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godmadeaterribleerror · 3 months ago

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Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: As we begin our first 5-digit word count chapter (I can’t be stopped, someone take away my keyboard) and I find a stride of about two chapters per week, I want to say that: A) I fully intend on finishing this story. I plotted out the whole thing before I started, have made a few adjustments given the pacing I’ve done so far, and with how it’s broken down right now we’ll reach the end in 2-3 months. B) Thank y’all from the bottom of my heart for reading! If you have theories or thoughts or feedback please don’t hesitate to share them! I love hearing what you think of the plot and the characters, and every interaction means the world to me. Whether you’re only reading or leaving comments as well, thank you so damn much. I’ll see you next chapter (it’s gonna be a doozy) <3

Chapter Title from Bells in Santa Fe by Halsey.

Word Count: 11.2k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You throw a punch, and Phase One: Operation Quick and Bald goes. Not well, but it goes. Contains usual warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, fluff, angst

Read on A03!

Chapter 5 - Chapter 7

Taglist: @lordofthunderthr @kritara

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Ben dodged the third punch in a row, grinning widely right up until the fourth one landed on his face.

“Ha!” She yelled, drawing back to shake her first out. “Take that, you weirdly fast man.”

Ben rolled his eyes, rubbing his face lightly. It hadn’t hurt—he’d barely even felt it—but She was being real fucking smug for someone who’d only just landed a hit after a damn week of attempting to do so.

“Yeah, sure, Sunshine. Keep it the fuck up, and at this rate it’ll only take you another couple thousand years to surpass Muhammad Ali.”

She raised her brows at Ben, pausing with a tilt of her head. “You were a fan of Muhammad Ali?”

He nodded, giving her a scrunched look of annoyance. “I’m a fucking American, and there ain’t nothing more red-blooded American than punching commies like that son of a bitch did.”

“What?”

“When he fought the Russian, and won. That’s fucking American.”

“Ben, you’re thinking of the plot of Rocky IV.”

“No, Muhammad Ali fought that Russian pussy and kicked his fucking ass.”

“No, Sylvester Stallone fought the Russian pussy and kicked his fucking ass. In a movie.” She laughed to herself. “I’m shocked you even saw Rocky IV, let alone were so impacted by it to let the plot override your knowledge of a real life person.”

“Shut up,” Ben grunted, moving his hands back to a defensive stance. She fucking always won these stupid arguments, and Ben couldn’t actually prove it, but he knew She was changing the fucking internet she loved so damn much to match her claims. “Go again.”

“Someone missed nap time.” She muttered under her breath, even though she knew Ben could fucking hear her, but put her fists up anyways. “Can this be the last one? I’m hungry.”

Instead of answering, Ben just launched himself at her, and She jumped to the side with a yelp.

“What the fuck, Ben!”

He turned and threw another punch, feeling pleased at the smooth way she ducked away and met it with a punch of her own. Her face had lost the pissy shock, laser-sharp concentration replacing it. Her eyes were narrowed, darting across Ben as he moved, her bobbing and weaving wasn’t entirely shit, and her heart was controlled with her breathing. She landed her second punch, this one on his shoulder, and Ben laughed, delivering one of his own.

“Christ, Sunshine, you’re fucking weak.” He laughed, examining Her carefully for any loss of control.

“I’ll kill you with my bare hands, Bitch.” She growled, lunging forward and grunting in frustration as Ben dodged with ease.

“That’s my line.” He taunted. “And you couldn’t even kill a man with an assault rifle if he was a fucking foot away from you.”

“Blow me.”

“I’ve been fucking trying- Fuck!” She landed her third punch, and it burned. Ben reached to touch where she’d hit and felt the skin mending across his jaw.

She was grinning in a wide, toothy, satisfied way. “Suck on that, cunt.”

“Bitch,” he muttered, looking down at his hand to see it raw and red from the contact with his face, with some of his fucking hair stuck to it.

“Did you burn off my fucking beard!” His head shot up to see a half-sheepish, half-amused look on her face, lips curled and eyes wide.

“Oops.”

He yelled her name, and she had the fucking nerve to giggle. “We said no fucking powers!”

“I forgot.” She said lamely, her face less and less apologetic by the second, giggling again as she offered some of the most insincere comfort Ben had ever heard. “It’s not even that noticeable! You look just as good as before!”

His anger faded, and he gave Her a cocky smirk, raising his brows. “You think I look good, Sunshine?”

“I’m being nice. Don’t ruin it.” She muttered, her face adorably flushed, and Ben didn’t miss the skip of her heart.

“Whatever keeps you up at night.”

“That’s not the phrase.”

He winked. “I know.”

She scoffed and turned away, but not before Ben could see the slight smile on her lips. “I’m going to shower, I’ll meet you in the living room in fifteen. If you’re not there, with food, I’m eating the TV.”

Ben frowned, calling after Her figure moving down the hall. “Has the TV been edible this whole fucking time and you didn’t fucking tell me?!”

Her laughter echoed back down the hall. "You're real fucking gullible, grampa!"

“You know I can’t fucking tell when you’re joking about that shit, you bitch!”

“Fourteen minutes, cunt!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to make food in fourteen minutes?!”

“You’re a big boy, you’ll figure it out!”

Grumbling a string of cusses Ben hoped She could fucking feel, Ben grabbed a cup of instant noodles and threw them in the microwave, wondering if She would notice if he spit in hers. After pulling them out, grabbing two spoons from the counter that he almost immediately bent, spilling one of the cups as he noticed the damaged utensils, spilling the other when he noticed the first spill, and having to start the whole damned fucking thing over, Ben made his way to drop on the couch next to where She sat, wet hair clinging to her pretty face.

“Heard a lot of swearing, Pretty Boy, everything ok?”

He grunted, shoving Her noodles against her chest and letting go, not giving a fuck if she had a grip on them. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Just asking a question,” he could hear her shit-eating grin. “Thought it was a free country. Thought a patriot like you would appreciate me exercising my first amendment right.”

“That protects you from the government, not me.” Ben parroted back the words She had yelled at him after he’d made the apparently fucking fatal mistake of saying “first amendment right” in her presence.

She chuckled, her voice teasing. “Didn’t know you were capable of retaining information about something other than yourself.”

“Well, your tits were looking great while you were bitching. It helped.” He grabbed the remote, raising it to the TV. “I made food. I’m picking what we watch.”

“If you pick Game of Thrones so you can watch the sex scenes again, I’m figuring out a way to kill myself and doing it on your bed.”

“Whatever gets you in my bed, Sunshine.” He winked. “And I’m invested in the fucking plot, it’s not just the sex scenes.”

“It’s mostly the sex scenes.” She said, not even flinching at his flirtation. “Just go watch porn. See how fast you can break the fleshlights. If you do all three in ten minutes, Butcher owes me twenty dollars.”

Ben scowled, not enjoying that She’d apparently been making fucking bets with Butcher about his masturbation. “I can last longer than ten fucking minutes, I’m not a fucking pussy.”

“Prove it.”

He grinned widely at Her as her face flushed adorably, her own phrasing catching up with her head. “I’d be honored, Sunshine.”

“You’re like a fucking rabbit in heat.” She muttered. “And if you do last longer than ten, Hughie gets the money, so keep that in mind when you’re jerking it to dragon boobs after I go to bed.”

“The dragons don’t have any fucking boobs, dumbass, the fucking hot lady queens do.” Ben said smugly, ignoring her eye roll. “And I would ‘jerk it’ in the privacy of my room, but someone won’t give me a fucking phone.”

“Yeah, the CIA. I’d actually back you up with Mallory, Pretty Boy. I think giving you a phone would be really entertaining.”

“I don’t need your fucking help.” He snapped, and she laughed.

“Can’t rely on just a handsome face to convince her that you somehow deserve the internet.”

“Handsome face?” He grinned at her, and only the slight stutter of her heart told Ben she heard him.

She made a mock face of thought. “Maybe if we suggested parental controls…”

“I’ll kill you, bitch.”

“I’ll make you the most useless and sad eunuch to ever grace this sorry planet, cunt.”

Ben glared at Her, and she reached over his arm to press play on the remote.

Most of the days since the failed Sister Sage mission had been like this. She and Ben got up, trained, ate, trained more, and then watched TV with dinner until She retreated to her room and Ben fought sleep for the rest of the night, alone. Neither of them mentioned how he’d saved her, or how She had started a habit of slapping Ben awake—he was pretty fucking certain that at this point she had figured out another way to break through the nightmares but was purposely choosing to fucking hit him instead—before she’d sit next to him for an hour or two after. Ben liked this unspoken arrangement, and liked even more how She had silently agreed to it. Just because he didn’t actively hate Her right now didn’t mean he was about become a sniveling pussy mess about feelings. Even if the lack of active hatred had morphed into something pulsing in his chest that he didn’t understand, and didn't fucking want to. Making Her instant noodles and not killing her when she lied to him for fun or called him “Pretty Boy” was as far as Ben would bend.

It had been mostly radio silence from the Boys, though Butcher and Cocksucker had visited two days after they’d dropped Her and Ben back at the safe house, as Cocksucker had managed to break his arm. There had been a long, incredibly boring and poorly told story as to how the injury had occurred, involving a supe, Nikola Tesla and something called a Cybertruck, but Ben had pretty much tuned out the entire fucking conversation once he realized they weren’t here for him at all. The only thing that had kept him from retreating to his room for the duration of the visit was the small falter in Her heart when she touched Cocksucker, her jaw clenched as Ben and Butcher watched Cocksucker’s arm heal into place in a fucking disgusting manner.

When She’d let go, she’d given Ben a weird fucking look with tight lips and sad eyes that he'd only seen before on Cocksucker. It had passed quickly, her face returning to apathetic and bored, her eyes regaining the sharp amusement they usually held, but fuck it had confused him. She and Butcher had started talking about missions and planning and other mind-numbing shit, Cocksucker shaking out his arm as if he didn’t trust that it was healed, and Ben had needed to piss and gone to do just that. Before he’d left, he’d caught Her a look of where the hell are you’d going, he’d grinned back with a wink of why, you want to join me?, and she’d rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Butcher. When he’d returned, Butcher and Cocksucker had left and She was glaring at him, arms across her chest.

“Are you an idiot, or just a dick?” She’d snapped.

He’d frowned at Her, trying to figure out what had made her all fucking bitchy. As far as Ben was concerned, he’d been fucking amazing, only calling Butcher a pussy twice and managing to refrain from talking to Cocksucker at all. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Butcher told me we’re moving on operation Quick and Bald soon. He told me you knew. Why didn’t you fucking tell me?!”

“Oh,” Ben had rolled his eyes. “I forgot.”

“You forgot?”

He’d shrugged. “Well, you fucking know now, so get over it. And what kind of fucking shit codename is Quick and Bald?”

“Fuck you, it’s an accurate and descriptive name.”

“How the fuck could that be ‘accurate and descriptive’?”

“Because two key factors of this phase of my plan are the quick and the bald.”

“Your plan?”

“Yeah, my fucking plan. That I fucking deserved to know the status of.” She’d scowled. “Butcher says it’s almost ready. He’ll get us in two days once it’s in place.”

That had been five days ago. Starlight and Cocksucker had dropped in after two days, full of apologies and updates that Ben didn’t give a fuck about, and when he’d asked Her for more information about the plan, she’d told him to “suck her dick and shove his questions up his ass until they reached his brain.”

So Ben still had no fucking clue what Quick and Bald was about.

Aside from Her lingering anger at him for apparently having the fucking nerve to ask questions about the jobs he had to do—an opinion he had made the mistake of voicing, leading the unwelcome lesson on the first amendment—She was being impossibly easy to talk to, and Ben was getting dangerously close to not only enjoying her company, but finding her comfortable. Part of him was hoping she’d say something very, very soon that would allow him to grip onto hatred, or at least indifference, for the rest of his time in this stupid fucking situation.

Instead, in a way that made Ben think God himself was out to fucking get him, he’d started to tell her things. Fucking voluntarily.

One of those nights where sleep had gripped his head and pulled him under, struggling and roaring, he’d woken up once more from only the force and sting of her hand across his face. She’d sat next to him again, and he’d asked her more questions about before, all of which she’d answered with a faraway, insufferably sad look in her eyes.

“How many siblings did you fucking have again?” He’d pressed once.

“Four,” She’d responded, a wistful smile on her face. “Two brothers, two sisters. All younger.”

“Your parents had four more kids after you? What, were you that fucking annoying they needed to try again four fucking times?”

“No, I was just so adorable they needed to try and recreate my perfection. Once they realized that was impossible, they gave up.” She’d smirked, and Ben hated that somehow he didn’t doubt her words. “Well,” she’d mused to herself. “That and they fell violently out of love with each other.”

“Violently?” He’d made a face, and she’d nodded solemnly.

“I shielded my siblings from a lot of flying plates.”

Ben found another thing to hate. Her parents, and how fucking sad she looked. “You miss them?”

“My parents?” She’d snorted. “I miss my dad. I hope my mom gets her head popped.”

He’d coughed to cover a laugh. “No, you fucking smartass. Your siblings.”

Her answer was quick and soft. “Every fucking day.”

Ben had grunted, watching the distance return to her face, and before he could stop himself, he was talking. “I didn’t have any siblings.”

Before he could curse himself out and try to distract Her with something else, she had been looking back at him with wide, focused eyes. “Do you wish you did?”

“I never thought about it,” he’d muttered. “My father was such a fucking dick I’m surprised he even got my mother to marry him, let alone fucking have one kid. I think he hated me enough to never fucking risk it again.”

“Risk it?” She’d kept her voice impossibly gentle as she’d asked, and it made his skin crawl all weird.

“I was the biggest fucking regret of his life. If he could go back and stop me from happening in the first place, make my mother flush me out, he wouldn’t have fucking hesitated.”

She’d paused, and a very fucking stupid part of Ben had thought she was going to let the conversation go. Of course, he should’ve fucking known by now that She damn well wouldn’t.

“What was your mom like?”

He hadn’t fucking expected that, and it had shocked him enough to answer. “Kind. Too kind for my father, he saw it as fucking weakness and told her all the fucking time. But she was so fucking kind.” He took a heavy breath. “She was full of love, and I have no fucking clue how. It was fucking stupid, all her love, even for my piece of shit father. He’d yell at her and threaten her and mock her, but she still fucking loved him. She fucking loved everything.”

Her voice was still gentle from beside him. “Like what?”

“Animals. Cats specifically. My father had all these fucking hunting dogs he loved more than anything, certainly more than me, and the only good thing he ever fucking did was trade one to get her a cat. It was massive, fluffy and gray, and it was a fucking asshole to everyone but her. It ate like a fucking elephant, shed like a whore in summer, but she loved it so fucking much.” At this point Ben had really wished he would shut the fuck up, but he couldn’t, and he was going to have to figure out a way to blame Her for that later. “She loved art. Painting. She tried to get me to love it too, even though I could barely draw a fucking worm. But I’d try, and she’d frame all my stupid, shitty drawings and hang them around the house until my father saw them and threw them in the trash. She loved music but couldn’t carry a tune if her life fucking depended on it. They’d go to the opera because my father would donate a ton for the publicity, and she’d come back all damn giddy. I’d wait up, just because she was fucking contagious when she was that happy. Even my father felt it, enough to just go straight to bed and not kick my ass for still being awake. She was fucking smart, too. Real fucking smart. My father would joke he wished she was a man, because then her brain would be useful. She would’ve fucking jumped for joy if she saw the world now. Met a fucking woman doctor.” He paused, looking back down at Her beside him. She hadn’t looked away from him, and there was none of the pity he’d expected to see on her face. It was just open, listening intently to his words with no malice or trickery behind her eyes.

“She sounds amazing.” She’d said softly, a small smile he didn’t understand on her face. “And your dad sounds like a fucking cunt.”

Ben had chuckled in surprise. “Fucking understatement of the damn year, Sunshine. That pussy would’ve tried to pry your degree from your fucking hands.”

“Let him try, I’d burn his fucking face off and laugh while I did it.”

“What were you even going to fucking do with a PhD in archeology?" He’d asked, and she’d huffed a small laugh.

“Anthropology, Pretty Boy. But nice guess.” She corrected. “And I’m honestly not sure. I’d quite literarily only just actually received the degree before everything… changed.” She’d sighed. “I had a few job offers, but mostly in academia and business. What I wanted was to work with nonprofits to help people.”

“Help people?” He’d given her a disbelieving stare. “With a prissy fucking degree?”

“Yeah, dickwad. Help people. I was a cultural anthropologist. I specialized in the evolution of cultures and ways to combat systemic cultural oppression.”

He’d stared at Her blankly. “You’re going to have to take down the fucking fancy talk by seven, Sunshine.”

“I studied how the government and culture is mean to people on purpose, and how to make them stop being mean.” She’d said flatly.

“Oh.” He’d rolled his eyes at the dirty look she was giving him. “Oh, fuck off. It wasn’t that painful to say.”

“Yes, it was.” She’d mumbled, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’re not going to argue with me?”

“What’s there to fucking argue about?”

“I just called your beloved country an ‘oppressive system’.” She’d watched him wearily, but her heart remained steady. “Doesn’t it mar your refined American nationalism?”

“Do you fucking want me to be mad?” Ben had asked, raising his brows at her. “I can definitely find it in me, that’s not a fucking issue. But usually when we fight about this shit, you get all bitchy and don’t talk to me for way too fucking long.”

“I mean, no, I don’t want you to get mad…” She’d frowned, examining him with yet another fucking confusing look. “Does it really bother you when I ignore you?”

“No.” He’d snapped quickly. “It’s just annoying, and I don’t like having to fucking deal with it.”

She’d hummed with an amused smile on her face, and the conversation had moved on to something else. Ben had shoved down the way it had been so easy to talk about his mother with her, until it was somewhere in his gut and he didn’t have to think about the way the feeling rolled around inside him.

And he refused to even acknowledge how when She would smile now, he’d have to fight himself to not do the same.

———-

It had been a week since the Sage incident, a week since Ben had saved your life—you'd locked everything about that particular action from what you thought of it to how it made you feel somewhere deep in your chest—and you were starting to lose your mind a little bit. When Annie and Hughie had stopped by with nervous words about delays in your meticulously prepared and incredibly well-detailed plan, you’d been willing to wait another day, maybe two, before executing operation Quick and Bald. Now it had been three days, burgeoning on four, and you were worryingly close to leaving the safe house just to yell at Butcher. Ben could stay here, or follow you and help you beat Butcher up for all you cared. Which was, admittedly, worrying within itself. Especially because the whole point of operation Quick and Bald was to take preventative measures against Ben’s needless brutality.

Over a month ago, right after you’d moved into the safe house and when you had been ready to throttle Ben’s neck every waking moment—an urge that hadn’t entirely waned, but was now undercut with a weirder, stronger urge to be near him without any murderous intent—you’d spent the hours quarantined in your room perfecting your plan to get Ryan Butcher the fuck out of dodge. When they’d come to pick you and Ben up for the whole Neuman test, you’d left it in the van for Butcher to find, and had been waiting since for him to set up the dominoes so you could knock them over.

At this point, you’d be happy with not even “dominos to knock over” and just “one singular domino to throw at someone." You had begun to develop a habit of staring down the hall from the living room, trying to will someone to appear with at least a fucking update. So far this strategy was not working, and had apparently started to garner attention.

Sitting on the couch, the TV white noise in the background and noodles in your hand cold and forgotten, you felt a foreign rush of oddly tight concern run through your body. You frowned, heard your name from next to you, and turned to find that Ben had been poking your arm.

“Are you fucking alive?” He grunted, watching you with a frown.

“Literally? Yes.” You answered with a tight smile. “You have noodles on your face.”

He reached up to feel for them, not looking away from you. “What the fuck do you mean literally? How can you be fucking metaphorically alive?”

“Mind-body problem, Pretty Boy. And it’s not metaphorically, it’s philosophically.” You lean back, grinning.

“You’re a real fucking pretentious bitch sometimes.” He grumbled, still trying to find the food stuck to his beard.

“If you made me a shirt that said that, I’d wear it.”

“I’m not going to fucking make you a shirt, Sunshine. You couldn’t make me learn to fucking sow with a gun to my head.”

“Because the gun wouldn’t affect you at all?” You pointed to your own chin, mirroring where the noodle was caught.

He sneered. “Because I’m not a pussy.” His hand found the stray piece of his dinner, and he pulled it from his jaw.

“Big words from the man who took two tries to make me instant ramen- hey!” A wet noodle hits you in the face.

“Ramen your ungrateful ass didn’t even fucking eat.” Ben gave a pointed look at the abandoned cup in your hands, the food inside having long lost any heat. “Don’t fucking test me, or I’ll actually spit in your food next time.”

“Drama queen,” you muttered, peeking back at the door. “Like you don’t already do that.”

“I fight the urge to be a fucking bitch, unlike certain women.”

You nod absentmindedly. “Butcher.”

Ben snorted behind you, and a smile you hoped he didn’t see crept onto your face.

“Yeah, sure Sunshine.” His attention returned to the TV, and you did your best to not stare down the hall, trying to ignore the hope that the door now shrouded in darkness would open.

A successful effort that made you jump out of your seat when it did just that with an aggressive bang.

Ben was faster than you, practically launching himself over the sofa and bolting down the hall, a dangerous look of alarm the last thing you saw on his face before he was gone from the room.

“Shit, no! It’s me!” You heard a high-pitched shout from the shadows of the entrance. “It’s Hughie!”

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You heard Ben’s growl of a response.

Butcher’s voice drawled from the shadows. “Oi, take a deep fucking breath and put the bloody kid down.”

“Someone fucking answer me first.”

“Put him down, Soldier Boy, before we knock your ancient ass the fuck out.” The impatient, clipped words of MM responded, almost drowned out by Frenchie's shout.

“Can someone turn on the fucking lights? It is as dark as Monsieur Butcher’s heart and asshole!”

“I- I don’t feel good.” Hughie’s voice stuttered.

“Ben!” You flicked on the hallway sconces, illuminating a scene of Ben’s full body weight pressing Hughie to the wall, Butcher and MM trying with practically negative success to pry him off, and Kimiko gripping one of Frenchie’s arms as his other groped around for direction. You let out a very long, very loud sigh. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“It’s fucking late,” he snapped, not letting Hughie go. “They shouldn’t be here so fucking late.”

“This ain’t your real house, Mate.” Butcher grunted, still trying to move Ben. “We can be here whenever we bloody well please.”

Hughie wheezed out your name in a pleading tone. “Your plan is ready. We’re here to- fuck- we’re here to get you.”

That got you moving, crossing to the end of the hall in quick, frantic steps. “It’s ready? Are you sure?” Hughie gave a weak nod, and you rolled your eyes, shoving Ben shoulder. “Put him down, dumbass. He’s not a threat, and honestly, probably the worst one to have gone after. Just, like, strategically.”

Ben glared at you, but let go. He glanced at where MM and Butcher were still grabbing him, and gave them a venomous look that got them both to let go and take hasty steps back. He shot a glowering look of they could’ve fucking waited until the morning in your direction.

You wrinkled your nose at him. No. Shut the fuck up. You turned to Hughie, not even bothering to hide the desperation you felt in your imploring stare. “It’s all ready? All of it? A-Train agreed to help? We’re sure Ashley has the information? We’re sure neither one is going to tell Homelander, and we’re not about to walk into a fucking trap?”

“Yes, yes, yes, kind of, and yes.” Butcher counted off on his fingers as he answered. “But we’ve got to go right fucking now.”

“Kind of?” Anxious energy rushed through you—that still-strange feeling lighting under your skin—and you ignored the weird look Ben shot you as it did. “What do you mean, kind of? If you fucked this up, Butcher, I swear to God-"

“Calm the fuck down, Love.” Butcher snapped. “It’s going to be fine, we’ll explain on the way. But we need to go fucking now if you want this to work.”

You gave a sharp nod, starting to pull on your boot, glancing up with a pause when you heard Hughie say your name behind you.

“Do you, uh, do you want to get dressed first?” His voice was still slightly weak as he recovered from Ben’s force.

You glanced down at your body, and decided that the oversized shirt and cloth shorts would be fine. They were from the CIA spring fire-proof collection, and that was more than enough. “Nope. Let’s fucking move.”

You were halfway to the door when a crash sounded behind you, and you whirled around to see MM firmly blocking Ben’s path, the crash seeming to have been Hughie stumbling into the wall in an attempt to get away from the standoff.

“You’re not coming, Soldier Boy. This is a goddamn delicate operation, and you’re the fucking reason we have to do it in the first place. We can’t afford you throwing a tantrum and screwing us.”

“I’m fucking coming, and it’s not up for fucking debate.”

Off to the side, Frenchie snickered as Kimiko signed how many times do you think he’s said that before?

Ben shot them an annoyed look, his fists clenching. “What’s so fucking funny?”

“Nothing,” Frenchie snickered, and his tone was so remarkably unconvincing that even if you hadn’t understood Kimiko, you wouldn’t have believed him.

Ben grunted and tried to move past MM, again to no avail.

He glared down at the firmly planted man, a familiar violent glint in his eyes. “You better fucking move now, before I make you.”

“Do your fucking worst, we’ll put you right back in the box. You’re not coming with us.”

“MM,” you said firmly, watching Ben's fists clench as the dangerous glint returns to his eyes. “We need to go.”

MM looks back at you, but remains in his place. “Are you fucking serious? You’re siding with him?”

“I’m not siding with him.” You keep your voice level, ignoring Ben’s smug face and grin. “We can’t leave him. The I go where he goes thing unfortunately goes both ways.”

“The safe house will hold him for five hours.” MM pushed, and before you could even shake your head, Ben cut in.=

"No, it won’t.”

You shoot him a look that says you’re being unhelpful, and he just returns it with his own of fuck off, you know you fucking want me there.

“Please, MM. He’ll stay quiet in the background, or I’ll burn his dick off. Right?” You direct your last words at Ben, giving him a pointed agree with me or I’m knocking you out and leaving you here look.

“Yeah, whatever. But I’m not staying in the fucking van like a pussy. And you’d better explain what the fuck is happening on the way, Sunshine.”

“Deal. But first they,” You narrowed your eyes at Butcher. “Have some explaining of their own to do.”

“Don’t lose your bloody mind, Love, it’s all in order.” Butcher said breezily, shoving past you to open the door. He gave a dramatic wave of his arm for you to exit, and with a look of doubt, you did.

The car ride was already poised to be uncomfortable. Butcher’s car was not equipped for seven people, let alone seven people where three were very large men, three were supes, and nobody wanted to have physical contact with two. As such, Butcher drove, MM sat in the front, you found yourself squished against one window with Ben between you and a remarkably uncomfortable Hughie, as Kimiko sat, slightly elevated onto their laps, between Frenchie at the other window, and Hughie. It was overall an unideal situation, made worse as your own frustration was amplified by Ben’s, and by Hughie revealing that it was, in fact, not all in order.

Your phase one, the original operation Quick and Bald had called for Ashley Barrett’s complete cooperation. You’d even painstakingly outlined all the potential ways to flip her—most involving something along the lines of hey, wouldn’t a job that didn’t make you so stressed you rip out all your hair and have to buy a bunch of wigs be nice?—and different ways to keep Homelander from finding out about her betrayal—Spain was lovely this time of year, and had a thriving BDSM community Ashley would love. While MM had managed to take care of your instructions for A-Train, the half of the plan you’d incorrectly anticipated to be more difficult, the Ashley situation was, in Butcher’s words, very fucking delicate, but we’ve adapted and everything will be bloody fine, so trust me and don’t be a fucking cunt about it.

You did not trust him. I didn’t help that you’d asked for any other possible details, and he’d pretended he couldn’t hear you. This suspicion was confirmed when, despite your incredible clarity that you would never step foot there again, Butcher seemed to be driving right to Vought Tower.

Your eyes had been steadily widening, panic starting to run through you the closer and closer you got, and you flinched when you felt Ben’s roughly shoulder nudge your own.

“What’s fucking wrong with you?” He’d asked in a low voice, barely audible over Hughie’s rambling explanation.

“You should listen,” you mutter back, trying to shut out the confusing concern he always seemed to feel at you, how it felt remarkably genuine, but was laced with anger that felt like it was trying to push out of your body. “Hughie’s explaining the plan.”

“Yeah, but all I have to fucking do is stay quiet, and I get to keep my dick. You’re being fucking twitchy and silent, and your heart is beating faster than it has all damn day, so don’t even try to fucking lie and tell me it’s fine.”

“It is fine, I’m fine-“ You paused as his words sank in. “Wait, what do you mean my heart-“

“Alright, here we go.” Butcher cut off both you and Hughie with a clap of his hands. “Everyone bloody out, let’s get this shitshow on the road.”

“Butcher,” you said, looking around to see you’d parked directly across from the tower entrance. “What the fuck are we doing here?”

“We’re meeting them right there.” MM answered for Butcher, pointing out of his window to something you couldn’t see. “It’s almost midnight, and Annie’s been making sure nobody gets inside but us.”

“But why?” You protest, even as MM leaves the car. “This,” you give a wide, general wave that hits Ben in the nose. “Cannot be the only option.”

“Both of them still have their trackers,” Hughie leans forward with an apologetic look as Frenchie and Kimiko exit the car. “This will look like they’re just getting a midnight snack, and hopefully Homelander won’t get suspicious.”

“Hopefully?!” You feel a rush of anger—not yours—and a twist of fear deep within your gut—absolutely yours. “Hopefully fucking Homelander won’t get suspicious?!”

Hughie gave an uncertain nod before very quickly scrambling to get out of the car. You take a long, deep breath, trying to steel yourself. A rush of what was becoming a familiar fuming and brittle concern ran through you. You look at Ben, to find his eyes locked firmly onto yours.

“Sorry about hitting-“

“I know how to hot-wire a car.”

You blink at him, taken aback by the firmness of his voice. “What?”

His hand moved to grip your thigh, his gaze not wavering. “I know how to hot-wire a car.”

You give him a flat look. “Yeah, I heard you the first time. Why are you telling me that?”

His frustration leaked into you. “Because say the word, I’ll steal Butcher’s car, and we’ll fucking leave.”

“What? Are you insane?”

“You look like you’re either going to start fucking crying or burst into flames, and this is a stupid fucking idea.”

“This was my plan.” You snap. “And I’m not stealing Butcher’s car. Why do you even know how to hot-wire a car anyway?”

Ben’s grip tightened. “No, your plan was stupidly well fucking thought out.”

“That’s an oxymoron.” You mutter, and he ignores you.

“And even if they haven’t completely fucking blown the execution, they completely squashed any chance of safety.”

“It’ll be fine,” you say, the words sounding fake even as you say them. “It’s late. He’s probably asleep.”

“What if he’s not?” His concern was starting to move to your throat, and there was something else, something sitting far deeper in your chest, beating and beating against you. Against you.

“Ben.” You place your hand over his. “I’ve worked too hard on this. This is the only way, and it will be fine.” You say the last words firmly and clearly, trying to make them sink into you. “Now take your fucking hand off of me, and get out of the damn car.”

He pulls himself from you, and even as his touch leaves, the concern and beat linger until he’s gone from the car. You drag yourself across the seats and ignore Hughie’s offer of a hand as you duck out of the car and onto the curb. You notice the 24 hour diner MM must have been pointing out almost immediately, half because—aside from an incredibly sketchy looking deli a few doors down—it’s the only building with its lights still on, and half because two very flustered teenagers are sulking away from the entrance, where Annie stands with her arms crossed. She’s already spotted your group, and has angeled her head in a signal to join her.

“You’re late.” She chides as you approach.

“Well, Starlight, I’d apologize, but it was those two fuckheads,” Ben and MM both receive a jabbed thumb over Butcher’s shoulder. “Who decided to draw out the bloody carpool process.”

“I told you not to call me Starlight anymore, Butcher.” Annie snaps, not giving him a chance to respond before she turns to you. “A-Train is, somehow, running behind as well. Hopefully Ashley’s just being resistant to getting food with him, but they’ll be here.”

“Isn’t running that pussy’s whole fucking thing?” Ben muttered, quiet enough for only you to hear. You step as hard as you can on his foot.

“Shut it, Pretty Boy.” You whisper over his grunt of what probably is more emotional pain than physical.

“Bitch.” He hisses back.

“Cunt.” You raise your voice so the others can hear you. “We should go inside, it’s risky to just… stand here.”

With nervous looks around and stuttered agreements, you all make your way into the diner. The lights are flickering, and it’s eerily empty with only a very nervous-looking blonde waitress at the counter. She makes a very big show of asking how many are in your party, leading you to a large, round table, and laying out the menus with shaky hands. Kimiko, Hughie, Annie, and MM try and offer her comforting smiles, though MM’s is strained as he keeps a vigilant glare on Ben. The waitress is staring at Ben herself, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, glacing back as she leaves to get your and Butcher’s coffee, Annie and MM’s tea, Kimiko and Hughie’s milkshakes, and Ben and Frenchie’s orders of “the strongest alcohol you’ve fucking got.” Your personal bet was it was going to just be very old beer.

“Why is she fucking staring at me?” Ben muttered to you, watching the waitress as she walked away. “Did you fuck up my beard that bad?”

“Your beard looks literally the same.” You dismiss. “And it’s because, as far as the public knows, Maeve killed you in a heroic act of self-sacrifice to stop your evil, anti-American attacks. That, or she wants to fuck you.”

“Hm,” he looks back at you, settling down into his seat. “Am I allowed to bring guests into the safe house?”

“No.” You say, a little more curtly than you intended. Seeing his wide, cocky grin, you clairfy. “It’s a breach of security. She would need to pass a CIA vetting and be approved by, like, twenty people. I don’t think she’d do that just to fuck you.”

Ben shrugs, his smirk only growing. “You did.”

“I’m going to cut off your balls and feed them to you-“

“Hey,” MM cuts you off, saying your name in a brisk, hard tone from across the table. “They’re here.”

You snap your head to the door, where A-Train is practically pushing Ashley into the diner.

You hear her voice clearly over the recession pop humming from the speakers. “Why can’t we just go to the fucking deli? They make these amazing meatball subs and supes eat free, so you could order for both of us- oh fuck no.”

“Oh, shit.” MM mutters, jumping to his feet with Butcher and Annie as Ashley notices them, and promptly tries to dash for the exit.

You don’t entirely blame her. You’d probably do the same. You had done the same, an unhelpful voice reminds you.

“I- Am- Not-“ Ashley is trying to get past A-Train, who hasn’t given up trying to herd her further into the diner. “Fuck- this-“

“Ashley, just listen to them, I fucking swear-“

“Why should I trust you?!” Ashley doubles over, out of breath. “You fucking tricked me! Midnight snack my fucking ass- Fuck no!” She raises a crooked finger at Annie, who has stopped in front of her. “Get the fuck away from me, you bitch.”

“Ashley, please listen to A-Train-“

“No! Just leave me the fuck alone! I don’t want to be a part of your weird fucking eye for an eye justice shit-“

“You kind of already are.” MM says as he locks the door behind her. “You work for Vought, your it’s motherfucking CEO. That makes you a part of this, like it or not.”

“Not!” Ashley shouts. “I don’t care what you have to say! Homelander’s going to fucking kill me, oh my god.” She starts to hyperventilate. “If he finds out I was here, he’ll kill you-“ She points a shaky finger at A-Train. “And then make me go on fucking TV to explain why you’re missing, and then fucking kill me-“

Butcher scoffs. “Bloody hell, lady. Calm the fuck down, Homelander ain’t gonna find out.”

“You don’t know that!” She shrieked. “He knows fucking everything! Especially since fucking Sage joined!” She spins around frantically, and her wild eyes lock onto yours. “He knows about them!” A shaking finger jumps between you and Ben. “Fuck! He’s supposed to be fucking asleep and now he’s fucking not! And he was so fucking angry about her, I’ve never seen him so fucking angry-“

Whatever else Ashley stutters about Homelander’s anger is lost to you as the world freezes. The feeling isn’t just under your skin, it’s up your spine, in your blood, circling around your brain. It’s fucking everywhere and you can’t fucking breathe, her words looping around you.

He knows. He’s angry. He fucking knows. He’s fucking angry. He fucking knows and he’s fucking angry and he fucking knows and he’s fucking angry and-

A white hot, impossibly calm feeling crashes over you. It’s angry, hungry and angry, but it’s grounding, sharpening everything around you. Suddenly the world is back in complete focus, Ashley’s shrill rambling scraping at your ears, and in the distance that weird fucking rhythm is sounding. As the feeling in your body returns fully, you realize Ben’s hand is back on your thigh. You bounce it, looking up to give him a glare, and find he’s not even looking at you. Instead, his eyes are trained on Ashley, narrowed and cold. You give a small cough, and when he glances down at you, the feeling of anger stutters with something lighter, though only for a second.

You give another bounce of your leg, a look of move your damn hand or lose it taking over your face.

No, not until you calm the fuck down his scowl responds.

You huff, standing abruptly, and his hand falls off at the force of your movement. Suddenly you feel a lot less solid, but reason that your legs are shaky from the Homelander of it all, and if any situation calls for fractured nerves, it’s this one.

“Ashley.” You call across the diner, trying not to stutter or chew off your lip as her protests falters and attention turns to you. “If you know who I am, you know I wouldn’t be anywhere near here if we weren’t certain it was safe. Just have some food with us, listen, and then you can go.”

Ashley gives you a scowl that might surpass Ben’s but nods tightly, yanking her arm from where A-Train had been trying to hold her in place. You sit back down as the group at the door returns to their seats, the poor waitress pressing herself against the bar as they pass. Letting out a shaky, unsteady breath, you try and still yourself as you look out the diner window. City lights. Music.

City lights.

Music.

It was safe. He knows and he’s angry but was safe and there were city lights and music.

Your breathing was no longer coming in short, distressed bursts, but getting air in and out of yourself still felt like an act of labor, and you needed to get it the fuck together before Ashley sat down.

City lights. Music.

You can’t hear the song the diner is playing, instead letting your whole mind turn inward, allowing the ghost of music you can no longer sing to wash over you.

Ashley sits across from you right when you regain control, and from the corner of your eye, you see Ben pulling his hand from where it had been inching towards yours.

Her eyes flit, nerves poorly hidden, from you to Ben to Butcher to Annie and back to you, and her voice is high and shaky when she speaks. “Well?”

“Ashley, we need your help.” Annie leans forward, palms flat on the table.

“Well, then we’re done. I can’t help you. They don’t tell me anything, not really.” Ashley tries to stand, but her arm is caught by A-Train. “Really?” A-Train hisses as he pulls her back into her seat beside him. “They don’t tell you anything my ass, we sit in on all the same meetings. And I pulled these files-“ He pulls out a thumb drive from absolutely nowhere and drops it on the table. “Using your name, so you clearly have access to them.”

“What?!” Ashley looks at the thumb drive like it’s going to either explode or start jizzing on her blouse. “Why would you fucking do that?”

“Insurance.” A-Train answers smugly, the thumbdrive clearly having his intended. “I can’t open it, so you’re going to tell them how, and then I’ll erase the records of you taking the files from the system.”

Ashley looks around at your group, shaking her head. “No.”

“Sorry, Mate. We ain’t really asking.” Butcher leans across A-Train, shoving the thumb drive closer to Ashley. “Do us this solid, and A-Train won’t go right up to Homelander and tell him about how he saw you also cuddly and tight with me, Soldier Boy, and his favorite missing person.”

Your heart jumps right into your throat. City lights. Music.

Suddenly, Ben’s elbow is planted against yours, and you’re pulled back down to earth just in time to hear Ashley yell, “This is fucking blackmail! I’ll fucking sue!”

“You cannot sue government officials, madame.” Frenchie says smugly, and Hughie shakes his head.

“That’s- Frenchie, that’s not even kind of true.”

“You’re also not a government official.” Annie adds.

Frenchie looks genuinely perplexed at this and gives Kimiko a confused frown, receiving a shrug in return.

“But,” you pipe up, your voice somehow bored and casual. “I’m legally dead. He’s-“ You jab Ben in the chest, and Ashley’s eyes widen. “Legally dead and an enemy of the state. You can’t sue either of us, not without admitting some Vought secrets that will be very bad PR.” You give her a twisted smile, leering across the table. “Help us, or, even if Homelander believes you, which we both know he won’t, you’ll get fired. And I’m sure they’ll be very understanding and normal about how they do it.”

You feel a flash of weird pride and realize you can see Ben fighting a smile in your periphery.

Ashley has a fearful expression, looking at where your elbow is still connected with Ben’s. “What- what's even on it?”

“Becca Butcher files.” You say, not taking your gaze from her, but you didn’t need to look around to see the sudden, rigidness with which everyone sat. You even felt Ben’s own shock run through you.

You’d be lying if you said hiding the exact contents of the file hadn’t been a very purposeful choice that you and Butcher had made. He’d cornered you, demanding to know what you planned on doing should Soldier Boy go after Ryan, and you’d told him that it wouldn’t be an issue. Ryan looked up to Homelander, that was why he stayed. He’d lost his mother, he didn’t trust Butcher, all the poor kid had was his insane, sociopathic father. Some part of you—small and sad and tired, still sitting on a staircase in Boston—understood that. But with Becca gone, gone forever, Ryan didn’t have a place to run like you’d had. Homelander was the default, and just kind enough to his son that Ryan could force himself to forgive Homelander again and again. Homelander was safe for Ryan.

You were going to make sure Ryan never saw Homelander as safe again. And that started with Becca Butcher and would end with you. So you and Butcher had agreed with a tight handshaked that he'd ripped his hand from right after, everyone was only going to know what they needed to. That was the only way it would work.

“Becca Butcher files?” MM repeats in a slow, incredulous tone. “You,” he turns with a look of shock to Butcher. “You knew about this? You’re fuckin okay with this?”

“I’m doing what has to be done, Mate.” Butcher answers flatly, then says your name. “Tell ‘em the plan, Love.”

“We need to get Ryan away from Homelander. Ryan needs to know about his mother.”

“No,” Ashley was emerging from the shock to try and stand from the table, but A-Train’s arm shot out, pulling her back down once more. “No,” she says again, looking around desperately. “Ryan, Ryan is all he has. All he cares about. You take Ryan he’ll lose his mind-“

“He’s already lost his mind.” Something snaps in your chest—a cruel feeling waking up as you watch Ashley fret about Homelander. “And I couldn’t give less fucks about what he cares about.” The feeling is crawling across your skin. “If this hurts him, good. It could never hurt him enough to make it right.” You hear drums and still can’t place where they’re coming from. “Now listen to the last fucking strand of your morality on your scalp and fucking help us.”

Ashley shakes her head again, this time with less certainty. “It’s- no- He-“ she pulls in a deep, unsteady breath. “He won’t stop until he gets Ryan back. He already is going insane about you and him and how he needs to get you back safe and put him back down, and if Ryan goes to then nothing will stop him-“

The drums are loud now, and something that’s usually there on Ben’s face is missing. Your own body doesn’t feel entirely normal anymore, but it’s not paralyzed or running. You can feel something in Ben caving, falling inward in a growing rhythm, moving in time as something in you grows. It's not in you now, it’s across you, coating your skin and singing with glee.

“Ashley,” the sound of your voice is a little far away, but you can hear it echo through you. It’s wired, hot, a warning.

“I- I can’t.”

“Yes, you fucking can.” You sneer. “You’re just too much of a pussy to do it.” Ben coughs in the way that you know means he wants to laugh, just as the drums stutter and move farther away.

“Please, I don’t-“

“Do not make me stab you.”

Ashley falters, looking you up and down. “You won’t.”

“Trust me, she will.” Ben smirks, giving you a nudge. “She’s surprisingly violent.”

“I, I won’t. I can’t. He’ll kill me-“

“You think we won’t?” Ben growls, any amusement in him gone as you feel something unbreakable and resolved through your body.

Ashley tries to run again, this time actually managing to get up from the table, but is knocked flat on her ass by A-Train before she can take two steps. You stand and give the itch, now under your tongue and your nails, a small scratch.

“Oh, fuck no.” You hear scrambling as you walk around the table and stop, staring down at Ashley.

She’s crawling back from you, back from the fire curling from your whole body, and disgust curls in your gut. For the first time you feel anger—insatiable and gory anger—all of your own. No city lights flash around you, no hollow music dances around your head. You don’t fear Ashley. She’s weak and spineless. She’s willing to cover her hands in Ryan’s blood, in your blood, to keep herself safe from Homelander. She’s staring at you, terrified, and you don’t need to touch her to know it isn’t even a fraction of all the fear you felt in that white room. That white room she knows about, may have seen, and is still trying to keep Homelander happy.

You bend down, letting all your hatred for Vought, for her, cover your features. When you speak, your words are clear and low.

“You are going to tell Butcher how to access the thumbdrive. A-Train and you are going to take some food with you, and walk back to the tower. You aren’t going to tell Homelander about this, and if he asks, offer him some leftovers. A-Train will erase your activity from the files, and you’re going to pretend the whole night never happened. If you tell Homelander about either me or Be-“ You correct yourself smoothly. “Soldier Boy, the last thing I will do before he locks me away again is kill you. Do I make myself clear?”

Ashley nods frantically, flinching when you raise your hand.

“Say it. Say that I made myself clear.”

“You-“ Ashley stutters, hiccuping. “You made yourself clear.”

You draw yourself back up. “Good. Butcher, I’m leaving. You can drive me and come back, or Ben can steal your car, but I’m leaving.”

When you turn, when you see the looks on your team’s face, all the anger is gone, and suddenly there is a crushing, painful weight of shame on your chest. They’re looking at you like Ashley had been, like you’re no better than Homelander. Like maybe you should go back in the room, it would be safer for them, it would be safer for everyone if you were far, far away-

“You heard the lady.” Ben is standing, walking around to your side. “It’s late. We’re leaving. Sunshine?” He offers you his arm, and you stare between it and your own, still covered in flame. Looking up, his face looks bored, as if this is just another Tuesday, and he offers his arm to women who are actively ablaze on a regular basis.

Your face feels slack, and all you can manage is to blink at him. I’ll burn you, Pretty Boy. It’ll hurt.

His brows subtly knit, and he doesn’t move. I’ll live, Sunshine. Don’t let them see you break. We’re going home.

You look back at your team, a wide circle of berth having formed around you and Ben. Butcher is looking between the two of you, and you recognize that glint in his eyes. You’d seen it before, but it’s only been really, truly directed at you once. In a graveyard in Boston, gravestones and bushes around you burning in the dead of winter, holding a bucket of ice that steamed off your skin. Under it, fear begins to creep back into you, exhaustion pushing it forward. Butcher reaches behind him, and your knees feel weak.

But you don’t fall. Zealous anger, strong and raw, spreads through you and Butcher’s movements still. You look down and find Ben’s arm unflinchingly looped through yours, his body at its full height as his eyes rake coldly over Butcher.

The silence hangs in the air, cut through only by Ashley’s quick, sobbed breaths. For a second you think the smoke seeping from you will overtake the room before anyone moves, but Butcher slowly reaches into his pockets, eyes not leaving Ben’s, and throws the keys at Hughie.

“Drop them off, Mate, then come right back. No bloody detours.”

Hughie stares at the keys, looking like he’s going to protest, but Kimiko grabs them before he can.

She turns to you, completely composed, no fear wavering as she locks your eyes with hers. I’ll take you.

Before you can thank her, Frenchie steps forward, signing as he speaks. “Mon Coeur, you cannot drive.”

She frowns. Yes I can.

“No, Mon Coeur, not legally.” Frenchie says, exasperated, and you have a feeling this is not first time they've had this debate.

Kimiko rolls her eyes at you. Fine. She signs back at Frenchie, throwing the keys at him. You’ll do it.

Frenchie stumbles as he catches them, giving Kimiko a shocked look, which she pretends not to see as she walks to the door, signing at you as she passes.

Let’s go before Butcher’s brain starts working.

A small smile threatens your face, and you move, tugging Ben’s arm only once before he falls into pace with you, Frenchie scrambling behind you both.

The car ride back feels longer. The moment you’d stepped out of the diner, your body had extinguished, and you had a worrying sense that the only thing keeping you from collapsing on the sidewalk was Ben’s arm firm through yours. No words were said for the entirety of the drive, you and Ben in the backseat as Frenchie drove and Kimiko lounged in shotgun, and your brain raced. Ben hadn’t let go, and the drums were fading in and out of your chest as he stared ahead into the night.

You arrived at the safe house, only a street lamp casting a dull glow across the street. The chill of the wind cutting against you as Kimiko walked you to the door, Frenchie mumbling something about keeping the car safe from Hooligans. Ben made to step inside, but halted, still not releasing your arm, as you stayed at the doorstep.

At his questioning glare, you tried to wiggle his arm from yours. “Go inside, Ben. I’ll be right there.”

He looked down at where he was still connected with you, and you felt reluctance in time with the drums, but he let go with a scowl. “Be fast,” he grunted, and stomped into the house.

You watched until he’d disappeared fully down the hall, turning to Kimiko only once his back was shrouded in the darkness of the house.

“Thank you,” you give her a soft smile, signing as you speak. “I- I don’t know what happened, I just-“

She shakes her head, and you trail off. I understand. I get angry too. She pauses, hands hovering for only a second. We are not like them. She points down the street, in the direction of the tower, and then past you, into the house. We get to be angry.

“I don’t want to be angry.” You say softly. “He wins when I get angry.”

Kimiko gives you a sad look, placing a hand on your arm. Her own frustration, her fear of Homelander, all the anger at the world, sinks into you. She holds your gaze for a second before drawing back to sign once more. He doesn’t win when you’re angry. He wins when you’re scared. You’re not Soldier Boy. Your anger is good.

You glance back into the house. “I think he- Ben- Soldier Boy- is scared. Or something. His emotions are really fucking confusing.”

You let him touch you. She signs. Does he know?

“He said he didn’t care, because he’s, and I quote, ‘not a pussy with something to hide’.”

But he’s scared? She gives you a questioning frown. Do you think it’s because of Russia? Could you fix it, like you offered for me?

“I’m not sure, but-“ you’re cut off as Frenchie honks the horn, leaning out the window.

“Mon Coeur!” His odd position makes his signing almost unintelligible, which he seems to realize, and raises his voice. “Monsieur Butcher says to get back ‘like a hare with a bomb up it’s arse'.”

Kimiko rolls her eyes at you, but signs a goodbye, giving your hand a small squeeze before returning to the car. As the engine rumbles, Frenchie pulling out the driveway, Kimiko’s calm faith lingers in you, and you walk back into the house, shutting the door behind you.

Almost all the lamps and ceiling lights of the house are off, the TV glowing from where you had abandoned it several hours ago. From the bottom of the stairs, you can see the upstairs hall is washed in a soft yellow, and when you reach the top Ben’s door is open, the light from within filling the hall. You stop at the entrance to his room, his back to you as he pulls a cotton shirt over his head.

You let out a small cough in a weak attempt to alert him to your presence.

“You’re allowed to just come in, Sunshine.” He grunts, still facing away. “I’m not a shy little virgin you need to pussyfoot around.”

You let out a small hum, walking over the threshold and stopping a few feet behind him. “Thank you.” You say softly, and he turns around to look at you.

His eyes are tired. Pained. Something looks like it’s pulling at him and it scares you. You’ve seen that expression before, when you’d woken him up that first day, at the Neuman mission, when you pulled him from nightmares with sharp hits, but never just there. It was always with something. This was like an island, just him and you, nothing pulling it out of him.

“Don’t thank me.” He says gruffly. Even his voice is drained. “You mostly held your own.”

“But-“

“And stop feeling bad about that Ashley bitch. She fucking deserved it.”

You stare at him. “You really believe that?”

He lets out a hollow laugh. “She was fucking pathetic. A fucking pussy. Fucking eating out Homelander’s fucking hand, brown-nosing him until he fucking cums and pays her, letting him take you-“ His jaw clenches. “I fucking meant it when I said we’re not going back Sunshine. I’m not a goddamn pussy liar.”

“I didn’t think you were. But, you…” Your voice fades as you try to find the words. “I could feel you. At the diner.”

“I fucking know, that was the goddamn point. I wasn’t going to let you start crying in front of those self-righteous pussies.”

“No, Ben.” You shake your head. “I could feel you. I could feel it.” You place a hand over your chest. “It was building. There was something beating against you, inside you. And you looked…” You watch him carefully. “Scared.”

“Fucking watch it.” He growls. “I don’t get fucking scared. I’m not-“

“A fucking pussy. I know.” You sigh. “I don’t want to, I can’t, fight right now. I’m so fucking tired. You can scream at me in the morning, but not right now, please.”

He stares at you, and just when you think he’s going to start yelling, he nods. “You’re…” He sounds strange. “You’re ok.”

Just like the last time he said it, the words aren’t phrased like a question. They don’t feel like a question. It feels like he’s just telling you again. But there’s something under it this time, something that makes his words almost unsure. Something that makes up your mind faster than you thought you would.

“Are you?” You ask quietly.

“Of course I fucking am.”

“Ben.” You tilt your head at him. “I’m going to tell you something, and I don’t want you to respond now.”

“You’re being fucking weird, Sunshine.”

“Please.”

He relents with a grunt. “Fucking fine. What.”

“I can fix it.” It’s so hard to keep his gaze as you speak. “It will take time, but I can fix it.”

“Fix what.” He scowls. “There’s nothing to fucking fix.”

“Your PTSD.”

“I don’t fucking have-“

“Ben, I could feel it. It’s dangerous. I could fix it.” You take a deep breath. “I can fix internal injuries as well. I offered to fix Kimiko’s muteness, but she didn’t want me to do it.”

“Then what fucking makes you think-“

“Muteness isn’t dangerous. And it would’ve been harder for me, I might have ended up mute myself. You’re dangerous like this. You can’t fucking control it, and don’t try and lie and say it’s under control. Ashley mentioned putting you back under, and you looked like someone was drowning you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sunshine.” He leers at you. “You don’t fucking know me, know what it was like-“

“I do. You know I do.” You whisper, and the anger on his face breaks. “More than anyone else, I know. I can fix it, but you’ll have to let me. Just-“ You search his eyes, not sure what you’re looking for. “Just think about it. I won’t mention it again, I won’t even touch you, but my offer will stay on the table. Please, just think about it.”

Before you can leave, he grabs your hand. A rush of painful exhaustion runs through you, and there’s anger, but it’s not full of the fervor you’ve come to expect from him. It’s not even at you. It’s wide and almost consuming, leaving room for only a small kernel of something fragile and warm.

“I don’t care if you keep touching me, Sunshine. I've go nothing to hide from you, and that’s not going to change. But there’s nothing in me you need to fucking fix, so don’t fucking bother.”

“I’m not trying to fix you, Ben,” You murmur. "But remember, you burn, I burn. Please don't burn." Your last words are soft, and the kernel pulses.

“Good,” he grunts, releasing your arm. A small smirk crawls onto his face. “Now I don’t care if it’s here or in your room, Sunshine, but you need to go the fuck to bed. You look like shit.”

Just as he says it, the full weight of your fatigue hits you. You give a mumbled acknowledgement of his words, and try to leave the room, but all the adrenaline is gone from your system and nothing is left to stop the failure of your legs or droop of your eyes. The last thing you feel is something pulling you up before your knees hit the carpet, the last thing you see is green eyes on your own, and you hear an amused snort from above you.

“Goodnight, Sunshine. Try not to dream about me.”

You try to object, but sleep pulls you under before you can even remember why you need to.

223 notes · View notes

frozenhi-chews · 1 month ago

Text

Happy Marriage to Pancake and Starlo!

May these two fine the happiness and laughter in the next chapter of their lives. Through thick and thin, sickness and health, they're gonna stick together. Especially after what they had gone through before this moment.

The whole town arrived. This is the sheriff getting married after all! So many people wasn't expecting him to get married, to Pancake no less! The rivalry was a big part of the town's history, being tied to North Star himself, and seeing them get closer and closer was fun and kinda crazy. The whole town knew, and Pancake is married to Starlo. Feisty Four are also happy that they're married. And a few bets had to be paid.

Now they're off to the next chapter in their lives. And they still stick to each other like velcro.

more stuff under cut, like a lovesick rambling by me.

I have no idea why this guy chose me. Like, at all. I look at him, and that's my husband. I feel so oddly connected to him, and I've said this before, but he is someone I genuinely wanna marry. Starlo is my beloved, my soulmate, I love him so much, its insane that he picked me. Legit, it felt like he picked me all those months ago. Back in January. Does anyone remember when I was so happy with OTCore and the "2024 is the year of the robots?" Yeah, guess what happened XD

Starlo helped me in so many ways, keeping me sane through so much. Originally it was gonna happen on the six month anniversary, but I ended up being too tired. Regardless, I'M SO HAPPY TO DO IT NOW!!

I look at him and I melt. I just, I love him. He loves me. I have never felt this connected to ANY fictional character like this. Spamton came close, really close. But oh well.

This was a DOOZY! Spent like, four straight days working on this. And I'm so happy I did. The colored comic is a reference to this video. It fits so well cuz its something Starlo would say and, well, PANCAKE'S NAME!! And Starlo hasn't dated anyone at ALL, there's no way he was expecting to marry someone.

Also the gif wasn't supposed to be a gif! I was trying to make a more dynamic pose for Pancake, but I already had the other sketch made, so it turned into a gif. Makes it better imo. Also I'm not too happy with Pancake's outfit. The cape is also a poncho of sorts. ah well. im also too lazy to draw the Feisty Four and Clover after all the stuff i've drawn all of this.

but yeah i hope y'all enjoy!!

Comic Transcripts: Starlo: "I, Starlo Sunnyside, do take Pancake to be my waffle-y- lawfully"

Starlo: "and pancake-y" Pancake: Pfft-

Pancake: [Silent laughter]

Starlo: "I've been scared of this m'entire life" Pancake: "BWAAHAHAHAHAHAHA-" SECOND COMIC: Ceroba: "Well, congratulations Star. How do you feel getting married?"

Starlo: "Lucky..."

Tagging: @sparkyscissorhands @sparklings-husband @prismatica-the-strange @pinkdinkydoon @simonlynch

@snowpuffclovers @ghost--girlfriend @gibles-lovely-selfships @jocelynships @catships777

@wuffverine @patchw0rk-quilt @mrscage @dudeshusband @aego-philautia

@mandrakebrew @jils-things @gideongrovel @tieflingships @carnival-of-love

@faerie-circle-ships @rexscanonwife @lovelyheartclover @mrs-bluemarine @mephy-doodle-dandy

@kakusboyfriend @mashedpotatosinacup @heartmatic @bunbunsheart2 @cinnamon-phrog

@chalcanthitedreams @literally-just-there @halsinkisser @sheepie-self-ships @moondane-lovers

@bbyshifts @starlo-uty @galaxywolfshipper @signs-of-blossoming @maetheartist

#🥞 cake art #self ship stuff #starcake #pancake #sona #self ship #self ship art #self insert #self insert x canon #uty #undertale yellow #starlo #starlo uty #hooo this better work

203 notes · View notes

fangirl-dot-com · 10 months ago

Text

Chapter 17 - I Ain't Worried

The ending of this chapter was my absolute favorite to write! Me and my Americaness is shining bright in this chapter! I live in Florida for half the year for uni - so I love the state. Logan also needs lots of love and a forehead kiss :D

I'm so sorry for the last chapter, but wait to send me the therapy bills cause the next chapter is gonna be a doozy (I apologize in advance)

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and comments are always welcome! Much love

GO AMERICA RAAAWWWWWWW

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

“MAAXXX!”

Max jumped at the sheer volume of your voice. Last he knew, you were all the way at the Williams garage. It wouldn’t be possible for you to possibly be able to scream that far. Yet, you were known to surprise him.

What he didn’t expect was for you to be dragging one Logan Sargeant by the hand. The latter looked almost…scared? The Dutchman quickly put his data pad down and turned to your direction. By now, you had dropped the American’s hand and was pushing him closer.

“Just tell him,” you told the blond, who was currently digging his feet in the concrete. Logan only rolled his eyes as Max lifted an eyebrow. He looked between the younger two, waiting for someone to spill the beans.

You huffed, since Logan was taking too long.

“Logan here wanted to see if you’d want to join us at the beach after the race today to celebrate points last race. Since there’s really no good beaches in China. ”

A squawk came from the American. “I didn’t want to ask, you did.”

Now, that could have hurt Max’s feelings, but he really didn’t know the American well enough to be offended.

The senior Red Bull racer shifted his stance. “Sure. I mean, who’s coming?”

Finally, Logan spoke up. “Well, right now it’s just us because someone,” he gave you a look, “jumped the gun on the invite. I was going to send a text out.” He put his hands in his pockets and looked down at the ground.

Max thought for a moment. All you had to say about the American was nothing short than amazing. And for just a second, Max felt pretty bad as he looked at the two of you, who were waiting for an answer.

He raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like fun!”

With the way Logan’s head whipped up and the hope in your eyes, Max knew he made the right choice.

“Perfect,” the William’s driver whispered, not in full belief that THEE Max Verstappen was going to go to the beach with them.

You playfully punched his arm. “I told you!” you all but whispered as Logan smiled down at you.

The three of you kind of stood in awkward silence, until you grabbed Logan’s hand once again. “Come on, we got to go find your other half!”

Logan didn’t get a say in anything else as you dragged him in the other direction, back to the McLaren garage.

A laugh from behind Max startled him a bit. He looked over his shoulder to find you manager looking fondly at your disappearing figure. Another eyebrow raise silently questioned the man.

Vito caught his eye and gestured to you. “It’s great to see her making friends. Well, more than just Arthur and Ollie.”

Max just hummed as he put a hand across his forehead to be able to see through the bright Miami sun. Yes, it was hot and the beach was the last place that he wanted to be after a sweaty race. But, you and Logan seemed so hopeful. He could see Kelly now approving of how he was letting loose a bit. It had been too long since he allowed himself to have fun.

A ding of his phone had him looking for the rectangular device. He let out a dry laugh as he saw a text from Charles.

Emotional Support Rival

I hear the kids have roped you in as well to go to the beach after this?

Mad Max

Yep Couldn’t say no to the puppy eyes And it’ll be fun to let loose, ya know? Also, who else is coming

Emotional Support Rival

Yeah And the American kid too He’s strangely growing on me Uh, it’s Lando, Oscar, Alex, George, me, Logan, and then the kid

Mad Max

Ah, cool And same Well, good luck today

Emotional Support Rival

Yeah, yeah, yeah I’ll try to stay out of the gravel :D

The emoji made Max shudder as he stared at the little smiley face that you had roped Charles into using more often. He could take it from you, but not from anyone else.

You suddenly made your way back into the garage, a bit out a breath.

“You done running everywhere?” Vito questioned, handing you a bottle of water.

“Yep! Beach trip is a go!” You fist pumped. “I’m so glad I brought my swimsuit.”

You started to ramble about everything you wanted to do at the beach. A few key words such as “recreation of the beach scene from Top Gun” and how “oddly strange it was that Logan reminded you of Ryan Gosling in the Barbie movie.” Everything just made Max chuckle to himself.

He was a bit nervous that he wasn’t starting pole today. Charles had just nabbed it out of his grasp. You had surprisingly gotten back up the grid after what happened at Suzuka and then a placing of P7 at Shanghai, your lowest finish yet.

Shanghai Results

Max Verstappen – 25 points

Charles Leclerc – 18 points

Lewis Hamilton – 15 points

George Russell – 12 points

Lando Norris – 11 points

Oscar Piastri – 8 points

Y/n L/n – 6 points

Alex Albon – 4 points

Logan Sargeant – 2 points

Carlos Sainz – 1 point

Fernando Alonso – 0 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 0 points

Lance Stroll – 0 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 0 points

Pierre Gasly – 0 points

Nico Hulkenberg – 0 points

Zhou Guanyu – 0 points

Esteban Ocon – 0 points

Valtteri Bottas – 0 points

Kevin Magnussen – 0 points

But now you were starting back at the top with him and Charles.

Starting Grid

Max Verstappen

Charles Leclerc

Y/n L/n

Oscar Piastri

Lando Norris

Logan Sargeant

Alex Albon

George Russell

Carlos Sainz

Fernando Alonso

Lewis Hamilton

Lance Stroll

Daniel Ricciardo

Yuki Tsunoda

Valtteri Bottas

Pierre Gasly

Esteban Ocon

Zhou Guanyu

Kevin Magnussen

Nico Hulkenberg

“Our starting grid looks promising today at the 2024 Miami Grand Prix. Now, the Williams seem strong today as Logan Sargeant qualified his highest position yet. He seems like a man on a mission for a podium. We’re glad to see that Y/n L/n is back up top following her crash back at Suzuka and then a low finish at Shanghai.”

The camera focused on you in your car, waiting for everyone to flee the scene. You caught the lens and gave a small peace sign, before suddenly becoming embarrassed as you put your visor down. It was finally time for the race as everyone got off the starting line.

Sure, you could have been even more nervous after your crash, but you had just shrugged everything off and got back to it.

“We see the drivers in the formation lap now. There goes our race leader Max Verstappen followed by Charles Leclerc. Now the drivers we are going to be focused on today are the Williams drivers, Logan and Alex. We want to see if Sargeant can keep his cool in the hot seat, both figuratively and literally as the temperatures are high today.

“All the drivers are back in their spots and now they patiently wait for those five red lights…

And it’s lights out and away we go at the 2024 Miami Grand Prix. There goes Max Verstappen, already pulling away from the very beginning. Down they go toward the first corner and CHARLES LECERLC GOES OFF THE TRACK! But it seems like he is back on and I’m getting radio of no damage so he’s still in, but what a start.

“Y/n L/n is up to second with Oscar Piastri now in third with Logan Sargeant who has gained a position. Lando Norris is behind him with the other Williams car making him a Williams sandwich.”

“Alright Mitch. Can we try to convert this into a win maybe?” You pressed the radio on as you had been called into the pits right behind Max.

“Ah, that’s a negative kid. Max has been given the priority for this race.”

“Boooooo. Max is a certified rookie-hater.”

“Seems like Y/n L/n is not happy with that team call.” David Croft chuckles after listening in on your radio.

“Who is currently behind me?” You asked as the last lap was nearing.

Mitch responded. “Piastri is behind, but Sargeant is in DRS to him.”

When she said that, your heart did a little jump. Secretly, you were hoping that Logan would get the jump on Oscar. (But no one had to know that.)

With two more laps left, you needed to check in one again as you could see a vehicle catching up.

“Mitch, status for the car behind me please.”

“It’s, uh…Is this correct?” You heard her whisper to someone else.

“Uh Mitch? Priorities please!” Your car jerked around the corner that sent you into the last lap.

“Sargeant is 2.385 seconds behind you and not gaining. So just get across the finish line.”

“LOGAN?!”

“Yes. Logan.”

You didn’t even realize that you had crossed the finish line.

“AND WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE? LOGAN SARGEANT CROSSES THE LINE IN A PERSONAL BEST OF A THIRD POSITION! A WILLIAMS IN ON THE PODIUM AND HIS TEAMMATE COMES AFTER HIM TO MAKE IS A 3-4 FOR THE WILLIAMS TEAM!”

Max crawled out of his car and raised his hands once he was out on the concrete. He turned and expected you to immediately run toward him like the last 1-2, but you never showed up. All he could see was you hunched over…a Williams?

When did that get there?

“LOGAANNNN!” you yelled down into the cockpit as you were practically in there with the American.

He batted you away so that he could get out with you. And once he was out, he was glad that he was ready for you as you jumped into his arms. Your helmets clashed as the two of you came together, but you could deal with a concussion later. He gently placed you back on the ground, but was again bulldozed over by his teammate.

It was at that moment you noticed a Dutch driver standing by himself, a bit dejected. You quickly jogged over and jumped on his back.

“Maaaaxxxxx, another podium baby!”

The Dutchman was glad that he had his hands on your legs as you leaned back and almost fell over.

“Kid are you trying to kill me?”

“Yes, you rookie-hater. Are you ever going to let me win?” you whined as he let you back down gently so that the two of you could get weighed.

“There will come a time kid. You have to be patient.”

Once your helmet was off, he could see your pouted lips. “I don’t want to be patient.”

Sadly, Arthur was off getting trained for endurance racing and wouldn’t be back to a race until Monaco for Charles’s home race. So, your favorite interviewer was not there after the cooldown room.

Yet, it was enjoyable due to the blond in the room. The three of you watched the TV and winced as you saw Charles go off the track.

“Sheesh,” you grimaced.

Max sighed, “And he said he’d try to stay out of the gravel.” He looked over at Logan. “Nice job on the overtake with Piastri.”

Logan kind of just stared at him for a moment before coming back to reality. “Thank you. He went a bit wide, and I tried to keep my elbows out."

You punched him in the side and he let out an oof. “Keep your elbows out my ass. You drove phenomenally.”

The podium celebration was amazing, but you were looking forward to one thing and one thing only.

“Alexa, play I Ain’t Worried by One Republic.”

Sand kicked at your feet as you ran behind Logan as he threw the egg-shaped ball at Oscar. The Aussie may have fumbled a bit, but he was able to run down the long stretch toward the opposite’s goal.

“Max!” he yelled and threw the ball to the unexpected Dutchman. The ball hit Max’s head and tumbled to the sand. You threw your hands up in frustration.

“Max!” you groaned. The remaining boys of Lando, Alex, George, and Charles all laughed at your frustration.

“What! This is not football!” He pointed to the American football in the sand. Charles leaned down to pick it up. Surprisingly, he twirled it well in the air.

“Technically, it’s American football!” Logan yelled from the other side, where you were standing with your hands on your hips.

George took the ball from Charles and chucked it to Lando. The Brit should have been looking the other direction, because to him you came out of nowhere and bulldozed him over.

Logan put his arms up, pretending to be a field goal. “And tackle!”

The curly-hair boy pretended to spit out sand as you stood, football in hand.

He looked up at you in amazement. “Where did you learn to tackle like that?”

You spiraled the ball perfectly back to Logan. “Live in Texas for 5 years. If there’s nothing bigger there than sweet tea and Bucees, it’s football.”

This time, Oscar was able to get the ball and run all the way to your “end goal.”

“Touchdown!”

“This was so not Top Gun,” George sighed as he kicked sand. “The shirtless ones always win.”

“Uh George?” Logan asked, making the taller Brit look up at the other shirtless drivers. You were technically shirtless as you only had your bikini on.

A bigger sigh left George’s lips.

“So can we all agree that I’d be Maverik?”

“Logan, if anyone was Maverik, it’d be me. Y’a know, main character vibes. You can be Rooster.”

“Doesn’t he die?”

“No silly, that’s Goose in the first one.”

“Who would I be?”

“Bob. Oscar, you’d be Bob.”

Race Results

Max Verstappen – 25 points

Y/n L/n – 18 points

Logan Sargeant – 15 points

Alex Albon – 12 points

Charles Leclerc – 11 points

Lando Norris – 8 points

Oscar Piastri – 6 points

Carlos Sainz – 4 points

Lewis Hamilton – 2 points

George Russell – 1 point

Fernando Alonso

Daniel Ricciardo

Yuki Tsunoda

Lance Stroll

Pierre Gasly

Zhou Guanyu

Esteban Ocon

Valtteri Bottas

Kevin Magnussen

Nico Hulkenberg

Championship Standings

Max Verstappen – 150 points

Charles Leclerc – 95 points

Y/n L/n – 65 points

Lando Norris – 61 points

Lewis Hamilton – 49 points

Oscar Piastri – 45 points

Carlos Sainz – 33 points

George Russell – 31 points

Fernando Alonso – 23 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 21 points

Alex Albon – 20 points

Logan Sargeant – 17 points

Lance Stroll

Pierre Gasly

Yuki Tsunoda

Zhou Guanyu

Kevin Magnussen

Nico Hulkenberg

Valtteri Bottas

Esteban Ocon

Constructors Standings

Red Bull – 215 points

Ferrari – 128 points

McLaren – 106 points

Mercedes – 80 points

Williams – 37 points

Aston Martin - 23 point

Racing Bulls – 21 points

Alpha Romeo

Haas

Alpine

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 highway to the DANGA ZONE - podium (with my favorite American and teammate) and some well deserved beach time after

liked by logansargeant, arthur_leclerc, b0x_b0x_nightmare and 73,295 others

maxverstappen1 uh I was on the podium too??

y/n.89 we're all tired of you being on the top step charles_leclerc yes, let's have the poor people have a chance landonorris POOR PEOPLE?? YOU MAKE MORE THAN I DO oscarpiastri you're getting paid??

logan2sarg AMERICAN ON THE PODIUM - ONE STEP CLOSER TO FREEDOM RAAAWWRRRR

sargeant_log this post has signaled the Americans

arthurxy/n ARTHUR BACK IN THE LIKES

maxverstappen1 I'm your only teammate??

logansargeant and I'm the only American driver?? y/n.89 oh be quiet

emotional_support_rivals I was thankfully at the beach, and let me tell you - an exact replica of the top gun beach scene

lestappenlove lemme guess...Logan is Maverick? y/n.89 NO HE'S ROOSTER

y/n.nation our girl looking prettyyyy - mystery boy must be keeping her happy

maxverstappen1 has posted

maxverstappen1 the progression of the day : sun time, burnt time, shade time

liked by y/n.89, maxverstappencom, dutch_lion, max_max, and 2,948,923 others

max_fan lobster max is back

kellypiquet did you remember sunscreen?

maxverstappen1 yes y/n.89 no he didn't

lestappenlove max in a bucket hat is something I didn't know I needed

redbullracing should we add umbrellas to the car?

f1_group I wonder who won the football game

y/n.89 Logan, max, oscar, and I won - while Lando, Alex, George and Charles LOST alex_albon it's because somehow you are freakishly good at the sport, Logan grew up playing it, Oscar grew up with Logan and Max just wins everything charles_leclerc Max is a certified everyone-hater

formula1_power this beach trip is my Roman Empire

logansargeant has posted

logansargeant my job is beach

liked by williamsracing, oscarpiastri, freedom4logan, and 95,294 others

L_sarg YEAAAHHHHH PODIUM ON HOME SOIL

l2_fan WTF IS A KILOMETEERRRRRRRRR

y/n.89 your fans scare me just a bit

logansargeant they don't bite y/n.89 YES THEY DO

williamsracing FREEDOOOMMMMM (did we do that correctly?)

formula1_fan Logan on the podium has boosted my morale for living

cota_official can't wait to see you again in October! (maybe top step this time?)

author guuyyyyssssss cota_official sorry... usa4logan HELLO??

oscarpiastri happy for you mate

barbie and what a great job you do at beach Logan

charles_leclerc has posted

charles_leclerc beach, please

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 1,843,923 others

sharl16 its the return of the blue filter

cha_cha_red the caption is giving "72 best beach instagram captions to share your vacation fun"

y/n.89 do you have his search history or something? charles_leclerc quiet or I'd have to drop something ferrarifan what do you know

ferrari_failure glad he's having some fun

red_flag the groups' captions hit hard - I'm dying

maxverstappen1 why don't you just say the word??

landonorris cause he's under contract charles_leclerc legally I can't say can't say anything, read my lips y/n.89 why is he crying, and what does that have to do with "pitch perfect" ??

scuderiaferrari remember to use sunscreen!

alex_albon has posted

alex_albon freedom or whatever

liked by lilymhe, albon_pets, logansargeant, and 835,920 others

alobono love the matching Williams tank-tops with Logan

y/n.89 sun or whatever

logansargeant sand or whatever oscarpiastri beach or whatever landonorris the sea or whatever

aa_on_top why he walking like that?

y/n.89 chafing alex_albon SHUT UP georgerussell63 penguin

williamsracing you look great Alex

y/n.89 not williams flirty on the main @.lilymhe they're trying to take your boyfriend lilymhe they can have him :) alex_albon LILY??

fan_of_f1 probably the only one who doesn't need sunscreen

albon_alex23 not Alex getting bullied on HIS post

landonorris has posted

landonorris my toes got wet

liked by oscarpiastri, y/n.89, lnfour, maxfewtrell, and 839,183 others

lnfournation big stretch

la_la_lando is he napping??

y/n.89 it was all too much for little Lando Norris maxverstappen1 couldn't handle losing at football landonorris I was JUST resting my eyes charles_leclerc suurreeee

ln_4 suns out, tits out too I guess

last_lap_lando are those....weights??

y/n.89 he said it was for the "pump"? idk if he found it tho y/n_nation she is really coming for them all today

mclaren watch out for sharks!

lando_norizz oh to just lie down on the sand and play with my best buds

oscarpiastri has posted

oscarpiastri I'm bob

liked by mclaren, lilyzneimer, auzzieauzzieauzzie, and 834,294 others

top_gun_enthusiast f1 & top gun crossover when??

y/n.89 Logan would go nuts - he has a crush on tom cruise logansargeant Y/NNNNNNN oscarpiastri it's true

oscah81 an aussie in his natural habitat

osc_pastry florida?? oscah81 the water??

hoe4oscarpiastri bless George and his shirtless pictures influences

danielricciardo can't believe you didn't invite me????

y/n.89 there was only room for one aussie plus we've already been to the beach together?? carossainz55 it's ok, they forgot me too Daniel landonorris guys be quiet, you're making y/n cry cause now she feels bad charles_leclerc she already cried because she saw a lonely crab DO NOT make it worse

mclaren ice bath thirst traps coming next?

micLaren_bois ahhhh thank you y/n for this content

georgerussell63 has posted

georgerussell63 gave out a master class on shirtless posts today

liked by carmenmmundt, mercedesamgf1, russellgeorge, and 194,284 others

russellgeorge the king of shirtless pictures has arrived

king_george63 when did George get a jeep?

y/n.89 he didn't, he asked these random guys if he could take a quick picture and ended up breaking the wipers logansargeant it's true, I was there georgerussell62 y/n you do not need to tell all my secrets. do I need to call toto? y/n.89 you don't scare me cause he liked me more than you mercedesamgf1 play nice George - toto

he-just-tUrned-in0-me the second picture is everthing

y/n.89 he ate the sand right after georgerussell63 Y/N!!!! alex_albon you new here? just ignore it

george_at_merc this just ties all of their posts together

williamsracing has posted

williamsracing podium, points, and some all American football

liked by f1, y/n.89, logansargant, arthur_leclerc, and 803,195 others

logan4freedom GOD BLESS OUR TROOPS

williamspookies GOD BLESS AMERICA y/n.89 AND GENTLEMEN logansargeant START. YOUR. ENGIIINNNEESSSSS alex_albon I am only slightly concerned

f1mia glad to have you all here! until next year RAWWRRRR

charles_leclerc can you please take out the gravel pleaasseeee

b0x_b0x_nightmare this year's podium was so wholesome

best_rookie I knooowww, max with Logan and y/n was a trio I didn't know I needed

tomcruise great job @.logansargeant, glad I got to watch

logansargeant OH MY GOSHHHHHH y/n.89 he just died but can you give miles teller my number please? maxverstappen1 y/n no, you have a boyfriend???? y/n.89 he's the one who told me to ask??????????

box_box_official this weekend will always be on repeat

williams_fan this whole weekend was so wholesome, can't wait for more

author oh, uhhhhh readers what did you do? author get your therapy bills ready?

formula1_fanatic can't wait to see what the rest of the season holds :D

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year ago

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two is better than one | joel & tommy miller

Summary | Frustrated that whatever you're trying to do still isn't working, you decide to give it one more try with Joel before cooling off for a while. Tommy is back to keep an eye on the both of you this time, but what happens when he starts to feel a little left out, watching his brother bring his girl over the edge more times than he cares to count?

Warnings | I swear I always start this the same way so here we go: Tommy getting cucked but also getting involved this time 👀, Joel being a fucking menace, dirty talk, oral sex (F&M receiving), face sitting, breeding kink, unprotected PiV sex, talk of infertility, no use of Y/N

Word Count | 3.8k

Authors Note | Whew. When I tell you this little threesome has been rotting my brain, I'm not lying. This is the only thing I can focus on, hence them being updated so fast! I just wanted to say a huge thank you to you all for the continued love you're giving this series - it honestly blows my mind every time that it's something you guys enjoy, that my writing reaches so many people and that they lap that shit up. I'm so grateful to everyone who has taken the time to comment, send me asks, reblogs and those who have slid into my DMs with all the love. I see you, I hear you, and I love you all - thank you. I hope you enjoy this next part just as much as the rest - it's a doozy. You know the drill, if you did like it, please consider reblogging, commenting or sending the love to my ask box, it's what keeps me going. And if you'd like to leave me a tip (of course no pressure!), then here's my Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Another month and another fucking negative pregnancy test. You knew it was irrational, but you were starting to think that maybe you were also part of the problem now. You’d been doing everything right, following all the advice in the books you’d bought almost a year ago when Tommy and you had first started trying for a baby. You’d been exercising, eating as healthily as possible, tried to keep yourself a stress-free as possible. You’d been keeping a close eye on your cycle and still, nothing to show for it.

When you clambered down the stairs, test in hand and flung it in Tommy’s direction, he already knew. He could see the heavy set of your shoulders, the quiet sniffling of you trying to hide the fact you were crying. Tommy had settled you on the couch, covered you in a blanket and made you some tea. Then he’d made your favourite meal for dinner, even driven to the store and picked up Diet Coke, emptied a can into a glass filled with ice and lime juice like you loved, but none of it really helped to soothe how upset you were.

The TV was on low, and he had your head in his lap, slowly stroking the strands of your hair as you tried to calm yourself down. Remind yourself that even the most fertile of couples needed to try for months sometimes before they had their first baby. It was stupid to think you’d be any different.

“You’re thinkin’ way too loud, sugar.” Tommy muses, letting his hand run up and down your arm instead.

“Sorry,” You mumble, “Just thought it would be easier.”

“I know,” He coos, “We can take a break for a while, if you want.”

You turn so you’re led on your back, looking right up at him, “I just want a baby.” You feel a tear slip down your cheek to pool near your ear.

Tommy uses his thumb to brush away the tears that have started to fall, bobbing his leg up and down gently to try and soothe you, “It’s still fresh,” He speaks softly, “Let’s give it a couple of days and see what you want to do, okay?”

You nod in agreement, feeling the beginnings of a headache pooling behind your eyes. You push yourself up into a sitting position and turn around to press a soft kiss to his lips, “I’m gonna go to bed,” You announce, “Headache.”

He lets you go, it’s still early and you know there’s the game highlights he wanted to watch. In bed, you can do nothing but toss and turn for a few hours. Every time you’d try to close your eyes, all you could see was vision of you and Joel, in all the different positions he’d put you in so far, and all for what? When the bedside clock hit 10:30, you head out to use the bathroom. As you near the door at the top of the stairs you can hear Tommy talking to someone, through the phone because his is the only voice you can hear.

“I know, brother, she’s just really beat up about it,” You hear him say, “I don’t know how to make it better.”

You lean against the closed bathroom door, wondering if perhaps you should leave Tommy to talk to Joel. There’s a pause where you can hear Tommy humming along to whatever Joel is saying on the other end of the phone.

“I dunno man,” Tommy sighs, “You managed to knock Sarah’s mom up on a one-night stand, guess I thought it would be easier for you.”

There’s another pause, then he’s speaking again.

“No Joel, all of her tests came back perfect,” Another sigh, “I was always the problem.”

You’re about to push down the handle to go to the bathroom when Tommy speaks again, “I don’t know, maybe we should just cool it for a while, we’re all gonna work ourselves up otherwise.”

You decide you don’t really want to hear the rest of the conversation. You sit on the toilet and let your face drop to your hands in frustration. Why couldn’t you just be normal? Why couldn’t you have been a nice, normal couple, having a baby in the most natural way possible? Why did this have to come along and fucking complicate everything? And why did Joel have to be so fucking good to you every time?

You wash your hands under the tap, water as scalding as it could go, just in order to feel something that wasn’t frustration before you head to bed. There’s no longer the sound of voices as you pad back across the hall and get back into bed, shutting off the lights and curling onto one side, knees as close to your chest as you can manage to get them. It’s not long before you can hear Tommy shuffling around upstairs. He pushes open the bedroom door quietly, obviously thinking you’re already asleep. You can hear him undressing before he's slipping onto his side of the bed, pulling your body close to his under the covers as he spoons you.

You let your own arm cover his over your waist as you lean back into the comfort of his chest, letting his breath fan across the skin of your shoulder as he presses a kiss to your skin.

“I wanna try again,” You speak softly into the dark, feeling Tommy’s arm’s squeeze you tighter, “Once more and then we cool it for a while.”

“You sure?” He asks into your ear, lips pressing to the sensitive skin behind your ear.

“I’m sure.” You respond, turning around in his arms to capture his lips in yours.

When the time comes to try again, it’s you who greets Joel at the door when he knocks. Tommy already upstairs and situated in the chair he had taken the first time you’d done this as a three. Joel leans down, lips just millimeters from your own, but instead of kissing your mouth, he places a soft kiss to your cheek instead.

“Hello, darlin’.”

You step up onto your tiptoes to press your own kiss to his face, just shy of the corner of his mouth – the kisses from last time still a secret between the two of you.

“Evening handsome,” You smile, pulling away from him to close the door as he steps inside, “You ready?”

“To give you what you want?” He smirks, “Always, pretty girl.”

You feel that telltale heat flush across your cheeks as Joel pulls you into his side, hand dipping down to squeeze your ass over the fabric of the robe you’d thrown on moments ago. God, why did he have to be so fucking intoxicating around you?

You take hold of his hand in yours, leading him up the stairs behind you. Tommy was reading a book as you entered the room, folding the corner of the page before setting it down on the nightstand closest to the chair. You can’t help but snigger as you watch him and Joel give each other the typical male greeting of a curt nod of the head.

You drag Joel by the arm to the foot of the bed, pushing his shoulders down so he sits on the edge. Then you take a step back and tug on the belt of your robe, letting it fall open and off your body to leave you completely naked in front of him. You watch his face as he trails those beautiful brown eyes over your body, letting out a low whistle of approval.

“Beautiful as ever, darlin’,” He compliments, reaching out a hand for you to take, “But you’re worked up, ain’t ya? And not in the good way.”

Your eyes flit to Tommy in the corner of the room, who has that smug ‘I told you so’ look on his face. You’d been itching for Tommy to arrange this since that ovulation test said you were in the zone, but Joel had been working away for the past two days, and now you were worried that if you didn’t hurry the fuck up, you’d miss your chance.

Joel reaches out and puts his hands on the back of your thighs, pulling you into him, he’s looking up at you, pressing hot kisses to the skin of your tummy, “Gotta relax babygirl,” He moans, “I’m tryin’ my damned hardest, but you just gotta let nature take its course.”

“Just frustrating.” You mumble.

“I know baby, I know,” He’s got his hands palming your tits now, “Long as I need to, I’ll keep fillin’ you up, y’hear me?”

Your breath catches in your throat and all you can do is nod as he moves himself back on the bed.

Joel leans back on the bed, his head just shy of the pillows, “Sit on my face, pretty girl.”

You’re almost embarrassed at how quickly you scramble yourself onto the bed, moving up to straddle his hips – even Tommy is chuckling from his chair.

“Can’t get enough of Joel’s mouth on your pussy, can you, sugar?” He speaks in a low voice.

Joel has his hands on your ass, guiding your naked body to hover over his face before his hands are slipping up to your hips to pull your cunt to his mouth. He wastes no time in getting straight to business, wide tongue licking stripes from your entrance, where he laps up your slick like a cat would cream, to those deliciously tight flicks of the tip of his tongue to your clit. You can hear him groaning into your pussy, your hand coming down to anchor itself into his hair to hold him still as you start grinding against his face.

You can hear the obscene slurps that he’s making underneath you, it’s half the reason you think it takes you no time at all to reach the edge, because he fucking enjoys this just as much as you do, he loves tasting you, loves making you feel good and you can feel that, can feel it on his mouth.

As you throw your head back as Joel’s tongue swipes perfectly across your clit, you catch Tommy in the corner of the room. He’s palming himself through his jeans as he watches you, your body writhing as his brother’s mouth brings you closer and closer to the edge. It wouldn’t hurt, would it? You think, if you asked if he wanted you to help him out.

“You feeling left out baby?” You coo, reaching your hand out for Tommy to take, “Joel gets my pussy tonight,” You punctuate with a grind of your pussy down onto his mouth, “But I can help you, if you want.”

He’s standing at the edge of the bed in minutes, his hand pressing into the back of your neck, not unlike how he tries to work the knots from there when you watch TV together. It’s soft and it’s loving and a complete juxtaposition to the vice grip that Joel’s fingers currently have on your hips.

Your lips are impossibly close to Tommy’s, you could easily lean forward and kiss him, instead, you have a demand, “Take off your pants.”

Tommy’s hands start to undo the belt holding his jeans up, so you turn your attention back to Joel between your thighs. He is expertly holding you right on the edge, you’re mewling and whining as he tongue works you to the edge, and then pulls away, moving down to gather more of your slick on his tongue.

You drop your head and catch his eyes looking up at you, “You gonna tease me all night, Miller?” You ask, voice cracking as he makes a point to suckle on your clit, making you cry out, “Fuck, make me come, please Joel.”

All of a sudden, Tommy’s hand is on your face, pulling your mouth to his own in a searing kiss as he guides your hand to his cock. You’re moaning, a combination of the fact that any second, Joel’s mouth is going to have you screaming and the fact that it’s Tommy kissing you, his cock you’re currently pumping through your fist. It’s delicious and it’s filthy and it should feel all shades of wrong, but it fucking doesn’t.

You feel it in your legs first, the way they begin to shake and pulse and your thighs clamp around Joel’s face. Then you feel it in your abdomen, like a knot unfurling all at once as pleasure bursts over every inch of your skin. Your mouth detaching from Tommy’s, so you can cry out his brother’s name as you feel yourself almost collapse onto him.

“Such a good girl,” Tommy breathes into your ear, your hand still firmly held around his cock, “So good when you come for us like that.”

You feel Joel’s hands tapping at the cheeks of your ass, telling you to lift yourself off his face which you do, dragging yourself down enough so that you’re sat across his chest, not caring that your leaking pussy is dragging slick all over him. His face is covered, covered in you. He’s grinning up at you like the devil, tongue circling his mouth to clean your taste from wherever he can reach.

“I gotta be inside you, pretty girl.” You can hear his gruff voice speak.

Tommy immediately moves back from you so you can settle yourself down on the bed. You start on your back, but Joel moves you to lie on your side. He’s still fully clothed behind you, but when he presses himself up against you, you can feel his thick cock straining in his jeans.

“Take your clothes off.” Is all you can manage to whine as Tommy settles on his knees on the space in front of you, taking the back of your head in the palm of his hand to bring your mouth to his cock.

Joel shuffles away from you and you feel the mattress lighten as he gets off the bed to shed his clothes. You almost wish you could watch, there’s something about the way Joel reveals his body to you that drives you wild. The way he drags his shirt off to reveal his broad frame, chest peppered with hair, or the way his cock bounces when he finally pulls off his underwear. But right now, you’re focused on making your man feel good.

You’re making sure that you’re doing it exactly as Tommy likes, almost telling him through the ministrations of your mouth how grateful you are for him, for this being his idea, for loving you enough and trusting you enough to let someone else give you what he cannot. You’re giving all the attention of your tongue to the head of Tommy’s weeping cock, tasting the salt and musk of his pre-cum, using one had to pump the base of his cock.

You can feel Joel settle back behind you, pressing his entire body against your own, hard cock slipping through the slick folds of your cunt as he settles himself in the right position, then, he’s taking hold of your leg, hand in the crux of your knee to pull it up, baring his prize. He slowly inches his cock inside your tight heat and suddenly it’s all a little overwhelming.

You’re giving the love of your life the kind of head you’ve only ever seen in porn, Tommy taking most of the control to thrust in and out of your mouth. You’re pretty sure the tears falling from your eyes are a mixture of his length hitting the back of your throat and the overwhelming emotion, love, and admiration you feel for both the men who are crowding your body, owning it, taking what they both want, one of them hopefully leaving you with what you want.

You pull your face away from Tommy’s cock for a moment, still giving his length the attention it needs, but you let yourself lean into Joel behind you, his cock still moving languidly inside you. He’s got one of his arms snaked under your neck, your head leant against his arm like a pillow, his other hand holding your leg up so that every time his cock brushes inside you, it’s hitting that damn spot that makes you want to cry.

“Look at you, lucky girl,” Joel growls into your ear as his lifts your leg up higher, pushing it almost to lie flat aagainst your side, “One cock in that pretty little pussy, another in your mouth,” You let a moan, muffled by the fact that Tommy is currently doing a slap-up job of fucking your throat, “He’s a lucky man,” Joel speaks again, “Bet that mouth feels divine.”

“You ask nicely, she might oblige you, brother.”

You feel him puff air through his nose in a chuckle, “I’m quite happy right where I am,” He speaks, pumping his cock so deep inside you that you actually think you can see stars, “You’re a lucky son-of-a-bitch gettin’ this for the rest of your life.”

“She’s special, I’ll give you that.”

It’s like you have to prove him right now. You can feel the walls of your pussy clenching around Joel as he picks up his pace. You can feel his balls slapping into your skin with every thrust, the power behind them causing your mouth to take Tommy cock deeper into your mouth every time.

“Sugar, I ain’t gonna last much longer.” You hear him speak from above you.

You pull off him, again letting your hand work him as you look up at his through your lashes, “You want me to swallow for you, baby?” You asked, wondering what you must look like when he looks down at you, fucked out from his brother, begging for him to come down your throat.

“There’s an offer I cannot refuse,” Tommy grins, letting your mouth take him back inside the warmth, “Such a good girl.”

He only lasts a few more seconds, cum hitting your tongue and seeping down your throat. You swallow down every drop, grinning up at Tommy. He leans down and plants a kiss to your lips, and now your focus is on Joel, thick and solid, pumping his cock in and out of you.

“You focus on Joel now, sugar,” He croons, “I’m gonna sit back and watch you have fun.”

As soon as Tommy has moved away from you, Joel is pulling his cock from your pussy, turning you onto your back before he’s crowding his frame over you, settling between your thighs. You’re pliant and you move easily when he hooks your legs over his shoulders, folding you back as he slips his cock back inside you.

You’re gripping his arms as he fucks into you in earnest now, tip of his cock bruising your cervix with every thrust, you know he’ll have half-moon shaped marks on his arms come the morning, they’ll match the bruises he always leaves on your hips, the shape of his fingertips indented into your skin.

“God fuckin’ damnit,” Joel groan, head falling to the column of your throat to graze teeth and lips over your delicate skin, “Gonna come so deep in this fuckin’ pussy it won’t have a choice but to take, you hear me, pretty girl?”

“Fuck!” You exclaim, as he shifts just enough to change the angle that his cock is spearing into you, “Joel please.”

“Please what?” He teases, “What do you want, babygirl?”

“Inside,” You breath out, “Want you inside.”

“Yeah, want me to make you a mama?” You can feel tears pooling in your eyes, “No need to cry, pretty girl,” He leans down, folding you in half even more, almost uncomfortable, to kiss away the tears, “Gonna give you what you need.”

He thankfully moves back a little, stopping your bones from screaming at you for being folded so inhumanely, then his thumb is on your clit, “Only gonna make you a mama if you come with me,” Joel smirks, “Deal?”

“Oh god – fuck – whatever you want,” You cry, “Please, give me what I want.”

His thumb is relentless on your already sensitive clit, those tight circles have you clenching around him and when you look into his eyes you know he’s just as close as you are, “That’s it baby, you keep those big, beautiful eyes on me,” Joel’s hips are snapping into your with a force you didn’t know you could feel, it’s entirely too much and entirely too little all at the same time, “Can feel that tight little pussy suckin’ me in,” You cry out as his thumb falters and drags across your clit in a way that has that not threatening to unfurl yet again, “It’s alright baby, if you come, I’ll follow, yeah?”

That’s exactly what happens. His thumb traces wet circles over your clit and you do exactly as he says. You keep your eyes wide open, staring directly into his own, as your mouth falls open with a screech as your vision clouds. Whatever happens, Joel is right behind you, his cock pounds into at most, twice more, before he’s growling your name through his teeth, cum painting every inch of your pussy. He drops your legs from his shoulders, and falls forward, letting his head rest in the crook of your neck as you both fight to catch your breath.

You wrap your arms around him but it’s all too soon before he’s pulling himself out of you, a kiss to your cheek as he does so. You’re spent and you’re aching and if you’re honest, a little overwhelmed. Joel dresses quickly, and you wish you could ask him to stay, wish he didn’t feel the need to run away, but you know it’s for the best. Tommy tells you he’ll see him out and come to bed, so you roll over and pull yourself under the sheets, trying to warm yourself from the cool air that’s spattering across the sweat of your skin.

Tommy is back within minutes having seen Joel off. He shed his clothes and moves right up behind you, gathering you into his arms. He takes some time to press kisses into your neck and across your shoulders and for some reason, it sets your belly on fire. How have you been fucked so thoroughly by another man, this man’s own brother, and now you’re aching for this man behind you.

“I love you so much, Tommy,” You whisper into the dark, clutching at his arms wrapped around you, “So fucking much.”

“I love you too baby,” He whispers into your ear, stilling your hips as they grind back into him, “Enough of that, I’ll give you what you want tomorrow.”

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felassan · 3 months ago

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Snippets. 🐺💜

Nathan: "This team has done some amazing work 😍" [source]

devs Mack Carruthers and Greg Towner worked on Morrigan's transformation in the new trailer [source]

Violet: "🥰 can't wait to share more with you guys 👀" [source]

Violet: "Happy to finally have my first authored blog (with help from my AMAZING TEAM of course!) to share with you guys!!! Check it out and pre-order DATV now! 🥰🥰🥰" [source] [bloglink]

In this thread, Derek highlights a compilation of shots from the trailer that he made, worked on in-tandem with others, or polished

Derek: "And that’s all the stuff from me in the trailer! I feel so incredibly lucky that so much of my work made it into this AMAZING trailer. Can’t wait for you guys to see more. 🧡 I wanna add: it takes an army to make these scenes. While I did character layout, camera animations, animation polish, bug fixing and technical stuff, there’s still a plethora of folks who touched these scenes. Matter of fact, our work still isn’t done. So I gotta thank: writing, level art, VFX, lighting, sound, character art, performance capture, actors, production, and my fellow Cine folks who I worked on these scenes in tandem with. It all came together into one incredible package. 🧡 For anyone who’s curious, here’s a breakdown of what I do: - mocap assembly - scene layout (characters, props, cameras, mocap) - camera work (animations, framing, polish, etc.) - scene polish (character and camera animation polish, bug fixes) - integration - bug fixing" [source, two, three, four] Derek added: "PS: I count these as Cine folks, but to clarify - also huge thank you our incredible Creature and Character animators. They did some really insanely mind blowing shit. Dunno how they do it." [source]

User: "Okay, but is it on purpose that the drink/flask thingie is positioned almost like the stomach in Manfred It's like kinda in the correct area too if I'm not mistaken [image of Manfred]" / Derek: "Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s what character art was going for here 😂" [source]

Dev Tony: "Been hard at work bringing these scenes to life with an amazing team of cinematic artists and designers. Enjoy a small teaser of our work." [source]

Derek: "I worked on a few of [Lucanis'] best scenes. HE OWES ME." [source] / User: "Very much looking forward to seeing where his story goes. I have a feeling it'll be spicy." / Derek: "Oh it’s a doozy." [source]

Derek: "The hair in our game is ASTOUNDING." [source]

Derek: "Our lighting team are absolute MASTERS at this, every bit of work they did was incredible!!" [source]

Derek: "I can absolutely tell you that there are a PLETHORA of dialogue options, major choices, and a huge amount of variability. Trust me - it’s been challenging to work with all the variability LOL" [source]

Carly: "game dev is so collaborative, a lot of stuff in the trailer i've helped out on! most of the work id say i "own" isn't gonna be in flashy trailers, but hope we get to see some of it over the next two months ! :)" [source]

Crystal: "Some really beautiful cinematics shown off in this one. So proud of our team!" [source]

Carly: "ive worked on at least one romance scene for each follower and i still squeak when they flirt with me im With y'all" [source]

Dev Matthew: "👀 This is so hype! Might be a tad of my work in there as well. 😉" [source]

Siggi: "It's so exciting to see the some of the shots I worked on and worked along-side come to life! I was afraid that my work would never see the life of day. I can't wait for October!" [source]

Siggi: "My biggest contribution was the assan work I think. I got to do a lot of look and movement development on him. I even animated his whole intro scene." [source]

Siggi: "Look at my babies! LOOK AT THEM! They're smiling!" [context: Assan and the dragon that rises from the water, and having worked on them] [source]

Carly: "forever grateful to siggi for helping me onboard but okkkk their animation work is sooooo killer, set an amazing standard for the cines !!!!! 🙏🙏🙏 so excited for y'all to see" [source]

Dev Zara: "October 31st!! So excited for folks to enjoy it. And to finally be able to publicly share my animation work." [source]

Camille: "Time for you to meet some of them dragons ! And I don’t think you’ll be able to slay them so easily hehe" [source]

Varric's Bianca: "That’s us!! That’s our game!! 😭❤️ never in my wildest dreams would I have predicted that I’d end up where I am, working on my dream project. I’m so immensely grateful to this amazing team!" [source]

ikhandle: "Congratulations team! This has been an honour to work on! Amazing job all around." [source]

Michael: "the team really, really cares about PC." [source] / User: "The trailer was awesome! How soon do you think we'll hear about PC specific features? 👀" / Michael: "pretty soon! i know its in the works." [source]

For a while there was an error on the Steam listing of the game's PC specs. it said the recommended PC spec is the same as the minspec. the recommended PC spec is PC spec is i9-9900K. it looks like this has now been fixed [source]

ikhandle: "One of my dragon shots just made the trailer! 🐉🐉 Huge shoutout to the Cinematic team for absolutely crushing it—these are some of the best cinematics I've seen in years. Truly an honor to have the privilege to work on Dragon Age. Congrats to the whole team on their outstanding work!" [source] (context: dragon shot at the end of the trailer when the red one pulls a pike out its body)

ikhandle: "Had a lot of fun animating this big boi. Y’all not ready for him 🦴☠️🪓" [source] (context: the giant skeleton) / User: "Does he have a name? 👀" / ikhandle: "I’ll ask 😂. I’ve named him SeñorBones for now." [source]

The cinematics in the trailer are running REAL time in engine [source]

ikhandle: "Everyone has done such an amazing job… a lot of hard work to get these out. Shout out to the whole team!!’" [source]

Jess: "😎 I'm uncontrollably hype and I work on this….." [source]

Dev Yanni: "Dragons go roar! *internal screaming in excitement*" [source]

Nick: "Nuts to see how far this has come. Way to go to the BioWare team." [source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #morrigan #queen of my heart #hype hypeeeee

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iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin · 10 months ago

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bully⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

tuesday, zhang hao— string ensemble

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. game day (group) chapter here. all 7 endings here. ⋆˙⟡ wc: 2.8k ⋆˙⟡ reader: femme afab (listed first, she/her are used a couple times) // gender neutral (alternate version listed second, no pronouns used at all to describe reader— scroll down) ⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated. ⋆˙⟡ tuesday summary: happy tuesday, you know what that means: two straight hours of wind ensemble. and it's made even more enjoyable by first chair, zhang hao, chewing you out for every mistake you make. he's been quiet today though. it's making your skin crawl. can you manage to get out unscathed?

⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. please read specific smut warnings under the cut! swearing. angst. dub-con. bullying. stuck up, tattletale hao. this is a doozy. you'll be glad we took it easy monday. smut in gn and fem versions are substantially different due to logistics/circumstance. also i clearly know nothing about playing the violin so just 🤓☝️ pipe down over there, k? ily. actually would love to hear real violinists thoughts on this so hmu. ⋆˙⟡ bully scale: ★★★☆☆ (3.5)

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: foreign object and finger insertion (reader receiving), oral (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), dub-con: hao doesn't have consent before sexually touching reader but reader is turned on by it, cum play, bullying.

DO NOT PUT ROSIN UP YOUR HOO HA YA DINGUS!! purely for entertainment purposes, this fic exists in a world where there aren't consequences for that okay? DON'T. I REPEAT DON'T. DO THIS IRL. okay thank you, love you.

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you take a deep breath, bouncing nervously on the balls of your feet at the south campus entrance. you’d barely gotten any sleep last night after your encounter with jiwoong, too busy tossing and turning as you pictured the dirty looks you’d be getting all over campus the next day. but as you walk across the main courtyard to the music building this afternoon, you’re surprised and elated to hear no frantic whispers in response to your presence.

had jiwoong really kept what happened yesterday a secret? you find it hard to believe he’d want to protect your reputation and mental well-being. still, the proof was in the pudding and, so far, the pudding seemed entirely unaware of who you are. just how you like it.

on tuesday afternoons, you had string ensemble in place of advanced drama. although it was a relief to have jiwoong out of sight and out of mind, there was another force at play to deal with.

as you enter the orchestra room, you spot that force immediately— already seated and delicately coating the hairs of his bow with the lifetime supply of premium rosin he’d won for first place violinist at the chinese international music competition three years ago. you know this fact because he never lets you forget it.

with your violin case in your hand, you make your way to your seat: second chair, of course. first chair is eternally occupied by your conductor’s most favorite student.

you sit down in your black music chair, smoothing your skirt so that it doesn’t ride up while you play. opening your violin case, you carefully pull out your instrument and begin quietly tuning it as the rest of the string ensemble files in. you place your bow to the strings, playing a note to assess the sound. the note comes out airy and weak and it makes you inherently wince.

“fucking fix that right now,” a familiar voice to your left suddenly demands. “i won’t ask again.”

your left eyebrow peaks in confusion as you mumble, “you didn’t ask a first time.”

he doesn’t even look at you. and though you already intended to fix the problem without his prompting, you place your violin back in its case and start to fish around in the velvet compartments for some rosin. when you come up empty, you start to panic.

“good afternoon, everyone,” professor ahn greets, tapping her conductor’s baton on the frame of her metal music stand. “we have a lot to get to today, so let’s just jump right in.”

shit. you really need rosin.

but there’s no way you can raise your hand and disrupt professor ahn’s flow. she already thinks you’re a second-rate violinist that “hides her lack of talent behind incessant practice”. this was a direct quote you’d received on your evaluation sheet last semester. besides, all professor ahn would probably say was that you should’ve made sure your bow was up to par before you even got to campus.

you couldn’t argue with that. it was the truth. but your little incident with jiwoong had preoccupied you and suddenly every perfectionist task you routinely performed seemed... obsolete. how could you let him get to you like this?

and why did it still feel so good?

professor ahn taps her baton again, signaling for everyone to turn to the first page of your spring concert repertoire. you swallow nervously, opening your sheet music booklet to tippett’s fantasia concertante on a theme of corelli. it’s an extremely difficult piece that an outstanding violinist struggles to play on a good day. and you would be playing it with your bow in a noticeably poor condition.

you stumble through the piece as quietly as possible, cringing when the sound your instrument produces is less than satisfactory. though your ensemble is still learning the song, others’ mistakes aren’t enough to hide the strange performance coming from the second-chair violinist.

“zhang hao-sshi,” professor ahn suddenly calls. the boy to your left looks up at her in attention, causing your heart to sink to your stomach. “who is responsible for that unsatisfactory sound?”

you were foolish to think you could escape what inevitably always happened during string ensemble: the second of your five jerk-off bullies ratting you out in front of the whole orchestra.

there was a reason professor ahn held such distaste for you and your craft and that reason was zhang hao. each and every rehearsal, your professor would ask the first chair to list any mistakes he’d heard from your section and he apparently only ever noticed yours. you’d sit there, cheeks heating up with embarrassment as hao described every error you made in great detail that day— professor ahn taking note and deducting points from your rehearsal grade as she saw fit.

hao had seemingly made it his mission to single handedly make you quit violin in a sea of unbearable shame.

so you’re shocked when all hao replies is, “i apologize, professor ahn. i was too engrossed in playing to notice where the error was coming from.”

what the fuck? why would he lie? it couldn’t be to help you. hao would throw you to the wolves without a second thought if it meant remaining superior to you.

but his gaze returns to his sheet music, pencil floating across the paper as he quietly adds annotations. you’re honestly freaked out. had he hit his head? had the difficulty of the piece actually thrown him that much?

rehearsal ends shortly thereafter and you stay in your chair, silently tending to your violin next to hao. you’re both usually the last to leave, but hao always makes it a point to stay just a few seconds longer than you. just to prove something.

after your instrument is safely back in its case, you stand up and make your way over to the instrument storage closet. you find your cubby, pulling out your key and unlocking your unit so you can leave your violin there for the remainder of your classes this afternoon.

as you place your violin case gently inside and lock your cubby, the unexpected sound of footsteps behind you makes you freeze in place. slowly, you turn around to find hao standing in the doorway of the storage closet.

weird. hao would never undermine his unparalleled musicianship by keeping his violin in a public storage unit. he sets his case down next to him, crossing his arms and leaning on the left side of the door frame.

“i’m waiting,” is all he says, brow raised expectantly.

you look to your left and right, trying to discern what it is hao could be waiting for. you can’t find anything of note. “um... for what?”

“what do you mean, for what?” hao spits, eyes narrowing angrily. “i didn’t tell professor ahn about any of the mistakes you made today. and i don’t know if you noticed, but you made a fuck ton.”

and the shoe drops, you think.

“did you not even notice my act of kindness?” he asks indignantly. “don’t you think i at least deserve a thank you?”

“oh,” you reply, tilting your head in surprise. you swallow the urge to tell him that kindness in demand of a thank you is not exactly kindness and instead, just nod. “yeah. thank you. i guess.”

it must be some weird power play over you. it’s probably best to make a swift exit and not give him the attention he wants, so you turn on your heel and start to walk toward the door to leave. but as you approach the exit, hao reaches across the door frame— your chest colliding directly with his forearm as he blocks you in.

“c-... can i get through? i have to be in calc iii in fifteen minutes,” you ask with a frown.

hao’s arm stays glued to the other side of the door as he continues to stare at you. “i want a better thank you.”

“you—... why?” you question, brow furrowing in confusion. “i already said thank you. and i didn’t even ask you to lie for me in the first place.”

hao blinks at you. “so you’re not grateful?”

“honestly, you’re kind of making me uncomfortable,” you reply, ducking under his arm and walking back out into the orchestra room. “so if my lack of gratitude means you’re going to go back to humiliating me in front of the entire string ensemble every day... i guess i’ll just have to continue living with it.”

you make it halfway out of the rehearsal room when you hear a faint: “wait.”

you turn around to find a slightly panicked hao still standing in the doorframe of the storage closet.

“you need rosin, right? you ran out?” he asks, as if he couldn’t tell exactly what your problem had been from hearing you play today. “i’ll give you some of mine.”

clearly you’ve just hallucinated. you’re so stressed from yesterday’s events that you’ve started hearing things. or maybe you’re still asleep in your bed at home. or maybe you’re dead. because there’s no way hao would ever give you his beloved rosin.

“let me just get it out of my case,” he says, bending down to the ground and opening up his very expensive violin case. you walk over to him slowly, partly because you don’t believe him and partly because you’re starting to worry something is terribly wrong with him.

“hao, are... are you feeling okay?” you ask, stepping back into the storage closet and watching as he pulls out a fresh cake of premium rosin. it’s a box-shape with rounded edges and no plastic holder, the golden-brown hardened sap shining beautifully even in the dim light of the storage closet.

he stands back up, holding the rosin between his fingers delicately. “never better.”

“you’re—... you’re gonna give me your cimc prize rosin?” you ask, incredibly confused. “why would you do that?”

“because you need it. don’t you?” he answers with a shrug.

“but... but—.” you protest, head spinning a million miles a minute trying to make sense of hao’s bizarre and uncharacteristic display of benevolence. “what’s the catch?”

with no discernible inflection, hao repeats, “the catch.”

“i don’t see why you’d give this to me without a price,” you elaborate skeptically. “you don’t like me. you’re actively mean to me actually. it doesn’t make sense that you’d give me something you value without asking for anything in return. i mean, you couldn’t even randomly choose to cover for me during rehearsal without demanding a thank you after.”

hao considers this for a moment and then nods. “well, what if i ask for the same thing then? in exchange for this rosin, i want a thank you.”

“i can’t even begin to figure out what’s gotten into you today,” you respond with a reluctant sigh, “but fine. i guess i can agree to your terms.”

“we have a deal,” hao affirms with a stupid, perfect smirk. he closes the gap between you, holding out the rosin in his palm. when you try to take it from him, he retracts his hand. “i’ll take the thank you first actually.”

“sure,” you agree, rolling your eyes. “thank you.”

he tilts his head to the side, prompting, “what was that?”

“thank you, hao. i really appreciate you giving me your rosin,” you feed flatly, hoping you’ve finally appeased him.

“an improvement,” he says before shaking his head again. “but i’m still not loving the tone coming out of you... i think you could use some rosin.”

“what do you—” you start to ask, but it’s already too late. without any time to spare, the door is shut behind you and a sudden draft hits your heat as your panties are shoved to the side beneath your skirt. the air leaves your lungs as long, thin fingers dip through your folds and squeeze something cold and smooth inside of you.

“there you go,” hao smiles, incredibly satisfied with the stunt he’s just pulled. “i think that might help your tone.”

“y-you... did you...” you stammer as you gawk at the boy in front of you. your cheeks are beet red at the violation of your sex. you’re in such shock that all you can whisper is, “you can’t put that in... there.”

“an instrument should be well cared for,” he challenges, sinking to his knees and running his hands up and down your bare thighs. “gonna make you sound so pretty.”

there’s a flutter in your core that you desperately want to silence. you could not be turned on by this. one of the men you hate most in this world just shoved a foreign object up you without asking. so why is the hungry look in his eyes as he backs you against the wall of storage units exciting you?

hao hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs. you step out of them without a word. he lifts your right leg over his shoulder, bringing your cunt closer to his face as he holds your hips steady.

he licks a stripe starting just above your opening to your clit as if he wants to taste every inch of you. the sensation makes you gasp and then immediately cover your mouth in shame. were you really enjoying this?

“hm, still an airy sound,” hao observes, eyes locked on your center as his fingers grip into your hips. “definitely needs more rosin.”

he dives back in, lapping at your cunt— tongue flicking your bundle of nerves as your arousal builds. you must’ve fallen into an alternate dimension. fainted. been in a terrible bus accident on your way to campus. but why you’d dream of hao’s head between your thighs in a storage closet is beyond your comprehension.

the more he works you with his mouth, the more hums and sighs escape your lips but all of your worries aren’t eased just yet.

“it’s... it’s gonna melt,” you say softly, starting to feel a bit dizzy. “the r-ros—.”

“rosin starts to crumble from heat at 50 degrees celsius,” hao interjects in between sloppy traces of his tongue. “the average internal temperature of a vagina is 37.5 degrees.”

“but—”

“don’t act like you don’t know how numbers work. aren’t you in calc iii?” hao ridicules, biting gently at your clit. you throw your head back at the sensation as he increases the pressure of his tongue against you. “are you just a fraud in every subject you take?”

“hao,” you beg, his slander just adding to the pleasure you’re feeling as your right hand tangles up in his hair— tugging from the root. “feels so good. so, so good.”

“fuck, that’s beautiful baby,” hao pants, right hand detaching from your hip. he parts your entrance with his fingers, the cake of rosin slipping out into his palm with a crude, wet smack. you both stare at the golden brown block, still perfectly intact but now dripping in your arousal. he drags it down the inside of your thighs, mesmerized by the trail of glistening honey it leaves on your skin. “mm, coated perfectly now.”

he drops the rosin on the floor next to you, replacing the empty space in your pussy with his ring and middle fingers. you gasp at the stretch, clenching involuntarily around him.

“i think you’re ready to play,” hao decides, curling his fingers up inside of you against your front wall and pressing on your clit with his thumb. he watches you intently, mouth open slightly as he drinks in the sight of you writhing in pleasure. “c’mon, baby. let me hear you.”

you do as he says, moaning as the pads of his fingers press into your sweet spot again. with every rhythmic stroke, your sounds grow less inhibited and hao grows more entranced. he’s making the face he usually makes while playing his violin— focused, impassioned, and devastatingly sexy.

was hao enjoying playing you as much as he enjoyed playing his other instrument?

“gon—... gonna make me cum,” you whine after another minute, the look in hao’s eyes turning feral. he immediately returns his mouth to your cunt, sucking at your sensitive bud with a renewed vigor.

as hao brings you closer to the brink of orgasm, your moans only grow louder and sweeter like a crescendo. the harmonic sounds coming out of you are intensified by an increase in the pace of his finger-fucking. it’s all too much for you to handle, your walls spasming around him uncontrollably.

“oh my god, hao—,” you cry, your climax crashing over you like the perfect wave. “c-cumming... i—...”

you can barely hold yourself up, clinging to the shelves on either side of you as hao works you through your high. your breathing returning to normal, he looks up at you as he pulls his fingers out of your pussy— lips pink and glistening with your juices.

he removes your right leg from around his shoulder, eyes locked with yours as he stands up and brushes the dust off his knees.

“th-thank... you,” is what comes out of you as you stare at him, dumbfounded. “thank you.”

“yeah, sure,” hao replies dismissively. after making such a big deal about a thank you, it figures he’d pretend he never cared in the first place. “clean off that rosin and use it next week or i’ll tell professor ahn you stole it from me.”

“oh. okay,” you quietly agree, unable to control the awkward energy that’s now tying your tongue. “um. thanks... again.”

he just shrugs, walking over to the door and picking up his violin case. unlocking the door and pushing it open, he takes a few steps out the door before suddenly stopping in his tracks. he turns over his shoulder to look at you. “i almost forgot to ask...”

you gulp at the sight of the upturned corner of his lip in a smug grin.

“... was it better than jiwoong hyung?”

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gender neutral version below

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: hand/oral (reader receiving), throat fucking with fingers (reader receiving), dubcon: hao does not have consent before inserting fingers into reader's mouth, reader is turned on by this, cum play, bullying.

IF YOU WANT TO COVER YOUR ROSIN IN CUM, YOU CAN I'M NOT THE BOSS OF YOU but from everything i've read in research for this fic, it will ruin it so maybe don't. up to you tho, babe. love you.

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on tuesday afternoons, you had string ensemble in place of advanced drama. although it was a relief to have jiwoong out of sight and out of mind, there was another force at play to deal with.

with your violin case in your hand, you make your way to your seat: second chair, of course. first chair is eternally occupied by your conductor’s most favorite student.

you sit down in your black chair, propping your sheet music booklet up onto your music stand. opening your violin case, you carefully pull out your instrument and begin quietly tuning it as the rest of the string ensemble files in. you place your bow to the strings, playing a note to assess the sound. the note comes out airy and weak and it makes you inherently wince.

“fucking fix that right now,” a familiar voice to your left suddenly demands. “i won’t ask again.”

your left eyebrow peaks in confusion as you mumble, “you didn’t ask a first time.”

“good afternoon, everyone,” professor ahn greets, tapping her conductor’s baton on the frame of her metal music stand. “we have a lot to get to today, so let’s just jump right in.”

shit. you really need rosin.

but there’s no way you can raise your hand and disrupt professor ahn’s flow. she already thinks you’re a second-rate violinist that “hides your lack of talent behind incessant practice”. this was a direct quote you’d received on your evaluation sheet last semester. besides, all professor ahn would probably say was that you should’ve made sure your bow was up to par before you even got to campus.

and why did it still feel so good?

you were foolish to think you could escape what inevitably always happens during string ensemble: the second of your five jerk-off bullies ratting you out in front of the whole orchestra.

hao had seemingly made it his mission to single handedly make you quit violin in a sea of unbearable shame.

so you’re shocked when all hao replies is, “i apologize, professor ahn. i was too engrossed in playing to notice where the error was coming from.”

what the fuck? why would he lie? it couldn’t be to help you. hao would throw you to the wolves without a second thought if it meant remaining superior to you.

“i’m waiting,” is all he says, brow raised expectantly.

you look to your left and right, trying to discern what it is hao could be waiting for. you can’t find anything of note. “um... for what?”

and the shoe drops, you think.

“did you not even notice my act of kindness?” he asks indignantly. “don’t you think i at least deserve a thank you?”

it must be some weird, new power play over you. it’s probably best to make a swift exit and not give him the attention he wants, so you turn on your heel and start to walk toward the door to leave. but as you approach the exit, hao reaches across the door frame— your chest colliding directly with his forearm as he blocks you in.

“c-... can i get through? i have to be in calc iii in fifteen minutes,” you ask with a frown.

hao’s arm stays glued to the other side of the door as he continues to stare at you. “i want a better thank you.”

“you—... why?” you question, brow furrowing in confusion. “i already said thank you. and i didn’t even ask you to lie for me in the first place.”

hao blinks at you. “so you’re not grateful?”

you make it halfway out of the rehearsal room when you hear a faint: “wait.”

you turn around to find a slightly panicked hao still standing in the doorframe of the storage closet.

“you need rosin, right? you ran out?” he asks, as if he couldn’t tell exactly what your problem had been from hearing you play today. “i’ll give you some of mine.”

he stands back up, holding the rosin between his fingers delicately. “never better.”

“you’re—... you’re gonna give me your cimc prize rosin?” you ask, incredibly confused. “why would you do that?”

“because you need it. don’t you?” he answers with a shrug.

“but... but—.” you protest, head spinning a million miles a minute trying to make sense of hao’s bizarre and uncharacteristic display of benevolence. “what’s the catch?”

with no discernible inflection, hao repeats, “the catch.”

hao considers this for a moment and then nods. “well, what if i ask for the same thing then? in exchange for this rosin, i want a thank you.”

“i can’t even begin to figure out what’s gotten into you today,” you respond with a reluctant sigh, “but fine. i guess i can agree to your terms.”

“sure,” you agree with a sigh, rolling your eyes. “thank you.”

he tilts his head to the side, prompting, “what was that?”

“thank you, hao. i really appreciate you giving me your rosin,” you feed flatly, hoping you’ve finally appeased him.

“an improvement,” he says before shaking his head again. “but i’m still not loving the tone coming out of you... maybe your bow needs some rosin.”

“you already know it does! what are you even talking—,” you start to ask, but it’s already too late. without any time to spare, the door is shut behind you and two long, thin fingers are pushed inside of your mouth.

“there you go,” hao smiles, incredibly satisfied with the stunt he’s just pulled. “a thorough coat to get that perfect sound.”

he cups your jaw with his free hand as he shoves his fingers further into your mouth. you gag slightly as he approaches the back of your throat, your cheeks turning beet red at the violation of your body.

“an instrument should be well cared for,” hao says as he removes his fingers from your lips, unbuttoning your jeans as he guides you to sit down in a black music chair. “gonna make you sound so pretty.”

there’s a flutter in your core that you desperately want to silence. you could not be turned on by this. one of the men you hate most in this world just shoved his fingers down your throat without asking. so why is the hungry look in his eyes as he sinks down between your legs exciting you?

hao hooks his fingers around the waistband of your jeans, tugging at them until you finally lift your hips up wordlessly. he discards your underwear next, chuckling sardonically at your continued state of silence.

his lubricated fingers ghost over you, leaving a trail of your own saliva up and down your sex. the sensation makes you gasp and then immediately cover your mouth in shame. were you really enjoying this?

“hm, still an airy sound,” hao observes, eyes locked on your center as his free hand grips your thigh— fingers digging into the soft flesh. “definitely needs more rosin.”

hao pulls your hips closer to him, taking you into his mouth— swirling and sucking at your heat with his tongue. you must’ve fallen into another dimension. fainted. been in a terrible bus accident on your way to campus. but why you’d dream of hao’s head between your thighs in a storage closet is beyond your comprehension.

the more he works you with his mouth, the more hums and sighs escape your lips.

“hao,” you beg, pleasure building as your right hand tangles up in his hair— tugging from the root. “feels so good. so, so good.”

“fuck, that’s beautiful baby,” hao pants, right hand detaching from your hip. “maybe you can even learn something from how i’m playing you. everyone would appreciate that, huh?”

the patronizing insult makes you throb, another whimper falling out of you. he watches you intently, mouth open slightly as he drinks in the sight of you writhing in pleasure. “c’mon, baby. let me hear you.”

with every rhythmic stroke, your sounds grow less inhibited and hao grows more entranced. he’s making the face he usually makes while playing his violin— focused, impassioned, and devastatingly sexy.

was hao enjoying playing you as much as he enjoyed playing his other instrument?

“gon—... gonna make me cum,” you whine after another minute, the look in hao’s eyes turning feral. he immediately returns his mouth to you, sucking at your most sensitive part with a renewed vigor.

as hao brings you closer to the brink of orgasm, your moans only grow louder and sweeter like a crescendo. the harmonic sounds coming out of you are intensified by an increase in the pace of hand. it’s all too much for you to handle, your core beginning to spasm.

“oh my god, hao—,” you cry, your climax crashing over you like the perfect wave. “c-cumming... i—...”

hao pulls out the cake of rosin from his back pocket as he works you through your high, bringing it between your legs and covering it in your release. your breathing slowly returning to normal,he runs the sticky rosin down each of your inner thighs.

“it’s... it’s gonna melt,” you say softly, both hypnotized and concerned. “the r-ros—.”

“rosin starts to crumble from heat at 50 degrees celsius,” hao interjects as he coats the rosin in more of your fluids. “your body temperature is 37 degrees.”

“but—.”

“don’t act like you don’t know how numbers work. aren’t you in calc iii?” hao baits, licking up the last remnants of your orgasm for himself. “are you just a fraud in every subject you take?”

his eyes lock with yours as he stands up and brushes the dust off his knees.

“th-thank... you,” is what comes out of you as you stare up at him, dumbfounded. “thank you.”

“oh. okay,” you quietly agree, unable to control the awkward energy that’s now tying your tongue. “um. thanks... again.”

you gulp at the sight of the upturned corner of his lip in a smug grin.

“... was it better than jiwoong hyung?”

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392 notes · View notes

chubsonthemoon · 2 years ago

Text

Last Binderary book is DONE!!!! This is the incredible Maybe sprout wings, by @moorishflower.

This post is going to be a doozy, so gonna just skip straight to the cut!

INTERIOR

INTRODUCTION

I really wanted to model this bind after my own copy of the Odyssey, (which is all highlighted and bookmarked and annotated to hell from my Great Text courses in undergrad ehe, so this bind was such a fun trip down memory lane!). But beyond just the cover/general aesthetic, I also wanted to give the book a similar feel to these kinds of editions of classics--there's usually an introduction, translation notes, and other supplementary materials, right? Like, a physical manifestation of the work of many, many people, all having conversations with one another across time and space.

So that's what I did! I wrote a short introduction (I will also probably post it to my AO3/my blog as well, in the name of preservation etc. etc.) and began reaching out to folks in the fandom who I knew had created art and meta for the fic. The result? 18k words of analysis, comments, and meta, and nearly twenty pages of art!

And this is what I love most about this bind, I think! This book is the work of several people--truly a collaborative work by the fandom--all of whom I will now be shamelessly calling out below :D

CHAPTER HEADER ART

First and foremost, this book would not be what it is without the gorgeous header art by @fancy-rock-dove! Thank you so much Dove for letting include your work, and for being so supportive and kind these past few weeks about this bind <3 You in particular have contributed so much to this book (which I will be getting more into in the next section ehe), and I'm so psyched I get to hold your art and words, too!

NOTES ON THE TEXT

This section was divided into four parts: Asks and Answers, Meta, Selected Comments, and Chapter Heading Art: Process

For Asks and Answers, I trawled Heather's blog for meta she had written in response to questions and other meta about the fic. Asks came from @fancy-rock-dove, @quillingwords, @kulapti, and myself! (I THINK I got all of them--tumblr's search function is finnicky even on its best days, so so sorry if I missed something T_T) I first got hooked into reading this fic because of one of these asks, so I'm very fond of this section in particular :D

For Meta, I included two wonderful essays written by @pastrypuppy (also known as @kulapti) about Hob as an author figure and the Disrupted Fisher King narrative in MSW. Her analyses were so fascinating and I just had to include them in the book! (And thank you as well for your permission, friend!) (also hello fellow Renegade comrade 🫡)

For Selected Comments, I owe everything to (once again :3) @fancy-rock-dove, whose insights are the epitome of transformative fandom at work. I'd look for their comments after I read every chapter to see what their takes were on this or that element of the story, and every single time I would go "!!!!! I didn't even realize!!!" or "OOOOOOOH I hadn't thought of that!!" It was like being in a lecture hall and always whipping your head around when one of your classmates raised their hand, because you knew they were going to say something fascinating that you hadn't considered before.

Aside from one of my own comments, Dove's comments make up the entirety of this section (for which I owe you my life--your long-form responses to fics are a gift to this world) but GOSH was it also so much fun going through the comments section while typesetting and seeing all the keyboard smashing, yelling, and crying from the other commenters. Communal nature of storytelling and ongoing meaning-making of fanfiction, babey!

And finally for Chapter Heading Art: Process: once again Dove coming in clutch with some wonderful insights into the design of each of the chapter heading art pieces! This kind of stuff is honestly my favorite: meta about art for a fic which is, in turn, a transformation of an existing story (not even to mention that The Sandman is its own kind of fanfiction of existing mythologies and histories)--I just!! Think it's all really, really neat :'D (for more coherent/polished thoughts on this pls see my introduction asjdfkls)

ART

The art gallery!!! A million thanks to @fishfingersandscarves, @honeyseller, @jazzpsych, @doctor-rainbowfoxey, and (HI AGAIN DOVE) @fancy-rock-dove for granting me permission to include all of your beautiful pieces!

As usual for artworks in my binds, I printed each piece out on specialty photo paper to really make the colors pop, then sewed each page separately to the text block! Behold, everyone's beautiful beautiful pieces!

The art gallery also satisfies the certain "oooh shiny" part of my brain that always activates when I see pictures in a book, so am also very fond of this section :3

CONSTRUCTION

And now on to the nitty gritty stuff! I used the German Bradel binding technique again, my second time using it. Even though it's more complicated than the case bind, I really love how it gives you the full board space for the cover designs (~it's free real estate~). Keep it a secret but I kiiiiiiind of made a small goof in the last few steps (I did the turn-ins a step too early and so had to paste an extra sheet of cardstock to secure the spine to the boards, whoopsie), but it's a pretty small difference, aesthetically speaking, so it wasn't the end of the world XD

Edges are once again fake gilded, but this time I tried something new with the colors! I did two layers of acrylic paint--one watered down shade of red for the base, then one metallic gold on top of that. I really like the red/gold effect! I'll have to keep experimenting with this kind of layering:

ALSO. Y'ALL! I think I'm finally getting the hang of endbands!!! Many thanks to the folks at Renegade who hosted all the endband workshops last month--I'm still working through them, but even the few sessions I've seen have been TREMENDOUSLY helpful. I learned that tension is Very Important, as well as thread thickness, so I tried doubling my thread and keeping a Very Close Eye on how I was holding the threads while doing the beads. And behold! I still have a ways to go (and one day I would LOVE to do the fancier designs), but I'm v happy with the progress I've made so far!

And finally the covers!! ARCHIVAL MOD PODGE MY BELOVED. I printed on the same matte presentation paper that I used for the art, then did several coats of archival matte mod podge + a pass of gloss mod podge over the title strip to make it ~shiny~. Then once those had dried and I'd adhered them to the boards, I sprayed two layers of matte clear acrylic sealer (also mod podge!) to finish it off. I had some issues with the paper tearing when I handled it before it was fully dry, but luckily the blemishes were small enough that it was easy to do spot corrections with my black acrylic paint. And now I know to be more patient next time LOL

(some non-photoshoot shots that show the shine a little better!)

FINAL THOUGHTS

I had a lot of thoughts while I was binding this book--about Sandman fandom, about Dreamling fandom, about the Odyssey, about storytelling, about fanbinding, about Binderary, about Renegade, about my friends--but really what came to mind the most was gratitude!

Simply put, I'm so grateful to everyone I've met both in this fandom and throughout the years I've been active online--this is SO fun, y'all. It's so much fun to love stories together--to talk about them, to write them, and of course to bind them! I hope I've adequately conveyed that gratitude.

But of course, this book would not exist without the wonderful words of @moorishflower. Heather, thank you so, SO much for sharing your stories, thoughts, and time with us--it is always a happier, better day when I get an email notif from you and when I see you on my dash. I love your work so much, and I'm so happy I finally get to put it on my shelf! So thank you so much again, for everything <3

and OKAY THAT'S IT FROM ME FOLKS!!!!! Binderary 2023 is officially a wrap! I had SUCH a blast--will probably write up a reflection post on it uhhhh after I take a very long nap ajslkdfjslk _(:3」∠)_

all my love! <3

#the sandman #dreamling #Moorishflower #Maybe sprout wings #binderary2023 #bookbinding #fanbinding #ficbinding #not my fic

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lee-laurent · 3 months ago

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Don't Go Breakin' My Heart - Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke gets his heart broken

content: children, angst, mentions of breakups, kissing, makeouts, mention of sex but no smut, mentions of using sex to cope with emotions, crying, oc x ex!john marino

wc: 4.6k

notes: PART 7!!! i want to thank everyone that still loves this series :) it means the world to me that there are ppl that enjoy my writing!! anywho... this one is a doozy. it was originally longer, but i've decided to split it into two parts! enjoy!!

Tori felt like shit. She felt like locking herself in her room and never talking to anyone ever again. But she's a mother and sadly that is no longer an option. So instead, she sat on the floor next to Riley's drawing table and helped him colour some pictures.

"What's this one?" she asked, pointing to one of the scribbles on his piece of paper.

"Mama and Dada."

Tori just nodded, letting her emotions get to her before she could tell her son how great his picture was. But Riley didn't seem to care, grabbing his red crayon and scribbling away on his picture of "Dada."

"What colour is that, Ri?"

"Red! Like 'ockey!"

"It is! It's red just like Dada's jersey. You're so smart, baba," she ruffled his hair, trying to stay in the moment.

"Pwetty?"

"Yes! All the colours are so pretty!"

Riley beamed at the praise, his attention fully on his artwork.

"Are you gonna give it to Dada?"

"Yes! Pwsent."

"A present? Wow, you're so nice, Ri-Ri."

Riley's face scrunched up in concentration, the crayon pressed against the page. Her heart ached with love for her son, but also the weight of everything that had happened since she met Luke. The kiss with John kept replaying in her mind, making it almost impossible to focus on the bonding moment they were sharing. She wished she could back and erase what had happened, especially the guilt clawing at the inside of her chest.

"More?" Riley asked, holding up the picture to show her.

"It's perfect, Riley. Dada's gonna love it."

He grabbed another crayon, blue this time, and added more lines to his creation. Tori watched, feeling like she was watching her life unravel in slow motion. How was she going to explain this to Luke? How was she going to keep everything from falling apart? Maybe she would take Riley and move back to Pittsburgh.

But as she watched Riley, so happy and innocent, she knew she had to be strong. Riley would be heartbroken if they went to Pittsburgh and he couldn't see his dad. She couldn't let her mistakes ruin everything, especially not for her baby. She had to fix this, to make things right with Luke, even if it meant facing the consequences of her actions.

"Dada's gonna be so happy with his present," she murmured, more to herself than Riley. She just hoped that, somehow, they could all get through this without ending up more broken than before.

She took a deep breath, "How about we add some yellow?"

Riley's eyes lit up, and he eagerly took the crayon from his mom. Tori watched with pride as he added more colour. She knew that no matter what happened with Luke, her priority was Riley's happiness.

When Riley finished his masterpiece, he looked up at her with a grin. "Done, Mama!"

"It's beautiful, Ri-Ri! Dada's gonna be so proud of you!" she pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Riley carefully set the drawing back down on the table, grabbing a new piece of paper. Tori's phone buzzed and she reached to pick it up. Her heart skipped a beat when she noticed it was "Luke <3" flashing across the screen. This was it--the moment she'd been dreading.

"Luke?" she answered, her voice unsteady.

"Hey, Tori. Can we talk?"

Tori swallowed hard, glancing at Riley, who was already starting a new drawing. "Yeah, we can talk. Can you come over?"

There was a pause before Luke answered. "I'll be there in 15."

She looked down at Riley again as Luke hung up. She knew that no matter what happened, she'd shield Riley from it. Not allow herself to yell with him in the room. Riley was her first priority. Always.

When the doorbell rang, Tori jumped, her heart racing. She opened the door to Luke, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Hey."

"Hi," she closed the door behind him, her stomach twisting.

Luke took a glance around the room, his eyes landing on Riley, who was still engrossed in making another drawing. "How's he doing?"

"He's... good. Been working on some art," she replied, her voice tight.

Luke managed a small smile as he walked over to Riley. "Hey, buddy," he greeted, ruffling the toddler's hair. "What're you drawing?"

Riley looked up, his face lighting up at the sight of Luke. "Look 'Uke! Pwsent for Dada!"

Luke's smile faltered for just a moment, but he was quick to recover. "Wow! That's awesome, Ri! I'm sure he'll love it!"

Tori didn't miss the slight change in Luke's demeanor, the way he tried to keep things light for Riley's sake. It only made her feel worse.

"Can we talk?" Luke asked, nodding his head towards the kitchen.

"Of course."

Luke shoved his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the tile of the floor. "I've been distant lately," he began, "And I know you've noticed. I'm sorry, Victoria."

Tori bit her lip, waiting for him to continue.

"I've been trying to figure out if I can handle all of... all of this. Being with you, being in Riley's life, dealing with everything that comes with it," he finally met her eyes. "I didn't want to just jump in without being sure, but I didn't know how to tell you without making you feel like I wasn't committed."

She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, but she blinked them back, determined to stay strong. "I wish you would've talked to me about it," she whispered. "We could've figured it out together."

"I know," he admitted, taking a step closer to her. "I was scared, Vic. Scared of messing things up, of not being good enough for you or Riley. But I'm here now, and I want to make it right."

"Luke, there's something I need to tell you too," she started, her voice trembling. "Something happened... with John."

Luke's expression shifted, the colour draining from his face as he processed her words. "What do you mean, 'something happened?'"

"We kissed. It was a mistake, Luke, I swear. I didn't mean for it to happen, and I regret it so much."

Luke stared at her, shock and hurt written all over his face. He turned away, running a hand through his hair as he tried to process her words. The silence between them was deafening, and Tori felt like she was suffocating under the tension.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Tori wiped at her eyes, her voice breaking as she replied, "I was scared too, Luke. I didn't want to lose you, and I didn't know how to make it right. But I had to be honest with you, even if it means..."

"Even if it means we don't make it through this?" he finished for her, his voice rough with emotion.

She nodded, heart shattering at the thought. "I don't want to lose you, Luke. But I understand if you need time... or if you can't-"

Luke cut her off, backing out of the kitchen. "I don't know what this means for us, Tori. But I need time. A lot of time. I just..."

"I get it. I, uh, I'll talk to you when you're ready."

Luke just nodded, holding back his tears as he exited the apartment. His mind filled with so many thoughts that he forgot to say 'bye' to the toddler who was waving at him as he left.

Tori felt her world crumbling around her. Luke's reaction, while deserved, was devastating. And she knew she needed to sort these feelings out soon. But how would she do that with Riley needing her constant attention?

She picked up her phone, her fingers hovering over the call button next to John's name. She didn't want to tell him what had happened with Luke--not yet, at least. But she needed the space to breathe, to think.

"Hey, V," John's voice came through the line, sounding surprised. "Everything okay?"

"I was wondering if you could come by and take Riley for a little while. I just... I need some time."

"Of course," he replied without hesitation. "Be there soon."

When John arrived, Riley ran up to him excitedly, holding up the drawing he'd made. "'Ook, Dada! Pwsent!"

John's face lit up with a genuine smile as he knelt down to admire the work. "Wow, bud! This is amazing! Thank you!"

As John lifted Riley into his arms, Tori could see how much Riley adored his father. Seeing them together only made her decisions more difficult. She couldn't ruin Riley's happiness, but what about her happiness?

"Ready to go, big guy?"

Riley nodded, clinging to his father.

"John, can I talk you for a second before you go?"

John shifted his attention to Tori, sensing the seriousness in her voice. "Ri, why don't you get your backpack?"

Riley ran off to his room to find his little backpack, probably filling it with toys in the process.

"What's up, Tori?"

Without thinking, Tori stepped forward and kissed him. It was a desperate, searching kiss, one that held all her confusion and longing she couldn't put into words. She needed to know if there was anything left there, anything worth throwing away for Luke.

John was momentarily taken aback, but then he responded, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. The kiss deepened, and for a moment, everything else faded away--the pain, the guilt, the confusion.

When they finally pulled apart, Tori stared at him, breathles and conflicted. "I... I just needed to know."

"And did it help? Did it make things clearer for you?" he held her face in his hands, staring right into her eyes.

She fixed her gaze to the floor, "I'm not sure."

"I'll take Ri for as long as you need. Just let me know."

He turned to go to Riley's room when she grapped his wrist, turning him around.

"Stay," her voice trembled.

John hesitated, searching her eyes for a clue to the turmoil inside her mind. The words Tori wanted to say were stuck in her throat. The last thing she wanted was to lead him on, to make promises she wasn't sure she could keep, but the thought of being alone now felt unbearable.

"Please," she whispered. "Just for a little bit."

He nodded, gently squeezing her hand. "Okay, I'll stay."

Tori released his wrist, leading him to the living room, the air thick with unspoken words.

"Ri will be okay playing in his room for a bit."

John nodded, his eyes never leaving her. "Tori, you don't have to explain anything right now. I'm here for you, whenever you need."

His words only made her feel more conflicted. How could she sit here, next to the father of her child, after what had just happened with her boyfriend? Was he even her boyfriend anymore? And yet, here was John, offering her support without asking for anything in return.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she admitted. "Everything's messed up, and I'm making it worse."

John reached out, intertwining their fingers. "You're doing the best you can. None of this is easy, and it's okay to feel lost."

Tori turned her head away, not wanting John to see her cry, but he gently cupped her cheek, turning her face back towards him.

"Don't hide from me, V," he said softly. "I've seen you at your best and your worst. You don't have to pretend with me."

That broke her. The tears she'd been trying to hold in, spilled over. She let out a shaky breath, letting everything crash down on her. John pulled her into his arms, holding her close as she cried, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"I'm scared, John. I don't want to lose Riley, or you, or Luke."

John pressed a kiss to the top of her head, "You're not going to lose Riley, V. And as for me... I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

She clung to him, still feeling guilty. She didn't know how long they'd sat there cuddling, but eventually, her tears began to subside, leaving her feeling drained but a little more at peace.

"Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me. You're the mother of my only child, Tori. I'm here to help you figure out everything."

"I just... I need time to think. To decide what's best for me and Riley."

"And you've got that time. Look I don't know what's got you feeling like this. But you're not alone."

"Can we... just sit here for a while? I don't want to be alone right now."

"Of course."

Tori rested her head on John's chest, feeling the tension slowly leave her body. She had no idea what the future held for her and Luke; but, for now she let herself find comfort in John's embrace, knowing that for at least for this moment, she wasn't alone.

The next morning, John felt a sense of unease as he left Tori's apartment. The night had been filled with emotional turmoil, but he had stayed with Tori, because she needed someone, and he didn't want her to feel alone. They hadn't crossed any lines after that kiss, but the fact that he'd spent the night at her place could easily be misunderstood--especially by one Mr. Luke Hughes.

John shook off the thought as he got into his car, trying to focus on the day ahead. Practice. He'd already texted Lindy to let him know he was running late, but he wasn't looking forward to facing the guys in the locker room, especially not Luke.

When he finally walked into the Devils' locker room, he could feel the eyes of his teammates on him. John wasn't one to shy away from attention, but today felt different. There was an air of suspicion, that hung over the room.

Morning, Sleeping Beauty," Nico called out with a grin, breaking the silence.

John smirked, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, yeah, I know I'm late. Don't worry, I'll make it up on the ice."

"Where were you, Marino?" Jack chimed in, not letting it go. "You usually don't roll in this late unless something's up."

John hesitated for a moment, glancing around the room. He knew there was no easy way to say it, but lying would only make things worse. "I, uh... I spent the night at Tori's."

The room went quiet. It was the kind of quiet that made you feel like everyone was waiting for something to happen.

Luke, had been tying his skates, suddenly froze. His eyes snapped up to meet John's, and the fury in them was unmistakable. He shot to his feet, fists clenched at his sides. "What did you just say?"

John held up his hands, trying to diffuse the situation before it escalated. "Luke, it's not what you think-"

But Luke wasn't having it. He crossed the room in a few quick strides, shoving John hard in the chest. "You spent the night at her place? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Luke, calm down," Jack interjected, stepping in between them, but Luke was too far gone.

"No, Jack, stay out of this!" Luke snapped, his voice raw with anger. "You think you can just waltz in here and tell me you spent the night with Tori after everything that's happened? What the hell were you thinking, John?"

John's jaw tightened. He understood Luke's reaction, but the accusation still stung. "I wasn't trying to hurt you, Luke. She needed someone, and I was there. That's all."

Luke wasn't buying it. His breathing was heavy, and his fists still clenched. "Bullshit! You've been trying to get back with hers since the moment I showed up. And now you're just... what? Moving in on her because I wasn't there?"

"That's not what happened, and you know it!" John spat back, his own temper flaring now. "I'm Riley's dad, Luke. I was trying to help her out!"

"By staying the night?" Luke's voice was full of sarcasm and disbelief. "You knew we were having issues, and you used it to your advantage. You've always been a selfish prick!"

John's patience snapped. "And you think you're any better? You've been so focused on your own doubts that you've pushed her right back to me. So maybe you should look in the mirror before blaming me for everything!"

Luke lunged at him, and the locker room erupted into chaos. Their teammates rushed to pull them apart, Jack and Nico holding Luke back while Dougie and Dawson grabbed John.

"Enough!" Nico shouted, trying to get control of the situation. "This isn't the place for this shit!"

But Luke wasn't listening. He was seething, his eyes locked on John. "You're dead to me, Marino. Stay the hell away from me, and stay the hell away from Tori!"

John, breathing heavily, didn't reply. The tension between them could've been cut by a knife, and it was clear it wasn't going to be resolved easily.

Lindy walked in just as the chaos was settling down, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. "What the hell is going on in here?" he barked.

"Nothing, coach," Nico quickly covered, trying to defuse the situation before it got any worse. "Just a little disagreement. We'll handle it."

Lindy didn't look convinced, but he nodded curtly. "Handle it fast. We've got practice in five. And I don't want any of this shit spilling onto the ice."

He walked out, but everyone knew this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

John wasn't sure why he decided to go to Tori's after practice. Maybe it was because he wanted to see Riley or maybe it was because he felt the need to protect his family after his dispute with Luke. His emotions were running high and he felt an intense urge to be with Riley, to connect with the one person in his life who brought him genuine joy amid the chaos.

When he walked in, Tori was in the kitchen, trying to distract herself with mundane chores. She looked up, surprised but grateful to see him.

"Hey."

"Hey. Riley's in his room. Playing dinosaurs I think. He'd love to see you."

John opened the door, finding Riley sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by plastic dinosaurs.

"DADA!" he scrambled to his feet, running over to John and throwing his arms around his legs.

"Hey, buddy!" his heart swelled with love for his son. "What're you up to?"

"Pwaying! "Oo pway, Dada?"

"Of course I do," John replied, joining Riley on the floor.

"Dino 'venture!"

"Oh are they going on a dino adventure?"

"Yes! Dino 'venture!"

"Rawr!" John growled playfully.

"RAWR!"

"Wow! You're a scary dinosaur, Ri!"

"No! No scawy! Just Wiley."

"Oh thank goodness it's you, Riley! I thought there was a scary dinosaur in my Riley's room!"

They continued to play dinos, Riley making sure his dad knew that he didn't need to be scared and that they were just toys. The weight of the world was lifted off John's shoulders as he spent time with his son. Riley's laughter lifted his spirits instantly and reminded him of how much he loved his son.

Tori watched from the doorway for a few minutes. Seeing the genuine joy John brought into Riley's life stirred something in Tori. It was a stark reminder of why she had fallen for John in the first place--his effortless love and his ability to bring light into her life during rough times.

After a couple hours of playing, Riley was starting to yawn. John helped him get his pjs on as Tori prepped his bottle. Tori watched as they read dino books together as Riley began to drift off. John tucked him in, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Night, Ri-Ri. I love you," he whispered, going to join Tori in the living room.

"Thank you for coming by tonight. Riley loves spending time with you," she grinned, setting her book down on the coffee table.

"I needed it too. More than you know," he grinned, reaching out to hold her hand.

"John…" she started, "I don't know what to do anymore. Everything feels like a mess."

"I know, V. But right now, all I want is to be here for you. For both of you."

Tori's facade crumbled. She had been holding back her feelings, trying to figure out her emotions. But now, with John so close (and after seeing him bond with Riley), it was hard to resist the pull. She leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close.

They shared a kiss filled with the desperation and longing they both felt. It deepened quickly, and before either of them knew it, they were laying on the couch making out. Tori's hands in John's hair and John's wrapped about her waist.

John was the first to stop, helping Tori up as he led them to her bedroom. Their kisses growing more fervent. They fell back onto the bed together, and for the first time in a long time, Tori took her shirt off and laid back with John hovering over her. His touch was both comforting and electrifying, filled with a sense of familiarity. And Tori was surprised to say that making love felt like they were mending all the broken pieces between them.

Afterward, they lay together in silence, Tori's head resting on John's chest, her leg thrown over his. She couldn't deny the connection that they shared. They both knew that fucking didn't solve their problems, but in that moment, they felt connected in a way they hadn't since they found out they were having a baby together. And for now, this was the only way Tori knew how to bring that feeling back.

Tori woke up the next morning, the warmth of John's body next to hers. The night had been a whirlwind of emotions, but now, as sunlight filtered through the curtains, she found a sense of peace. Her thoughts ran to Riley, who was still asleep in his room.

She slipped out of bed quitely, not wanting to disturb John. As she made her way to Riley's room, she was greeted by the sight of her son snuggled under his hockey-themed blanket, his Winnie the Pooh clutched in his arms, his face peaceful and serene.

She gently shook him awake, knowing that he wouldn't be able to nap later if he slept in, leaving her with an irritable nightmare.

"Good morning, baby," she whispered, brushing some hair from his face.

"Mornin', Mama," his tiny hands reaching up for a hug.

Tori lifted him from his crib and carried him to the kitchen. She was eager to start the day, to make it as perfect as possible. The dream she had been chasing for so long seemed to be within reach. John and Riley together felt like she'd finally gotten the ideal family she had always envisioned.

She set Riley up with breakfast, watching as he happily dug into his cheerios and sliced strawberry. Tori busied herself preparing a fresh pot of coffee, her mind racing with thoughts of the future. She imagined what her life could look like as a picture-perfect family, with John and Riley by her side. It felt right. It felt like she'd always wanted it to be since she first found out about Riley's existence.

John joined them in the kitchen, his presence bringing normalcy and comfort with it. He kissed Tori on the cheek, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Morning, big guy."

"Mornin', Dada!" Riley exclaimed.

They enjoyed breakfast together, and Tori couldn't help but revel in the warmth and closeness of their family unit. It was like a dream come true. Riley's little giggles and John's easy banter made her feel more relaxed than she had in ages. She was living the life she's always dreamed of.

As she showered, she imagined their future. Family picnics, holidays together, and cozy evenings spent at home. The idea of a perfect family with John seemed so tangible that it was hard to consider anything else. The dream was intoxicating.

In the midst of her euphoria of spending a day at home with her family, the idea of reaching out to Luke didn't come to mind once. The idea of confronting the complexities of their relationship seemed distant compared to the joy she was feeling with her boys.

That evening as she sat on the couch with John, his arms wrapped around her waist, Riley playing happily with his cars, she felt so much fulfillment. She was determined to hold onto this feeling, no matter what the future tried to throw her way.

Luke sat in the dark of his bedroom, the only light coming from the TV across from his bed. A show was playing, but he wasn't paying attention, zoning out and losing focus every couple minutes. The rage he had felt in the locker room had gone down and now was just a flicker in his chest. He felt more betrayal and confusion now than anger.

How could Tori do that? How could John, someone he used to see as a teammate he could look up to, stab him in the back? Spend the night with his girlfriend? Luke thought over every moment he'd spent with Tori and Riley, wondering it was all just a lie.

He felt betrayed by both Tori and John. Tori, who he had fallen for deeply and quickly, had kissed another man. And not just any man, her ex-boyfriend, the father of her child--while Luke was trying to figure out if he even belonged in her life. And John, a teammate and supposed friend, had gone behind his back. It felt like the rug had been pulled from under him, and he was left flailing his arms as he lost his balance.

Luke had always prided himself on keeping his cool, not being as quick to temper as his brothers, but this? This was too much. The frustration of trying to fit into this ready-made family, the doubts he had about being there for both Riley and Tori, and now this-- it all came crashing down on him. And he didn't know how to process it.

Jack knocked on his door, letting himself in without waiting for an answer. "Hey man. You okay?"

Luke shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. His throat was tight with the effort of holding back tears and keeping his composure.

"I get it. This sucks. It's messed up. But you gotta keep your head, okay? Don't let Marino and Tori mess with you. You need to focus on you and what you want."

"What I want?" Luke managed, his voice hoarse. "What I want is to go back to when things were simple. Before all this... this bullshit."

"I know. But you can't. You've got to deal with it now. What do you want to do? Do you still want to be with her?"

Luke's heart ached at the question. He wanted to be with Tori; that much was clear. He was in love with her. But how could he be with someone who kissed another man--her ex, no less-- while they were still trying to figure things out? Could he trust her again? Would things ever be the same?

"I don't know, Jack. I don't know if I can do this."

Jack just nodded, offering silent support to his brother. Luke was at a crossroads, and he had no idea which direction to take.

For now, all he knew was that he needed more space-- from Tori, from John, from everyone. He needed time to think, to process, and to figure out what the hell he was going to do next.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #luke hughes #john marino #njd imagine

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tieronecrush · 1 year ago

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hot & heavy

epilogue: our love is going gold

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 17.2k (but she's done. like done, done.)

warnings (**SPOLIERS**): NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is now 10 y/o), nanny au, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, mariposa, etc.), established relationship, engagement, marriage, alcohol, eating, very lovey romantic, polite southern manners, spanish/spanglish cause joel is latino, soft joel, domestic joel, WIFE!! GUY!! JOEL!!, discussion of parenting, step-parenting, struggles with conceiving, negative self talk and image, smut, soft dom joel, fingering, oral (f receiving), joel worships the ground his wife walks on and also her body, praise, unprotected p in v (they're tryna get pregnant, not you!), breeding kink, sort of nursing kink? joel is briefly obsessed with your tits and makes comments, mating press, a flash of cumplay, the BRIEFEST mention of daddy kink, joel really wants to give his wife a baby, pregnancy, a mention of giving birth, girl dad joel, CUTE FAMILY!!!

also this is the song mentioned <3 it's a fave of mine and i think very joel & mari

a/n: this has been a doozy but happy to hand this over to y'all. this is simply what i envisioned for their future, and if you had different thoughts, i would love to hear them! <3 or if you have any headcanons for their life beyond this, drop them in my inbox! this fic and these characters are my children and i love them very much. will probably keep them alive somehow. and thank you to everyone who's read this series, you are all so special to me and have sincerely made me feel so much more confident in my writing!

as always, thank you thank you thank you @northernbluess for beta-ing, couldn't do it without you! and this extremely long ending is dedicated to el and kiwi @kiwisbell you are my hype people fr

i feel like i need to say like signing off on h&h now lol so this is me doing that & closing the book!

** this is set over three additional summers post-main story **

first of many

After the holidays, it was an easy decision to move in with Joel and Sarah. The Millers had joined your family for their annual, lowkey celebrations; spending Christmas Eve with Joel and Sarah, it was a treat to witness him playing Santa after Sarah had gone to bed. Only a few curses under his breath putting together the new dollhouse she’d requested from St Nick, the other presents from her father, and your gifts to her carefully wrapped under the tree. The two of you split the plate of cookies while watching A Christmas Story, you and Joel taking turns mumbling the words to the iconic scenes under your breaths.

The next morning, your heart was overwhelmed with the love that you hold for this family that has welcomed you in and made you a part of it. Sarah gifted you a photo frame that she’d made at school, painted with flowers and butterflies, and a photo of the three of you from the trip to the apple orchard you’d taken that fall. Once Sarah was occupied with her new treasures, gifts were exchanged between you and Joel. Requesting to gift first, you stand up from the couch and tiptoe around Sarah and her new dolls sprawled across the floor to the front hall closet and retrieve a brand new, custom acoustic guitar.

Sitting back with him, guitar placed into his hands and his eyes combing over it, his lips part with a gasping breath when he notices in the inlay of ‘SME’ for his daughter’s name, Sarah Elena.

“The old one in the corner of your room was lookin’ a little worse for wear, and I hadn’t seen you play it in a while…” you trail off in the silence, waiting for his response, “Do you—do you like it? Is it the right kind? I tried to match it the best I could to the one upstairs.”

“Oh, Mari baby, I love it. It’s beautiful, thank you so much…” He shakes his head, taking another sighing exhale in appreciation as he turns it in his hands. “Hadn’t played the other one 'cause it wasn’t quite playable anymore. Restrung it a few too many times, the wood was warped from some water damage. The perils of having a toddler around years ago. This is…it’s perfect, Mariposa.”

You beam, shifting in your seat and anxiously fiddling with your fingers. Joel sets the instrument down next to him carefully, turning back to you. He leans in, kissing you delicately and whispering another ‘thank you’ against your lips, “Guess m’gonna have to serenade you now.”

“Oh, yeah, J. I expect one nightly,” you playfully respond, kissing him again before he pulls away, his turn to stand from his place on the couch.

He wanders over to the tree, plucking the last wrapped gift from under it, and returning to sit next to you. Handing over the small rectangular box, you unwrap it gingerly, glancing at Joel’s knee bouncing. You gently set your hand on it, smiling at him which he returns, biting his lip to channel his jittery energy. Opening the box, you’re met with the shining gold links of a beautiful charm bracelet. Your eyes wander over the small icons, feeling your chest tighten with love as you take them all in: A small ‘S’ with a ruby-colored stone at each end of the curve, a matching ‘J’ with a sapphire embedded into it right next to the ‘S; there’s a tiny gold key, nearly identical to the one he had given to you those three summers before for your job that started it all; a tiny set of longhorn antlers that is reminiscent of home; a lighthouse that reminds you of one you visited while living in Boston, a day you had documented and sent Joel some of the photos in the mail to recap your time. It was a day you had been happy there, and it made your heart ache that he remembered that. The last charm on the bracelet is a butterfly, bejeweled with kelly green stones, the color of the leaves that you told him were your favorite years ago. The ache in your chest is worked out of its knot with Joel’s hand at your back, a gasping breath as you blink back tears.

Clearing your throat, your watery smile has a flash of worry crossing his eyes before you hand him the bracelet you’ve taken out of the box, lightly requesting, “Will you put it on for me?”

Joel nods shyly, taking the dainty piece in his hands, and hooking the clasp around your wrist after a few tries. You both admire it, your smile growing wider and his matching yours.

“Merry Christmas, Mari baby. I love you.”

“Merry Christmas, J. I love you, too.”

Now, months later, the bracelet on your wrist glints in the sun as you hold onto Sarah’s hand, letting her lead you around the atrium filled with butterflies. Spending the day at the same farm you three had visited summers ago, and had kept up with the tradition with the summers following, you picked an abundance of strawberries, wandered through the nature paths, and now ending the day at the youngest Miller’s favorite spot.

Sarah wildly points out the different types of butterflies, the encyclopedia book of the insect’s species that you had gifted her for Christmas coming in handy for today as she reads the small signs of each patterned, winged creature, adding in her tidbits that she remembers. A grin stays plastered on your face as you listen intently, paying no mind to Joel trailing behind the two of you.

Giving your lessons on the flora that you know of in the gardens, Sarah listens to you as well. Stopping in front of the small waterfall, surrounded by tropical plants and flowers, the two of you go back and forth in fun facts about plants and butterflies, unaware as Joel saddles up behind you. Sarah glances back over her shoulder and grins, the expression reading as knowing and mischievous. Before turning around, you start to warn Joel behind you playfully, “J, if you’re even thinking about pushing me or splashing me, I will ki—”

Your breath catches when you finally face him, eyes dropping to meet his; the backpack he’d be adamant about carrying all day is at his feet, unzipped, and in his hands is a small, forest-green velvet box. Joel rests on one knee, a soft but bright, devoted smile on his face.

“Oh my god…” It comes from your lips as a whisper, your free hand reaching up to cover your mouth while the other continues to tether you to Sarah at your side, her small giggle hitting your ears as Joel glances at her, sending her a wink.

Eyes back on your face, Joel clears his throat, adjusting himself on his knee as he takes a deep breath, “I have been trying to figure out exactly what to say, and I can’t seem to find quite the right words that tell you exactly how I feel about you. I love you, so much, Mariposa. The second you entered my life, that time I saw you for only seconds in your backyard while I was touring the house, I knew I had to meet you. And then the first time I met you, well, I knew that you were who I needed.

“I’ve been walking around blind, trying to figure out life for years, and moving next door to you, that was the last piece falling into place. You have made my life, and Sarah’s life, a million times better. And while these past few years haven’t been picture-perfect for us, we made it through, and I know that we can take on anything that comes our way. Eres el alma más hermosa que he conocido, y soy muy afortunada de tenerte. (You are the most beautiful soul I have ever met, and I am so lucky to have you.) I’ve been waiting for years to do this, Mari baby, and I can’t have any more summers pass by without you being mine. Tú eres mi media naranja. (You’re my soulmate.) I love you. Te amo, Mari. You’re my soulmate, sweet girl, and I can’t take another day without the promise of forever. Will you marry me, Mariposa?”

Without hesitation, you nod your head frantically, your tears that started falling as soon as Joel started speaking continue to flow. You uncover your mouth, squeezing Sarah’s hand and sharing a smile with her before she takes her hand away.

“Yes, oh my gosh, Joel…of course, of course, I’ll marry you. I love you so much, J.” You squat down in front of him, left hand trembling as you hold it out for him. He carefully takes the ring from the box, and Sarah, ever the helper, takes it from the spot where it rests on his knee for safekeeping. The delicate gold band slips onto your finger, embellished with clusters of tiny gems and centered with an emerald cut diamond. It’s perfectly you, and you can’t wipe the smile off your face as you watch Joel settle the piece of jewelry on your finger. Both of you take a deep breath, admiring the sight before your eyes find each other’s again, matching expressions of complete admiration. Your hands find his cheeks, pulling him in for a tenderly passionate kiss, attempting to breathe all the love in your chest into the kiss and his heart. Joel pulls away first, resting his forehead against yours for a quiet moment.

“Thank you, J,” you whisper, and his head tilts with curiosity.

“For what, baby? I think I should be thankin’ you for sayin’ yes to me.” He chuckles and rubs his thumb at the back of your hand, skimming next to the band of the new addition.

“Everything. For not giving up. Your patience when I was still finding my way back to you. How effortlessly you’ve welcomed me into your life and your family…” Cheating your body away, one hand reaches out to pull Sarah into the small huddle, reuniting the moment within your unit of three, “I just—I can’t wait for all my summers to be spent with you both.”

“I can’t wait either. This is gonna be the first of many, Mari baby.”

And the two of you really couldn’t wait.

Only a week after Joel was down on one knee, your family was throwing you an engagement party. Tommy, a few of Joel’s close friends from his contracting company, your college friends, and neighbors were all in attendance to celebrate the two of you, and it was a big to-do. Drinks flowing, music playing, and food was being passed around. Everything under the warmth of a Texas night and the strung lights across the stretch of your parents’ backyard. Joel was glued to your side the entire night, hand on your back or clasped in yours, grabbing your refills and whispering in your ear to make you laugh.

“So…are all of these people coming to the wedding? ‘Cause I can count about half that I have no idea who they are.”

To that, you whispered back, “I don’t know them either, so definitely not. Unless they wanna buy us the most expensive thing on the registry.” Joel laughed, squeezing you closer — if it were even possible — and pressing a kiss to your temple.

Later, once you two were far past tipsy, Joel mumbled against your ear, barely able to get the words out without drunkenly giggling himself, “D’you think Mrs. Clarke is thinkin’ m’the one that got away?”

You couldn’t contain your laughter, bursting out in the middle of the conversation happening around you two, quickly covering your mouth as the lingering hiccups escape, “I think she’s singin’ the blues about you, Miller.”

The rest of the evening was filled with small moments between the two of you; never left alone long enough to have a full conversation on your own. Whispers of love and affection breathed out, fleeting kisses exchanged. It wasn’t until the party was over, everyone dwindled out the door and back to their homes, that you and Joel took a beat to speak to each other in more than one sentence. The early hours of the morning had crept in without anyone quite noticing, and Sarah was knocked out, brought inside to sleep in your old bedroom around 10pm when she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. Joel now held her in his arms, her head laying on his shoulder while the three of you walked the short distance home. After your quiet goodnight to Sarah that went unheard by her sleeping self, Joel put her down, taking off her shoes and leaving her undisturbed to sleep in her clothes.

Back in the ensuite of your, now, shared bedroom, you’re lazily getting ready for bed, movements slower and lagging from the alcohol you consumed. Joel stands behind you, facing your reflection in the mirror and giving you a smile as the exhaustion catches up to him.

“You have fun tonight, sweet girl?” His vocal cords rub together in a fry, hands finding their place on your waist and drawing you back into his chest. Littering kisses at the back of your neck, he hums contently before you affectionately shoo him off to brush his teeth while you apply your skincare.

“‘Course I did, J. Spent most of the night with you, how could I not have fun?” You grin at him from in front of your side of the double sinks, gently rubbing in your moisturizer. “Have you given any thought as to when you wanna set a date for?”

Whatever he responds is muffled by the foamy toothpaste, your face twisting in confusion before he leans over and spits out, rinsing his mouth and toothbrush. Standing back up, he rests his hip against the countertop while facing you, shrugging as he smirks slightly, “As soon as possible. Baby, I’d get married to ya in a garbage dump if it meant we could get married right this second. No puedo esperar para hacerte mi esposa. (Can’t wait to make you my wife.) And I know you don’t want that, and I want to make you happy, so whenever you want, Mari. Lo que sea que desees, lo haré realidad. (Whatever you wish for, I’ll make a reality.) But I will say, summer’s kind of our thing.”

A gentle smile stretches across your lips as you step closer, hands coming to rest on his chest and massaging your fingers gently into the muscles there, “Well, how about we do this summer? I mean, I don’t want anything fancy, just something special for us. Thought maybe we could do it here, in our backyard and my parents’. Where we met and fell in love and broke up and fell in love again and—”

“I love that idea, sweetheart. Think it’s perfect for us…” Joel punctuates his work by stealing a kiss, mint and strawberry lip balm melting on his tongue when he deepens it only for a few seconds, “Think we can manage for Labor Day weekend, mi amor?”

Nodding confidently, your hands skate up to his shoulders, pulling him down for another kiss, “I believe we just set our wedding date, Miller.”

“Damn right, we did, Miller.”

A whirlwind of planning and three months later, you now stand in your childhood bedroom on the second floor of your parent’s house, admiring yourself in the full-length mirror standing in the corner. Your mom had helped you with your hair, a small gold barette holding one side away from your face; your makeup was fairly minimal, fresh, and bright, but nothing too heavy that would melt in the heat that has graced Austin this weekend.

On your wrist is your charm bracelet from Joel, a simple gold locket to match that your father had gifted you the evening before at the rehearsal dinner — it has belonged to his grandmother, and now your grandma wanted you to have it since she couldn’t make the trip down due to her age. It was your ‘something old’ he said, playing into the old traditions that seemed to charm your entire family.

Your ‘something borrowed’ was a pair of white strappy sandals from your mom, ones that she had worn to her rehearsal dinner when she married your dad. The title of ‘something new’ belonged to the charm hanging off of your wrist that was hand-delivered to you this morning from Tommy, per the request of Joel since you both were getting ready in opposite houses. The gift box unveiled a gold lotus flower, hand painted with deep magenta petals. Inside the lid of the box was a folded note, the words written by your soon-to-be husband in his usual scrawl.

Mi amor,

Got to reading one of your books you leave around about plants, and they were talking about the lotus flower. Made me think of you — since they go back to the murky water each evening and open their blooms at the break of day. You always start fresh, sweet girl, you’re so resilient and strong and pure of heart. No matter what happens, you get through it. And you won’t have to go at it alone, baby. I’m gonna be right there with you through anything.

You make me a better man.

Te amo, mi media naranja.

You had to touch up your makeup after having read the note over and over for minutes straight, now fresh faced and eager to get downstairs. One last time in the mirror, you give yourself the once over, smoothing the long, full skirt of your linen dress. The ruched empire bodice lays across your chest, framing your neck with a square shape along with the cap sleeves. Simple, but it feels perfectly you. And now, you were finally on your way to get your something blue: Joel in his navy suit, waiting at the end of the aisle for you.

Everyone’s gathered in their seats, only a crowd of around forty people from your lives occupying the rows, all carefully selected to make the cut. It was easy for Joel, he had three people he wanted there for sure, and well, his daughter didn’t have a choice living right next door, plus with her dad being the groom, and you being the bride. The only chance of a wild card he had was Tommy, but he was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning despite the many shots he had the night prior. At the rehearsal dinner of all places.

Dressed and gaffed, he stands at the end of the short aisle after having walked down it hand-in-hand with Sarah, who was donning a lilac dress she picked out with your help and her hair in her natural, bouncy curls. She now sits next to Tommy in the front row, whose new girlfriend Maria is sitting on the other side of him, stealing peeks over the back of the seat to try to catch a glimpse of you at the top of the deck stairs. Joel is doing the same, eyes flickering from scanning over the crowd to tunneling at the opening of the stairs.

Music starts and it immediately tunes out of his ears, a tingle of excitement radiating from his chest throughout his body. A vision in white, you appear at the stairs with your arm linked to your dad, Mark; he isn’t paying attention to anything but you, captivated by your beauty. His heartbeat kicks up when you walk down, reaching the end of the grassy path between rows of chairs, and stopping for a moment. With the bouquet in one hand, you use the other that was resting on your dad’s arm to give him a short wave that he returns with a grin.

Each step you take brings up tears in his eyes, an overwhelming joy clenching around his heart. A few drop down his cheeks, using one of his thumbs to wipe away the streaks as you give him a gentle smile, speeding up your walk and dragging your dad along with you. The guests laugh at the eagerness, Joel rocking on the balls of his feet as he bites back his wild grin when you finally reach him. Exchanging hugs with your dad, Mark shakes Joel’s hand before clapping him on the back, a sure nod directed to him.

His hand slips into yours naturally, helping you with the last few steps to stand in front of him, exhaling a deep breath. A smile that he can’t wipe off stretches across his face, looking into your eyes as he lifts a hand to wipe his cheeks. You do the same, delicate touch against his skin while your gaze stays trained on his. Beating out of his chest, his heart thumps deeply, the wings of his butterfly fluttering madly in his gut in time with his heartbeat.

“Hey, Mari.”

“Hi, J.”

Everyone settles back in their seats, and your brother stands at the makeshift altar, a carved arbor handmade by Joel over the last few months frames the three of you in front of your guests. You turn to hand off the wildflower bouquet you put together to Sarah, eager to fulfill her responsibility of holding it during the ceremony. She grins, whispering to you loud enough for him to hear when she takes the arrangement.

“You look so pretty, Posey. I’m excited for you to marry Daddy.” Your hand reaches for her curls, squatting down in your dress to address her at eye level, unconditional love shining in your eyes as you look at his daughter.

“You look beautiful, Sare Bear. I’m so excited, too.” Other words are exchanged only between the two of you, a hug shared before Sarah retreats to her chair next to Tommy and you stand up and take Joel’s hands.

Chris ambles through an introduction, recollecting his version of events, as well as both of your sides, for how your relationship has progressed. Humor was laced throughout, laughter bubbling over throughout the crowd of guests, and especially between the two of you when you shared knowing expressions.

The ceremony moves quickly, with no religious elements to extend the length, simply secular. Before he knows it, Chris is reaching the vows, allowing a moment for Tommy to present the rings to each of you, clapping a hand on his brother’s back.

“Don’t fuck this one up, brother. Posey’s a good ‘un. Way too good for you—”

Joel cuts him off with a mumble and an eye roll, “I know all of this, Tommy, but thank you for the reminder.”

Chris directs Joel to go first, a deep inhale and extended exhale fills the air as you give his hands a reassuring squeeze. He flashes a smile at you before he drops one of your hands, finishing in his inside jacket pocket for the small slip of paper.

“I tried to memorize this, but we both know that wasn’t gonna happen…” he huffs out a nervous chuckle, reading over the page before his eyes come back to you, a patient and gentle grin on your face, “I genuinely hope you know how much I love you. I try to show you, to tell you, to make you feel it through osmosis every day, but I truly hope you can feel it. Through all that we have been through together and on our own, I have always had you in my mind. I thought about you every day you were away, and all I was hoping for was your happiness. I cannot tell you what it means that you have found your happiness with me, but I will be thanking whatever forces are out there for bringing us back together. Our roads may have been bumpy, and they may be in the future, but I’m so thankful to have you in my passenger seat. Cause we both know you don’t like to drive.” Joel winks and the crowd of guests laugh.

“I never want to let go. And I’m never going to let you go, Mariposa, I’m in it for the long run. Eres todo para mí. (You are everything to me.) You are everything I have ever asked for, hoped for, didn't think I deserved. You are…un alma tan pura (such a pure soul) and I don't know how you ended up with me, but I'm countin’ my luck every second of every day. I love you through anything, mi Mariposa, and I cannot wait for our future together, as a family. I’m so happy that you have found a place you belong with Sarah and me, and I feel so lucky that you have chosen me. Te amo, mi Mariposa. Siempre.”

Recovering from your tears, you choke out a small sob that tugs on his heartstrings, tightening his grip on your hand while his brow furrows softly in concern.

“Happy tears, I promise, J. Very happy tears.” Another sob comes with a burst of laughter, a hand of yours fanning your face. Joel reaches up, wiping away the stragglers, careful to not smudge any of your mascara. With a deep breath, you focus back, centered, offering Joel your left hand. He repeats the phrase from Chris, who recites it from his printed-out online ordainment course before slipping the simple matching gold band onto your finger above your engagement ring, ears ringing when he sees the symbol of his love and commitment on your finger, where it will stay for the rest of his time on this Earth.

Next, it was your turn to recite your vows, Chris pulled a piece of paper from his jacket and handed it to you. A giggle slips from your lips, wavering the small folded sheet, “Couldn’t memorize it either. Got too much to say…”

Joel relaxes in his stance, thumb circling the back of your palm as he listens, the butterfly wings fluttering into his chest and up to his head, love overwhelming his nervous system across his body. You clear your throat, looking up from the wrinkled white sheet, “I didn’t know that one summer spent at home would completely send me on a whole new life path, but looking back, I am eternally grateful that I wanted to mooch off my parents for as long as possible. That first summer, I fell hard and fast, and despite the obstacles, my love continued to root deeper inside of me and grow out new branches with every memory we made together. I am so lucky to have been welcomed so easily into the Miller household, and I cannot imagine my life with you or Sarah there right next to me. You both have brought so much into my life and thanks to you, J, I feel like I have truly found myself.

“I was always searching for what I was meant to do, who I was meant to be, and what I would leave behind in my life. And while I went out searching everywhere, the answer was my next-door neighbor. I am meant to be your person, I was meant to care and love and create a life with you, and your wonderful daughter, and I know I will leave behind all my love for you and our family behind. My success does not need to be measured by the reach of my impact, but by how deeply I love you. That is all that matters to me, to make you feel loved and supported and to know how incredible you are. You mean the world to me, and I love Sarah as if she were my own; both of you are my best friends and I could not do this life without you. I am so excited to spend the rest of my days, and the rest of my summers with you, J. I love you. Forever.”

The same routine goes for you, slipping a gold band around Joel’s left ring finger. He flexes with the new accessory on his hand, admiring it before he looks at you, a wide and wild grin crossing his face as he listens as Chris starts to ask him that very special question, “Joel, do you ta—”

“Absolutely I do. No question.”

Laughter rises from the attendees, and you, playfully roll your eyes. Chris nods shortly, chuckling as he turns to address you with the same question. He states your name, inquiring, “Do you ta—”

“Of course, I do. Only been waitin’ years for this to happen.”

Joel laughs, shaking his head as he mumbles a sweet agreement, “You and me both, baby.”

Chris drops the papers he was reading from next to him on the grass, clasping his hands together, “Well, that made it damn easy for me. With the power vested in me by apparently the state of Texas, but who really knows, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Now y’all can kiss finally.”

A hand presses against the small of your back, pulling you into his chest as he folds down, latching your lips to his in a deep kiss, all of his love pouring into the moment. It takes restraint to not take it further in front of everyone, your intoxicating taste drawing him in and quenching a perpetual thirst he has. You lean back first, fingertips digging into his shoulders to hold him off as you whisper, “Gotta keep some decorum until tonight, Mr. Miller.”

“Hard to do that with you, Mrs. Miller,” he rasps back, matching blindingly bright grins across your faces as you right yourself, turning to face your guests as your brother loudly announces.

“For the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Miller!”

With the low-key, intimate wedding that you both had planned together, there was no real formal separation of the ceremony and reception. Instead, everyone wandered over to the backyard of Joel’s home, which was now yours, too. There were rented tables set up with chairs around, no seating chart, and a checkered dance floor set up in the middle of the lawn. Lights have been strung from his deck to the tree at the back of the property line that holds Sarah’s tire swing, some lanterns strewn about to add more light as the sun sets in the later evening.

The family-favorite restaurant in the city that the three of you have frequented, even as friends, catered the meal, and your parents, ever so prepared, had stocked up all summer with booze. Your dad plays pretend bartender, getting your now-husband behind the tablecloth-covered folding table and pouring heavy drinks and somehow heavier shots. By sundown, everyone was liquored up enough to cheer for you both to have a first dance, chanting their request over and over.

Joel looks at you from his spot next to you, eyebrows raising in question. His hand at your back draws you closer, starting to sway to whatever song is playing as he grins with a looseness to him, relieved to have you as his for good and relaxed from the alcohol in his blood. “C’mon, Mari baby, I wanna dance with you. M’wife. I got the perfect song.”

“Okay, okay, you go tell Chris what song you want and see if he’s got it on his iPod.”

You push Joel along, giggling to yourself as he shuffles over to Chris, the makeshift DJ for the evening. Joel leans in, talking in your brother’s ear over the music currently playing. They exchange a smile and nod, Joel laying a hand on his shoulder and shaking it affectionately. His beer gets abandoned on the nearest surface, giddily running over to you and taking your hand. Impatiently, he pulls you to the center of the dance floor, and Tommy intercepts your drink before it sloshes all over the front of you, huffing out a disbelieving breath as you continue to drag behind Joel.

Your husband turns you in his arms, one hand finding your back as the other lifts your joined ones toward his shoulder, elbows bent. Everyone else clears the dancefloor as an upbeat guitar riff sounds out of the speakers surrounding the dancefloor, the bright drums kicking in as Joel starts to shuffle the two of you around the dancefloor, a swing to your movements again.

The familiar lyrics of Orleans’ Still the One that Joel has sung to you many times over the last year are recited right back to you, making you reminisce about the time you were driving in the car to pick up Sarah from camp, a rare afternoon that both of you had off together. The song had come onto Joel’s favorite classic rock station, perking him up in his seat as he turned the volume dial up.

“Oh, Mari baby, this is such a great song.”

Not as familiar with it, you listen, giggling as he sings along with his words pointed at you, and you had to admit, they were pretty sickly sweet. Ever since then, Joel got into the habit of singing it to you, learning to play it after he received his new guitar from you at Christmas.

Dancing with him now, under the sticky heat of the tail end of Texan summer, surrounded by family and friends, he makes you feel as if it’s only the two of you again like it was for every other moment before with this same song.

In your ear, he sings along only for you, pulling away and twirling you as y’all take over the entire dancefloor with how free and loose you’re playing it. “You’re still the one that makes me laugh…still the one that’s my better half…we’re still havin’ fun and you’re still the one.”

At the next chorus, you join him in singing along, laughing at his excitement, both of you singing along louder. The song reaches the guitar solo, and Joel takes both of your hands, swinging you out from his chest before pulling you back in; he spins you to cross your arms in front of you, and your back to his chest before twirling you out. On the last line, when the final word is dragged out, he wraps his arms around you, spinning both of you around until the final chord strikes, setting you down and chests heaving to catch your breaths. Wide smiles still find your open mouths, cheers and whistles from the guests gathered around the dancefloor, now filling the checkered floor as the next song plays.

Breathless, Joel grins madly, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly before asking, “Think we did pretty damn good for unplanned, don’t you, Miller?”

“Damn right, we did, Miller.”

The rest of the evening was all the same, a night spent with your closest family and friends all celebrating the two of you and your love. Both you and Joel shared a dance with Sarah separately, relishing in her unbridled joy and Joel comforted his daughter when she shed a few tears about how happy she was. Your dad pulled you for a short jaunt around the dancefloor, and Joel asked your mom for a dance, which she accepted happily as a stand-in for his mom.

More drinks flowed into glasses and out of bottles, your shoes kicked off and Joel’s jacket and tie discarded onto the back of a chair somewhere. Your cheeks ached from how much you were smiling and laughing the whole time, a weight lifted, the promise of forever with your favorite person now on its way to being a reality.

You both ceremoniously cut the small single-tiered cake that your mom ordered, serving the slice on a plate. Grabbing a piece with your hands, you cheers it with Joel’s, watching as his went into his mouth and laughing as yours went across his cheek. He feigned shock, shaking his head as he looked at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes, taking a step closer. A turn on the ball of your foot directs you in an attempt to get away; failing miserably, misstepping from your level of drunkenness, Joel catches you in his arms. Turning you back around to face him, he steals a purposefully sloppy kiss, buttercream smearing against your lips and chin, the taste of vanilla coating your tongue as it melts into the taste of Joel, whiskey, beer, and sugary sweetness from the dessert.

At the very end of the night, most guests in cabs home or retreat to their homes down the street, it’s left to your closest people. The last song of the night is announced by Chris, the same song that has come up again and again for the two of you trilling over the speakers. Everyone dances and sings along to American Pie, the perfect cyclical moment for the two of you, and the closing moment of your summer. Sarah dances with the two of you, laughing as Joel twirls her around, infectious smiles on their faces.

Your heart grows in your chest, nearly to the point of bursting as you take a step back in your mind, taking in all of the moment as it surrounds you. In the backyard of your new house, the next chapter of your life starts with Joel and Sarah; right next door is your childhood home, full of love and memories with your parents and brother. Even through the hardships, these places and people have never stopped feeling like home.

The song finishes with a flourish, Joel tucking you into his chest after he scoops Sarah into his arms with a soft groan. Sarah lays her head on her dad drowsily and he presses a kiss to her forehead, mirroring the same on yours; a mumble against your skin is barely heard by you, his drawl exaggerated by the liquor, “Mi Mariposa y mariposita. My lil’ Bug. Love my girls so much.”

Tommy slides sleepy Sarah into his arms from Joel after you two say goodnight to her, the younger Miller brother already prepared the arrangement for her to stay at his on the night of your wedding. You reassure her the promise to meet at Waffle House in the morning, which will likely be the afternoon with the state of the adults. Maria, the designated driver, and Tommy, much closer to sober than drunk than you were expecting, send another congratulations your way before they’re off to the car with Sarah.

After the necessary sweep of cleaning is done between you two and your immediate family, food, drink, and lanterns gathered, they part ways, taking everything back to theirs to deal with in the morning along with striking down the tables, chairs, and dancefloor. In the quiet of the early morning hours, you and Joel stand with your arms around each other, swaying gently. Cheek to chest, Joel’s voice rasps from overuse, vibrating your ear pressed against him, “Was it what you wanted, sweet girl?”

“Everything and more, J. I loved it,” you say as you pull your head away, tilting your chin to look into his eyes, “And I love you, m’husband.”

“I love you more, m’wife.” He shakes his head, biting a smile back, “Don’t think m’ever gonna get tired of callin’ you that, Mari.”

“Me neither. Gonna be callin’ you my husband instead of usin’ your name,” you flirt as your smirk grows and he wiggles his eyebrows, hand drifting down to the curve of your ass.

“Guess we better test that theory, baby.” He grins as he bends his knees, lifting you over his shoulder. His other hand rests on your ass to balance you, your hands pressing against his lower back as you shriek slightly from the initial shock. “Want the whole neighborhood to know m’your husband now. Even if they weren’t invited, so you better be loud, m’gorgeous wife.”

He walks you both up the stairs and through the backdoor, your snort echoing in the quiet of the night, pulling out the ol’ faithful from the early days with him, “Yes, sir.”

second nature

“What do you think about getting a dog?” you ask from your seat on the bed, propped up against the headboard with a book in your lap. Joel pops his head out from the en-suite, brow quirked as he continues to towel off his hair and laugh softly.

“Can’t say I’ve thought about it, darlin’.” He disappears again, hanging his towel on the back of the door before coming back out of the bathroom with a clean pair of boxers on, washed up from his long day on-site. “Have you been thinking about getting a dog?”

A sheepish grin stretches across your face, shrugging your shoulders as Joel gets into bed. He matches your position, leaning back against the headboard and turning his head toward you. He’s intrigued. If he wasn’t, he’d tell you that you could talk about it more in the morning, and then he would give you his honest opinion in the light of day. Never wanting to start a silly argument before bed, always attempting to keep the peace.

Which made him great at compromising. To what you wanted in the first place.

“I’ve been thinking it would be nice for Sarah. Like something to learn responsibility — teaching her to feed it on schedule and take it for walks and fill the water bowl.”

“Yeah, it’ll teach her that I’ll take on all those responsibilities when she gets bored of it,” your husband snorts at his own comment, making you roll your eyes playfully and scoot closer.

“Oh, c’mon, J. Don’t you think it would be fun to have a dog around? We wouldn’t even need to get a puppy if you think it’s too much. But I work at home nannying baby Amelia so I’d be around all day and then when Sarah gets home from school or camp, she can take him or her for a walk. And then feed it before you even get home. Oh! Or you could take the dog to work with you! How cute would that be, you could train him to grab your tools for you.”

A contagious smile brightens your face in the low lamplight, one that Joel can’t help but mirror on his own face. The eagerness is evident in your expression and your voice, and the proposition doesn’t seem like it would be too difficult of an adjustment. Shaking his head at your suggestions, he laughs quietly while reaching a hair up to smooth your hair away from your face.

“Are you gonna be the one to teach it what all the different screwdrivers are?”

An excited gasp exhales and you scramble to straddle Joel’s lap, “Wait, are you serious? You’re actually okay with getting a dog?”

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you lean back to look at his face. His hands find the curve where your thighs melt into your ass, squeezing gently. Always handsy.

“Yeah, baby, we can get a dog.” Joel groans dramatically when you pull yourself tight against him, hugging him while on hand rubs back and forth at the base of your spine. “I’ve got some conditions though.”

Unraveling from his neck, you stay perched in his lap, nodding fervently. “Anything. Whatever you want, if it means we get a dog.”

“Oh, anything?” he teases with another squeeze of your bum, laughing when you shoot him a look.

“Not what I meant, Miller. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Can’t help it with you, sweet girl. My mind’s always in the gutter around you.” The sentiment is punctuation with a tender kiss to your lips and one to your forehead. Calloused palms skate along your bare thighs, humming contently, “Conditions are: has to be a big dog. Don’t want one of those little white dogs or like something that’ll break if we have babies and they’re a little rough with it.”

The forethought he has for your future children warms your heart, and you agree immediately, “Deal. Didn’t want a little dog anyways. What else?”

“Gotta fence in the backyard. I don’t mind putting in a gate for us and your parents to easily go back and forth through, but I don’t want the chance of the dog gettin’ out when we’re all outside.”

“Totally understandable. I’ll even help you install the fence,” you offer proudly.

“That’s real sweet, Mari baby, thank you. You don’t gotta lift a finger though, I’ll bring some of the guys over and pay a little extra and we’ll get it done in a day, no problem.”

“Alright, so big dog, fence. Anything else you’d like to negotiate, Mr. Miller?” you mock a formal tone, turning your nose up. Joel laughs, tightening his arms around your waist and tugging you closer. Kisses press into your neck and along your jaw, pausing inches away from your lips as he makes his final request.

“Dog sleeps in Sarah’s room or downstairs. I like our privacy.” He smirks before kissing you deeply, easily flipping you onto your back and hovering above you. Your legs hook around his waist and he raises his eyebrows, “That all sound fair to you, Mariposa?”

“Absolutely it does. Guess we’re getting a dog, ri—” You’re cut off by his lips on yours again, pressing you further into the mattress with his body weight.

“Let’s save the rest of this for the morning,” Joel mumbles against your skin as he trails his mouth down your neck to your collarbone, “‘Cause right now, I think I’d rather get some pussy.”

He doubles over in laughter at his own joke, forehead pressing against your chest as his shoulders heave. Your fingers comb into his hair, unable to fight quiet chuckles of your own no matter how hard you try to not give him the satisfaction.

“God, you’re such a dork.”

The clock rolls to 3pm as you sit in your car, lined up along with parents of campers. Shrills of laughter and screams echo from the bright, primary-colored playground across the way, counselors attempting to corral the kids to lead them out for pick-up. Air conditioning blasts on you as you fan at the back of your neck, exhaling in the sweltering Texan heat. It’s only the beginning of summer, June barely having turned over, but the temperatures have reached record highs for the year already.

Your stepdaughter. The thought still makes you smile months on, the dynamic between the two of you falling naturally into a closer, more nurturing relationship. Little acknowledgments from Sarah have made your heart sing over the days; routinely saying goodnight to you along with Joel, asking you for permission to go play outside, seeking you out nearly as much as Joel when she has had a nightmare. The pair of you have built routines of your own before bed, you making a promise to Sarah to read with her and to show her your favorite books from when you were her age.

A few nights ago, Sarah had retreated with you to her room, at least thirty minutes before her bedtime to get in another chapter of Matilda by Roald Dahl. The main character reminded you of Sarah’s sweet and spunky personality, and you were so excited that she fell in love with the story and its characters as quickly as you did when you read it for the first time.

Sat up against her headboard, Sarah laid back in your arms and cracked open the novel where her bookmark stuck out, started to read aloud to you in the low lamplight. Mindlessly, you played with her hair as you listened to her confidently recite the words from the page. The day caught up to you, the peaceful moment pulled a yawn from your lungs. Sarah’s words slowed down, her eyes slowly blinking until they closed, which was your queue to slip the book from her hands and mark the spot, and laid it on her nightstand.

When you tried to slip out from behind her to leave her to sleep soundly, she stirred, mumbling the sweetest, “Will you stay for a little bit, Posey?”

And you had no choice but to oblige her request. After getting comfortable next to her, Sarah curled into your side and you pressed a kiss to her forehead, continued to play with her hair to soothe her back to sleep.

What you hadn’t realized was that you also drifted off in her twin bed with her, the lamp still on. Joel was watching TV downstairs, waiting for you to retreat down the steps as you do every night, but no sign of you after an hour had him standing up to go searching. It was quiet when he reached the top of the stairs, no telling giggles or loud whispers to give the two of you away.

He pushed open the cracked door of Sarah’s bedroom, and was met with a sight that squeezed his heart tight, a sigh exhaled from his lungs. You tucked right next to his little one, and both slept deeply. Without disturbing your rest, he tiptoed over to the nightstand, tugged the blanket up over both of you before he hovered above the bed to press a gentle kiss to each of your foreheads.

Lamp clicked off, he whispered to your unconscious ears, “G’night, girls. Love you two.”

It was a few hours before your usual alarm when you’d woken up, sore from the small space and glanced around the dark room to discover you had fallen asleep next to Sarah. Carefully slipped out from the covers, you tucked her back in and padded down the hall to your bedroom where Joel was sleeping, a soft snore came from him as he’d starfished out on the mattress. You gently shook him half awake to move him, and he groaned softly at the disruption before he tugged you into his chest and pressed a drowsy kiss to your shoulder.

“Was jus’ too cute to wake you up, Mari baby. My Mariposa and my lil’ Bug…” He hummed sleepily into your skin, hand gently rubbed circles in your lower belly while your eyes close, desperate for those last few hours of slumber. “Makes me so happy.”

“Me too, J. M’so, so happy she’s that comfortable with me. My baby best friend. And you’re my big baby best friend…” You breathed out an airy giggle and Joel protested weakly behind you, a gentle pinch to your side before you both exchanged a quick “love you” and drifted right back off.

The reminder of the sweet moment in the morning from Joel was the highlight of your week.

Climbing out of the car, the engine running and door open, you round the front bumper and stand on the curb to wait. You find her before she finds you, calling out to her to grab her attention, “Hey, sweet pea!”

Her familiar deep brown irises search for the source of your voice, landing on your face and waving excitedly. Sarah checks out with her counselor for the day, scurrying over to you with her backpack bouncing at her shoulders.

“Hi, Posey!”

She collides with your torso, her growth spurts finally starting over the last few months so the top of her head hits just at your chest, and nearly knocks the wind out of you. Patting her back, you laugh and pull her back to look her in the face, “Well, hello to you too, Sare Bear. How was camp today? You ready to go?”

After your greetings, she climbs into the backseat on the opposite side of Amelia’s car seat. You store her bag in the passenger seat with yours before retreating around to the driver’s side, heading off once both of you are secured in your seatbelts.

Flicking your eyes up in the rearview mirror, the two of you catch up, which mostly consists of her recapping the camp activities and excitedly talking about the pool day that’s planned for Friday. As you turn onto your street, Sarah’s brow furrows at the sight of Joel’s truck in the driveway.

“Dad’s home already? That’s weird.”

“Hm, I guess he is. Or maybe he’s just stopped by to grab something he forgot. You know how he is.”

Sarah laughs in agreement as you park your car next to his truck. Both of you get out and head in through the garage, straight into the kitchen where Joel’s standing at the counter eating a sandwich.

“Told you, Sare, stopped by ‘cause he forgot something. Lunch.” You send him a teasing grin as you deposit Sarah’s bag by the door and kick off your sandals. She does the same before wandering past her dad to the fridge in search of a snack. Apple doesn’t fall far.

“What? I can’t happen to drop in hoping to see my wife and my daughter in the middle of my work day? Do I have to have ulterior motives?” Joel speaks, words muffling around the bite in his mouth as you approach the island to stand opposite him.

“Dad, you literally always ask ��What’s for dinner?’ or ‘What’s cookin’?’ after you say hi to us every day. Your motivation is always to get some food,” Sarah chimes in from in front of the fridge, laughing when Joel looks at her offended.

“See? Even a ten year old recognizes the pattern of behavior,” you confirm your findings, laughing as Joel grumbles to himself and pops the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth.

“Well, for your information, both of you, I am here for an entirely different reason than lunch and to see you two.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking between the two of you with a mischievous smile on his face. “Why don’t y’all go look in the living room and then tell me if you wanna keep makin’ fun of Dad?”

Sarah excitedly starts off toward the living room, giddy about the surprise awaiting her. Your brow furrows and lips twist up in curiosity, eyes staying glued to Joel. He laughs and nods to the other room, a bright smile on his face.

“Better go see, mi amor. Think you’ll want to meet him.” Joel winks, your attention being pulled away when you both hear Sarah gasp from the living room.

“Oh my gosh! Posey, come here! Aw!”

That’s when it registers — the surprise, home in the middle of the day, the smirk, ‘you’ll want to meet him’.

“You didn’t,” you breathe out, head snapping back to Joel as he gives you a wide, genuine grin.

“Go! See for yourself.” He rounds the island and grabs your hips from behind, guiding your steps into the living room. Sarah’s giggles fill the room as the fluffy Bernese Mountain puppy stands in her lap and licks at her face. The small dog’s attention is pulled from her and over to you and Joel entering the room, a tiny bark sounding before he scampers over.

“Joel, oh my god, how did you—when—oh my god…” You kneel down to scoop up the little one into your arms and cuddle it gently, giving it pets before letting him run around again.

“Found someone who had a litter with their family dogs the day after we talked about it. And arranged to pick him up. They said he’s the energetic one, and that he’s gonna be a big boy. Like a hundred pounds.”

“Oh my god, he’s so sweet…thank you, J.” You beam up at him, waving him to bend down and steal a kiss, squeezing his shoulder.

Sarah’s playing with your new family dog, tugging with a rope toy as he fights back with his whole little body. “Thank you, Dad. He’s so cute!”

“What should we name him?” Joel asks as he lowers himself to the floor next to you, smiling as the puppy runs over. The two rough house, Joel easily flipping him over to scratch at his belly as the dog pants happily.

“Any ideas, Sare?” you ask, looking over at her.

She thinks for a moment before looking up between Joel and you, laughing at the tiny pup’s antics, “What about Goose? He just seems like one. Like a silly goose.”

“Goose? I like it, Bug,” Joel confirms, turning to you with a grin, “How about you, Mari?”

Nodding, you look at the new addition to the family, burning bright with happiness at your people’s excitement, “I think Goose is a perfect fit. And now you’re not outnumbered anymore, J. Two girls and two boys in the Miller household.”

Sarah laughs and lays down to cuddle with Goose while Joel moves closer to your side, wrapping an arm around you and kissing your head as he quietly whispers, “Hopefully won’t be too long before the boys are outnumbered again.”

“And what makes you say it won’t be us girls being outnumbered?”

“Call it father’s intuition. Wouldn’t know what to do with a little boy, bein’ a dad to another girl would just be second nature. Plus, I would want a mini Mari running around the world.” Joel presses a kiss to your temple before you turn your head, catching his pursed lips with yours sweetly.

“I’d take anything if it means havin’ a little piece of you forever, J.”

third time lucky

Negative.

A single line, bold and brash, stares back at you. Turning the plastic in your hands, you attempt to read it at different angles, the smallest bit of hope lingering for another line to appear — that it was a trick of the light that was causing your disappointment.

To no avail, the blue strip remains unaccompanied in the small window. A sinking feeling fills your body from your toes up. Everything feels heavier, except your lower stomach. That has never felt as empty as it is now.

Heavy footsteps thump a vibration in the floors, but your focus remains on a speck of dust floating in the light past your field of vision. His presence hangs in the bedroom, milling about, unknowing of what you were up to before he came in from mowing the lawn.

“Hey, baby, m’gonna take a shower and then we’ve got Sarah’s softball game at three. Probably half to leave here around two, her coach asked all the parents to be thirty minutes early for some reason…” Joel’s voice fades in your head as your thoughts start to yell, scream, fight, taunt inside of your mind.

A hard swallow pops your ears, the ringing in them growing louder as your mind begins to wander. The test is left discarded on the bathroom counter, with no heart yet to throw it in the garbage where the others have ended up. Your bare feet shuffle against the rug as you seek out solace under covers, even in the ninety-plus-degree heat. The springs of the mattress shift under your weight, lying on your side facing the opposite side of the bed that lays empty right now. The coverlet is pulled up over you, curling your fingers at the hem tightly, white knuckle grip to release some of the tension that has taken over your mind. You want to scream, cry, yell, question — but what you want most of all is to be able.

Why aren’t you able? Why can’t you do what your body is made to do, what it begs for, what it reminds you that you’ve failed at every month?

Joel stands in observation of you, careful distance, one hand lifting before he drops it. He can guess what this is about. What you’ve left behind in the en-suite. But to confirm his suspicions, he quietly walks into the tiled room, leaving his clean clothes on the counter while he picks up the test.

Negative.

His body sinks, toes up to his head, but with a gaping, empty feeling in his chest. There’s so much room left in his heart, room he is eager to fill with another part of you, another love, another soul to protect. Now, though, all of his emptiness is filled with an ache for you. You’ve been dreaming out loud for a year now, wonderings and visions shared with him late nights and early mornings — Will they have his eyes? You hope so, so that they look like their sister. Who’s ears would they have? What quirks will they pick up from both of you? Who will they grow up to be? How will we be able to contain our love for both of our kids?

Our kids. Joel remembers that night; after you said that, he couldn’t hold himself back, couldn’t contain his love for you. No hesitation that his own was yours now, too. All he wanted was to give you another, to see your belly grow and your smile brighten and your skin glow. He was begging for whatever power was in the universe for that time to take, for both of you to be gifted with what you wished for so often, so deeply.

Desperation. Wavering confidence. Sorrow, worry, dwindling hope. He saw it all over you, time after time when the single line appeared on the plastic sticks.

You and Joel had been trying for a year. A long year. Maybe your desire was too strong, too overpowering. But shouldn’t that be a sign of your love? For each other, for your family? All he wants to do is give you the life you’ve wished for. And yes, all you’ve said you want is a life with him, but anyone who meets you would be able to tell you are meant for a nurturing life. Meant for motherhood.

It was already natural for you, taking a ten-year-old in stride, making her into your best friend — making her a priority over Joel most of the time. He knew it didn’t matter to you that she wasn’t yours, biologically speaking, but he can’t help but want to give you a child that is part you. How badly he wants another piece of you in the world, all of your goodness packaged into the purest soul.

Resigning with a sigh, he sets the test down on the cool countertop and exits the bathroom, a slow stride over to your lying form. Crumpled under covers. With a soft groan, he lowers himself to his knees with cracks popping his joints. His age is starting to show the closer he gets to forty and the more hours he works in the summer weather, another looming factor for him — he’s only known being a young dad. If you two have to wait, what would it be like to be nearly sixty when your kid graduates high school?

Shaking the superficial concerns from his head, his wide palm glides along the quilted fabric draped over your side. He rests his chin on his opposite arm, laying against the mattress close to your pillow. At the coax of his touch, you turn over to face him. Lips pursed in a frown, dried watery streaks being washed anew with your fresh tears, fat and rolling down your cheeks and over the bridge of your nose. They drip off of your skin, dotting and darkening the fabric of the pillowcase underneath you.

Joel leans in, brushing your hair from your face and pressing his lips to your forehead for a lingering kiss. A deep breath draws the smell of your shampoo into his nose, down deep into his lungs where it soothes his aching chest.

“Mari, sweet girl, I know it’s hard. I know we want it so bad, but there’s always another option,” he speaks softly, kindly, delicately, “We can go to that fertility specialist your doctor recommended. I promise, mi amor, we’ll have a baby together.”

He means it, and you can tell he means it. Ever since you had been back together, ever since he confessed his feelings for you — years ago now — he hasn’t made an empty promise. From tiny little things like a pledge to stop on the way home for your favorite ice cream, going to three different stores and adding nearly an hour to his day simply to show up with it for you, to larger, grander oaths, his wedding vows, the promise of building a beautiful life with you.

Emotion is thick in your throat as you attempt to vocalize your concerns. They keep you up at night, with Joel’s warm and expansive hand resting on your stomach right above your womb as he sleeps soundly. He wants it clearly as much as you do; you can feel it each time you’ve tried. How badly he wants to provide this for you.

Is he having the same thoughts as you? Does he wonder if something’s ‘wrong’ with you?

“I wanna be able to do it. Why can’t I do it on my own?” The sound of your meek voice shatters his heart and he shakes his head back and forth, adamant in shutting down the thoughts.

Tugging the covers down, Joel’s hands find your exposed skin, sliding across with a clammy touch from his labor outside. And nerves, too, you’d guess. Moving from his knees on the floor next to the bed, he finds a spot sitting at your side and shifts you to lay on your back. Opening up to him. Warmth rests over your womb, blanket pulled down to the tops of your thighs while his thumb brushes at your stomach, catching on the fabric of your shirt.

“No—oh, mi Mariposa, you don’t even know if it would be you with an issue. Very well could be me. Maybe breathin’ all the paint fumes at work killed m’little swimmers.” He breathes a small laugh through his nose, attempting to lighten the mood.

Your hands fly up to your face, muffling your voice, “Oh, god, don’t say that. I wanna have your baby, not some sperm donors.”

His hand coasts up your torso, over to your side to wrap around your rib cage, feeling your breaths as his fingertips lightly tickle the spot, “That was supposed to make you laugh, sweet girl.”

Hands falling away from your face, your brow pinches together and your frown deepens. About to make a retort, your mouth open, Joel skates the fingertips of both his hands up and down your sides, alternated on each side of you to make it harder to catch his wrists. Laughter bubbles up from your chest, your frown morphing into a flashing smile before you’re calling for a surrender in between gasping breaths.

Relenting, his hands stop, settling at the curve of your waist. He leans over you, nudging his nose against yours before pressing a ghosting kiss to your lips. A small grin, hopeful and reassuring, with a tinge of worry flickering in his irises, barely there before his smile reaches his eyes, “It’ll happen for us, Mari baby. Why don’t we say, one last go before lookin’ into the doctors? We’ll do all the things, track whatever we need to track. I’ll drop whatever I need to come home and put a baby in you.”

Joel wiggles his eyebrows, playful smirk crossing his expression. You roll your eyes under him, pushing an accusing finger into his chest, “Like you don’t already do that. I could call you in the middle of work and just go ‘Hey, J’ and you’re in the truck on your way home.”

“That’s right, Mari. As it should be. Y’know what they say — happy wife, happy life.” Another kiss to your lips, this one a bit more savoring. “What d’ya say, mi amor? One more go?”

“Okay, yeah. One more go.”

Butterflies kick up in your stomach when you hear the low rumble of Joel’s truck cut, heavy door swinging closed and quick strides following. The front door opens after a short jingle of keys, shutting behind him with the slide of the lock back into place. Distant grumbles of his make you laugh, his frustrations with his work boots floating upstairs to where you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, leaning back on your hands. Clad in only your bra and panties, you work your bottom lip between your teeth as anticipation builds with each of Joel’s footsteps up the carpeted stairs.

You both only have the afternoon — less than an hour of your afternoon, actually — to make your last attempt. Already having taken advantage of the window in your cycle twice, the peak day of your ovulation fell, of course, during the busiest time of year for Miller Construction. Summer has come to a close, and now people have picked up their home improvements to start nesting for the winter; a craving you’ve been having yourself, desperate to make your home larger and livelier by one more. Joel has snuck away for a moment that you two have alone, and you’ve told the couple you nanny for that you have an immovable appointment for today.

Pretty sure the only thing that will be immovable today will be you once Joel’s hour is up.

“Mari? Mi amor?” he calls out and you chuckle softly at the boyish excitement in his voice.

“In the bedroom, J!”

Joel rounds the doorway into your shared room, stopping a handful of steps past the threshold when he registers the sight of you. He hums a low moan, licking his lips as his eyes devour your lacy undergarments, “Mierda, mi esposa, estás tratando de matarme? (Shit, my wife, are you trying to kill me?) You look so fucking beautiful, darlin’.”

A low whistle leaves his lips as he stalks closer, eyes rake over your form as you present your primped self for his taking.

“You get all pretty for me, sweet girl? I like this…” he rasps as he’s within arm’s reach now, stretching a hand out to toy with the strap of your bra and snapping it against your skin sharply.

“Wanted to look pretty when you fill me up, J.” One curl of his finger under your chin draws you to sit up straight, tilting your head back to look at Joel towering over you.

“Good girl,” he praises, a glint of excitement in his eyes, “You want me to fill up your sweet little cunt, Mariposa? Want me to give you a baby? Tell me.”

“Yes,” you breathe out shakily, eyelids fluttering closed as his hands trail lightly across your exposed skin, ghosting everywhere you need him most.

“More, sweetheart. Dime. Dime cuánto lo deseas. Suplicar por ello. (Tell me. Tell me how badly you want it. Beg for it.)” His instructions float through your head, only keywords translating in while Joel leaves over you, lips pressing feather-light kisses along your neck, across your chest.

“I need it, Joel. Need you so fucking bad, I wanna have your baby. Want you to make me a mom, fill me up as many times as it takes until we get our baby…please, J…” As if the taste of you wasn’t enough to do him in, the wild, fervent look in your eyes intrigues him beyond. Hearing the words from your lips, directed to him, he’s fucking aching. He was growing hard on his way over here, the thoughts swimming through his mind of you laid out and ready for him to take delegating his blood supply to rush down below his belt.

He needs you, but first, he needs to see you unraveling underneath him only from his fingers.

“Don’t worry your pretty little mind, Mari. M’gonna take care of you. I’ll make sure this one takes. Let’s call it third time lucky this summer.”

He shoots you a wink, your mouth parting to respond. Before you can let any breath escape, his lips are crashing with yours. Heavy, heady, and so fucking hot it spirals your thoughts into nothing. His tongue melts with yours, the taste of his black coffee and the donut he must have eaten at work this morning tingling your taste buds. Sweat sticks to his skin when your hands rest at the sides of his neck, falling backwards as he climbs over you. He smells of wood shavings, freshly mowed grass, and hard work — calloused hands gliding along your body and feeling the softest of scratches of his blue collar hands.

“Joel, need you — please.” It’s more of a whine than a begging whimper, rising frustration levels from his lack of touch in the place you need and want him the most.

Your cunt is desperate, dripping down your folds and surely soaking the sheets. A quick jerk of your hips attempts to brush against him, to catch any relief for the need building low in your stomach. A large palm presses your lower half back against the mattress, the other hand pushing your leg to the side to open you up further for him. A knuckle brushes your clit, grazing up and down your seam through your soaked panties. Your husband clicks his tongue as he shakes his head at you, patronizing tone slick in his voice.

“Darlin’, I wanna take every second of my time with you. Are you gonna let me? Gonna let me get your cunt squeezing my fingers? Gonna let me fill you up, mi amor?” he asks, as if you wouldn’t say yes to all of those requests and he knows it. Nodding, a desperate yes exhaled when he applies more pressure with his finger against your clit, rubbing slow circles. “Good girl. Siempre tan bueno para mí. (Always so good for me.)”

Joel folds over your, taking one of your perked nipples into his mouth through your bra and sucking. His tongue flattens against the cup before he’s pulling at the nub with his teeth. The material is darkened where his mouth was when he grows a bit more needy, grabbing at the straps and yanking the bra to rest at your midsection. You slip your arms out of the straps and he pushes you further onto the bed by the back of your thighs, stripping your panties off and settling on his knees.

Pressure forms against your clit from two of his fingers, slow circles dragging a moan from your throat. Joel smirks, satisfied with the way you squirm under him, trying and failing to get more from his hands. Before you can vocalize a whine, Joel is over you again, bringing his attention to your now bare breast while the circles continue. Hot, humid kisses are littered on the soft skin, happy hums rolling from Joel’s chest. He pulls his head up, looking down at your chest with a half grin and his dimple on display.

“You’re gonna get so soft and swollen everywhere, Mariposa. Round belly, huge tits—can’t wait to play with ‘em.” His grin widens, boyish and brazen with the glee that the fact fills him with. “You gonna let me, baby? Gonna let me make your sore tits feel better with my mouth?”

His question goes unanswered as his mouth attaches to one of your nipples, sucking and flattening his tongue as he nurses it. Pulling away with a pop, he mimics the same on the other side, the intensity of his suckling along with his fingers rubbing faster against your clit — even slipping down to tease at your entrance — has you wiggling under him, desperation notching up your spine.

“Joel, please,” you plead, choking on your breath when he pulls the bud of your breast between his teeth, a low growling sound rumbling from his throat.

Two of his thick fingers push into your dripping cunt, a relieved moan echoing against the walls of the bedroom. Curling up into your spongy walls, they thrust quickly and pet at the certain spot inside of you. Joel’s mouth is still at your chest, his hunger feeding itself on the taste of your skin.

“Fuck, Mari, gonna break my fucking fingers off. So fucking tight.”

A distraught whimper crawls from your chest, breaths heaving as your walls clench around his quick-paced fingers. You gasp when he slips a third one in, hooking them up. Despite the stretch, you still feel an emptiness. All you want is his cock inside of you, spilling into you and leaving you to grow fuller with his baby. The thoughts of him above you, fucking it all deeper into you to reach your womb, drive you over the edge. The tips of his fingers press against that spot inside of you, his warm mouth hanging open at your tit while his eyes watch you come undone. Writhing and walls pulsing around his fingers, his name falls from your mouth as you choke out moans and your vision grows dark.

“That’s it, Mari baby, fuck,” Joel works you through the orgasm before his fingers leave you and he sits back on his haunches. Sucking his digits clean of your slick and come, the other hand rubs your thigh gently before he coos down at you, “That was a big one, wasn’t it? Feel good?”

Still coming down from it all, your body feels liquidity, taking whatever form Joel is molding you into right now after he’s stripped himself bare. One hand slips under you, unclasping your bra and tugging it away from your torso, leaving you as naked as him. His eyes drink in your body while his grip holds your calves, chuckling darkly when you finally breathe out a response, “I feel…like I need you to put a baby in me.”

“Cualquier cosa para usted, mi esposa. Vas a estar tan lleno de mí. Te encanta la sensación de mi mecos dentro de ti, ¿verdad? (Anything for you, my wife. You're going to be so full of me. You love the feeling of my cum inside of you, don't you?)” Your head rolls with a nod, agreeing to anything Joel says in the moment, still hazy from how hard he’d made you come moments ago. Half-lidded eyes watch as he licks his fingers, stroking his cock a few times with a quiet sigh. That’s something you could watch all day — Joel’s pleasure. And here underneath him, you have the perfect view, and the perfect position to be used for it.

Fully handing over control to him, his hands tug you up so your ass sits on his thighs while he’s on his knees. Fingertips skate along the distance of your legs, grabbing at your calves to rest them on his broad shoulders. Even the slightest shift forward from his hips stretches you wide, a delicious ache creating a craving for more.

“Tell me how bad you want it, Mari, tell me how much you wanna have my baby.”

Joel’s gripping his length, rubbing his tip through your wet folds. The notches against your clit quiver the already stretched muscles in your thighs, whines replacing words coming out of your mouth.

“Tell me, or I won’t give you what you want, mi amor.”

“I want it so bad, J. I wanna feel you fuck me so full of you, and I don’t want that feeling to leave. I feel like there’s an emptiness and only you can fill it, I want your baby. Wanna have everyone know how good I am for you, carrying your baby like you want me to. I wanna have a part of you forever,” you gasp out the last word, Joel’s cock inching into you. Muscle memory takes over, your whole body relaxing with the knowledge that he’ll take care of you — he’ll always take care of you.

Joel bottoms out easily, filling you to the hilt before he pauses to take a breath. His eyes meet yours and he smiles, sweet and sincere, while holding your shins, “I fucking love you, mi Mariposa. Wanna give you a baby…”

“Pleasepleaseplease—” You don’t know if you’re begging more for him to give you what you want or to move his hips, but in the end, you get both.

Joel starts out slow, shallow thrusts keeping him inside of you. Grunts from the controlled movements fill the room, your small whimpers following each noise he makes. The sound of him fucking into your cunt captures his attention, gaze zeroed in on where you two meet. Watching the stretch of your tight pussy around his cock, he feels the burning desire for more. To watch you take it deeper, harder.

The next snap of his hips is just that - smacking his skin against your ass before he adjusts, laying you back completely on the mattress and leaning over you. Your legs are still hooked over his shoulders, the burning of your muscles now straining your hamstrings and glutes. His entire body folds you, his head hovering over yours as he fucks into you further. The tip of his cock kisses your womb, the force of his thrusts driving your hips open more for him.

“Gonna — fuck — gonna make you a momma, Mariposa. That what you want? Get fucked so well, be so full of me that we make a baby? Everybody’s gonna know I treat my wife right. With your round belly…swollen—ah—swollen tits. Gonna be so beautiful, and so fucking sensitive everywhere.”

His words only add onto the feeling of his thick cock filling you up, nearly verging on too far and too much. Moans exhale on your lips, his name repeated like a chant with each harsh snap of him into you. Your hands scramble for purchase as his sheer power drives you up the mattress, sheets scratching against your bare back. One set of fingers dig into the meaty flesh of his shoulder, nails pressing crescent shapes like an iron-hot branding.

Above you, Joel studies how your mouth has fallen open, thoughts completely left your mind with how cockdrunk you are. He gingerly grips your chin, holding it to face him and commanding your eyes to his as he pants heavily.

“What d’you wanna make me, baby?” It’s only met with the sounds of his cock dragging in and out of you, the slap of skin as you gasp under him. “C’mon, Mari baby, use your words.”

“A daddy,” you breathe out, your opposite hand combing into his messy curls and gripping tight.

“Say it again. Dime.” Not thinking it was possible, Joel pushes you further, hitting into you harder with each thrust nudging his tip toward your cervix. You might only leave this afternoon with soreness, but you continued to hold out hope for a baby to be the well-worth prize for how you’re going to feel tomorrow.

“A daddy!”

“Dime. Dime. Dime,” he commands and you listen, writhing under him as he hacks away at your shared resolve, throwing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Daddy — oh, fuck, a daddy. Wanna make you a daddy!” You’re yelling at this point, sobs of pleasure wracking your body and you thank god for a split second that the two of you are home alone in the middle of the work day. Surely the whole block might be hearing all of your wanton sounds.

“God, I could get used to you calling me that, Mari baby,” Joel groans and throws his head back, bearing his teeth as he punches his hips into your clenching pussy, the telltale sign that you’re close.

“C’mon, mi amor, give it to me. Come for me and I’ll let your fucking pussy milk me for every last drop. That’s what you want, right? Gotta fill you up and make a baby for my Mari baby.” He’s rambling as you reach your peak, toes curling and coming even harder than your first one this afternoon.

A near scream pulls itself from as deep as your gut, the sound as if you were in more pain than the absolute pleasure you feel. Your grip on his hair tightens, drawing him down for a messy kiss as you mumble against his lips.

“Please gimme a baby, J. Need it all inside of me, please. Come for me, mi esposo.”

The name sends goosebumps across his shoulders and trickles down his spine before he’s barking your name once and spilling into you, painting your walls with each rope. He takes a moment to breathe before he gently presses his hips in a few short thrusts, fucking his spend as far into you as possible.

Joel collapses against your torso, no other efforts exerted to move away. Delicate, nimble touches brush the hair from his sweaty forehead, rubbing his shoulders as he hums contently.

“Fuck, baby, might just have to stay inside. Keep you plugged up so I can stay here all day with you.” Quiet, breathless laughter leaves your lips as you shake your head, tracing along his jaw before he turns his head to press his lips into your tummy.

“Can’t wait for you to be a momma. Gonna be the best one ever, y’already are. Love you so much.”

The two of you lay like that for what feels like hours, only to be reminded of Joel’s limited schedule when his cell starts ringing from downstairs. Getting up with a groan, he slips out of you and lifts your hips, stuffing a pillow or two underneath them to keep your lower half elevated. You roll your eyes at the superstitious gesture, gasping when his fingers push into you once more to put his leaking come back into where it belongs.

“Gotta make sure it takes, pretty girl. Wanna see you get all round with my baby in you. Everybody’ll know how good I am to you, huh? Pumping you full of me so much we made a new fucking life…better stay like this until I get home again, Mari baby. Wanna make sure those lil swimmers get all the help they can get.”

“Mm…” you hum, hands grabbing for him to lean over you again. Sneaking a kiss, you pull away to whisper to him with a grin on your lips, “Better get back to work…daddy.”

He snorts out a laugh, beaming a bright smile as mischief glimmers in his eyes, “Mal. Mala chica. (Bad. Bad girl.)”

Three days late. You’ve been tracking your cycle like a mad woman, ticking off days in the notebook next to your bed, and now you’re officially three days late. Joel and you had agreed to wait a few days after you expected your period, hopeful that the extra time meant a more accurate, and desired, result.

The kitchen timer sitting on Joel’s side of the bed ticks away while you side on the edge of the bed. Tapping your fingers against your thighs, bare skin against your fingertips from the high hem of your denim shorts. Joel paces the room, eyes focused a thousand yards ahead. Anxiety and anticipation had been plaguing both of you all day, work slugging by minute by minute, second by second. Joel had left the jobsite as soon as was acceptable, leaving Tommy to wrap up, and swung by the pharmacy to pick up a new box of tests. Your task for the day was to chug water, or any liquid, all afternoon — by the time Joel was one foot through the door, you were ready to burst. Snatching the bag of tests out of his hand, you ran to the bathroom to pee in a plastic disposable cup and stick at least three tests in.

Now, you two are waiting for more seconds and minutes to tick by, added to the tally of the entire day. As you’re about to stand and stop Joel from burning treads in the area rug from walking his tight circles, a trill of a bell vibrating demands your attention. Turning off the noise in a flash, you stand and cross the room to where your husband is now frozen in place. A gentle touch to his cheek, his eyelids flutter close and he takes a long exhale before opening them again.

“Ready?” you ask, uncertainty pitching your voice up.

A minute nod, one shake of his chin, Joel’s hand finds the small of your back as he responds, “Ready, mi amor.”

His hand guides you into the bathroom, and a handful of steps from the three tests laid out on the counter, you turn around, panic twisting your expression. Joel stumbles to stop his collision with you, large palms grabbing onto your biceps to catch himself.

“M’scared, J…” Your voice is meek, cracking with emotion. This is the last shot you gave yourselves, whatever is laid on the counter either means unbridled joy or a long road of poking and prodding in countless doctors’ offices.

The warmth of his hands rubbing your arms and the press of his lips to your forehead coax you to relax, to take deep breaths, “I know, Mari baby, I would be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t scared too. But no matter what is on those tests, we’re in it together, right sweet girl?”

His index finger hooks under your chin to draw your attention up to his face, a small smile filled with love and reassurance stretching his lips.

“Always in it together, J.” You take another deep breath, turning around and nodding shortly, “Okay, now m’ready.”

“That’s my girl,” he mumbles before he’s following right behind you again, the two of you pressing yourselves to each other against the counter. Joel has an iron grip on your hips, nerves manifesting in the squeezes of his hands. Shaking fingers turn over each test before picking them all up to your lines of vision.

Two lines. Two bold lines screaming at both of you, across all three tests.

Positive.

Positive. You’re pregnant. You and Joel are having a baby.

“Holy shit…” Joel exhales behind you, smile creeping into his voice. Somehow, his grip gets even tighter as he turns you around, “Holy shit! You’re pregnant, Mari. We’re havin’ a baby! You’re gonna be a momma!”

Giddiness overcomes both of you, happy and disbelieving laughter while you hold each other in a tight embrace. Joel litters kisses around your face, catching your lips last — all teeth and tight lipped from your matching grins.

“You’re gonna be a dad again, how’s that feel?”

“Like I won the damn lottery, mi amor.”

Another kiss, supple and heavy. Joel pulls away first and shakes his head, pressing his forehead to yours, “I love you so fucking much, Mari.”

“I love you too, J.”

“You ready to go, Sare?” you ask, standing next to her seat at the kitchen table where she’s working away at her homework, reaching a hand out to play with her curls. She smiles and nods, writing down one last answer to a question on her worksheet before she lays her pencil down and stands up, rushing over toward the door.

“Just gotta get my shoes on!” she calls out, and you smile, shaking your head.

“Take your time, sweet pea! God knows it’s gonna take me longer to walk over to the door.” Your joke falls on deaf ears of your husband, who stands at the kitchen island and rolls his eyes before he’s crossing the room over to you. Within arm’s length, his hands cup the bottom of your large belly, leaning in for a sweet peck.

“Nobody cares if you move slow. Better to be careful than—”

“Careless, yes, I know. I think those might be our baby’s first words since they hear them so much from their dad,” you tease and he shrugs, kissing you again while his touch wanders across the flannel of his that you’re sporting, too tired to buy more maternity clothes that you’ll grow out of and opting for his closet every morning.

“Jus’ looking out for my girls. All three of ‘em.” He beams proudly, brown eyes shining brightly before he turns you in his arms, accompanying you to the front door where your near-teenager is waiting. Ever the sweetheart she is, she’s got your purse slung on her shoulder, car keys in hand to pass off to you. You thank her quietly, turning back to Joel as he looks between the two of you.

“Alright, have fun with your girls’ day. And call if you need anything — either of you. I’ll be waitin’ here for ya.” Joel smooths down Sarah’s hair before kissing the crown of her head; she squirms away, the teenage attitude rearing its head in some early moments, especially with her dad. There’s less patience for him, which you completely understand as a teenage girl once yourself. He huffs out a sigh as she slips out the door, heading down the front path toward your car.

“Hey, s’nothing. Teenage girl things. She loves you, and you’re the best dad.” A hand on his cheek coaxes him down to your lips, a supple kiss exchanged before he pulls away and bends to kiss the top of your belly.

“Bye, my little June Bug.” He stands upright again and steals another kiss, mumbling, “And bye, mi Mariposa. Drive safe, let me know if you need anything while you’re out. I love you.”

“We love you too. And m’speaking for the moody one, too.” Joel chuckles and rubs your bump once more before sending you on your way, watching and waving from the door as y’all drive away.

The plan for today had come about when you started to notice Sarah growing quieter, retreating to her room more often after family dinners and denying the chance at movie night some days. Joel had noticed too, but was a bit nervous to broach it with her, not wanting to make her feel bad about being more independent.

Your relationship with her though was much different to Joel’s. There was the foundation of your caretaking role with her, much more of a friend with authority when it was only you two before you were anything close to a parental figure. More open and, well, you could relate more to what she was going through. She confided in you first about girls at school being catty, about her growing crushes on boys in her grade. And this year, only a month after your due date, she will officially become a teenager. It was a strange time in any girl’s life, full of growing pains.

And on top of all of that, add on a new baby arriving. Attentions drawn elsewhere, priorities shifted to preparing for the baby. Sarah never fell to the backburner in your minds, but you didn’t know how she was feeling. Guessing by her quiet actions, you could tell she was feeling left out but didn’t want to stir up trouble.

Always the sweet girl. And you knew how that was.

So, you’d asked her for a girls’ day, excluding her dad from the fun and giving both of you some time with each other to feel like it was years before. It was all about Sarah today, no mentions of baby — no buying diapers or supplies or clothes. A promise made to yourself to make Sarah feel special, because that is exactly what she was. The baby on the way may be your first biological child, but nothing can compare to the unique bond that you have with your Sare Bear.

The day was spent waddling throughout the mall, helping her pick out new outfits and shoes for the end of the school year. Collecting a haul, you two stopped off for lunch and a trip to the nail salon before you finally made your way back home in the evening. Sarah was smiling brightly in the passenger seat, joking around with you and eagerly telling you all about the latest school drama. Your heart was about to burst with how much she’d come out of her shell again all day, even wanting to show off her new things to her dad when you both got back.

In the living room, Joel greets you two from the couch, eyes widening and a low whistle leaving his lips when he sees the damage done, “Quite some shoppin’ there, Bug. Y’all buy out the whole store?”

You wave him off and encourage Sarah to show off her haul, walking over to settle onto the sofa next to Joel. The younger Miller excitedly starts pulling out pieces and showcasing them, excitedly telling her dad exactly where she plans to wear them. His hand rests on your leg, attention completely focused on his daughter in front of him, squeezing you gently when she gets particularly worked up over something. You can tell he feels what you were in the car, heart bursting that she seems like herself again after a day spent with you.

“That’s nice, Sare Bear. I like the color,” Joel comments on the last shirt Sarah holds up, her smile still beaming as she tosses it back into the bag.

“Thanks, Mom actually picked it out! I thought it would be fun to have for camp this year, since I’m gonna start the counselor training program…” Her voice trails off as Joel listens intently. You, on the other hand, take deep breaths to hold it together, the simple moniker rolling off of Sarah’s tongue so naturally. Your heartbeat thumps in your chest, and baby Miller kicks her feet against your tummy — equally as excited.

You manage to keep it calm while Sarah recaps the rest of the day before she gathers up her shopping bags to take to her room. As she’s leaving the room, she’s quick to run over and give you a hug, leaning down to meet you where you sit on the couch. Your belly sticks out between the two of you, but regardless you pull her into a tight squeeze as she says thank you. Her curls bounce as she scampers off upstairs, the quiet sounds of her feet in the hallway queuing your watery eyes to overflow and for your nose to sniffle. Joel is grinning brightly next to you, pulling you into his lap and holding you against him as he wipes the few happy tears away.

“She called me Mom…” you whisper to your husband, afraid to admit it any louder as if it would disappear.

Joel presses his forehead against yours, a sweet kiss against your lips before he whispers back, “You have no idea how happy it makes me to know she feels that way about you.”

“I just…I feel so lucky. And maybe it’s hormones, but oh my god, I can’t stop blubbering. I’m a mom.”

“You’re the best mom. Have been to Sarah since she met you, and you’re going to be the best mom to our little one on the way.”

June 21st, 2009.

The first day of summer.

It’s the first day of summer and you’re stuck inside. Not at home, no, you’re currently propped up in a hospital bed with your legs in stir-ups, breathing in between contractions. Exhaustion weighs on your body, a full hour passing of you pushing in time with the pain in your abdomen that radiates all over. Sweat sticks your hair to your forehead and Joel sitting next to you brushes it out of the way. His other hand is limp in yours, ready to be squeezed with a vice grip whenever you need to push. Joel leans over you in level with your head, lathering on encouragements.

“You got this, Mari.”

“So strong, baby. You can do it.”

“Thank you, mi amor, thank you thank you thank you.”

The last one comes after a string of complaints against him doing this to you — despite you both knowing you begged for it nine months prior — and for having such a big head in his own baby photos that he had to have passed down to the baby.

Another wave kicks in, your doctor and nurses coaching you to give another final push. Putting every last bit of your energy behind the flex of your muscles, groaning out with pain and frustration before a piercing cry fills the room. Heavy, tiny sobs ring in your ears.

“You did it, baby, m’so proud of you. Our little girl,” Joel says in awe, glancing between you and where the doctor holds your little baby girl, summoning Dad over to cut the cord.

She’s taken away to be cleaned up and Joel returns to your side, ready to help you attentively through the afterbirth. You wave him off, begging him to go keep an eye on your little girl. Once she’s clean enough, the nurses lay her on your bare chest, the sight of her tiny fingers and toes bringing about your own cries. Your hands hold her there, delicate touches brushing against her soft skin and her damp but full head of dark brown hair.

The rest of the process is painful but smoother, shorter. Before you know it, all tests are done and Joel is next to the bed again, wiping a damp cloth across your forehead.

A rush of adrenaline, pure unfiltered need and excitement to meet your daughter keeps you awake, sitting up carefully as you accept her into your arms from your husband who’s wearing the biggest smile. He sits on the edge of the bed, hand on your leg as you study the features on her small face.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she, Mari? Looks like her momma.”

You beam, shaking your head as you place a fingertip against her nose, “See, I think she looks like her daddy. Already got the grumpy brow.”

Both of you laugh, your unbridled attention on the tiny bundle in your arms as you gush over her for minutes longer. Joel rubs your leg, drawing your eyes up to him as he asks, “So you think we picked a good name?”

“I think we picked a perfect name. Our ‘S’ girls,” you grin at him before looking down at your little girl, “Skye Isla Miller. I think it suits her perfectly.”

A bit more time is spent between only the two of you and Skye before you’re itching to see your eldest, and for her to meet her little sister. Joel retreats to where Sarah’s in the waiting area with Tommy and Maria, who’s now three months pregnant herself, waving her to come back with him. She nervously enters the room, quiet as a mouse until you reassure her with a smile and welcome her to sit in the bed next to you.

Joel makes the introductions, voice thick with emotion as he stands over his three girls, watching as his first little one meets his second, “Sarah Elena, this is your baby sister, Skye Isla.”

Sarah quietly asks permission to hold her; you lay Skye in her arms carefully, teaching her how to support her head and where to avoid her soft spot. Sarah picks up on it like a natural, adjusting her little sister when she fusses a bit, finally settling into a new set of familiar hands.

“Dad said you did a really good job, Mom. With everything today. S’pretty cool that you brought a whole person into the world…” Sarah glances over at you with a shy smile before addressing both you and Joel, “M’really happy she’s here.”

“You’re gonna be a great big sister, Bug,” Joel beams with pride as he squeezes her shoulder, leaning over to press a kiss to the crown of your head. He hums as he looks over you three, “Got my Mariposa, my Bug, and my little June Bug. Mi maripositas. Don’t think anything could beat seeing my three girls altogether finally.”

You find yourself observing your family from afar, listening with muffled ears as Joel and Sarah chat about who Skye got what features from. Cheeks aching from smiling, you can’t help but think that this summer was off to the most wonderful start, and that every summer after was only going to get better.

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fletchingbrilliant · 3 months ago

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TEXT TRANSCRIPTION (CW: Katie Killkoy-typical homophobia, lite)

Hello, bitches! Katie Killjoy here with a royal doozy of a story!

The First Annual Hell Hungry Games (unofficial slogan: “We Aren’t Actually Doing This Every Year, Are We?”) are now underway! Somewhat hastily put together by Hell’s favorite distaster Princess Charlotte Morningstar as a dipshit attempt at a large scale hotel “trust exercise” based on a series of human novels her -gag- female companion mentioned to her once, the Hungry Games (unofficial slogan: “No, Babe, It’s Hunger- You Know What, Never Mind!”) will test Sinners and Hellborn alike - whether they’re affiliated with this stupid hotel or not! - with a series of survivalist challenges as they team up at random and, hopefully, don’t sabotage each other in the process! Why did she believe this was a good idea? How did she get the Vees, a Goetian Prince and his daughter, and two Deadly Sins to agree to participate? Why the fuck are there angels here? Who will end up fucking and how disgusting will it be? And who will emerge as the first ever champion of this stupid, stupid contest? Tune in to find out!

(END TEXT TRANSCRIPTION)

So, throughout August, I will be releasing images and text detailing the events of a very silly Hunger Games-esque event involving 24 unfortunate souls from the Hellaverse.

SOME THINGS TO KEEP IN MIND

We are using the BrantSteele Hunger Games Simulator to generate the events that will take place.

This information is going to inform the events, but we will be taking huge liberties in order to make it more interesting, make it flow better, etc.

The event will play out the way it plays out, through a combination of random chance and the creative choices of the writers/artists (myself and @zaebeecee)

We will NOT be taking suggestions. The cards are gonna fall how they fall.

Some of the "deaths" will seem utterly nonsensical! WE DO NOT CARE. We will make it work. That is part of the fun. Try not to get hung up on whether or not 'that would happen'

Just enjoy things, this is not to be taken seriously

That said, given the nature of the source material, there will be some dark concepts represented. We will do our best to balance respect and comedy, but will also provide content warnings for anything that might be triggering/uncomfortable/excessively unpleasant to folks. We'll start introducing the teams next! Stay tuned!!!

#my art #helluva hungry games #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanart #katie killjoy #hazbin katie killjoy #helluva boss #helluva boss fanart #hellaverse #hellaverse fanart

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skeletboi · 7 days ago

Text

Part 11 of the Intridimensional AU!

New to this? Start here!

Previous /// Next

_________________________________________

Fiddleford opened the door to see Ford half-dragging Stan towards the house.

“Lemme help ya, Ford, those stairs are gonna be a doozy.” He said, making his way towards them.

“We got it. I feel like I would crush you if I fell over.” Stan responded before Ford could say anything.

“Hey now, I'm a lot stronger than I look.” Fiddleford said with a bright smile.

“It's true.” Ford added. “He's like an ant, I've seen him carry things ten times his size without even breaking a sweat.”

“Smart, strong, and a southern accent? Where did you find him? College? Maybe I should go to college.” Stan said, half to himself.

Ford let up his grip on Stan, nearly knocking him over.

“Right, right! No hitting on the assistant.” Stan mumbled as he attempted to catch his balance.

Fiddleford chuckled as helped them up the stairs.

“Ya never told me he was a charmer, Ford.” He said as they made it to the door.

“That's because he isn't.” Ford deadpanned.

Stan opened his mouth to respond, but forgot what he was going to say as they entered the house.

“Damn. This is exactly what I should have expected.” He said as the other two helped him sit on a nearby chair.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Ford said, at the same time Fiddleford said “That's ‘zactly what I said when I came here!”

Ford and Fiddleford looked at eachother and Stan laughed.

“Anyways, lemme get a look at yer injuries. Ford told me he tried ta patch ya up, but I've seen his work, and I ain't impressed.” Fiddleford said, grabbing a nearby first aid kit and putting on a pair of rubber gloves.

“Hey!” Ford said, defensively.

“Ya know what I mean, Stanford. Go fetch me some of that magic goop yer always usin’.”

Ford frowned, but left to go find said ‘magic goop’.

“Damn, he never would of listened to me if I said that. He really does like you.” Stan mumbled.

Fiddleford ignored that, but Stan didn't miss the way his cheeks reddened.

“I'd really rather you'd go to a hospital, friend. This really ain't lookin’ good.” He said instead.

“Yeah, yeah. Hospital-schmospital. What are we going to tell them? We were just fucking around and I lost my leg and got a bullet in the arm?”

“Bullet in yer arm? I thought it was jus’ the leg.” Fiddleford said with a frown as he looked up at Stan.

“It was just the leg when Ford found me, but then we got shot at near the border of Arizona.” Stan explained.

“You-” Fiddleford started, then sighed. “Does catastrophe run in the family?”

“Yes.” Ford and Stan said at the same time as Ford reentered the room.

Fiddleford huffed out a laugh.

“Well, least I know what to expect, then.”

“That makes one of us.” Ford mumbled handing a small unmarked container to Fiddleford.

Fiddleford put it to the side and started to unwrap the gauze on Stan's leg.

“Take yer jacket off, I gotta check on that bullet wound, too.” He said.

Stan did as he was told and watched with mild interest as Fiddleford finished removing the gauze.

“Darnit, Stanford. All them PhDs and not a single one of ‘em in medicine.” He mumbled as he opened the unmarked container.

“I had better things to do.” Ford responded.

“Doncha always.” Fiddleford mumbled, and Stan didn't miss the fondness in his tone.

Fiddleford took some of the substance from the container and made to put it on the wound when Stan stopped him.

“Wait, wait! What the hell is that shit?” He asked, put off by the substance's eerie glow.

“That's quite interesting, actually!” Ford said, his face lighting up. “It's a healing potion I received from a forest nymph after they found me passed out in the woods a few years ago!”

Stan frowned, but nodded to Fiddleford, letting him know he could apply it. Fiddleford did so, and Stan let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“What the fuck, Ford?! That shit is amazing! Why didn’t you bring it to New Mexico?!” Stan said, looking from his leg to Ford.

“Oh, right. I wasn't sure if I should bring it on the plane, it emits a small amount of radiation that has the potential to mess with certain radio signals.” Ford explained.

Stan glared at him.

“It's perfectly safe! I've used it dozens of times!”

“That doesn't make it safe, Stanford!” Stan responded, nonplussed.

“That's what I'm always sayin’, but stubbornness also runs in the family, I reckon.” Fiddleford said.

“Fiddleford refuses to use it, but I find it quite helpful.” Ford said.

“Whatever.” Stan said with a sigh. “It's probably just as bad as any other substance I've used, so it doesn't really matter. At least it works.”

“That's the spirit! Now lemme get a look at yer arm.” Fiddleford said, moving to Stan's side to start unwrapping the gauze there.

“That one isn't too bad, probably doesn't need radioactive magic goop.” Stan said.

“Ain't too bad?! I reckon the bullet is still in yer arm, Stanley!” Fiddleford said, moving Stan's arm this way and that as he looked for an exit wound.

“Probably, but I doubt those assholes are smart enough to poison their bullets, so it's fine. I’ve had a bullet in my thigh for a few years now and I barely notice it anymore.” Stan said.

“Jesus fuck, Stanley.” Ford mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Language, Stanford.” Fiddleford responded.

“Language?! Stan hasn't said a single sentence without a swear word since we arrived!” Ford said, sounding a bit like a petulant child.

“He's missin’ a leg, Stanford. That’s a purdy good excuse.” Fiddleford replied.

Ford frowned, but didn't bother arguing.

“Lemme go grab the smaller magnet gun prototype, I betcha I can remove it that way.” Fiddleford said, standing up and removing his rubber gloves.

“That sounds fucking awful.” Stan replied.

“It's either the magnet gun or tweezer and a scalpel. Your choice.” Ford said.

“Right, nerd magic it is.” Stan sighed.

Fiddleford huffed out a laugh and left to grab the magnet gun.

“So he's cute.” Stan said when Fiddleford's footsteps faded.

“Fuck you.” Ford said, burying his face in his hands as Stan laughed.

“Ya know, married or not, I'm pretty damn sure he has a crush on you, too.” Stan said as his laughter died down.

“That doesn't matter, Stanley. I told you he would be moving back to Palo Alto soon enough.” Ford said, dropping his hands from his face with a sigh.

“All grown up and becoming a homewrecker, who coulda guessed.” Stan mused.

“I swear to god, Stanley…” Ford started, but stopped when he heard Fiddleford's footsteps down the hall.

Stan smiled innocently as Fiddleford rounded the corner.

“I was gone for one whole minute and y'all already fightin’?” Fiddleford asked.

“Not fighting, really, just disagreeing.” Ford said, sounding tired.

“Well, close ‘nough. Now looky here, I got the magnet gun, but I also brought my blueprints for a robit leg. I'll hafta take some measurements, but I think I was purdy darn close already.” Fiddleford said, setting the magnet gun down on a nearby shelf and handing the blueprints over to Stan.

Stan unfolded the paper and grinned.

“Peg leg! Hell yeah! How did you know?!” He asked, squinting at the design.

“Yer brother told me you'd prefer that over my usual designs.” Fiddleford said, putting on a new pair of gloves.

Stan glanced over at Ford, who was staring at the far wall and pretending not to listen. He shook his head and smiled as a warmth bloomed in his chest, but turned his attention back to Fiddleford when he heard a low hum.

“This is gonna hurt, but it'll only take ‘bout a second.” Fiddleford said, gently taking Stan's arm and holding up the magnet gun.

Stan nodded, setting down the blueprints and clenching his fist. He motioned for Fiddleford to continue.

Fiddleford looked a bit like he was about to pass out, but his hands were steady as he lined the magnet gun up with the bullet wound.

There was a click, a whirring sound, and a shot of white-hot pain, then it was over.

“That wasn't so bad.” Stan said, but the pain in his voice said otherwise.

“Sorry, Stanley. I jus’ gotta clean it up a bit then we can use more that magic goop.” Fiddleford said.

He sounded so genuinely apologetic that Stan was sure he could hear a layer of ice crack around his heart.

“No worries, Fidds! You can always kiss it to make it better!” He replied with a laugh.

“Stanley!” Ford said, his voice cracking.

Fiddleford just laughed it off and started the process of cleaning around the wound.

Stan used his free hand to pick up the blueprints again, looking over them carefully as Fiddleford worked. He glanced up at Ford when he felt eyes on him and motioned for Ford to join him when he saw the curious look on his face. Ford obliged and stepped behind Stan to look over his shoulder at the blueprints.

“Impressive as always, Fiddleford.” Ford said, and Stan didn't miss the way Fiddleford's hands stilled for a moment at the compliment.

“Thank ya, Ford. I'll prolly have a prototype by tomorra that we can try out.” Fiddleford replied with a nervous smile.

It took all of Stan’s willpower not to roll his eyes.

Running from gangsters might actually be less painful than dealing with the unresolved tension between these nerds. He thought idly, but he couldn't deny that he felt more at home here than he had in years.

___________________________________________

Oh, these boys. I love them.

That's all I got.

Previous /// Next

Also on ao3! Here!

#skeletboitag #intridimensional au #gravity falls #stanford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #gravityfalls #fiddauthor #ford pines #stanley pines #gravity falls au #bill cipher #stan pines #mystery trio #but a spinoff #its a spinoff of a spinoff

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girlwithherheadinthestars · 8 months ago

Text

but like. when a group of burnt out gifted kids is studying for an exam together late at night in their boarding school...

someone goes to get food from the vending machine

"pass me the gummy bears this question is a doozy."

at one point they decide they should get proper food and the two people who are usually the most sarcastic and distant make everyone sandwiches

candles not normal lights "FOR THE AESTHETIC GUYS IF I'M GOING TO SUFFER I'M GOING TO DO IT PRETTILY."

"who the hell left socks on the floor."

^"what. i think better barefoot."

"if one more person says the word electromagnetic i'm unaliving everyone in this room and then myself."

one of them falls asleep and their rival covers them in a blanket then turns to the others and says, "you tell them it was me and i'm making your life a nightmare."

forgetting basic addition because it's literally 2am

"i'm giving up and leaving this test to god."

^"babe i gave up two hours ago what are you still even doing."

"this feels like a cult."

^"let's do some voodoo to pass yeah?"

^"no i meant just because of the candles."

^"EVERYONE STOP HATING ON MY CANDLES I WON'T TAKE CANDLE SLANDER"

^"well if you want real dark academia i'll kill one of you."

^"i can't tell if he's joking."

^"if you're gonna kill someone can it be them."

^(sleeping character wakes up) "i heard something about killing (rival)? and who put a blanket on me?"

the character who's in every extracurricular on her phone scheduling meetings and planning -- enlisted the super shy character as her secretary and is freaking out because she has seven meetings and she has to inaugurate a children's hospital and meet the president within the next 12 hours

a teacher finds them in the lounge and sees the candles and goes "oh i'm sorry i'm interrupting this cult meeting -- "

the kids who went outside to smoke sneaking back in and seeing them and laughing "NERDS"

^shy kid was in the bathroom so comes up behind them and screams and they run away

^everyone staring at shy kid because they didn't know they could make a sound that loud.

part two - they're brought in for an early morning class

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anonymousdisco · 3 months ago

Text

How’d I get Isikiad into Yandere Obey Me Chapter Six: Hello Big Brother Part Two

(Y/N) POV:

“It’s time. He’s about fifteen minutes away.” Glitch informed me as she woke me from my nap.

”Thanks for the heads up.” I got down from the tree quickly and checked my eyes by using a compact mirror. Feeling that they weren’t red and puffy enough I rubbed them again and dabbed my cheeks slightly using water from a water bottle so it would be damp to the touch. Then I went back to the HOL as quickly as I could. Thankfully I hadn’t gone too far.

”This is gonna be one heck of a doozy to pull off, glitch.” I muttered before getting into character letting myself reveal my limp from my leg I sprained earlier. I also let my eyes tear up as I saw Mammons car pull into the driveway. I enter through the back door not letting him see me yet and I ‘coincidently’ ran into him just as he entered through the side door.

Mammons POV:

I entered quietly hoping not to get caught after being at the casino so long. Stupid casino keeping me on a win streak till last moment. I muttered angrily to myself over the money I lost as I started walking back to my room. On my way there I bumped into someone.

”Oi knock it off! Watch where you’re going and don’t bump into me-“ I trailed off as I saw who it was. “It’s late what are you doing up?” I looked her up and down as I said this noticing her looking a bit… strange. Like she’d been crying her eyes out. And why was she wearing outdoors clothes inside?

”I’m sorry…” She whispered timidly. “I didn’t mean to run into you. It was an accident. It’s hard to get out the way in time since-“ She stopped abruptly not speaking any further. She twiddled her hands nervously and despite not knowing her well I couldn’t help but be concerned a bit.

”Since what?” I asked her not letting her leave it alone.

”My ankle.” She looked at the ground with tears in her eyes. “It hurts so much.”

I felt concerned immediately. Sure I always ignored her but I can’t just leave my little sibling injured! Lucifer would kill me! “Come over here.” I dragged her to my room and grabbed a first aid kit.

Sitting her down on my couch I started unpacking things from the first aid kit. “Which ankle?” She pointed at the ankle that was hurt and I took off her shoes and socks before rolling up her pants enough to see the injury and I winced upon inspecting it.

”What in the name of Diavolo happened to you?” I inspected it carefully pressing on it slightly to feel for any broken bones.

“I fell in school.” I scoffed at her answer.

”Ain’t no way this is from a fall. I fall all the time and I don’t end up swollen this bad. I think it’s sprained. Luckily we have some healing potions that are still good in the first aid kit. We’ll have to wrap it in gauze after putting a balm on it too.”

I made her drink the potion and I treated her ankle. “So what really happened?”

”Like I said I fell. The halls were crowded at RAD and I think someone shoved me by accident. I ended up feeling something hurting but I ignored it so I could go to class.” Her shoulders drooped timidly. “I know it’s hard to believe but I’m not lying.” Tears started to flow again from her eyes and internally I panicked. I hadn’t soothed any of my little sibling since shortly after… Lilith died. I hesitantly sat next to her as she started to sob till awkwardly I held her. It wasn’t long till she was crying on my shoulder probably from whatever pain and stress she had today. When was the last time I got to hold one of my little siblings like this? Even belphie was too old to be taken care of now. And Lilith was long gone for me to take care of.

As I held her I couldn’t help but wonder why I hadn’t noticed she was in pain earlier. In fact when had I ever noticed her? After Lilith died it was all so painful I couldn’t even look at her. Father had created her just before the war started and she had been given to us at the time. She wasn’t even old enough to make her own decisions yet. We had all just dragged her along our rebellion and she had fallen as a result.

Feeling uncomfortable with all these sad memories she was reminding me off I showed her out my room almost slamming the door in her face before going to lay down to sleep.

(Y/N) POV:

I went back to my room making sure to look sad till I was alone. Once I was glitch’s screen chimed and glowed green.

Message: Congrats User! You completed the mission within the timeframe. Click to open your surprise reward here:

A button popped up that I pressed. Once pressed virtual confetti appeared while a virtual gift box opened up to reveal my reward.

”That’s it?!” I asked incredulously as I held it in my hands. “This was what all my effort was for?!”

Glitch replied its screen glowing slightly red as it almost vibrated. “That is a highly valuable item I’ll have you know! It’s extremely hard to get and the fact you got it out of a random lottery on the first try is amazing!”

”But what does it even do?!” I held it up to the light puzzled.

”That quill has the ability to rewrite one detail of the story you are in so long as it doesn’t majorly damage the overall plot. There’s chances to earn more in the future but they’re very rare. I can’t believe you got one!” Glitch seemed to lighten its screen a bit as it buzzed around in excitement.

”I’ll have to keep this handy then just in case. Where should I put it…?” I looked around my room carefully.

”Why not inside your storage in the system?” Glitch sugested helpfully.

”My what now?” I looked confused.

”Did you not pay attention to the tutorial this morning? Select storage from the main menue and pass the object you want stored through my screen. It’ll then pop up on a list you can then take it out from when you want it back. Things can’t expire while on storage btw.” Glitch explained as I followed along to what it said to do.

I yawned when I was done. “Goodnight glitch.”

”Goodnight user.” Glitch’s screen dimmed its light and turned transparent as I went to lay down to sleep.

Mammon

~Affection: 7% he refuses to believe he care for you though since he’s a tusndere

“Stupid little sister getting tears all over my expensive jacket… Crying all profusely. Not that I care though since the Great Mammon is above such a thing!

~Relation- Reluctant Older Brother

~Danger Level- Green

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myseungsunglove · 1 year ago

Text

The Mystery of You | Bc

Pairing: Chan x Reader

Warnings: language, mildly suggestive

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Chan and the reader really start to get to know each other over the course of the six days that span the time from their first connection to their fated meeting in LA. The reader also gets introduced to two other members of Stray Kids and starts to form a bond with them as well. Tensions between the reader and Chan are growing as the impending meeting at KCon approaches closer.

A/N: Part 2. For The Master of Flirting - It’s important to note that I will take into account Korean Standard time, I will be writing this part where all of the events take place during Central Standard Time. Also, this one really got away from me, but I really wanted to build that bond between Chan and the reader and create some tension before they meet in LA. Part 3 is gonna be a DOOZY so prepare yourselves, babes! I hope you guys like this one. It took me a lot to get the details all ironed out but it felt necessary. Next stop, LA!

◠ ◡ ◠᭚ιαᵕ̈

Feedback Welcome

Tags: @hoeinthehouse @drhsthl @chrizzlaptop @dna-black-and-blue @lynlyndoll @hufflepuffanddurinsdaughter @staychansworld @slut4colinbridgerton @spearb-99

Sunday, August 13th

Chan called back as promised to let you know the details of your trip. He had literally taken care of everything. Your flight was due to land in LA Saturday at 12:00 pm. It was a pretty quick flight, only three and a half hours. Your hotel room had been booked and would be right down the hall from the boys. Chan told you that your room would be right next to his. He had your backstage clearance for KCon. You were going to get to stick close to the boys while they prepared and then be escorted out to a prime spot in the audience for the performance itself on Sunday night. You couldn’t believe all of this was happening. You had the time off for work which with their KCon performance falling on a Sunday, you wouldn’t need to take any time from the week before. You had taken the entire week after off, just as a safeguard.

After the details of the trip were solidified, you convinced Chan to get some rest. It was getting late for him. You figured he wouldn’t actually go right to sleep, but you didn’t want to be the reason he wasn’t rested. He could make his own choices outside of that. He knew his body and his needs.

Monday, August 14th

The morning of Monday, August 14th, things spiraled even more in this whole bizarre occurrence that you were still wrapping your head around. Chan had introduced you to both Han and Seungmin. The amount of time that you talked about Han and Seungmin to Chan when you guys really started talking on Sunday night after Chan got some rest was a little embarrassing. You had admitted to him that the three of them, him, Han, and Seungmin had been your first biases, and he asked you just about every question he could think about regarding that.

Chan thought the idea of a bias was intriguing and to hear about what it meant to you really fascinated him.You explained to him that for you, having a Stray Kids bias was never about a physical attraction, but rather a soul connection, at least on your part. You had been drawn to Han immediately through exposure to the Maniac performances popping up on your FYP. He was what got you into picking a few more Stray Kids songs. Maniac was your first love and Han’s performances of that song had just blown you away. The more you listened, Chan’s vocals in the background of the chorus had sent you into orbit. You didn’t know who these guys were at the time, but you were weak for their voices. You wouldn’t say at the time you biased Han or Chan because you honestly had no clue what a bias was then and really outside of their musical talent in that one song, you knew nothing about them. More was needed for a soul connection. That connection had only come once you actually started learning more about the group as a whole. Chan and Han were immediately your favorites and it wasn’t long before Seungmin and his heavenly vocals had snaked their way into your heart as well.

Chan had shared your first singing video shortly after this conversation of biases with both Seungmin and Han because he thought it was really something special the way you had explained what having a bias meant for you. It had resulted in the two of them messaging you separately almost immediately after he told you he showed them. Chan had shared your number with both boys unbeknownst to you.

Monday, August 14 - 9:00 AM CST

Seungmin: First of all, it must be said that you absolutely don’t suck so never say that again. Second of all, Hello, I’m Seungmin of Stray Kids, and I think your voice is incredible.

Han: As soon as we get a moment in LA, we’re gonna sit down and record some tracks. You’re so fucking talented, and if I don’t sample your voice, I may die. So now you can’t say no. Also, hi I’m Han.

These messages had both appeared moments from each other and you just sat and stared at your phone, absolutely dumbfounded. There was no way this was your life. You had started a conversation with both men, and it was like you had been friends with them for years. You had messaged with them and even talked on the phone with each of them a time or two over the next few days. The soul connection you had felt with these three once you had really gotten to know them when learning about Stray kids had proven to be more correct than you imagined once you really started talking to them and actually connecting. They say you pick your biases because you are like them in some way, and the more you talked with these three, the more you saw that you had a little bit of each of them in you.

However, the connection with Chan was deeper than with the other two. You were so much like Han and Seungmin in different ways so the conversations with them flowed easily mostly about music, but some about your interests and hobbies. But you were different enough from Chan that it’s like there was a tether connecting the two of you. A magnet drawing the two of you closer, both of you seeking the other out without even thinking twice about it. Endless topics of conversation flowing between the two of you as you got to know each other. You talked about everything from your pets to what you’d be doing with your life if you had been born in another time.

Eventually the topic of the second song you found of Stray Kids came up. This was the song that would eventually lead you to want to learn more about the group, so Chan had to know more about which one it was and why. The second song you were obsessed with was “Red Lights”. Chan really perked up at that, but when you told him you still had no idea who anyone in the group was at the time that you started listening to it, but you just really vibed with the song and that one voice in particular made your knees go weak. It’s when Chan had really got on your radar and had driven you to eventually start learning about the group. He had definitely asked more questions about wanting to know who had driven you to find out more about stray kids.

Monday, August 14 11:00 PM CST

Bang Chan: One voice in particular, yeah? Mine or Hyunjin’s?

You could almost hear the smirk in his voice even though you were messaging. He knew from previous conversations that you were absolutely in love with his voice, but there was a part of him that needed to hear you pick him over Hyunjin. You knew that wasn’t something that happened very often for him.

Y/N: *video sent*

In the video, you had set up the camera so that you were sitting on the corner of your bed, your fairy lights illuminating the background behind you in a soft, deep crimson. One knee was pulled up close to your chest, your right elbow perched on it as you looked into the camera and began singing.

I cannot breathe without you being right by side, I’ll die

So can you please come over closer

Hold me tight, right now

You had run your hands through your hair, looking a little desperate as you sang the first line. You knew exactly what you were doing and you felt daring and empowered.

Don’t show that to Han and Seungmin. That one is just for you.

Bang Chan: shit.

Then there was radio silence for several minutes. It was long enough to make you really nervous, allowing your bravado to slip. As you were about to start sending a string of apologies about crossing a line you both weren’t ready for, you notice Chan typing in the chat again.

Bang Chan: You are seriously one of the most talented women I’ve ever heard in my life. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. Damn. And fucking sexy as hell.

You stared at the screen. Bang fucking Chan had just called you sexy.

Bang Chan: Shit. I gotta go, darling. Busy day preparing to leave for Japan. I’ll call you tonight, yeah? Say, 11 pm KST? So 9:00 am Tuesday for you? I should be settled in Fukuoka by then.

Y/N: Just gonna abandon me after saying that?

Bang Chan: God. I know. Trust me, I’ll be lucky if I can focus all day. Plenty to dream about on the plane.

Y/N: Good. Cause now I have to try to go to sleep with the thought that Christopher fucking Bang told me I was quote “fucking sexy as hell.” Also, I can’t believe Bang Chan just said he’s gonna dream about me on the plane. What is this life?

Bang Chan: Ope. Using the full government name. *giggles* of course I’m going to dream of you. Have you seen you? Damn. But, I gotta go. Byeom, darling.

Before you fell asleep you had received a message from Seungmin.

Seungmin: I don’t know what you sent Channie Hyung, but he has now watched it an embarrassing amount of times, quickly puts it away when anyone tries to look over his shoulder, and is constantly beaming. You’ve got this old man whipped and he hasn’t even laid eyes on you in person yet. We’re in so much trouble when that happens.

Seungmin: Also, Han and I have been working on what we want to sit down and record with you while we’re in LA. I’m so excited to share this with you!

Y/N: And you’ll never know what I sent Chan. ;p Now keep those little puppy eyes to yourself, eh? ANYWAY, I’m so excited to get to sit down with you and Han and record. Like, I still can’t believe this is my life.

Seungmin: First, eww. Second, leave my puppy eyes out of this. Third, it is your life, you deserve it from what I can tell so accept it and embrace, woman.

Tuesday, August 15, 2023 6:00 AM CST

Han: I’m pretty sure I heard Channie Hyung mumbling your name in sleep on the plane. What kind of spell have you put on our leader? Also, I hope Seungmin told you about our plans because we are both so stoked. We’re having a hard time focusing on the stage we’re about to show in Japan. We’ll get in the headspace and I hope you love our stages. I know STAYS will end up sharing that shit far and wide, so you’ll have to tell me what you think!

Y/N: I swear, you and Seungmin are both menace’s to society. Haven’t you ever heard of privacy? Hahaha And yes, Seungmin shared about your plans. I’m beyond excited. I hope your guys concert prep and concerts are a raging success, Hannie. You’re an absolute rockstar, no matter what so I have faith you’ll kill whatever you're putting on stage.

Han: What do you know? Just know that I’m eyeing you suspiciously. Did Chan tell you something? Seungmin and I are a dream team. You’re lucky to be the target of our attention and torture. It means we love you.

Y/N: I don’t know a damn thing. Just look forward to getting to see whatever it is you’re hinting at. Also, aww what a twisted way to show you love someone. How cute.

Han: You’re a mess, you know that? Take the love. Embrace it. Roll around in it. It’s not going away. Speaking of going away, I got shit to do even though it’s already like 8 pm. I’ll yell at you later, bro.

Y/N: Okay bro. Don’t forget to eat and drink and maybe sleep some in there too.

Han: Okay, now you sound like Chan. BYE!

Tuesday, August 15, 2023 9:00 AM CST

“Heya!” you chirped as you answered the phone. You were never this peppy in the morning, but since it was Bang Chan you had been up and around for hours anticipating another conversation on the phone with him.

“Hey, darlin,” he said. He sounded as though he had an exhausting day. “Are you one of those crazy morning people?” He questioned seriously.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh hell no. I’ve just been up for hours because I had too much on my mind. And Han was texting me early this morning. I sleep like a degenerate, so we have that in common,” you teased.

“Hey,” he protested.

“Come on, you know I’m right.I don’t know you that well yet, but I definitely know that.”

“It’s not fair because I still feel like I know so little about you,” he whined. You heard him plop back on his bed or onto a couch, you weren’t sure which.

“To be fair, my every move isn’t all over YouTube for the whole world to see,” you countered. “I can’t imagine what that must be like.”

He sighed. “Honestly I kind of forget that all exists sometimes. I just try to focus on what’s in front of me. If I let that stuff get to be too bad, I lose track of my goals. I’ve been there before and I had to learn that the hard way,” he admitted.

“Hmmm,” you responded, encouraging him to continue if he wanted. “Yeah, I can only imagine.”

“We’ll get to that depressing story another day, I want to talk about you,” he continued. “I haven’t stopped thinking about that video for a second today, by the way,” he confessed.

“Yeah?” you asked. “I have it on pretty good authority that you maybe watched that video a couple dozen times,” you laughed.

“Hell yeah,” he chuckled. “Wait, fucking Seungmin. I may have watched it several times back again and messed with putting your vocals into the track. Maybe,” he chuckled shyly.

“Wow,” you whispered. “I don’t know what to say.” And you didn’t. You were at a loss for words with how obsessed with your voice he and the other two seemed to be.

“You don’t have to say anything. Just don’t refute the compliment,” he said matter of factly.

“Yes sir,” you smirked. You didn’t know how he would react to that, but you took the chance anyway.

He cleared his throat and you heard him inhale deeply. “God, don’t start something we can’t finish, y/n,” he practically begged.

“And what would that be, Christopher?” you asked innocently.

He huffed again. “Baby girl, you talk like that and I’m gonna say things that I’d much rather say in person for the first time,” he admitted.

You swallowed hard, a blush creeping up your neck.

“Oh,” you let out. That answer had caught you by surprise. “I’ll behave,” you promised. “Scout’s honor.”

He chuckled at that. “You’re really gonna be the death of me. Tell me about your family and where you grew up,” he asked. “Distract me, but also, I want to know.”

You proceeded to talk about where you grew up, what life was like growing up in the states, and learned that a lot of your raising wasn’t all that different from Chan’s despite being raised on the other side of the world. You looked at the clock and realized it was nearing noon.

“Whoa, Chan it’s late for you,” you said after you had stopped laughing about a story he had told you about him and his siblings when they were younger.

“Eh, I’ve done much worse,” he said dismissively. “Hell this is early,” he added.

“You have a concert tomorrow,” you said. “Don’t work too hard. I know you know your boundaries.”

“Thanks darlin’.”

“Of course, Channie.”

“I like that coming from you,” he confessed, a shy chuckle emitting from him. Sometimes you couldn’t believe that this shy guy was the same one who was flirting with you earlier and talking about not finishing what you started.

“I should probably go, anywway. Do something other than talk for hours to this cute guy I just met.”

“Oh, you should tell me about him next time,” Chan laughed. “Sounds interesting.

“Shut up,” you laughed. “Talk later, yeah?”

“God, you’re already starting to sound like me,” Chan groaned.

“To be fair, I’ve always sounded like this. I’m a midwesterner,” you joked.

“Whatever that means,” Chan teased like you hadn’t spent the better part of thirty minutes explaining to him what it was like living in the midwestern United States.

“Eh, watch it.”

“Go be productive, y/n,” he quipped.

“Ugh fine!” you relented. “Talk later.”

“G’day, darling.”

“G’night, Channie.”

The next two days proved to be busy for the both of you, neither of you really getting the opportunity to talk on the phone long. You had text back and forth often, sometimes sending voice messages and videos, but neither of you had long enough to have an actual conversation.

In the time that you had not had to talk with Chan, Han had been blowing up your phone with lyrics that he had written for you that he wanted you to record. He has even sent you a guide track. It was a beautiful piece that he and Seungmin had been working on together since Sunday in between their busy schedules.

Wednesday, August 16 3:00 AM CST

Bang Chan: Okay, I know I’m about to go onstage for the first night in Fukuoka, but I had to tell you for the hundredth time I can’t wait until Saturday. I’m about as giddy as a school girl. You can ask any of the guys. I’m a fucking mess. hahahaha I’m sure you’re sleeping like a good girl.

Y/N: Yah, focus on your performance. You’ve gotta blow away a bunch of STAYS with your charm and charisma, you can rizz me up AFTER the concert, eh? ;) and also, think again. If you’ve learned anything about me, I’m anything but good. ;)

Bang Chan: I’m running away now. I only have about an hour and I have shit to do before going on. Talk soon, darling. Oh and please don’t message Han or Seungmin. *runs away and hides*

Group Chat with Han & Seungmin

Seungmin: He’s red as a beat again.

Han: I like when you talk to Chan, he becomes so much nicer. I can get away with so much more. Keep talking, I gotta go cause some chaos while I have the chance.

Y/N: Don’t you dare, Han Jisung. You need to be focused on your performance too! What am, gonna become the resident mom of Stray Kids? Damn!

Seungmin: eww, no. Not that. Anything but that.

Y/N: Then go kick ass at this concert and stop bugging Chan! And hell, me too you little shits.

Seungmin: Truce.

Han: Truce.

Y/N: Good. Now, get out there show those JStays what you’ve got. I’m so jealous, by the way.

Seungmin: We’re both gonna make sure you get some specific footage from the concert tonight. You just can’t share it with anyone.

Han: ooooo secret secrets are so amazing.

Y/N: Damn, my life was really boring before Sunday.

Seungmin: you’re welcome.

Han: Glad to be of service. *runs off and grabs electric guitar that won’t be used at all for the concert tonight*

Y/N: Electric Guitar?!?!? Han Jisung you come back here. Are you play THE GUITAR IN JAPAN?!

You didn’t hear back from either man until after the concert. Yes, Han had played the electric guitar on stage, and when he sent you a video that their manager himself had recorded for you, you thought you had died and gone to heaven. He also sent you Seungmin’s performance and then teased you about Chan’s saying that it was a conversation you’d have to have with him. He didn’t promise you anything from Chan. Han Jisung was an absolute menace, but man were you glad that you could say he was a part of your life now. It still didn’t feel real.

Chan had sent you his performance as well. He’d called you immediately after the concertn on Thursday and there was a lot of flirty banter going on between you on that night. He teased you about how much he knew you were probably dying at his video and you sent him a video of you singing “Connected” that shut him right on up. You had recorded it Wednesday night randomly knowing it would probably come in handy as a good weapon against Chan. You weren’t wrong.

“God damn, baby girl. Using my own song against me. Shit,” he breathed out. You could tell he was trying to hold himself together.

“I’ve got plenty of weapons in my arsenal, babe. Don’t test me. If you do, better be ready for a fight,” you warned.

“Oh I’m more than fucking ready,” he growled.

“Sounds like someone needs to follow the advice of their own song,” you teased. “You know the part, “Diamond plated tension. Two minds, one direction. Craving the connection. Patience, babe.” you sang.

He went onto sing the next line, his voice laced with desire that was unmistakable.

“We’re pulling at each other like magnets. The rules are telling us to ignore them.Your moves they’re asking me for attention. Oh I’m losing it,” he sang back.

“I swear to god, Saturday can’t get here quick enough, Chan,” you huffed, the heat rising on your skin.

“Trust me, baby girl, I know. And on that note, I know this conversation wasn’t long enough, but I’ve gotta go,” he said. You could hear the anguish in his voice.

“Man, okay. No yeah, I understand. I forget you’re an actual star sometimes,” you admitted.

“I wish I could forget sometimes,” he mumbled.

You chose to let it slide, knowing you didn’t have time to unpack that heavy statement at the moment.

“We’re flying out early Friday and we’ll be in Korea for like no time at all before we are back on a plane to LA and then it’s time to see you,” he added.

“Saturday can’t come quick enough,” you agreed.

“It really can’t,” he echoed. “Alright, have a good rest of your Thursday, darlin’. I’ll text you when we’re heading to the airport. We’ll talk Friday about the details for Saturday, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Talk later.”

“G’day darlin’” Chan said, his smile evident even though you couldn’t see his face.

“G’night, babe,” you said and ended the all too short call.

Just one day separated you from meeting this man and your heart was racing at the thought. You had no real idea what to expect, but you knew it was going to be a whirlwind the second you landed in LA. Sleep evaded you for a while as the prospect of meeting Chan and Stray Kids clouded your every thought.

< Pt: 1 The Master of Flirting | Pt. 3 The Art of Meeting >

#bang chan fluff #stray kids bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan fic #bang chan fanfic #chan x reader #Bang chan series #The master of Flirting

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