have to explain. You have to explain every awkward, uncomfortable, terrible second.

“And I haven’t heard from him since,” you shrug.

“Really?”

You nod.

She sighs, “Wow…fuck him.”

“Fuck him.”

And you meant that. You’re content with that. You feel like you can move on. Prepare, nest, move forward. Then he calls you. Out of nowhere. His name pops up on your phone and silences the music that had been playing while you took a bath. You stare at the screen for a long time, wondering if it’s best to protect your peace. It is. But still, you answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, [y/n]?” he clears his throat. “It’s Matthew.”

“Matthew,” you sigh. “Hi.”

“Hey, um, when is your first doctor’s appointment? Has that passed already?”

“Um…” you furrow your eyebrows, genuinely confused. “No. It’s on the twenty-sixth. At Aster on the upper west side. Eleven o’clock.”

Silence.

Then, he says, “Okay…okay, I’ll be there.”

You shrug, “Okay.”

“Okay.”

You arrive at 10:45. You do not expect him to show up, like truly expect him to show up. So when he comes walking into the waiting room, your heart genuinely stops. You cross and uncross your legs, shuffling in your seat.

“Hi,” you whisper, with very minimal eye contact.

“Hi.”

The nurse calls your name and Matthew follows you into the examination room, taking a seat beside you. The technician asks you a series of questions about your last period, your symptoms, your health history and Matthew hears none of it.

“And are you dad?” she asks him.

He feels like he’s going to throw up. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

You roll your eyes and luckily, this kind woman cuts the tension pretty quickly. She slathers this cold gel on your belly and presses the wand to your skin and the heartbeat picks up immediately.

“Oh, wow, strong heartbeat already!” she grins at you. But you can’t take your eyes off the monitor. Matthew either. “You’re right around ten weeks so there’s the little head and you can see their arms and legs starting to form here.”

You can. You can really see it. There’s a baby in there. Barely. But a baby! You look at Matthew and his look of pure terror mirrors yours. It’s kind of comforting.

The nurse wipes you off and says, “So your estimated due date is March 10th, but again, that’s just an estimate so take it with a grain of salt because babies tend to follow their own schedule. You’re looking at anywhere from two to three days before or after.”

“Holy shit,” Matthew swears. “That’s the day after my birthday.”

“Is it really?” you tilt your head and at this, the nurse is dumbfounded. At this, Matthew is completely silenced.

You ask for two separate copies of the ultrasound and the technician has gotten over the shock. She’s not going to question it anymore, not going to give it any thought. Let you two sort it out.

As you stand outside afterwards, twiddling your thumbs, unsure of what to say or what to do, he asks, “Are you hungry? Can I take you to lunch?”

You cross your arms, wanting to say no. Wanting to lie. Instead you sigh, “Yes,” you nod. “Yes, please. I’m fucking starving.”

So he takes you to a cafe down the street where you order possibly the biggest burger even seen and fries and a cup of veggies and a piece of cake. It’s awkward, silent, and he just watches you eat. Almost like he can’t wrapped his head around it. You come up for air and catch his gaze.

“Hey,” you swallow. “Don’t look at me crazy. You’ve never had something in your body competing for resources.”

He chuckles, “No judgement. Eat what you want.”

“That was my plan.”

He picks at his food for a few moments and then sighs, “So…how…how are we gonna do this?”

You would ask for more context but you don’t need it. You know exactly what he means. You shrug, “I don’t know…” you shrug again. “I don’t know, just…do the best we can, I guess?”

He nods, “Yeah. Yeah, that always seems to work for everyone else.”

September | 14 Weeks

The deal is that Matthew will come in every four weeks for your appointments. This is what he agrees to, but you’re not convinced it will happen. But your next appointment rolls around and you’re shocked to walk in and find he’s beat you there. This time, he sees you and he smiles. His eyes scan over your figure as you take a seat, he goes, “Oh, you’re…you’re kinda starting to…”

You glance down at your tiny baby bump and you have this weird urge all the time to touch it so you do. “Oh. Yeah. I finally had to start telling people at work. They made me a registry.”

“Oh, that’s nice. What…what do you need me to get? What does a baby need?”

“God, dude, too much shit, I swear. Plus, I don’t even know what I want to dress her in. There’s like a million different brands and they all look the same or are made from spider silk or something stupid. I don’t know.”

He tilts his head at you, “Her? You think it’s a girl?”

You shrug, “I don’t know. I don’t think we can find out just yet anyway but, maybe?”

This little grin appears on his face and he almost reaches in to your bump, but he doesn’t. He shuffles in his seat, clears his throat, “A girl would be nice.”

You smile, “I think so, too.”

You both get your updated ultrasounds to go and the technician is greatful to not feel so suffocated this time. The energy around the two of you has shifted. Not much. You’re still strangers and it shows. But it’s different. You smile, you joke around, Matthew speaks up, asks questions.

It’s different.

At the end of the appointment, he asks you, “Hey, are you busy tonight?”

“Oh…” you’re caught off guard. “No. Why?”

“I was wondering if you might want to come over? For dinner maybe?”

“Oh.”

“Nothing…weird. I just…want you to know where I live and…I don’t know, I thought we could just talk.”

“Um. Okay. Okay. Send me your address.”

“Okay. I will.”

And so because you reluctantly agreed, you show up at his doorstep at six o’clock sharp. You’re not dressed up or anything, but it’s starting to get cold and you just threw on this big puffy jacket.

He opens the door and greets you with a bright smile, saying, “Hey, you. Come in.”

“Thanks,” you meekly walk in and instantly look around his place and oh, it’s fucking gorgeous. Comforting. Because you can’t have a baby with someone who lacks interior design skills.

“Are you still craving chinese? I got us a fuck ton.”

“Oh, my god,” you sigh in relief, smelling the food, instantly plopping down at the kitchen table. “Oh, my god, yes, thank you.”

“Of course,” he smiles.

You look around and notice the ultrasounds on his fridge, staring at them as he sets up a plate for you.

He takes a seat beside you and takes a bite of his food, then asking, “So, where are you from?”

It catches you off guard so you laugh, “What?”

“Where are you from? What’s your family like? Where’d you go to school?”

“Um, okay…what…you interrogating me?”

He laughs, “No. No, sorry. I just…uh, I wanna get to know you better, that’s all. You can ask me anything you wanna know, too.”

“Hm,” you nod. “Okay.” And you spill your guts.

You wrap your life up in a nutshell and it becomes this rapid game of back and forth about whose parents did this and how many siblings do you have and who was your first crush. Who’s your best friend. Who’s the last person you dated. Tell me about all the people you’ve dated!

Your baby daddy is kind of a slut, but, honestly, who are you to judge?

He’s funny. As far as you can tell, he’s honest. He doesn’t have or want to hide anything from you. What’s the point?

“So, um,” he says. “Why don’t I make you a drink and give you a little tour? Oh, wait, you…”

“Can’t drink,” you nod. “Yeah. Thanks for reminding me.”

“Sorry,” he laughs. “I have sparkling cider.”

“Bleh.”

“Sparkling water?”

“Bleh.”

“I…orange juice?” he laughs but you’re dead serious.

“That sounds so fucking good right now.”

“Yeah?” he chuckles. “Okay, you got it.”

And so, with your cup of orange juice, you follow him around his home. You see his bedroom, his office, and in the corner of the house, an empty room where he proclaims, “This will be the little guy’s room. I’m not sure what I’m gonna do with it yet, but definitely something.”

It’s beautiful. Lots of natural light but he says he’s already started looking at blackout curtains. “And then in my room,” he adds as you walk by. “I’ll have one of those little beside bassinet things, y’know? Just until he gets a little bigger.”

You look up at him with this sober look. You stumble around until you find somewhere to put your glass down and he asks, “You alright?”

You turn back to him and almost immediately jump into his arms, mouth open, a whole growing human between the of you, but still you are close. But still, you are kissing.

“Woah…” he huffs. “W-what…what are you…”

“Sorry,” you breathe out. “It’s nothing personal. I’ve just got a lot of blood rushing to a lot of different places and w-what?” you stutter because he’s caressing your face. “Y’know, it’s not like you can get me pregnant. It’s more like a…a favor?”

His eyes scan over your face and he nods, scoops you up in his arms like it’s nothing. “Yeah, okay, that makes sense,” and he carries you into his bedroom.

October | 18 Weeks

The greeting this week is different. In the past few weeks, there’s been a lot more casual texting. A lot of Matthew asking: Hey, how are you feeling today? Do you need anything? Do you have groceries? You appreciate it.

He walks into the waiting room a few minutes after you and you actually stand to say hi.

“Hi, you!” he pips and he gives you a big hug. This time, he is not so shy and he takes a hold of your bump in both his hands, leaning down to say, “Hi, you! What are you doing in there? Woah!”

“Ah,” you groan. “Yeah, kicking the shit out of me. lately. Don’t get her riled up.”

But he pokes at your belly again and those legs come back swinging. He laughs, “Oh, my god, that’s so cool!”

“Yeah, not so much when it’s the middle of the night and it’s directly on your bladder.”

“Oof. Sorry, I should be stern,” he leans down. “Knock it off, kid.” And the kid kicks back.

“Oh! Jesus. Okay, that was…bad. Keep practicing.”

He cackles, “I will.”

In the exam room, the technician asks, “Do you wanna know the gender?” The smile on her face tells you that she already knows.

And as you shout an enthusiastic, “Yes!” Matthew is shaking his head, saying, “No.”

And then there’s silence.

“What…” you chuckle. “What do you mean no?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I kinda just wanna be surprised.”

“Hm…” you furrow your eyebrows. You turn to the technician, “Well, I wanna know, will you put it in an envelope for me?”

This envelope is hand delivered to you at the end of your appointment and you hold it tight in your hands all the way out the door. You tear into it as soon as you step outside and Matthew shouts, “Wait!”

“What?”

“I don’t wanna know! Open it when you’re alone.”

“Okay…” you shrug, putting the envelope in your purse.

The two of you stand there, silent, avoiding eye contact.

“Fine, open it,” he says.

“What?” you laugh. “I thought you didn’t wanna know?”

“I don’t! I don’t. But-but you should know. Open it.”

You roll your eyes at him and take the envelope out of your bag, breaking the seal, flipping it open and showing absolutely no emotion. You rise and fall from the tip of your toes, biting down on your lip.

“Oh, c’mon!” he groans. “What is it? What is it? What is it? Just tell me.��

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“You positive?”

“[y/n]…” he whines.

You chuckle and turn the paper around to face him and his entire expression goes blank.

“A boy?” he whispers. Followed by, “Oh, my god, a boy!” Then, “A boy?” Finally, “A boy…”

You giggle and nod, “A boy.”

Halloween falls on a work day, after which you immediately come home to take a nap. You awake to find missed calls and texts from Matthew, the last of which reads: I’m coming over. You see this just before he rings your doorbell.

You answer and flinch, caught off guard by his costume. His makeup, the whole thing. “Oh…” you say. “You did say you were weird about Halloween.”

“Um, I don’t know if weird is the word I used but…here! For you,” he hands you a bag full of candy and you laugh, taking it from him.

“Thank you.”

“And…also, for you,” and he hands you a pumpkin.

“Oh! Thanks?”

“It’s the exact same weight as the baby. Weighed it myself.”

And your heart just kind of melts. “Aw…that’s so cute…” you hold the thing in your hands and look down at it. “Wow, what? No fucking way that’s in there.” you say in disbelief, holding the pumpkin level with your belly.

The two of you burst into laughter and Matthew sighs, happily exclaming, “Yeah, that’s him.”

November | 22 Weeks

Before your next appointment, Matthew calls you to ask if you’ll spend Thanksgiving with him in Vegas.

“Y’know, I told my family and-and they were…y’know shocked. But, they wanna meet you. I’m sure you already have plans but if you don’t…I’d really love it if you came with me.”

You sit in silence for a second. “I…I don’t have plans. I’ll go.”

“Really?”

“Oh, did you…want me to say no?”

“No,” he laughs. “No. I just thought you would. Um, well, okay, cool! Cool. I’ll book the flight.”

“Okay. Cool.”

Matthew meets you at your place the day before Thanksgiving, greeting you with a hug and a kiss on your belly. “Hey, you ready?”

“Yeah…” you grumble. “I’m all packed, just tired.”

“Want me to carry you?”

“Ha…ha…no, thanks.”

“I’m so dead serious. I’ve been lifting weights, gotta train to carry a baby around.”

“I’m telling you, this fucker is heavy.”

He laughs, “Yeah, he looks it already. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Um…” you sigh. “Can you just carry my bags?”

“[y/n].” He looks you in the eye. “I was going to do that anyway.”

You get sick on the plane and the flight attendant gives you ice to chew and a cold rag for your forehead. Matthew is constantly rubbing your leg and fanning you with the safety booklet.

“Ugh, I’m so sorry. What can I do?” he asks.

“Will you be the pregnant one for a little bit?”

“Yes, if that’s what you need.”

His face is serious and you can’t help but laugh, “Fuck you.”

As you drive through the desert, you have to keep your eyes closed to feel peace. You only open them when the car slows down and you arrive at the house.

“Oh, by the way,” Matthew says as he shuts the car off. “My family thinks we’re together. Like dating.”

Your eyes goes wide and you shoot up in your seat, “What? What?” you yell.

“Look, look, I’m sorry! I didn’t know what else to say!”

“Uh, how about I got a little too drunk and horny on a Friday night and put a baby in someone? You don’t lie! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I…ugh! I’m sorry. I know, I know. I will tell them the truth, but not right now. [y/n], please.”

“No.”

“[y/n]…”

“No. Fuck you! How could you wait until we get here to tell me that bullshit? You’re insane!”

“Okay. Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry, let’s just, please go inside and I will fix it.”

“No.”

“What?”

“I don’t wanna go inside now. You pissed me off.”

“Oh, my…” he huffs. “[y/n], please.”

“No!” you cross your arms. “I’m staying in the car.”

Just then, his mom comes rushing out the house, waving to you both from the front door and you have to put on a smile very quickly.

“I will tell them,” he whispers.

“Oh, you fucking better,” you sneer, still smiling. “Or I will.”

You play along as you’re introduced to everyone. You tell them about yourself. You show them the most recent ultrasound, you pig out on all the food just laying around and somehow, along the way, you forget why you were mad.

Until you retire to bed and they have you and Matthew set up in one room. Then, you are pissed all, over, again.

You rush into the shower to avoid him and when you come back out, he’s laying in the bed.

“Hi,” he smiles nervously.

“Fuck you.”

“Okay.”

“Did you tell them?”

“No. I’m sorry. I will.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Matthew.”

“[y/n]-“

“Matthew!”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll tell them now.”

“Yeah.”

Still, he lays there. “I…I pulled out your maternity pillow. All ready for you.”

“Get out the damn bed,” you grumble and he’s up before you lay down. And worse, he just stands there.

You roll over from your side, looking at him. He’s looking at you and his face pisses you off so you shout, “Matthew!”

“Okay!” and he leaves the room.

He comes back in after you’ve fallen asleep but still, half awake, you ask, “Did you tell them?” and you don’t even question it when he lays beside you, cradles you in his arms.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Good.”

And you fall asleep just like that.

Thanksgiving goes well, despite the recent news. You practically clear the table yourself because you’re eating for two and one of you is much greedier than the other. You meet Matthew’s dad, who spends the entire evening lulling you into security just to later pull the two of you into a separate room.

Here, the conversation gets legal. And while you were not expecting it, you’re grateful. You hadn’t thought of any of this. Custody, exchange schedules, schools, primary addresses, out-of-state trips. All of it.

His dad finally asks, “And what last name will the baby be taking?”

You say, “[y/l/n],” as Matthew says, “Oh, Gubler, for sure.” And the two of you just slowly turn to look at each other.

“Oh…” he dad says. “You two should probably discuss.”

That discussion lasts well into the night. Through the drive to the airport. Through the flight.

By the time you land, you’ve compromised. You’ll hyphenate.

December | 26 Weeks

Your next appointment is just over a week before Christmas. Matthew agrees then to spend Christmas Eve with you. Your family comes into New York just to keep you from flying yourself. When they arrive, your home is cluttered with boxes and pieces of the crib and a dismantled bassinet and bottles and boxes of diapers and wipes. Your baby shower was a huge success. You and baby boy want for nothing. But you’re big, you’re stressed, you’re aching and you can’t stop crying.

“Baby, let us put the nursery together for you,” you mom suggests.

“No. No, we’ll do it. It’s fine. I want to do it.”

“Okay. Speaking of, is your baby daddy gonna be here any time soon?”

“Yeah, he’s on the way.”

And as if on queue, Matthew walks in and everyone exclaims, “Hey! Baby daddy!”

Your sibling walks up to him immediately and says, “Love Criminal Minds, dude,” and you put your face in your hands.

Matthew gets everything stuffed into the nursery just for now so there’s more space for everyone to move around. He helps your mom with dinner and he doesn’t mind when they poke and prode into his life.

“So, baby daddy, what part of New York are you in?”

“So, baby daddy, is this your first kid?”

“So, baby daddy, do you think you might propose to [y/n] someday?”

“Baby daddy, what’s your net worth?”

And this is not an exaggeration. By the end of the night, he responds to baby daddy like it’s his actual government name and he confesses to you that it makes him uncomfortable.

Standing on your balcony, he wraps a blanket around you and rubs your shoulders, “Y’know, I understand the terminology, definitely. But…damn.”

You cackle, “Well..you are my baby daddy. We’re having a baby together, but were not together, but we have sex sometimes. It fits. Hey, I’m your baby mama!”

“Aw, well…” he sighs. “Thats sweet.” And he grins at you as you burst into laughter.

Your family leaves to stay at a hotel and Matthew stays to make sure you’re okay. You’re pretty fucking exhausted to be honest. So he tucks you into bed and runs his hand over your hair, “You need anything?”

“No. Just sleep.”

“Okay,” he touches your belly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

When you wake up in the morning, your first thought is that you need to eat. You remember some sugar cookies that your mom had brought by last night and you decide to have them for breakfast. You walk to the kitchen and passing by the nursery, you almost don’t notice. Then, you stop in your tracks, tilt your head and walk backwards.

It’s done.

It’s done!

The crib is built, the dresser and changing table are assembled, the mobile’s up and running, the rocking chair is in the corner. Even the wall art you picked out is hanging up.

“Wh-what…” you stutter and then you march to the living room where Matthew is passed out on the couch. “Matthew!” you shout. Still, he doesn’t wake. So you rush over and shake him, going, “Matthew! Matthew!” and he jolts awake.

“What?” he takes hold of your hands. “What? Are you okay? Are you alright?”

“Yes. What…what the hell did you do?”

“What do you mean?” he rasps. “Oh…the nursery? Do you like it?”

“Do I…” you cut yourself off and run back to the nursery, where you wander around the room unable to focus your attention on just one thing.

Matthew follows behind you and watches you from the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. “Well?”

“It’s…” you gleam. “Exactly like my pinterest board.”

“Of course it’s exactly like your pinterest board, I’m not insane!” he laughs.

You feel this peace wash over you and you hug your baby bump as you breathe out a slow exhale. You turn to him with a smile and he thinks you’re running to give him a hug. So when you all but tackle him, take him a kiss, push him to the floor, tear off his clothes, it all happens so fast.

When it’s over, you have no bottoms on and your head is laying on his chest. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I should probably stop attacking you like that.”

He chuckles, “No. Don’t. I don’t mind.”

January | 30 Weeks

Your appointments are every two weeks now. This is the time you expected Matthew to miss at least one, but he never does. He’s always there. Even when he’s not with you, he’s always there.

When your insomnia is at its very worst, he facetimes you in the middle of the night.

“Hey,” he smiles at the screen. “I knew you’d be up.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Insomnia still kicking your ass?”

“Every night this past week.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry, honey,” he frowns. “But since you’re up, I thought we could talk baby names?”

“Oh,” you say. You had forgotten about that. “Oh…right…names.”

“I know, we kinda dropped the ball on that one,” he laughs. “Now, it’s kinda a Gubler tradition that all the boys have the middle name Gray. Y’know, alliteration and all.”

“Oh..that’s…” Boring, you think. “Unoriginal. Can we compromise?”

“Well, I’m already compromising with the hypenating so I don’t know.”

“Oh, good g-“ you roll your eyes. “Sir, you hyphenated like 7 months ago, let it go.” And he lets it go. You add, “I like the name Lincoln. Link.”

“Ooh, no. He used to bully me in school. What about Silas?”

“Yeah, cause he’s a vampire? Veto. I like Noah.”

“Cause he’s building an arc? Veto!”

“Ugh.”

“What about Simon? Y’know I voiced him in the movie.”

You roll your eyes, again. “Yes. We know. Veto.”

Silence falls over the call as you both rack your brains for another suggestion. And like a domino, it naturally falls into your mind, “Theodore?” you shrug.

Matthew smiles, “Teddy?”

“Aw!” you squeal. “Teddy Gray…” you say aloud and then a tear falls from your eye and then you’re full blown sobbing in front of the camera. “Teddy Gray, that’s it. That’s his name.”

And Matthew is freaked out because he’s never seen you cry before. Ever. Not at the doctor, not in the nursery, he’s never had the pleasure of meeting your hormones face to face quite like this. “Yeah…” he chokes out a sob. “That’s it,” he wipes his eyes. “Fuck, why am I crying?”

“Oh, why would you be, you fucking freak?” you shout and he thinks it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever said.

Suddenly, your doorbell rings and it silences you, scares you. “What the fuck?” you whisper. “Is that you?”

“Nope. I had something delivered.”

“What? Right now?”

“Just a little cinnamon roll and a milkshake, but I can tell them to leave if you don’t want it?”

“Oh, my god,” you rush out of bed and immediately waddle to the door, “You’re amazing. I wanna have your baby.”

February | 34 Weeks

Your customized pillows and blankets have come in the mail. They all say Teddy and his baby book says it too. It is perfect. It’s your son. At your last appointment, he weighed about 7 pounds and you certainly feel every ounce weighing you down.

But for Teddy, it’s worth it.

For now, you’re still going to work and taking an afternoon nap for survival. Matthew jokes all the time that you can quit your job whenever you’d like. That he can take care of you both, just say the word. That was never the deal, but you appreciate it.

When you arrive home on Valentine’s Day, you’re just getting settled when your doorbell rings. You look through the peep hole and the delivery man is holding the largest vase of roses you’ve ever seen.

“Hi,” he greets you. “[y/n] [y/l/n]?”

“Yes,” you nod and take the roses in your arms. “Thank you.”

He hands you a tiny bag and you carry everything inside, setting them down on the table.

“One more thing,” he tells you and when you turn around, it is a teeny, tiny vase of snipped roses. The vase is personalized with the name Teddy.

“Aw,” you want to cry but you can’t do it in front of this random man. So only when he leaves, you let the tears fall and you set Teddy’s vase near in the window in his room. You leave your flowers on the living room table and take a small jewelry box out of the bag. Inside, are the most gorgeous pair of ruby pendant earrings and you audibly gasp.

The card accompanying it all reads: Sorry I can’t be with you and Teddy today, but I’m thinking about you both. I’m always thinking about you.

Happy Valentine’s Day, baby mama!!

M

March | 37 Weeks

“Any day now, [y/n],” your doctor beams, rolling the wand around on your belly. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” you nod. “Excited. Scared. I didn’t give it much thought about how I was gonna get him out of there.”

Her and Matthew laugh, Matthew holding your hand like it’s No Big Deal.

“You’re gonna do great. You’re right on track for your due date, but it’s possible you’ll start feeling some contractions in the next week or two. If you notice them coming really close together or your water breaks, I want you to put that birthing plan in motion, okay?”

“Okay,” you and Matthew say in unison. It would’ve annoyed you before. Now you just smile at him because you think it’s cute.

Matthew escorts you back home and he’s hoping you’ll settle in and maybe rest. You don’t. You end up in the nursery, walking around like maniac. There is absolutely nothing to do. Nothing to move. Nothing to fix. Still, your brain tells you there must be something.

“Honey, honey,” he calls, taking you by the hand and guiding you to the couch. “Come lay down, please. Everything is all set.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he laughs. “You’re just nesting, I read about it online.”

“Oh, you and your baby google.”

“There really is so much out there!”

You roll your eyes, smiling as he covers you with a blanket. “You still going to Vegas this weekend? For your birthday?”

“Oh, no. No, I think I’m just gonna stay in New York.”

“What? Why? I thought your mom was planning a whole thing for you? You can’t miss it.”

“Well, I don’t wanna miss Teddy coming either. I don’t wanna leave you alone like that. The doctor said any day now.”

“Yeah, but, she also said it could be well over another week before I start contracting.”

He sighs, visibly anxious.

“Hey, look,” you pull him into your arms. “I appreciate you wanting to be here, I really do, but I want you to enjoy your birthday and I highly, highly doubt this kid is planning on escaping any time soon. Plus, my friend will be here if anything happens so, just, go, baby daddy, we’ll be fine.”

He sighs, “Fine. But you’ll call me if anything happens?”

“I will call you.”

“Immediately?”

“Immediately!”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

March 9 | 37 Weeks and 6 Days

The eve of Matthew’s birthday, you get roughly four hours of sleep. You rise with the sun and sit in Teddy’s room, folding his clothes, piling them in his dresser.

You friend wanders in, having just woken up herself and she sighs, “What the hell are you doing, crazy lady?”

“Nothing.”

“This nursery looks like it’s straight out of Architectural Digest. There’s nothing else to do, why don’t you go lay down?”

“Why is everyone always wanting me to lay down?”

“Because you’re carrying a human maybe? Duh?”

“I’m fine. I feel fine. I need to check on the bottles and make sure I have the right sized nipples because I’m not sure…”

“[y/n], you have all the nipples in the world. The ones, the twos, the threes, the ones on your tits. It’s fine!”

“I’m just checking!” And as you step towards the kitchen, you suddenly stop in your tracks, grab onto your crotch in shock.

“[y/n]?” you friend rushes to your side. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I…I, um, I think I just pissed myself?”

“Wh-what? Pissed yourself or did your water break?”

You look up at her in fear, “Oh my god.”

“I’ll get the hospital bag.”

“Oh my god.”

“Get some pants and shoes on, dude!”

“Oh my god,” you repeat. “I-I have to call Matthew.”

So you do. You do. Just in the knick of fucking time, your name pops up on his phone and he quickly grabs his luggage and sprints off the plane that was doomed to take off any second.

When he arrives at the hospital, he bursts into the room at full speed, thinking he’s already missed everything. Thinking it’s over. He finds you bouncing on a birthing ball and you grin at him.

“Hi, baby daddy!” you huff. “Happy birthday!”

“Hi! Hi…” he walks up to you, takes your hands in his although you do not stop bouncing. He kisses the top of your head, “Are you okay? How far along are you?”

“Three centimeters,” you pant. “And I am not getting off of this ball until it’s 10!”

“Okay, well, you have to take a break at some point. Do you need some water?”

“Nope! Just need to bounce.”

You last, maybe, five more minutes and then you need to lay down. Except you can’t. Because your contractions are ridiculous and you can never get comfortable and you end up on all fours in the bed, crying and groaning.

And three hours later, you are only 5 centimeters dilated.

Matthew lays in the bed beside you, patting your face with a rag, feeling absolutely useless. “What can I do, [y/n]? Tell me what to do.”

You cry and squeeze his hand until this contraction passes. You pant, “Y-y’know…I’ve heard sometimes…when a baby won’t come out…p-people….sometimes…”

“What? What do they do?”

“They…y’know…”

He is still confused.

“Like!” you shout in frustration. “Like, what gets the baby in also gets the baby out!”

It clicks, “Oh!” he exclaims. “Oh. Will that…will that hurt him?”

“I don’t think so,” you shake your head. “But he’ll sure as shit get the message.”

And so, two fingers, ten minutes and six big pushes later, Theodore Gray [y/l/n]-Gubler is born. He weighs eight pounds, five ounces but he feels so heavy in your arms.

Finally in your arms.

Matthew, like a big baby himself, can’t stop crying. Can’t stop looking at him. Can’t stop kissing your face, “Look at him! He’s beautiful! You did it! Oh, my god, [y/n]! Look what you did!”

Teddy is truly the best birthday gift Matthew has ever gotten.

Two days later, you’re discharged from the hospital. Matthew arranged for a car to drive you home and he installs the car seat himself. He pushes you out in a wheelchair, despite your frequent protests, and gets Teddy buckled in. He then helps you and into the car before sliding in on the opposite side of the car seat.

You cover Teddy with his blanket and touch your fingertips to his face. He’s fast asleep, but this little grin forms on his face and the two of you chuckle.

“Hey,” you coo to him. “Hey, mister man, what are you doing? Huh? You…really don’t look a thing like me.”

Matthew cackles, “Yeah. Yeah, that seems to be the general consensus.”

He follows behind you with the car seat as you unlock your front door and lead them inside.

“Should we…I mean, do we just let him sleep?” he asks you.

“Until he’s hungry, yeah,” you nod, taking Teddy from his carrier. “Oh, hi…” you whisper to him. “Hi, mister man, you wanna lay in your bed? Hm?”

You place him in his crib and he doesn’t make a sound. Doesn’t make a move. Matthew plops down on the floor, legs crisscrossed and you sit right beside him.

“He’s so fucking cool,” he tells you.

You giggle, “The coolest.”

The two of you could stare at him all day. You will.

“Is it still okay if spend the night?” he asks.

You look up at him with a smile, “Yes, we’d like that very much,” and you put your head on his shoulder.

His kisses your forehead softly, saying, “Cool.”

[brights-place]

I noticed how you did miles (1610) with a sister but what ab 42?? Also if you do this can you add uncle Aaron hc too???

42! Miles Morales & Lil Sister! Reader

Pairings: Miles & Lil Sister! Reader

Warnings: Fluff

A/N: I'd say the same rules reply from the head-cannons for 1610 miles but also with this one!! if you want to see it I'll put it here 1610! Miles & Lil sis!, 42! miles & lil sis (your here!)

- You and Miles as siblings are Chaotic like REALLY! fucking chaotic I mean one moment you two would be loving siblings next when mama rio turns her back your brawling with your brother who is 3 years older then you - You surprisingly won and you would cheer but Miles would let you because you were his younger sister - In this universe you are trying to learn spanish but Miles who is older KNOWS spanish so would laugh and mock you - Miles would chuck you around the house as you shout You and Miles do rock paper scissors to see who does chores like others - Miles is a Mama's boy and your a Papa's Girl well you WERE a papa's girl... - after what happened with Jeff you and your mother struggled along with miles because in this nasty ass crime ridden town you were all you three had left and Uncle Aaron - Uncle Aaron and Miles grew close though taking a vow to protect not only to Rio but also YOU - Uncle Aaron would give money to Rio to help her out and for you he would sit down ask you how your doing and you'd say fine - too be honest Uncle Aaron and Miles knew that you were an expressive person very animated when talking but after Jeff is death you bawled your eyes out with your Mother - You lost your father and your mother lost her husband HOW FUN!! FAMILY TRAUMAAAAA - When you were learning still he would flex how he was able to speak fluent spanish to piss you off as you shout at him to stop speaking in spells - He stares you down when he see's you steal his clothes because you claim you wear it better then him "Hey big bro can I borrow this?" "No" "WHY!" "BECAUSE YOU ALWAYS WEAR AND STEAL MY SHIT!" "NUH UH!" "YUH HUH! YOU SEE ME WEARING YOUR CLOTHES!" "NUH UH CAUSE YOU CAN'T WEAR GOOD SHIT!" - Mama rio came in with her sandal and chucked it at you too shouting "¡TRANQUILIZARSE! ¡Estoy intentando chismorrear con la tía!" (CALM DOWN! I'm trying to gossip with Auntie!) - You both break into eachothers rooms just to piss the other off - You were once on your laptop talking to friends on call but he broke into your room and entered laying on your bed as you side eyed his ass before he literally SLAMS YOUR LAPTOP SHUT !! and runs out of the room as you chase after him - Another time was when he is drawing or building something for his prowler duties and you enter his room eating something or sipping a drink as he pauses what he's doing staring at you as he turned to look at his work and back to you once more to see you slowly closing the door before swinging it open quickly and running away as miles shouted you to close it properly chasing after you - He can hear that gremlin cackle that he finds so annoying - You want to be an amazing artist like him cause you find him amazing but you never say it to him

- Miles was going to put on his prowler costume and you told him how he looked like an edge lord and good luck on comic-con but thing is - You respect him and want to be like him an amazing artist and get to a amazing school just like him! He pretends he doesn't see you trying your hardest - When he became the prowler he tried to hide it from everyone especially you and your mother :<< - Him and Uncle Aaron work hard for you and mama morales aka RIO - When he goes out on nights as the prowler he always makes sure to check if you're asleep or distracted - Sometimes when he comes back after doing all that he'd check up on you and if your not asleep he'd walk in and force his lovey little sister to sleep even though you have beef with him "I'm going to finish this last game" "no go to bed" "but-" "get your ass in bed" - When stressed he makes you braid his hair as a way bonding time together sometimes you ask to try hairstyles on him and he'd deny but then he's having his little sister show no remorse yanking his hair and braiding it - When Miles and Aaron sometimes leave out of nowhere you ask them to come back with food because well FOOD - You'd notice him and Uncle Aaron speaking to each other sometimes privately as you look at them but Uncle Aaron would close the door - Uncle Aaron would take you and Miles out to eat sometimes when Rio wasn't home and working late shifts - You would chat away eating ice-cream happily as Uncle Aaron would listen to you ramble about your Interests and how fun you've been having with friends even in this shitty city you were a glowing gem - sometimes you are in your room staring at the crime ridden city scared for you and your family and miles would come over and hug you as the amazing older brother you are - BLASTING YOUR FAVOURITE SONGSSS - Sometimes arguing over who gets to have the speaker as you guys drive around the city to get food - Always being high on Alert around you. Miles takes care of you he is your brother he doesn't wanna see his sister or his mother hurt - he wants to keep his family safe as his younger sister he protects you and as prowler with the help of Uncle Aaron he makes sure you and your mother never get hurt.

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

[ribbonprincess]

hi love, please ignore if you don’t like this request! After seeing drew and Liliana I was thinking about nanny/ babysitter x drew in Charleston. I would prefer smut but ignore if your not comfortable with it 💕

note: this has been sitting in my inbox for sooo long,I'm so sorry I just couldn't find inspo for it. Also got lost in it and made it super long. Reader has a tongue piercing

🪐࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

you're sitting with Drew on the patio outside the house,his sister Mackeyla went out with her husband for the day, so she left Liliana with you and Drew. You met through mutual friends that you both don't talk to anymore and since you like babies she asks to babysit Lili sometimes; so now you find yourself next to her brother who you may have a crush on.

"Keyla didn't tell me you were over today ya know, thought it was gonna be only me and Lili" "yeah...I thought the same actually" you chuckle,looking over at him as you eye each other with a knowing smile "she set us up!" It comes out at the same moment making you both laugh as the realization hits "I can't believe her" you shake your head at the thought,using your palm as a headrest. "well,guess we should make the most out of it then" Drew says, eyeing your sundress clad body,it was nothing crazy since you were looking after a 8 months old baby but it had incredibly hot in South Carolina so it was the best option if you didn't want to melt.

"Like what?" your eyebrows are furrowed as you smile softly at him "don't know...I would love getting to know you better,Keyla has said great things about you" "oh- did she? I hope so.." His body is slowly shifting closer to you,making the two-seater swing move slightly. "I like your perfume" he says,running a fingertip over the skin of your forearm "thank you" your answer comes out way breathier than you intend to but the feeling of his touch is way too affecting. His hand is slowly moving over your face,running over your shoulder and the curve of your neck where he stops for a second before he cups your cheek with a gentle smile.

"mind if I kiss you?" he whispers,already leaning in as you nod. His lips find yours as you lay a hand over his chest and the other on his shoulder "you taste like Cherries" he mumbles, grabbing your waist to manoeuvre you on his lap "I like it." Your hands are running all over his figure,over his buzzed head and then back down his biceps before they settle on holding on his neck. "I would love- to take you out on a date before this" he's pulling away from your mouth, making you almost whine before you're immediately shut by his lips finding their way over your neck "but I think I might go crazy if I don't feel you Immediately." His words are making you grin from ear to ear as they travel right down your core.

A pair of rough hands set the moves of your hips over the bulge in his jeans,making you moan as the material rubs just right against your cotton clad pussy. "gotta be quiet doll, we're outside and Lili is sleeping -she could wake up any moment" "shit,yeah yeah...I'll be quiet" you reply,knowing damn well it won't happen. One of Drew's hands moves southwards,running over your thigh before disappearing under your skirt immediately finding your mound. His index finger runs over the wet patch of your underwear before rubbing slow but firm circles over your clit "can I take these off, gorgeous?" His voice is soft,making you melt even more against his chest "hmhm.." "I need words,love" "yeah, please" He quickly presses a kiss to your temple muttering a "good girl" under his breath as he pushes your panties down your legs before pocketing them "gotta keep these for memory."

His words make you almost roll your eyes,but before you can even think about it one of his fingers is passing through your walls "there you go...'s fucking warm,hm" the way he's groaning against your collarbone makes you think he's the one getting pleasured. He quickly pushes another finger in finding a steady rhythm as they curl nicely against that sweet spongy spot. "god,you look gorgeous" He quickly undoes the bows holding the straps of your dress, revealing your chest to him "won't you look at these,fucking beautiful" he mumbles,wrapping his mouth around one of your nipples as his fingers continue to move in and out of you deliciously.

"fuck-" your voice is muffled,biting into his neck probably leaving an imprint behind as he adds another finger in making you clench around him as you feel yourself getting closer. "you're making such sweet noises,princess. You're getting there hm? You can let go,I'm right here" His lips move away from your breasts, trailing over your neck before they slot themselves back on yours "you're doing so good,just need you to cum for me sweet girl" His words are sending you down a spiral as you grind into his palm,his thumb rubbing circles over the tiny bundle of nerves as your moans start get more louder "cumming" your body shake over him for a long second before you fall completely still over him "good girl...feel much better huh,gonna clean me up?" he smirks, rubbing his sticky fingers over your bottom lip.

Your tongue rolls out to wrap around the digits,tasting yourself as you clean him off "fuck- what's that? you got a piercing I don't know about?" he raises an eyebrow once he pulls his fingers out of your mouth "well,shit...you gonna show me what you can do with it-" Your figure is already moving off the swing and between his legs before a loud cry from inside reminds you of the baby "well,guess that's gotta wait" you smile,standing up on shaky legs as you enter the house,feeling Drew's eyes bore into your skill.

[alibasnur]

My Friend's Widow

Pair: Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Words: 700-ish

Warning: Written in Sebastian's POV, angst, mention of sexual act, major character's death

Author's note: This has been sitting in my draft and i impulsively decided to post it before going to bed

“Today, I brought in some flowers for my friend’s widow. I cut them a little messier, just like how her blind husband used to do when he was alive. 

It was always both of them in that little house as the couple had no child. I remember how she used to tell me that she wanted several of them. But her husband despised the idea of having any at all. She must have loved him so much that she had a change of heart.

 

I wished she had given me the same mercy back then. She used to be my betrothed before she was my friend’s wife. I loved her and I treasured her in the best way that a foolish boy could do. I made a grave mistake of falling back into a deed that I had promised her not to step in, which also caused me and my friend to have a falling out.

Two years after that, I received the news about their marriage. I had never seen a bride so beautiful that it hurt me. A precious, blushing bride laughing in his husband’s arm. So beautiful, but she wasn’t mine.

It grew unbearable to simply look her in the eyes. I didn't stay much longer, just a simple congratulations and then I set off.

But I was glad. My heart sank so much that I didn’t have the strength to pick up a wand and set that wedding arch on fire. At least I didn’t make that mistake anymore. 

I knew what I’m capable of in my worst temper. But that time, I didn’t want to be the reason for her to cry. I wanted to be good for her. No matter how much I’m aching and suffering for it. 

I could be Merlin had she asked for it. But no, she wanted him instead.

I got struck by a high fever and in my sleep, I called for her name. A few days later, I picked myself up, forced myself some stale pieces of bread and water and I didn’t know why and what for.

Sometimes, It still terrified me to see her in the finest witches I came across. It was a bitter reminder that somehow I still belonged to her. She could live a life without me and I would be the one trying to numb myself from the hurtful thought of what things could’ve been.

At one point, a few years later, I could open the drawer and see the ring that she had so coldly returned with only a little sentiment. I thought that I had made up my mind. I thought that I could listen to someone speak of her, and feel no sting.

But as soon as the news of my friend’s passing was at my door, I came as quickly as a gust of wind. I found her, looking at me behind her mourning veil. Her arms reached out to me, and as I held her, I could feel every single wall I had built shatter. She said that she needed me to stay. So I stayed. 

She would call for me on her loneliest nights, I warmed her bed when it felt cold and empty, and I’ll do it gladly. After years of suffocating, I got to breathe her in. At this point, I would take anything. Her lips, her loving gaze, her skin that I could caress, even though she would call for her late husband’s name as I drove her to the peak. It felt like a stab through the chest, but I said nothing. The heartache that she inflicted on me felt as if it redeemed me, that maybe, i would be deserving of her again.

I would wait so patiently, until she comes to love me again. If not soon, then the year after. I would try to read the look on her face, behind that black, sheer lace of a veil, searching for a sign, waiting for it in every word that ever came out of her lips.

So I counted days of the year, but as my heart started to grow weary, today, she put her mourning dress back into the wardrobe, and she stared at me so lovingly that I couldn’t be mistaken.”

[jeridandridge]

For Lovers At Night part 2

Melissa tells Barb about her new budding relationship. Pt 1

The rest of that Saturday night went well for Melissa. When she got home she took a long shower and tried to tone down her total heart eye as she gets ready for bed. Getting settled she holds her phone daring to send a goodnight text as she lays in her bed next to a sleeping Joe which had become a rare occurrence.

Thank you for another great night, hon. I hope I can see you soon.

Putting her phone on do not disturb she sets it on the night stand rolling over to her side with a giddy smile on her lips.

Melissa wakes alone the following morning. The weather outside is dull and grey, making her want to stay curled up under the covers. Stretching out with a sigh she picks her phone up ready to see if she has anything from Barb about their brunch plans. Instead, she sees a text from the woman she’s found herself thinking about more often than not.

Believe me the pleasure was all mine, gorgeous. Maybe we can meet up for a coffee sometime this week if your schedule lets you. Let me know 😊

And that’s how Melissa ends up walking around the house with a cheek aching smile on her face. So much so that when she shows up to brunch with Barb, the older woman beams at her friend.

“Look at you, girl! What’s got you smiling like that?” She asks hugging her friend before they sit at the table.

“What? I can’t smile?” Melissa chuckles setting her purse down.

“I haven’t seen you smile like that in a long long time.”

Melissa let Barbara into her life a year into her career at Abbott, and she hasn’t looked back since. She knew Barb was a woman of faith, but also knew that she would never condemn her for being happy.

Resting her hand on the table, Melissa tries to bite back a smile. That attempt fails.

“I met someone that’s makin me think a lot.”

“Oh Melissa, it’s wonderful to have a new friend.” Barbara pats her hand.

“It’s already more than that, Barb.” Melissa admits. “It’s- I dunno i feel like a high school kid with a crush.”

“Well, I’m not telling you what to do, but knowing you and your husband? Be smart and do what makes you happy.”

Melissa looks at her best friend with a hopeful smile, touched that she wasn’t judged for her admission. Barb asks for more details about this mystery person and eventually, Melissa sees a familiar face coming towards their table. She sits up a little straighter, a small smile spreading on her lips.

“Melissa,” you smile walking over to the table.

“Hi, hon. I was just talking about you.”

“Uh oh, that’s rarely a good thing.” You tease. “I don’t want to interrupt your lunch, I just wanted to say hi.”

“You’re not interrupting anything, sweetheart. I’m Barbara Howard.” The woman offers you a kind handshake.

“It’s great to meet you Mrs. Howard.” You smile shaking her hand. “I’m picking up an order for the guys at the bar, I’ll catch up with you later?” You meet Melissa’s eyes.

“You bet, hon.”

Walking away you move with a pep in your step not knowing about the conversation that’s going to take place. Barbara keeps her eyes on her friend with an agape mouth. “Girl,” she draws out, “that woman likes you. And she’s very pretty.”

Melissa sips her mimosa trying to hide her smile. “She is, isnt she?”

“Does she know your situation?” Barb asks quietly. That’s when Melissa looks down at the table feeling the catholic guilt that’s been engrained in her since she was a child.

“I told her I was divorced.” She admits.

Barbara gives Melissa a look that makes her feel like she’s in trouble with her mother again.

“Sweetheart if you like her don’t you think it’s best to start off with the truth?”

Melissa sits back knowing it was wrong of her to lie about it. She’d wanted a divorce for years, not pulling the trigger on the idea because she knew it would kill her mother. So she put up with the cheating and living with a man that was nothing more than a roommate.

“I’ll tell her when the times right, Barb. I will.”

Back at the bar you and your coworker, Jacob, hangout in the back on a lunch break. As your friend goes on about his finals for his degree you sit back with your legs on your desk, food container in your lap.

“Jacob you’re gonna get hiccups if you take in any more air.” You chuckle.

“Sorry! I’m really nervous is all.” He all but whines. “I have to pass these courses then I get to do teachers without boarders finally.”

You smile playfully tossing a balled up napkin at him. “You’re gonna be a great teacher, Hill. Trust me.”

“Maybe your girlfriend could get me a job.” He smirks.

“Oh my god,” you laugh. “We’re literally building a friendship for right now.” You reason trying not to give away your already budding feelings for the mysterious woman. When your phone buzzes you can’t stop the grin spreading across your face.

“Oh.my.god. I see literal heart eyes. That must be her.”

Sure enough, on your screen you see a text from the redhead.

It was nice seeing you today, hon. How about that coffee tomorrow? I know this really nice bookshop. You might know it.

Grinning like an idiot you send her a text back.

I might know which one you’re talking about. When you get here park around the back.

Setting the phone down you look up finally snapping out of it.

“Don’t look at me like that, Hill.”

Sure enough Jacob was right and it annoys you that he is. The next day you walk around your apartment with a ridiculous smile on your lips as you clean, the nervous excitement running through you has you practically dancing across the clean floor. The idea of bringing Melissa up to your apartment was easy, it was right above the shop and bar anyway, and maybe just maybe it would allow you to get closer to the woman.

Being closed on Sundays and Mondays were usually a good thing, but now you find yourself doing busy work to get through the day until Melissa comes over after work. Making sure the floors are clean, you dust your own book shelves and re stack your records before looking around the sitting area, which really was just a big open room with a kitchen and a divider wall in front of your bedroom furniture.

Hours later when you hear the buzzer, you jump up and check your hair in the mirror, wearing it down when you’re not in the bar, this’ll be the first time Melissa sees you more comfortable.

“Hey! Cmon up.” You say into the speaker, pressing the buzzer down to let the woman in.

Melissa hops up the single flight of stairs,smiling when she sees you in the hallway. “You have a long commute to work.” She jokes.

“Oh it’s awful,” you beam stepping forward with your arms open for a hug. Melissa is a little surprised, not really showing affection to people outside of her family but she finds herself gravitating the young woman wrapping her arm around her shoulders in a little squeeze, one that feels warm and inviting.

“Ive got the coffee going already, are you hungry? I thought maybe we could order food.” You shrug casually.

“That sounds great, hon.” Melissa smiles following you into the cozy living space. “Wow, I didn’t know this was so open up here.”

“I tried to make it cozy.” You chuckle pouring two cups. “How was work?”

Melissa sets her purse down on one of the small dining table chairs, looking up at you surprised. “It was a great day actually. The kids did this project I’ve never done before, we read Peter rabbit then they decorated little plates like bunnies.” She beams talking about her kids.

You can’t help but smile as she shares how her day was, eventually moving to sit on your couch with your hot mugs in hand.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been talking and talking.” Melissa chuckles nervously following you. Joe never wanted to hear about her days at work or anything about the kids, he was always rushing out every time she tried to share something with him.

“No no!” You chuckle tucking your feet under you, “keep going, seeing you talk about your kids is adorable. So is bunny art.” Truth be told you found her laugh so warm and invigorating, it made your stomach jump in the best way.

Melissa tucks a strand of wavy hair behind her ear smiling at the young woman. “I don’t always talk about work, but they were too cute.”

“You can talk about whatever you want. I’m a good listener.” You smile sipping your coffee.

Sitting back Melissa realizes that this has been easy from the start. Having a casual conversation and feeling comfortable was easy with you.

“I have a very serious question for you, hon.”

“I might have an answer for you, Mel.” You mirror her energy with an amused smile.

“Do you like the Eagles?”

“Yes I do.” You laugh with a nod. “I don’t fully understand football, but I like it. My brother is a big football guy.”

“A brother huh? Younger or older?” Melissa beams.

“Four years older. I was a pain in his ass. What about you, any siblings?”

Melissa nods leaning forward to rest her mug on the coffee table, her shirt coming down exposing a nice amount of cleavage you have to look away from.

“I have a little sister and a baby brother. But he’s on thin ice because he keeps backing the Jets.”

“Not the Jets.” You scrunch your nose, “see I might not fully get the game but at least I’m loyal.”

“A woman after my own heart.” Melissa chuckles watching you play with the handle of your mug.

There’s that sound again.

“You’ll know when I go for that.” You smile, meeting her pretty eyes. You didn’t know what her full story was, but you wanted to find out and if that was friendly or romantic was up to Melissa.

Melissa meets your eyes, a shy smile spreading on her own face. She felt like she’d known you forever, a comfortably settling over you two with ease.

“You’re so suave, you don’t get nervous do ya?”

“You make me a little nervous,” you shrug. “But in an exciting ‘what am I going to say to keep her attention?’ way.”

It’d been so long since Melissa felt like someone was interested in her it felt almost foreign.

“Don’t be nervous, hon. If it makes you feel any better I uh, I felt I was back in high school when I was texting ya.”

“Oh yeah? “I’m happy to have made you feel like that. You’re a special person, Mel. I know meeting someone new after a breakup can be scary, but I feel very grateful you let me in like you have.” You tell her as casually as you can.

Melissa looks at the younger woman, nothing but sincerity in her eyes.

“That got way more serious than I wanted it to be,” you laugh hiding your face in your hand.

“Oh cmon!” Melissa laughs leaning over, gently taking your wrist in her hand to remove it from your face. “I’m around second graders all day having a conversation like this is great.” She gives you a soft smile.

Taking her hand in yours you lean forward just enough to enter her personal space just a bit. “You have a gorgeous smile.”

“You’re a charmer, hon.”

“I always mean what I say.” You tell her quietly. The feeling of her hand in yours gives you the same bubbly feeling it gave you at the bar the other night.

“I’m starting to see that. I think I learn somethin new about you every time I see you.”

“Yeah? What have you learned about me?” You smile back feeling a teasing steak hit you.

“You’re incredibly smart, helpful,” she hums gently squeezing your hand, “and you’re incredibly cute when you talk about something you like, like that book.”

“It’s a good book. Like I said, a woman finding herself is a beautiful thing. But if we get into that we’ll be here all night” You grin leaning a little closer.

“I can’t stay late tonight.” Melissa whispers eyeing your lips. Despite how much she wants to, she really did only come for a coffee.

“That’s okay. I know you have to teach the rugrats in the morning. Cell phones are a beautiful invention, that’ll hold us over until I can see you again.” You chuckle.

“Barb already teases me when she sees me smiling at my phone.”

“I guess the leather jacket and killer eyeliner don’t work when you look adorable and mushy looking at a phone huh?” You tease.

Melissa playfully rolls her eyes moving to stand up. “I’m not mushy now walk me out.”

“Yes, Ms.-“ you stop short as you stand up. “I was going to make a teacher joke but I don’t know your last name.” You chuckle.

Once again, Melissa’s brain short circuits. She’s not joes wife here. No, here she’s herself. “Schemmenti.”

“Very Italian.” You smile not bothering to let go of her hand as you walk her out, down the stairs to her truck.

Outside Melissa unlocks the truck still holding the younger woman’s hand.

“Can I tell you something, hon?” She whispers inching closer.

You meet jade eyes once again, butterflies hitting you just as they always do when you’re with Melissa. “Of course you can.” You say quietly, eyes flicking down to glossy lips for a moment.

But Melissa doesn’t say anything. Closing the space between the two of you she rests her hand on your cheek meeting your lips in a soft kiss. When you register what’s happening your arms slips around her waist, tongue licking at her lower lip to deepen the kiss. It feels like a magnetic pull has taken over your body as you stand there outside in the dusk, arms wrapped around her warm, curvy frame.

Melissa pulls away first, pecking your lips once more for good measure.

“For the record, I’m not scared.”

Next chapter

[morgana-larkin]

Hello, I just finished you got a friend in me part 2 and I was wondering if you could write a part 3 where Alison calls Melissa “mom/momma” or something like this for the first time. Thank you.

Hi anon! I’m very happy that you liked part 2 and then immediately wanted a part 3! I thought this was a really cute idea and wrote it pretty quickly. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I just wanted to say a huge thank you to all my followers as I passed 300 followers a few days ago! 🥹🫶🏻. I’m almost done Melissa with a breeding kink so should be out tomorrow or the day after.

You Got A Friend In Me - Part 3

Warnings: just a lot of fluff of Melissa and Alison

Words: 5k

“Alright, here's her overnight bag and here’s the key to the house in case you need to get something.” You say as you hand over Alison’s bag and the key to Melissa and she puts it in her car. “Alright Alison, remember to listen to Melissa ok?” You say to Alison and she nods.

“I will mom, I promise.” Alison tells you and you give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Ok I’ll see you both on Sunday when I get back.” You tell them.

“Alright we’ll see you then and have a good trip, and I love you.” Melissa tells you and gives you a kiss.

“I’ll try and I love you both!” You tell them before going to your car to go to work who will bring you to the airport. You’re going to a work conference in California for a couple of days and Melissa immediately offered to look after Alison while you were gone.

Melissa and Alison head inside after you leave, Melissa goes to the teachers lounge while Alison goes to hang out with her friends on the play structure.

“So how are you feeling about looking after Alison over the weekend by yourself?” Barb asks Melissa and that catches the trio’s attention.

“Why are you looking after Alison by yourself?” Jacob asks.

“Cause her mom is going to California for a work conference and will be back on Sunday. Now stop eavesdropping.” Melissa says and then turns back to Barb. “I’m pretty nervous but excited at the same time.”

“Well it’s a big thing for you, you’re basically going to be the mom for a weekend.” Barb says to her and Melissa freezes.

“I didn’t think about it that way.” Melissa says before a smile makes its way to her face.

“You seem happy at the thought.”

“Well Y/n trusts me enough to take her child for a whole weekend and basically be her parent for three days.” Melissa explains to Barb. “So kinda happy about that.”

“So what are you going to do with her over the weekend?” Janine asks.

“Well it’s the beginning of April so I was thinking indoor activities, as it’s still a bit chilly out, like bowling or staying at my place and bake cookies.” Melissa says as she has a fond smile on her face. “She also loves to draw and Scooby Doo is her favourite cartoon to watch. So maybe curl up on the couch and watch it with her with some hot chocolate.” Melissa adds.

“Sounds like a fun weekend.” Gregory says.

Melissa is sitting at her desk, doing some grading while her students are working. She can’t help but look slightly up at Alison. Looking at the way she taps her chin with the pencils eraser when she’s thinking, the way she sometimes bites her tongue when writing. Melissa can’t help but think about the way she feels about her, that she’s basically her daughter. She only wishes that she met you both sooner so she could have been there when Alison was born and watch her grow up from the start.

The final bell rings and Melissa makes sure all her kids get picked up before taking Alison’s hand and walking with her to her car. On the way out they run into Barb waiting for her husband to pick her up.

“Hello girls.” Barb tells them.

“Hi Ms. Howard!” Alison says cheerfully. “I’m spending the weekend with Melissa!” She adds on.

“I heard. Are you excited?” Barb asks her.

“Yes! I love spending time with Melissa.” Alison says and Melissa has a huge smile at hearing that.

“Well I hope you both have a good weekend.” Barb says when she sees Gerald pulling up.

“Bye Ms. Howard!”

“Bye Barb, see you on Monday.” Melissa says and then continues the way to her red car. “So kiddo, what do you want for dinner tonight? I’ll make whatever you want.” She asks Alison.

“Oh can you make your spaghetti and meatballs!” Alison suggests and Melissa smiles.

“Why do you always ask for Italian food? I can make non-Italian meals too.” Melissa says while shifting the car into drive and drives out of the parking lot.

“You said whatever I want and I want your spaghetti and meatballs.”

“Alright, I’ll make that then.” Melissa says. The rest of the drive home was filled with Alison telling Melissa all about her day even though she’s her teacher and was there for most of it. “So Alison, do you want to watch tv or help me make dinner?” Melissa asks her as they enter her house.

“Can I help make dinner?” Alison asks with a smile.

“Of course, how about we watch one episode and then we can get started on dinner?” Melissa suggests and Alison nods and then bounces over to the tv. They watch one episode of Scooby Doo and then they go over to the kitchen to get started on dinner. 10 minutes later, Alison is sitting on the counter, rolling the raw meat into balls while Melissa is making the sauce. “How does this taste?” Melissa asks her and gives her a spoon with a bit of the sauce on it.

“That’s good.” Alison tells her after taste testing. “Melissa?”

“Ya hon?”

“Do you have a father?” Alison asks her and Melissa glances at her before going back to the sauce.

“I did, he died a few years ago though.” Melissa replies with. “Why do you ask?”

“I’ve asked mom who my father is and she says that she doesn’t know.” Alison tells her with a frown.

“That’s because she doesn’t actually know. You were definitely a surprise for your mom and she loves you very much. It doesn’t matter who helped bring you into the world, who matters is who’s in your life ok?” Melissa tells her and Alison nods.

“Meatballs are done.” Alison tells her and Melissa looks at them and smiles.

“Looks great!” Melissa tells her and Alison smiles proudly.

They both have the spaghetti and meatballs in the dining room.

“What are we doing after?” Alison asks her.

“Hm, I don’t know. What do you want to do after?”

“Can we draw together?” Alison asks her and Melissa nods with a smile.

“Of course, I didn’t get you a colouring set and not have you use it.” Melissa says and Alison smiles.

“Melissa?” Alison suddenly asks and Melissa looks at her. “Why are you so good with me?”

“What do you mean hon?”

“Well when my mom was with that other girl, Kate, she was with her for a year and she never did as much with me as you do.” Alison explains to her.

“Well I don’t know what Kate was thinking, but you deserve to know that you’re just as important to me as your mom is.” Melissa says and Alison nods. “Having trouble cutting that piece of meatball?” Melissa asks after she sees Alison struggling and Alison nods. “Here, let me help you.” Melissa says and takes Alison’s fork and knife and then cuts up the meatball in pieces.

“Thank you.” Alison says then goes back to eating. After they finish eating then they go and draw on the coffee table together. “Are you and my mom going to get married?” Alison asks while drawing some grass.

“I don’t know, it’s a little early to be thinking about that. Your mom and I have only been dating for about 6 months.”

“Well I would like it if you did.”

“You would?” Melissa asks, halting her drawing.

“Ya, I like you as my teacher and I like spending time with you.”

“Well I like spending time with you too hon.” Melissa says to Alison.

“Look what I drew!” Alison exclaims a minute later and shows Melissa the drawing. “There’s me, mom, you, then grandma and grandpa.”

“You drew a family picture…with me included?” Melissa asks and Alison nods with a smile. “You’re so sweet kiddo. Come here.” Melissa says before wrapping Alison up in a hug.

“What are we doing tomorrow?” Alison asks after the hug.

“Well I thought we could go to the store and get some ingredients to bake something. Like maybe some cupcakes and decorate them after.”

“Can we make Easter cupcakes? Easter is in a week.”

“Of course we can hon. How about for now, you go and get ready for bed and then we can watch a Scooby Doo movie together. I’ll even make popcorn.” Melissa suggests and Alison’s face lights up, and then runs upstairs to the guest bedroom that Melissa set up for her.

Melissa puts a bag of popcorn in the microwave before going to set up a Scooby Doo movie. Alison comes back 10 minutes later in her pjs and flops down on the couch next to Melissa. She snuggles into Melissa before Melissa starts the movie.

“Comfy kiddo?” Melissa asks with a smile and Alison nods before paying attention to the movie.

Alison ends up falling asleep on Melissa during the second Scooby Doo movie and Melissa gently starts stroking her head. Melissa then carefully lifts her up and carries her to the guest room. She sets her down underneath the covers, tucks her in and places a kiss on her forehead.

“Good night kiddo.” Melissa whispers before getting up and leaving.

Melissa goes downstairs and cleans everything up before going back upstairs and gets ready for bed.

The next morning Melissa is up making pancakes for Alison. Alison wakes up and goes downstairs before Melissa is done with the pancakes.

“Morning kiddo.” Melissa says to her when she sees her entering the kitchen. Alison lets out a yawn before replying back to her.

“Morning Melissa.” She says groggily.

“Did you just wake up hon?” Melissa asks and Alison nods. “Are ya hungry?” Alison nods again. “Well the pancakes are almost done. How about you put the syrup and plates on the table?” Melissa suggests.

“Ok!” Alison says, who perked up at the mention of pancakes.

After breakfast they both get ready to go to the store and get the ingredients for cupcakes and decorating.

“So if you want Easter cupcakes, you want purple, yellow and white sprinkles?” Melissa asks her when they’re looking at food decorations.

“White icing, and yellow and purple sprinkles.” Alison says with a smile.

“Alright, you got it kiddo.” Melissa says as she grabs the items needed. “Now do you want chocolate, vanilla or red velvet cupcakes?” She asks.

“Chocolate!” Alison exclaims and Melissa nods with a smile. “You’re not grabbing the chocolate cupcake mix?” Alison asks as they walk right by it.

“Nope, I’m gonna show you how to make cupcakes from scratch.” Melissa tells her as Alison hops on the front of the cart.

“You and your daughter are very cute together.” Melissa hears and she turns around to see a woman looking at her with a smile.

“Oh thank you but she’s my girlfriend’s daughter.” Melissa tells her.

“Well you’re both still cute together, daughter or not.” The woman tells her and then walks away. Melissa is left stunned before she turns back to Alison who’s looking at where the woman was. Both of them then go back to shopping like it didn’t happen.

“So I think we got everything needed.” Melissa says. “Ready to go back home and start making them?” Melissa asks her excitedly.

“Yes, let’s go make some cupcakes!” Alison exclaims and then runs to a cashier.

“Woah, slow down, I can’t bring the cart that fast, Alison.” Melissa tells her.

“Sorry.” Alison says and waits for Melissa. Alison then gives the items to Melissa who puts it on the belt for the cashier to scan. Alison then helps Melissa put the stuff in her car and then brings the cart to the cart return.

“Alright, hop in kiddo.” Melissa says after opening the door to the backseat. Alison gets in the backseat and Melissa gets in the driver seat before starting the car and driving back to her place.

“I’m so excited!” Alison squeals after they bring the bags into the kitchen.

“Alright, here’s a stool for you to stand on.” Melissa tells her while she puts down a stool that she keeps around for herself for the top shelf. Alison gets on the stool while Melissa gets the cupcake pan out. “Ok kiddo, put one cupcake wrapper in each hole in here.” Melissa instructs Alison after giving her the wrappers. Alison does as instructed while Melissa gets everything out. They then begin making cupcakes from scratch. “Alright now add the chocolate chips and the cocoa powder.” Melissa continues instructing Alison.

“How many chocolate chips?”

“Let’s put about half the bag.” Melissa tells her and Alison nods before pouring the chocolate chips in.

“Can I steal a few?” Alison asks and Melissa nods with a smile.

“Go for it kiddo.”

They continue making the cupcakes after Alison steals a few chocolate chips and hands some over to Melissa for her to eat some as well.

“Alright and now we pour the mix into the cupcake wrappers about halfway.” Melissa tells her and hands her a spoon. As soon as Alison starts putting the mix in the wrappers is when Melissa gets a call. Melissa gets her phone out and sees that you’re calling her. “Hey.” Melissa tells you when she accepts the call.

“Hey Melissa! How are things with you and Alison?” You ask and she immediately wants to video chat with you and you accept it and your face comes into view.

“Hi mom!” Alison exclaims and you can see they’re making something.

“Hi sweetheart! Are you two making something?”

“Yes, Melissa taught me how to make cupcakes from scratch and she let me steal a few chocolate chips.” Alison tells you while she pours some mix into a wrapper.

“Oh wow! Sounds like you’re having a fun time.” You say.

“Ya I am.” Alison says and you see Melissa ruffle up Alison’s hair.

“She’s been a good little helper.” Melissa tells you with a smile.

“After they’re done in the oven, we’re gonna decorate them and it’s going to be Easter themed!” Alison tells you and you open your mouth in shock.

“Oh my god, that’s so cool!” You tell her and Alison goes back to what she was doing. “How was last night?” You ask Melissa and she turns the camera to herself.

“It was good, she helped me make dinner and then she fell asleep while watching Scooby Doo.” Melissa tells you.

“We also drew pictures!” You hear Alison say and Melissa smiles and blushes at that and you wonder what they drew.

“What did you guys draw?” You ask and Melissa flips the camera to Alison’s drawing that was on the fridge.

“She drew a family picture.” Melissa says and you look at the picture and see that Alison also included Melissa in the picture.

“Aww that's cute, I see she included you in it.” You say and she flipped the camera back to herself and you can see she’s smiling and biting her lip while nodding. “Well I’m so happy that you’re close to each other.” You tell her and she smiles at you. “I do have to go but I just wanted to call to check in on you guys.”

“Well thanks for checking in, Alison and I are having fun together.” Melissa tells you. “Wait, are you having fun Alison?” Melissa asks her and Alison turns around.

“Yep!” Alison replies with. “Melissa I’m done with the cupcakes, can I eat the rest of the mix?” Alison asks and Melissa looks at the cupcake wrappers filled with the mix.

“Just put a little more in that one.” Melissa says and points to one. “Then you can eat the batter.” Melissa tells her and Alison nods before adding more of the mix into one and then starts eating the batter.

“Well I’ll let you both go as I have a conference to get too.” You tell her and she nods at you with a smile.

“Well, have fun with that.” She tells you and you chuckle.

“I won’t but thank you.”

“No problem, I love you.” Melissa tells you and you smile at her.

“I love you too.” You say and then Melissa brings the phone over to Alison who has a mouth full of batter. “I love you sweetheart.” You tell her.

“I love you too! Bye mom.” Alison says before putting more batter in her mouth. You disconnect the call after waving to the both of them.

“Alright kiddo, let’s pop these in the oven.” Melissa tells Alison and Alison then gets off the stool. Melissa grabs the cupcakes, pops them in the oven and sets a timer for 15 minutes. “Alright now to clean up.” Melissa says to Alison. “Do you mind bringing these to the sink? And putting these dishes in the dishwasher?” Melissa says and hands a few things to Alison who then nods and does what she’s told.

“Melissa, remember that lady from the store, the one who thought you were my mom?” Alison asks her.

“Yes, why?”

“Well it made me think about that, I do see you as a mother figure.” Alison says and Melissa turns and looks at her.

“Really?”

“Ya, I mean you’re always there for me when I need you, and you help my mom take care of me, isn’t that what a mom is supposed to do?” Alison tells her and a couple of tears fall down Melissa’s face.

“I guess so hon. You know I think you’re very smart for an 8 year old.” Melissa tells her and Alison smiles.

After cleaning up and chatting a bit, the timer on the oven goes off and Melissa goes and gets the cupcakes out. After checking that their done, Melissa gets everything set up for Alison to start decorating.

“I can’t get the icing right.” Alison pouts out after trying for the third time.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Melissa says and guides Alison on how to put icing on the cupcakes.

“Thank you!” Alison says and then continues doing the other cupcakes. “How crazy can I go with the sprinkles?” Alison asks Melissa after she’s done with the icing.

“As crazy as you want. Use all of them if you want.” Melissa tells her and Alison’s face lights up.

After drowning the cupcakes with sprinkles, Alison announced that she was done and they both had a couple before putting the rest in the fridge. After they finished eating, they went to the couch and Melissa grabs the deck of cards on the coffee table. Alison watches in amazement how good Melissa is shuffling the deck of cards and Melissa looks at her with an amused smirk.

“Been shuffling decks for years kiddo.” Melissa tells her.

“Will you teach me to shuffle them like you do?” Alison asks her and Melissa smiles at her.

“Sure, it’ll take a lot of practice though.” Melissa responds with and Alison smiles and nods. Melissa deals 7 cards to each of them, they make their matches and then Alison starts the game.

“Do you have any 4’s?” Alison asks.

“Go fish.” Melissa says after a second. “Do you have any 9’s?” Melissa asks after Alison takes a card.

“Yes.” Alison says with a sigh and reluctantly gives her two 9’s. “That was gonna be my next move, ask for 9’s.” Alison tells her and Melissa smiles.

They end up playing go fish for a couple hours before switching games.

“Ok this game is called crazy eights.” Melissa says to Alison. She then goes on to explain how to play and they do a few practice rounds.

“Ok I think I might have the hang of it now.” Alison says after the 4th practice round.

“Want to play for real now?” Melissa asks her and Alison nods. “Ok.” Melissa says and then she deals the cards.

They play a couple games of crazy eights before Melissa gets up to go heat up some leftovers for dinner. During dinner, Alison is looking a bit disappointed while eating.

“Something wrong kiddo?” Melissa asks her.

“My mom is coming back tomorrow.” Alison says and Melissa looks at her confused.

“Ya she is, aren’t you happy about that? You love your mom.” Melissa asks her.

“I am happy about seeing her again, but that also means going back home without you.” Alison says and Melissa gives her a small smile.

“You see every day in school and all 3 of us spend time together on the weekends though. Even though we don’t live together, you still see me everyday.” Melissa tells her.

“But every evening after school you’re not there.”

“Would you prefer if I was?” Melissa asks her and Alison nods. “Well maybe your mom and I can talk about me spending evenings at your place or all of us spending evenings here.” Melissa tells her and Alison smiles.

“What are we doing after dinner?” Alison asks.

“I thought I could give you your first lesson on shuffling, maybe play another game and then watch a movie.”

“What game?”

“Well what game do you want to play kiddo?”

“Do you have snakes and ladders?” Alison asks and Melissa chuckles.

“Of course I do, l’m not an amateur.” Melissa jokes and Alison smiles before they finish dinner.

After dinner, Melissa teaches her how to shuffle properly without dropping any cards. Then they play snakes and ladders 3 times before they decide on a movie to watch.

“You wanna watch the Addams family?” Melissa asks Alison after Alison suggests it.

“Yep, I’ve heard it’s funny.”

“Well it is, and it’s also more of a Halloween movie.” Melissa tells her.

“Can we watch it?”

“Sure, you can get it ready and I’ll get the popcorn.” Melissa says and Alison smiles before getting it set up. Melissa comes back in with 2 bowls of popcorn and a few popcorn flavours. “Choose a flavour if you want.” Melissa tells her and Alison immediately adds the cheddar one.

They watch the Addams family together and Melissa sees that Alison is enjoying it a lot and maybe they can watch the second one too.

“I love Wednesday! Do you think I could be her for Halloween? She’s so cool!” Alison says after the movie.

“I think we could get you a Wednesday costume. Do you want to watch the second one? Wednesday is in it more.” Melissa tells her and Alison immediately nods her head excitedly.

“Can we have more popcorn? I finished mine.” Alison tells her and Melissa smiles before getting up and making more. “Oh my god, Debbie is just as crazy as them.” Alison exclaims during the movie and Melissa chuckles.

“That’s the point kiddo.” Melissa says and Alison leans on Melissa to cuddle with her, and Melissa immediately wraps her arm around her. Melissa reads Alison a bedtime story after she finishes getting ready for bed and Alison laughs every time she uses a funny voice. “Alright hon, I’ll see you in the morning.” Melissa tells her as she tucks her in and places a kiss on her forehead before leaving the room.

The next morning, Melissa is cooking some bacon and eggs when she gets a video call and sees it’s from you.

“Hey you.” Melissa says as your face goes into view.

“Hey Melissa.” You say with a smile. “Wanted to call you before I leave for my flight.” You tell her and Melissa smiles.

“Well I never mind a call from you.” She says as she flips the bacon.

“The plane lands around 2:30 so I should get to your place around 3.” You say and she looks at you in shock.

“What makes you think Alison and I aren’t picking you up from the airport?” She asks you and you look at her with a slight blush on your cheeks.

“I don’t know, I just didn’t want to assume.” You tell her and she shakes her head at you with a smile.

“Well Alison and I will be there.” She tells you and you smile and nod your head.

“So how was it with Alison?” You ask her and she smiles.

“It was really good, lots of fun. And I was thinking of taking her bowling before you get here, unless you want to join us.” She tells you.

“It’s you and Alison’s choice.” You say with a smile.

“There is something that she said yesterday.” Melissa starts and you nod your head for her to continue. “She said she wanted me around more, like in the evening after school.”

“Oh, well that’s definitely an easy fix if you want to be around more.” You say.

“You don’t mind if I’m around more?”

“Melissa, we’ve been together for 6 months, if I didn’t want you around then I would have already told you.” You say with a small chuckle and she lets out an airy laugh.

“I guess so. And yes I do want to be around more. You both make me feel happy.” Melissa says as she turns off the stove and gets two plates.

“You know if her drawing is anything to go by, she sees you as family.” You tell her as she scoops the bacon and eggs onto the plates.

“She’s an amazing kid, I’d be happy if I could be family for you both.” She says and you smile at her.

“I always knew you were a softie, a red teddy bear.” You say to her and she scoffs.

“Only with you two.” She says with a smile.

“Is that bacon I smell?” Alison says as she enters the kitchen in her pjs.

“It is, kiddo.” Melissa says and grabs her phone. “Your mom is on the phone.” Melissa tells her and Alison grabs the phone.

“Hi mom!”

“Hey sweetheart, did you have fun with Melissa?” You ask her and she nods.

“A lot of fun! Yesterday, Melissa taught me how to shuffle cards and we watched The Addams Family.” Alison explains to you.

“Oh wow, sounds like you had a lot of fun yesterday. I also heard that you want to see Melissa more.” You say and Alison nods. “I think we can arrange that.”

“I want to see you and her at the same time though. Like living together.” Alison tells you and both you and Melissa freeze.

“I think it’s too early for that but we can definitely arrange where either Melissa comes here more or we spend more time at her place.” You explain to Alison and she nods.

“Ok.” Alison says.

“Alison, do you want to go bowling before we go pick your mom up or after?” Melissa asks her.

“Can we do it with my mom?” Alison says excitedly and Melissa nods.

“Of course.” Melissa tells her and brings the plates to the table. “So we’ll stay here until we have to pick your mom up and then we’ll go bowling after.” Melissa says and they both agree with her.

“Hey, I have to go but I’ll see you both around 2:30.” You tell them and Melissa bends down to see you on the phone as Alison is holding it.

“Alright hon. We’ll see you at 2:30.” Melissa says.

“Bye mom!” Alison says to you.

“Bye, I love you both.” You tell them

“I love you too.” Alison tells you.

“I love you hon.” Melissa tells you and then you disconnect the call. “Alright let’s eat.” Melissa says before they both go to sit at the table.

The day flew by too quickly for Melissa. Yes she’s happy that she’ll get to see you again, but acting like a mother for Alison for the weekend was better than she’ll admit.

After breakfast they both went to get dressed, then they drew, played cards, watched Scooby Doo. Melissa even helped Alison with some of the homework that she gave out on Friday. Before they knew it, it was time to go and pick you up. Melissa drove them both to the airport, parked and went to the gate that you’d arrive at.

You step off the plane and you go to where your luggage will be. You turn the corner and you see Melissa and Alison there, looking to be playing patty cake. You walk up further and you and Melissa lock eyes. You then see her stop playing with Alison and say something to her before Alison turns around.

“Mom!” She yells and comes running to you. You go on one knee and have your arms wide open as she makes her way to you and attacks you with a hug.

“Hi sweetheart! I missed you.” You tell her and she pulls away just as Melissa makes it to where you two are.

“Hey hon.” She says and then you stand back up and kiss her.

“Ew!” You hear and you pull back and look at Alison who’s making a face.

“What are you saying ew for?” You ask her.

“Because I’m looking at my mom kissing mama, that’s why.” Alison says and then walks over to the luggage.

“Wait, did she just-” you say and look at Melissa who’s looking at Alison in shock.

“She just called me mama.” Melissa says as a tear slides down her cheek.

“Mom, I see your luggage.” Alison says and you go over and take your luggage.

“Alison, did you just call me mama?” Melissa asks Alison and Alison nods.

“Is that ok?” Alison asks her and Melissa immediately nods and gives her a big hug.

“That’s more than ok kiddo. I love it!” Melissa says with a huge smile.

“Alright, ready to get out of here?” You ask them both and they nod.

You all go out to the car, pack your luggage in the trunk and then you all get in, with Melissa in the driver’s seat.

“Alright, bowling now?” Melissa asks you both.

“Ya! Bowling!” Alison yells and you nod. Melissa then grabs your hand and you look over at her with a smile. Melissa gives you a smile in return before she drives off to bring you all bowling.

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Let me know if you want to be added!

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

××《☆》××

Looking back at the day you first met, you realise how far you've gone. You appreciate the little things in life and some little people, too.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: This is literally just plain fluff, LAST CHAPTER OF DOUZIÈME FILLE!!!

===

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Chapter ten: I love you

===

You had six best days of your life.

Paris, France. 1973.

The wedding was one of the best days of your life. You had a beautiful gown, a beautiful cathedral, a beautiful ceremony, and a beautiful husband.

Everything was perdect from the venue, to the food, to the gifts, and to the guests.

You saw old friends. Callum, of course, came and was pronounced man of honour by Joseph. Simone and Jean Pierre had gotten locked in about two years ago, right after they finished college. Michèle and Laubrac came back after profuse apologies of leaving. They haven't married each other yet, but you have a feeling it's soon. Also because Joseph told you that Laubrac told him that he'll propose soon.

Europe Trip, 1973

The second best day of your life was your honeymoon. You and your now husband went around Europe. Going to places you've already been and places you haven't gone to.

A side note, you left that celebrity profile ages ago. It was too toxic anyway, with all the drama you didn't want to get into. Callum did the opposite of this. You're happy for him. And his fiancé, or as he likes to call him, his husband.

Bordeux, 1974

Moving was hard, but it was the third best day of your life. And carrying Briseis was a part of it.

Briseis, your first born. She was named after a character from the Iliad, the same Iliad you had presented in that project with Joseph back in high school.

She was as bright as her father, always laughing and wanting to have fun. Joseph loves her so much to the point that he will always be the one to put her back to sleep when she wakes in the early morning. He does that because he loves you, too.

Bordeux, 1976

The fourth best day of your life was when you gave birth to George.

George was named after your late cat you had in high school. He was taken care of both you and Joseph, which held a special place in your heart. Truly, George, your cat was your first child. But, let's not forget Briseis.

Briseis was two now, gaining the ability to speak, walk, run, whatever drained her unsifting energy. You were most proud, as well as your loving husband.

One of these nights, you'd catch him talking to both of them, talking about whatever they wanted to talk about, telling them stories, showing them fun. They fall sound asleep after, and you, for one, are grateful for him.

Also, you adopted two cats. One Achilles, one Patroclus. What? You couldn't help it.

Bordeux, 1980

Only a few months ago, your beautiful Callum was born. He was obviously named after your best friend. Callum cried when he found out. That was the fifth best day of your life.

He flew all the way to where you lived, seeing as now he lived with his lover in Sicily. He gave him countless amounts of gifts, even the ones month old babies couldn't use.

The house was fully packed. Your three children, two pets, and a mother and a father. Their very beautiful father.

You were in your 30s now, and you're so glad you're in this age with him by your side.

You sit in your husbands office, reading a book in the corner of the room. He was finishing up some papers, cigarettes between his lips, and sometime later blowing out the smoke.

You were halfway through a stanza when you heard a record break. Music started playing, the volume going up slowly. You look up from your hardcover to Joseph standing there, hands in his pockets and an eye on you. You raise your eyebrows. He does so, too.

"Dance with me, honey." He says, walking towards you slowly after he butted his cigarette out. You roll your eyes, putting your book down.

"You'll wake the kids up with that music." Even after saying that, you get up anyways, grabbing the hands he offered you a while ago.

He shrugs simply, sliding a hand on your hip and raising his other. "We'll take them back to sleep then. Dance with me." He presses his forehead to yours, kissing the tip of your nose.

You can't help but close your eyes, relaxation hitting your body like a truck. It's been a while since you felt like this. You both had been so busy with work or with the kids. You needed this. He did, too.

He starts to hum along the song. "I can see it in your eyes that you despise the same old lies you heard the night before."

Your mind flashes back to your high school days. The weeks of ignoring each other was wasting time that could've been used for loving instead.

"And though it's just a line to you, for me, it's true and never seemed so right before."

You look back at the first day of school. You thought you hated him. You thought he hated you. But in trutg it was the opposite, he confessed. He loved you the second he laid eyes on you, and you had been too blind to see, trying to distract yourself from the fact you did actually love him, too.

"I practice every day to find some clever lines to say to make the meaning come true. But then I think I'll wait until the evening gets late and I'm alone with you."

Seven years you were away from each other. He told you how much he missed you that night after the gala. He told you he prepared, he practised, because he didn't want to mess anything up. You told him nothing could because even after convincing yourself in high school that you didn't love him, you still did.

"The time is right. Your perfume fills my head. The stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue." He turns you to spin, and you get back to your place in front of him, swaying with a hand on his chest.

"And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like, "I love you. "" He looks deep into your eyes, now staying still. He takes your lifted hand to his lips, pressing his pretty pink lips on it.

"I love you." He says, the instruments in the background adding to the moment. You smile, and he mirrors you. You place a kiss on those lips, tilting your head a bit. You part away.

"I love you." You say, caressing his cheeks. You're so glad you ended up here. With him. This was your sixth favourite day of your life.

"Mommy? Daddy?" A tiny voice asks. You both turn your head to Briseis, eyes droopy and hair a mess. She walks closer to the two of you, and Joseph does the task of lifting her up to your level.

"Yes, sweetheart? Why aren't you asleep?" Joseph said gently, and you can't help but show a smile.

"I can't. I wanna hear a story." You two nod at each other before carrying on to turn the record player off and heading to Briseis' room.

Once you tuck her in well, leaving the bedside lamp on, you question. "Alright, which story do you want for tonight." Joseph sits on the other side, brushing your daughter's hair with his fingers.

"How did you two meet?" She asks, fluffing her blanket up. You and Joseph look at each other, smiling knowingly, before you continue.

"Well, this is where it started. It was 1963. They mixed boys and girls in the same school. I was the twelfth girl."

××《☆》××

End - Chapter ten: I love you/Douzième Fille Series

××《☆》××

The series has officially ended. I'm so sad and so happy at the same time. I can't believe it. It's been so long with this series, and it's over. Our babies have grown up and have their own babies.

To all the people who read this, thank you so much for keeping up with it. This was my first ever series, and its amazing how many people have come and followed the journey.

This is a memory that'll be embedded in me for the rest of my fuckign life, no matter how cringe that sounds, but it's true. I made a lot of memories with an online fanfic series. it's crazy

I love you all so much and want to thank you guys for the support. I will continue writing for joseph it just depends on my mood. I will now start to write for other ppl, like u guys saw me post abt hamzah.

ANWWW, it's been a journey. Thank you again, and I hope you all enjoyed it.

[tipofthemountain]

actress

tags: biker!Simon “Ghost” Riley x actresses!Afab Reader, Fluff, Established relationship, reader is a famous actress. Mentions of sex and sexual acts but no action is taken. Minors should still take extreme caution reading!

word count: 1.5k

summary: Reader is on set of her newest movie and Simon comes to visit!

a/n: First story I’m posting! I’m a little nervous for what everyone will think but I hope you enjoy it!

ps. biker!Simon is my current hyper fixation so bare with me if there’s like a million more biker au stories :}.

edit: adding this in but my requests are open!

༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻ ༺𖤓༻

It was a warm Tuesday inside studio lot B. A beautiful facade of a two story house stands in a field of white daisies. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes when you walked onto the set. It looked so real! An exact replica of the real house you’ll be shooting on in a week.

The role you are playing is that of a farm wife with her three children, except your husband is having an affair with the barns keeper and your sleeping with the maid. Neither of you know you’re both cheating of course but the children do. The entire plot of the movie is the children trying to get the parents to find out about the double affairs. It’s a LGBTQ+ romance set in the early 1950s. It’s filled with steamy sex scenes and overly dramatic fights.

It’s the exact kind of movie you love doing. Sappy period pieces. In fact the movie that put you in the spotlight was almost exactly like this except it was the 1860s and you where a young unmarried queen with a “live in maid”.

Your boyfriend of 5 years Simon, or as his biker group likes to call him “Ghost” for the skull bandanna he likes to wear around his face, dropped you off on set on his newly refurbished 1980s Harley Davidson. You swore sometimes you thought he was more in love with that bike than he was with you.

“Make some money baby.” Simon told you after a steamy kiss early this morning.

Simons always been supportive of your career. The two of you met on the set of a Tv show when he was hired as a last minute extra for for some bike scene you can barely remember. For Simon it was love at first sight, but for you it was ‘I’ll wait and see where this goes’. Spoiler: You fell in love and are engaged, set to be married later this year.

“Where is my Anna Marie?” You hear your director yell out as you sit in your makeup chair getting touches done to your character’s signature red lip.

“Over here Clark! I needed my lips retouched. I think Amy got a little excited!” Clark Russel. You’ve worked with him a few times now and he’s always been a joy and a pleasure to work with, not something you find comes easy in this industry.

“Your needed on set in five. We’ve got to have this last shot of you and Blanche in the kitchen. We’ve got one week of shooting left here in the studio before we all go out on location.” Clark quickly spills out with you barely catching any of it.

Blanche is played by your costar Amy Heart. A talented actress 3 young years older than you. You’ve done several movies with her by now. You consider her one to your best friends and even plan to ask her to be a bridesmaid.

“James, Finn and Blanche are all on set. We just need you.” Clark makes direct eye contact with you as your makeup artist finishes the last touches on your makeup. He always insisted on calling people by their character names and you never questioned it.

James is played by Arther Godwin. The man that’s supposed to be your characters husband. You’ve never met him before this project but a quick IMDB search led you down a rabbit hole of bad low budget horror movies that you and Simon later binged watched. Finn is played by Roderick Grant, a fresh face. This would be his breakout role after a stream of hit indie movies.

“All done.” Your makeup artist releases you and you stand up from your seat grabbing the jacket that goes with your costume. You throw the jacket on around your shoulders and loop your arm in Clarks.

“Let’s get this show on the road!” You say in an over dramatic southern accent to which your director roles his eyes at.

༺𖤓༻

After 3 more hours of grueling take after take of Clark just having to get the tear sliding down your cheek just right, to which you where ready to rip his head off. Your just about to pass out on your trailer couch in nothing but a robe and very thin 1950s appropriate lingerie, when you hear 3 gentle knocks on your door. You get up with a puff of air leaving your lips putting your hands in your hair.

“Who is it!” You yell not really wanting to get up to answer the door.

“Open the door and find out!” You hear that oh so familiar thick Manchester voice behind the thinness of your trailers door.

In no time you’re rushing to the door and pulling your bulky fiancé in to your trailer and lacing your red lips with his. Simon closes the door through your sloppily sweet kisses. He smells of expensive leather and gas but you still drink all of him in.

“You miss me tha’ much?” Simons thick accent lets out through a smirk.

“Always.” You smile up at the tall man resting your chin on his chest.

“How was today? Make anyone else cry today?” Simon jokes but you take serious offense.

“That was one time and I didn’t even mean to yell at the poor guy.” You slap his shoulder as you both take a seat next in the oh so comfy couch in your trailer.

“I was only joking love.” Simon laughs and places a gentle kiss to your temple. He has one hand around your shoulder and the other rubbing up and down your thigh softly. You with one of your hands on his much bigger thigh and the other holding the hand that’s around your shoulder.

“Long day. Completely closed set. Only Clark and the main cast where set to shoot today.” Closed sets are usually indicators that you where filming your sex scenes today. You had one with your on screen husband and one with Amy. You almost never liked doing sex scene with men. It was never because Simon didn’t want you to or that you ever hated your male costar. You had this respect for Simon and you felt like the sex scenes could get too real sometimes. Personally, you never wanted for Simon to watch a scene of you sharing a bed(or even sometimes a kitchen counter) with another man. But every time you would ask Simon he would always just say some form of ‘This is all make believe. It isn’t real. I know you love me and some fake sex scene isn’t going to change that.” You still sometimes denied it though.

“When are you off?” Simon ask softly moving his hand further up your thigh.

You knew the game he was playing, he always did this when visiting. He always got you worked up and sweating before you had to go back and shoot a scene.

“30 minutes my love. We have to finalize a few things for today, but nice try honey.” You push Simons hand down slightly and look up towards him. Of course he has the cheekiest smirk on his face.

“I miss you at home.” Simon says kissing down your neck this time and creeping his hand back up your thigh.

“Simon.” You whisper scold him as he makes his way onto your shoulder planting sweet kisses.

“I miss the way you smell…” He grabs your hips and lays your back flat against the couch hovering over you as he plants kisses down over your collar bone. You inhale sharply when he moves his hand under the thin bra provided by the costume department.

“I miss the way you feel…” He moved his other hand to finish untying to robe from around your waist. He slowing starts kissing his way down your stomach stopping at the hem of the very 1950s lingerie.

“And I certainly miss the way you taste.” Simon has a giant smile planted on his face when he plants open mouth kisses down your thigh.

And just when he’s about to touch your center 3 harsh knocks are placed on your door.

“Miss, Mr. Russel said he needs you.” The voice calls out not even waiting for you to respond.

Simon lets out a laugh and you sit up and push him lightly.

“That’s not funny!” You whisper yell at him only to make him laugh even more. You stand up and tie your robe back around your waist and walk to the trailer door.

“It’s a little funny.” Simon says watching you with a panicked look on your face.

“I’ll be back in 20 minutes. I love you.” You place a gentle kiss on Simons lips and him returning the kiss.

“I love you too.” He says back placing one final kiss to your forehead.

Before you leave however you whisper into his ear “I think you owe the costume designer.” and bite the end of his ear playfully.

Simon watches you with his his cheek drawn inside his mouth as you grab the door handle of your trailer and leave him alone with his nothing but his thoughts for the next 20 minutes.

༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻ ༺𖤓༻

final thoughts: i definitely got carried away while writing. I tend to do that. I get caught up on details that most likely don’t even matter all that much. I feel like somethings definitely could have been left out and more things added in but in the end it’s just a story and if you don’t like the first few sentences, just skip the story and move on.

@gauloiseblue for you friend <3